by M. L. Broome
I smirk in my friend’s direction, but the idea isn’t unwelcome. I always said I would marry Greer in a heartbeat. “Don’t you want me as your brother-in-law?” I jest, giving him a jab in the arm.
“Just don’t upstage my wedding, okay? Wait a week.” Greg downs the rest of his drink and I can’t help but wonder how many more he plans to imbibe before midnight. I love the man, but he drinks like a fish. “You really want to help her?”
“Yes. I also really want to be with her, which should show you how much I love you that I’m here and not with Greer.”
“Fair enough. Too bad you can’t set up some sort of trade with my sister.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You want to help her. She doesn’t accept charity. Find something to bargain with, something that helps you both. Even if it’s bullshit, it would likely be the only way to get her on board.” Greg snorts, waving his empty glass. “Ignore me, I’m drunk.”
Drunk or not, the man is right, and the noises around me fade as Greg’s words sink in. I need a plan. Then it hits me.
For the first time since fame came calling, I’m thrilled to have the media hounding me. It’s a perfect segue.
I know exactly how I can keep Greer by my side and help her, all at the same time.
Chapter 6
Greer
“We have an issue.” One of the bridesmaids, Marie, pokes her head out of the bathroom door, her expression grim. “Michelle can’t stop vomiting. We need a maid of honor replacement.”
I roll my eyes, trying to rein in my frustration. These women are not twenty-two. They’re in their thirties, but they behaved like college kids last night. Hey, I get it. Cut loose and have fun, but keep it together enough to stand upright at your best friend’s wedding.
“Gigi, will you take her place?” Jillian’s voice is sad and small beside me.
How am I supposed to say no to that puppy dog expression? Besides, it’s the woman’s wedding day. She doesn’t need any extra stress.
Wrapping my arm about her, I press a kiss to her cheek. “I’d be honored to be your personal fluffer for the day.”
We hold each other’s gaze in the mirror, smiles warming our faces. Greg did good. Jillian, despite her party girl tendencies, adores my brother, and I know the feeling is mutual.
For the first time in years, I find myself longing for that level of love and commitment. The strains of the Otis Redding song filters through my memory, reminding me I wasn’t always this jaded. Once upon a time, I believed in happily ever afters.
Likely, Ryder’s reappearance has something to do with my change of heart in the heart department. Okay, he has everything to do with it, but falling in love with Ryder Gray is a dumb idea.
A surefire way to get my heart broken.
Still, a woman can dream.
“It’s not fair,” Jillian whines, her hands motioning along my body. “You look better than I do.”
“Not a chance, Jillian. I just look more sober. Come on, let’s get you married.”
I adore my baby brother, but I have no idea why he insisted on getting married in Vegas. To hear him tell it, it’s the best of both worlds. Plus, since Ryder joined the festivities, it’s been luxury level all the way.
I have to hand it to Ryder. He spared no expense for his friend. So often, nouveau rich throw their money around as a way of showing off, but I don’t get that impression from Ryder. He doesn’t make a big deal of the cash he’s dropped, only stating that Greg deserves it for being a true friend.
Turns out, Ryder is a true friend, too.
I don’t dare ask what kind of trouble the men got into last night, although they all look less green about the gills than the women. Hell, I was the only sober one last night, but I’m ever so grateful for it today.
Still, I’m no fool. Ryder is a gorgeous, eligible man. At least, I think he’s eligible. Not sure what his situation is with the infamous Mandi, a woman I admittedly performed an internet search on last night.
All I can say is damn, she’s a looker and a half.
The further I keep my heart from Ryder, the better. Hell, at this point, I need to keep my body from him, too.
Both are becoming increasingly tricky to do.
I take my place next to Jillian, struggling to maintain a neutral gaze as Ryder’s baby blues drill into me. It’s impossible not to notice, he’s hardly subtle. Swinging my gaze in his direction, I widen my eyes and offer a shrug.
“Wow,” Ryder mouths, motioning up and down my body.
Fighting the blush that I know is inevitable, I look away, but I can’t keep the smile from my face. Wow, is right. Ryder is impeccable in his tuxedo, outshining any of the other men. Even Greg, a good-looking guy in his own right, doesn’t stand a chance next to Ryder’s chiseled perfection. If he looks that good in clothes, I can only imagine what he’d look like with them in a heap on the floor. I’ve seen a few photos, his muscular chest on display, a couple of artfully placed tattoos decorating his olive skin as he played in the waters of Hawaii, or Malta, or whatever tropical paradise he was visiting.
Always in these photos, there were women. So many women, each one more beautiful than the last. But despite their outer appeal, I know intrinsically that he never loved any of them. None of the photos ever captured his real smile. The smile he wears around me.
I can’t explain the connection I feel to Ryder. We don’t know each other anymore. But it’s there, as palpable as a heartbeat—this bond that can’t be broken, no matter the time and distance.
That, and I’m oddly protective of the man, despite him having a foot on me height-wise and scads more impressive people to act as bodyguards.
Stealing another glance in Ryder’s direction, we lock gazes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mouths, and even though the volume is turned down on his voice, the meaning is clear. Suddenly it’s a million degrees, as I flush from his statement.
Such simple words, with such a profound effect.
Even scarier, I believe him.
My heart doesn’t stand a chance.
My brother is a married man. A married man who is currently imbibing the hair of the dog, right next to his wife.
I know this much—I’m not nursing any of them tomorrow morning. They’re on their own.
“You know it’s the obligation of the maid of honor to dance with the best man.” Ryder stands by my chair, hand extended.
I consider declining his request, especially since I overheard him in a heated phone conversation earlier as I made my way to the bathroom. No need to inquire with whom he was conversing; the frown lines made the answer clear.
Another round with Mandi.
At that moment, I made a decision. While I’m wildly attracted to Ryder Gray, and likely always will be, he’s unavailable. He has a live-in girlfriend and despite some damning photos snapped by the media, she’s obviously still a part of his world.
That’s a path I’m not even willing to consider, no matter what my heart says. Besides, we all know my heart is a blooming idiot where the L word is concerned. Especially when you combine the L word with the infamous Ryder Gray.
His grin broadens at my hesitation, clasping my fingers with his own. “Come on, you know I can dance and that is a rarity among men.”
With a chuckle, I steal a sip of champagne for courage before walking with him to the dance floor.
Ryder pulls me flush against him, his hands wrapping around my hips in an extremely possessive and hot as hell manner. “You are a vision, Greer. Absolutely stunning. I damn near missed handing off the rings because I was so busy staring at you.”
“You look pretty damn good yourself. I’ve never seen you in a tux before. You clean up well.”
“That settles it. You haven’t seen me enough. We’re going to change that.”
“Is that a fact? Tell me more about this plan.” Yes, I’m playing coy, but what’s a bit of banter between old friends?
Ryder h
as flirting on lockdown, along with charm, wit, looks, and deep pockets. He plays his role to perfection, but I refuse to fall at his feet, no matter how tempting the trip.
“The real fun starts tomorrow, so I need you packed by noon.”
My brow wrinkles, confused by his statement. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a surprise. Just be ready to leave by noon.”
Great. Now I have to address the one subject I didn’t want to discuss—the sad state of my finances. Nothing like admitting to a multi-millionaire that you’re beyond poor.
Is there anything less sexy than being broke as hell? I think not.
“I can’t afford surprises, Ryder. But thank you for thinking of me.”
I expect to see a look of confusion cross his face, but instead, he nods, his lips set in a thin line. “Greg mentioned you have a lot of debt.”
My cheeks flame at his direct statement. “Why would he say that? My financial situation isn’t his business. It isn’t your business.”
Ryder pulls me closer, his eyes darkening with intensity. “I’m making it my business. I want to help you. Will you let me help you?”
“No.”
Now he’s biting back a laugh, that endearing grin on full display. “I figured that would be your answer, but I need something from you, too.”
My mind reels at his words. “What can I possibly offer you, that you can’t afford on your own?”
Those eyes. The bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I want you.”
I didn’t hear him correctly. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I want you, Greer.”
“I’m not for sale.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I step back from the circle of his arms, my gaze narrowing. “You want to fuck me, is that it?”
Grasping my hand, Ryder leads me to a quiet alcove, leaning his large frame against mine. “I need you to stop referring to it as fucking. I told you I had no plans on fucking you, and I still don’t.”
“Ever?” Wow, that half glass of champagne went to my head. Filter, right out the damn door.
His fingers glide along my chin, a sexy smirk playing upon his lips. “Would you still need me to fuck you if I tortured this gorgeous body every day?” His lips travel along the column of my neck, pressing against my pulse point. “If I make you come several times a day, each time harder than the last, would you still require that I fuck you?”
“I don’t understand. You want me but you don’t want me.”
“Gigi, I plan on possessing every inch of you. I can’t wait to perform the act several times daily with you, but I’m averse to the term. In regard to you, anyway.”
“What don’t you like about the term?”
“It’s not special enough for you.”
God help my heart.
Shaking my head, I force the conversation back on track. “What is this deal, Ryder? Seriously.”
He offers an embarrassed laugh, his gaze downward. “I need your help. See, my ex is being difficult.”
“I heard your conversation earlier. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but it got a bit… loud.”
Ryder winces, running a hand over his beard. “I hate you heard that argument. Anyway, with race season coming up, I need to lie low and focus. The last thing I need is a media storm.”
Ah, message received, Ryder. “I fly home tomorrow. You won’t see me again. Problem solved.”
He moves in closer, every inch of his body pressing against mine. “Never say that again, Gigi. I don’t need you further from me. Quite the opposite, in fact. Besides, the media already knows about you and they’re loving the angle of reunited childhood friends.”
Pushing my hands against his rock-hard chest, I force a few inches between us. “What are you saying?”
“We need to keep dating.”
“But we’re not dating, Ryder. I mean, according to the media we are—”
“And it needs to stay that way,” Ryder interjects, his tone firm and unrelenting.
I choke on my breath, stunned by his request. “To appease the media?”
“For many reasons, the media among them.”
“You’re joking.”
Please tell me you’re joking, Ryder.
“I’m serious, but this isn’t some one-sided deal. I’ll make it worth your while. All the debts that bastard left you with? I’ll pay them off, in full.”
To my dismay, I feel tears backing up in my eyes as the truth settles over me. I’m so stupid and naïve. Here I thought Ryder was falling for me, spouting such sweet and sexy lines. In truth, I’m his way out of a sticky marital situation.
“I need a drink.” It’s all I can manage before I slip from his grasp and make a beeline for the bar. I rarely imbibe, but this kick to the heart is enough to push me over the edge. Ryder doesn’t want to date me, but he’s willing to pay me to play the part.
I’m not sure whether to be flattered or mortified, but my heart is definitely leaning toward the latter.
Ryder slips into the seat next to me, ordering his own drink. “The last thing I want to do is upset you. I’m trying to help.”
A curt nod. It’s the best I can do as I swallow back some whiskey, feeling the burn wash down my throat. “It wouldn’t work.”
“Why?”
So many reasons, Ryder, but I’ll leave emotion out of it since that’s certainly a one-sided deal.
“We live several hundred miles apart, so it’s not like we’d see each other, anyway. You should find someone local to fill this position. I can’t even imagine why you’d want me… for the job.” The last words are strangled, but I manage a harsh laugh.
His hand skates along my spine, but I shrug off his touch. Let’s not mix business and pleasure. “First, you’d live with me in Charlotte. I need you close. Second, there are a million reasons why I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I trust you, Greer, and I don’t trust women. You knew me before all of this celebrity bullshit. You know me, the real me. I need your help, and I know you need mine.”
“What about my job?”
“According to Greg, you hate your job. You’re overworked and underpaid.”
I pivot toward him, the whiskey already working as my snakiness comes into play. “Strippers surrounded you last night, yet somehow you spent the evening discussing my inadequacies. Glad to know I could provide such interesting fodder for you two.”
Ryder grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “There is nothing inadequate about you. You’re my definition of the perfect woman.”
He rocked my world with this cockamamie plan, now it’s time to return the favor. “Richard left me with twenty thousand dollars of debt. Bet you didn’t know it was that much, right? Care to change your tune? Find someone else now?”
“I’ll gladly pay every dime.”
I can’t think or breathe. I need space. Somewhere to clear my head. “Will you excuse me, please? I need a few minutes.”
“Gigi—”
I cut him off, holding up my hand and turning on my heel, searching for the closest exit. Once outside, I suck in lungfuls of desert air. Nothing like 105-degree heat to settle the nerves. Said no one, ever. My brain is racing like a horse on speed, circling the offer Ryder laid out in front of me.
Date him for the next two to three months, all while living in his luxurious digs in Charlotte. I’m not sure what his angle is in this situation. What does he stand to gain? Avoid a media storm? What does that even mean? He’s been plastered across numerous tabloids for years, what’s the big deal now?
My heart and mind wage a war over the offer, but any peace is interrupted as the door swings open.
“Hey, Sis. You okay?”
I pull Greg into a tight squeeze, the tears finally breaking free of their chains.
“Why are you crying?”
No way will I involve Greg in this debacle. “I can’t believe you’re married. It seems like yesterday I was making you ice cream sundaes.”
“No need to stop that,” Greg jokes, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”
“Eh, you’re worth it.”
“I have some news, Gigi.”
“Is Jillian pregnant?”
Greg’s eyes widen as he sputters his beer. “She’d better not be. I’d like a few months of newlywed bliss. No, I’m moving to Charlotte.”
“What?” That’s it. I’ve definitely fallen down a wormhole.
“Ryder has an opening on his pit crew. He offered me the job last night.”
Now how am I supposed to hate the man?
I give my brother a soft jab in the ribs before hugging him about the waist. “That’s amazing, Greg. What an opportunity.”
“For us both. You and Ryder, I like you together. You two make sense.”
Well, Greg cracked open the door. Might as well let him in on my quandary.
“Ryder asked me to move to Charlotte, too, albeit temporarily. He needs my help with the brewing media fallout from his ex-lover. Whatever that means.”
I expect Greg to huff in anger, like a bull in front of a red flag. Instead, he smirks, biting back a laugh. “Did he now?”
“He most certainly did. I don’t plan on accepting his offer, obviously.”
Greg’s brow shoots upward. “Why not?”
Is my brother serious? “For so many reasons.”
“Such as?”
I stand there for a few seconds, my brain rattling off all the reasons that ten minutes ago sounded valid and now sound ridiculous. “It’s dishonest.”
“Please tell me you’re not worried about hurting the integrity of the media. Seriously, what has he asked you to do?”
“Move in with him and pretend to be his girlfriend for the next two to three months.”
Another smirk. If he keeps it up, I’m smacking it off his face, wedding day or no.
“What is so funny?”
“If a rich, beautiful woman that I was crazy about asked me to move in with her and pose as her boyfriend, I sure wouldn’t be out here pouting about it.”
“You think I should do it?”
