“Just goes to show,” she says, “that you don’t know me at all.”
“And whose fault is that?” I ask, my voice rough around the edges as I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her against me.
I don’t intend to kiss her.
I’m just trying to push her buttons, to see how far she’ll let this go before she calls “uncle” and admits she’s not who she’s pretending to be.
But I don’t anticipate the thrill of awareness that surges through me as her body brushes against mine. I don’t count on the way my pulse spikes as her arms go around my neck, making it so easy I can’t resist.
One second, I’m on the verge of calling her out as a fraud, the next, I’m crushing my lips to hers and kissing her like I’ve been dying to kiss her my entire life and not just since seven o’clock this morning. Our mouths collide, and electricity crackles through the air, lighting up the darkness behind my eyes.
My lips part, and her tongue meets mine with a perfect sexy sweetness that makes my pulse race faster. Her arms tighten around me with a moan, but she lets me take the lead, a hint of shyness in the way she threads her fingers into my hair.
It’s the shyness that makes me wonder…
Makes me doubt…
Is this really Sabrina? Or am I a fucking madman who’s pulled this entire twin-switch plot out of his ass and is making out with his actual fiancée?
Either way, kissing this woman is a bad idea. But if she’s Elizabeth, then kissing her is the absolute worst thing I could do. This is going to give her all sorts of wrong ideas and muddy the hell out of my “Please Dump Me and Get out of Here” message.
I have to do something to wreck the moment before it’s too late!
Wrenching my mouth from hers, I scramble to think of something to say—something awful, but not so awful that it will hurt her feelings or stain my conscience. But my lust-addled brain refuses to function. I’m off my game, too drunk with wanting her to think clearly about anything but how much I’d like to get her out of all her pesky clothes.
Short on ideas and swiftly losing the element of surprise, I do the first thing that pops into my head. I roll my eyes back in my head and go full fainting-goat, knees buckling as I careen toward the ground.
Lizzy calls my name and does her best to catch me, but I’m too heavy. Her hands slide ineffectually off my waist, and a moment later, I’m sprawled on my side in the pebbles, feigning unconsciousness and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
I have never felt like a bigger idiot—or like less of a man—than I do right now.
Really, brain? A fucking fainting spell? That’s all you’ve got? Could you make me look like more of an asshole?
But hopefully, my random spasm will work to my advantage. I can’t imagine any woman, no matter how nice or marriage-minded she might be, wanting to make out on with a man who pulls a reverse Sleeping Beauty every time they kiss.
Unfortunately, when Lizzy says, “Andrew? Are you all right? Andrew, can you hear me?” she sounds more terrified than disgusted, and I’m instantly flooded with guilt.
I don’t want to scare her, just scare her away, which means this faint is a flop. Now I have to do something to fix the “fix” before she goes running for help and brings the entire castle back with her.
But once again, my brain coughs out nothing but garbage. Garbage idea one, garbage idea two, and garbage idea three until I’m running out of time and have no choice but to pick one of the least garbagy options and run with it.
Sucking in a breath, I bolt into a seated position and shout, “Red robin!” at the top of my lungs.
“Oh my God,” Lizzy cries out as I startle her out of a squat and onto her backside in the pebbles beside me. She presses a hand to her chest as she breathes, “Are you okay?”
“Gallbladder. Biscuit. Baby napkin!” I shout, hoping she can’t see me wince in the dim light.
Baby napkin? What the hell is a baby napkin?
I have no idea, but then I’ve never put much thought into what it would be like to fake a case of Tourette’s Syndrome. I’m unprepared, as unprepared as I am to deal with my attraction to my fiancée and the entire Maybe Sabrina/Maybe Elizabeth situation.
God willing, I can get through the next ten minutes without causing further damage and spend the rest of the night reframing my plan of attack.
“Okay. All right… Everything’s all right…” She trails off, bringing a hand to my back, which she rubs in slow, comforting circles that make me feel like an even scummier scumbag.