ALMOST REAL

The Park Avenue gala smelled like money Alannah Reyes would never have. She stood near the dessert table in her only good black dress — tight, hugging curves in all the right places, the way her mother always said "too much" — her dark brunette hair long over one shoulder, green-gold eyes lined sharp, trying not to cry because the email that morning said: Reyes Bakery, Queens, debt $80,421. Due in 30 days. She was 25 and about to lose everything. "You're not supposed to be back here," a tanned hand touched her elbow. Big. Warm. She turned. And forgot how to breathe. Derek Cole. 34. Every Queens girl knew that face from magazines. Tanned, nicely built, tall enough she had to tilt her green-gold eyes up, black hair pushed back, baby blue eyes that looked like you could drown in them, and a short sexy beard that should be illegal. "I'm with catering," she lied, curves easy to see in that little black dress. His baby blue eyes dropped — just for a second — as he looked her up and down, then back to her green-gold eyes. "Catering doesn't wear Louboutins." "They're fake." "They're not." His short beard moved when he smiled. "You look like you're ready to kill someone." "Yeah, I have a list. My landlord. My bank. This whole room." He smiled. "I'm Derek." "Alannah. And I know who you are. You own half this building." "Only a third." He stepped closer, so close she could smell the faint scent of cologne and beard oil. "Why are you really here?" Looking up at him with glassy eyes, she couldn't help but say, "My family bakery in Queens. We're $80k short. I came to ask for a catering contract. They said no." He stared. Their eyes locked and something in him shifted. He said, "I have a proposition for you." "What type of proposition? I'm not doing anything gross." "Very professional." His big tanned hand slid a card into her tiny hand, their fingers brushing. "My mother is here tonight. She wants me to settle down. She has a heart condition. That's not stopping her from trying to set me up. I just need a fake girlfriend for three months. Family events. One gala a month." Alannah looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "And?" "I will pay you $150 for tonight. Pretend you are with me for the next hour. If she likes you — I'll pay you $80,000 for three months." The room went silent. Her green-gold eyes widened. "Eighty thousand dollars?" "Yes." "For pretending to be your girlfriend?" "Yes." "What's the catch?" He leaned in, his beard almost touching her cheek, his baby blue eyes locking with hers. "Rule one: No kissing on the lips. It's for show, not real. Rule two: You stay in Queens, I stay on Park Ave. Rule three: Don't fall for me." She laughed. "Easy. I hate Park Ave boys. Especially pretty boys with baby blues who think they can buy everything." "Good. Hate makes it more believable." He offered his big tanned hand. "Do we have a deal?" She looked at his hand. At her debt. At his baby blue eyes pulling her in. She put her hand in his. "One hour. $150. Let's go meet your mother." His fingers closed around hers. Warm. Firm. Almost real. "Derek, darling," a soft voice said behind them. Baby blue eyes, just like his. Family resemblance evident. She looked at their locked hands, at Alannah's tight black dress hugging her curves. "And who is this?" "This is Alannah," Derek said, his big tanned hand sliding to her waist, pulling her curves close. "My girlfriend." Alannah's green-gold eyes widened. Girlfriend. Evelyn beamed. "Girlfriend? He never brings a girlfriend. I'm Evelyn." "Alannah Reyes. From Queens," Alannah whispered, her tiny hand on his chest feeling his heart beat hard. "Queens? Wonderful. He needs someone real." Evelyn patted her hand. "How long have you two been together?" "Three weeks," Derek said smoothly, his short beard brushing Alannah's temple as he leaned in, his baby blue eyes locked on her green-gold ones. "Privately ." "He's shy," Alannah said, looking up at him. "Even though he acts so tough." Evelyn laughed. "She's perfect. Come have dinner with me, both of you. Alannah, tell me more about yourself I want to hear it all. I can't believe my stubborn son kept you away from me?" Before she could speak he interrupted and told his mother she owned one of the best bakeries in Queens. Alannah froze. Her green-gold eyes snapped to his baby blue ones. He told his mother? His fingers tightened on her waist, his beard near her cheek. "Trust me," he whispered, baby blues holding her green-gold. And for one second, with his big tanned hand on her curves and his baby blue eyes staring at her, she almost did.