by Jodi Linton
Hannah ceremoniously raised her hand to her heart. “You had me at Let me help you with your bag. But I’ll give you extra points for the road snacks.”
“I knew I’d eventually sweep you off your feet.”
“Just be warned, if you packed health bars you’ll never be able to make a swoonworthy comeback again.” She smiled. “I thought you’d show up on a motorcycle decked in leather.”
He had to laugh. “Nah, I only bring out the hog for the real fiancées,” Nate said, sounding cockier than he intended. “Besides I knew you’d pack a lot of crap so I figured the Jeep was a better ride.”
Her hazelnut gaze met his. “I hope you’re ready to spin this fiancé tale. All my old school buddies will be at this wedding, and they’ll have lots of questions.”
“Relax, Hannah. I’m not done buttering you up yet.” Nate tossed the luggage into the back of his Jeep Wrangler then turned to face her. He’d never considered himself a nervous man, but at the exact moment the breeze caught her hair and her eyes sparkled in amusement he felt his stomach hit the ground and ache to take off running. Not like he’d ever get to be the reason for such a pretty smile. Displeasure prickled his neck. He shook off the unease and stared at Hannah. “First lesson in the game of having a meaningless romance is to appear like we’re actually a real couple.”
Her eyes flashed with irritation. “We aren’t sleeping together.”
The black box felt heavy in his jeans pocket. Like a two-ton weight. What had he been thinking swinging by the jewelry store to buy Hannah a ring? Nothing. Well, at least nothing but finding her the perfect cut. Keeping up with the show, right, buddy? He retrieved it from his pocket and groaned. Here’s goes nothing.
Forcing an easygoing smile, Nate opened the box and produced a diamond ring. Before she could run or smack him with that oversized sunhat, he grabbed her left hand and slid it on her slender finger. “We’re officially unofficially engaged.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “Where did you get the ring? It’s gorgeous.”
“I made a little stop before picking you up this morning.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We have to make this look real. And now when the women at the wedding ask to see your ring you can wiggle the huge rock in their faces.”
She blinked. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” The diamond sparkled in the sunlight and looked like it belonged on her finger. “It’s just a weekend of faking it. I hope you didn’t spend too much. I don’t deserve such a fancy ring.”
It’s just a ring to keep up appearances. Except he’d wanted to make Hannah feel special, too. Give her something to gloat about at the wedding. She’d always second-guessed herself ever since they’d known each other. But Nate considered Hannah the most real person he knew. She followed her heart. And in his book that was the most admirable trait to have.
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You deserve so much more, Hannah. You’re the smartest, kindest, funniest girl I know. Don’t let anyone ever tell you less. Understand?”
She stepped around him to open the passenger door. “You better watch out because I might just take off when all is said and done and hock this ring for a collection of vintage graphic tees.”
He smiled and climbed behind the wheel. In a week she’d find out he’d already signed her up for a lifetime supply of shirts from Humorous-Crack Tees.
An hour later, they were seated inside the Jeep, flying down the country road —and Nate couldn’t help sneaking a peak at Hannah mesmerized by the wildflower view. The strap on her dress had fallen down her arm and he couldn’t help but stare at the single freckle on her shoulder. He took the moment to his advantage and reached out to push the strap on her dress back into place. Ah, hell. Her skin felt good against his. She shifted, and long, curls brushed his knuckles before her attention focused on him. They might be faking their display of devotion, but he’d never once questioned the nature of their relationship. Although he’d started to question, especially with her lavender dress riding mid-thigh giving him a glimpse of smooth skin, if his affection went beyond I’m-a-guy-and-I-find-you-sexy friendly.
Sex was one thing. But actually caring for a woman enough to stick it out through the next morning was entirely foreign to Nate. And since their crazy run-in he’d been wondering what it’d be like to share morning coffee with Hannah. Repeatedly.
“We should probably go over our story.” Hannah broke his happy moment by discussing their fake engagement. “Like my favorite color, how we met, and our romantic proposal story. We need fireworks, Nate. We need to make my ex and everyone else believe we’re in love. ”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and focused on the road ahead. “Easy,” he said, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Colors aren’t your thing, patterns are. We met the summer before your eighth-grade year. I told you that your red hair made you look like Strawberry Shortcake. And I still stand by my notion that you’re the best redhead a guy could know,” he said, without an ounce of uncertainty. “Fireworks, huh? Let’s see…” He stopped the Jeep at a four-way stop and paused to soak in the stunned look on her face. “I gave each one of the kids in your preschool class a pink-polka-dot balloon, and when you walked into the classroom they let the balloons go, revealing me in a funny graphic tee and on one knee.”
She stared, her wide eyes twinkling in amusement. “Dang, you’ve got major fake-engagement moves. I do like bubble-gum pink,” she said. “What did your shirt say?”
“‘Will you marry me, Hannah,’ written above a picture of a cat in sunglasses.”
“I’d pay to see that romantic gesture in a movie.” She rummaged inside her purse and produced a bag of candy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you could become damn addictive.”
Nate shrugged, feeling a bit disgruntled. Oddly enough, he’d hoped his stellar make-believe proposal would’ve gotten him more than a good-job high-five. He knew their engagement was just for show. Of course he did. He’d been the one to initially suggest the idea, yet her casual brush-offs were starting to make him frustrated. Add to the mix a sexy Hannah, and he’d silently be cursing himself for the rest of the weekend.
“I know one addiction you have.”
Hannah bit the head off a Gummy Bear and slumped in her seat. “And what might that be Mr. Fake Engagement Whisperer?”
He stole a gummy from the bag in her lap and plopped the whole piece in his mouth. “You like to decapitate helpless candy bears.”
“Only the green ones, I do.”
“Good thing green isn’t my favorite color.”
She laughed, brushing her bare thigh against his, and heck, there was no denying the friction of attraction that slammed him in the gut. At the sudden touch of flesh on flesh he saw her pretty mouth part on a gulp. He shrugged, a smile threatening at his lips as he shifted the Jeep into drive.
“Save me the red ones, Hannah.” He hit the gas and took off. “Next stop wedding central.”
Chapter 4
“Look at you trading in a nerdy scientist for a bad-boy biker.”
The maid of honor sipped on her martini glass, a faint smile pulling her red glossed lips together as she watched Nate hunched over the bar. In his worn-in jeans and old white cotton T-shirt he’d managed to catch the eye of every woman within the vicinity of the pool table, single maid of honor included. They exchanged glances, and that oh-so-desirable grin popped at his dimples. Jeez. She’d spent the whole drive to Berry Hill stalking the chiseled indentions of his face. Something odd slammed in Hannah’s chest at the fact Sally Bedletter, her freshman semester college roommate and once best friend, was openly gawking at her fiancé. Fake or not, she felt a tinge of jealously. Heck. They’d only been in the wedding party’s company for two hours, and by God, Nate was her fake lover.
So retract the claws ladies. I have the ring. Well, for another forty-eight hours and thirty minutes. And why did she care? Nothing would come from this weekend anyway.
Keep your head out of the clouds.
“Well, you look happy.” Sally winked. “Two months ago you looked like a woman on the verge of taking in a bunch of cats. I like happy Hannah so much better than I’m crying my poor eyes out over a lab rat.”
Sally was drunk. That’s what Hannah told herself, anyway, because she happened to be the second person to call her happy since running into Nate. No, finding her path in life was her new happiness. And showing the wedding guests she wasn’t a pushover anymore by publicly breaking up with Nate was going to be the beginning to her fresh start.
A deep voice she knew all too well drew her attention. She turned and felt her throat close on a strangled moan. His T-shirt had lifted, revealing abs that definitely possessed superhero qualities. Yeah, right, he was about as safe as that high school freshman’s wallet condom opened on prom night.
“What bad plans do you have for my fiancée?” Hannah tilted her head to the side and encountered Nate’s warm lips at her cheek. Golly Jeez, he was good at the faking part. Somehow Mr. Romance had body-snatched Nate Fox and she really, like oh my gosh, dug it. A beer plunked down in front of her. “I brought you another drink, cupcake.”
As she reached for the cold brewsky, she told herself not to fall into the charming-boy abyss. They were only hanging out for show, and that included the flirting, too. How about a dose of your own medicine, Fox? Hannah nodded. “Thanks, kitten.”
“Kitten?” Both eyebrows furrowed in question as he shoved his way into the booth to sling a muscled arm across her shoulders. He leaned closer and placed his mouth at her earlobe, whispering, “You know how cats and I don’t get along.”
“Sure I do, Nate.” She pointed out. “Remember that time when Cleaver’s cat chased your bike down the street in front of my house and you started shouting, ‘I’m freaking out here, will someone please wrangle the fluff ball.’”
Hazel eyes studied her so fiercely, she felt a low thrum in her belly. “Well, since then I’ve overcome my youthful fears.”
“You were twenty-one and riding your motorcycle. That’s pretty darn grown-up to me.”
A sigh caught Hannah’s attention. “Aw, new love.” Sally clapped her hands. “I want the full story. How did you meet the hot biker, Hannah?” The maid of honor looked from her to Nate. “Okay, I know, you aren’t a real biker. I Googled you, so I know you own Chrome Motorcycles, Mr. Businessman. But give me the dirty love story.”
Oh, boy.
His lips twisted into a sly grin. “Hannah here has a fondness for porn.”
Sally’s face beamed. “Porn? Well, aren’t you the little closet minx, Hannah.”
All she could do was stare at him, utterly mortified.
“After seven long years of being apart, we ran into each other two months ago at an adult novelty store. And since then we celebrate our monthly anniversary rehashing our second chance at love by buying porn together,” he said. “You might’ve read about our recent arrest mishap in the papers.”
“I did.” The maid of honor smiled. “Don’t tell me you proposed in a porn shop, too? Oh, please, tell me that’s how it all went down.”
Hannah stared at her newfound Romeo in disbelief. They were actually doing this, and even though she’d gone along with the plan minus no real arm twisting, she’d hoped that if they’d ever wound up together it would’ve been the real deal…not fake.
The guy causing her to question if her crushing days were ancient history reached out and gently stroked her cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through her system. Think about old men in their whitie tighties and sponge baths. Screw it, screw it. She shifted nervously in the booth. His thumb flew to her bottom lip and he tugged, drawing an unintentional moan from her. Taking this pretend lovers game to town, huh, Nate? Heat rushed up her neck, and her hands started to sweat at the slight brush of his hand against her sensitive flesh. “I had her preschool class help me pop the question with a dozen balloons,” he confirmed, never breaking eye contract, his regard growing more intense with each swallow she took.
“That’s…” Sally paused on a gasp. “That’s the best love story I’ve ever heard.”
Hannah glanced at Nate, not sure if she desired to kiss the troublemaker or deck him. “He put Prince Charming to shame.”
That dimple was playing tricks on her, because it’d actually given her the squinty-flirt eye maneuver when it bounced in his cheek. “Aw shucks. To think I skipped over buying you the glass slippers for the wedding weekend getaway. Hopefully that bag of green gummy bears I stashed in our hotel room will keep me out of the doghouse.”
All she could do was smile at that comment.
Sally scooted out of the booth. “Well, lovebirds, I’m sneaking off to see if I can find a groomsman to hook up with.” She giggled. “See y’all both tomorrow at brunch, and then we duke it out on the flag football field.”
With a wave, the maid of honor escaped through the packed bar, leaving Hannah squeezed into a really small booth with a man who was short-circuiting all her common sense.
“Porn shop anniversary meetups?” She narrowed her gaze on him. “What the hell, Nate? When you’re long and gone, I’ll still have to be friends with these people.”
Nate flipped a piece of hair off her shoulder. “The best kind of lies all have a bit of truth to them, wouldn’t you say?”
She gulped. “You have a history of avoiding the truth. I think we both can agree on that.”
He threw his hands up in surrender. “And I brought you to the dark side. But at least we’ve had fun avoiding both our conflicts.”
“You won’t hear any complaining on my end.”
“So does this mean you’ll clue me in on the flag football game?”
“First I need to know if you are any good at throwing around the pigskin.” Her smile cracked, although she tried really hard not to laugh. Knowing Nate played football in high school was one of the many reasons she’d gathered a crush on him. That and the fact he was just a nice guy at heart, even if he covered up all those good intentions with his playboy ways. A big hand touched her knee, and she jumped at the contact. She looked at him. “It’s the wedding party Olympics. Flag football. And tomorrow we’ll see if the boys can beat the girls.”
Laugh lines creased his eyes, and his mouth tightened into a sly grin. He turned toward her, and when he didn’t stop closing the distance between them, she scooted back into the wall. He lifted an arm and braced his hand next to her head. Their gazes met. “Like a girls rule, boys drool moment, huh?” That cocky grin returned. “I think you’re cute, really I do.” His voice dropped an octave. “But I’m still not letting you beat me at football tomorrow.”
Had he actually growled?
She watched her willpower take a nosedive into the beer clasped in her hand. Do not think about his sexy lips on yours, Hannah. How they tasted or made you melt? Bad thoughts when it came to the overall plan. She couldn’t afford to be crushing on Nate, again. Ever. Pulling a card from the Nate Fox stack, she decided to ignore the way her libido had gone haywire. Eyelashes fluttering, she looked at him and said, “Tequila. We need shots.”
His smile fell. “Not sure if that’s a good idea. Tequila always leads to trouble. Well, in my experience it does.”
“Nonsense. We passed our first fake-engagement test. Fooling the maid of honor.” Hannah got in Nate’s face and smiled. “I’m buying.”
Nate poked a finger in the air. “One shot. Then we call it a night.”
She wrapped her hand around his finger and met his intense gaze. “Agreed. No more than one lime wedge.”
Whoever said drinking the worm led to trouble didn’t have a clue as to what they were talking about, Nate included. Jose Cuervo had just gotten her out of a sticky situation.
Seven shot glasses, five l
ime wedges, and an inebriated fake fiancée later had placed Nate in his own little nine circles of hell. Earlier in the bar, Hannah probably considered his flirting par for the course to their little charade, but he’d meant every goddamn word. Each touch. And now he was the designated bed timer.
Go figure. Good guys always got the short end of the stick.
“Tequila and I are besties, now, which means you’ve been replaced.” Hannah giggled against his neck. She closed one eye then tried to blink the other. “Did you know you were triplets, Nate?”
He groaned, feeling justifiably irritated at the turn of events. Thirty minutes ago, Hannah had slung back her seventh shot before he’d managed to drag her behind out of the bar. But then she’d called him cute. And exactly when did a woman referring to him as cute make him want to fuck her up against wall? Fine. The moment Hannah uttered the frilly term of endearment it had.
Mind out of the gutter and eyes on the prize…the business deal, that was.
He hauled her closer to his body and shoved open the door to their hotel room. “Bad news, Hannah, but I’m afraid to inform you that you’ll be talking to the great white telephone all night.”
Soft fingers carressed his forearm, and instantly the move triggered his cock to redhead salute. “Are you calling me a lightweight?”
“If the shoe fits, honey, I say wear it. Wear it proud.”
He began to cautiously lower her onto the bed, except she was a slippery drunk and fell from his grasp. There, sprawled out on the bed in front of him, was a woman who had somehow gone from a porn shop nuisance to someone he knew he’d have trouble walking away from once they ended their fake display of love. Spunky, charismatic, and just plain old Hannah had slammed him in the chest. Hard. And she was his. Right now, right here, until the weekend ended, they were something important to each other. Following his partner’s lead on keeping their business deal had suddenly turned out to be more complicated than originally planned.
