Tempting Her Fake Fiance Read online

  “Because, of course, everyone is just going to buy that you suddenly decided to get hitched to a reporter from Detroit?” This plan is never going to work. Not in a million years.

  The opinion was obviously not shared by the hotter-than-hell movie star at her feet. Evan grinned and chucked her under the chin. “Just follow my lead. You’ll be fine.” He pressed a button and spoke into an intercom. “Send in the next one.”

  Then he settled into his chair and twined his fingers in hers. Tingles of electricity raced up her arm and set the rest of her body vibrating with near uncontrollable need. She crossed her legs, pressing them tightly together and hoping she’d survive the afternoon.

  This was going to be an absolute disaster.

  Except it wasn’t.

  Sex was never far from her mind, but there was enough storytelling going on to keep her minimally distracted, and no one even asked her to leave. Obviously, Evan Stone having a secret girlfriend was the biggest news of the day, and everyone wanted to check her out. Hell, if she’d been on the receiving end of the story he wove out of thin air, she’d have been just as interested.

  “See?” he said as the second-to-last reporter left. “Nothing to it.”

  “Sure. Too bad Paul is up next.” She worried at the sleeves of her blazer. Paul always wanted to be the last interviewer because he was convinced, by that point, the subject would be tired and slip up. If she was lucky, he’d insist they kiss for the cameras—too bad it’d probably also be their undoing. First kisses looked totally different than other kisses, or at least they did in the movies. “He’s going to try like hell to poke holes in this from the word go.”

  “Then we poke holes in him.” Evan raised her hand and pressed another kiss to the inside of her wrist as Paul entered. Her entire body melted into the seat cushions. She’d never known that spot was an erogenous zone, but if he kept it up, Evan was going to have her coming in her chair. Suddenly, she wanted them done with this interview, not to be rid of Paul, but so she could have Evan Stone all to herself for at least a few blissful moments.

  Her ex staggered to a stop in the doorway. She caught him out of the corner of her eye but refused to turn, instead keeping all her attention on Evan’s seductive yet grounding gaze. She could do this—especially if he kept kissing her. “Whatever you want.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something? I was under the impression this was my interview slot.”

  “Not at all.” Evan waved his free hand toward the open chair. “I was just trying to convince my girl here to do something a little less conventional once we finished up.”

  “Your…girl?” Paul’s ass was several inches from hitting the cushion when he paused. He didn’t hover long, but Stasia had clearly seen the hesitation. Evan had managed to throw him off guard already. “I heard murmurs outside of a new girlfriend, but this is a bit of a surprise.” He trapped Stasia with his gaze and seemed to be willing her to wither—and break. It was a move he’d perfected while they were married. Even now, after months of distance from him, part of her still cowered.

  Evan must have noticed her increased nerves because he yanked the focus back to him. “It surprised a few people. Stasia and I have been talking online for a while now—ever since she initially messaged my people about the opportunity to interview me this week. She didn’t know at first that she was talking directly with me.”

  Wait. What? This hadn’t been said to any of the other reporters, but she had messaged his publicist about an interview slot when the divorce had made it so Paul wouldn’t allow her to sit in on the interview slot she’d secured for him and his bigger market. There’d been some brief back and forth over about a half an hour, and then she’d gotten confirmation a few days later. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “I see.” Paul straightened, well aware of the cameras on them. “And when did you first meet in person?”

  Shit. Paul knew too much of her schedule, not to mention her financial situation. He’d know she couldn’t have just taken a trip out to California on a whim and…

  “When did I fly out and take you to dinner? Was that June?” Evan laughed and turned toward her, favoring her with a look that had her insides quivering like Jell-O. “Honestly, it could have been any time this summer. My schedule gets so jumbled I forget what continent I’m on occasionally.”

  The delay as he spoke was enough for Stasia to forget about romantic glances and calculate when it would have been feasible for him to pop over for a clandestine meeting. “Beginning of July. I snuck away from the family Fourth of July weekend.” She had, too—just not for him. She’d found a stray dog when she’d been out shopping and had gone on a hunt for its owners. Paul wouldn’t know and, if he asked her family, they would confirm that she’d taken off for several hours. Plus, it was one of the rare periods when Evan hadn’t been making headlines.

  “That’s right. I wanted to watch the fireworks with you, but you weren’t ready to spring me on your family yet. Which reminds me, you should probably give them a heads up before this starts hitting the internet.”

  Oh God. There was no time to lose herself in her sexy co-conspirator. As soon as they were done, she needed to get in touch with her parents, at least. If they caught wind of her dating a movie star from anyone else, it wouldn’t go over well. On the other hand, Evan was rapidly making her feel like she could deal with anything—even with her control-freak ex in the room—which was a far cry to how she’d felt only a few hours earlier. “No worries. I think they have a pretty good idea that something’s been making me happy the last couple months.”

  Silence hung for a minute, and she resisted the urge to look at Paul. He didn’t do silence, which meant he was trying to find something to grab onto here. But Evan had made sure there was nothing. The man was so much more than a handsome face and a killer body, and the way he kept rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb—as if to remind her he was there with her every step of the way—was imparting a strength she’d never thought she could have while in the same room with her ex.

  When Paul finally spoke, it was as if Evan had held out a hammer and nail, and he’d willingly taken it and pounded it into his own coffin. “I’m sure our viewers would love to know how serious this is, especially considering you’re pretty well known as the guy who likes to love ’em and leave ’em.”

  He’d looked at her as he said the last part, but Stasia only smiled. It takes one to know one, Paul.

  Evan let out a sigh that was so full of bliss it even felt real to Stasia. She turned to find him staring adoringly at her. It was the kind of look that spoke of long days spent in bed, having sex and snuggling. Holy hell, he’s good at this. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s pretty damn serious. I used to be that guy but, rumors notwithstanding, I haven’t been with or wanted to be with another woman since I started talking to Stasia. If anyone’s going to do the leaving, it won’t be me. I can promise you that much.”

  And just like that, she knew they’d hooked Paul. They’d handed him the ideal romantic story—one he would spend the rest of the week looking to tear apart. Which meant they were going to fail if they didn’t play their fake romance perfectly. With no time to plan, no room for mistakes, and her libido fighting to overpower her reasoning skills, how the hell were they supposed to pull this off?

  …

  When Evan had suggested they spend the evening doing something Paul “never would have agreed to,” this wasn’t quite what he’d expected. He’d kind of hoped for something a little more private—maybe with fewer clothes. He’d wanted his hands on Stasia since that first moment she’d walked into her interview. At the time, he managed to keep it to his lips on the inside of her wrist, but he wanted more—a lot more. “Skee Ball? Really?”

  “Sure.” She bobbled a ball and gave him a shy smile—the kind that made him wonder once again how Paul Travers could have been such an idiot. Stasia was the kind of gorgeous Hollywood tried to fake all the time. From her c
hestnut waves to her full lips, and a body that wouldn’t quit—physically, she was the perfect woman. And her lack of awareness about it only made her sexier. Too bad she apparently loved Skee Ball. “I’m an amusement-park junkie, but about a year into our marriage, Paul decided that, as adults, we needed to give them up. I’ve been dying to hit a midway ever since.”

  “How long since your last time?”

  “Four years.”

  “Then by all means, let’s do the midway and the coasters and make ourselves sick on cotton candy.”

  “Careful or I might end up falling for you for real.” Her mouth formed a tiny O as if she’d just realized her gaff. Luckily, there was no one close enough to hear.

  He laid a hand over the ball, bringing it to a rest. “But why the hell are we starting with the world’s most evil game?”

  Stasia laughed, the sound full and light now, nowhere near the tightness from earlier. He liked the change. If she could feel this much better after only a few hours, she’d be completely done with her ex by the end of the week. And if he played his cards right, maybe he could show her other ways to enjoy life again, too. “Skee Ball isn’t evil.”

  Or not. “Yes, it is.”

  “I get the impression what you’re trying not to say is the action star sucks at the game.” Turning, she rolled the ball on the ramp, dropping it handily into the left-hand, one-hundred-point cylinder.

  Evan couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping open. “How the hell did you do that?”

  Across the midway, a siren went off and lights began flashing as someone won a prize. Evan didn’t bother looking, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the way Stasia’s deep-brown eyes shone. “I was right!”

  “Yeah. Fine. I suck at Skee Ball. Are you going to tell me the trick?” It was stupid as hell, but Vicky had always beaten him at the game when they were kids. No matter how hard he’d tried, he’d never managed to roll better than a two-fifty. It’d be nice to actually stand a fighting chance next time they took their younger cousins to Chuck E. Cheese.

  “Bad news? There is no trick.”

  “Great.” So much for that hope.

  “Good news is I can still help you.” She lobbed a ball in his direction, and he caught it without a thought. “And considering your reflexes, you should manage this no problem.”

  He was great with his hands, which she’d know personally the instant she gave him the chance to show her. God, what was it with this woman? He couldn’t stop thinking about getting her naked and having his way with her. Did I forget how to think with my damn big head? Focus. It’s like working on a movie. If I think too far ahead, I lose the scene. Same thing now—just focus on the moment. Which meant responding to her words. “I can juggle the fucking balls. I just can’t do what you did even if it was to save my life. I shoot for those holes and end up with nothing.”

  “That’s your first mistake. No one starts out hitting hundreds unless it’s a fluke.”

  True, but it was the highest score on there. He had to have those if he ever wanted to beat Vicky. “All right, ignore the corners. What else?”

  Now, her eyes practically glittered with reflected lights and glee. “Kneel.”

  “If you’re trying for Loki there, you might want to work on your accent.”

  She swatted him lightly on the arm. “I’m not mimicking anyone. You’re just too tall. So kneel.”

  Behind her, Evan caught sight of a man whose camera looked a little too elaborate for your average tourist. It was another awkward reminder that this was a show, not a real date. Odd how quickly he’d forgotten. Trying to put the paparazzo out of mind, he knelt in front of the Skee Ball machine and swung like he was going to throw the ball. “This is great, but I’m not sure I can actually roll the ball from here.”

  “Hmm…” Stasia tapped a finger against her chin. “So, you don’t roll.”

  Evan sank back on his heels and twisted toward her. Damn. This put him at the perfect height for… A camera flashed in his peripheral vision, snapping him back to reality, and he tipped his head up. “In that case, how do you suggest I score?”

  Smirking—probably at the unplanned innuendo of his words—Stasia pointed at the game and then stepped behind him. She wrapped her fingers over his and lifted the ball onto the track. “Ever watched a curling match? You’re going to slide instead of roll.”

  He liked having her close like this. The way her breasts pressed against him and her breath tickled his neck. Though he would have preferred her in front of him, both of them naked, and Skee Ball nowhere in sight. But he could deal for now. Together, they moved the ball forward and back on the track for a few seconds before she released her grip. On the next shove, Evan let go. The ball slid so hard, it hit the backboard and then the net…and bounced into the zero hole. “Yep. That worked much better.”

  “Sarcasm is so sexy.” She wrinkled her nose as she smiled and then slapped another ball in his hand. “Your aim is great. You just need to learn finesse. This isn’t about how hard you can throw it. Line up your shot.”

  Shrugging, he got into position and started moving the ball. “Got it.”

  “Now, close your eyes.” When he craned his neck around, she twisted it forward again. “Realign and then close your eyes.”

  “Awfully demanding for before the wedding, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea. Plus, I’m not sure I can handle you looking at me for this, but it’s how it was explained to me back in high school—I never forgot.” No matter how curious he was about her words, he did as she asked, and then her voice was right there, whispering in his ear and making him think about sex again. What would it be like to have her talking to him like this then? Her voice all husky with desire as her body trembled…kind of like it was right now. “The track is the separation between a woman’s thighs. It wants to lead you right to the perfect spot. But if you’re shy, you’ll never reach the mark. And if you just try to ram it in, she’s not going to be happy. You need to caress her, ease into her, make it… Just. Right.”

  On the last word, she blew softly against the edge of his earlobe. It was as if every nerve ending in his body lit on fire. His eyes popped open, and he released the ball. It skated over the track like it was oiled and plunked into the forty slot. “I did it.”

  “Not bad. A little more confidence and you’ll hit the sweet spot every time.” She laughed at her own joke, burying her head in his neck. Heat from her cheek warmed his jawline. As much as he’d like to think her speech turned her on as it had him, he could sense her embarrassment. That would never do.

  Evan snaked an arm around her waist and whipped her in front of him so she half lay across the Skee Ball track. She let out a squeak of surprise, but when her eyes met his, the flush in her cheeks turned to something hotter, and his body responded, hardening at the promise in her gaze. “Believe me, I’m a fan of that spot. What about that little blow you gave me? What was that?”

  Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she turned away from him—suddenly shy again. “Can we call it inspiration?”

  It was inspiring a lot of thoughts for him, that much was certain.

  With a single finger, he applied gentle pressure to her chin until she faced him. For a long second they stayed like that, and he watched as the guarded look in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a hint of seductive darkness. That was so much better, so much more the woman he’d seen lurking in her eyes since the moment he saw her. That was the woman he wanted to keep touching all night long. He leaned in close so only she could hear him. As much as he wanted to lose himself in her, he needed to remind her of their reality. This was a show. They could go as far as she wanted, as long as they both remembered that. “We can call it whatever you like, but there’s a camera behind us, and I’m going to kiss you breathless now.”

  “Okay.” The word was like a ghost on the air, more a movement of lips than sound. And her lips…

  As he leaned in, it wasn’t Stasia he was worried would forget. This
wasn’t just a show for the cameras. No matter how much he knew better, he didn’t want to think about the press or Paul Travers at all. The only thing Evan wanted to focus on was Stasia and her luscious mouth. All he wanted was this kiss.

  The first touch sent a longing through him straight to his groin. Soft. Her lips were so soft they were like velvet under his. Without further thought, he went back for another sample, this time pressing his mouth to hers fully. Her hand inched up his chest and wound around his neck to wrap in his hair and pull him closer.

  He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much his body and mind screamed that he should. The flare of the camera flash kept him from losing himself in her. Reminded him they were together because of her divorce. It was an act. This wasn’t about what he wanted at all.

  When their lips parted, it took all his training to paint a smile on his face and help her to her feet. Evan nodded at the cameraman. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I promised my girl we’d go on every ride they have. You’ll have to follow along if you want more shots.”

  Taking Stasia’s hand, he led her out of the midway. He needed to get his head on straight, and that wouldn’t happen here, not with her—and the cameras—so close. Too many touches and he’d want to take her back to his room and forget all about their plan. At least on the coasters they’d be moving too fast for things to get out of hand. Because one thing was for sure, there’d be no more kissing tonight. Not if he didn’t want to become exactly who the media already thought he was. Not if he wanted to be the man his family needed.

  Chapter Three

  When Evan had kissed her, Stasia’s world stopped turning for a moment. There was nothing—nothing—except his mouth on hers. It had been magic. She wanted more. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anything in her life.