The Setup (Faking It Book 2)

by Lila Kane

  “Thank you for picking me up,” I said quickly.

  He looked at my hand and then back up at my eyes. “You want me to…shake your hand?”

  “Isn’t that how you do business?”

  His lips quirked, but he shook his head. “It’s not just business, it’s a show. One where we act like we’re together. If you were acting, Libby, would you shake your boyfriend’s hand?”

  Absolutely not. Especially not when his eyes were like fire on mine. Not if my boyfriend was looked like a god in his suit. But what else could I do? Kiss him?

  Danger!

  Ben didn’t wait for an answer, he just leaned in and wrapped his arms around me. His breath tickled my ear and made me shiver.

  I immediately thought back to our weekend together. The world had vanished around us and it was only him and me in each other’s arms. He even smelled the same. I was transported so fully, it was hard to remember I was playing a part.

  “Let’s just start right here,” Ben said, the low timbre of his voice vibrating against my ear.

  I swallowed hard, and then ordered myself to act my ass off. I turned my head and then eased away with a laugh, trying to make it look like I was being coy. Flirty. That’s how this would work. I could do that in public easily enough.

  “Save that for later,” I told him, laughter in my voice. Then I hurried to open the door to the limo so I could get inside.

  I swore I heard Ben chuckle, and then he got in behind me, sliding close enough on the seat I could feel the heat of his leg by mine.

  “Just playing the part,” he said with a grin.

  “It’s not necessary. In public, I’ll make sure it all looks real. Otherwise, keep your hands to yourself.”

  He deliberately folded his hands and rested them on his lap but his words said the opposite of his actions. “You smell really good.”

  You do, too.

  But out loud, I said, “Have you talked to the partners about us?”

  In an instant, he was back to business. “Not yet. We have a company dinner this weekend and I figure I’ll introduce you there. Give them the story about how we met and how long we’ve been together—that we just decided to move in together. But in the meantime, I’ll drop hints when I see them. I’ll let them know we’re making plans for the future.”

  A future. One I had, at one point, longed for with every fiber of my being.

  I shifted gears. Not my problem. Ben would handle that end of things.

  And it was just a year. We agreed on that amount of time to make it look reasonable to the partners and the rest of the public. Then we could quickly fake a break-up and go our own ways.

  One year. I’d even marked it in my phone.

  It was perfect, and I had to keep reminding myself how lucky I was to have this opportunity.

  So I sat back in the seat and smiled to myself as we drove to my new home.

  9

  This plan wasn’t working out at all how I thought it would.

  If I’d wanted a roommate, the situation might be perfect. But I’d wanted something different. And I’d thought…I wasn’t sure. Probably that Libby would want to talk to me, engage in a conversation here and there. She’d opened up to me about everything that first weekend together.

  I guess I just thought it would be the same now.

  Yeah right.

  I snorted as I stepped out of the elevator into my penthouse on Thursday night, amused with myself for thinking that Libby and I could play house like a normal couple.

  That it might be easy to work on some kind of relationship—or even just a semblance of what we’d had before. That would have been a great start.

  Instead, it was almost like living with a ghost.

  I couldn’t do that anymore, and it didn’t make sense. We needed to be on the same page when I spoke with the partners at the dinner tomorrow.

  That was it. I could use that reasoning to get her to talk to me.

  So I marched straight down the hall to the bedroom Libby was using. I could take her to dinner and we could talk. Maybe even relax with each other a little.

  It seemed reasonable.

  Until I reached her doorway and saw her at the end of her bed wearing a swimsuit. All the blood drained from my head and went straight to my groin.

  The swimsuit was bright red, a string bikini that left little to the imagination. Every inch of skin was smooth, almost glowing, like she’d recently got a tan. I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over her delicate shoulders, across her breasts, and lower.

  My dick throbbed, growing in my slacks and making me shift in the doorway. I didn’t want her to see me like this, see how clearly I wanted her.

  It might scare her away.

  She turned when I cleared my throat.

  Her gaze locked on mine. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” My voice came out hoarse and I tried again. “What’s going on?”

  “I was going to go downstairs for a swim.”

  Clearly. Either that or she just enjoyed prancing around more than halfway naked just to torture me—which I reminded myself that I’d give her permission to do.

  “Uh…actually, I was hoping we could talk,” I said. “There’s the dinner tomorrow—”

  “I know. She flashed a brief smile at me before walking past, barefoot, and leaving me in the wake of her scent. Like fresh flowers. “I’m prepared, don’t worry. I have a dress and my act down.”

  “Your act?” I asked as I followed her.

  “Yep. Pretend I’m in love with you and all that. I got this.”

  I nearly tripped when she said the word “love,” but I realized immediately that she said it without any warmth. This really was an act for her.

  Libby didn’t have any true feelings for me.

  Shit. Why did that make me want to work even harder to get her to open up to me?

  And damn…I wanted a second chance. I wanted her to see me for the person I had become. Which pissed me off a little because I hadn’t been prepared for this.

  Just because I’d thought about her here and there over the last several months didn’t mean anything. But yet, here I was wanting more.

  I took a calming breath when she walked to the bathroom to get a towel. “Can we talk?”

  “About what?”

  “Us.”

  She turned an amused look in my direction as she walked past me again. “The fake us, you mean.”

  Fake. Pretend. Yes, I got it. And I was starting to hate it. She’d said these things more than once and it was making it hard to believe that we might have a chance at being anything more.

  And damn if I didn’t want to know exactly why she was doing this. She had to have a reason. Some deep, dark secret about why this money mattered so much that she was willing to give up her life to devote to a ruse that she didn’t particularly relish the idea of.

  “Yes,” I told her. “People are going to want to know about us. How we met, how long we’ve been together, all that. We need to be on the same page.”

  She nodded agreeably. “Sure. You can write me up a list so I can memorize it.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave as the doors closed. “Don’t worry. I have a good memory. I won’t embarrass you.”

  Then the doors shut all the way and she was gone.

  Dammit!

  Worse, she was right. Writing a list was probably a good idea. Just words to memorize and we didn’t even have to interact.

  But that’s not what I wanted.

  Muttering to myself, I stalked to my room and yanked a pair of swim trunks out of a drawer in my closet. No way in hell I was just going to let her walk out like that.

  We had an agreement, didn’t we?

  I just wasn’t sure what it all entailed. We really hadn’t even talked about anything more than how long we were going to do this and how much she’d be compensated.

  But being my girlfriend meant more than that, right?

  And we needed to have a conversation about it.

&
nbsp; Even if that conversation happened in the pool.

  Libby was the only one in the pool when I walked into the spacious room. She did laps back and forth and the sounds of splashing echoed on the glass all around us. She looked like a mermaid, long, blonde hair trailing behind her as her lithe body slid through the water. She was beautiful, and longing welled up inside of me.

  Longing for the things I remembered, like her arms and legs wrapping around me as we made love.

  Longing for her.

  As I continued to watch, the reality of the situation hit me hard. This was my chance—my second chance. Not just to reconcile, but to make something new.

  We had an agreement, but that didn’t mean it had to be emotionless.

  And I realized that was exactly what I wanted.

  I wanted Libby.

  But I had to prove to her that I’d changed. And I had to figure out a way to do that without scaring her away.

  I crouched down at the edge of the pool, and when she reached the side and lifted her head for air, she saw me. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a mouthful of water.

  She started coughing, alarming me. “Ben—I—I didn’t see you.”

  She coughed again and I reached down to pat her back but she held up a hand. “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She shook her head, coughing again.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  She shoved her hair off her face. “Yes. I’m good.”

  I dangled my feet in the water. “Mind of I join you?”

  Her gaze narrowed just slightly. “It’s not my pool. Do what you want.”

  Not the warmest welcome but I had to start somewhere. So I took off my t-shirt and tossed it aside. I noticed her watching me out of the corner of my eye but didn’t mention it as I slid into the water.

  “How did you get to be such a good swimmer?” I asked her, wading out to where she was.

  She arched one eyebrow and waded further out. That was enough to remind me that I probably shouldn’t be asking her about personal stuff when she’d no doubt remind me I had the chance to know her in the past. In fact, she’d told me a lot already in that one weekend.

  And here I was acting like I didn’t know her at all.

  But she answered anyway. “I swam in high school and college.”

  I pushed through the water to get closer. Her hair was darker when it was wet but had sunny streaks throughout. I remembered how soft it was when I ran it through my fingers. How her head would tilt back and she’d sigh when I tightened my fingers in those silky strands.

  “This is good,” I told her. “Talking. Hearing details about each other so we can be convincing.”

  She nodded. “Your turn.”

  “Did I swim? No. I played baseball but only in high school. The rowing team was after me in college but I stuck to lawyer stuff.”

  She smirked. “Lawyer stuff.”

  I didn’t miss how her eyes dipped to trace across my chest. Maybe—hopefully—she was thinking that it looked like I was heavy into sports, but it was only because I made going to the gym a priority. That and work.

  Until now.

  “And how did we meet?” she asked.

  I considered this. “A party. Just like real life. But then we both went our separate ways for a bit until…”

  “We reconnected at the coffee shop,” she continued.

  I nodded. “Good. What about your family? Are you close?”

  Her gaze moved away, but I didn’t miss the flash of hurt there first. Oh, fuck. I’d completely forgotten about how she’d lost her mom.

  I’d gotten caught up in this back and forth, playing the game, and I’d completely forgotten that was the whole reason she’d come to live in the city in the first place. Because her mom had passed away and she was following her dreams.

  Libby lay back on the water and floated on the surface, her limbs shiny as they splayed out.

  I used the moment to move closer while I tried to figure out a way to take back what I’d said. Or to make it better. Was it my destiny to hurt Libby? I couldn’t seem to stop even when I was trying to.

  A drop of water slid down her cheek and I reached out to brush it away. Her lips pursed but she continued to float.

  “We’re the only ones here,” she said.

  “I know.”

  She righted herself again and angled her head. “That means we don’t have to pretend. It’s just us.” She looked away. “And we both know the truth.”

  It fell silent around us while that truth bombarded me from all sides. The truth was that she hated me.

  “Libby,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. Really.”

  “I already told you I forgive you.”

  She walked the other way in the water. I followed.

  “No, you said you accept my apology. Not the same.”

  “Well, then, I forgive you.”

  I stopped behind her. “What’s it going to take for you to mean it?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting mine as she sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Then she started floating in the water again, ending our conversation permanently.

  I didn’t try to talk to her anymore. It would only make the situation worse.

  No, I had to figure out a new plan. I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I had a whole barrel full of ideas and a whole year to make one of them work.

  10

  All right. So I might have been a little cocky when I was packing and telling Stacy how easy this whole fake boyfriend thing was going to be.

  Not just because I hadn’t expected Ben to actually want me to talk to him. But also because I’d figured my measly wardrobe of sundresses and jeans was going to suffice.

  I eyed the dresses I’d set on the bed. I was supposed to go to a function for Ben’s work tonight and somehow I didn’t think a flowery dress that skimmed my knees was going to impress Baker, Browning, and Dupont. This dinner was supposed to be black tie, not Sunday brunch, which I’d just discovered yesterday.

  Damn. I guess I wasn’t entirely cut out for the life of penthouse girlfriend, with limos and galas and fancy lawyer meetings.

  I mean, I worked in a community center for my day job. I had dust on my jeans from crawling on the floor to set up props for our acting class today.

  Stacy. I could call her. She had a way bigger wardrobe than I did. Odds were she’d have something—even if it was a simple little black dress. I’d take what I could get.

  “Maybe this will work,” a voice said behind me.

  I whipped around. Ben stood in the doorway holding an elegant red dress that took my breath away. He was already dressed in a raven black tuxedo, and the gown was the perfect match.

  My throat dried. He looked good—no great—and he wasn’t even wearing that cocky grin I’d grown accustomed to.

  No, after we’d talked in the pool yesterday, he’d been quieter. More subdued.

  And God, he’d even apologized. He’d seemed so sincere, I’d almost given in.

  Even more, I’d almost moved to him, to let his arms come around me and take away the pain of what he’d done.

  But that would mean losing myself and the whole reason I was here. That would mean opening myself up to hurt again, and that just wouldn’t do.

  “Thank you,” I said lightly, plucking the gown from his hand. “I’ll try it on.”

  When he didn’t move, I walked to the bathroom and shut the door. What? Did he want a show? Having Ben’s eyes on me still made me nervous. He saw too much.

  I tugged off my jeans and tossed my t-shirt onto the floor. When I pulled the straps of the dress over my shoulders, I sighed. It fit like a glove. A very tight glove, sure, but one that was made just for me.

  Trust Ben to find something that fit me and suited me to a tee. Like I said, he saw too much.

  But then, he did know my body more intimately than most people. He’d taken his time kissing and touching every dip and valley, eve
ry curve and swell.

  I released a shaky breath. Now, that wasn’t what I should be thinking at all. Thoughts like that were only going to make it harder to remember that Ben was just a business acquaintance now and nothing more.

  When I exited the bathroom, he stood in the exact same spot I’d left him. But when he saw me, he didn’t say a word. In fact, it looked he was too stunned to say anything.

  His lips parted and his gaze locked on me.

  I couldn’t help the quick rush of pleasure, followed by the knowledge that I’d wowed him speechless. I wasn’t going to fall for Ben Davis again, but if he lost his mind over me, I couldn’t care less.

  I’d take the minor victories.

  “Uh…you look great,” Ben said. Then he seemed to recover some and took a step toward me. “Stunning.”

  That simple word, along with the appreciation of his gaze, made my heart beat faster.

  Stay cool. Play the part.

  “Thanks,” I said, flashing him a devilish smile. “It fits better than I expected. You clean up well, too.”

  He glanced down with a smile, then reached out to catch my hand as I passed. I was too startled to react, especially when he brought my fingers to his lips and kissed each one. The whisper of his breath made me shiver.

  What the hell was he doing?

  “Thank you,” he murmured, eyelids heavy. “For doing all this.”

  Determined not to let him ruffle me, I pulled my hand from his and gave a short nod. “Of course. We have an arrangement, right? Just part of the job.”

  He didn’t answer, and I didn’t wait for him to. I was playing a part, and I needed to be focused on that. Which meant getting to the party.

  We didn’t need to say anything else to each other while we were in the apartment.

  I finished getting ready alone and after I’d wasted another hour, carefully hidden from Ben in the bathroom, I met him at the elevator.

  We stepped inside, both silent. I leaned my shoulder against the wall, as far from him as I could stand. Despite that, I could still smell him. Just the simple scent of what smelled like ocean waves brought back a flood of memories.

  Of his fingers tracing their way down my shoulder, over my hip, and pausing on my thigh as we lay together in bed at the B&B. Of him pressing his lips to my jaw and letting them whisper against my ear.