Tempting Her Fake Fiance

by Julie Particka

  And when he drew back, she caught the camera flash and remembered it was a lie.

  Whether or not she was paying him, he was an actor playing a role. Nothing more, nothing less. No matter how it had felt a few seconds ago. It didn’t lessen her desire, but it did have the helpful, if disappointing, result of tempering it with reality.

  Evan led her from the midway with his hand possessively against the small of her back, and it was all she could do not to lean into him. To forget for one blissful minute what had led them here. To let herself believe in the lie.

  Because if that kiss was any indication at all, Evan Stone was a much better actor than anyone had ever given him credit for. Too bad there weren’t Oscars for this type of thing. He would have had shelves full of them. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched, and when his fingers traced her jaw, she turned toward them without a thought. Their eyes met and, for a second, she was sure he was going to kiss her again.

  Not real. Not real. Not real.

  I don’t care.

  “What first? Adrenaline or quiet?”

  Sex?

  Rides. He wanted to know about rides. Something she could hold on to for a minute while she collected herself—other than him, which wouldn’t give her any clarity at all. The choice was easy—whatever would give her an excuse for her racing heart. Sex would do that. She forcefully shook off the repeating thought. “The biggest coaster they have.”

  “I knew you were a girl after my own heart.” Evan grinned, and another bit of the wall she’d tried to build since Paul had left her crumbled.

  Not. Real.

  At least she only needed to make it through the next few hours. Once she was in her room, she’d have all night to fortify her defenses and put her emotions in their proper, secured locations. If he could do this, surely she could play along without falling prey to his charm.

  Sure, Stasia, because that’s worked so well for the women in his past.

  But she wasn’t like them. She was just a reporter for a city newspaper whose subscribers numbered less than those for her blog. And she knew exactly what she was getting into, even if she did have to keep reminding herself.

  With most families off to early dinners, she and Evan were on the Canyon Blaster in minutes. Once he had the restraint over his shoulder, he took her hand again. When she cast a questioning glance his way, he laughed. “You said it had been a few years since you hit a park. Thought you might want something to hold on to. My mistake.”

  He let go, and the loss hit her much harder than it had any right to. It was as if their faux relationship was the real deal and she’d driven him off already. As the car lurched up the first hill, she searched frantically for his hand, crushing it in a death grip as soon as she found his fingers. “No. You were right.”

  “Stasia?” His voice held so much worry. She opened her mouth to try to explain, but then the car dropped over the top of the hill and her response was lost to the air.

  The wind from the ride tore her hair free and rattled her body inside the harness. What would she have said, anyway? That she was terrified she’d never have anyone who wanted to hold her hand again? That even though what they had was an illusion, it felt real, and she craved it? That she wanted to feel precious to someone again?

  When the ride jerked to a stop, Evan helped her from the car. “You want to slow down for a bit now?”

  “No.” She shook her head, the movement almost matching that of the rest of her body. “How about the other coaster?”

  “You sure? You seemed like you wanted to talk up there…”

  Holding her breath for a second to still her trembling, Stasia wrapped her fingers in his. The urge to touch him was so strong, she wasn’t even going to pretend to resist anymore. Besides, it would give the photographers more material. “Plenty of time for talking after you feed my inner adrenaline junkie.”

  “Inner? Pretty sure for it to be your inner adrenaline junkie, its existence shouldn’t be quite so obvious. But coaster it is.” Evan led her to the El Loco, and they walked right on again, which made it easy to avoid the conversation she didn’t know how to have.

  One thrill ride after another with photographers following close on their heels kept words at bay. Talking would have been unwise in line for fear of being overheard. Instead, if they had to stand near any of the press, Evan made a point of touching her—tucking her hair behind her ears, letting his fingers caress her cheek and draw her in as if to kiss her, only to move away when a flash went off. He was absurdly sure of himself in his role, and she was…adrift. Every time his tide pulled her, she wanted to be swept away, but then she’d fall back into the current of reality.

  It sucked.

  And it made it impossible to think.

  Finally, after a dizzying ride on the Disk’O, Evan called it quits. “That’s it. Even if you don’t, I need something tamer for a few minutes. Drifters?”

  “Sure.” That meant plenty of time to talk, but her brain had been rattled so much she could barely focus. Hopefully, his was in a similar state, and he wouldn’t notice any idiocy that spewed from her mouth.

  They managed to sneak onto the last balloon, which meant the press was left behind the barrier—far enough not to hear anything. Evan held onto her as she boarded, and then sat next to her rather than across. It tipped their balloon a bit but enabled him to put his arm around her shoulders. Cameras started clicking like mad, and Stasia sighed. “Was that what you were trying to give them?”

  He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, whispering, “This has nothing to do with them. Something’s buzzing around your skull so loud I’m surprised the entire Adventure Dome can’t hear it. What’s going on, Stasia? Second thoughts?”

  The ride swung into motion, moving them away from prying eyes and ears, but all she could feel was his breath on her neck, his lips so close to her skin she was mentally begging him to kiss her again. “No. I just…” She sucked in a breath, hoping it would calm her nerves. No such luck. She had to bite the bullet and go for it. “I’m enjoying the attention you’re lavishing on me more than I should. It’s feeling real—which isn’t what we’re going for.”

  “Actually, it is.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he laid a finger across her lips. “We need to make them”—he jerked his head slightly toward the paparazzi—“believe in our relationship. You are going to have to sink into it at least a little, or no one will buy it.”

  “And when it comes time for me to publicly leave you? How do I do that?” God, it was going to be impossible. If she let herself believe he cared, she’d sink in so deep she’d never be able to claw her way out again, and he’d shatter her already broken heart.

  Evan gripped her chin, holding her steady as he met her eyes. There was a darkness in his this time, an anger she didn’t quite understand. “Tell me something, Stasia. You practically begged for the interview with me. Why?”

  “Because…” Because she didn’t quite believe all the shit people wrote about him? Because she wanted to try to get a glimpse at the man behind the tabloids?

  “I’m going to take a stab in the dark. Based on that initial email, it’s because you kind of like me. You think somewhere deep inside this Hollywood exterior there’s a real person, and you want to help people know him. Maybe you wanted to know him a little.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. When it didn’t come immediately in any form other than her mouth dropping, he added, “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t such a blind guess.”

  Stasia’s jaw snapped shut so hard her teeth hurt. “You weren’t kidding with Paul. You really did get that email.”

  “I did. It was me you talked to that first day, not my publicist. And I liked what you had to say. I liked it even more after I checked out your blog.”

  He’d read her blog? Now, she really wanted to have sex with him. Which probably wasn’t why he’d told her. “I… Why didn’t you say?”

  “Because it would have been weird. I shouldn’t have been on that account
at all, but I was on Jessica’s laptop, looking at a project she thought would be good for me, and your email popped up. I read it and, after chatting with you for a little while that day, I told her I wanted you on the list.” He frowned a bit. “You’re not upset, are you?”

  “No,” she said, hesitantly. So what if she talked to him first? Did it really change anything that he’d been impressed with the way she wrote rather than the size of her audience? That it had been him rather than the publicist who made the decision? “Is that why you offered to do this for me?”

  He laughed, the frown disappearing in the space of a heartbeat. “No. I have some reasons, but guilt over getting you here wasn’t among them. So, let me ask you something else. In the short while I’ve had to get to know you, I’ve come to like you. You’re smart, sexy, funny, and fun. Is the feeling mutual or one-sided?”

  She did like him. The moment he’d talked to her as a person instead of a reporter she’d reached that conclusion. And the compliments had her heart fluttering like a teenager whose crush finally paid her some attention. Being with him, though, she wanted more than the illusion they were creating, and she couldn’t help but worry she’d go too far. “It’s not one-sided. Not at all.”

  The ride slowed, easing toward the ground. “Then believe in the fact that we can be friends afterward. If it helps, don’t look at this as a romance. Pretend it’s more friends with benefits, and we’re just screwing with the rest of the world, too. But you can do this. I know you can.”

  The look in his eyes warmed her to her toes. Friends. She could do friends. And when they walked away, she wouldn’t lose him. But… The fluttering inside her reached a fever pitch. “Benefits?”

  His lips twisted into a smirk—one that had made ovaries explode across the continent more than once. “Well, at the very least, you have to let me kiss you again, probably a lot.”

  Like that, her inner lady parts joined the masses who worshipped at the shrine of Evan Stone. He hadn’t been kidding, and she didn’t think she’d be willing to settle for some innocent kissing sessions. She certainly wouldn’t turn them down, though. “As often as you want to.”

  …

  Kissing. She hadn’t balked when he said friends with benefits, and he’d backed off anyway, even though he could barely keep his hands off her. He was to the point that he’d take any touch he could get, but he didn’t want to push her. For the first time ever, he wanted a woman to come to him on her terms. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t recognize himself by the end of the week. Stasia stoked his libido just by touching him. The guy he used to be would have jumped all over the opportunity, but this wasn’t about his sex life.

  It’s called acting for a reason, dumbass.

  In the past, though, if he’d wanted to go home with an available costar he’d never felt the need to check himself. Now, he wanted things to go slow, let her take the lead. He wanted her in his bed more than he wanted to breathe half the time, but he wasn’t going to trick her into it. Evan stopped suddenly as the first glitch in their plan presented itself. “Shit.”

  He hadn’t said it loudly, but Stasia had obviously heard. “What’s wrong?”

  They needed to talk, and they’d already wasted their spin on the balloons. Families had started pouring back into the Adventure Dome, and the kids would provide a small measure of cover. “How about the carousel?”

  Stasia’s brows knit together, but she didn’t protest when he led her toward the merry-go-round and settled onto the bench that had been ignored by all the children. Once they started moving, she twisted toward him and said, “What’s going on?”

  Moving closer, his lips brushed against the silky soft skin near her ear. “Remember that friends with benefits thing? We’re supposed to be engaged. You can’t go stay in your hotel room. You’re going to have to be with me.” He’d been ready for the tiny, panicked gasp and covered her mouth with his until she gently squeezed his biceps. Leaning his forehead against hers, he cupped the back of her neck with one hand to block the press’s view. Still, he barely moved his lips as he said, “I promise nothing will happen that you don’t want, but if Travers is watching, separate rooms is a dead giveaway.”

  “But sleeping together?” Her pulse quickened against his palm, and his cock started responding.

  Fear, not excitement. Get a grip. She was more than happy to bring up her ex once. Pretty sure, no matter what she said, that means the revenge thing is more of the wanting-him-back variety.

  He needed to make sure she realized this wasn’t a ruse to get sex. He wanted it, sure, but not on those kind of terms. “I have a suite. We can make this work.”

  She bit her lip, and it dragged free with agonizing slowness. “With us supposedly engaged, how do I explain having my own, very moderate hotel room in the first place?”

  The ride was coming to a stop—the time for plotting over. “We’ll figure it out when we go to collect your things after we leave here.” Only now did he move in for the kiss, drawing that swollen lower lip into his mouth, savoring the taste of her for a second before reluctantly setting her free. “Maybe just go with we weren’t sure we were going to announce things this week. It’ll be fine.”

  Nodding as she stood, Stasia took his offered hand. “What now? We rode everything.”

  “Romantic dinner?”

  “How about room service at my hotel while we grab my stuff and plot?”

  Evan really needed to have a conversation with his dick about how not everything was an offer of sex. At least the cut of his jeans would do a relatively good job of keeping his hard-on from becoming blatantly obvious. “Sounds great. Where are you booked at?”

  Luckily, they’d exited the Adventure Dome faster than the paparazzi could follow, what with all those tourists in the way. The porter grabbed a cab for them as soon they walked out the door.

  “Treasure Island.” He cut a glance her way, and she rolled her eyes as she slid into the backseat. “What? It’s affordable.”

  “It’s also close to the Venetian, so it won’t take us long to move your stuff,” he said loudly enough the driver was sure to have heard—on the off chance anyone really dug into their itinerary for the night. Then he leaned close to Stasia and whispered, “Just wondering how screwed Travers left you financially.”

  Giving a quiet, albeit somewhat nervous, laugh, she smiled at him. “I’m fine. I just don’t believe in spending frivolously, and upgrading would have been just that.”

  How the hell did he find the one woman who didn’t care about fame, or money, or even overzealous beauty routines? He watched her eyes as they drove the Strip. Neon lights reflected in their brown depths, and she let out a little, contented-sounding sigh as her hand found his. He glanced down at their entwined fingers for a second and then edged closer. Maybe talking about something else would distract him from thoughts of getting her naked. “Don’t turn around. Just tell me what you’re seeing out there?”

  Her nose wrinkled in a cute way that said she thought he was silly. “Why?”

  “Because for the first time since I met you, you look at peace with everything in the world. I want to know how you manage that with all that’s going on.”

  She leaned against him, so close his lips could brush the top of her ear. “I know most people leave Las Vegas with less than they came with, but when I look out the window at the passing lights and the people walking and laughing, I don’t see it. What I see is the hope. It’s in the air here. You know that feeling? Like anything is”—she twisted in the seat and her lips wound up a breath away from his—“possible.”

  They froze there for a second before he ran his hand up her arm. He shouldn’t. Distance was the order of the moment. There were no cameras here—no one to put on a show for, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. He cupped the back of her neck.

  An inch separated them. Not even.

  And she was leaning toward him, her hand sliding up his thigh, right toward the erection that would let her know exa
ctly where his mind had just gone—again.

  “Treasure Island. That’ll be twelve dollars.”

  The cabbie’s voice shattered the moment, and Stasia jerked back, climbing out the door before Evan could say a damn thing. Dropping his head, he blew out a breath. He should have been happy he hadn’t pushed and made her uncomfortable. It shouldn’t have felt like a missed opportunity, but it did. He handed the driver a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  Outside, the Treasure Island water show finished up, fireworks lighting the darkening sky. Maybe it was a good omen. Or maybe it meant this whole thing would blow up in their faces. With the covert glances she cast his way, Evan was fervently praying for the former. He took Stasia’s hand without a word and let her lead him through the glaring lights and cacophony of the casino up to her room. Pretty standard as far as hotels went: crowded but with a nice, neutral décor. Much better than a lot of places he’d seen.

  Her suitcase was on the bed, open but clearly still packed. She shrugged and latched it shut. “Just got in earlier today. Guess it’ll be easy to move.” She worried at her lip and paused with her fingers twisted around the handle. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, it makes things a lot more intrusive than we’d originally anticipated.”

  And not nearly as cozy as part of him wanted. One of these days, he was going to have a nice, uncomplicated relationship. Evan rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

  Without warning, she spun around, her hands splayed on his chest, and pressed her lips to his.

  So much for uncomplicated.

  It was barely more than a few seconds, not even enough time for him to come to his senses, put his arms around her, and pull her close. But it was long enough to make him want to throw caution to the wind.

  His fingers swept the loose strands from her cheeks and tangled in her ponytail as he drew her closer.

  She moaned into his mouth. “We shouldn’t.”