Tempting Her Fake Fiance

by Julie Particka

  PR. With all their scrambling yesterday, neither of them had considered the fact that he had people responsible for his publicity—responsible for his life as far as his career went. When he finally stopped moving, Stasia strode up and snaked her arms around him from behind. It was as close to apologizing for complicating his life as she could get without actually interrupting the call.

  The hand not holding the phone covered hers, squeezing.

  The gesture was foreign to her. Paul would have ignored her or, if he was really pissed, shrugged her off. Could it possibly mean Evan wasn’t angry? For a long second, she stood there, cheek pressed against the warmth of his back, and blinked repeatedly. This might have felt strange, but it also felt good.

  Which made the strangeness all the more depressing.

  On a positive note, though, he hadn’t left. She wasn’t sure why that mattered so much, but waking up without him next to her had thrown her more than she wanted to admit. Resting her head between his shoulder blades, she let her racing heart slow down.

  “Yeah. Got it. Thanks.” Blowing out a breath, Evan thumbed off his phone and tossed it on the side table.

  “Publicist?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “You in big trouble?”

  “Do you remember the piece that made the runs through the tabloids about the three sisters who were all claiming I got them pregnant?”

  “Yes. It was one of the crazier stories to hit last year.”

  Evan laughed, raised her hands to his lips, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Well, that was trouble. You and I are just an annoyance. Jessica had to figure out the proper spin since people I’ve done interviews with over the last several months started calling as soon as our engagement hit the wire, demanding to know why I hadn’t mentioned you.”

  “Oh.” Paul probably among them. How the hell were they supposed to maintain this illusion all week? It didn’t matter if they were having a fling that would make it easy to look like a couple. The history wasn’t in place. Anyone really determined would do enough digging and come up with the truth.

  Evan turned around and caught her face in his hands. “I can feel you getting tense. Stop it. Everything is going to be fine. Now, go hit the shower. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

  “We do?”

  He grinned like the damn Cheshire cat. “Trust me. Shower. We have reservations at Paris in an hour.”

  Shit. There was no way she could be ready in an hour. Not if he expected her to look like the fiancée of a movie star. This was going to be a disaster. Groaning, Stasia turned toward the bedroom. Evan took the opportunity to swat her on the ass, eliciting a tiny laugh. “Fine. I’m going.”

  In the bathroom, she raced through her shower as quickly as she could without skipping any steps. Back in the robe, she combed the tangles from her hair and stared at the products she’d brought with her. If she was really careful, maybe she could recreate what the makeup artist had done yesterday. Her hair was still going to be an issue since there was so much of it.

  A knock on the door snagged her attention. “Uh…come in.”

  Evan popped his head inside. “Want help?”

  Her insides tightened for a second before she realized he probably meant the question literally, rather than in a fantasy-fulfillment way. “Considering I’m supposed to look like the fiancée of one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors and a known ladies’ man? Want doesn’t come close. Need is more like it.”

  Giving a laugh, he stepped inside and planted a kiss on her bare shoulder. She wanted to lean into him and let her robe fall. Skipping food sounded like the best plan ever.

  “You don’t need as much help as you think. But if it really bothers you, I’ll take care of it. For now, just do yourself up however you would normally. I’m going to go make a call.”

  When she exited the bathroom a few minutes later, she found him not on the phone but perusing her clothes. He handed her an outfit. “This’ll work for now, but we really need to get you past your obsession with hiding yourself behind all these baggy clothes. You’re a beautiful woman; you need to let the world see that.” He cleared his throat. “Especially if we’re going to get your ex’s attention.”

  Stasia frowned at the skirt and blouse he’d chosen. She’d packed it in case she went to see any shows but hadn’t really expected to wear it. And for brunch? Besides, she didn’t hide—she dressed to be comfortable. Just because that usually included jeans and comfy T-shirts didn’t mean anything. Still, she put on the chosen outfit and started drying her hair.

  A few minutes later, Evan came in and ran his fingers through her hair as she dried it. Stasia lost herself in his touch, imagining his hands on the rest of her body, strumming her like a well-tuned guitar, teasing out a melody she’d never thought she held inside.

  Sex with Paul had become so perfunctory over the last couple years, she’d forgotten what it could be like. Hell, after one night with Evan, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really known. She’d grown used to considering it a banner night if sex brought her to orgasm at all, but Evan had pushed her over the edge more than once. Her entire body felt alive when he touched her, as if he set fire to her nerve endings themselves. Maybe that was his real superpower. Her lips twitched into a smile as she thought about calling him “Orgasm man.”

  “No falling asleep on me. You’ll end up dropping the dryer on your head.” His voice right next to her ear had Stasia jerking from her thoughts.

  “I was not falling asleep.”

  “Then let’s call it very, very relaxed. It was nice to see you let go like that.” He swept her hair to the side, ran his fingers down her neck, and began stroking the muscles across her back.

  “What do you mean?”

  Evan shrugged. “Just that since I’ve met you, you’ve been strung as tight as a cat stalking a bird on a wire. Last night, I thought you’d left that behind, but it’s back this morning.” His fingers put pressure on the muscles of her shoulders, kneading them. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how tight they were.

  “I’m not that bad.”

  One hand drifted down her arm and tucked under the edge of her blouse. His lips were right next to her ear, and his whisper practically had her eyes rolling back. “Last night, my hand under your shirt sent you running for the hills. But I think inside you’re sick and tired of being the woman who’s always worried what Paul Travers or anyone else thinks.”

  “I am.” The truth of his words hit her so hard she almost sobbed. God, she had still been worried about what people would think. Poor Stasia, falling for a man who would never really love her. Hollywood types don’t fall for reporters. How could she ever believe it was real? She’d had to force herself past all those voices in her head in order to go for what she wanted—consequences be damned. “I am so ready to put that behind me, but I’m not sure how.”

  “That’s easy.” He spun the chair around and tugged her to her feet. “Right now, you put on shoes, so we can get food. Then you trust yourself to the man who’s spent the last decade perfecting the art of living for the moment.”

  Easy. Sure. So long as she never forgot she was nothing but another woman to him. He’d brought up Paul on his own—a clear reminder this was nothing but a job to him. There would be someone new days, if not hours, after they parted ways. And, whether or not she kept that in mind, in six days he’d be nothing but a wonderful memory. That left them plenty of moments before she had to give up the way she felt with him.

  …

  Evan had known breaking news of his engagement would have the cameras out in force, but he hadn’t expected to be followed to the restaurant. Fortunately, the photographer had mostly stayed clandestine through the meal. Stasia had taken him at his word and seemed a lot calmer while they ate. Unfortunately, the paparazzi weren’t so subtle once they stepped outside.

  And they’d brought the fan girls with them. Women screamed his name from behind a roped line. Stasia turned away as if she wan
ted to hide. He hadn’t heard any comments thrown her way, but it didn’t mean they hadn’t happened.

  “Evan! Mrs. Travers!”

  As soon as her married name was blurted out, Stasia’s entire body went on high alert: muscles tight, jaw clenched, eyes darting. The urge to hide replaced with an obvious fight or flight response. The porter was waving a taxi forward, but it would be a few seconds before they could disappear. Time to nip this shit in the bud.

  “First, she’s going to be Mrs. Stone soon, so a little respect please. In the meantime, it’s Miss Grant.”

  Stunned silence lasted less than five seconds, but the ghost of a smile on her lips was enough to make responding well worth his time.

  “Fine. Miss Grant! Can we get a quick shot of the two of you?”

  So far, everything had been candid—more or less, at least—one posed picture shouldn’t be a big deal. The cab jerked to a stop, and Evan wrapped an arm around her waist, whispering, “You okay with this?”

  Giving him a conspiratorial look, she said, “I’m going to be your wife. I should probably get used to it.”

  Cameras flashed as she twisted in his embrace to smile at them. Evan only hoped no one questioned the way her voice had caught on the word wife. Maybe they’d just write it off as nerves. “Okay, guys, I want to take my lady out for a little while. We’ll see you later. I promise.”

  Inside the relative security of the car, Evan said, “Around the block, then Caesars Palace.”

  The cabbie gave him a funny look, but it was obvious he didn’t care. Stasia was equally confused though. “Wait. Why are we going to Caesars? And why did you pay a cab to take us across the street?”

  “Because we have some stuff to take care of over there. I’m hoping the press will think we’re going farther, and we’ll get freedom for a little while. Speaking of”—leaning toward Stasia, he kissed her forehead—“sorry you had to deal with that.”

  She shrugged as they separated. “Do they really follow you everywhere?”

  “Not always. And usually not away from LA. I’m sure there were a few here because of the premiere.”

  “And more came because of me?” Her fingers trailed down his arm, the touch so tender it made him want to kiss her again and not stop this time. “I didn’t mean to complicate your life so much.”

  “Babe, you are the single best complication I’ve ever had.” He pulled her closer, wishing they didn’t have to go through all this for the sole purpose of getting her the revenge she clearly needed, but his reality wouldn’t allow for anything more—not right now. Of course, he wouldn’t have her in his arms now if not for her vengeance, and he wasn’t about to give that up. Then he remembered the cab driver was likely listening in. Rather than focusing on Stasia, Evan had to be sure all the pieces fit their story about being engaged. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  In minutes, they were unloading from the taxi and sneaking inside. He led her to the Color Salon. “Stasia, this is Michael, and he’s going to turn you into that Hollywood wife you mentioned.”

  “But…” Her eyes darted around as if looking for cameras.

  He waved off the stylist for a second and leaned in close. “Babe, if you don’t want the makeover, I’m okay with skipping it. I think you’re gorgeous.”

  “But Paul doesn’t.” She sighed. “Okay. Have Michael fix me up.”

  Evan had to force a smile as he handed her off to the stylist. Paul. They’d had sex multiple times last night, and all she cared about was what Paul thought of her.

  Stop looking at how different she is from the women in your past, asshole. She’s still hung up on her ex. If not for that, she would’ve done her interview and been on her way. The speech was supposed to make him feel better, not worse, but after all the talk of families yesterday, he wanted to know more. He wanted her more.

  And the sex was going to drive him mad. Logically, the more he had her, the less he should want her. That’s how it had always worked for him. Stasia did things to him he didn’t understand. They had sex, and all he could think about was when they’d get to do it again, and he couldn’t stop touching her.

  He needed to get a fucking grip. After he’d explained things to Jessica—which had been a calculated risk—she’d reaffirmed what he was doing with Stasia was fine. “Not a horrible plan” had been her exact words. She’d followed that with the news she had already arranged for him to get together with a gorgeous Latina who was stateside to do some big film about ancient civilizations and aliens. It was the perfect setup as her return to Mexico for her television series would provide a clean end to their relationship. The timing—about a week after returning to LA—fit for a rebound fling after Stasia dumping him. And if he seemed less into the new chick than he usually was, no one would question it.

  The entire thing was scripted, almost right down to how they’d say good-bye.

  That was his life, not this illusion with Stasia.

  Especially not when she couldn’t stop thinking about her ex.

  After buying a cheap baseball cap, Evan killed a couple hours in the casino before returning to the salon. Stasia was practically glowing when she came out. Michael had thrown some highlights in her hair and cut it so it framed her face, making her cheekbones more prominent. And the makeup artist had highlighted her eyes so they were impossible to turn away from.

  “You were right.” She popped up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “They work miracles here.”

  “Nope, babe. This is all you. It was there before. They just made you see it.” He handed over his credit card, and Stasia balked.

  “You don’t have to pay for me to go Hollywood.” She was digging in her purse already, but Evan waved at Michael to run his card.

  “I want to. In fact, this whole day is one big treat from me, so I don’t want you to worry about money or even think about taking out your wallet.” Not to mention, he didn’t want to see her expression at what he’d just paid to have her hair and makeup done. Stasia had made it very clear she didn’t spend money easily. It seemed like Travers had beaten her down to Cinderella scrubbing the hearth mode, and she’d become far too comfortable in the role. This was something Evan could do for her without worry, and she deserved a day to be treated like a princess. Or a week in this case.

  Credit card back in hand, he swept her from the salon and to their next appointment. At the door, they were met by a woman named Alice. She blinked perfectly made-up blue eyes at Stasia. “Oh, you’re absolutely lovely, but I can see we have some work to do.”

  Evan winced. Not the way this was supposed to go. “Stasia, meet your new fashion coordinator. Her job is to run around stores with us, and over the next couple hours, she’s going to take care of the rest of that ‘I’m not Hollywood wife material’ worry you have going on.” He shot Alice a look. “And we’re going to make it fun.”

  The woman batted her false eyelashes like he’d slapped her. “Of course. When is shopping ever not enjoyable?”

  Stasia rolled her eyes. “Obviously, you’ve never had to buy new jeans before.” When Alice didn’t respond, Stasia threw her arms in the air. “Okay. I surrender myself to your care. Do your best Pretty Woman routine on me.”

  Evan nuzzled her neck. “Julia Roberts doesn’t have a thing on you, babe.”

  Alice wrapped her bejeweled fingers around Stasia’s right hand and pumped it gently. “I promise to not let this be as bad as jeans shopping.”

  Stasia’s eyes lit up, and she tilted her head to the side. “Your wedding band is gorgeous.”

  “This old thing?” Alice twisted the offending ring. “It belonged to my husband’s grandmother who loved me like her own. If it wasn’t for sentimental value, I’d have replaced it long ago.”

  “Well, I think it’s amazing, and it’s even better since it means something.” Smiling now, Stasia squeezed Alice’s hand.

  The wedding ring was almost lost in the glitz of all the other jewelry on the consultant’s fingers. While the stone was a de
cent size, the band lacked the dazzle of most modern rings. Instead, the worn metal itself was the art, carved with elaborate detail. As Alice swept Stasia into their first stop, Evan pondered his plan for the end of the day.

  By the time Stasia was ensconced in a dressing room, he shook off the negative thoughts that had started to plague him again. He’d promised to help Stasia get back at Travers, which meant they needed to get his attention. If they wanted to leave him all wet, that required something big and splashy—and a new wardrobe wasn’t going to do it on its own.

  Then again, he hadn’t planned on the sight that met him when she came out of the dressing room. Stasia was fiddling with her hair, but Evan barely noticed. The pale pink dress hugged every one of her curves, with gathers on one side emphasizing her narrow waist. The neckline was high and modest cap sleeves covered her shoulders, but she looked like sin on legs to him.

  “Stasia, that’s…” His mouth dried up as words failed him for a second.

  “You’re right. I told her it was too much. Alice is trying to convince me this thing is day wear, and I told her no one in their right mind—”

  “You look stunning. And it is for daytime.” The look was perfect: sexy yet professional…classy.

  “Are you sure?” She smoothed her hands over the fabric as if to erase wrinkles that weren’t there.

  “Positive.” When Alice peeked around the corner, Evan spoke to her, “We need a couple more like this and some cocktail dresses for evenings out. Maybe some darker, sexier colors for those.” She nodded and started to disappear when he remembered. “Oh, and don’t forget about a gown for the premiere.”

  “Of course, Mr. Stone.” The woman grinned, likely ringing up her commission as she dove into the racks of designer clothes.

  Evan turned back to Stasia. “Now, let’s see what else you’ve been hiding from the world…”

  One store after another had them collecting bags and boxes of clothes. It was only when Stasia caught sight of a price tag at Kate Spade that she stopped in her tracks. “Evan? Can we talk?”

  Shit. He took the dresses from her and passed them to Alice. “Put those on my card. We’ll be right over.” Once the stylist was out of the way, he turned back to Stasia. “What’s wrong?”