The Fix Up (2 page)

Camryn

“What’s she doing here?” are the first words out of Sterling’s full, pouty mouth as he slides into a rolling leather chair across from me.

I can’t help but flinch a little at his words.

Sterling and I have always gotten along well, even if he is a pompous player who’s too sexy for his own good. There was a time when I hoped he’d ask me out, when I thought maybe he was looking for more. We danced and laughed at our friends’ wedding, but that was months ago now.

“She’s the one who’s going to save your ass,” one of his advisors says.

“Morning, sunshine.” I grin at him. Fighting the urge to look away from those sexy dark-blue eyes, I hold his gaze, not wanting to let him know how very much his presence rattles me. I cross my legs and straighten the leather portfolio on the sleek mahogany table instead.

Yesterday afternoon, my boss and my best friend, Olivia Cane, CEO of Tate & Cane Enterprises, called me into her office. She’d been contacted by a wealth manager in London about doing some publicity work. I had no idea what it entailed, only that it involved our friend Sterling. I had a feeling the handsome Brit was going to be a major pain in my ass. He was known to be a huge playboy, which I have little time or respect for. But he’s stupid hot. As in, he makes smart girls act stupid, so I need to keep my defenses up, and most of all, my legs closed.

“So, what’s this big project you said I’d be working on?” I’m more than a little curious about what I’m supposed to help Charles and Sterling with.

The wealth manager, Charles, who also happens to be Sterling’s uncle, flew in from London yesterday. And he has one expression on his features. Sheer panic. Sterling stretches and covers a yawn behind his hand.

“As you may be aware, Sterling Quinn is the heir to the Quinn fortune. His great-grandfather Duncan Quinn built a sizeable wealth over the course of his life.”

My gaze cuts to Sterling. Heir to a fortune?

Gulping down a huge breath, I try to compose myself. I only know Sterling as a huge manwhore, a sexy Brit, and a cocky lawyer who doesn’t believe in love.

“I had no idea,” I say, breathless.

Sterling winks at me. “Neither did I, until Sunday morning.”

“His great-grandfather recently passed away, and according to his will, everything is to be left to Sterling upon the completion of a few strict requirements. Actually, just one . . .”

Glancing up, I catch Sterling watching me. I wonder if he remembers that night as fondly as I do. Distracted, I clear my throat and motion for Charles to continue.

“To receive his inheritance, he has to be wed. And we have six months to make that happen.”

I study Sterling’s expression, trying to make sense of his feelings on this. His smirk is amused, as if to say,
Isn’t this a fine little mess we’ve found ourselves in?

I cross my legs beneath the table. He’s an attorney, so he makes good money; maybe he doesn’t need it. “How many millions are we talking here?”

Charles purses his lips. “Fifty million dollars.”

Okay, scratch that. Who’s going to say no to that kind of money?
Damn
. No pressure or anything.

My heart starts to gallop. “And you want me to . . .”

I leave the rest unfinished. Seriously, what is my role in this crazy scenario? An impending panic attack lurks under my cool facade. If they think I’m going to be the one to marry him, they’ve fucking lost it.

“I take it you saw the media circus and hordes of women out there?” Charles asks. “Everyone’s vying for a piece of the new millionaire bachelor.”

As I nod, my gaze drifts over to Sterling once again. I wonder how he feels about all this, about all the attention. Does he feel like a piece of meat? I would. Those women are nothing but gold diggers looking to cash in. Then again, as a manwhore, maybe he’s loving it. Maybe he actually collects thongs as trophies.

“Your role will be to manage this entire process from start to finish. To come up with and execute a plan that ends with Sterling married before the six-month deadline.”

Huh.
So that explains what I’m doing here.

Sterling’s cocky smirk pulls into a full-on grin. “I have to be to court in an hour. Camryn will handle this.”

Camryn will handle this?
Dude. What in the actual fuck? Does he not understand that the
this
we’re discussing is his future, his
wife
?

I’m a PR executive at one of New York City’s best marketing and publicity firms. I’m not the fucking millionaire matchmaker.

I’m going to kill Olivia.

Sterling

“So, what are you going to do?” Noah asks, his smirk smug.

The cocksucker is having a moment of déjà vu. It was only a handful of months ago that he told me about the arranged marriage his father’s will proposed, and I was the one mocking him and telling him it would never work. Seriously, what are the odds that two friends would each find themselves in a marry-or-else situation? This is the twenty-first century, is it not?

“There’s no way I’m letting millions go. I’m going to do what any normal man would do. I’m getting fucking married,” I tell him.

Noah chuckles low under his breath. We’re seated at a bistro near the courthouse where I’ve just finished dissolving the marriage of two nasty clients involved in an intense custody battle. It’s disturbing that two people who vowed to love each other for all of eternity, who produced three humans together, could turn so viciously on each other. Then again, I know all of this from personal experience too, which makes it sting all the worse.

I take another sip of lukewarm tea, and try to let it go. But bloody hell, with my own marriage looming on the horizon like a death sentence, it’s hard to imagine how I can possibly put myself through something similar. I just have to remember the reason I’m doing this, make a plan, focus on it, and not let anything get in the way, even my own desires.

“You’ll be fine.” Noah takes a sip and nods at me over the rim of his cup. “Look at me and Olivia.”

They’re happier than two drunk soldiers at a whorehouse. But they’re the exception, not the rule. They’ve known each other since they were kids, and their fathers had a hand in uniting them, both in business, by naming them co-CEOs, and also in love. My situation is totally different. I’m going to be forced to marry a virtual stranger or else lose out on millions, all because my great-grandfather was old-fashioned and thought that a man of my age needs a wife and family.

“How’s Olivia getting on?” I ask, needing a topic change.

A sappy smile graces Noah’s lips, and the bastard lets out a dreamy sigh.

It’s better to focus on his happy life than my dreadful one.

Camryn

“And if I refuse?” I place my hands on my hips.

After that disastrous meeting this morning, I’ve planted myself in Olivia’s office, and I’m not budging until I get some answers. It doesn’t matter that she’s six months pregnant; I’m not leaving this office until I’ve made my point.

“You’re not going to refuse.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, I know you, and you’ve never once in your life backed down from a challenge. And second, because I’m asking you to do this, Cam. As your friend.” She shrugs. “And as your boss.”

I shake my head at her. “So I’m going to be babysitting Sterling for the next six months, helping him to what—date? This is ridiculous. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Did I mention the client has promised a ten-thousand-dollar bonus if you pull this off?” she adds sweetly.

Ten thousand dollars could change everything for me. I haven’t opened up and told Olivia about the whole deal because it’s kind of awkward when your BFF is a multimillionaire, but when my last boyfriend took off, he left me with a small mountain of debt. I cringe every time my phone rings, not knowing if it will be another call from a credit-card company. And now I’ve gotten myself two months behind on rent, just trying to pay the minimum on my credit-card bills.

I never imagined I’d be living like this, my stomach in cramps when I think of my financial landscape. Even worse? I don’t have any of the shiny things to show for the money spent. My ex disappeared with my heart, and everything else. A ten-thousand-dollar bonus could pay all of it off. I could start actually sleeping at night again instead of worrying how I’ll pay off the credit-card debt he left me.

“I’m listening.” I slump down into the firm leather chair in front of her desk.

Olivia places her elbows on the desk and leans in closer. “I knew you’d come around.”

“But seriously, how am I going to do this? I have no idea what Sterling wants in a wife, and I still have my other clients and projects to manage.”

Olivia leans back and places one hand on the firm, round bump of her belly, stroking lightly. God, why does she have to be so adorable? It’s hard to stay mad at her.

“True. Well, I suppose you’ll have to spend some extra time with Sterling, figure out what he wants. And I’ll tell you what—with what the estate people are paying the firm, I think I can even cover the cost of an assistant for you. Would that help you manage?”

My very own assistant? A small smile graces my lips. “I like that idea. But the idea of hunting out candidates and interviewing . . .” I sigh.

“Problem solved. Anna’s firm is downsizing. She’d be perfect.”

Anna has been a close friend since the fourth grade. She’s someone I adore and trust. Plus, she’s super hardworking.

“I had no idea.”

Olivia nods. “She e-mailed me her résumé this morning. She just got wind of the corporate downsizing.”

“Wow. Tough luck.” I know Anna loves her job; she’s been there for years. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

I head back to my office, intent on getting some work taken care of, but first I send a quick e-mail to Anna to set up an meeting for after work tonight.

Just as I begin editing the latest media-campaign graphics, a text on my phone snatches my attention, and I grab it to check the caller ID. It’s an unknown number, and I’m about to shove it back into my purse without answering. Probably another fucking bill collector. My ex needs his balls chopped off with a rusty butter knife.

Then I remember Sterling and I exchanged numbers after the meeting this morning.

Sterling
: When do we start?

No pleasantries, no
hello, how are you?
And on top of that, he just assumes I’m going to take the job. Which I am, but still. Before I can think up a witty reply, he sends another text.

Sterling
: I’m free tonight after work.

Worse than him assuming I’m going to drop everything and work for him, he assumes I have no life and can meet at the drop of a hat. The cocky asshat.

Camryn
: I have plans tonight, sorry.

Without missing a beat, my phone chimes again.

Sterling
: Tomorrow night then.

I need tonight to get my act together. I know I can count on Anna to help me create a winning game plan. Then I’ll be ready to face Sterling, ready to face this fix-up assignment head-on.

Camryn
: Fine.

Sterling
: Seven at La Brasso.

La Brasso is a nice Italian restaurant that opened recently, and has been in the news because of some fancy chef and their long waiting list to even get a table. I have no idea how or why Sterling thinks we can get in tomorrow—Saturday night, of all nights—but I don’t argue.

• • •

The second I open the door, Anna tackle-hugs me.

“Cam! It’s so good to see you.” When she pulls back and meets my gaze, she frowns. “You look tired, sweetie.” She pats my back.

“Thanks?” I chuckle and shake my head. “No, it’s just work. But that’s why you’re here.”

Anna makes herself comfortable, flopping down onto the plush Pottery Barn sofa I saved for and finally bought last year. But now with money being so tight, I feel guilty every time I sink into the blue microfiber fabric.

“I know, and I’m so excited we’re going to be working together. You and Olivia are really saving my ass.”

I sit down beside her. “You’re saving my behind; trust me. This isn’t going to be a typical assignment, or easy.”

She smiles wide, the little gap between her front teeth endearingly lovable. “Olivia already filled me in. This is gonna be fun!”

There’s one thing you need to know about Anna. She is freaking adorable. Five foot one with bouncy honey-colored waves and an infectious, happy attitude. Seriously, she’s the best. And I have a feeling that if I survive the next six months, she will be the number-one reason why.

Anna grabs her purse that’s slumped at the floor near her feet and pulls out a stack of DVDs.

When I see that they’re seasons one through six of the show
The Millionaire Matchmaker
, I let out a shriek of laughter.

“Oh my God. You didn’t.”

Anna beams. “Oh yes, I did. We’re going to learn from the best, baby.”

I’m about to break the news that I don’t have a DVD player when I suddenly remember that David’s stash of crap in the hall closet includes a gaming system that I’m pretty sure plays DVDs.

“One sec.” A few minutes later, I scurry back with the contraption. “Courtesy of David the Douche.”

“Ugh. Why haven’t you burned this stuff? Or better yet, sold it?” Anna groans.

“I have no idea.”

I plug the thing into the outlet near my flat-screen TV. This little black box used to be a huge point of contention in our relationship. He spent more time fiddling with this than he did with me, a point I refuse to dwell on right now. Tonight is about fresh starts and new beginnings. I’m going to be working with one of my best friends in the whole world, and if tonight is any indication, it’s going to be damn fun.

We share a pizza and a bottle of merlot, and only make it halfway through season one, but I already have a notepad filled with ideas.

“No sex before monogamy. Genius rule.” Anna bites off a hunk of pizza crust, nodding along with the mantra from the show’s host and our new girl-crush, Patty Stranger.

“Amen, sister.” I raise my wineglass in salute. “This lady is a genius.”

Even though this lesson isn’t for me, I’m picking up a lot of helpful tips too. For instance, did you know that a man wants a woman who is ladylike, polite, and respectful? It sounds old-fashioned, but apparently it’s true. I think it was Ludacris who said
a lady in the street and a freak in the bed
. So in addition to jotting down notes for my meeting with Sterling tomorrow, I write a few reminders for myself.
Don’t call or chase after him excessively, and remember to say please and thank-you.

“I think I’m ready for tomorrow.” Surveying the notepad, I lean back and sink into the couch.

It’s filled with things like:

First-date kiss—acceptable.

No dick pics—ever. Not even when drunk
. That should be another rule—no drunk texts.

No sex on the first or second dates. And that includes oral, mister!
I’d like to see Sterling try to stick with that one.

“You’re going to kill it.” Anna nods.

“So, when do you start working with me officially?” I ask, setting the notebook aside.

“I’m all yours on Monday.”

I nod. “Cool. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

After I walk her to the door, we share another hug.

“When are you meeting with Sterling?”

My gaze drifts to the wall behind her. “He asked me for dinner tomorrow night. At La Brasso.”

Anna frowns. “Hmm.”

“What?”

Shaking her head, she adjusts her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Nothing. That’s just a really romantic, intimate restaurant. I mean, I’ve heard, but I’ve never been there. Too rich for my blood.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t realize that.”

I have no idea why I said that, why I defended Sterling and downplayed it. The truth is, I have no idea why he asked me to dinner. We can handle all this through e-mail if we really want to.

Anna purses her lips, studying me, and then nods. “You’re right. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Awareness prickles at the back of my neck. “I’ll fill you in on everything. Talk soon.”

And then I’m standing there, tipsy and slightly confused, alone in my apartment.

It’s almost midnight, but I’m not tired. I grab the last slice of pizza and my laptop, and scurry off for my bed, slipping under the powder-soft duvet with a sigh.

With a mouthful of spicy pepperoni, I open my favorite social network and type in Sterling’s name.

His bright, magnetic smile beams back at me. Despite our close friends being married, he and I aren’t all that close. We’re acquaintances, at best. I’ve never friended him, and he’s never friended me. Which means my access to see his personal profile is limited. There are only a handful of pictures I can see.

Scanning through them, I decide this isn’t technically stalking since I’ve been hired to work on managing his personal affairs. There’s a shot of him and Noah, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders at a charity golf event last summer. One from Olivia and Noah’s wedding.

Damn, Sterling looked fucking sexy in that tux, but I already knew that. I wondered briefly at the wedding when he brought me a glass of champagne, and subtly flirted in that coy way he has, if we’d be the stereotypical maid of honor and best man who hooked up at our friend’s wedding. But it wasn’t to be. Sterling left early that evening, looking like there was something on his mind.

It’s weird how you can know someone for years, but really not know them at all. I have no idea what his favorite candy is, what type of underwear he wears—or if he even wears any, or what type of movies he favors. I don’t know his hopes or dreams. But something tells me I’m about to learn all of that, and a whole lot more. I just don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Deciding it’s time to get to sleep so I’m fresh for my date tomorrow, I close my laptop and climb from the warm cocoon of my duvet to wash my face and get ready for bed. Toothbrush halfway to my mouth, I pause, my eyes flashing to the vanity mirror.

Tomorrow is not a
date
. There will be no dates with Sterling Quinn. That little pang of regret in my belly will just have to fuck off.