Fake It: A Fake Fiancée Romance Page 7

  I snicker. “Well, no.”

  “Then don’t tell me it’s not that bad.”

  “The soreness will fade. Let’s have some dinner, then you can go up and soak in the tub. Epsom salt will help with the pain and aid in the healing process—just don’t use super-hot water, otherwise it could get infected,” I say, leading her into the dining room. I pull out her chair and she sits down. “You’re hair looks beautiful, by the way.”

  This causes her eyes to brighten. “I do love the hair. It’s so shiny and smooth. I have to get that hair treatment more often. And I have to admit, the nails are pretty cute.” She holds up her hand to show off the manicure. “By the way, how do you know so much about waxing?”

  Before I can answer, she throws her hands up in the air and follows up her question with a quick, “Never mind, I do NOT want to know!”

  I smile and brush it off as I take my seat. “I know the waxing sucked, but I’m pretty sure you’ll like not having to shave for the next several weeks. And the more you do it, the easier it will become.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever do that again. But thank you for the day. Other than the wax, it was fun and relaxing. I can’t believe you got a mani-pedi with me.”

  I laugh. “It’s the little things.”

  We both sit and eat our steak with baked potatoes and side salads while drinking a bottle of wine between the two of us.

  “The maid has spent her day making sure we’re both packed, and she agreed to take care of Cocoa while we’re gone. You have nothing left to do other than get plenty of rest so we can wake up bright and early.”

  “On that note, I think I’ll excuse myself for that bath and try to get some sleep.” She stands and moves toward the door. “I’m sorry if I hit you with anything this morning.”

  I laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow I’ll be more prepared and will move things before I try waking you. Maybe I’ll pull out my old catcher’s mitt and face mask just in case.”

  She offers up a smile, then turns and leaves me alone. I sit back and watch her go, wondering what this feeling is. There’s some piece of me that’s connecting to her. Sure, she’s hot as hell. She’s funny, kind, and friendly. For some reason, I find myself wanting to make her happy—wanting to see her smiles and hear her laughs. It’s completely foreign to me. I’ve never had an urge to do something for the happiness of others. I’ve never thought of anyone but myself. Why is she making me rethink everything I thought I knew? I haven’t slept with her. I don’t have a long friendship with her. She’s nothing more than a woman I hired to play a part. But the closer we get, and the more I learn about her, the more this urge consumes me.

  Chapter Nine

  Samantha

  I walk into my room and throw myself down on the bed. Cocoa immediately jumps up, meowing in my face as she grazes my nose with her fur. I giggle and pull her against my chest, cuddling her closely. “How’s mama’s girl today?” I ask, and she purrs.

  “I’ve had a long day, Cocoa. You think taking a bath is bad? Try having every hair on your body ripped out.”

  She doesn’t respond or even look at me, but I continue. “But I have to admit, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. More awkward than painful. And I did enjoy the mani-pedi and hair salon.” I laugh. “Cameron isn’t the guy I thought he would be. He’s funny and actually kind of sweet. He’s not all business all the time either. In fact, had I met him before all this went down, I probably would have asked him out—well, if I didn’t know about his “love ‘em and leave ‘em” pattern, that is.”

  Cocoa looks up at me, completely unfazed.

  “I know, you don’t care about anything other than licking yourself.” I release her and roll to my feet. “You clean yourself and I’ll go clean myself.” Without another word, I head to the connected bathroom, ready to soak my war-torn bits for a while.

  I fill the Jacuzzi tub as full as it will go, adding in some kind of expensive body oil I found under the counter and some Epsom salt, then slide down into the depths. The water covers my body completely, and the oil coats me like a second skin. It feels as if I’m drinking it up—like my body has been dying of thirst and it’s finally getting a drink of cool water. When I push the button and start up the jets, bubbles build a thick layer along the top. The sweet mixture of vanilla and jasmine wafts up my nose, and I melt into the sensation as I lay my head back and close my eyes.

  The hot water helps to relax my tired muscles, and the smell of the oil calms me. Sleepiness settles over me as I think back on my day with Cameron. I think about how he laughed out loud the first time his feet were touched during his pedicure. He’s so ticklish, he could barely hold still. His face turned red and his eyes lit up. I laughed so hard at him my eyes watered.

  I think about how his hand grazed mine when he handed me a glass of wine before my wax. I can almost still feel the tingles that took over my body with his touch. It makes my stomach tighten in anticipation. My heart starts pounding harder and faster as I picture his sexy face. His strong, firm jaw looks like it could cut glass, and when he flashes me his smile, it looks like a row of sparkling white Chiclets in his damn mouth. If Disney created a prince mixed with an Adonis, it would be Cameron Styles. His dark eyes seem to intensify when I walk into a room. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I swear I saw it today. There’s desire burning behind them; I just know it. The only question is: does he want to change our contract? Does he want to be with me—not in a relationship, but for a quick fling? Just one night to let go of everything holding us back. Is that something I want?

  I know without a doubt that I want to know what it feels like to have him between my legs, but would it change things between us? I like the Cameron I’m getting to know. I don’t want to put our friendship in jeopardy, especially if I have to live with him for the next several weeks. But we’re both consenting adults. Why can’t we have a little fun? No feelings or expectations—just some hot, emotionless sex.

  I let out a long, deep breath as I push those thoughts away as the contract comes back to mind. I’m kidding myself. We aren’t actually friends; he’s just being friendly and cordial as any human in this position would be. I’m just a contract to him—a simple business transaction and nothing more. The sooner I remember that, the easier it will be to ignore the way his firm ass fills out his tailored suit pants. I still think it would be mind-blowing sex, but I guess we’ll never find out.

  I stand and wrap a towel around myself as I turn off the jets and drain the tub. After I dry off, I lather my body in expensive products and pull on a pair of underwear and a t-shirt before slipping into bed. The soft mattress and silk sheets feel like heaven on my skin, and it only takes minutes before I’m in a deep, dreamless sleep.

  “Samantha? It’s time to wake up,” Cameron says, shaking my leg.

  “No. Go away,” I mumble, pulling the pillows closer to my body as I curl myself into a ball.

  “We have a flight to catch. Come on. Wake up,” he tries again just before the light flicks on and blinds me.

  I quickly cover my eyes and throw the blanket over my head.

  “You really think that’s going to work?” he asks, tugging the blanket down my body.

  He goes silent and we both freeze. I’m only in a t-shirt and my underwear, and judging from the cold air on my stomach and breasts, my shirt has worked its way up.

  “Uhh, sorry about that,” he says, dropping the blanket.

  Hearing the nervousness in his voice makes me laugh, and I remove my arm from my eyes. “What’s the matter, Cam? You’re not scared of a little nudity, are you?”

  He clears his throat. “Not at all. Just not wanting to get sued, that’s all.”

  I push myself into a sitting position and adjust my shirt as I throw my legs off the bed. “Sued? Who’s suing?”

  “Nudity isn’t in our contract, or have you forgotten?”

  I stand up, causing my shirt to fall down around my thighs so no bi
ts are showing, and walk toward the bathroom. “I haven’t forgotten, but there are always amendments, Counselor,” I tease, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door between us.

  Since I took a bath last night, I quickly wash my face in the sink and have a seat at the vanity to fix my hair and makeup. Today is the day I have to look like some rich bitch who’s reeled in the big fish.

  While the curling iron heats up, I begin by putting on some moisturizer and primer. I add a little of everything on the vanity before me: foundation, concealer, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and false lashes. Finally, I use the powder contouring kit and finish everything off with some setting spray. My eyes are darkly lined, and the fake lashes make me appear seductive and sexy. My tan skin is glowing with all the money I’ve rubbed into it.

  I quickly curl my hair and fluff it to look thick and full. I step into my empty bedroom and into the walk-in closet. I know the airplane will be cold, but I don’t want to be greeted by the man I need to impress looking like I’m going skiing for the weekend. I pull on a pair of form-fitting skinny jeans and a pair of knee-high boots. I sort through the clothes until I find a long white and cream sweater. It’s appealing but not in an overtly sexual manner; I can’t afford to offend Cameron’s new clients. Stepping out of the closet, I grab my new purse and look myself over.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I came from money. Maybe not “holy shit, she’s rich,” but upper-middle class—still higher up than I am. With a shrug, I turn away from the full-length mirror and rub Cocoa’s head.

  “I’m off, Cocoa. I’ll see you next week, girl.” I give her a few pats—not wanting to get fur all over my new clothes. I kiss her quickly, then leave the room. Heading down the stairs, I find Cameron back in his neatly pressed suit at the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly, I’m again nervous I might be underdressed. He’s talking to another man, and our bags are scattered around him. Finally, he looks up and our eyes meet. That fire is burning bright this morning.

  “Samantha.” He greets me with a smile, but I can see his eyes look me over like I’m something tempting to devour. This man really can’t control himself with women.

  “Good morning. What’s for breakfast?” I ask, turning to look into the dining room.

  “We don’t have time to sit and eat this morning, but if you head into the kitchen, I’m sure they can whip up something to go.”

  “I’ve already handled it, Mr. Styles,” the maid says, walking through the swinging door with a brown paper bag held out.

  I take it from her with a smile and a thank you, then walk past Cameron to head out to the car. I climb into the back seat and open the bag to find a homemade breakfast sandwich: ham, egg, and cheese on a fresh croissant. I waste no time in taking my first bite and I moan audibly as the flavors engulf my taste buds.

  Cameron slides into the seat next to me with a quiet laugh. “Here. I figured you might need something to wash that down with.” He hands over a paper cup full of freshly brewed coffee.

  “Thank you,” I mumble around my food, taking the cup and placing it in the cup holder at my side. “You skipping breakfast?”

  “I had some yogurt and fruit this morning,” he tells me. “It doesn’t take a miracle to get me out of bed in the morning.” He gives me a sidelong glance.

  I give him a mocking smile but ignore his comment with another big bite of my sandwich. “You’re one of those no-carb guys, huh? Is that how you keep your six-pack?”

  “And how do you know I have a six-pack?”

  I swallow down my bite of sandwich while shrugging, “I don’t. I just assumed it since you have a full gym in your house.”

  “Well, yes, I do tend to watch what I eat pretty severely. Just another way I practice discipline in my life.”

  It doesn’t take long to get to the airport and shuffle about until we’re on our plane. The moment I step into that cool, dry air, my spine stiffens.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, bumping his shoulder against mine.

  “Nothing,” I answer all too quickly.

  He snickers. “Are you a nervous flyer?”

  My eyes flash over to him. “No, why would you ask that?”

  He motions toward my hands, which are latched onto the armrests like my life depends on it.

  I press my lips together and force myself to ease up. “There,” I say, placing my hands in my lap.

  “Have you never flown before?”

  “I have. Once, but I was only two. My mom insisted on flying to Chicago to visit with her family before my dad passed away,” I admit.

  He turns so his body is facing me. “Let me show you a little trick.” He picks up my hands and gently massages both of them. “Now, lay your head back and close your eyes.”

  I do as he says, and already, I can feel myself relaxing.

  “Listen to my voice. Listen to your heart and slow it down. Focus on your breathing, Samantha. Breathe in deeply through your nose, and let it out slowly through your mouth.” The entire time he’s talking, his hands are massaging mine, up my forearm, all the way to my stiff shoulders. I relax into his touch, and his fingertips feel like they’re going to burn through my sweater. I can feel the tingle building between my thighs as I involuntarily press them together.

  Finally, it feels like I can breathe again, and my eyes pop open, landing on his. They’re so dark and intense, I find myself getting lost in them. Something between us thickens, and he wets his lips. My muscles tighten back up, ready and waiting to see if those lips are as soft as they look. I run my tongue across my bottom lip, hoping he accepts the invitation. He begins leaning forward, and my heart picks back up, pounding harder than before.

  “Excuse me, would you like anything to drink before we take off?” a flight attendant asks, interrupting.

  Cameron pulls away and shakes his head clear of his thoughts. “No, we’re fine. Thank you,” he tells her, dropping my hands and turning to face forward in his seat. “Did that help ease your mind?” he asks, refusing to look at me.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, all good,” I agree, turning to look out my window. I wish I would have taken that drink from the flight attendant. I could use an ice-cold beverage to cool down my burning cheeks.

  Neither of us says a word as the plane begins to move. We don’t look at each other or touch. His arm is on the armrest between our seats, and my hands are in my lap with my elbows tucked in. I know all it would take is a brush of his arm against mine, and I’d be in his lap with my lips pressed to his. One kiss, and I’d be dying to join the mile high club. I need to keep my attention elsewhere. I need my head on straight. I need to get through this job in one piece.

  We’ve been on the plane for an hour before he finally breaks the silence. “This movie is absolutely the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulls off his headphones and drops them in his lap.

  I pull my eyes away from the window. “I gave up on it twenty minutes ago. It’s no Fried Green Tomatoes, that’s for sure,” I say with a laugh as I turn to look at him.

  The second our eyes connect again, I feel that strange pull inside my stomach—the one that’s pulling and pushing me to reach out and kiss him.

  He must feel it too, because he clears his throat and turns his head, opting to wave over a flight attendant to order drinks.

  Chapter Ten

  Cameron

  Sitting this close to her and not allowing myself to touch her is causing this weird feeling to consume me. The tension between us seems to thicken—so thick now, I can practically see it and touch it. Every time I allow myself to look over at her, she gives me this look that lights a fire in my stomach. It blazes hot and out of control, scorching me, branding me. Her big blue eyes are like an ocean—deep and containing secrets I’m dying to discover. While the color of them could make one think of coldness, I know it’s the complete opposite. When I look into her eyes, I feel the fire in her soul, the warmth of her touch, and the heat she holds in her heart.

  That fire sh
e seems to hide from everyone touched me today, and it pushed me to lean in and want to press my lips against hers. Would she have allowed it? For a split second, it felt like she would. It seemed that fire raging in my stomach burned us both—like it finally grew to be too much for me, and it escaped any way it could. She was close enough that she could feel the heat.

  As much as I want to claim her body, I know I have to keep myself in check. If we get together, it won’t be some random act of passion. It will be thought out and discussed with no expectation of a future. She knows my reputation—that I’m not the white-picket-fence guy you bring home to mom. I won’t pretend to be something I’m not. Hell, I’ll make up another contract if she wishes. But until she says the words, I won’t allow myself to get wrapped up in her any more than I already am. Right now, it’s just a possibility, a tease. I want her because I know I can’t have her. But the moment she tells me she wants me too, everything holding me back will snap, leaving me with no self-control.

  I keep my focus on the magazine in my hands, or the movie playing on the screen, or by just looking around and taking in my surroundings. Sam reads a book and listens to some music. Neither of us seems to know what is going on between us, and I think we’re both afraid to find out. We don’t push to fill the silence. Instead, we both stick to ourselves and pretend there’s nothing beneath the surface. But I think we both know there is. How long can we ignore it?

  When the flight lands, we gather our bags and head for the main doors. I look up and notice a man with a sign that reads MR. STYLES.

  I place my hand on Sam’s lower back and nod in his direction. “This must be our ride,” I tell her.

  She nods once and straightens her back, raising her chin as if she’s putting on her game face.