by Kat Cantrell
She could really use a hand to hold right about now, but no. She hadn’t told any of her sisters she was getting married, not even Grace, who was closest to her in age and had always been her confidante. Well, until Grace had disappeared into her own family in much the same fashion as their other two sisters had done.
Viv was the cute pony in the Dawson family stable of Thoroughbreds. Which was the whole reason Viv hadn’t mentioned her quickie Vegas wedding to a man who’d never so much as kissed her.
She squared her shoulders. A fake marriage was exactly what she wanted. Mostly.
Well, of course she wanted a real marriage eventually. But this one would get her into the secret club that the rest of the married Dawson sisters already belonged to. Plus, Jonas needed her. Total win across the board.
The chapel was hushed and far more sacrosanct than she’d have expected in what was essentially the drive-through lane of weddings. The quiet scuttled across her skin, turning it clammy. She was really doing this. It had all been conceptual before. Now it was real.
Could you have a nervous breakdown and recover in less than two minutes? She didn’t want to miss a second of her wedding. But she might need to sit down first.
And then everything fell away as she saw Jonas in a slim-fitting dark suit that showcased his wiry frame. His energy swept out and engulfed her, as it always had from that first time she’d turned to see him standing outside her shop, his attention firmly on her instead of the sweet treats in the window.
Quick with a smile, quicker with a laugh, Jonas Kim’s beautiful angular face had laced Viv’s dreams many a night. He had a pretty rocking body, too. He kept in great shape playing racquetball with his friends, and she’d spent hours picturing him shirtless, his chest glistening as he swung a racket. In short, he was a truly gorgeous individual who she could never study long enough to sate herself.
Jonas’s dark, expressive eyes lit up as he caught sight of her and he crossed the small vestibule to sweep her into a hug. Her arms came up around his waist automatically. How, she had no idea, when this was literally the first time he’d ever touched her.
He even smelled gorgeous.
And now would be a great time to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Hey.”
Wonderful. They’d had spirited debates on everything from the travesty of pairing red wine with fish to the merits of the beach over the mountains. Shakespeare, The Simpsons. But put her in the arms of the man she’d been salivating over for months and the power of speech deserted her.
He stepped back. Didn’t help. And now she was cold.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, his smooth voice ruffling all her nerve endings in the most delicious way. Despite being born in North Carolina, he had almost no accent. Good thing. He was already devastating enough.
“Can’t have a wedding with no bride,” she informed him. Oh, thank God, she could still talk, Captain Obvious moment aside. “Am I dressed okay for a fake marriage?”
His intense eyes honed in on her. “You look amazing. I love that you bought a new dress for this.”
Yeah, that was why she passed up the idiots who hit on her with lame lines like “Give me your number and I’ll frost your cupcakes for you.” Jonas paid attention to her and actually noticed things like what she wore. She’d picked out this yellow dress because he’d mentioned once that he liked the color.
Which made it all the more strange that he’d never clued in that she had a huge thing for him. She was either better at hiding it than she’d had a right to hope for, or he knew and mercifully hadn’t mentioned it.
Her pulse sped out of control. He didn’t know, she repeated silently. Maybe a little desperately.
There was no way he could know. He’d never have asked her to do this marriage favor otherwise.
She’d been faking it this long. No reason to panic.
“I wanted to look good,” she told him. For you. “For the pictures.”
He smiled. “Mission accomplished. I want you to meet Warren.”
Jonas turned, absently putting his arm around her and oh, that was nice. They were a unit already, and it had seemed to come so naturally. Did he feel it, too?
That’s when she realized there was another man in the vestibule. Funny, she hadn’t even noticed him, though she supposed women must fawn all over him, with those cheekbones and that expensive haircut. She held out her hand to the friend Jonas had talked endlessly about. “Nice to meet you. Jonas speaks very highly of you.”
“Likewise,” Warren said with a cryptic glance at Jonas. “And I’m sure whatever he’s told you is embellished.”
Doubtful when she didn’t need Jonas’s help to know that the energy drink company his friend ran did very well. You couldn’t escape the logo for Flying Squirrel no matter where you looked.
Jonas waved that off with a smirk. “Whatever, man. Where’s Hendrix?”
“Not my turn to babysit him.” Warren shrugged, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text him. He’ll be here.”
Somehow, Jonas seemed to have forgotten his arm was still around Viv’s waist and she wasn’t about to remind him. But then he guided her toward the open double doors that led to the interior of the chapel with firm fingers. Well, if this almost-intimacy was part of the wedding package, she’d take it.
“I’m not waiting on his sorry ass,” Jonas called over his shoulder. “There are a thousand more couples in line behind us and I’m not losing my spot.”
Warren nodded and waved, still buried in his phone.
“Some friends,” Jonas murmured to her with a laugh, his head bent close. He was still taller than her even when she wore heels, but it had never been as apparent as it was today, since she was still tucked against his side as if he never meant to let go. “This is an important day in my life and you see how they are.”
“I’m here.” For as long as he needed her.
Especially if he planned to put his arm around her a whole bunch more. His warm palm on her waist had oddly settled her nerves. And put a whole different kind of butterfly south of her stomach.
Wow, was it hot in here or what? She resisted the urge to fan herself as the spark zipped around in places that could not be so affected by this man’s touch.
His smile widened. “Yes, you are. Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate that? The slot for very best friend in the whole world has just become yours, since clearly you’re the only one who deserves it.”
As reminders went, it was both brutal and necessary. This was a favor. Not an excuse for a man to get handsy with her.
Fine. Good. She and Jonas were friends, which was perfect. She had a habit of pouring entirely too much of herself into a man who didn’t return her level of commitment. Mark had stuck it out slightly longer than Zachary, and she didn’t like to think about how quickly she’d shed Gary and Judd. A sad commentary on her twenties that she’d had fewer boyfriends than fingers on one hand.
A favor marriage was the best kind because she knew exactly how it would end. It was like reading the last page of the book ahead of time, and for someone who loved surprise flowers but hated surprise discussions that started with “we have to talk,” the whole thing sounded really great.
No pressure. No reason to get clingy and drive Jonas away with her neediness. She could be independent and witty and build her confidence with this marriage. It was a practice run with all the best benefits. He’d already asked her to move into his penthouse on Boylan Avenue. As long as she didn’t mess up and let on how much she wanted to cling to every last inch of the man, it was all good.
Back on track, she smiled at the friend she was about to marry. They were friends with benefits that had nothing to do with sex. A point she definitely needed to keep in the forefront of her brain.
A lady in a puke-green suit approached th
em and verified they were the happy couple, then ran down the order of the ceremony. If this had been a real marriage, Viv might be a little disappointed in the lack of fanfare. In less than a minute, traditional organ music piped through the overhead speakers and the lady shoved a drooping bouquet at Viv. She clutched it to her chest, wondering if she’d get to keep it. One flower was enough. She’d press it into a book as a reminder of her wedding to a great man who treated her with nothing but kindness and respect.
Jonas walked her down the aisle, completely unruffled. Of course. Why would he be nervous? This was all his show and he’d always had a supreme amount of confidence no matter the situation.
His friend Warren stood next to an elderly man holding a Bible. Jonas halted where they’d been told to stand and glanced at her with a reassuring smile.
“Dearly beloved,” the man began and was immediately interrupted by a commotion at the back. Viv and Jonas both turned to see green-suit lady grappling with the door as someone tried to get into the room.
“Sir, the ceremony has already started,” she called out to no avail as the man who must be Hendrix Harris easily shoved his way inside and joined them at the front.
Yep. He looked just like the many, many pictures she’d seen of him strewn across the media, and not just because his mother was running for governor. Usually he had a gorgeous woman glued to his side and they were doing something overly sensual, like kissing as if no one was watching.
“Sorry,” he muttered to Jonas. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he’d slept in his expensively tailored shirt and pants.
“Figured you’d find a way to make my wedding memorable,” Jonas said without malice, because that’s the kind of man he was. She’d have a hard time being so generous with someone who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.
The officiant started over, and in a few minutes, she and Jonas exchanged vows. All fake, she chanted to herself as she promised to love and cherish.
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant said with so little inflection that it took a minute for it to sink in that he meant Jonas could kiss her. Her pulse hit the roof.
Somehow, they hadn’t established what would happen here. She glanced at Jonas and raised a brow. Jonas hesitated.
“This is the part where you kiss her, idiot,” Hendrix muttered with a salacious grin.
This was her one chance, the only time she had every right to put her lips on this man, and she wasn’t missing the opportunity. The other people in the room vanished as she flattened her palms on Jonas’s lapels. He leaned in and put one hand on her jaw, guiding it upward. His warmth bled through her skin, enlivening it, and then her brain ceased to function as his mouth touched hers.
Instantly, that wasn’t enough and she pressed forward, seeking more of him. The kiss deepened as his lips aligned properly and oh, yes, that was it.
Her crush exploded into a million little pieces as she tasted what it was like to kiss Jonas. That nice, safe attraction she had been so sure she could hide gained teeth, slicing through her midsection with sharp heat. The dimensions of sensation opened around her, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of how truly spectacular it would feel if he didn’t stop.
But he did stop, stepping back so quickly that she almost toppled over. He caught her forearms and held her steady...though he looked none too steady himself, his gaze enigmatic and heated in a way she’d never witnessed before.
Clearly that experience had knocked them both for a loop. What did you say to someone you’d just kissed and who you wanted to kiss again, but really, that hadn’t been part of the deal?
“That was nice,” Jonas murmured. “Thanks.”
Nice was not the word on her mind. So they were going to pretend that hadn’t just happened, apparently.
Good. That was exactly what they should do. Treat it like a part of the ceremony and move on.
Except her lips still tingled, and how in the world was Jonas just standing there holding her hand like nothing momentous had occurred? She needed to learn the answer to that, stat. Especially if they were going to be under the same roof. Otherwise, their friendship—and this marriage—would be toast the second he clued in to how hot and bothered he got her. He’d specifically told her that he could trust her because they were friends and he needed her to be one.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant intoned, completely oblivious to how the earth had just swelled beneath Viv’s feet.
Jonas turned and led her back up the aisle, where they signed the marriage license. They ended up in the same vestibule they’d been in minutes before, but now they were married.
Her signature underneath Jonas’s neat script made it official, but as she’d expected, it was just a piece of paper. The kiss, on the other hand? That had shaken her to the core.
How was she going to stop herself from angling for another one?
“Well,” Hendrix said brightly. “I’d say this calls for a drink. I’ll buy.”
Two
Jonas had never thought of his six-thousand-square-foot penthouse condo as small. Until today. It was full of Viviana Dawson. Er, Kim. Viviana Kim. She’d officially changed her name at the Department of Motor Vehicles, and soon, she’d have a new driver’s license that said she had the legal right to call herself that. By design. His sense of honor wouldn’t permit him to outright lie about his relationship with Viv; therefore, she was Mrs. Kim in every sense of the word.
Except one.
The concept was surreal. As surreal as the idea that she was his wife and he could introduce her as such to anyone who asked.
Except for himself apparently because he was having a hard time thinking of her that way no matter how many times he repeated the word wife when he glimpsed her through the archway leading to the kitchen. Boxes upon boxes covered every inch of the granite countertops, and though she’d been working on unpacking them for an hour, it looked like she’d barely made a dent.
He should quit skulking around and get in there to help. But he hadn’t because he couldn’t figure out how to manage the weird vibe that had sprung up between them.
That kiss.
It had opened up a Pandora’s box that he didn’t know how to close. Before, he’d had a sort of objective understanding that Viv was a beautiful woman whose company he enjoyed.
Ever since the ceremony, no more. There was a thin veil of awareness that he couldn’t shake. But he needed to. They were living together as friends because she’d agreed to a favor that didn’t include backing her up against the counter so he could explore her lush mouth.
He liked Viv. Add a previously undiscovered attraction and she was exactly the kind of woman he’d studiously avoided for nearly a decade. The kind he could easily envision taking him deeper and deeper until he was emotionally overwhelmed enough to give up everything.
The problem of course being that he couldn’t stop calling her, like he usually did with women who threatened his vow. He’d married this one.
He was being ridiculous. What was he, seventeen? He could handle a little spark between friends, right? Best way to manage that was to ignore it. And definitely not let on that he’d felt something other than friendly ever since kissing her.
All he and Viv had to do was live together until he could convince his grandfather to go through with the merger anyway. Once the two companies signed agreements, neither would back out and Jonas was home free. Since he was covering Viv’s rent until then, she could move back into her apartment at that point.
This plan would work, and soon enough, he could look back on it smugly and pinpoint the exact moment when he’d outsmarted his grandfather.
Casually, he leaned on the exposed-brick column between the dining room and the kitchen and crossed his arms like everything was cool between them. It would be cool. “What can I do?”
Viv jerked and spun around to face him, eyes wide. “You scared me. Obviously.”
Her nervous laugh ruffled his spine. So they were both feeling the weirdness, but it was clearly different weirdness on her side than on his. She was jumpy and nervous, not hot and bothered. He had not seen that coming. That was...not good. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. We’ve both been living alone for so long that I guess we have to get through an adjustment period.”
Which was the opposite of what he’d expected. They’d always been so relaxed with each other. How could they get back to that?
She nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
Was it that bad? Her forlorn voice tripped something inside him and it was not okay that she was uncomfortable around him now. “Best way to adjust is to spend time together. Let me help you put away these...” He grabbed a square glass dish from the counter. “Pans?”
“Pyrex.” She smiled and it seemed like it came easier. “I can’t imagine you care anything about where I put my bakeware.”
He waggled his brows. “That depends on whether that’s something you use to make cupcakes or not.”
Her cupcakes weren’t like the store-bought ones in the hard plastic clamshells. Those tasted like sugared flour with oily frosting. Viv’s lemon cupcakes—a flavor he’d never have said he’d like—had a clean, bright taste like she’d captured lemonade in cake form.
“It’s not. Casseroles.”
“Not a fan of those.” He made a face before he thought better of it.
Maybe she loved casseroles and he was insulting her taste. And her cooking skills. But he’d never said one word about her whipping up dinner for him each night, nor did he expect her to. She knew that. Right?
They had so much to learn about each other, especially if they were going to make this marriage seem as real as possible to everyone, except select few people they could trust, like Warren and Hendrix. If word got back to his grandfather that something wasn’t kosher, the charade would be over.
