A Brit Unexpected (Castle Calder Book 2)

by Brenda St John Brown

  “Great. Mike is going to want some intimacy, whether it’s a kiss on the cheek or something more. It’s up to you what you feel comfortable with.”

  I swear to God, Greyson could be asking whether I prefer chicken or beef for all the emotion he’s showing. Though I guess that’s the point. This isn’t emotional for him at all, and it shouldn’t be for me either. I clear my throat and my voice is clear and cool when I speak. “A kiss on the cheek is fine. I could do a bit more as long as you’re not a sloppy kisser.”

  “I’ve never had any complaints.” Greyson gives a sharp nod. “We’ll say maybe on the kiss. What about providing a statement or a sound bite? I think this is a little trickier for you because it will, essentially, out you. So if you prefer to remain anonymous, that’s fine, but we have to spin it differently.”

  “Christ on a bike. I don’t want to actually be out there.” Fuzzy pictures from afar are one thing, but I thought the focus here was on Greyson.

  “No problem. We can work with that. It’s pretty straightforward, really. We’ll get a few candid shots, but make sure your face is obscured. Maybe enlist your friend, Scarlett, to help? Mike will handle all of the social media and hopefully by Sunday this shit storm will have subsided and we can both go back to our normal lives.” Greyson smiles and leans back, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa.

  I’m glad he’s done talking for a minute because I quite admire the view. His suit jacket is open, revealing a white shirt pulled tight against his chest, a triangle of tan throat visible. It’s his throat that gets me. That makes me want to press my lips against the soft skin there, photo op be damned…

  Greyson coughs a little and the lazy grin on his face leaves no doubt he totally caught me ogling. “You see something you like there, Claire Bear?”

  Oh, bloody hell. I hold his eyes because the alternative is running from the room with my face on fire. “Just seeing what I have to work with. The key to good marketing is understanding the product, after all.”

  Greyson lets out another loud laugh, but I’m more prepared for it this time. “I thought the key to good marketing was to under promise and over deliver.”

  “No, that only helps with repeat sales, and this is a one-time event. It’s a different mindset than if you’re going for long-term gains. Your secondary goal is a long-term one, obviously, but…” I let my voice trail off because Greyson’s grinning at me like I just gave him an Oscar nomination instead of a marketing spiel. “What are you laughing at?”

  “I’m not laughing at all. I’m just thinking that you’re much more than a pretty face, aren’t you?”

  “Wow. Patronizing much?” I raise my eyebrows at him because, seriously. He should know better.

  He has the grace to look embarrassed. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that you’re quite passionate about your subject.”

  “In general, yes. But in this case, I got carried away.” I shrug. “The hazards of eating, breathing, and sleeping my master’s thesis, I guess.”

  “What is your thesis about?” Greyson asks.

  I widen my eyes to give him a chance to renege on the question, but he only widens his eyes in response. “To what extent brand loyalty influences brand equity. In other words, does a brand with high brand loyalty, like Heinz, perform better overall because of its established customer base or does the revolving-door effect have a stronger impact on the bottom line?”

  “And what have you found?”

  What I’ve found could fill a book. In fact, it eventually will, but I doubt very much it will be a book Greyson’s interested in. So I smile and say, “Heinz makes baked beans and it’s true what they say. They are good for your heart.”

  It takes Greyson ten seconds, but then he laughs. Bloody hell, he’s beautiful with his head thrown back like that. If that’s the reward, then the implied eight year-old fart joke was totally worth it. I laugh, too, and my smile is still wide when he says, “I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

  “Well then, I think you need to get out more.” I grin.

  But his smile fades. “Hence the problem. You know, within ten minutes of arriving here today, I had Mike telling me about Alexa and how I wouldn’t even be in this situation if I stayed in the public eye a little more. I should be going out, having fun, meeting people, so if this kind of thing arises, it doesn’t require a reconnaissance mission to contradict it. He never once asked if what she was saying was true, which, in case it’s at all unclear, it’s not. It never has been. It never will be. The end. In a way, it doesn’t matter to him whether it’s true or not because to him it’s about saving my brand.”

  Truth be told, I’m more than a little impressed Greyson’s made a connection between my rambling and his status quo. Especially because he’s not wrong. “So, is our little deal you experimenting with the revolving-door effect?”

  “Well, no. I’m hoping one fake girlfriend will be enough, to be honest. I’m not sure I have it in me to make this a regular thing.” Greyson smiles. It’s one of his good ones. I find myself smiling back at him and he says, “But for the record, you’ve never said you’re actually in.”

  Am I? Greyson hasn’t asked what’s in it for me, which is annoying because I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s his own reward. But what would I say if he did ask? Well, I kind of want to use you to help me get over my ex once and for all? Plus, you know, I could use the money. Given that stellar trio, it’s probably better he does think it’s him. With one selfish clarification on my part.

  I make myself hold Greyson’s gaze. “I’ll play your girlfriend this weekend, but I don’t want to go down in history as a hook-up. When we inevitably break up, I’d like the story to be that we had a brief but beautiful fling.”

  “A brief but beautiful fling?” Greyson’s tone is more than a little incredulous. “You’d actually say that?”

  “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Take it or leave it.”

  I have nothing to lose by not doing this and he knows it. As evidenced by the words that come out of his mouth in the tone I usually reserve for cleaning the bathroom. “Fine. We’ll do it your way and have a brief and beautiful fake fling.”

  “Fabulous.” I grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Chapter Five

  Greyson spends the next fifteen minutes asking me questions about myself, including what’s my favorite place I’ve visited–Cornwall when I was little–and what do I like to do in my free time—um, what free time? He says he wants to get to know me and refuses to answer anything about himself other than one question about his favorite food—lasagna. I’m not used to being on the receiving end of such intense attention from someone, let alone a guy like Greyson, and I finally abandon any pretense of eating and push my plate away.

  “You’re sure you don’t want some of that?” Greyson asks. “You might need your stamina.”

  “For all the fake hot sex we’re going to have? Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” In truth, it was easier to act normal when we were having a conversation. This feels like an interrogation.

  “Fake hot sex? At least you finally admit it would be hot.” He pushes himself up from the sofa. God, he’s tall. And so damn good-looking. It would be a cliché if it didn’t take my breath away. Which is also a bit of a cliché, come to think of it. “Are you ready to go do some fake flirting for the cameras?”

  I stand up quickly, as much to stop my ogling as anything else. “Sure. Let’s.”

  When Greyson and I emerge from the library, it’s with his arm around my shoulders and me silently freaking out. Greyson Vaughn’s not only touching me (again!!), he’s pulling me in close and we’re about to walk into a room filled with my extended family, who are definitely going to notice this turn of events. He leans down and says, “If our fake relationship is going to be believable, Claire Bear, you need to relax.”

  “If our fake relationship is going to last one more minute, you have to stop calling me
that right now. I mean it.” It’s one thing for my cousins to call me that, but they’ve been doing it since we were kids and I’m almost immune. Hearing Greyson say it? All the cringing.

  Greyson leans in and, dammit, there’s his aftershave again. “What would you like me to call you then? Lover? Darling?”

  I give him a tight smile, but keep my eyes focused on his shoulder. “Claire is fine.”

  “You don’t want to have pet names for each other? I think it adds a certain something, don’t you?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not that good of an actress.” The words come out in a snotty tone, but they’re true. The minute I try to call Greyson ‘sweetheart’ I’ll choke and the ruse will be over before it’s begun.

  “Fine. It’s probably better to be yourself anyway.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I laugh a little.

  Greyson twirls me until my back is against the wood-paneled wall and he’s standing a foot away from me, his hands on my shoulders, with an unexpectedly intense expression on his face. “I haven’t been myself in public since I was about seventeen, unfortunately. Occupational hazard.”

  “We’re not in public.” I mean, we’re in an empty hallway in a public hotel, but we’re the only ones in it.

  “If you don’t think this is part of the charade, then we’re not ready for prime time. When we walk back into the dining room, eventually someone’s going to take a photo of us. Even if ends up on your cousin Nigel’s Facebook page, it will be out there.”

  “I know for a fact Nigel’s anti-Facebook.” I fight a grin. That’s not Greyson’s point, but Nigel? Really?

  “Okay, Caleb then. Or Scarlett. The point is, from this point on, I’m Greyson Vaughn, actor and public persona, and you’re my pseudo girlfriend. Which means I’m going to hold your hand, dote on you, stay close, and probably be overly solicitous to the point of being annoying.” Greyson takes a step closer. There are only six inches between us now.

  A small thrill shoots through me, but my voice stays cool when I speak. “Okay? Just out of curiosity, what if you weren’t Greyson Vaughn, actor? What if I walked back in there with Greyson Vaughn, average guy?”

  Greyson narrows his eyes at me as he grins. “Well, the first thing I’d do is make sure you never use the words ‘average guy’ and ‘Greyson Vaughn’ in the same sentence ever again.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘put your money where your mouth is’?”

  Greyson closes the gap between us, bracing his hand on the wall behind me. Our bodies aren’t quite touching, but three more inches and they will be. His lips graze my ear and his breath is hot on my skin as he says, “I can think of several places I’d like to put my mouth right now.”

  Shine a light. Heat shoots through me and I feel my face flush. I stare at the button on his shirt for a good thirty seconds before tilting my head back to look up. Our lips are close—too close—and I spend a few seconds studying his mouth before letting my gaze travel upwards.

  Where the heat in my veins turns to ice. Greyson’s eyes are cool and flat and he’s looking at the wall or my hair or something. He’s definitely not gazing at my lips wanting to devour them. For that matter, I doubt he even realizes I have lips. Wow, I’m an idiot. Full stop.

  I bite the inside of my cheek and duck under his arm. “You’re going to have to knock that off if you want me to do this.” I take a step and keep my back to him so he can’t see my embarrassment at being so easily fooled. “Just saying.”T

  Greyson grabs my elbow. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to get a drink and while I’m at it, I promised Caleb I’d run interference with Grandmother. She likes to question his life choices.” I arrange my mouth into a half smile and turn a little. “He owns one of those bargain booze places. Does really well, but it’s not something she feels she can brag about, so she’s forever trying to convince him to apply his skills to something else.”

  “What about our deal?”

  I shrug and pray my face doesn’t give anything away. Like disappointment. “My question exactly. You were the one who mentioned parameters in the first place. I didn’t think they included you fake flirting with me unless we were playing it up for the cameras.”

  I take a step and Greyson lets go of my arm. The tapping of my heels echoes on the wooden floor, and I wait to hear his footsteps behind me, but he doesn’t follow. When I pull the door open to the dining room and let it shut softly behind me, it’s all I can do not to lean against it, in both relief and frustration. Everyone’s milling about the pudding selection and no one notices me slip in, so I root myself by the door to think for a minute.

  I don’t even need that long. My reaction when I thought Greyson was genuinely flirting with me says it all. The truth is, I was this close to getting in over my head with him. I would have done it, too, if he were a better actor. If that isn’t absurdity, I don’t know what is.

  “Hey, where’s your friend?” Scarlett comes up and links her elbow with mine. “I saw you slip out with your plates. Romantic meal for two?”

  “Not so much. In fact, I didn’t really eat.” Which, in retrospect, seems foolish. “Is there anything left in the kitchen I can pinch?”

  Scarlett studies my face, then nods. “Come on. Lou made beef bourguignon yesterday, which beats damn salmon any day.”

  When I’m perched on a stool by the counter five minutes later savoring my second bite of the rich beef stew, I’m glad I didn’t eat the salmon. “This is delicious. Where is Lou, anyway? I want to say hello.”

  Lou is the chief chef at Calder Castle. She calls herself a cook and doesn’t let anyone make much of a fuss over her, even though she’s one of most important members of staff in the whole place. And not only for her food, but for the way she brings everyone together and is so genuinely nice. When I first started working here, I used to fantasize that she’d offer to adopt me. She didn’t, but she treats me like one of her own and that’s almost as good.

  “She went home. Her daughter has a serious boyfriend and he’s coming over tonight to meet the family. We’ll get the full report tomorrow.” Scarlett grins. “Speaking of, I’m doing a rather stellar job of not asking what happened with Greyson, but I feel my reserve waning.”

  I set my plate on the counter and sigh. “He’s come around, apparently, and he asked me to take on the job of acting the part of his girlfriend. Key words acting and job, complete with parameters and a discussion about acceptable behavior. First chance he had, he blew it.”

  The humiliation of it still stings, but I focus on Scarlett gaping at me. “Meaning what? He hiked up your dress and tried to have his way with you in the library?”

  “No.” I smile a little. “But he crossed a line. And it was his damn insistence we draw the line in the first place.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Scarlett scrunches up her nose. She looks like a rabbit.

  “If I’m going to do this, I need to know exactly what it is and what it isn’t. I mean, come on, it’s not like I do this every day. I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

  “Neither do I.” Greyson’s voice is soft over my left shoulder.

  I widen my eyes at Scarlett and she nods ever so slightly, so I pivot on my stool. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry. That was a dick move back there.” Greyson’s voice is still soft and his posture is different. The swagger is gone and he looks almost boyish. “Can we start over?”

  “Start over as in?”

  “As in I’ll save my attempts at seduction for the cameras and I promise to be a complete gentleman, until you request otherwise.” Greyson grins. It’s not quite as great as the one he flashed earlier, but it’s not bad either.

  It doesn’t escape me that he’s still flirting, and I have a feeling his word choice is intentional. Not because he really hopes I’ll come on to him, but because he’s used to playing the hottie card to deflect attention away from himself.

  I know an avo
idance tactic when I see one. I also know if I have any hope in hell of pulling this off, I have to stop seeing Greyson Vaughn, actor, and start seeing Greyson Vaughn, not-so-average average guy. I keep my gaze steady on his as I ask, “Why are you here this weekend? You could be anywhere right now, so how did you end up here and how is my grandmother involved?”

  Greyson doesn’t answer straight away, but he doesn’t break eye contact either. I feel like he’s waiting for me to back down to see how truthful he has to be. I barely blink. Finally he sighs and says, “Mike thought it would be a good weekend to lay low and spend with family. Your family, it turns out. My brother is at school in Colorado, which is a little far for two days off. My dad is off saving the penguins in South Africa. I haven’t even spoken to him in three months, never mind an impromptu visit. And my mother lives with her new boyfriend in a lovely place in Rome. I have a standing invitation, and it was tempting, but they haven’t been together very long so I decided to come here rather than be a third wheel to their little love fest.”

  My heart pangs. I know how Greyson feels, having been a third wheel to my grandmother and her various boyfriends my whole life. I nod and then ask, “Why didn’t you and Mike stay in London?”

  Greyson side eyes me like he thinks I’m overstepping, but says, “Because Mike wasn’t in London. He and your grandmother have been here for a couple of days already. And since I have to be in Manchester for a BBC thing on Monday, it made more sense for me to come here.” He pauses then says, “Any more questions, sweetheart?”

  “A million, at least, muffin.” I smile, but it’s true. Seeing this tiny glimpse of Greyson makes him more human, less god, which can only be a good thing. “But they can wait. Especially if we’re going to make our couple debut. After pudding, everyone will move back into the bar. I say we join them there.”

  “So that means you’re willing to go through with this?” Greyson asks.

  “I’m willing to pretend to be your girlfriend for the weekend as long as you hold up your part of the bargain.” I give him a saccharine smile.