‘Yeah.’

  ‘Me too, should be a blast.’

  Trying to hide his impatience, Cash glanced at his watch. ‘Surely this can wait ’til morning? I really have to go—’

  ‘That last investment you made on my behalf? My brother’s doing something shonky with the dividends and I’m worried. I need your help.’

  Crap. As much as Cash wanted to ditch Ivenka, he couldn’t. She’d referred too many clients his way for him to shove her out of the door or defer this until the morning. He had to sort this now.

  ‘Give me a minute and we’ll get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘Knew I could count on you.’ She blew him a kiss. It made him inwardly cringe.

  He headed into the study to grab his laptop, firing a quick apologetic text to Lucy and detour directions to the limo driver on the way. The faster he fixed Ivenka’s latest crisis, the faster he could meet up with the woman he cared about.

  Cash’s laptop lay open on the desk and as he picked it up the screen flickered to life to display what he’d been working on.

  But by the larger than life picture on the screen, he hadn’t been working this afternoon. He’d been staring at a pic of Lucy gazing at him during the post-disco interview.

  He knew the exact moment they’d cropped this still. At the end, when she’d been discussing her dream date.

  Her vulnerability had surprised him at the time, but what hit him now was the way she was looking at him. As if she trusted him enough to divulge that kind of information.

  The disco had been their first function and he’d been so gung-ho, trying to impress her. Trying to woo her too, considering their dance-floor kiss.

  Yet staring at the picture now, it revealed more than he could’ve thought possible. Because Lucy wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

  His expression, his body language, totally, one hundred per cent focused on her.

  It came to him in a blinding flash of clarity.

  He didn’t just care about Lucy.

  He loved her.

  No woman had ever invaded his thoughts, and his dreams, as Lucy did.

  She’d been on the fringe of his life for months now, yet it had taken some stupid PR stunt on his behalf to see the truth. That she was the kind of woman worth taking a risk on.

  Blindsided, he rubbed his chest, unable to tear his gaze from the picture.

  He loved Lucy.

  Which begged the question: what the hell was he going to do about it?

  * * *

  Lucy wanted to make an impact tonight.

  So she’d gone all out. Professional make-up, manicure, hair styled and a knockout dress she couldn’t afford but had bought anyway.

  She hadn’t needed a stylist to tell her the dress would make an impression. A deep red satin sheath with a sweetheart neckline highlighted by crystals embedded in the bodice that draped her body and flattered in ways no control underwear could.

  The colour brought out the new caramel highlights in her hair and made her eyes look impossibly huge.

  She hoped Cash would take one look at her and want to keep her for real. He’d jokingly called her Cinders twice now but this girl had no intention of returning to a life of drudgery at midnight.

  Uh-uh. At midnight, she hoped to be ensconced with Cash having a conversation about their future. Whatever that entailed.

  Lucy twirled in front of the mirror one last time, revelling in the swish of fabric around her bare calves, the sheer indulgence of wearing shoes that sparkled.

  She missed this. Missed the dressing up and the socialising and the joy of wearing fabulous clothes. She’d half expected to be panicky about donning her old persona: a woman who thrived on fashion and frivolity. A side of her she’d deliberately shut away as part of her defence mechanism against the pain Adrian had inflicted.

  But freeing her inner romantic was liberating. She felt amazing, on top of the world, a woman who could do anything and be anything.

  A woman confident in her capabilities to go after the guy she wanted. A woman ready to break free of the past once and for all and embrace the future.

  Her mobile beeped at the same time she picked up her lip-gloss for a final swipe. One glance at the screen and she laid the gloss down. Just seeing Cash’s name appearing on the screen made her heart ricochet in her chest.

  She hit the message icon.

  Sorry Luce

  Client crisis in progress

  Car will pick U up

  Will C U @ ball

  Her enthusiasm deflated as she stared at the screen in dismay.

  She’d spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready for tonight. Had checked her make-up and teeth and hair a thousand times. Had practised wearing her new shoes to ensure they could dance the night away. Had checked all angles in the mirror on countless occasions in the last half-hour.

  All because she’d wanted to make a dazzling first impression when she opened her front door to Cash.

  She shouldn’t feel so disillusioned, but she did. She felt as if she’d been robbed of her grand moment. She felt let down. And that told her more than she needed to know.

  Cash mattered to her. His opinion mattered to her, and, while she’d see him soon enough, having him choose some stupid business over her rankled.

  Bad enough she had a bunch of feelings careening out of control, now she could add disappointment to the mix. For the first time since her disastrous marriage, she was willing to take a chance on letting a guy into her heart.

  And she’d hoped to let Cash know that tonight.

  But to feel this crushed...had her feelings really moved beyond like and into love?

  And if so, was she ready for it?

  Lucy picked up the lip-gloss with a shaky hand and waited until it stopped trembling before applying a final coat.

  She compressed her lips together, then puckered up at the mirror, perfectly rote motions before a night out.

  But all the final touches in the world wouldn’t change facts.

  She might have fallen in love with Cash Burgess.

  A guy who didn’t do commitment.

  Her hands started shaking again and she headed for the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of Riesling and downed it in five gulps.

  The alcohol burned her throat, she drank it that quick, but it was nothing compared to the burn of something stronger in her chest.

  Needing more courage but knowing another glass of wine wasn’t the answer, she re-corked. After twenty-five futile minutes of channel surfing, pacing the lounge and checking her reflection in the hallway mirror to ensure she looked okay, it was a relief when the doorbell rang.

  Seeing Cash would settle her nerves. Or send them into orbit. As long as she didn’t have a crash landing either way.

  She opened the door to find a driver in a uniform with the PR company logo on his left breast pocket.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Grant. I’m here to take you to the ball.’

  Right sentiment. Wrong guy.

  She forced a smile. ‘Thanks.’

  He stood back and waited as she slipped her phone into her evening bag, locked up and preceded him down the porch steps to the car.

  The driver held open a back door and she slid into the leather confines of the limo, annoyed by the irrational sting of tears.

  She shouldn’t be this disappointed. Cash’s work was important to him, she understood that. Heck, they wouldn’t be together, fake or otherwise, if he weren’t hell-bent on ensuring his business was front and centre.

  So why did she feel like bawling as the driver closed the door, slipped behind the steering wheel and started the car?

  He had the petition up, something she was eternally grateful for. She didn’t want to make small talk. She didn’t want to do much of anything but sit back and ponder whether she was overreacting.

  If she had a client crisis, she would do everything in her power to fix the problem. Understandable Cash would do the same.

  But she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit being a teensy-weensy bit annoyed that he’d put work ahead of her on this important night.

  It was the grand finale of their sham relationship and all indications pointed to him not wanting this to end as much as her.

  She’d hoped to make a grand entrance with him at the ball, had hoped to prove to him she could be a part of his world.

  She’d never felt so alive as she had this past week and Cash was a part of that. For her to be willing to take a risk, she’d been pretty damn sure he reciprocated her feelings.

  Her doubts had been silenced following her chat with Gram yesterday. She’d seen the rock-solid relationship her grandparents had had, based on mutual respect and love. She wanted that. And knowing Gram might have been aware of Pops’ foibles but loved him unconditionally went a long way to convincing Lucy that maybe it wasn’t so bad taking a risk on following her heart if it felt right.

  ‘We’re here, miss.’

  The driver stopped outside the Melbourne Town Hall, a glorious old building she loved for the architecture. As he held the door open her gaze landed on a flower vendor selling a gorgeous array of flowers and fruit nearby.

  She loved this city, loved the many gardens surrounding the CBD. She couldn’t live anywhere but the Garden State. Yet she suddenly knew in her heart that if Cash moved to Timbuktu she’d move there too to be with the man she loved.

  The driver tipped his cap. ‘Have a pleasant evening, miss.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lucy mounted the stairs alongside fellow ball attendees, her earlier enthusiasm returning.

  The rustle of silks, the smell of expensive fragrances, the gleam of cufflinks surrounded her and she swept into the foyer, eagerly scanning the crowd in search of her man.

  It took her less than ten seconds to locate him, and two seconds to process what she was seeing.

  Cash’s client crisis involved a voluptuous TV presenter in a staggeringly low-cut black dress draped all over him, one hand resting on his chest, the other around his waist, while she gazed up at him in adoration.

  And Cash was laughing, his head bent low to hear what the blonde was saying, their bodies pressed against each other.

  The old Lucy would’ve turned and run, as she’d run after learning of Adrian’s infidelities.

  But the new Lucy had learned to harden her resolve over the years and wouldn’t back down without a fight.

  How many times had she seen pictures of Cash just like this—with some beautiful woman all over him—online when she’d Googled him after he’d first asked her to be his fake girlfriend?

  Too many to count, considering it was his job to provide financial advice to the stars. Socialising was part of his job, his version of professional networking, so finding him here with a semi-famous woman shouldn’t have been a shock.

  What was shocking was the intense jealousy making her shake with every step that took her closer to the jocular couple.

  Whatever he’d done, he’d averted the crisis. Too bad Lucy was now the one at risk of having a crisis of her own.

  She dragged in calming breaths, flexing and unflexing her fingers the closer she got. It helped. Until she saw the blonde slip her hand underneath the lapel of Cash’s tux jacket, an intimate gesture that he should’ve rebuffed. He didn’t.

  He caught sight of her at that moment and, rather than appearing guilty, he had the audacity to beam at her as if he’d been waiting for her all his life.

  ‘Luce, come and meet Ivenka.’ He slipped out from under the blonde’s clutches to place a kiss on her cheek and draw her close to him.

  She tried not to stiffen but he must’ve noticed the barest flinch, for he shot her a quick glance.

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Lucy held out her hand to the blonde, who hesitated before shaking it.

  Looked as if Ivenka didn’t return the sentiment, as she quickly excused herself and melted into the crowd.

  ‘You look stunning.’ He held her at arm’s length, his sweeping stare starting at her toes and working upwards. ‘Exquisite.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, wishing this could’ve happened at her house, with just the two of them, not with the after-effects of her jealousy making her want to say crazy things. Things like, Do you really like me or are you a two-timing loser too?

  ‘Ready to go in?’ He held out the crook of his elbow and she threaded her hand through it.

  ‘Sure.’

  They’d barely taken a step when Lucy blurted, ‘Was the crisis averted?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Ivenka’s brother was siphoning her money. I managed to avert the prospect of lawyers and court.’

  Lucy wanted to ask, ‘And none of that could’ve waited ’til morning?’ but she settled for, ‘Glad you got it sorted.’

  ‘Me too.’ He paused and tilted her chin up so she had no option but to look into those beautiful blue eyes she’d grown to love. ‘Gives me all evening to focus on my gorgeous date.’

  Not girlfriend. Fake or otherwise.

  Date.

  Yep, this evening was getting better by the minute. Lucy faked a smile. ‘They’re announcing the winners soon. We should get to our table.’

  Confusion clouded his eyes but he didn’t push it. ‘Okay, Cinders, let’s go in.’

  As they entered the ballroom, complete with pink and red heart-shaped helium balloons tied to every surface, silver-foiled Cupids stuck everywhere and towering red rose centrepieces that made every table look like a hothouse, Lucy had a sneaking suspicion her Prince Charming might just be a pumpkin after all.

  * * *

  Cash did this for a living. Schmoozed and backslapped and listened to TV stars drone on, so consumed by their self-importance they didn’t know when to stop.

  He should be used to it but tonight he was off his game. His grand plans to romance Lucy in style had been shot. First with Ivenka’s dramatic crisis when she’d arrived on his doorstep as he’d been getting ready for the ball, and now with the constant parade of well-wishers who wanted to shake his hand or pat him on the back because of his favourite status to win tonight.

  He couldn’t give a rat’s ass who won tonight. He’d achieved his objective. Re-signing many old clients, holding onto those in danger of leaving him, and gaining some hugely positive PR for his company. He’d heard earlier today that the jilted starlet who’d threatened his reputation had left the country to try her luck in Hollywood. Considering her B-grade acting skills, she was going to need that luck and plenty of it.

  So he should have been flying tonight. But something had him on edge: Lucy’s uncharacteristic coolness. Sure, she smiled and nodded and pretended to genuinely be interested in every person that came up to chat, but he could see the signs.

  The slight angling of her body away from his.

  The infrequent handholding.

  The inability to meet his eyes for longer than a few seconds.

  The subtle withdrawing with every smile fading too soon, her forced laughter at his jokes, the worry clouding her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  Was she preparing to revert to his gardener after tonight? Was that why she was behaving like this?

  He had to reassure her, had to convince her how much she meant to him. The sooner they could slip out of this place, the better.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention?’ The PR firm’s CEO waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing. ‘Can I also have the competing couples move towards the front and line up below the stage?’

  ‘Ready to strut your stuff one last time?’ he said, holding out his hand to Lucy.

  Her hesitation was imperceptible to all but the practised eye but he saw it, and his concern doubled.

  ‘Let’s do this.’ She slipped her hand into his, its cold clamminess at odds with her usual warmth.

  ‘You okay?’ he murmured as they headed for the stage.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Her terse one-syllable response inspired him even less.

  They waited at the bottom of the stage while the CEO droned on about the fun of romance and the importance of Valentine’s Day and one lucky couple’s dream date. And all the while, Lucy kept her gaze fixed on the CEO, not glancing his way even when he squeezed her hand.

  Yep, something was seriously wrong.

  ‘And now I’d like to announce the winner.’ The CEO made a big show of opening a sealed envelope, when, if the online voting was anything to go by, they’d won by a landslide.

  He’d looked forward to whisking Lucy away on a dream date, especially after tonight when he’d hoped to lay his heart on the line.

  Now? He wasn’t so sure.

  The CEO cleared his throat. ‘This couple won by a huge margin, earning the title of Most Romantic Valentine’s Day Couple.’

  He paused and rattled the envelope for dramatic effect. ‘Congratulations to Cash Burgess and Lucy Grant. You win the Valentine’s Day dream date, courtesy of GR8 4U Public Relations. Enjoy.’

  A loud cheer went up as people wanting to hug and air-kiss and congratulate besieged them.

  Cash tried his best to hold onto Lucy’s hand but she slipped away in the sheer volume of people wanting to get closer to them.

  He craned his neck, searching for her, and their gazes collided, hers quietly accepting of...? What? This mayhem?

  This meant nothing, a momentary glitch before the real aim of the evening started: him getting her alone so they could talk about their future.

  He smiled, hoping she’d understand that once this mayhem subsided they were out of here.

  It must’ve lost something in the translation because Lucy turned away, leaving him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.