I met billionaire Topher Brodie in the most graceful way possible: by crashing my airport shuttle into his limo. He didn't take it well. Actually, he got me fired. The only upside? I figured I'd never see him again. So imagine my shock when I overheard him introducing me as his girlfriend. His what now? Turns out, Topher's mom is sick, and to keep her life stress-free, he invented a relationship . . . with me, Kathleen Avery. Frankly, I'm shocked that anyone believes that we're a couple. He's a workaholic in a thousand-dollar suit with a private plane, a yacht, and several vacation homes, and he usually dates supermodels. And me? Well, I'm not a supermodel, and my net worth couldn't cover his dry-cleaning bill. It was only supposed to last a few weeks. Just long enough to help him out and get a warm place to crash in return. No feelings, no strings, just one absurd lie. But the longer I play along, the harder it gets to remember what's fake. And what's not.