Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(17)

Not that I’d ever done that before.

Okay, yes I had.

Around the time my feet started to hurt, Shepherd said he’d take me home. He’d driven himself. Although he had a driver available all the time, he usually drove his own car. We went out to the parking garage, his hand still on my back. He held the passenger’s side door of his Mercedes for me, and I got in.

Another first. I’d never been in his car. Scheduled it for detailing, yes. Been a passenger, no.

He was quiet on the drive to my building. I tried not to dwell on what it had felt like to have his hand on my back. Or sliding up and down my bare arm. Or twining his fingers together with mine. It had been awfully nice.

But I needed to get that out of my head right now. I was just a bit too relaxed from the drinks. I’d gone a little outside my normal assistant role, but that was all.

There was a spot on the street a block from my apartment building, so he parked. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

It was the first time he’d spoken since we’d left the hotel. I was about to say he didn’t need to do that, but he got out and came around to open the door for me. I appreciated the hand he offered to help me out of the car. This dress was tricky.

We stopped in front of my building and I gripped my clutch tighter than necessary, feeling suddenly awkward. What were we supposed to do now? We weren’t pretending anything, here. But if I said goodnight to him like I did at the end of a work day, and received no response, it was going to hurt my feelings. I didn’t want the night to end like that.

“Well, I hope your dad is okay,” I said. “I don’t envy you the task of breaking the news to him.”

“No, it’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Yeah. I guess… I’ll see you Monday.”

“Right,” he said. “Monday.”

I took a deep breath. “Goodnight, Mr. Calloway.”

He met my eyes again. “Goodnight.”

That made me smile. He’d said goodnight in return. It was all I needed.

I pulled out my key and went to the door. He turned and started back toward his car.

“Everly,” he said.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

My breath caught in my throat and I bit my lip, feeling a poignant mix of giddiness and confusion. It was the first time he’d ever thanked me for anything.

I watched him go, wondering if things would be weird between us on Monday morning. But I had a feeling they wouldn’t. He’d go back to being Mr. Calloway, and this would just be a crazy story I’d tell my besties in the circle of trust.





7





Shepherd





I was on my second cup of coffee and still didn’t feel awake. This wasn’t normal. I popped an Airborne into a glass of water and watched it fizz. Maybe I was getting sick. I hadn’t slept well. I’d been haunted by visions of a blond woman in a red dress.

Where had she come from? The woman who’d posed as my girlfriend last night could not have been my assistant. Everly was just… Everly. She was punctual, efficient, hard-working, and yes, pleasant to look at. But the woman who’d answered my summons last night had been something else.

She’d been stunning. Confident and sexy. And charming as fuck. She’d had my dad in the palm of her hand after just a few words. Her performance had been utter perfection.

I liked perfection. I demanded it, but so rarely was it achieved. But Everly in that insane red dress? She’d been perfect.

In fact, she’d turned an evening that would normally have been a drudgery into a fairly enjoyable experience.

Some of that was the look on Svetlana’s face when she’d seen who I was with. She’d remembered Everly, all right. I’d never bothered with revenge before—I was too busy for that nonsense—but Svetlana had crossed a line when she’d targeted my father. Waltzing around the ballroom with Everly on my arm had been worth every second of the hassle it had taken to get her there.

Now I just had to figure out how to break it to my dad that the woman he’d met in Hawaii was not who he thought.

There was a knock on my door and I glanced at the time. My brother, Ethan, was due to come over this morning. He understood our father better than I did. I figured he could help me determine the best course of action for the current dilemma.

Ethan looked like a slimmer version of me, with the same thick dark hair and blue eyes. He and his partner, Grant, liked to run marathons, and they both had a lean runner’s build. Ethan and I were often mistaken for twins, although he was two years older. He was a talented architect, and Grant worked as a software engineer.

“Morning,” he said with a grin when I opened the door. “Please tell me you have more coffee.”

“Sure.”

I stepped aside so he could come in and closed the door while he went straight for the kitchen.

“Sorry about last night.” He got a mug out of the cupboard and poured himself a cup. “Grant had a work thing and I really needed to be there. How did it go? Was Dad glowing?”

“You could say that.” I picked up my mug and took a sip. “His speech was good.”

“Of course it was.” He leaned against the counter and cradled the mug in his hands. “Did you talk to him much or was it the usual mingling?”