Upping the Ante: A Hot Fake Dating Romantic Comedy (Betting on Love Book 4) by Kate Campfield

Author:Kate Campfield [Campfield, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

“It’s got to be that one.” Kat points to a yellow house with white trim.

Three cars are parked on the street in front of the house, and one in the driveway.

I check the street number as I park behind one of the other cars, verifying that this is Dean Kashman’s house. “Nice place. Big for one guy. I thought you said he was single.”

Kat pulls down the mirror and checks her makeup again. “He was married back when I first started at Ardmore. They got divorced…two years ago, I think? No kids.”

Knowing Kashman, I’m not surprised his wife left him.

Kat puts her hand on the door handle, and I softly grip her other arm to stop her. “Hey. You ready?”

Kat smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Shaking my head, I capture her gaze. “The truth.”

She blinks at me slowly, pulling in a deep breath through her nose before she lets it out through her lips. “Okay, fine. I’m nervous. Is that weird? I’m not worried at all about meeting your friends, who are complete strangers, but the idea of walking into this house and socializing with colleagues has me tied up in knots.” Her tongue darts out, licking her lush lips. “There’s a lot riding on this. On us.”

When Kat looks down, I move my fingers to her chin, tipping her face upward to meet my gaze. “We’ve got this, Kat. I’ve got this. Just relax and trust me.”

Something in her softens. It’s subtle, with the slightest relaxation of her shoulders, the ease of the pinch between her brows, the loosening of her jaw. If I weren’t paying attention, I’d have missed it.

Kat may be a strong, independent woman, successful in her career, but there’s another side of her. A side that can lean on a partner who she trusts.

And fuck if it’s not the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen.

My jaw tightens. Nothing real. No feelings, nothing long-term. Because I’ve seen the fallout of “true love,” and I’ll be damned if I’m going to put myself—or someone I care about—in that situation.

Slipping her hand into mine, Kat follows me up the brick walkway to the two-story home.

Dean Kashman’s house looks different from what I expected. For some reason, I pictured a bachelor pad, with a keg in the corner or something. Maybe because he hit on my girl, I expected it to reflect his single lifestyle.

Hold on. Scratch that. Not my girl.

Just for looks.

Anyway.

I’ve barely raised my hand to knock when the door opens, revealing Dean Kashman on the other side.

“Welcome, you two. Glad to have you. Feel free to grab a drink and mingle.”

His house is tastefully furnished, warm, and inviting. A leather armchair sits next to a bookshelf packed full of books. An oriental rug in the center of the living room creates the illusion of a cozy space between the chair and a matching sofa, a coffee table sitting between them, in the otherwise large, open-concept home.

“I think his ex-wife did the decorating,” Kat whispers in my ear, her warm breath tickling my skin.

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