His Pretend Girl Read Free

walk in them, even though I’d been practicing at home for the last two evenings. With skyscraper stiletto heels, glossy patent leather, and pointy toes, they were the ultimate dancing shoes—and bright, fire-engine red of course. My funky alter-ego was coming out to party, for one night only. Watch out, Matthew Bradley .
    How would I play it? Sashay up to him and say hello? Smile at him while dancing with Ben? I’d played the scene in my head a dozen times. Matthew would do a double take at my changed appearance. He’d give me that sexy, panty-dropping smile I’d seen him use so often, and he’d reach out to touch my hair. Dorothy, you’re beautiful , he’d say. He’d use my real name. He’d ask me to dance, and we’d get all hot and sweaty on the dance floor, and he’d be unable to take his eyes off me.
    It had to work. My heart beat faster, as I wondered about the opposite happening, and I squashed that thought right away. If I didn’t know myself in the mirror, he couldn’t fail to notice me.
    Ben had insisted he’d pick me up, and I was ready with plenty of time to spare. I stared out of the window, not seeing the beautiful stretch of coastline that I normally admired. All I could see was Matthew. I forced myself to ignore the growing list of his girlfriends, the names on auto-repeat in my head.
    The doorbell pinged, and my stomach cramped with excitement. Ben . His reaction would be a good test of how well I’d polished my appearance. Taking a deep breath to try and quell the anxiety swirling in my gut, I grabbed my beaded shoulder bag and the matching pashmina, and then walked slowly down the stairs to the front door. I’d already figured that to be able to walk in these shoes, I had to move with care. In the event of a fire, earthquake, or other must-run emergency, I’d have to abandon my heels and flee barefoot. Still, remembering to walk heel-toe with each step brought a rare elegance to my gait. If I couldn’t walk another step in them, I’d just stand in one place for the night, with my long skirt drawn back slightly to show the divine pointiness and the delicate tooling in the leatherwork. They were art.
    I opened the door, just as the bell pinged again. The moment of truth.
    A handsome man in a tuxedo stared back at me. Oh my God, it was Ben. A tux? I did a double take, my gaze sweeping up and down in amazement. A black jacket and slacks, ice white shirt, and neat black bowtie. I’d only ever seen him in jeans and a T-shirt, with tennis shoes or flip flops. Now he wore black, polished leather shoes. His hair was shorter and rumpled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it, and his blue eyes were wide as he looked at me.
    “ Ben .”
    “ Dorothy .”
    We spoke at the same time, but he recovered first. “Jesus. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Dorothy.” He looked dazed, and shook his head briefly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—uh… What I meant… You’re beautiful.”
    My chest warmed, and my cheeks heated, as he echoed back the words I hoped to hear from Matthew. I gestured toward him. “You scrub up well, yourself. Where did you get the tux?”
    “I…uh.” He tugged at the tie. “Hired.”
    I touched my temple with one fingertip. “No glasses?”
    “Lenses.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a charmingly bashful move, and I nodded. He looked amazing. I felt a pang of unease at our plan. It still didn’t seem fair to use him like this, but he’d insisted it was fine. He’d mentioned a girl he wanted to go with, so maybe he was using me to make her jealous? My thoughts danced and skittered on overdrive, and I realized he was smiling at me. He held out one hand and nodded toward the Mag-Car at the curb. “My lady, our taxi awaits.”
     
    ****
     
    The party was being held in the top floor function room of one of the city’s swankiest hotels. I’d always known there was a lot of money in the insurance business, and this lavish event confirmed it. This being New