by Annie Rains
“Wow. Thanks, Mom. Um, this isn’t, um, what it looks like.” She gestured at Troy.
“It looks like you had a guest sleep over last night,” her mother said frankly. Her smile was pinched, another fake, pinned expression.
Troy, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed.
“If I had known, I’d have brought two cinnamon rolls,” her mother said pointedly.
“We can share.” Troy winked at Allison. He wasn’t helping the situation at all. Then he offered his hand to her mother. “I’m Troy Matthews. Allison’s date for your Christmas Eve party. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Allison wanted to die. The only thing that could be worse was if Troy was also holding her purple vibrator. “Troy came to my rescue last night. Someone tried to break into my home.”
Her mother’s expression turned sincere. “Oh, my. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but it was scary. I hid in the closet and texted Troy in case the intruder could hear my voice. He called nine-one-one and came right over. I guess the burglar ran off.”
“Lucky for you that you had someone to call.” She looked at Troy. “Thank you for coming to my daughter’s rescue. Who knows what could’ve happened.”
“I insisted on staying over, on the couch”—he gestured to the blanket on Allison’s sofa—“just in case the guy came back. I install home security systems on the side. I’ll be securing your daughter’s home after work today. So she can sleep soundly tonight.” He looked at Allison with those twinkly brown eyes of his.
Her insides melted into a pile of mush. Unbelievably, he’d managed to just turn a bad first impression around. From Allison’s experience, the first impression counted for everything with her mother. But maybe not this one. Now her mother was smiling; she even looked charmed by Troy.
“Excuse me. I need to go get dressed. Then I need to run home, shower, and get to work,” he said.
“Where do you work?” her mother asked.
“I’m an MP on Camp Leon,” he told her.
Her mother nodded. Allison tried to read what she was thinking. A military police officer was a noble profession. Add in saving Allison’s life last night, and Troy was a gem.
He headed down the hall to go get dressed.
Allison’s mother handed her the brown paper bag. “I didn’t realize things were so serious between you two. You only just told me about him a couple of days ago.”
Allison shook her head. “They’re not. Troy was just here to keep me safe. He slept on the couch.”
Her mother lowered her voice. “Allison, you’ve always jumped into things blindly. You know I want you to start dating again. You haven’t seen anyone since that last beau of yours, James. I want you to find someone who makes you truly happy. But please, take things slow this time, okay?”
“Really, Mom. I just can’t win with you. You either think I need counseling because I’m not dating, or you’re unhappy because I am dating. I’m fine. And I’m not jumping into anything blindly.” Except a pretend relationship.
Her mother nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. Which ticked Allison off a little. She wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t need her mother’s permission to have men stay the night with her. She didn’t need her mother’s permission to go slow or fast, or race to the altar and get married to the guy, if she wanted to.
Troy strolled back into the room, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt. He grabbed his truck keys and walked toward Allison. Her heart kicked into gear. There was something about the way he was looking at her that suddenly made her nervous. What was he doing?
“See you tonight, baby,” he said, a mile-long grin on his mouth. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him before she could think or say anything. Then he pressed his lips to hers, just for a moment, and kissed her. His lips were warm, inviting, and for a moment she forgot that her mother was in the room. She forgot that she was Allison Carmichael and wasn’t interested in kissing a strong, attractive man right now. That she was happily single.
Her hand went to his chest as she braced herself in the magic of their kiss.
Pulling away, he held her gaze. She could disappear there in the myriad of browns that colored his eyes.
Then Troy turned and offered his hand to her mother. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Carmichael.”
“Dr. Pierce, actually. I’m remarried,” she explained, sliding a glance at Allison.
Crap, crap, double crap. Her mother had caught Troy not knowing the most basic of information. Allison and her mother didn’t share the same last name because Allison had kept her birth father’s name. The father who’d walked out on her and rarely looked back. The one who refused to give up his parental rights when her stepfather had tried to adopt her.
Troy didn’t look fazed. “Right. Can I bring anything to the party? I make a mean cheese dip.”
“Just bring my daughter,” her mother said, her expression unreadable. Had she sniffed out the truth already? Would she still believe Allison was dating Troy?
Allison prayed that she would be fooled, mainly because if she wasn’t, the whole charade was off. And Allison didn’t want it to be off. She liked the idea of having Troy by her side this coming weekend. She liked the idea that he might just kiss her again.
“Will do.” Troy gave her one more quick look that curled her toes inside her slippers, waved, and stepped onto the porch, closing the front door behind him.
Allison hesitantly turned to her mother, who arched an eyebrow.
Allison held her breath. Here it came. Her mother knew the truth. Two people who were dating would know the details about each other’s childhoods. Why hadn’t she shared her birth father’s abandonment with Troy?
“I don’t want to see you get hurt again,” her mother finally said quietly. “Getting involved with the wrong man can change your life, Allison. That’s why I look out for you so much. I love you too much to allow you to make the same mistakes that I did.”
A soft exhale fell over Allison’s lips. Her mother wasn’t suspicious. “Troy won’t hurt me, Mom.” She wouldn’t let him. Hurting her would mean she’d have to let him get close. And that kiss was as close as she intended to let Troy get.
—
After work Monday night, Troy grabbed his home security supplies and drove the short distance to Allison’s home. He climbed the steps and knocked on her door three times. She must have been waiting for him because the door opened before he could retrieve his hand from the metallic surface of the door.
“Hi.” She smiled brightly, looking genuinely happy to see him.
“I’ve come to make sure you’re safe and secure tonight.”
She waved him in. “Thanks for doing this. I’ve seen the police patrolling through here a couple times since I’ve gotten home from the Veterans’ Center. But I’d still feel much better with some kind of security system installed.”
Troy set his bag on the ground. “It’ll take an hour max. You can get on with whatever you typically do. Pretend like I’m not even here.”
Thoughts of that purple vibrating wand in her bedside drawer flashed through his mind. That was one of the things he’d discovered she typically did when she was alone. Something that had been driving his imagination wild ever since.
“I was actually about to start cooking dinner. Can you stay and eat? I need to repay you somehow.”
Troy looked up. There were a lot of ways he could think of to repay him. “Sure.”
“Great.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
He nodded, not looking up from his bag. He needed to focus. Regroup. Allison had his head spinning. He needed to do something with his hands to work off his excess energy.
The woman in the next room was a look-but-don’t-touch variety, he told himself, securing an alarm to her front door. He didn’t want to be like the last jerk off she’d dated, or the ones before that. He guessed he’d been the same kind of jerk to Jess once upon a
time.
After securing the front door, he headed to do the same to the back door, casting a longing glance at the nightstand drawer as he passed by the bedroom.
Focus, Matthews.
When everything was installed, he entered the kitchen, now swimming in the aroma of a home-cooked meal. It had only been a year since he’d had one of those, the last time he’d visited the house he’d grown up in—last Christmas—but it felt like ages.
“I didn’t realize you were going to go all out for me.” He sat in the bar stool at her kitchen island and watched as she prepared a salad to go with the lasagna she had on the stove.
“It’s the least I can do for last night. And tonight. I’ll feel a lot safer now, thanks to you.”
“Glad I could help. And you can call me anytime, even after our, uh, pretend breakup.” He lifted his brows and Allison smiled.
“That’s right. I hadn’t thought about that yet.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. I’m not so sure I made the best impression on your mother this morning,” he said.
Something crossed Allison’s expression. Troy couldn’t quite place it. Was it regret? Anger? Sadness?
“She’s hard to please.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll be civil to you at the party, I promise.”
He watched Allison work. Her posture was suddenly stony. Allison lifted the dishes she’d prepared for them and carried them to the table.
Troy grabbed the last one and followed suit. “I have a little experience in missing the mark when it comes to other’s expectations for my life, too.” He sat in the chair across from her.
Allison met his eyes. “Is that why you’re not going home for Christmas?”
He smiled. “You are one determined woman, aren’t you? You’re not going to let that one go.”
She pushed the lasagna toward his plate. “Guests first. And no, I’m not.”
He shoved it back. “Ladies first. In fact”—he stood and grabbed the serving spoon—“you cooked, so let me serve you.” He cut a generous slice and placed it on her plate. He did the same to his. Then he took the salad tongs and filled her bowl and his. When he was done, he sat back down. “There. I would serve a third dish in case our intruder friend came back, but your town house is rigged up with my best equipment. No one else is getting in here without your permission.” He winked, enjoying the startled look she gave him with the simplest of flirtations. As if it surprised her, and that surprised him. She had to have guys flirting with her all the time. She was gorgeous, with her silky red hair that fell over her shoulders, green eyes, and soft, pink, kissable lips. He’d kissed those lips this morning and he wanted to do it again.
“So, how do I impress your mom on Saturday?” he asked, pulling his gaze away and scooping pasta into his mouth.
“You can’t. She’ll have a diagnosis of some sort for you by the end of the night.” Allison chewed and swallowed. “Which is great because I can use that as the reason behind our pretend breakup.” A little grin spread on her mouth.
“Are you the one breaking up with me then?” He smiled back at her.
“Of course.”
“I see how it is.” He took several more bites as she continued to tell him about her family, this time including the story of her stepfather.
“Jerry has never treated me as anything less than his own daughter.”
“Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
“He is. We got lucky.”
“And your real dad?” Troy asked, treading softly. The fact that she’d neglected this detail until today told him it was a fragile subject.
“He kept up with me for a while, but then it just got awkward. He’d come visit after not seeing me for a year and we’d be like strangers. Eventually he just fell away from our lives, and I’m fine with that. Jerry is the best father a girl could want.”
Troy watched her. She was acting tough, like it didn’t bother her, but he already knew her better than that. “Your mom can’t be all bad, either. She had you for a daughter, and you’re pretty great. Not a bad cook, either. This was delicious.”
Allison smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, averting her gaze to her own plate. “Thank you.” She looked up. “My mother’s wonderful. She just wants to see me happy.”
“No offense, but you’re an adult. You get to make your own choices.”
Allison stiffened again. “I do make my own decisions. It’s just easier if I appease her sometimes. You don’t know how exhausting she can be when I don’t.”
Troy’s parents had been the opposite. They’d always entertained what he’d wanted, even when he’d told them he didn’t want to run the family businesses right now. He was lucky that they’d encouraged him to follow his aspirations. “Anything else I need to know before I pick you up for the party?”
Allison tapped a finger on her chin. “Don’t drink more than one spiked beverage. My mother will offer, but if you take a second one, she’ll decide you’re an alcoholic. If you refuse the first one, that’s a sign that you’re a recovering alcoholic.”
Troy’s brows dove. “Should I be taking notes?”
“Yes, leave the toilet seat down in the bathroom because leaving it up is an indicator of all kinds of things. And compliment my mother’s cooking no matter if it’s true or not. Don’t compliment her outfit or looks, though, because that could be misconstrued as flirting and mean that you’re going to cheat on me someday.”
“If I do everything right, you’ll have no reason to break up with me, though,” he teased. “And that could be a problem, too.”
Allison shook her head. “Don’t worry about that. My mother will find some fatal flaw in you. I promise. She could find a flaw in Saint Nicholas.”
Troy shifted uncomfortably. “Good to know.”
—
There was a perma-grin on Allison’s face. Her skin stretched uncomfortably and those small muscles in her cheeks were already sore from laughing and smiling so much—Troy’s effect on her.
“Leave the dishes,” she said, as he tried to stand and help her take them to the kitchen sink. “I’ll get them. You’re a guest.”
He continued to stand and reached for a dish.
Then Allison shifted and cried out. “Oww!”
Her left calf muscle tightened mercilessly. She set the dishes back down and braced herself on the table in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” Troy asked, rushing to her side.
“Ow, ow, ow!” She pressed her eyes closed, digging her fingernails into the ridge of the table. “Charley horse. In my calf,” she said breathlessly, waiting for the muscles to relax. They didn’t. “I’ve been taking a new exercise class at the Veterans’ Center and it’s wreaking havoc on my muscles.”
Troy took her gently by the arm and led her to sit in her chair at the table. “What can I do?”
She shook her head as her muscles tightened even harder. “Oh, my God. It hurts so…bad.” She laughed. If she didn’t laugh, the pain was enough to make her cry. And she was not crying in front of Troy. No way.
“Where does it hurt? Right here?” His hand cupped the back of her calf muscle and squeezed softly. He cupped again, squeezed, kneaded the muscle, turning it into putty in his hand. “How’s that?”
Allison’s eyes were still closed, but the pain started to subside under his touch. Under his touch, other body parts awakened, very aware of his magic hands. Without meaning to, a sigh escaped her lips. “Ahh.”
“Feeling better?” His gaze was locked on her as she opened her eyes. The usual twinkling of his brown eyes was now replaced by heat.
She swallowed and looked down. He was on his knees in front of her chair, holding one of her legs in his lap. A few more inches upward and he’d be touching places that were off-limits to pretend boyfriends. “Better,” she agreed, slowly pulling away. Her mouth was dry and her heart was doing this fluttery thing. Unwelcomed tingles suddenly swarmed those areas of her body that he was way too close to.
/> Troy didn’t move. “I don’t think we’re going to have to fake sexual attraction this weekend,” he said. “We have that in spades.”
“Do we?” she asked, knowing darn well they did. Just the way he was looking at her could have made her climax right now. She clutched the arms of her chair, needing to hold on to something to keep her from reaching up and touching his very touchable body. And if she allowed herself to touch him, she might not be able to stop.
“That kiss this morning was enough to occupy my thoughts all day.” His eyes shifted to her lips.
Without thinking, she ran her tongue over the bottom one, making it slick and ready. Just in case he got the idea to kiss her again. Which might not be so bad. Right now her body was doing its best to block her thoughts and make her want all kinds of things she would usually consider a bad idea. She preferred to chase after good ideas, things that were productive.
Kissing Troy could be productive, though. One touch from him could produce a million of those little endorphins that couldn’t be replicated with a thousand bites of dark chocolate. She was pretty sure he could make her feel so good that she wouldn’t be in a bad mood for an entire year.
Grabbing her leg again, he began to massage the muscle that had put them in this very enticing position. “I want things to be believable for your family. We shouldn’t act like two people who are afraid to touch each other,” he said.
Heat coursed through her body. She watched as he lowered his mouth and kissed the back of her calf where she’d experienced so much pain a minute earlier. “You have a good point. My mother is very perceptive. A happy couple should be comfortable touching each other.”
Troy smiled, kissing her calf again. “Exactly my point.” His hand traveled up her knee, veering to the outside of her thigh as he leaned in even closer, the width of his body forcing her legs to part for him. “Let’s try this. How about you put your hands on my shoulders? Touch me.”
She hesitated. There was a war raging inside her: resisting and wanting the man in front of her. But touching his shoulders seemed innocent enough. Until her skin met the rock-hard muscle under his T-shirt. She gave a little squeeze, intrigued by the feel of him.
