Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(47)

“You did not just spell out the word ‘sex.’”

“Sorry, still in birthday party mode.” She straightened her spine. “If sex happens—”

A parent cleared his throat behind her. Scarlet-faced, Georgie turned around.

“We were just hoping for a business card,” said a man in a Giants cap who wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You know, uh . . . for the future.”

“Yes, of course,” Georgie croaked, handing him one from her pocket. “We have specials running through Christmas. I look forward to your call.” A moment later, she was alone again with Travis, who was definitely battling a laugh behind his fist. “It’s not funny.”

“Please stop. You know it’s funny.”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“You’re dressed like a clown and my face is painted like a dog, baby girl. It ain’t happening.” Travis took the car keys from her hand, popped the trunk, and stowed her gear. Once it was put away, he rounded the car with the box of baby wipes she kept in the trunk. “Come here.”

“I can . . .” Clean off my own face. But of course, she wouldn’t be doing that, because it was far too incredible having Travis tilt up her chin and smooth the cool, wet wipes over her mouth, getting rid of her wide red clown smile. Then down her cheeks and over her T-zone, careful as he cleaned around her eyes. All in all, it probably took him a single minute, but it lasted forever, because her brain moved in slow motion, counting eyelashes and wondering if he’d been born with the freckle under his right eye, or if it had popped up one summer as a child . . . and none of these thoughts was productive. Neither was the electricity snapping and humming between them, garnering power from the phone lines and nearby houses, building and building until Georgie had to push Travis away or risk public indecency. “O-okay, I can get the rest.”

Why was he staring at her mouth like that all of a sudden? Like a wolf who’d spotted a lamb. Had he been as affected by what they’d done as she had? It didn’t seem possible when he’d been with so many women. Women who actually knew what they were doing. The subtle sound of a camera snap reminded Georgie this was all for show. Travis wanted a job on a family-friendly network and she wanted adult respectability. She needed to remember that.

Travis cleared his throat. “You’re good.” He tugged out a few wipes and returned the box to her trunk. While he used his reflection in the back windshield to help him clean off his own face, he cut a glance in her direction. “You were saying?”

“Oh. Right.” Her courage to have this conversation had been ferried away on a lust gondola, but she begged it to come back. “Um. Okay, so you heard what I said before.”

“About us having sex.” His jaw popped. “Yeah. I heard.”

“Well, you’re not going to be able to see anyone else for real. While this is going on.” Oh God, what was she doing? Stop. Nope. She kept going. “Won’t you need some kind of . . . action?”

“Yes, Georgie. My very survival depends on it.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Yes.”

She barely resisted sticking her tongue out at him. “I’m only pointing out that we’re pretty compatible in the adult arts and you could probably teach me a lot. About art. While we’re killing time.”

“Christ. So much to unpack there.” Laughing without humor, he swiped a hand down his face. “My mind hasn’t changed. It’s not happening again. We do this, we keep it black and white.” His jaw bunched as he looked her over. “It doesn’t matter if there’s something of an . . . attraction here. We’re keeping this platonic. That going to work for you?”

She was relieved and disappointed at the same time. Without the magic of his touch, she had a much better chance of keeping her heart intact. Why had she pushed the issue in the first place? Probably because he’d looked at her like she was the last woman on earth that afternoon in his bed—and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Okay, fine. Keeping things platonic was necessary for her self-preservation.

For the next little while, she was Travis Ford’s pretend girlfriend. Pretend. As long as she could remember that, she would walk away from this arrangement with the reputation of a woman of the world. Her heart wouldn’t be a crumbled mess, either. As long as she held this part of herself back.

“Why do you look relieved about the no-sex thing?” He massaged the center of his forehead. “Jesus Christ, Georgie, you are confusing.”

“How do you want me to react?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“What? Now?”

“Yeah.” After the smallest hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her forehead, his audible swallow echoing her own. “We’ve got a camera following us. No better time than the present.”

“Oh, right.” She forced a flirtatious smile but never felt it reach her eyes. “There. I’m smitten.”

“Great,” he said drily. “I’ll meet you at the Waterfront.”

“Ooh.” She twisted side to side. “Fancy, fancy—”

“Too much.”