And then she pulled back, walked away, and it’s been all I can do not to text her constantly or linger around the offices where the other interns are working to try and catch glimpses of her. I spotted her near the water cooler the other day, in a perfectly work appropriate top that still made me think all kinds of naughty thoughts.
I keep coming up with excuses to text her—first I had to compliment her on a small job the intern supervisor tells me was very well done. Then I had to ask for her preference on getaway locations (“outdoorsy but not too I’m-going-to-murder-you-in-the-middle-of-nowhere,” she’d replied, which led me to pick this amazing little seaside resort town over a cabin in the woods type). Then I had to find out her dress size, since obviously she won’t be packing anything we’ll be able to wear to a decent restaurant in town.
Then I had to ask about her favorite movies, and what she thought about the cars, and if she’s changed her mind at all on the whole business aspect of our business arrangement. The last one, I’ll admit, I asked during a moment of weakness late on night, after far too many replays danced through my head of her legs under that tight dress she wore to her first day, and the faint little sigh she let out when our lips parted from our kiss.
I couldn’t help imagining everything else I wanted to do to her in that car. How I wanted to drag her into the backseat and peel that dress off, and cover her with something far more appealing—my mouth. I’d lick and suck my way down to her breasts, cup them one after the other, all while I parted her thighs with my hand and made sure she was wet and ready to drive my thick cock next…
I’m getting hard against just thinking about it, and I have to shut my eyes and lean back in my desk chair and take a few deep, steadying breaths.
That’s when there’s a knock at my door, of course. My eyes snap open, and I find Dee there in the doorway, head tilted in confusion as she watches me.
“Um, you asked me to meet you here…” she says.
“In half an hour.” I dart a glance at the clock. No, I’m not mistaken. She’s just early.
Her cheeks flush. “Greg suggested I come early, in case…” She trails off, then, and glances out the open door, back toward the hallway. “Um, should I?”
I nod, and she steps inside, and the air in my office seems to warm by at least fifteen degrees. She’s wearing a much cuter dress today than her interview outfit, a clingy little sundress that reveals the enticing slope of her neck, the curve of her bare shoulders, and more than enough hints to guess at the perfect, perky size of her breasts beneath all that cleavage.
She perches on the edge of the chair on the other side of my desk, like she’s nervous to relax her muscles, let her guard down at all. I know the feeling. She makes me feel the same way.
“Uh, Greg suggested if I came by sooner, more people might see us talking, or waiting for the car out front. You know, to maximize, um, visibility.”
“I see.” I stand and step around to the closer side of the desk. From here, I catch the delicate scent of her perfume, mingled with the sweeter, headier scent underneath, the one that’s all her. “Good suggestion. So why are we closed in my office?” I arch a brow, a smirk dancing at the edges of my lips.
I don’t miss the way her breath catches, or the way her gaze dips to my chest, down past my abs, to the V of my groin. Then her eyes jump back to my face, her cheeks redder than ever. God, she’s sexy when she’s blushing. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. Of course.” She shoves to her feet. “I just thought we should…”
I reach up to catch the same stray strand of hair that escaped her messy bun last time, and tuck it behind her ear, making sure to let my fingertip graze her earlobe, ever so slightly. I notice the way she shivers, mouth parted in an almost inaudible sigh. “You thought we should catch up in private first?” I ask, eyes alight with mischief. “Maybe take up where we left off last time, and make sure our chemistry is believable?”
“Let’s save the chemistry for when we have an audience,” she replies, and with that, she sidesteps me, and reaches for the door handle.
Together we step back out into the lobby, and the moment we do, I catch her hand. She tenses for a moment, like she’s startled, and then relaxes into it, even curls her fingers through mine for an added touch.
Even just this faint touch of her soft skin is enough to drive me wild. Because I can imagine holding this hand above her head. Pinning her in place with one hand while I cup my other around her cheek, pull her in for a long, deep kiss; the kind of kiss that leads to my hand sliding under that dress of hers, and her undoing the button of my jeans…
I need to stop this train of thought before I make it difficult to walk around the office.
“So, I packed the things you suggested,” she says, her voice forcefully light. “Bathing suit, a nice dress. Any hints about where we’re going yet?”
I smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s not in the middle of nowhere.”
She half-smiles. “Okay, so one point in the not-murdery sounding direction. Any other details you’d care to share?”
“It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”
“Really? Why’s that, do you enjoy sneaking off there with all of your fake wives?”
She asks the last question a little too loudly, and I elbow her, even though so far it’s just us striding across the lobby and Caroline, our receptionist, in the distance eying our clasped hands with what I figure is more interest than usual. Good. If anyone’s going to immediately tell the rest of the office about what she just saw, it’s Caroline. She’s a little bit over-the-top, and a little bit still pissed at me for the drunken one-night stand we had years ago, but hey, sometimes that gossipy mouth of hers can work in your favor.
I turn away, back to Dee and her question. “Because I used to go there as a kid,” I say, surprising myself. “With my parents, back before Dad took over the company and started his now crazy work schedule.”
Her eyebrows rise. “You and your father are close?”
“Of course.” I frown at her sideways.
She lowers her eyes, a little embarrassed. “I just sort of assumed that, I mean, given the nature of this whole thing…” She squeezes my hand. “That you were being like, forced into something you didn’t want.”
“I’d say coerced more than forced,” I reply. “And you can care about family without agreeing to their every demand, no?”
She laughs a little at that. “I suppose.” Her expression turns wistful, and I remember what she told me last time about driving cars in the countryside with her father.
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you close to your family?”
“I was.” Her expression darkens, like a cloud, and I regret asking. The last thing I want to do is cause her pain. “My parents both passed away.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I stop walking.
So does she. She stares at her feet instead, and breathes in deep. “I just…” She blinks a couple of times and then forces a big smile. “Sometimes I just miss having them around, you know? But I’m doing well now. Just… You know, something like that, it makes you realize how important every day is. Live life to the fullest, and all that.” She flashes me a grin. “And never take for granted the time you do have with your family, even if they annoy the hell out of you.”
“Amen to that.” I tug her closer to me, and we start to walk again, our arms brushing. I can’t stop thinking about her smile, though. How bravely she goes through the world after something as devastating as her parents’ loss must have been.
I realize I’m watching her from the corner of my eye, checking to see if she’s okay, but she’s doing better than I am, staring through the front windows with widening eyes.
“Oh my God,” she says, interrupting my reverie on the importance of love and the pain of loss. “Is that a first-generation Andromeda?” Her voice shoots up an octave.
I laugh. “My father’s car,” I say. “I asked to borrow it for this trip.”
“We get t
o ride in it?”
No need to worry about how we’re going to attract enough attention to get noticed. Every eye in the building swivels in our direction now as her voice echoes in the lobby. And then she’s dropping my hand and peeling straight for the sliding glass doors to ogle the car. Which, I have to admit, with its cherry red paint and sleek design, is more than enough to distract anyone who’s into this sort of thing.
Watching her geek out, though, is doing funny things to my head. Funny things like making me imagine what she’d do if I caught her mid-step and swung her onto the hood of this car, then wrapped those lithe, strong legs of hers around my waist and pulled her tight, curvy body against mine.
Dee circles the car, and I follow her, trying not to focus too hard on the way her ass moves in that slim-fitting dress. Or how much better she’d look without that dress on at all…
“Is this original?” she calls, pointing out some of the features the Andromeda is known for.
I nod, and grin at her wide-eyed gasp of appreciation. “You know, not many people would get this excited over a car.”
“Not many people have ever gotten to ride in a car like this one,” she counters, and with that, she reaches down to lift her suitcase into the backseat, since the convertible top is already down.
“Oh no.” I step around the car and grab the bag from her before she gets it higher than waist-height. “That’s not your job.”
“Going to do all my heavy lifting for me this trip too?” Her eyebrows rise. “What a gentleman.”
“Me? No.” I snap my fingers. In an instant, one of the valets we have on stand-by at this lot appears at my side. “This is practice,” I tell her, as I pass the suitcase off to him to pack into the car. “Where we’re going, my family has a reputation, and there are things you don’t handle yourself. Thank you, Pierre,” I add in an aside to the valet, while slipping him a $20 tip clutched between two fingers.
“Valet service in your own parking lot?” She lifts an eyebrow at me. “That seems a bit extra, Quint.”
“This is Quint Motors. We specialize in extra.” With that, I open the passenger side door for Dee. “You’re going to have to figure out how to behave around my family if we want to pull this off,” I explain. Or rather, I don’t expect her to pick this up, and I expect it to cause friction all over the place as soon as we touch down in Greece for the family reunion. But I’m not about to let her in on that little plan—the plan for my entire family to hate the idea of her so much that they’ll be relieved when I “divorce” her, and apologetic for forcing me into such a rushed marriage in the first place.
With one last glance at the lobby—packed with people now, because Friday lunch hour has just begun, and everyone’s eager to race to the parking lot and away from here to whatever lunch plans they’ve made—I’m satisfied we’ve put in enough of an appearance for the day. I slide into the driver’s seat and steer us onto the highway up the coast, toward the tiny town of Newholme.
* * *
We pull into Newholme from the highway far above town just as the sun is setting out over the water. Dee gasps at the sight of it, and even I have to admit, this is a better sunset than usual in a town known for its sunsets. It’s like she’s my lucky charm.
The town itself looks picturesque, a bunch of candy-colored beach houses lining white sand beaches and the deep blue waves of the Pacific beyond.
“It’s so beautiful,” she sighs as we turn toward town, down a long road that leads to the little—okay, not so little—hotel where we’ll be staying for the weekend. Soon enough, we’re turning up the winding drive into the main complex, and her eyes widen, if possible, still further. “Jasper, you know we’re not on our fake honeymoon yet, right?”
“Ah, about that.” I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile.
Somehow, she sees right through me anyway. She narrows her eyes at me in the rearview mirror. “Tell me you didn’t book the honeymoon suite.”
“It’s good practice. Besides, the honeymoon suite is two rooms, so I can stay on the couch, assuming you’re still opposed to this business relationship becoming any more interesting business.”
She narrows her eyes still further. “I told you, I signed on to be your fake wife. Not a real one—and not some hookup either.”
I shrug one shoulder and toss her a grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She rolls her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Mr. Quint.”
“Oh, I do, future Mrs. Quint.” I flash her a wink, and she groans aloud. But when I look her way again, I notice a smile playing around the corners of her lips, before she wipes it away with a serious expression.
“Okay, so what’s the game plan?”
I can’t help it. I burst into laughter. “The game plan is, we go down into the town tomorrow and find you a proper engagement ring. Something gaudy enough to be believable. Then we… Well.” I gesture broadly toward the scenery below us. “Amuse ourselves for a couple of days, and return to the offices amidst a swirl of rumors. Hopefully. Greg has promised to speed a few of those whispers up, naturally.”
“Naturally.” She laughs. “What is he, your assistant or your pimp?”
“Little bit of everything, like any good assistant.” I smirk at her, and she peels off into laughter again.
God, I love that sound.
And fuck, I really shouldn’t.
We pull into the hotel drive, and this time, I’m pleased to note that Dee waits for the chauffeur to open her door before she tries bounding out all on her own. Not to mention, she doesn’t even reach for the trunk or her own bag. She’s learning quickly. Good.
Or, possibly not good, if she adapts a little too fast. Maybe I should stop offering her lessons on how to woo the high and mighty rich, and instead try to bring out her down-home country side as often as possible around my family.
But I find myself unable to help it. Even though I know she needs to not get along with my family, and our time at the reunion needs to be a disaster, part of me wants her to enjoy herself there. To have a good time. To impress my parents.
As the bellhop whisks our suitcases upstairs, she turns to me, then, suddenly suspicious says, “You said tomorrow we’d go to the jewelers.”
I nod. “This is a small town. Most of the shops have already closed for the day.”
“But, what are we going to do for the rest of tonight, then?”
I grin. “That’s where my aforementioned assistant’s planning skills come in handy.” I offer her a hand. She slides her fingers through mine, with only one hesitant glance at the distant clerk manning the hotel entrance. “Right this way.”
I lead her down the cobblestone road that winds down beside the hotel, leaving the car in the capable hands of the valet. He’s a friend of the family, and I know he’s far too familiar with my father to damage the car my dad’s known for.
The cobblestone road is foot traffic only, mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple of other lovebirds strolling along, arms linked and heads bent close to one another in conversation. In the distance, out over the water, we watch the sun sink toward the horizon, until finally the waves swallow it whole, and the sky is painted bright neon pinks and yellows and oranges in its wake.
“Sunset was my mother’s favorite time of day,” Dee volunteers, after we’ve walked a few more paces, nearly to the stairs down the side of the hill on which the hotel is perched. Halfway down is the turn-off we need. “She used to make me turn off the TV and come join her on the porch for every one. Every single night. Of course, our view wasn’t much compared to this one.” Dee laughs and gestures toward the ocean.
I shrug, arm brushing against hers. “Still the same sun, and the same waves to set over.”
She flashes me a surprised smile. “That’s what my mom always used to say. Well. Not exactly, but whenever I’d complain about not having the latest phone, or not having dresses as nice as the other girls at school… She’d say we all wake up under the same sky and fall asl
eep looking at the same moon.”
“Smart woman.” I smile.
“She was.” Dee’s eyes soften, as she holds my gaze.
I step closer, and for a second, I think maybe she’s going to crack. Let me through that hard exterior that I know she’s projecting because she wants to keep things between us strictly professional. Even if she’s tempted to do otherwise.
But then Dee turns away and steps back down the path, tugging me along after her.
“Right here,” I say, and she leads the way, drawing me down a side path off the main road until we reach my favorite restaurant. Nestled halfway down the hill into town, with a back porch that juts out over the hill, it looks like someone’s grandmother’s cottage. If not for the uniformed staff member standing beside the door, you’d mistake it for a private residence.
“What is this place?” she murmurs, as we step inside and the hostess waves us through.
“Restaurant owned by the same chef who runs Sicile, back in the city.”
Her eyes widen. “Isn’t he famous?” she whispers, just low enough for me to hear, as we trail after the hostess and out onto the back porch.
“Very,” I confirm, and then smile as we step up to the little two-top I reserved for us, with a view of the bay below, the lingering pink clouds from sunset, and the lights winking on all across town in cottage and villa windows. Poised here, we could already be on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea, it looks so much like Greece. “My father is close friends with him. Their great-grandfathers grew up together.”
She flashes me a smile. “Everything seems to be about family connections with you.”
“Everything is,” I respond, and close my menu without a glance. “We’ll both do the chef’s choice,” I tell the waitress, who appeared a split second after the hostess.
Under the table, Dee kicks me. “How do you know I don’t have any allergies?”
I hold up a hand to stall the waitress. “My apologies. Do you have any allergies?”