Yeah, I might be halfway to dreamland, but I’m not going to say those words out loud. Instead, I murmur, “Sticky and naked works. As long as I’m with you.”
CHAPTER 17
KAYLA
“When were you planning to tell me you’re getting remarried?”
“Hi, Mom.” I pull Luna away from the discarded brown paper bag lying across our favorite Central Park path—although “favorite” might be a bit of an exaggeration. We haven’t even been here a week. Certainly not long enough to have preferences.
But long enough to sleep with a man I’m not planning to marry.
“Gavin and I were going to call you,” I say, leading Luna and her Labrador appetite farther from the nearby trash bin. Half of New York seems to have missed the green receptacle marked waste judging by the items on the ground. “We’ve been busy settling the dogs into New York City.”
“Your mother should be the first person you call when you accept a marriage proposal.”
Okay, she sounds like she’s reciting a rule from Emily Post’s Manners Guide, but she has a point. “I know. I’m sorry, Mom. We were just …”
Preoccupied with Gavin’s blackmailing former lover.
“You’re not sure it will last,” my mom says.
In the background, I swear I hear the sound of a golf cart. I picture her whirling around her gated retirement community, waving to the neighbors as she heads for the driving range. Her life sounds like a retiree’s fairy tale. But I know there have been bumps along the way. We lost my dad to cancer when I was in college. After that it took her years to find her place in the world. Then she discovered golf and fell in love with the sport.
“Mom—”
“To be honest, sweetheart, I think you’re right,” my mom continues.
“I am?” I don’t hear those words a lot from my mom. She hated Mr. Mistake before I even married him. But I’d spent too many years in a world where my mother was always right that I refused to listen. Then again, Gavin probably filled her in on the details of our plan. She’s probably teasing me.
“I love Gavin,” my mom says. “But after all he’s been through in his life, I’m not sure he’s the best fit for you.”
Does she know we’re pretending?
I freeze in the middle of the path. Luna tugs on her leash as if eager to find the next trash bin. Instead, I lead her over to a bench on the edge of a manicured field, grateful that I decided to take her out for a solo walk today.
I sink onto the wooden bench. I knew my mother would wonder why I didn’t call her right away. But I wasn’t sure how to explain our plan.
Hi, mom. Gavin and I are going to trick the world into believing we were engaged because Gavin’s past had come back to haunt him …. That don’t sound like something I should ever say to my mother. She isn’t a smoke and mirrors person. Mom lives for facts, even after retiring from her accounting firm.
“I know Gavin is excited,” my mom says.
“How?” My brow furrows. My mother golfs and volunteers as if the requirement to donate all her free afternoons to charitable causes arrived with her AARP card. “Mom, where did you learn about our engagement?”
“I spoke to Gavin just now. I’d called to ask him for a donation to my local animal shelter. They are in desperate need of supplies. The last hurricane flooded their supply room, and he was so generous when we needed to rebuild the library—”
“Mom, I know about the shelter,” I interrupt. “Gavin told you that we were engaged? He told you the entire story, with all of the facts?”
I place particular emphasis on that last question because we agreed to tell my mother the truth about our so-called engagement. Gavin wrote that rule. If she heard about our engagement from a friend who reads gossip magazines, I would understand why she believes her daughter plans to marry New York’s most eligible billionaire bachelor.
“Yes, Kayla. He explained about the person who shot at you while walking your dog. That’s another time when one of your first calls should have been your mother, when someone shoots a gun at you while you’re walking your dog.”
“You’re right. If it even happens again, I’ll call you after the vet.”
My mother snorts. “I trust Gavin will have me on speed dial. I had a few words with him this morning.”
“Did you also share your feelings about our engagement?” I ask, still waiting for my mother to reveal that she knows we’re pretending. Maybe Gavin decided to toss all of the rules out the window.
Are we abandoning all the rules?
“Of course not.” The golf cart buzzes in the background again. “For all of that boy’s success, he’s still fragile.”
There was nothing delicate about Gavin last night. I mentally picture Gavin above me, his powerful arms holding his torso over my body while he thrust into me. Powerful, erotic, orgasm-inducing … but not fragile.
“We’re thirty-five, Mom. We’re not kids anymore.”
“Sweetheart, Gavin’s in a different place in his life. I worry about him. In many ways, he’s still a child forced to face the world alone.”
“That’s not true,” I say. “He’s always had me.”
“There have been times you were more caught up in your own life, Kayla. When you were married to that awful doctor, Gavin called me every few days. He wanted to storm your house and drag you away.”
“I know. Gavin called me too, trying to convince me to pack my bags and make a run for it.”
“And you did leave. When you were ready,” my mother says.
No, I left when I could no longer recognize myself.
Gavin stepped in and took control. He pulled my life together for me, buying the property next to his in the country. He hired the lawyers to initiate my divorce. He made sure I had groceries. If I’d wanted to go back to teaching, he would have applied for the job and taken me to the interviews. He rebuilt the outer layers of my world, and then he handed it over like a Christmas present.
“I couldn’t have left without Gavin,” I say.
“Don’t say that. He might have driven the car, but you made the decision to leave. You’re stronger than you think, Kayla. You realized you needed to be free from that ass you married and you accepted help. You built a life for yourself. I don’t want to see all of your hard work slip away when Gavin heads back to New York City and his parade of women.”
“Mom, that won’t happen,” I insist.
“Yes, sweetheart, it will. I love Gavin like a son, but he’s emotionally walled off from the world. It’s the only reason he survived after living with that awful foster family. But it means he’ll be a terrible husband.”
“And you wonder why I didn’t call you to share the happy news of our engagement,” I say dryly.
“I want you to think this through before you set a date and dive into wedding planning. You wanted to open up an animal sanctuary—”
“He’s going to fund it,” I say.
“Because you agreed to marry him?” She makes a dismissive sound. “Or because he’s your friend?”
“Because he loves me,” I say. That hasn’t changed. No matter how many rules he breaks.
Of course, he did lie to my mother. It’s possible he threw all the rules out the window. Including the one about when we end our fake engagement.
No, he wouldn’t. Not after one night of sex. He wouldn’t assume that we were actually going to …
He wouldn’t make that leap. Gavin has sex all the time …
My hand tightens on Luna’s leash as a spark of jealousy rears its ugly head. And okay, it might be more like a wild fire threatening to wreak havoc on my emotions. Jealousy is probably a side effect of waking up with my hand on his too-perfect abs. And I have every right to feel a little possessive after what we did last night. I’m not ready to wrap him up with a bow and present him to the next Alexandra.
“Mom, I need to go,” I say quickly. “I’ll keep you updated on the wedding plans.” And have Gavin call you when we en
d this mess to explain everything.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too.” I end the call and lower the phone. Luna stares up at me, and then she turns her head, cone and all, to the trail as if eager to continue her solo walk.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to be his fake fiancée in the first place,” I mutter. Luna turns her attention back to me. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold on …”
To my heart. To my sense of self. To my independence. To my dignity.
I don’t say the words out loud. I haven’t lost anything yet. It was one night. It’s amazing we’ve been friends for this long without having sex. He’s a gorgeous man. It was bound to happen at some point. And it doesn’t change anything. At least not for me.
I wonder if Gavin feels the same?
My phone vibrates against the palm of my hand. I glance down at the text message from … drumroll please … Gavin. It’s as if he felt me thinking about him and decided to send me a message demanding I call him.
“Gavin, just the man I need to talk to,” I say when he answers.
“Are you at the apartment?”
“No, I’m out—”
“Alexandra is on Good Morning with Charlene. She’s doing the morning show circuit.”
“She has more pictures?” I drag Luna back to the bench and sit down again. I can hear the panic in Gavin’s voice. Everything else fades into the background. We can discuss what last night meant to our friendship later. Tomorrow I can demand that he call my mother back and tell her the truth. Right now, he needs me.
“No pictures.”
“That’s good,” I point out.
“She’s attacking you.” It’s not fear that gives his deep voice a sharp edge, but fury. “Alexandra’s talking about your failed marriage, and how I helped you out of it. She’s telling fucking Charlene that I paid your legal bills.”
“You did,” I say simply.
“She claims that our long friendship proves we’re friends and our engagement is a sham.”
“What was the host’s reaction?” I demand.
“Charlene laughed and suggested that was a little far-fetched. But how the hell did Alexandra find out?”
“She’s guessing. Or smarter than we gave her credit for,” I say. “The only thing we can do now is prove her wrong.”
“How?” he demands.
I take a deep breath. I shouldn’t suggest this. Not now. Not after last night. But we have to do something.
“It might help if we start planning the wedding,” I say.
“Hell, maybe we should go to the court house and get married today.”
My breath catches in my throat. His proposal, his marriage proposal, highjacks my emotions, sending them into a tailspin. There’s a voice in my heads screaming maybe we should. That’s probably the same inner voice that pushed me to take off my shirt at the concert last night. She might even be the mastermind behind the champagne in the bedroom. And she’s probably still high on the post-orgasm endorphins. She can’t be trusted.
My heart sinks. My best friend just proposed with a “maybe we should …” line over the phone. The logical voice in my head tells me to hang up now. A marriage proposal, even a decent one, can lead to disaster. But one made for entirely the wrong reasons is guaranteed to implode.
I stare out across the field beside the path. Strollers dot the landscape. Small children crawl off blankets onto the grass while their caregivers chat. Everyone is bundled up in coats and jackets, enjoying the crisp fall day. It’s a beautiful tableau, apart from one piece.
Me.
I don’t belong here.
I should be at home in the country, not discussing a trip to the courthouse with Gavin. Has he lost his mind? Did the sex affect his brain?
I close my eyes, blocking out central park and the dog pressing her cone against my leg.
“You would get married instead of admitting that you were beaten and abused as a kid?” I ask, although I know the answer. Gavin Black would do anything to appear invincible. No matter how much I love him, I cannot marry a man whose happiness is directly linked to his ability to hide part of himself. Heck, I can’t marry any man who proposes over the phone.
“It’s bad enough that it happened,” he says slowly. “I won’t let anyone connect me to that broken, weak kid in the pictures. I’ll do anything to deny it. But I never thought she would dredge up your marriage like this. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s part of who I am.”
“Kayla, she’s on national TV claiming you’ve always been a puppet for the men in your life.”
I picture the bedroom I shared with Mr. Mistake. He selected every piece of furniture and décor down to the books lining the shelves. Yet, I had to quit my job, at his request, to focus on decorating that horrible space.
“She’s right,” I say simply. “I felt like a puppet for years.”
“I never saw you that way.”
I reach for Luna, needing to feel her soft Labrador fur beneath my hands. Ignoring his comment, I continue. “I still think the best plan is to ignore her and start planning our wedding as if everything she says is pure crazy talk.”
“Kayla.” There’s a long pause, then he adds. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay Gavin, we’re going to get through this. It’s just more complicated than we predicted.”
Isn’t that the understatement of the century? I slept with the one person in the world I need to keep in my life. Well, the one person aside from my mother, who now believes I’m going to actually marry my best friend against her objections.
And Gavin’s blackmailing ex dragged my failed marriage into the spotlight.
“Complicated” doesn’t quite cover it.
“Kayla.” He’s quiet for a moment and I wonder if someone walked into his office and distracted him. “I don’t regret last night. Real, fake, I want you in my bed again.”
Okay, so he’s still alone—and willing to dive deeper into the wild, swirling river of complications.
Say no.
If I were following the logical route, I would thank him for the offer of sex in his office. But despite the fact that I can picture exactly how that would play out right down to the mind-blowing his and her orgasms, my heart can’t take it. In fact, I need to pack up right now and head for the country. I should close the door on the possibility of having sex with Gavin ever again.
Luna whimpers and I open my eyes. I stare at the Labrador eager to continue her walk. Didn’t I promise myself when I left Mr. Mistake that I would listen to my heart and my gut no matter what anyone else thought? Of course, I never thought I’d end up here. But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to run away and hide. I want to listen to the voice in my head that says sex on his desk is a brilliant idea. I want to believe I’m strong enough to walk away when this is all over. I want to think I’ll leave knowing that I was true to myself.
“Kayla?” Gavin says. “Did I lose you?”
Never.
He will break my heart in the end, but he’ll never lose me.
“I’m here,” I say. “You know, I could swing by for a lunch date. We could close your office door—”
“Make fake sex sounds to get my staff talking?” The humor in his tone sounds forced, but it’s a step in the right direction. At least he’s not focused on Alexandra’s interview anymore.
“That won’t work,” I say. “You’re horrible at faking an orgasm. You didn’t even try last time.”
“Everyone has an Achilles Heel,” he muses.
“We need to give them something real to listen to.”
“Kayla,” he growls. “How soon can you get here?”
“One hour.”
I stand and pull on Luna’s leash, ready to run back to Gavin’s building and prepare for our date. This is what I want—wild, passionate office sex with a billionaire. “And Gavin?”
“Yes?”
This doesn’t solve our problems.
But I’m guessing he knows that. And if he doesn’t, well now, after he’s watched his ex-girlfriend call our fake engagement a sham on national TV is not the time to tell him we’re in over our heads.
“Call Margaret while you wait. We need her best private investigators looking into Alexandra. It’s time, Gavin. We need to fight back.”
“Already in motion,” he says. “I spoke to her before I called you. Margaret anticipated the request. She’s had a PI looking into Alexandra for two days now. We should have a report soon.”
“She’s amazing.”
“Stop thinking about Margaret and get your butt to my office.”
“One hour,” I say again. “And afterward you need to take me to lunch. Someplace public.”
“Sounds fair. If I get to strip off your panties and feast on you while you sit on my desk, I should probably give you something to eat in return.”
“Gavin.” The scene plays out in my imagination like a homemade sex tape. All of the questions about our future fade away. We’ll find our way out of this mess. We always do. But first, I have a lunch date.
“Yes, Kayla?”
“I’m not planning to wear panties.”
CHAPTER 18
GAVIN
“I’ve spent the last hour and six minutes thinking about your underwear,” I say. Yeah, I know that’s not the traditional, welcome-to-my-office greeting. But today I’m going for truth over the mundane.
I abandon my desk and head for the door. Through the open doorway, I see heads turned in my direction. Every person within earshot probably heard me admit that I haven’t exactly been working for the past hour, but I don’t care right now. My world is spinning out of control, and I’m distracted by Kayla’s panties—or lack thereof.
She steps inside as I push the door closed and turn the lock. Her full lips press together as if she’s biting back a laugh.
Damn, I want to kiss her.
My gaze drops to her oversized sweatshirt. It’s one fashion step above an I Love Cats shirt.
“I wonder—”
“Why you wore jeans instead of a skirt?” I interrupt.
“How you manage a billion dollar company when you waste an entire hour thinking about women’s underwear.” She heads for my desk and sets her oversized brown purse on a chair.
Mr. Misunderstood Page 15
