Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books
Playing Pretend
by
Juliana Haygert
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Juliana Haygert.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
First Edition March 2014
www.JulianaHaygert.com
Edited by H. Danielle Crabtree
Cover design by Rebecca Berto/Berto Designs
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following brands mentioned in this work of fiction: Lincoln, Washington Post, Red Bull, Starbucks, Catch My Breath by Kelly Clarkson, George Washington University, University of North Carolina, Mercedes, Porsche Cayenne, Rolex, Beatles, Wikipedia, Rolls-Royce, Play Station 4, Facebook, Google, Coke, Bud Light, Toxic by Britney Spears, Toddlers & Tiara, The Matrix, The Pelican Brief, Law and Order, Smallville, Supernatural, Mega Engineering, Junkyard Wars, MythBusters, Harry Potter, Wimbledon, Avatar, Once Upon a Time, Gilmore Girls, 5am by Katy B.
To my dear husband for
our 10th wedding anniversary.
Love you!
Chapter One
Charlotte
Excitement trickled through me as I parked the rental car behind the building and walked around to the front entrance.
The hot Californian night brushed my tanned skin. Excitement trickled through me. The little town buzzed with students, like me, enjoying the second to last day of spring break. A group walked past, toward the bar next door. Their voices loud and joyful, their laughter contagious.
A smile appeared on my lips. I had never experienced anything like this. I had never felt so free, so happy, so excited, and I almost hadn’t come on this trip.
My phone rang.
“Hey, girl,” I answered.
“Charlotte? Crap, I wanted to call MaryAnn,” Liana said, her words slurring.
I shook my head. For Liana to get something like calling someone wrong, she was probably pretty drunk. “I thought she was at the bonfire with you.”
“She was, but now it’s only Becca and me.”
“She’s probably out with some random guy,” I said. “Isn’t that what she does every night?”
Liana giggled. “It is, but she could have let us know so we wouldn’t worry about her.”
“All right, then call her.”
“I will. Oh, hey, have fun,” she said in a singsong tone.
“Thanks,” I said, before turning off my phone.
I slipped it inside my back pocket as I entered the bar.
Low, melodious music drifted from the ceiling. The scent of alcohol was heady in the air, and the dark and cozy atmosphere hummed with energy. On a small stage, girls, wearing not much more than bikinis, danced around poles. Drunken guys cheered and applauded each time one approached them.
With a confident gait I hadn’t had in me until six nights ago, I crossed the room, weaving through the low tables and the animated people around them, to the crowded bar. I waited for more than five minutes, until a couple moved from their stools to the exit. Hmm, fun night ahead of them.
Still smiling, I perched atop the stool, my gaze locked on the approaching bartender, who was wearing tight black slacks and a tie. Nothing more.
“What can I get for you, ma’am?” The husky tone of his voice wrapped around me as his hazel eyes consumed my soul.
Licking my lips, my gaze ran the length of his body, lingering over his taut chest and abdomen.
Jesus, so hot. “Just a martini.” I stared into his eyes as they brightened. The corner of his lip curled slightly and butterflies danced in my stomach. “For now.”
With raised eyebrows, he bowed and left to prepare my drink.
Meanwhile, I never stopped staring at him, at his hot body, at his beautiful face.
The bartender came back, placed my martini on the counter in front of me, and after stealing a quick but intense glance, walked away to serve other customers.
I exhaled a long breath and sipped from my drink, attentive to the bartender’s whereabouts, while I counted the seconds. The big neon clock on the wall read 1:57 a.m. Just three more minutes.
The bartender approached. “Can I get you anything else?”
The intensity of his stare left me breathless, but I played along. Raising a single eyebrow, I smiled. “I don’t think so.”
I peeked at the clock. One more minute.
Under the bartender’s gaze, I downed my drink, slapped a fifty on the counter, and marched out of the bar.
Giddiness propelled the butterflies in my stomach as I jogged to my car, not caring I wore a mini-denim skirt, or that I could twist my foot running in wedges.
The minute should be over by now and I had to be ready.
Barely able to hold still, I leaned against my car, arms crossed, and waited.
One minute passed.
I paced around.
Ten minutes.
I bit my nails.
Twenty minutes.
I fished my cell phone from my pocket, rested my back against the car again, and searched for the number I wanted.
“Who are you calling?”
The phone almost fell from my hands when his voice reached me. A thrilling shiver jolted down my spine.
The bartender walked from the back door toward me. He now wore a shirt, but that didn’t lessen the impact of his beauty. His soft black hair framed his hard jaw. His bangs fell over his piercing hazel eyes. His broad shoulders and chest seemed out of room inside his clothes.
I stashed my phone and offered him a wicked grin. “You.”
Without giving me time to react, the bartender walked up, bumped his body on mine, held my wrists against the car, leaned down, and found my mouth with his. I opened to him instantly. A moan came from my throat when his hard frame pressed against me, squeezing the air out of my lungs. His lips trailed down my chin, leaving a trace of fire behind. Fire that built in my chest and spread down my body.
He nibbled my ear and whispered, “Ready to go?”
“You’re late,” I chided, my hands on his chest, pushing him away and failing. I laughed as he added force and pressed tighter against me. “Mason, come on.”
His chest rumbled and he laughed in my ear. “Sorry, I can’t resist.”
“What?” I put my hands on my hips, pretending to be mad. “Just because you’re three times my size?”
“Not only that.” His tongue slid down my neck, and he bit my shoulder. “You’re too delicate. And so, so hot.”
Of
course, I was delicate compared to him. The guy was over six feet, while I was five-four and so thin, I could be carried by the wind. However, when in the circle of his arms, a tornado could try to knock me out, and wouldn’t succeed.
Soon I wouldn’t be in his arms anymore.
“You were late,” I repeated in a low tone.
Mason pulled back and stared into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze making me dizzy. “I know. Sorry. It was payday.” He picked the check from his pocket and showed it to me.
I averted my gaze, not caring about his salary.
He lifted a strand of my long dark hair and twisted it around his finger. “I have a surprise though. I got tomorrow night off.”
“Why is that?” I bit my lower lip.
“And here I thought you would squeal like a girlie girl and throw yourself at me.” He ran his fingertips down my neck, making me shiver. “Or do you not want to spend the next thirty hours with me?”
I clasped my hand on his nape and pulled him to me, my mouth closing over his. I kissed him slowly, but deeply, my tongue grazing against his. I pulled back and licked his lower lip. “Does that answer your question?”
He nodded, his eyes clouded with what seemed like hunger. For me. “Let’s go?”
Thirty minutes ago. “Yes.”
***
Charlotte
In the tangle of sheets and legs and arms, I observed Mason as he slept, his chest slowly rising and lowering under my hand. With my finger, I traced the hills and vales and plains of his perfect physique, trying to commit it to memory so I could draw him like this later. His skin was soft and warm, just like him. My fingertip lingered on his stomach, admiring his six-pack and that V that all girls—including me—went crazy over. It would be hard to replicate such beauty on paper.
This was my first spring break as a college student. Actually, this was my first spring break away from my mother. I never thought something like this would happen. I had never acted like this before. The girls had convinced me to come on this trip, kiss a guy here and there, and have fun. However, after meeting Mason, things had happened fast.
Each time our first encounter flashed in my mind, I smiled. It had been our first night in town. The girls and I wanted to get some drinks before the bonfire at the beach, and we ended up at the bar with the hottest bartender alive. They flirted with him, but I didn’t. I wanted to, but, oh, if my mother only knew the things I dreamed about doing. Well, she would kill me if she knew where I was. She had barely approved this trip. In truth, she thought I was in Canada with Tracy, the girl she thought was my best friend.
Besides all his mischievous grins, the bartender didn’t lead the girls on, though often his eyes found mine.
I left with my friends for the bonfire, but they found hookups too quickly and I couldn’t get the bartender out of my mind. Liana had noticed how hung up I had been on him and encouraged me to go after him.
“You only live once,” she said. “Besides, nobody knows you here. You can do whatever you want. You can be whoever you want.”
Her words stirred something in me. Be whoever I wanted. I liked being me, I guess, but I could use more free time. More me time.
My mother would kill me if she found out any of this, but she was thousands of miles away, on the East Coast. No one would see me if I was careful.
With courage I didn’t know I had, I went back to the bar. When he saw me, his eyes went wide and a small smile spread over his lips. The butterflies in my belly took off.
The rest was history.
Since then, six nights ago, I had slept with Mason every night in my hotel room. Actually, we spent almost every single hour together, except for when he had to work at the bar, or when he stopped by his house, which I didn’t know where it was exactly, to change clothes.
Unfortunately, spring break was ending and I would go home tomorrow morning.
I pulled back as a pang assaulted my heart.
When my hand left his chest, Mason turned sideways, his arm reaching for me. “Come back,” he whispered, his eyes still closed.
A smile crept on my lips and I held his hand. His fingers closed around mine and he pulled me to him, under him. He rested his face in the crook of my neck, his arms tight, yet careful not to squash me under his weight.
As I ran my nails on the tribal tattoo that extended over his left shoulder blade, I peeked at the clock on the nightstand.
“It’s almost noon. I’m hungry.”
His head shook against my neck. “Not yet. Let’s stay like this all day.”
I turned my face to his and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. “I don’t know about you, but I also gotta pee.”
His tongue grazed my skin, spreading warm jolts down my neck. “Does that take your mind off it?”
I laughed. “You’re impossible.”
With a huge grin, he pulled back to look at me. “Thank you.” Then his forehead molded into a deep frown. “We’re still playing the don’t-tell-anything-about-ourselves game?”
A tight knot formed in my chest. “Sure we are.” If it were up to me, we would part ways and still not know anything relevant about each other.
“And you won’t even tell me why?”
I pulled my gaze away from him. “No.”
“Not even your last name.”
“Especially not my last name.”
“Who are you?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but I still didn’t like the question. “Daughter of a famous actor? Or of a famous baseball player?” His eyes lit. “I know. You’re famous.”
I laughed. “Stop. You won’t find out anything.”
“But I did.” Mason rested his head on my neck again. “I know your favorite color is purple. I know you love sushi. You like to dance. You hate beer but could drink tons of martinis. You love the beach. Since you’re always doodling, I’m guessing you love to draw. I also know your friends admire you, probably because you’re way more beautiful and hot than them. And, judging by your clothes, the car you rented, and your fancy hotel room, you have tons of money.” I stiffened. “What?” He raised his head and spied into my eyes. “What did I say?”
I slipped from under his embrace and sat at the edge of the bed. “I don’t like subjects that involve money.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, stood, and searched the floor for my clothes. “People tend to make a big deal about money.”
“Money is a big deal. You shouldn’t be ashamed of having it.”
“I’m not.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
I turned to him, my skirt in my hand. “I don’t like what comes with money.”
“You don’t like comfort?”
I shook my head. He didn’t get it and I wouldn’t waste our little time together explaining. “That’s why I don’t like talking about it. Look at us. Our last day together and we are arguing for the first time in six full days.”
With a sympathetic smile, Mason stood before me. “I didn’t mean to cause a quarrel. I’m just amused. You’re the first rich person I’ve met who doesn’t like to talk or brag about money.”
“Yeah.” I yanked my skirt on with too much force. “Ninety percent of my friends are my friends because of my money.”
He stepped closer, his eyes softening. “Well, in my defense, I was interested in you before finding out you’re rich.”
“We also aren’t friends.” I air quoted the word friends and my lips curled in a small smile.
His hands inched toward my waist. “Can we start over?”
Heaviness settled in my chest. “We don’t have time to start over.”
“Then let me make this day count.” His fingers brushed the skin under the hem of my skirt.
My resolve undoing, I nodded. “I like that idea.”
His lips met mine, leaving me breathless, and he pulled my skirt back down.
Chapter Two
Mason
I held Charlotte’s hand as we walked in the warm, w
hite sand, looking for a spot to settle down. It was mid-afternoon, when most spring breakers had just woken up after a night of partying.
I glanced at her and smiled. Her gold bikini left almost nothing to the imagination, and the tiny skirt could have doubled as a washcloth. Too much skin and temptation exposed. I wanted to cover her body with a towel so no other guy could see how hot she was.
She smiled back, squeezing my hand. A warm breeze kicked in and brushed her long dark hair aside. Christ, she was beautiful. Too beautiful. Large green eyes, a small nose, full reddish lips, fair, smooth skin, and the perfect, tanned body. I had never hooked up with a girl so beautiful, so perfect.
I’d let her seduce me that first night because I was mad and distraught, but she easily enraptured me. For six days, I’d barely thought about the events of the previous weeks. I had healed a little with her.
However, she was leaving the next day, and I didn’t even know her last name.
We found a spot among the crowd large enough to spread a towel and open two beach chairs. I let go of Charlotte’s hand and dropped the cooler on the sand.
Charlotte slid out of her skirt and I noticed several guys—and girls—admiring her and her movements, while she was seemingly oblivious to it. Jealousy clawed at my chest.
Come on, man. This was just a hookup.
However, the past six days felt more and more like six months. If she lived in town and we saw each other often, I would have had to cut things at once before I actually fell for her. Which seemed easy to do.
Charlotte lay on the towel, and I glared at the men still staring at her before sitting down beside her.
“Is the town always like this?”
I frowned. “Like what?”
“Packed.” She gestured toward the beach. She tapped her foot to the rhythm blasting out of a nearby radio.
It was insanely full, but most people were college students like us.
Someone on my side tossed a beer to a friend, which made me thirsty. I reached for one of my own inside the cooler. “Nope. It’s usually too quiet here. The busiest times are spring break and summer.”
Playing Pretend Page 1
