The Decoy Bride

by Lizzie Shane

  She went up on her toes, gripping his shoulders for balance and his hands moved from cradling her head to steadying her, strong and solid on the back of her ribcage—but they didn’t roam. He didn’t touch her anywhere else and she had to fight the urge to squirm in his hold. They were selling romance. Not sex, damn it.

  A wave hit her ankles, flowing over her feet, the water shockingly cold, and Bree gasped in surprise, breaking the kiss to look down at their feet where the water foamed over them. When she looked up, Cross was smiling down at her, his expression warm and gentle—as if he was perfectly satisfied by the tepid, romantic kiss. As if his thoughts hadn’t been pinging around like a ball in a pin-ball machine the entire time they were locking lips. Or maybe that was just her. Maybe she was the only one who couldn’t do intimate and romantic without feeling like there were a thousand ants crawling beneath her skin.

  “The water’s colder than I thought it would be,” she said, in the lamest possible conversational gambit.

  Cross moved without missing a beat, bending and scooping her up. She yelped in surprise, clutching at his shoulders, but she needn’t have worried he might drop her. His hold was steady, one strong arm supporting her back, the other curled beneath her knees. Cold water dripped from her feet to the sand below, but suddenly she wasn’t so worried about the chill. Even with the cool breeze off the water, it was warm in Cross’s arms.

  His face was closer to hers in this position and she could see his eyes, even in the low light, the darkness of them. “You have the prettiest eyes,” she murmured, the words out before she realized she was going to say them.

  “Not half as gorgeous as yours,” he replied in a husky tone that did things to her insides, lowering his head to take her lips again.

  It should have been the world’s most romantic moment—but once again her brain refused to shut up, whispering that they weren’t her eyes. They were Maggie’s eyes. And he wasn’t cradling her in his arms because he wanted to. He was doing it because he needed to sell the romance with Maggie.

  Bree lifted one hand to his cheek, feeling his stubble against her palm, and leaned into the kiss, trying to lose herself in it, trying to quiet the whispers in her head, but Cross broke the kiss at the first brush of tongue, giving her a wry smile. “Maybe we should take this inside…”

  She knew that was the plan, but she still gave him a look of playful disappointment. “What? You don’t want to try the From Here to Eternity thing in the waves?”

  “As much fun as sand in unmentionable places sounds…No. I’d rather have your undivided attention without having to worry about the tide coming in and drowning us both.”

  She smiled. “Fair enough.”

  She shifted in his arms, expecting him to set her back on her feet, but Cross apparently wasn’t done with his knight-in-shining-armor routine. He turned and started back up the beach toward the villa with her still cradled in his arms.

  “I can walk, you know,” she reminded him wryly.

  “I know,” he agreed. “But I’ll take any excuse to have you in my arms. Humor me.”

  She knew the words were for show and not for her, but Bree shivered at the impact of them nonetheless. The man knew how to turn on the romance when he wanted to. “How did your ex-wife let you slip away?”

  The words popped out without conscious direction—she really needed to stop doing that—and she realized what a mistake they were when Cross’s shoulders tensed beneath her hands. They were at the edge of the patio now and he lowered her to her feet on the pavers.

  He might have set her down anyway, but it sure felt like he was setting her away from him after what she’d said. Bree cringed, reaching for him, trying to apologize with her touch. “Cross…I didn’t think—”

  She never thought, it seemed.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her, gently sliding his hands into her hair again. “We’re okay.”

  He lowered his head to hers for another too-gentle kiss. So respectful. So freaking chaste.

  And the doubts whispering in her head only got louder. She went on her toes, trying to pull him closer, trying to turn up the heat, but he smiled against her mouth and lifted his head, his hands stroking through her hair. Soothing. When the last thing she wanted was to be soothed.

  “Do you want me?” she blurted and his eyebrows flew up, his eyes glittering with amusement.

  “That’s a question?” He stole a quick kiss off her lips—so fast she didn’t even have time to hunger for more—and then he turned her toward the door, tucking her under his arm. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

  She looped her arm around his firm waist, walking at his side and trying to look adoring and lovey-dovey—and not like her favorite toy was being taken away from her. Because as soon as they got inside, out of the view of the windows, they would separate. No more kissing, no more cuddling, no more pretty words unless Kaydee was within earshot.

  And that was for the best. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that—though it was getting harder and harder to think of why. Why not let herself fall for Cross? Why not enjoy this moment with him for as long as it lasted? What was the harm really?

  But then they were inside, the drapes were drawn behind them, and Cross released her, giving her a smile that was friendly, but lacked the extra heat, the intent of his earlier smiles, reminding her that this was a show and she needed to stick to her part.

  They moved together up the stairs and he paused for a moment outside her door.

  “Good night,” he mouthed, not even whispering since they’d become so paranoid about bugs—and she didn’t have the guts to stop him from walking away. To tell him that it didn’t have to be good night. To invite him into her room and see where things went.

  He was already down the hall, slipping silently into his own room and Bree swore softly to herself before opening the door and retreating into the master suite.

  She’d left her cell phone in here, set to silent mode, and it flashed from the bedside table, beckoning her back to reality. Seeing a missed call from Andi, she retreated into the master bath and turned on the shower, letting the water disguise the sound as she sank down on the plush vanity stool and dialed Andi’s number.

  “Bree?”

  “Hey. I just saw I missed a call from you.”

  Andi practically spoke over her. “Yes or no. Does your top secret Maggie assignment involve making out with Hot Cross on a tropical island? Because I just saw some photos…”

  “You can’t tell anyone!” She clenched the edge of the vanity. “We’re running interference for Maggie and Demarco. No one can know I’m here.”

  “I knew it!” Andi crowed triumphantly. “Ty told me I was going down a crazy conspiracy theory rabbit hole—”

  “Andi, he can’t tell anyone!” Heartthrob Ty Walker’s Twitter account was legend. One stray tweet and it would all be over.

  “He won’t breathe a word,” Andi assured her—and Bree melted with relief. “You think we’ve never wanted to get away from the limelight? Why do you think we’re getting married in Clement?”

  “Because you love it and that’s where you fell in love?”

  “Well, yeah,” Andi admitted. “But also because we want to get hitched without the media circus. Trust me. We get it. We won’t do anything to spoil it for you or for Maggie. But why didn’t you tell me Hot Cross was a famous football player?”

  Something hard settled in the pit of her stomach. “Is he famous?”

  “Apparently he went to UCLA around the same time Ty did—they didn’t know each other or anything, but Ty knew who he was. Total hotshot. I mean, he’s no Demarco Whitten, but he’s not far off.”

  Deep down, she’d suspected as much. She may not know much about football, but the way Cross talked, part of her had known that he was out of her league. “I never heard him talk about playing football before this week. He was always just the bodyguard.”

  Andi snorted. “Just the bodyguard. You should hear the way they talk
about him. Like he’s one step down from Jesus. And if he hadn’t torn his ACL he would have totally gotten that walking-on-water thing down too. No one is even remotely surprised that a guy like Aaron Cross Junior would be dating Maggie Tate.” The short pause was loaded with questions, but Andi only asked, “So what’s going on with you two?”

  Bree felt herself blushing, grateful Andi couldn’t see her. “Nothing. It’s just for the cameras.”

  “Really?” Andi’s tone was somehow both disappointed and relieved. “Because when I saw that kiss…”

  “It was just a stupid impulse thing,” Bree said, knowing Andi knew her well enough to accept the I-wasn’t-thinking excuse. “I was going stir crazy and we were trying to get media attention here so it stayed off Maggie and Demarco…” Though not like that. She’d almost ruined everything. “But it’s not…we’re not actually together.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s probably for the best,” Andi said.

  Bree wilted. Was it?

  “I was all for him when he was Hot Cross the Sexy Bodyguard,” Andi chattered, “but Aaron Cross Junior former NFL hero…I don’t know. You hear all those stories about football guys taking one too many hits to the head and snapping and taking it out on their girlfriends.”

  “Cross isn’t like that. He couldn’t be less like that.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t seem that way, but how well do you really know him?”

  After this afternoon? Pretty damn well.

  But Bree kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to talk about Cross or the feelings she should or should not be having for him.

  Though a few minutes later, when she ended the call with Andi, she couldn’t help typing his name into Google on her phone. The most recent stories were all about him and Maggie—the pictures seemingly everywhere.

  And of all the comments—good, bad and very ugly—about the idea of Maggie and Cross together, not one of them said he wasn’t famous enough for her. No one thought Cross was out of his league with Maggie Tate…which just went to show how far out of her league Bree was with him.

  Good thing she didn’t have feelings for the man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Remember, act naturally.”

  Bree resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Mel’s oh-so-helpful advice. She felt like a secret agent with her phone’s earbud in one ear and Maggie’s manager spying from the next room. Kaydee would be down any minute to take Cecil for his morning walk and Mel had set the scene so instead the perky assistant would find “Maggie” crying into her mimosa over all the untrue rumors about her and Demarco.

  Mel had prepped Bree on what she was supposed to say, but hadn’t trusted her to improvise if Kaydee questioned her, so Bree now had to pretend to be listening to music on her phone when Mel was really feeding her lines through her earbud.

  They’d officially graduated to espionage, but she still had to sell it, so instead of focusing on how ridiculous she felt, she concentrated instead on what Maggie must feel when she saw how people were bashing her in the media. She managed to dredge up a few tears and blinked to encourage them as she heard footsteps on the stairs.

  Moments later, Kaydee strolled into the living room and found her curled up on the couch, sniffling and blinking back tears as she cuddled Cecil.

  “Maggie?” Kaydee asked. “Are you all right?”

  Bree jerked as if startled and pretended to hit pause on her phone. “I’m sorry. I was just listening to our song. Have you heard the things people are saying? As if I’m a horrible person for cheating on Demarco when he’s the one who broke up with me before I even thought about kissing Cross.”

  Kaydee’s dark eyes were unnervingly shrewd as she frowned. “You have to understand why they would think that. You were still wearing the engagement ring in the pictures.”

  “Because I was hoping he would come to his senses!” Bree exclaimed. “I kept hoping that if I just kept planning the wedding as if nothing was wrong, then nothing would be wrong, but he broke my heart and now everyone is acting like he’s the wounded party.”

  “Well, you do have a history.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mel said in her ear a fraction of a second before Bree snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh come on, Maggie. You know you aren’t entirely innocent here.”

  Lost, Bree waited for some hint from Mel what the hell Kaydee was getting at, but the manager was silent. “Demarco was the one who wanted to call off the wedding,” she insisted, reverting to the script Mel had given her—but then the manager herself stalked into the room.

  “Kaydee. You’re fired.”

  “What?” The girl laughed. “No, I’m not.”

  “I assure you, you are. Cross will supervise you as you pack your things and then escort you to the other side of the island where you can make your own arrangements to get back to LA.”

  “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Kaydee asked Bree, her manner worryingly confident.

  Before Bree could speak, Mel cut in, her voice harsh. “I have confirmation that you are the one who leaked that photo of Maggie and Cross,” she said, as if they hadn’t had that confirmation for days.

  “You can’t just fire me,” Kaydee sputtered.

  “I definitely can,” Mel assured her. “I can also sue you for violating your NDA, so if I were you I’d contact a lawyer as soon as you get back.”

  “And how am I supposed to get back? It’s like insanely expensive to fly here.”

  “I suggest you take it up with your friends at the Fame Game, since they are the reason you are no longer employed.”

  Kaydee turned to Bree, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger. “Are you sure you want to let her do this?”

  The threat behind the words was vague—and all the more unsettling for it. But again, before she could speak, Mel stepped between them.

  “Cross is waiting in your room to help you pack.”

  “Fine,” Kaydee snapped. “You can clean up your own dog shit.”

  She stalked out of the room and Bree held her breath until she was gone, her muscles still tense. “Were you planning to fire her all along?” she asked Mel.

  The taller woman sank down onto the sofa opposite her, her expression more troubled than Bree had ever seen it. “Not necessarily. But I was ready for the possibility. I should have fired her weeks ago. As soon as I started to suspect she had some knowledge she was dangling over Maggie. A little tattling to the tabloids is one thing, but blackmail is something else entirely.”

  “Aren’t you worried she’ll tell whatever she knows?”

  “She’ll be too busy defending herself. We already have the papers drawn up to sue her for violating the NDA as soon as she steps foot back in LA. If she has half a brain—or decent legal counsel—she’ll know to keep her mouth shut.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Then we come after her for blackmail, and everything else I can throw at her. No one threatens Maggie.”

  That was a nice thought, but Maggie hadn’t wanted Kaydee fired—and Bree wasn’t sure how she’d react to Mel’s initiative.

  “So now what?” she asked.

  “Now we keep playing the game. Do you have your bikini?”

  *

  When Cross stepped onto the pool deck and saw Bree already stretched out in a bikini, her bare skin glistening in the sun as she waited for him to begin another day of Mission: Romance, he had to wonder if Mel was deliberately trying to give him the worst case of blue balls in the history of mankind or if that was just a natural side effect of spending so much time with Bree and not being able to touch her for real. He’d taken matters into his own hands in the shower more than once over the last couple days, but his body still reacted to the sight of her, waking up and sending blood rushing south.

  “Good morning,” he said, bending to brush a light kiss across her lips—because that’s what he would do if they were a couple. And because he wanted to.
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br />   He’d gotten addicted to the taste of her over the last few days, and it was getting harder and harder to draw that line between what he was doing for the cameras and what he was doing because he wanted to.

  He’d escorted Kaydee off the premises—which didn’t mean there weren’t still cameras aimed their way, but it felt more private now, and his palms itched to touch her as he stretched out on the lounger beside her—face down so she wouldn’t see the way his body was getting ready for business at the sight of her.

  He’d done his morning sweep of the property, finding no listening devices, and checked in with the resort’s security, getting their logs of people they’d stopped from approaching the villa—which brought him to the second portion of his working day: laying around doing nothing and pretending to be in love.

  If the last week had taught him anything, it was that neither he nor Bree were particularly suited for a life of idle luxury. They both chafed under the restraints of inactivity—as she’d proven with that first kiss. The memory of it, the taste of her wildness through her lips, made even more blood rush south in his body and Cross cursed under his breath.

  The pool wasn’t heated. Maybe it was cold enough this morning to douse his lust.

  He stood, keeping his back to Bree so she wouldn’t see his affliction, and dove into the water. Fuck, that’s cold. It closed around him, an icy shock to the system and he shuddered at the impact—but at least he had something to think about other than Bree.

  He surfaced, sucking in air through his teeth and swimming over to the shallow end where the sun would have had more of a chance to warm the water this morning. A man-made waterfall poured into the pool and he swam beneath it, letting the falling water drown out his thoughts.

  He didn’t know how long he sat like that, eyes closed beneath the fall of water, before a pair of hands slid over his chest—startling him so much he jerked, taking in a mouthful of water and choking as he opened his eyes to find Bree sleek and slick in front of him.