by Roxy Reid
And he does.
His lips are firm, possessive, his hand confident as he holds my face exactly where he wants it. It’s not a first kiss. There’s no tentative how are you? is this ok? What do you like? It’s the kiss of a man who’s kissed his partner hundreds of times and knows exactly how she likes it.
I moan a little, and Joshua kisses me harder, before abruptly breaking away.
“Right,” he says, his voice a little ragged. “I think we sold the bit.”
Joshua turns away, and reaches for the whiskey he set on the table earlier. Like he’s washing the taste of me from his mouth.
Joshua pulls up in front of my apartment, and we sit in silence. He’s sober — he stopped after that whiskey — but I’m a little tipsy. Not sloppy or anything – just enough that as the silence builds between us, I think of actually telling him how I feel.
And wouldn’t that be dangerous. Especially because I’m not even sure how I feel.
“About the kiss–” Joshua starts, but I cut him off with a hand on his arm.
“You definitely sold the bit. That’s why they give you the big bucks.”
He still looks a little tormented, so I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, “You’re a good man, Joshua King. So don’t worry. I’ll keep all your secrets.”
I get out of his fancy black car before he can do something else gentlemanly like offer to walk me the twenty feet to my door.
He doesn’t drive away until I’m safely in the apartment.
I drop my clutch, kick off my shoes, and flop down gratefully on the couch.
My world is spinning, and it’s not because of the alcohol.
That kiss was… wow.
I cover my face and groan. This is just my luck. I spend years going out with perfectly nice, unobjectionable men. But the man who finally wakes me up and tilts my world sideways is a movie star who is only interested in me as a P.R. shield.
It is possible I am in over my head.
I get out my phone to dial my best friend Jax. I need emotional reinforcements. Someone to talk me off the ledge and tell me not to get reckless and swoony over a kiss.
I hesitate. Jax will 100% encourage me to get reckless and swoony over a kiss. That’s pretty much her brand.
Besides, what would I tell her? Joshua King took me to a premiere, and yes I am wearing his ring, but you see, it was our first kiss and it kind of knocked me for a loop… Oh, why am I convinced he doesn’t like me?... Well, it’s a long story and I can’t tell you any of it. In fact, I’ve already said too much.
No, Jax isn’t the right person to talk to.
I scroll through my phone, wondering who can give me the support I need.
My phone is filled with friends and family, but no one is quite right to text about this.
I scroll past the “J”s, and my brain perks up even as my heart sinks.
The person I want to text about this is Joshua.
I toss the temptation of my phone away and stand. I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor, then pad over to my kitchen to get some water to wash down all that opening night alcohol.
I catch my reflection in the dark mirror of the back window, and I hesitate. All I’m wearing is my lingerie, and Joshua’s ring.
I turn and twist, examining the dark fall of my hair, the curve of my waist, the soft rise of my breasts. I trail my hand across my collar bones, down my side. It’s been a long time since a guy has seen me this close to naked.
Not that anyone’s going to see me like this anytime soon. DEFINITELY not Joshua.
Rule #1: No physical affection in private.
Still, I raise my arms and twist my hair into a pile on top of my head, trying to imagine what a hypothetical partner would think.
I mean, I think I’m beautiful.
But I don’t know if a man would find some flaw I’m not seeing, the same way I always seem to find flaws in them. In their scents, or their jokes, or their jobs, or just the way they move. That constant refrain of Not him. Not him. Not this one.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m being too picky. But for all the fucked-up-ness of this fake relationship with Joshua it’s teaching me one thing.
I’m not being too picky. Because if a kiss can feel like that, I don’t want to settle.
Now, all I have to do is find a man who kisses like Joshua, but who is not a client, and who is actually into me.
I snort, and let my hair fall back down around me. I find a sweatshirt to slide over my bra, and gulp a glass of water.
First, I have to survive this turducken of a launch party within a launch party.
I’ll worry about dating later.
10
Sienna
“Sienna!” Carlotta barks, and I jump at my desk. My head is pounding from last night, and everything on my body is sore. Who knew standing in heels for five hours while sucking in your stomach and faking happiness was so physically demanding.
“In my office,” Carlotta says, and there’s steel in her voice. “Now.”
I get up and follow her into her office.
Unlike the fishbowl conference room, Carlotta’s office has real walls, so when I shut the door it’s just her and me and a panoramic view of the L.A. skyline.
She tosses me a tablet, and I fumble to catch it. It’s a gossip site, with a photo of Joshua and I kissing, paired with photos of us talking at the party, and a close-up of the ring on my left hand.
He really is a good actor. In every picture, Joshua looks like an utterly smitten man who can’t believe his luck.
My heart twists a little.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say, passing the tablet back. Unfortunately, I use my left hand, and she sees the ring.
“Not what it looks like? Not what it looks like? Because it looks like a mid-tier executive used my company like a dating service instead of doing the job she was hired to do,” Carlotta storms over to the window and stares at the city, her back to me.
“I was willing to cut you some slack, when they first started publishing those rumors,” Carlotta says without turning around. “You’re a professional with a good track record, and God knows the tabloids will publish anything. But to actually get engaged? After what, a month? Did you ever really want this job, or was it just a way to snag a rich husband?”
“No! It’s not…” I search for a way to explain that won’t betray Joshua’s secrets. “There are certain… partnerships in Joshua’s life that require discretion. I’m helping him with that.”
Carlotta doesn’t turn around.
So I decide to play my ace, “In exchange for which, he’ll be giving us a permanent contract after the launch party.”
That gets her attention, and she finally looks at me, “How did you…”
I shrug, “You said do anything to get the account.”
She stares at me, and I hold my breath. Like everyone else in Hollywood, she wants to land Joshua King. But she’s also got a strict code of conduct for her employees. It’s how she attracts people like Joshua King. And I’ve just broken every one of her rules.
Not how she thinks I have but still.
Finally, Carlotta speak,. “I’m leaving you on Mr. King’s account. Against my better judgement, I might add. You have until the launch party to get him to sign a permanent contract with us. If he doesn’t, or if you do literally anything else to harm the reputation of this firm, you are fired.”
Carlotta jabs a finger at me, “Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She dismisses me with a wave of her hand, and I escape.
This job just keeps getting better and better.
11
Joshua
I’m kissing Sienna again, but this time I’m in her bed. Or my bed. It keeps changing, which is my first clue that this is a dream.
I should… I should definitely wake up. Or change the dream. Or…
Sienna kisses me again, and now we’re back on the red carpet, and cameras are flashing around us. I
need to protect her. I need to protect her, but I don’t know how.
Oh, is that your motivation? Protection? I don’t really think that’s coming through here. It’s the director from my very first movie, emerging from the crowd of paparazzi, his hand resting on his chin thoughtfully. What if we play it like you’re a selfish, ruthless bastard out to screw her over? Ooooo, I like that. Kiss her like you’re out to ruin her life. Rolling!
No. NO. I shove everyone and everything away, and suddenly Sienna and I are back in my bed.
She’s naked, that silky dark hair of hers pooling against her skin. Across my sheets. I reach out to run a hand down her shoulder, and that’s good, but it’s not enough. I need more.
What do you need, Joshua? she asks, propping herself up on one elbow, and smiling down at me. It’s that mischievous, flirty tone she almost never uses.
She’s touching me now, her hands running over me. And then she’s on top of me, kissing me. I’m lost in her, but she’s pulling away, her lips following her hands, going down, down, down.
It’s ok, Joshua, she says. You can trust me.
And then she takes me in her mouth.
My alarm goes off, and I wake with a gasp.
Fuck.
I sit up and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. For a minute, I just sit there, breathing, trying to get my heart, and other things, to calm down.
It’s not news that I’m attracted to her. I know that. Attraction is just that… attraction. It doesn’t mean anything.
We’ve been working together closely, pretending to be engaged. Add in attraction, and the fact that Sienna Bridges is a hell of kisser, and it’s not shocking that I’d dream about her.
As long as I keep everything strictly professional in real life (or as professional as you can be in the context of a fake engagement) there’s no reason to freak out. A dream is just a dream. I’m a man, she’s hot, my body reacted. It happens.
I mean, I’ve obviously had a sex dream before.
Granted, this is the first time in years I’ve had a dream about a specific woman.
I ignore that inconvenient truth and jump out of bed, planning a long hard workout.
I’m going to hell. I really am.
Because a few weeks ago when Sienna asked if there were any other public events we should be attending together, I told her about Poppy’s science fair.
At least it’s outside in the courtyard, instead of in the cafeteria, so the din of small children screaming about science can float up into the afternoon air, which does help. A little.
But the din isn’t the reason I asked Sienna to attend. No, I asked her to attend because I am tired of getting hit on at my child’s school functions. This seemed like a perfect job for a fake fiancée pre- wildly inappropriate sex dream. Post sex dream, it somehow seems like crossing yet another line that shouldn’t be crossed.
At least Poppy likes her.
I’ve explained to Poppy that she’s not really getting a new step-mom, that this is a secret acting game we’re doing for Daddy’s work. There’s a risk Poppy will still tell people — she’s eight, after all — but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. There’s no way I’m screwing with my kid’s emotions by lying about something that big to her.
I’m a few feet away in line for the punch, but I can still keep an eye on both of them. Sienna crouches to ask some questions about Poppy’s experiment, which has something to do with which of the fabrics used in my action hero costumes would actually hold up the best in a real-world fight. The answer, unsurprisingly, is none, and Poppy’s having a great time explaining that to all the adults around her. She even drew a stick figure of me without clothes, and my hair on fire, to illustrate.
She’s pretty damn cute, if I do say so myself, but Sienna’s going above and beyond cute-kid-at-the-science-fair duty. She’s asking follow up questions, challenging Poppy to think deeper. I can see Poppy frowning in concentration as she thinks through the answer, and I feel a a new burst of pride in my kid.
“You know what Poppy said when she saw pictures of you two on the red carpet?” Brittney says behind me, and I jump.
I tend to get jumpy when I don’t get enough rest. And having Sienna in my dreams is not particularly restful. Not that I’m thinking about that dream. Shit. New topic. Find a new topic.
“It’s good, you’re finally here,” I blurt. “The principal was giving us crap for not volunteering more, and I’ve been keeping up my end, so–”
“When Poppy saw you both on the red carpet, she said, ‘Look Mommy, she has glasses like me,'” Brittney says, and I still.
I look over at Poppy and Sienna, and now that I know what I’m looking for, I can definitely see hero-worship in my daughter’s eyes.
It’s sweet as hell, but a part of me wants to scoop Poppy up and steal her away from future heartbreak. Don’t fall for her, I think. She’s not staying.
Not that Brittney can know that. I love Brittney. She has many good qualities. Keeping other people’s business secrets is not one of them.
I turn back to Brittney, forcing a smile on my face, “Well, that’s cute.”
“Ha! I knew it. That’s your acting face,” Brittney pinches my arm and drags me out of the courtyard and around the corner, to an outdoor corridor thing where we have some privacy.
“Spill it, King,” Brittney says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, rubbing the spot on my arm where Brittney pinched me.
“You’ve never even gotten close to the aisle, and now you’re engaged to a woman you’ve known a month, who’s ten years younger than you, and she’s your employee.”
“She’s not my employee–”
“It’s close enough, Josh,” she crosses her arms. “I’d ask if she was pregnant, but you never offered to marry me when I was pregnant with Poppy.”
“No, but I did let you name her Poppy.”
“Be serious, Josh! What’s going on?”
I cross my arms and stare mutinously at my feet.
I don’t want to talk about Sienna with Brittney. Or anyone.
Brittney throws up her hands, “I’d think it was some weird overzealous plot for one of your business projects, except you’ve got smitten-face when you look at her.”
I look up at that. “I do not have smitten-face!” I hiss.
“Why would you care if you have smitten-face if she was your real fiancée?” Brittney hisses back.
“Smitten-face isn’t even a real word!” I shout, startling the moms in pastel yoga gear who have just come around the corner. They take one look at me, then one look at Brittney in her tight ripped jeans and her I Fucked the Patriarchy and All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt t-shirt. And then they retreat back to the science fair.
I look back at Brittney just in time to see understanding dawn on her face, “Oh hell. It is some weird work thing that you’re doing for reasons that I’m sure make sense in your mixed-up Joshua head. And the problem is you’ve really fallen for her.”
“It’s none of your business,” I say furiously.
“It is my business if it hurts Poppy,” she says, and there’s no sympathy in her voice anymore. This is mamma-bear mode.
“It doesn’t hurt Poppy. I told her the truth,” I think that over. “Well, a child appropriate version of the truth. She knows it’s not real.”
Brittney’s face softens, “But do you?”
“Excuse me?”
Brittney and I both turn to see Sienna standing at the entrance to the courtyard. She looks back and forth between Brittney and me, before addressing Brittney, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Poppy was asking for you.”
Brittney gives me a look that says we’re not done with this conversation, and then she tosses her long blond hair and struts back into the science fair like the pop-star she is.
Sienna watches her go, and then shakes her head, “My life has gotten so weird. I saw her Starlight concert for my 21st birthday. And now she’s mad at me for dating
her ex.”
“She’s not mad. She’s just… concerned.”
“Uh huh. Sure,” she holds out her hand. “Come on. Your daughter wants to tell you all about why your costumes are unrealistic in an apocalypse scenario. Also, you should do a lap of the other kids’ projects because you’ve got some young fans who are trying very hard to play it cool, and it’ll be fun to make their nights.”
“Only if you guard me from the moms,” I say, and she laughs.
I take her hand and let her pull me back into the noisy din, the way she would if this were real. I shove Brittney’s worries aside — and ok, my worries to — and focus on Sienna’s hand in mine, and my whip-smart daughter’s bubbling enthusiasm as she tells me everything she knows.
12
Joshua
I can’t get Brittney’s words out of my head and pretending to be a couple at every event I’m invited to isn’t helping. Every time Darian texts me and Sienna that we have another event — we’ve got a group text going, since Sienna says I don’t give her enough warning to find dresses for these things — I feel like when you’re a kid in school and the teacher assigns you a group project with your crush.
And, fine, after more X-rated dreams than I want to admit to, I’ll say it: I have a crush on Sienna. She’s smart and beautiful and funny and good with my kid. And every time I think I have her pinned down, she does something that surprises me. She says it’s because I don’t hang out with ordinary people, and Darian agrees, but I don’t think that’s it.
There’s nothing ordinary about Sienna.
I mean, sure, technically, on paper, she’s ordinary. I guess. But I can’t get her out of my head. When she casually mentions another client, or something she’s in to, I go home and look them up so I can ask better questions the next time I see her. I light up when she texts me about something, and then crash after we finish the conversation, because I know she’s not going to text me again that day.
