The Fix Up Read Online Free Page A

dressy.
    “Thank you. And you look . . .”
    Sterling is dressed in a navy button-down shirt that clings in a distracting way across his muscular chest, shoulders, and biceps, and then tapers down to reveal a trim waist. Dark-washed jeans and laced brown boots complete the casual, yet sexy look.
    When he raises his eyebrows at me, I realize he’s still waiting for the other half of that sentence. Handsome. Nice. Good. Sexy. Lickable. Worse, fuckable. I mean, holy shit, positively rideable.
    “Appropriate,” I blurt.
    A slight twitch in his jaw is the only reaction I get before he slides into his seat.
    As flickers of white candlelight dance in the shadows, it takes me a moment to truly get my bearings. How in the world I’m supposed to wine and dine with this gorgeous man and talk intelligently about getting him married off, I haven’t a clue. Talk about an awkward situation.
    Tamping down a wave of sudden nerves, I lower myself into the seat across from him and swallow the lump in my throat.
    This shouldn’t feel like a date, yet everything I’ve rehearsed with Anna flies out the window the second he sits back in his seat and appraises me with those navy-blue eyes, the hint of a smirk still lingering on his lips. It doesn’t help that I’ve forgotten my notebook. Then again, maybe it was for the best. I don’t want to look like a total amateur, reading the notes I prepared the night before.
    When I’m around Sterling, I feel unsure and uncomfortable. Off-kilter. Definitely off my game. With his chiseled jaw and perfect, full lips that are designed for long, sensual kisses, and hair just long enough on top to pull, it takes me a moment to pull myself together. He shouldn’t affect me this way, but it’s obvious he does.
    Aiming to regain some of the upper hand, I square my shoulders and lean in. “So, what are your intentions?”
    “My intentions?” His mouth twitches with the beginning of a smile.
    It’s beguiling. Dammit .
    “Yes.” I stiffen. “Are we talking Busty Bimbo Barbie who will stick around only long enough to get a piece of your inheritance, and then you annul the marriage and forget the whole thing ever happened? Or true love happily ever after?”
    He chuckles, the sound warm and silky. Sensual, even. “It’s improper to talk business before we’ve even had our first cocktail.”
    He lifts the chilled bottle of champagne from its resting place and pours us each a glass. The golden bubbles fizz and fade quickly as I lift the elegant flute to my lips.
    “To working together. Cheers.” He raises his glass toward mine before taking a sip.
    I nod, acknowledging his toast. Swallowing a sip of the cool champagne, I appreciate the crisp taste. “This has got to be the most unique project I’ve ever worked on.”
    “It’ll be fun,” Sterling says.
    The server swings by our table, and after a brief glance at the menu, we order the exact same thing, which seems odd given the vast number of choices. Steak, cooked medium-well, with green salad and a glass of red wine.
    Once we’re alone again, I ask, “So, are you going to answer my question?”
    “About my intentions, wasn’t it?”
    I take another sip of champagne and give him a slight nod.
    Sterling folds his hands on the table in front of him and leans in. I have no idea what he can possibly be thinking as his expression remains impassive, so as not to give anything away. “I want to answer that I don’t believe in true love. I want to tell you that it’s a crock of shit.”
    “But you’re not going to?”
    With a shake of his head, he leans back. “No. Given what I do for a living, and the fact that I see couples and families ripped apart and the pain it causes, the last thing I want to do is make a hypocrisy out of this.”
    That’s not necessarily what I was expecting, but it’s admirable to hear him say that he’s open to this process. I figured it would be just about the money, and he’d only want the woman around long