Tempting Her Fake Fiance

by Julie Particka

  For the first time, he tensed up. “Family. I’ve been away a lot, and I’m starting to regret how much I haven’t been around. It’s also part of the ‘go big’ thing. My family’s had some struggles this year, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is taken care of. Oldest son and all that.”

  He took a slow drink of water, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. “If you don’t have any more questions about the movie, I think we’ve covered everything except my personal life. You still have about ten minutes. Want to ask about the trail of broken hearts I left behind? Or who I’m taking to the premiere at the end of the week?”

  His tone was light and teasing, but the questions made the worry that had been hovering snap into place. The premiere. The couple dozen journalists here for the press junket had been invited to attend. The film itself wouldn’t be a big deal, but Paul would have Lissa at the after party, and Stasia would be alone. It didn’t matter that his new relationship wouldn’t last, that eventually Lissa would be tossed away like a broken toy as soon as she’d served her purpose—Stasia was lonely now. She was alone because of his betrayal. And—moving on or not—she was still angry. For all her denials, for all the bullshit she’d put up with over the years, the idea of having to watch him lavish affection on the other woman all night long, probably while Lissa was wearing the damned earrings she’d loved…

  She hadn’t noticed the tears welling in her eyes until the first one fell. Like it had opened a floodgate, others followed, faster and heavier. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to find words that would get her out of the situation—give her a minute to at least collect herself before she had to walk back into the press room where her ex would be standing around, hobnobbing and fondling his new girlfriend.

  God! The last thing I want is for them to see me like this.

  Paul was the one who let his emotions—usually anger and jealousy—get the better of him. She’d been the one who held things together, but she couldn’t stop the sob that escaped when she finally managed to choke in a breath of air.

  Her first big interview since the divorce, and she was having a breakdown in front of a movie star. Never in a million years had she expected to have all her pent-up emotions come raining down on her like this. To think, just a few moments ago, she’d been thinking wicked, dirty thoughts about him. She was glad she couldn’t see through her tears. On top of everything else, she didn’t need Evan Stone’s pity or disgust stamped on her memory.

  Jumping him might have been the better option, after all.

  Maybe, if she were lucky, he’d just get up and walk away.

  …

  Oh fuck. What the hell did I say?

  Evan glanced from Stasia’s trembling shoulders to Jason, the cameraman, who rolled his eyes. Very helpful. “You.” He pointed at Jason. “Shut off that thing and get out.”

  The guy clicked off the camera and flipped him the bird. Evan would probably get an earful from his manager later, but he was willing to lay odds Stasia, who hadn’t wanted the camera in the first place, didn’t want a record of this shit.

  As soon as the door was shut, Evan knelt in front of Stasia, brushing her too long bangs back and tucking them behind her ear. Up close like this, his first impression of her was confirmed; she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Why she buried herself in heavy, over-sized clothes he couldn’t fathom, but she was absolutely stunning, and he had to hold himself back before he gathered her in his arms and started kissing away the tears.

  Looking at her right now, he knew where that would lead, and—no matter how much he’d enjoy it, or how many times he’d thought about it since she’d walked through the door—he’d be in a whole new sort of trouble if he gave into the urge. Stasia had flawless skin and the sort of deep-brown eyes he could get lost in for days. And her hands—she had the slender fingers of a concert pianist but with longer nails. Nails he could already feel clawing against his back. Words. He needed words, not thoughts of sex. “It’s okay. It’s just us. Take as long as you need.”

  She laughed, and the sound came out choked and a bit manic. “Great. Just let me have the room for the next year or so, and I should be good.”

  In an effort to deflect both his own primal urges and her sorrow, he said, “Not PMS then?” He raised a hand between them when she glared. “Now, that’s more like it. Just don’t hit me for getting you to mad instead of sad. Easier to talk to angry.”

  Once he was confident she wouldn’t swing, he poured her a glass of water and handed it over, allowing his touch to linger against hers more than necessary. He thought about holding her hand, trailing kisses down the length of her arm to that spot on her wrist, and then taking one of those pianist’s fingers into his mouth and sucking on it.

  He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at her hands. “So, what’s going on? Normally, people jump at the chance to skewer my personal life. I have to admit; this is a new reaction.”

  Stasia sniffled, and he dragged a box of tissues over, holding them out to her. She grabbed one and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s stupid,” she said, finally responding to the question about poking at his love life. When he didn’t comment on that, she blew her nose gently. Another ten seconds passed before she sighed. “My divorce was final three months ago, and this week is the first time I’ve had to see my ex. And he oh-so-thoughtfully brought the home-wrecker with him.”

  Evan froze, hearing his sister Vicky’s voice over the phone last year when he’d been in New Zealand on location.

  “When I caught him…he didn’t even try to explain it. Just said we were done. He stopped loving me, and I never saw it. How could I not notice him falling out of love with me, Ev?”

  Half a world away and there was nothing he’d been able to do for Vicky as the sound of her sob broke his heart into pieces. He couldn’t hold her hand or hug her or beat the shit out of her asshole ex—not without breaking his contract and destroying what was left of his career. Vicky had told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to stay in New Zealand—with her moving back home, jobless, the family needed his income more than ever—but it had killed him every phone call when he heard the pain in her voice.

  By the time he was back in the States, Vicky had progressed from the agonizing pain to a vague semblance of life. But she wasn’t the bright and bubbly sister he’d grown up with, and he feared she never would be again.

  Stasia though… She was still angry and hurt. Maybe there was a way he could help her, and if he could assuage some of his guilt over leaving Vicky to deal with things on her own, all the better.

  “Who is he? Maybe I can get him gone before…”

  Another strangled laugh barked from her throat. “Unlikely. Paul Travers, your master of ceremonies, is my ex. I helped him apply for the stupid job, and your studio loved him.”

  Fuck. He hated Travers with a passion. The asshole had been one of the vultures circling every time someone came forward with a scandalous tidbit about Evan’s love life. She was right, though, there was no way in hell he could get rid of the guy. The studio’s attitude had been that Travers’s presence would keep Evan in line.

  It didn’t matter a bit that he’d been in line since Vicky’s divorce. That phone call had been a major wake-up call for him. He’d backed away from sex completely in order to get his head on straight after he realized the way he ran through women could destroy lives in addition to his career. But, when real stories dried up, the tabloids had just made up their own. Apparently, there was no shortage of women willing to pretend they were involved with him. The rumors had just started to die down a couple months ago, and his publicist thought after the premiere was the perfect time to arrange a new girlfriend. Semi-serious in order to prove he hadn’t returned to form, but not serious enough to take him off the market. The studio had agreed. They believed if he could ditch the manwhore, but bring back the bad boy, it would help drive ticket sales.

  He’d agreed without voicing an opinion, without carin
g. If it was all business, none of it really mattered, and no one would get hurt.

  Evan frowned as the germ of an idea began forming in his head. Maybe he couldn’t use his celebrity status to directly change Stasia’s situation, but there were other ways—ones that would not only help her, but his career as well. And he’d get to spend extra time with the beauty in front of him, have every excuse to touch her, kiss her, maybe move beyond kissing—which was more appealing than he wanted to admit. Granted, he wouldn’t have time to get approval from anyone, but if a relationship after the premiere would be good, one during should be even better, especially if he came out of it as the broken-hearted one. “No more tears, Stasia. We’re going to fix this.”

  This time when she laughed, the sound came out slightly amused rather than sarcastic. “And how do you plan to manage that? I know all about the various types of training you’ve done for your movies, but did you recently add magician to your list of skills?”

  “Maybe not, but I have some talents that might come in handy. Tell me this much—you can’t change the past but, moving forward, how do you want to deal with Paul?”

  “Besides encouraging him to take a long walk off a short pier?” She sniffled and wiped at her nose with another tissue.

  “Yes, preferably nothing illegal. Are you still in love with him?”

  “God, no. I think love had taken a hike long before Lissa ever showed up on the scene.”

  Good. The last thing he wanted was to help her get back with a guy like Travers. “In that case, what would give you a little bit of closure?”

  Dark brows drew together over her bloodshot eyes. “You’re serious.”

  “As a Scorsese movie.”

  She met his gaze, unblinking, like she was searching for a lie there. Damn. How much had that bastard Travers hurt her to make her this guarded? Then she blew out a breath like she was trying to exorcise those very demons with it. “When Paul announced he was leaving me, it was public—in front of more of our ‘friends’ in the media than I care to count. He humiliated me, and I didn’t even get a chance to demand an explanation. What I want? What I’d really like?” She set her jaw and nodded, as if solidifying the choice. “I want to make him fall back in love with me so I can walk away from him. My terms. If it embarrasses him, all the better. Think you’ve got enough Hollywood magic up your sleeves for that?”

  Simple jealousy would have been easier but, looking at Stasia, Evan had no doubt the green-eyed monster would drive Travers to her arms again. He honestly couldn’t fathom the idea of a man who’d be willing to leave her in the first place. “No, but I’m an actor who is badly in need of someone to help convince America I’m not a womanizing pig. You need someone to help grab Paul’s attention and make him see you for the woman he fell in love with again.”

  “So, you’re saying you’re not a womanizing pig?”

  Good. Focusing on this was clearing the hurt from her eyes already. Granted, suspicion was taking its place, but he could deal with that. Not to mention, it’d be nice to spend some time with a woman who wasn’t trying to use his fame to garner some of her own, especially one as stunning as Stasia. She’d still be using his notoriety to a degree, but only because he was offering it to her—totally different than most of the women in his past. “Not anymore. So, are you game?”

  “For what?” She waved a hand toward the press room. “I’m a complete mess. He’s outside with his girlfriend. I can’t even sneak out of here without being seen and, other than saying you have a plan, you haven’t told me any of it.”

  Straightening, Evan propped himself up on one foot and cupped Stasia’s face in his hands. He wanted to kiss her so badly he could already taste her on his lips. Before this week was over, he was going to make sure that haunted look was out of her eyes for good, and he was going to start by making her see just how gorgeous she was—and getting that kiss, if nothing else. Please, let there be something else… “I just met you—”

  “So help me, if you start singing ‘Call Me Maybe’, I will scream.”

  Evan chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll save the singing for later. Let’s try again. You need me. I need you. And I think we would be amazing together.” A girlfriend would be gold, but from what he knew of Travers, she’d need something stronger—and this might be his platinum ticket back into the press’s good graces. “Stasia Grant, will you pretend to be engaged to me?”

  She blinked so slowly it was as if time stood still and, when her eyes opened again, they were wide and bright. With her prominent cheekbones and full lips, she was impossibly beautiful, even with her eyes red and puffy. “What?”

  “Out of favor or not, I’m still a movie star. And one sure way to make a man realize what he’s lost is to show him that someone else wants it.”

  “No one would believe that. You’re the kind of guy women throw their panties at, and I’m…me.” Her hand fluttered up to her ponytail, and he caught it, dragging it back to her lap, where he twined his fingers in hers.

  “You are beautiful. When we’re done, you’re going to be the woman I see lurking under this surface of sadness. The one he’ll regret ever letting get away. Trust me, you’re absolutely gorgeous already. In exchange, I get some respectability. When you leave me to pretend to go back to him, I become the jilted lover, and the fans will feel like I’ve gotten my just desserts. It’s win-win.”

  “But engaged?”

  Yeah. His publicist probably wouldn’t like that part—bad boy was the goal, not settling down—but when the break-up happened, it would make him look more like he’d gotten his comeuppance. Ultimately, it would work better for him, too. “We have a week. If we’re just dating for a week, I still come out looking like an ass at the end. Not to mention, Travers won’t see that as you moving on. He’ll see it as a fling and, because of me and my reputation, a stupid one at that. The only way this works is if people think it’s serious.”

  “I don’t know…” She cast a glance toward the door and bit her lip, like somehow if she wished it hard enough Travers would waltz into the room and proclaim his undying love right then.

  Evan squeezed her fingers until she turned back to him. Her lips beckoned him closer, and it was all he could do to not kiss her right then and there. Later. He could wait, but she needed to make a decision soon. Her interview slot was over. The other reporters would start getting antsy if they were forced to wait much longer. “And I promise to show you a fantastic time this week. Whatever you want. Sky’s the limit.”

  A high-pitched giggle came from the pressroom, and Stasia’s entire body went stiff. Shutting her eyes, she blew out another slow breath. Then she licked her full, rosy lips, and he stifled a groan. “Okay. I’m in. Just tell me what to do.”

  If Evan had his way, before the week was out, she was going to become a woman who would never let another man break her the way Travers obviously had. He’d give her the new start he wished he could have helped Vicky find. And, hopefully, they’d get to enjoy their time together along the way. It would be fun…for them both.

  Chapter Two

  With assurances that he’d finish the interview with her before the night was over, Evan had propped Stasia in her chair and had his makeup artist go to work on her face. At first, Stasia had balked, but he promised they were just getting rid of the tear streaks and redness.

  When he lifted the mirror, she blinked. Gone were the puffy, bloodshot eyes she’d been sure would give her away. Instead, the artist had made her up so subtly that it looked as if she weren’t wearing anything—no one who hadn’t been in the room to see her breakdown would know she hadn’t walked in like this. And whatever the woman had done to her ponytail… Well, she was free to do Stasia’s hair any day of the week. Instead of limp and droopy from the heat, her hair was now fluffed and bouncy.

  “You’re a miracle worker.” She pushed the mirror away, shaking her head, only to find the makeup artist gone.

  Evan took the compliment in her stead. “Nah. She j
ust made what was already there a little more obvious.” He winked, and the kindness he’d shown warmed Stasia to her toes, even if she knew deep down his plan was seriously flawed.

  Temporary improvement or not, she wasn’t movie-star-wife material. Hell, she didn’t even know when or how she was supposed to meet up with him later. Was she just supposed to ask for his hotel key or something? No way. She wasn’t that bold, hadn’t been for a long time. Standing, she hefted her purse and tucked her notebook inside it. “So, do you want to exchange numbers so you can call me when you’re done with the rest of your interviews?”

  Please say yes, because fake-fiancée or not, I’d really like a chance to get a little closer to your muscles and maybe see what that grin of yours tastes like. In fact, a good-bye kiss would go a long way to making me feel awesome about the world.

  He tilted his head and frowned. “Did you have something else going on this afternoon?”

  “No…” Other than maybe trying to work through this sexual frustration back in my hotel room.

  “Then you’re staying right here. I’m not letting my new woman out of my sight.” He opened the door the cameraman had exited through. “Hey, Jason, can you bring in another chair? We’re ready to go again.”

  “You want me to stay?” As much as it thrilled her to be near him, was it even ethical for her to sit in on all the interviews? It would be different if she’d been invited by the other members of the press, but Evan was basically throwing her at them. Jason carried in another chair and set it right next to Evan’s. They matched, as if this had been planned all along. The thought was stupid, but it meant any other reporters coming into the room wouldn’t know they’d pulled in her seat at the last minute.

  As the cameraman returned to his spot, Evan took her hand and led her to the new chair, kneeling in front of her again when she sank into the cushion. “If anyone is uncomfortable with you being here, I’ll ask you to step out, but we may as well make this very public right away. We’re kind of working on a time schedule if you want him to come crawling back by the premiere at the end of the week.”