“I won’t say anything either,” I reply. “The less people who know, the better.”
“What about your father?” she asks.
“He won’t be a problem.” I’m not going to give him a chance to argue.
She looks doubtful, but turns her gaze back at the contract. The second half contains some performance guidelines.
“Appearance Quotas,” she reads out loud. “Ms. Ross must accompany Mr. Davis to at least twelve public functions.” She looks up. “Twelve? Eek!”
“We have to be seen in public, Chess. That’s the whole point.”
“I guess… but twelve!”
“Over six months? That’s only two a month.”
She looks pained. “Please don’t make me be sociable.”
I chuckle. “I’m afraid I can’t move on that. It’s the whole point of the bargain.”
“I suppose.” She narrows her eyes. “All right.” She looks back at the contract. “An Affection Clause? ‘Displays of affection should be natural but appropriate?’” She looks at Tane. “You want me to sign a contract that says I’ll kiss him naturally? Who decides whether or not a kiss is natural?”
“I’ll take it upon myself to ensure authenticity,” I tell her.
“I’m not kissing you,” she states.
I frown. “Is the thought so abhorrent?”
She ignores me and glares at Tane. “I’d like that clause taken out.”
He concentrates on pouring us a glass of water each.
“No,” I say. “Come on, we can’t be engaged and not kiss.”
“We’ll just say I’m shy.”
“There will need to be kissing,” I say firmly. “We can include a clause that says no tongues if you like.”
Tane coughs into his glass, and I chuckle.
Chessie groans. “This is a nightmare.” She looks back at the contract. “What’s this about expense coverage? What does that mean?”
“For appropriate clothing and accessories,” Tane confirms.
“For ‘appropriate’ clothes? This really is Pretty Woman, isn’t it?”
I frown. “You’re insulted because I want to give youmoremoney?”
“Because you want to tell me what to wear. I have my own wardrobe, thank you very much.”
“We’ll be going to some upmarket events.” My voice holds a touch of sarcasm. She’s indignant because I want to give her a clothing budget? Most women would kill for that. “Ten-year-old jeans, Alien T-shirts, and gumboots won’t pass muster, I’m afraid.”
She glares at me. I glare back.
Tane clears his throat. “Can I be honest with you both?”
She turns her laser gaze on him. “Please do.”
“I’ve known Kingi a long time,” he says. “I can honestly say this is the most hare-brained scheme he’s ever come up with, and that’s saying something. A hundred thousand isn’t nearly enough to justify spending six months with thisroro hurepo.” It literally means ‘brains of mud.’ He’s calling me an idiot. “So I’d recommend taking as much money as he’s offering and crossing your fingers that the next six months go extremely fast.”