She only has one rule...
[WATTYS SHORTLIST 2022]
A buttoned up bookworm agrees to a fake relationship with a surprisingly literate male model in order to save his career. She only has one condition: No kissing allowed.
***
At age 27, Cora Glass ha...
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"Hold on," Jamie called in Cora's wake. "I'm not finished yet."
He kept his face impassive, pushing down the seething disappointment in his chest. So much for all his cunning machinations. He should have known it wouldn't go his way in the end. It never did.
He'd been looking forward all day to more time alone with Cora. He'd gone to battle on her behalf to keep her here, and nearly gotten himself axed in the process.
And this was the thanks she gave him?
He shouldn't have bothered. The other girl—the one on the poster—she had the look of a leading lady. The pair of them would make a handsome couple. Clearly, the producers had kept the real talent in reserve. As visual imagery went, no one could deny that girl was fit.
And wasn't that why he was there? To serve as visual imagery. That was his role. He needed to remember it.
For the life of him, Jamie couldn't fathom why he'd gone off script. Some sentimental drivel about eyes at night and ships lost at sea... Good lord. The pain from his ankle injury must have affected his brain. That was the only plausible explanation.
Cora halted and turned back toward him, putting her hands on her hips. The gesture caused the belt of her bathrobe to loosen. A wardrobe malfunction loomed, but Jamie wouldn't warn her. She didn't want his help, as she'd made abundantly clear.
"Stop rescuing me and worry about yourself."
So he would. If he ended up catching an unintended glimpse of creamy flesh beneath that robe, she couldn't lay the blame on him.
What rankled most was not the lack of thanks in general, but her insistence on misconstruing his intentions. He'd merely bought her time. He'd given her the opportunity to decide for herself whether to stay or leave, as he'd attempted to explain. "I thought you should have some say in the matter. That's all."
"So you spoke for me."
He'd done no such thing. Just the opposite, as a matter of fact. And it had required no lack of skill to pull it off. Did Cora truly not understand what he'd done for her?
He would have to spell it out. "To be fair," he began, "I didn't speak for you. That was the point."
"Did you ask me if I wanted to stay here? Did it ever occur to you that I might not?"
"Yes," he said simply.
She strode toward him, and her robe gaped at the neck. It took a good deal of fortitude to keep his eyes on her face. If he so much as glanced at the band of cleavage she'd revealed, she would tighten it back up again.
"But you kept me here anyway. In what universe is that not speaking for me?" She threw up her hands in disbelief. Truly a reckless maneuver, given the state of her attire. Had the woman no sense of self preservation?
