by Rachel Lacey
“Just out of curiosity, how did you get to this point in the first place? I mean, I know you were worried about another woman selling stories to the tabloids, but going without sex for an entire year seems like a drastic response.”
He stared at her for a long moment in silence, his stormy gaze roiling with all kinds of things she couldn’t read.
She looked away. “I’m sorry. That was a really personal question.”
“But a fair one,” he said finally. “And as my wife, I suppose you’re entitled to an answer.”
His wife. The word still hit her like an electric prod to the ribs every single time.
“The first thing you should know about me is that I’m not a relationship man.”
“As your wife, I must say that comes as a shock.” She raised her eyebrows for effect. Zing. Who knew the word “wife” could be so hot?
He laughed without humor. “My parents go through spouses like most people do cars, trading one in for a newer model whenever it suits their fancy. I guess you could say it soured me to the idea of marriage.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
“I love women, and I love sex. I have gorgeous women throwing themselves at me everywhere I turn. It seemed like a win-win, and it was for a long time. Then after that headline, they all just wanted to fuck me to find out if the rumors about my dick were true. I could see the dollar signs in their eyes.”
“Not every woman is like that, Cole.”
He shook his head. “But the ones looking for a quick fuck with their favorite rock star are, or at least enough of them are that I don’t know which ones to trust.”
“Jesus Christ, then date someone other than groupies,” she said, unable to keep the frustration out of her tone.
“They’re the only women I meet. Can’t exactly fill out an online dating profile now, can I? I don’t have time to go out and socialize, and most of those women are looking for at least the potential of a long-term relationship, which is something I just can’t promise. Anyway, I never meant to go this long. It just happened, and it sure as hell hasn’t been a fun time for me.”
She watched him for a moment in silence. There was a whole lot more to Colton Nix than met the eye. Sure, that woman a year ago had screwed him over, but not many men would have reacted the way he had. He seemed to be a caring, considerate man, probably more so than he realized. He wanted more than casual sex, but he didn’t want to settle down, and now he found himself caught in a funny place in the middle. Rather than jerk women around, he’d retreated from the dating scene all together.
“Anyway, I’m willing to go another six months without sex if you are,” he said, looking her in the eye, his brown eyes earnest. “So what do you say, do we have ourselves a deal?”
And she must have been doomed to make stupid decisions around this man, because she heard herself answering, “Yes.”
* * *
Cole tugged at his baseball cap as he followed Jenn through the throng of people in Bryant Park. They’d waited until it was mostly dark to arrive so that he could go unnoticed, and consequently, Jenn was alternatingly texting with her friends as they walked and holding up her cell phone as a flashlight to illuminate their way. Up ahead, someone waved a cell phone in the air at them, and she turned toward them.
He stepped closer, sliding his hand in hers. If they were going to pose as newlyweds, they couldn’t be afraid of touching each other. She gave him a sharp look over her shoulder, relaxing into a smile as they reached her friends. There was a chorus of “hellos” and curious faces looking up at them from the cluster of people gathered on blankets in front of them.
“Hi, guys. Sorry we’re late.” Jenn spread out the blue-and-green-checked blanket she’d brought and sat on it, tugging him down beside her.
A black woman with wildly curly hair leaned over, eyeing him with unabashed curiosity. “Holy shit, you really are Colton Nix.”
“I really am,” he answered with a smile. “And you are?”
“Farrah Case.”
“Nice to meet you, Farrah.”
Then the whole group was crowded around their blanket, making hushed introductions in the dark. Jenn’s friends were friendly and enthusiastic if skeptical of the fact that their straitlaced friend had somehow gone to the Bahamas for work and come home married to a rock star. He saw plenty of whispered conversations between them, during which Jenn always smiled and shook her head, her gaze darting to his. He could only guess what they were asking.
“So, you and Jenn, huh?” one of the guys asked—Alex, if he remembered right, but he was god-awful with names.
“Yeah.” He smiled at his bride, currently sitting on the other side of the blanket between Farrah and Lucy.
“And we’re supposed to believe that Jenn, who has a spreadsheet a mile long for any man she even considers dating, somehow met and married you in less than a week?”
He lifted one shoulder with a half smile. “Well, it’s true. I get that she’s normally a planner, but what can I say? Something just clicked between us when we met.” Also true. “There may have been alcohol involved in the decision to tie the knot that night, but neither of us has any regrets about it.” Lie.
“Hmm.” Alex gave him a skeptical look. “Well, it’s completely out of character for the Jenn we know and love, but we support her no matter what, so if you guys are happy, then we’re happy for you.” And with that, he stuck out his hand.
As Cole took it and shook, a funny feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. This was…weird. When he’d suggested they stay married, he’d envisioned putting on a show for the paparazzi, but he hadn’t thought through all the real-life moments that would come with it, like getting to know—and lying to—her friends.
At that moment, the stage lights brightened, and the show began. Cole wasn’t a big fan of Shakespeare and hadn’t seen Romeo and Juliet since he’d been required to watch it back in high school, but he wasn’t sorry about being here tonight with Jenn. Besides, it was refreshing to be in the audience for a change instead of up there on the stage.
Jenn scooted closer, and he tucked her against him, her head against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world, and oddly enough, it was. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. To be honest, he only halfway paid attention to the production up onstage. His full attention was on the woman in his arms. Jenn was completely engrossed in the play, gasping and laughing in all the right places. As the hour grew later, he stretched out flat on the blanket with Jenn snuggled in against him. She smelled sweet like candy, with just a hint of something flowery, like sugar-coated roses.
All around them, he heard the murmur of voices and the sounds of other couples making out. Jenn’s friend Ezra and his date were going at it on a nearby blanket. She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling with the reflection of the stage lights.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear, half-mad with the need to kiss her properly. “We need to look convincingly like newlyweds, right?”
“Mm-hmm.” She turned her face so that her lips met his.
Fuck yeah. He slid his fingers through her silky hair, anchoring her face to his as their lips met. She tasted like she smelled—like she’d been dipped in sugar. His lips pressed against hers, moving, seeking, absorbing the warmth of her skin and the whisper of her breath. She sighed as her lips parted, her tongue skimming against his.
He rolled onto his side, his free arm around her as they kissed, touching and laughing on their blanket, like an island in the sea of people around them. It was so dark and so crowded that no one was paying them a bit of attention, but way too public to do anything more than kiss. So they made out like a couple of teenagers while Romeo and Juliet did their thing up onstage.
When it was over, as everyone around them packed up their things and headed out of the park, she gave him a shy smile, her lips glistening in the darkness. “Didn’t exactly see much of the play, but I had a good time anyway.”
“I enjoye
d our production a hell of a lot more than theirs.” He slid his hand into hers. They said goodbye to her friends and headed toward 40th Street, where his car waited. Earlier, they’d stopped by Jenn’s apartment so that she could pack an overnight bag. She had reluctantly agreed to move into his place for the duration of their marriage for appearance’s sake, but she had insisted on staying in the guest room.
After an evening spent kissing her, though, he was hoping she might change her mind by the time they got home, because he was aching in the very best way. She was quiet during the drive, arms crossed over her chest, staring out the window. He didn’t have to be an expert in body language to know that wasn’t a good sign.
His driver, Steven, pulled the car up behind his town house, and they got out. Jenn slung her duffel bag across her shoulders. He carried their picnic blanket and the rest of the stuff they’d brought with them to Bryant Park. He led the way to the back door and disabled the alarm, motioning her in ahead of him.
Jenn walked into the darkened living room, dropped her bag beside the couch, and turned to face him. “This is awkward.”
“Doesn’t feel that way to me,” he said, although it damn well should. Having Jennifer MacDonald—his wife—here in his living room ought to be awkward as hell.
“This is no big deal to you, huh?” She stalked toward him, chin up and eyes blazing. “I’m just the latest in the parade of women who’ve come through your door. How many have been here before me, Cole? Dozens? Hundreds?”
“None.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as the awkwardness she’d initiated descended over him.
Her eyes rounded at his admission. “Um…”
“I mean, of course other women have been in this house—friends and colleagues, Jorja, my mother, but I’ve never had a woman here in my bed.”
“Well, that’s…weird.”
“Not really. You think I want the kind of woman who’d sell me out to the tabloids knowing where I live?”
“Then where do you take them?”
“Hotels, mostly.”
“Honestly, Cole.” She spun and walked toward the kitchen. “You need to up your dating standards a bit if you can’t even trust a woman enough to bring her to your house before you sleep with her.”
Truth. “I brought you here, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but we’re not dating.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, picked up her duffel bag, and headed down the hall toward the guest room. “And I’m not sleeping in your bed either.”
6
What am I doing?
Jenn snuggled more deeply under the burgundy spread on Cole’s guest bed. How was she supposed to spend six months pretending to be his loving wife when he was about as far from her idea of a husband as a man could get? Why had she agreed to any of this? And why had she spent the last ten minutes reliving every moment of their make-out session last night in Bryant Park?
Groaning, she sat up and pulled on her worn UCLA sweatshirt for modesty before leaving her room. Her gaze fell on the window and the sunny tree-lined street outside. Cole lived in the West Village, a neighborhood she didn’t know well as the homes here were well out of her—and her friends’—price range.
Unless she had to be at work super early, Jenn started pretty much every morning by walking down to the Cup and Cupboard, the coffee shop a few blocks from her apartment. But she was a wanderer at heart, and the prospect of exploring Cole’s neighborhood to find a new, albeit temporary, coffee shop wasn’t unappealing. Actually, she welcomed it. Hopefully, he wasn’t even up yet, and she could head out alone to do a little exploring in her search for caffeine.
Her gaze settled on two men lurking on the other side of the street. She knew them all too well as she’d often seen them camped outside Kate’s building on Central Park West. They were paparazzi, and for the first time in her life, they were here to get a glimpse of her. Colton Nix’s new bride. Her stomach dropped. No matter how heavy the paparazzi presence around Kate, Jenn had always been able to slip through unnoticed.
This was her new reality, though, for however long the fascination over her marriage lasted. She would just have to roll with it, whether that meant sneaking out the back or letting them get a shot of her heading out on her morning coffee mission.
Resigned, she went across the hall to the bathroom to freshen up and then headed for the kitchen. To her enormous surprise, she found Cole sitting in the living room, sipping from an insulated cup as a sports newscast played on the big screen TV. He wore a slightly rumpled Knicks T-shirt and athletic shorts, his hair disheveled as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
He glanced in her direction and flashed a bright smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” She felt off-balance here in his house, and it wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. Not at all.
“Feel free to toss it if it’s not what you wanted, but I ordered you a latte and poppy seed bagel.” He gestured toward another insulated cup and a bakery bag on the coffee table. “It’s what you had yesterday when you came over.”
She gawked at him, dumbstruck at this unexpectedly thoughtful—and observant—gesture. “I…well…thank you.”
“Welcome.” He gave her an amused smile, his eyes flicking to hers before returning to his sports show.
She sat in the oversized chair beside the couch and picked up her latte, inhaling its intoxicating scent. So much for her morning coffee expedition, but this wasn’t a bad turn of events either. She sipped. Yum. Maybe even better than the lattes from Cup and Cupboard. “I see a few familiar faces camped outside.”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “I guess you know them almost as well as I do, don’t you?”
“George Marks and Lamar Otis. They’re not bad guys, although George can be kind of a perv sometimes.”
Cole laughed. “I haven’t experienced it, but I don’t doubt it. It’s…well, it’s new for me, being with someone who knows the industry as well as you do.”
“I know it, but this is the first time I’ve had the lens pointed in my direction.” She took another fortifying sip of her latte and reached for her bagel.
“Not much fun, is it?” he asked, his eyes on the TV.
“I never thought it would be. You and Kate love it, or love to hate it anyway, but I’ve never wanted my face in a magazine.”
“But you do want your songs on the radio,” he commented.
She bit into her bagel, unnerved by how well he understood her when he shouldn’t know her at all. “Sung by someone else.”
“Like me?” He turned his piercing gaze in her direction, and she choked.
But yeah, okay, since meeting him last week in the Bahamas, she’d imagined his raspy voice singing something she’d written. Maybe she’d even toyed with the idea of writing a song especially with him in mind. “Not you, necessarily.”
“Do you listen to my music?” The question was casual, but she sensed an underlying current between them. She was intensely aware that they were sitting in his living room together first thing in the morning, drinking coffee in their pajamas. Of the fact that Cole was her husband.
“I have your songs in my library, yes, along with thousands of others.” She was being purposely vague, and she knew it.
He gave her an amused look. “Way to stroke my ego.”
“I don’t think it’s your ego that needs stroking.” That sure as hell got his attention, and honestly, it was all she could do not to slap her hand over her mouth in horror. Talk about a complete disconnect between her brain and her mouth! Cole’s whole body tensed, and his gaze lasered onto her with an intensity that made her sizzle from the inside out.
After a moment, though, he leaned back on the couch and gave her a lazy smile. “Nope. All good there, although I must admit it was a little weird to jerk off while my wife slept downstairs.”
Now it was her turn to tense. The mental image of Cole masturbating upstairs while she slept—and did he think of me while he was at it?—had a very strange eff
ect on her. She ought to have been offended at the rather crass way he’d just shared that information, but instead, she was turned on…so turned on that she had to cross her legs against the ache throbbing between them. “TMI, Cole.”
He shrugged. “You brought it up.”
She ducked her head in embarrassment. “So, um, what are you up to today?”
“Don’t know yet, although I do need to get a workout in. Maybe you and I ought to spend some time getting to know each other, don’t you think?”
“I do, actually.” She stuffed the last bite of her bagel into her mouth. They’d been asked a lot of awkward and personal questions last night while they hung out with her friends. If they were going to play the part of newlyweds convincingly, they needed to know a lot more about each other. “Kate’s in the Bahamas for a few more days, so I’m pretty much free until she gets back.”
“What do you say we spend the day together, then?” he suggested. “Let’s get out of the city and go somewhere we can just hang out.”
“I like the sound of that. Any suggestions?”
“Fire Island, maybe?”
“We’d have to take a boat to get there, though.” And honestly, she’d had enough of boats and islands for a while after Luca Cay. “What about Cornwall?”
“Kind of stuffy, but it could be fun.”
“We could see the sights, rent a kayak, and there are loads of good places to eat.”
He nodded. “Sold. Let’s do it.”
Two hours later—after a workout and showers—they were in his car and on the way to Cornwall. Cole drove about how she expected—hard and fast—and even if he’d grumbled about her asking him to keep the top on his Tesla convertible, he was still grinning as they whizzed down the highway. It was a gorgeous April day, bright and sunny, and he talked nonstop during the drive. The truth was, he wasn’t half-bad company, and she wasn’t even dreading having to spend the whole day with him.
