Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(30)

With another quick glance at Steve to make sure he didn’t seem suspicious—I really didn’t want him to find out about this—I clicked on the notification from Shepherd.

Shepherd: Dinner tonight at seven.

I checked his calendar, but I didn’t see anything. I didn’t remember him mentioning a dinner. That was odd. What was he talking about?

Me: You don’t have anything on your calendar tonight. Do you need me to add it?

Shepherd: No, I made reservations for seven.

Oh my god, had he asked me to make dinner reservations and I’d forgotten? I never forgot things, not even the tiniest detail. It was one of the reasons I was so good at my job.

Me: Did you ask me to and I forgot? You could have just reminded me.

Me: But I don’t remember you asking.

Me: Am I going crazy?

Shepherd: Come here.

I minimized our conversation and went into his office. His brow furrowed as he looked at me.

“I’m sorry if I missed something. I guess I’ve been a little off this week—”

“Everly.”

I closed my mouth and pressed my lips together.

“I made dinner reservations for us.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner. The meal that usually takes place after work. And sometimes people have dinner together. At a restaurant.”

Oh my god, was he teasing me? My mouth turned up in a small smile. “Shepherd, are you making a joke?”

He sighed and glanced away, as if annoyed, but I could see the hint of a smile on his face. “I figured we should have dinner together.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling like a dork. “Right, like a date. Because we’re… I get it.”

“Yes.”

I crossed my arms. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“Out on a date.”

His jaw hitched. “You want me to ask you? We’re supposed to be—”

“Dating.”

“And living together.”

“Well, I know, but how’d you know I’d be free for dinner?”

“Because you’re dating me.”

Why was his emphasis on the word me so freaking sexy?

“Fake-dating you. I could have had plans.” I could practically hear his teeth grinding. Riling him up was fun, but I didn’t want to take it too far. “I meant with my girlfriends.”

He appeared to relax. At least he no longer looked like he was in danger of popping a blood vessel. “Fine. Everly, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

“Why, yes, Shepherd, I’d love to.”

“Seven,” he said, turning back to his laptop.

“Lovely,” I said, and went back to my desk.

Wait, this was not lovely. I had to go on a date with him? A real, actual date?

I had terrible luck when it came to dating. I was basically the queen of first date disasters. But maybe this didn’t count as a first date. We’d gone to the gala together. Of course, that had been fake. But so was this.

I needed help, so I texted Nora.

Me: 911. Shepherd is taking me on a date.

Nora: What’s the emergency? Do you need an outfit?

Me: No. Maybe. But that’s not the emergency.

Nora: …

Me: Did you read my text? A date, Nora. DATE.

Nora: A fake date or a real date?

Me: Real. I mean, it’s all fake, but we’re actually going on a date.

Nora: Again, what’s the emergency? Do you need shoes?

Me: No. Maybe. That’s not the point. Is this a first date? Or was the gala our first date?

Nora: Does it matter?

Me: Yes. It matters. You know how first dates are for me.

Nora: Oh god, you’re right. Let’s count the gala as your first date. Better?

Me: Much.

Nora: Shoes? How about the mint heels?

Me: You’re the best. I’ll stop by on my way home.

Letting out a relieved breath, I put down my phone. Tonight was our second date. Good. I could handle a second date. And I loved Nora’s mint heels. Sharing a shoe size with Nora Lakes was one of my life’s greatest blessings.





The mint heels were perfect. I paired them with a black mini-dress. A little sexy, maybe—it did show a lot of leg—but I was only trying to play the part.

Plus, this dress did look pretty great on me.

Shepherd was waiting for me near the front door. He’d changed into a different suit—this one deep blue with a coordinating tie. The color made his eyes pop.

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as I approached with my coat draped over my arm. “You look… very nice.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile.

I heard voices in the other room—Richard and Svetlana—and it sounded like they were heading our direction. Shepherd and I locked eyes and gave each other the subtlest of nods.

Shepherd took my coat and stepped in close to help me put it on. He was so imposing when he stood near me like this. So tall and undeniably masculine. Moving slowly, he guided each sleeve over my arms, drawing out the process while Richard and Svetlana came into view.

With gentle hands, Shepherd swept my hair out of the collar of my coat, his eyes on my face. I couldn’t stop staring at him. At his fierce eyes and square jaw. This close, his scent was almost intoxicating. How could a man smell so good all the time? Honestly, did he have a single flaw?