The Pretense

Chapter 12

Stalking into the breakfast room the next morning, Matt plastered what he hoped was an easy smile across his face.

Harper was there, as were Callum, Frank and another female guest decked out in a Lycra leotard.

Matt hadn’t returned to the bedroom he shared with Harper for a good two hours after she’d walked off the dance floor the night before and when he had, it had been to find her curled up in the middle of the huge bed.

He’d slept on the floor.

If you could call staring at the bedroom ceiling all night sleeping. Then he’d risen early and gone for a run, so he didn’t know what mood Harper was in. By the look of the dark shadows beneath her eyes, she hadn’t slept much either.

“Maverick, you’re up early.”

Matteo’s gaze turned from Harper to Callum. He hated the familiarity with which Callum addressed him but it was one of those things that came with success. Men always thought he was their best friend and women always wanted to nail him. Well, except Harper, who might prefer to put an axe through his head than lay a finger on him after what happened last night.

He poured muesli from the selection of breakfast cereal arranged on the sideboard into a bowl and pulled out the dining chair beside the woman he was supposed to act as if he was in love with. He’d been chivalrous last night – truly, unselfishly chivalrous for the first time in his life – and he had no doubt she’d thank him for it later. Hopefully more than he was thanking himself right now.

“As are you.” He glanced up at Harper and her grip tightened around the shiny fork she was using as a weapon against a grapefruit.

“Habit,” Callum said. “No sleeping in when you’re raised on a cattle station. So, are you up for a game of tennis later today?”

“Thank you.” Matteo accepted hot coffee from the maid who had just materialized at his side.

“As I explained before you insisted I have breakfast, Callum,” Harper interjected, “I have to get back to the city by lunchtime.”

“What could be so important you have to rush back on a glorious day like this?”

Covering for her slight hesitation, Matteo jumped in. “Unfortunately, I have to go over a new engine with my engineers today.”

Harper glanced up at him through the screen of her sooty lashes and he was disconcerted to find that he couldn’t read her expression.

“And have you given any more thought on my proposal, Mav? To represent Real Sport?” Callum asked, confidence brooding from every word.

Not expecting such a direct question, Matt hesitated. He would have liked to tell Callum what he thought of his business tactics, but Harper stayed him with her hands on his.

“I’ve advised Matteo to set aside any final decisions about working on your campaign until after our business is concluded. I wouldn’t want to muddy the waters by mixing the two – as I’m sure you can appreciate.”

The skin around Callum’s eyes tightened briefly before the man recovered himself. He clearly hadn’t been expecting Harper to turn tables on him so neatly. And neither had Frank, who started choking on his eggs.

Matt had actually been considering telling his publicist to accept the Real Sport deal in a bid to help Harper win the account, but perhaps he didn’t need to. It really wouldn’t affect him all that much, so long as Callum’s company fitted the strict criteria he insisted on and was willing to pay one of his pet charity organizations an exorbitant sum of money for the priviledge.