Romance for Cynics. Nicola Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ hand away and he continued. ‘All the women I know would be unsuitable. They want a commitment or a wedding ring. That’s why you’d be perfect.’

      As she opened her mouth to argue he said, ‘You don’t like me.’

      ‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Believe me, if I had other options I’d take them but my business is everything to me and I can’t afford to lose it.’

      ‘With a place like this, surely you’ve got a few million or ten stashed away for a rainy day?’ She gestured at the house, a two-storey French Provincial style mansion sprawled across a double block on Williamstown’s foreshore, where real estate prices were sky-high. ‘Why don’t you dip into that?’

      His lips compressed into a thin, angry line. ‘I need the positive PR more than the money.’

      If this wasn’t about his business losing clients and money, there must be one hell of a good reason why he’d approached her, a woman he barely knew, to pose as his girlfriend for a week.

      ‘Why?’ She pinned him with the usual glare she reserved for their brief meetings. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

      His gaze shifted to stare over her shoulder, focused on the intense blue of Port Phillip Bay on a perfect summer’s day. ‘I work with famous people whose egos are as big as the pay cheques they want me to invest for them. My reputation is everything. And if that’s tarnished in any way...’

      She raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. He shook his head and his pained expression almost made her feel sorry for him. Almost. ‘One of Melbourne’s hottest actresses didn’t take too kindly to my refusing her offer of...uh, side benefits to our business arrangement.’

      The unexpected jab of jealousy took her by surprise, as did the begrudging respect. Not many red-blooded guys would turn down taking things further with the sort of woman she knew Cash did business with.

      ‘Anyway, she’s spreading rumours. Bad ones. And I can’t go on the record in the media without adding fuel to the fire and looking like a callous bastard, so I need to tackle this a different way.’

      ‘And you think having a fake girlfriend for a week will do the trick?’ She smothered her chuckle when he glared at her. ‘Seriously, I need to get back to work—’

      ‘There’ll be a significant financial incentive.’

      And just like that, Lucy’s respect for the crazy yet gorgeous Cash plummeted. ‘You want to pay me to be your girlfriend?’

      He puffed up as if she’d insulted him. ‘Well, there has to be something in it for you, right?’

      His assessing gaze slid over her, leaving her skin prickling. ‘It’s not like you’d do it out of the goodness of your heart.’

      She snapped her fingers. ‘That’s right, considering I don’t even like you.’

      Sick of the distraction, and ultimate stuff-up of her time management for the day, she picked up the shears. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find some other poor sucker—uh, I mean eternally grateful, simpering female to pander to your every whim for a week.’

      He folded his arms, unimpressed by her flippancy. ‘So you won’t do it?’

      She snapped the shears twice in response.

      ‘There’s nothing I can give you to sweeten the offer?’

      She didn’t like the way her stomach fell at his smooth tone. ‘Nope. Not a thing. Not even if you promised to walk through Melbourne in a pair of my shorts, or gave me carte blanche to remodel this entire garden from start to finish.’

      Actually, she could be tempted by that. Not the shorts thing. The garden. It was something she’d thought about often while doing the basic maintenance.

      A garden like this deserved to be loved and made to shine. Mowing the lawn and keeping the hedges trimmed was a travesty, considering the underlying beauty.

      How many times had she mentally planned a complete redesign? Loads, because she liked to daydream while she worked. Liked to envisage her landscaping business gaining notoriety so she could work on some of the city’s many beautiful gardens.

      Ironic, that one of the things that mattered to her most these days—her job—was born from her disastrous marriage.

      The sprawling garden surrounding Adrian’s Toorak mansion had been incredible. She’d spent many hours there, first entertaining, later losing herself in tending to it to block out the ever-increasing evidence that her husband was a lying, cheating scumbag.

      She’d buried herself in books too, doing a horticultural science course to foster her love of all things green, and by the time the divorce had come through Lucy’s Landscaping had been a thriving business for a year.

      She liked maintaining pristine gardens of the wealthy clients she’d once called friends. They trusted her and she ignored their pitying glances and overt condescension. Gardening paid the bills and made her happy. Nothing else mattered, apart from Gram, the woman who’d given her courage to leave Adrian in the first place.

      Calculated interest sparked Cash’s eyes. ‘What if I said you could re-landscape the entire place?’

      Damn her traitorous heart for leaping at the prospect. ‘Do you know how much that would set you back?’

      His lips curved. ‘I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.’

      ‘Thirty grand.’

      To his credit, he didn’t blink. Typical millionaire.

      ‘I need you as my girlfriend, Lucy,’ he said, taking a step closer. Too close. The scent of his spicy shower gel mingling with the nearby Daphne to make her swoon a little. ‘Please?’

      With his big blue eyes fixed on her and that devastatingly sexy smile, Lucy wondered how many women had actually managed to say no to Cash Burgess.

      She bet she’d be the first.

      ‘Sorry, can’t do it.’ She made a grand show of glancing at her watch. ‘And if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for an appointment.’

      Before he could respond, she tucked the pruning shears into the tool belt around her waist and pushed the lawnmower towards her trailer as fast as her legs could carry her.

      Because for one tension-fraught second, with that silent plea in his steady gaze, she’d almost said yes.

      * * *

      Lucy had barely kicked off her boots at her grandmother’s back door and entered the kitchen when she knew something was drastically wrong.

      Gram baked every morning. If Lucy gardened to forget her husband, Gram baked to remember hers.

      She supplied local cafés and schools and the local homeless shelter. Baking was Gram’s thing. So to enter the kitchen Lucy had grown up in to find Gram sitting motionless at the dining table with a stack of documents spread before her? As unforeseeable as Cash’s girlfriend-for-a-week СКАЧАТЬ