Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

  I begin my presentation with my backstory, how my grandmother owned her own candle company, and how I experimented with candle making and then became fascinated with soaps. None did everything I wanted. Some smelled sweet, but left my skin feeling dry all over. Others felt great, but had no scents. So, I wanted one that could clean, soothe, moisturize, and smelled like any place I could imagine: the beach, the mountains, clean sheets and a rainy afternoon. The possibilities are endless.

  While I hand out a pamphlet on my small business, website, and sales projections, I tell them how I branched off into lotions, lip balms, and bath gels, each handcrafted in my home.

  This nugget of information impresses Liv, and she smiles wide. I smile back, knowing I’ve got her on my side. Mr. Steele is another story. His eyes burn into me with the same fire they incinerated me with last night. When I’m done, I finally sit, and squeeze my thighs together to quench the ache inside me.

  “This soap smells divine.” Liv takes a long whiff of an oval bar. “What is that?”

  “It’s sandalwood. I have so many different scents.” I grab my bag, opening the front pocket to pull out a variety of scent cards and hand them over to her.

  Each bar of soap has an original ‘calling card’ scent—a smidge of finely ground coffee beans—which I won’t ever disclose. Kind of like a secret ingredient.

  Liv passes the cards to Mr. Steele, and I watch as he brings a card close to his perfect nose. His eyes bore into mine as a small smile graces his lips.

  I try so hard not to smile back.

  “Can you imprint the company goat logo onto the bar?” Mark inquires after the scent cards are handed to him.

  “Absolutely. I can make a stamp, which I can place into each bar upon production.”

  Before I can get into numbers, the door opens, and a woman with red hair twirled into a bun on top of her head, enters.

  “Mr. Steele, sorry to interrupt, but there’s been some damage from the storm last night.”

  “Damage?” He rises from his seat, and I can see my meeting is now finished.

  “The roads at the base of the mountain are blocked, and they’re not sure when they’ll be able to get them cleared,” she explains.

  “What do you mean blocked?” Liv asks with concern, standing.

  I grab my bag, and follow everyone out the door.

  “The storm created an avalanche on Briar’s Pass, and there’s some downed trees blocking the road,” the woman says.

  “Ok, Maggie, do a wellness check on everyone,” Mr. Steele instructs. “Make sure we don’t have any emergencies that need off the mountain immediately. We’re ok on supplies to be holed up here for a few days. Let the guests due to checkout know they won’t be leaving today.”

  I trail behind listening as he doles out instructions to call the sheriff and ask for a timeframe on when the roads will be operational. I’m supposed to be at my mom’s at five, so this isn’t going to work for me.

  “I won’t be able to stay,” I say, realizing I don’t really have the money to book a cabin for another night.

  “Non-negotiable,” he tells me. “Maggie, re-book Miss Walters in her cabin, on us, until the roads are open.”

  “Thank you.” I’d love to fight his generosity, but I can’t afford it right now. Plus, I can see this is a battle I’m not going to win. I excuse myself and head back into the conference room to grab my things.

  When I turn to leave, Graham leans against the door frame. “I’m sorry we can’t finish your presentation.”

  I wave him off, thankful he didn’t bring up our fuckfest. “It’s ok, Mr. Steele.”

  “Graham.”

  Should it feel weird calling the man I had sex with last night by his first name? “Thank you, Gra- Mr. Steele.”

  He leans closer. “I think after last night you can call me by my first name now.”

  Avoiding his mention of our tryst, I reach in my bag for a sample of my soap. “Just do me a favor.” I step closer, holding it out. “Try this tonight when you take a shower.”

  The left corner of his lips lift into a sexy smirk, as his fingers curl around mine, silently tempting me to join him in the shower for a two-night stand. Even though I’d really love to lather him up and lick his skin dry, I step away.

  Fate sucks. Last night it was fine when I didn’t know he’s the man who holds one of the largest accounts I could possibly ever acquire. Now I do. This would be huge for my company—my soapany—so I tamp down my overwhelming desire to lather up his muscular body and think about my future instead of my vagina.

  “Thank you for your time.”

  “Right.” His eyes darken, growing narrow as he stares right through me. “I’ll let you know what we decide.”

  “Have a good day, Graham.” I brush past him and curse fate for screwing me. Literally.

  Chapter 3

  Graham

  If Santa were real, I know exactly what I’d ask for—Zoe’s sweet pussy. Unfortunately, there’s no Santa, and it looks like I won’t be getting to enjoy her anytime soon. The cardinal rule is no mixing business with pleasure. I had no idea the beautiful jaded elf was a potential supplier. Fucking figures. I can’t really confirm that would’ve stopped me had I known, but judging by the look on her face when I walked in, she had no idea either and it certainly would’ve stopped her. I should be making sure everyone in this resort is safe, not replaying sex with Zoe over and over in my head.

  I came up here to get away, not meet someone new. Try telling that to my dick, though.

  After changing into a black sweater and jeans, I shrug into my coat and step from the warmth of my cabin, back into the frigid, ice-cold air. Mounds of freshly plowed snow line the walkways connecting the cabins to the main building as I wander around the property.

  A pink knit hat in the parking lot, covering long dark tresses, catches my eye. Zoe, her previous sexy as sin black business skirt and heels now replaced with jeans and calf-high boots, stands by a black Camry, loading her suitcase into the trunk.

  “What are you doing?” I call out, making my way over to her car.

  “Leaving.” She smiles and brushes past me, throwing her purse into the front seat.

  I grab the door. “You can’t leave. I thought I made that clear?”

  “Well I thought about it,” she grabs the door, and stares into my eyes with something akin to panic, “and, I have to get off this mountain.”

  I smile at her dramatics. “Well, that’s impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible if you try hard enough.” She jerks the car door from my hold.

  “You sound like a motivational poster.” She doesn’t think that’s funny. “I prefer the demotivational ones, they’re more accurate.”

  She scrunches her face at me. “Demotivational?”

  “Yeah, like overconfidence. The cat walking toward the eagle,” I explain, “and a little tagline saying ‘This is going to end in disaster. And you have no one to blame but yourself.’”

  She jerks the door. “Like I said, nothing’s impossible.”

  “Try stapling Jello to a tree.”

  She parks a hand on her hip. “I really have to go.”

  “No one’s getting off the mountain,” I say again.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “No, we won’t.” I lean down, pop her trunk, and make my way to the back of her car.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re staying.” I remove her luggage and set the bag onto the ground.

  “I’ll ski if I have to.” She lifts it back into the trunk. “I have somewhere to be.”

  I step back. “I’m sure you can call your family, or boyfriend…” I don’t finish the thought cause the glare in her eyes directed at me is enough to silence me altogether.

  She stalks closer, her red-tipped nail poking into my chest. “Do you think I’d...” she does a quick check over her shoulder to make sure no one is around, “sleep with you if I had a boyfriend?”
r />   Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that. I sure as fuck hope not. I shrug.

  Her plump lips open into an o. She jabs me again with her finger, this time in the ribs. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.” An idea sparks, though, and I step closer. “Technically.”

  “Technically?” She shakes her head at me, then rolls her blue eyes in indignation. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t have anyone. Ok?” Everything I’m saying is coming out all wrong, so I grab her suitcase and head toward her cabin. This is probably the craziest idea I’ve ever had in my life on this Earth. But I didn’t get to where I am by being mundane.

  “I can’t believe this,” she grouses, following me up the steps. “I can’t believe I’m stuck here.”

  I open her door and let her step inside, before I follow and set her suitcase in the entryway.

  She removes her hat and tosses it onto the mini sofa.

  “Sorry,” not really, “but I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you on your way down the mountain.”

  “For the record, I don’t normally have one-night stands,” she says. “I hope that doesn’t affect... things.”

  “Well, there wasn’t a lot of standing going on,” I walk closer, “so, technically, you didn’t.”

  She crosses her arms, not appreciating my effort to ease her worries. “Since you’re stuck here, why don’t we take advantage of some of the things we offer. We can discuss business.”

  “Outdoor stuff?” I nod, because if I don’t get her outside, I’ll have her legs over my shoulders. “Well, I didn’t bring anything, but I can put some extra layers on.”

  I like her resourcefulness but that’s not going to work. “I’ll have Jean hook you up with everything you need from our store. Do you ski?”

  “Like a pro.” She does this little motion with her hands and hips, mimicking the motions, but to me it just looks sexual.

  “I’ll see you in an hour.” I give her a smile and flee. In a manly way, of course. I phone Jean and make arrangements for her to connect with Zoe. She may think the business to discuss is soap, but I’ve got an even bigger proposal for her.

  Chapter 4

  Zoe

  I’ve never skied in my life. The closest I’ve gotten is a patch of ice in my driveway. That didn’t end well, so I’m not sure why I didn’t just tell him no. Well, I know why I didn’t. This is my chance to get him to agree to my soaps and show I’m a professional. It’s a little unconventional, and I may break my legs, but at least I’ll look fashionable doing it. He wasn’t kidding about Jean hooking me up—black pants and turtleneck, teal jacket, scarf, hat, gloves—I’m a walking endorsement for his fashionable Mountain Goat clothing.

  The snow crunches under my black boots as I hurry to the dark-haired god waiting by the ski rental shop. I was hoping for a puffy marshmallow man, but much to my chagrin, he looks just as sexy in his all black outfit. He probably caused the avalanche with his hotness. It probably slid right off the mountaintop from being near his heat, just like my panties.

  “Hey,” he greets me, lifting his aviators onto his knit hat to give me a thorough eye fuck. “My brand looks great on you.”

  I’m thankful my cheeks are already flushed from the cold, so he can’t decipher the blush now spreading across them. I flip off the hooha switch and hold out my hand to shake his, because that’s appropriate behavior between potential partners. They shake hands, not run them along a whisper of stubble and into the dark hair peeking out from his hat, like mine want to do. “Hello, Mr. Steele. I appreciate the opportunity to discuss business with you. And the clothes to do it in.”

  His brows rise a fraction, and he extends his hand to clasp mine. “It’s like that, huh?”

  “Well, yes.” Unfortunately, it can’t be any other way. This is business. I release his hand and divert my eyes away from his encompassing stare to the white landscape dotted with skiers. Looks pretty easy. “So, do I just shout out things as we ski?”

  He chuckles. “If you’d like, sure.”

  He leads me into the shop where I’m fitted for the gear I’ll need and twenty minutes later, I’m clinging to the poles in my hands I have no idea what to do with, looking down an endless sugary slope. There are no obstacles in my way, so that’s a plus.

  “So, as I said earlier, I can brand all my soaps with your logo.” He looks over at me. “You may think soap isn’t that important, but your guests will appreciate the moisture. No one wants alligator skin. I only use my soap and my skin is extremely soft…” I trail off, realizing he knows exactly what my skin feels like—he licked it. Just like he’s now licking his lips.

  “That it is,” he muses. “Great point.”

  “As I was saying, take away all the clothes and skin is all you have left…” This is not going well. Now, all I see is his nude body covering mine. “Ready?”

  “How about a wager, Zoe?”

  “What kind of wager?”

  “You beat me to the end of that slope and I’ll put your soaps in the cabins—“

  “Seriously?” I cut him off in my excitement.

  “Well,” he says, looking very dark and devilish against the pristine terrain, “if you don’t, then you agree to my proposal.”

  “What proposal?”

  “Well, if you win, you won’t have to find out.”

  Maybe this is some kind of eccentric businessman test to see how bad I want this deal. My former boss had a bad habit of giving impromptu assignments that later turned out to be his way of ‘separating the sharks from the guppies.’ I’m not really one to venture into the unknown without cautiously dipping a toe in first, but I’ve had sex with Graham, so, yeah, this isn’t exactly following my guidelines. Time to be a shark. “Let’s do it.” Once again, his eyes flare at my word choice and it’s suddenly blistering hot on this mountain. “Count to three,” I tell him, getting into position and hunkering down a little.

  I look over and a small grin plays at his lips. I really wish he’d take off that hat that’s making him look so ruggedly handsome.

  “Ok, one,” he starts, but I’m already gone. I figure it’s only fair I get a head start. Besides, he should admire my tenacious desire to win. Since I don’t really know how to get started, I give an awkward attempt to run. It may not be the most graceful thing, but it works, and the next thing I know, the wind is hugging my face. I ski like a champion. For about a second. I wouldn’t exactly call what I’m doing skiing, more like trying to keep my legs together, which is what I should have done in the first place. Pricks of snow pelt my face, and my heart races faster than I’m flying as a tall black-clothed body whizzes past me like a gold medal skier.

  “My soaps are hypoallergenic,” I yell out in a futile attempt to distract him. It doesn’t work, and my survival instincts kick in as he swooshes to a winning stop. Something I don’t know how to do. “Oh fuck,” I mutter as I drag my useless poles and then slam them down, sending myself face first into a bed of snow.

  “Are you ok?” Graham asks, kneeling beside me.

  “I seem to be.” I roll over, cautiously, making sure all my body parts work. “Am I bleeding? Don’t tell me if I am. If I have any major trauma, I don’t really want to know.”

  With a gentle swipe that sends warmth all the way to my toes, he removes the snow from my cheeks, then releases the skis from my feet to help me up. “No, you’re not bleeding.”

  “Best out of three?” I try, knowing there’s no way I could beat him in a rematch.

  He smirks. “So you can cheat again?”

  “Guess cheaters never win is a real thing.” Resigned to losing, I dust myself off. “Ok, congratulations. What’s your proposal?”

  And then, he nearly knocks me off my feet with a snowball of words. “We’re getting married.”

  Chapter 5

  Graham

  Maybe I should’ve softened the proposal blow. I’ve been told I’m too blunt, may
be it’s true. I have no experience in the fiancée department, but It can’t be good that Zoe is now the same color as the snow beneath our feet. Silent and owl eyed, she stares at me as if I’ve just grown another head. Which, I guess she would. On the romantic side, however, a light snow falls all around her, and if this were a real proposal, it’d be perfect.

  “We’re not really getting married,” I explain. “I need someone…” I trail off, rubbing my thumb along my jaw. “I need someone to come home with me for the holidays.”

  After what seems like an eternity, she finally squeaks out a “Why?”

  For some reason, it reminds me of the helmet wearing little mouse approaching a trap on a demotivational poster in one of my employee’s office.

  “It’s my mother. It’s complicated.” I smile, hoping my charm will help land my proposal. “Come on, you in? You did lose, after all.”

  My charm must be rusty, because she gives me a little eye roll. “What would I have to do...exactly?”

  “Just pretend to be my fiancée. My mother thinks I’m engaged.”

  “Why does she think you are?”

  “Maybe because I told her I was?” It sounds ridiculous coming out of my mouth, but my mother is relentless. “You’ll understand when you meet her.”

  As a little Jedi mind trick I learned along the path to success, I speak in certainties so she’s already envisioning it as a done deal.

  “You mean if I meet your mother?”

  Of course, it wouldn’t work on someone like Zoe. “I know this is crazy. Really, I do. It would be a simple meet my family, and after, we can break up.” And then I throw in the clincher, because she doesn’t look sold just yet, “And your soaps will be in every cabin on this mountain.” Her eyes shine at that, and I tuck away the unfamiliar feel of disappointment that she clearly doesn’t like me enough to just go along with this insane idea. “We’ll just need to get you a ring.”