Author: Winter, Alexis
Date: 2019-04-17

Fake It

A Fake Fiancée Romance

Alexis Winter

Contents

What would YOU do for fifty thousand dollars?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

WANT TO READ MORE FROM ALEXIS WINTER?

Baby Mistake

How to destroy your career in three easy steps…

Chapter One

Chapter Two

About the Author

What would YOU do for fifty thousand dollars?

Turns out when you’re staring down the barrel of bankruptcy and possible eviction…you’ll do pretty much anything for some quick cash.

Even if that means pretending to be the fiancée to Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick himself, Cameron Styles: Chicago’s most successful, ruthless lawyer and douchebag extraordinaire.

I gave myself two rules

#1. Don’t fall into his bed.

#2. Don’t fall in love.

There’s one small problem…I’m REALLY bad at following my own rules.

Just when I think there’s a glimmer of hope he feels the same way,

I’m reminded of my place in his life.

Does true love stand a chance when I was hired to fake it?

Copyright 2019 by Alexis Winter - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

Chapter One

Samantha

The Chicago air has a sharp edge to it as I walk down the street toward my lonely apartment. My legs are numb, feeling like jello from the twelve-hour shift I’ve just finished, and my entire body is worn out and weak. Lifting patients takes a toll on my body, and dealing with the rush of the emergency room always makes me feel like I’ve run a marathon. The scent of coffee washes over me, and I feel myself perk up, excited to get a little jolt to help me get through the rest of my evening. It’s just after seven p.m. and normally I’d avoid caffeine this late, but I still have to fix something for dinner, finish up laundry, and go through the mountain of bills piling up.

I quickly dash into the coffee shop and stand in line, breathing in the sweet smell of energy as I wait. Finally, I step up to the counter and place my order: a large hot white chocolate mocha. The cashier quickly rings it up.

“That’ll be five dollars and sixty-eight cents,” she tells me with a polite smile.

I open my purse and pull out my wallet. When I open it, I find I only have four one-dollar bills. I set the wallet on the counter as I unzip the change compartment. Feeling a little embarrassed, I rush to count out the remaining dollar and sixty-eight cents. There’s already a large line forming behind me and my heart picks up with nervousness and anxiety.

I pour out the remaining change onto the counter and find the money I need with fifteen cents left over. I push the money her way, scoop up the change, and dump it into the tip jar before moving down the counter. My face feels hot and red with embarrassment. I should have put a little more thought into my impulse purchase and at least ordered a small coffee instead of a large. My bank account and money situation are getting harder and harder to avoid. I take my coffee and leave the store in a rush, all too ready to escape the coffee shop and everyone’s judging eyes.

Stepping back out into the brisk air, I take my first sip. The sweetness and warmth settle over me and my eyes nearly drift closed.

“Mmmmm,” I mumble against my cup, which I still haven’t pulled away from my lips.

I’m only a block away from the apartment when my cell phone rings. I pull it from my pocket and see El’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey bitch,” I answer cheerfully.

She giggles. “Where you at? I just got to the apartment and you’re not here.”

“I’m on my way,” I say as I round the corner, picking up my pace. “Where are you? Inside?”

“Duh, if you think I’m waiting out in that cold air, you’re crazy.”

I laugh. “Be up in a sec.” I pull the phone away and slip it back into my coat pocket.

When I step into the apartment, I place my coffee on the entryway table and hang up my purse and coat. I take my coffee and walk farther into the apartment, finding El in the kitchen, standing over my table where all the bills are piling up.

Her eyes jump up to me. “What is this, Sam?” She’s holding a handful of bills in each hand.

I let out a long breath, causing my shoulders to fall as I walk across the floor and sit at the table. “It’s nothing.” I start pushing the bills into a neat stack.

She takes a step back and crosses her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrow on me. “You told me everything was fine.”

“Everything is fine.” I stand, bills in my hand. “Now, what are we going to binge watch?” I slide the stack of envelopes into the bread box and spin back around to face her.

“Sam, be honest with me. Are you in trouble? Do you need money? I know I put you in a difficult situation when I left. I can give you some money.”

I grab my coffee off the table and head to the living room. “I’m fine, El. I don’t want your money.” I place my cup on the end table and pick up the remote to turn on the TV.

El follows me into the room and flops down on the couch. “You need help, Sam. Griffin and I can loan you money if you don’t want to just take it.”

I let out a long, frustrated breath and sit beside her on the couch. I turn my body toward El as I level my eyes on her. “Listen, I have been struggling a little since you left. But I’m not your concern and you shouldn’t have to give me any money just because you no longer live here. I’m working, and I’m making money. I just have to learn how to juggle it all a little better, that’s all. Now, can we please forget about all this and just watch Netflix and eat junk food like we’ve been planning all week?” I plead.

She presses her lips together like she has to forcibly keep her mouth shut, but she nods once.

“Thank you.”

I click on Netflix as I make myself comfortable. I bend down and remove my shoes, and that’s when I hear her clear her throat. I look up at her to see her eyes move from me, to the TV, and back. I look at the TV and see the error message.

“Haven’t paid your Netflix bill either, I see.”

“I did, I swear! I just…didn’t pay the internet bill.” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest.

“Just let me help you,” she begs.

“No. In fact, the only help I will accept from you is you paying for the pizza we’re going to order because I bought dinner last time.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, at least that’s something,” she mumbles, reaching for her phone to order the pizza.

Thirty minutes later, I’ve found an old DVD to put into the player just as she walks back into the living room with a big pizza box and a bag on top.

“What all did you order? That’s more than what you asked for on the phone, isn’t it?”

“Pizza, wings, cheesy bread, cinnamon poppers, and soda,” she answers, setting it all down on the coffee table in front of me.

I laugh. “I’ll get some plates, glasses, and napkins.” I stand and walk into the kitchen. I lean against the counter and take a deep breath, needing to clear my head. I hate that she had to buy dinner, even though it was her turn. But it’s something we’ve always argued over. It was our thing, and this time, I didn’t put up a fight. Honestly, if she hadn’t bought dinner, I’d be stuck eating whatever is in the fridge and pantry, which is nothing more than some questionable Chinese food from last weekend and Top Ramen.

Pushing myself forward, I get the needed items and head back to the living room where she has everything opened and spread across the table.

“Which movie did you find?” she asks, reaching for the glasses.

I sit on the couch and set our plates on the coffee table between us. “Dazed and Confused.” I smile.

She laughs. “Seriously? I haven’t seen that in forever.” She pours us each a glass of soda and hands one over.

I take it and set it on the end table next to me. “I know. I didn’t even know I still had it, but I figured I’d watch it again just to laugh at Matthew’s porn mustache.”

She giggles as she reaches for her plate.

“How’s the job going? Do you like it? Have you met any hot doctors?” She pulls her legs up onto the couch, with her growing belly holding her plate like a table.

“I like the job—love it, actually, though the hours are killing me. And every Friday, I have to work a day in the ER, which totally sucks all the life and energy from my body. But I have been talking with this sexy doctor. He’s only a couple years older than me, and he has blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect bone structure.” I close my eyes and savor the thought of him.

“Has he asked you out yet?”

I laugh. “No, he just started working there about two weeks ago. So far, we’ve talked and gotten to know each other a tiny bit. I mean, it’s a little hard to get to know someone on an ER shift, but we’ve been flirting back and forth. Nothing has actually happened yet. Not that I even expect it to. I mean, come on, he’s a doctor, and I’m nothing more than a nurse who empties bedpans and tells patients to stop pulling on their catheters. On a good day, I smell like a truck stop bathroom.”

She laughs. “Come on. You have more to offer than that and you know it. Besides, nursing is freaking hard! I couldn’t imagine having the patience and empathy it takes to care for the sick and dying day in and day out.”

“I always pictured this job being like Grey’s Anatomy or something, you know? I thought it would be fun, suspenseful, full of drama, and packed with beautiful people who take turns sleeping with each other. But so far, it’s pretty much been the exact opposite of that. I think I might try finding something in a private practice rather than a big hospital—someplace where I could be close with the other employees and patients. In the hospital, there are so many people coming in and out that you could work there for years and not meet them all.”

She nods. “You want something a little more quiet and personal?”

“Exactly! Plus private practices usually pay more and have better insurance.” I let out a long breath. “I just wish I didn’t feel so lost.”

Her brows pull together as she turns to face me. “What do you mean?”

I swallow the bite I just took. “I just want more than work and home. I have no life—and not just because the hours suck and I’m always tired, but because I literally can’t afford one. I mean, I have no internet, and I’m late paying the power, water, and credit card bills, plus there’s usually nothing to eat. The only thing that’s been paid is the rent, and that’s because it had to be paid or I’d be on the street. I just don’t want to struggle anymore. I want to be happy and find a boyfriend so I can have someone with me—someone I can talk to and vent to. Someone who understands and can comfort me. I miss being in a relationship. I can’t even remember what a penis looks like.”

Her bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “You will, Sam. You’re a great person. You’re beautiful, funny, and smart. You’ll find someone. And this struggle is only temporary. It won’t be like this forever.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “God, I hope not!”

“But if things get too bad, please come to me. You know I’m more than willing to help you out.”

I force a small smile. “Thank you, but you know that will never happen, right?”

She lets out a quiet laugh. “I know, but still…”

We both quiet down and focus our attention on the TV, but I’m lost in thought, wondering how the hell I’m going to keep myself alive. I’ve already let go of the things I can: the internet, cable TV, and just about every subscription I used to have. I haven’t even had my usual monthly pedicure, bar trips, or shopping sprees. I’m dead broke. I guess I should be thankful I have a job to keep my rent paid for the moment. Maybe, if nothing else, I can make some money by selling some of my nicer clothes, shoes, and purses.

A deep sigh leaves my lips, and it causes El to look over at me. I just press my lips together and wave her off, far from ready to admit that I need help.

When the movie is over, El helps me clean up the food mess, and we load everything into my fridge. I don’t tell her that I’ll probably be living off the leftovers for the next week. As she pulls her coat on, she looks up at me and her eyes light up. “Hey, I may be able to talk to Griffin and see if the hotel is hiring. It could bring in a little more income.”

I cross my arms over my chest as I lean against the wall in the hallway. “I already work twelve-hour shifts. I don’t have time for a second job unless it’s on the two days a week I already have off, or maybe even something I can do from home, but thanks. Maybe I’ll look online later and see if I can find one of those work-from-home scams.”

She rolls her eyes. “How are you going to do that with no internet?”

I stick out my tongue. “I hacked my way into the next-door neighbor’s Wi-Fi, thank you very much.”

She laughs loud, then pulls me in for a hug. “Don’t let yourself starve or freeze. Call me if things get worse.”

“I will,” I promise, hugging her back.

Chapter Two

Cameron

I reach up and move the rearview mirror of my Tesla to check my reflection. I straighten my Hermès tie and slide my Tom Ford sunglasses into place. I can’t hold back a smile when I see my reflection. I admire my perfectly white teeth and the boyish grin that can make panties melt. Every strand of my jet-black hair is in place, and my expensive suit and car make me look like a god among men. And let’s face it, I practically am. I have an extremely important meeting today and I not only need to look my best, but I need to be on my A-game.

I push the button and the car roars to life. The sound is magic to my ears. This car, the Tesla Roadster 2.0, doesn’t even come out until next year, but I’m one of the few lucky ones who got their hands on it early. Every time I get behind the wheel of this car, I feel like I’m on top of the world—like everything God created is sitting in the palm of my hand. And the best part is, I get the feel and speed of a sports car while still maintaining the image of being eco-friendly by having an electric car. In my line of work, many clients are afraid that the lawyer they hire will make their companies look bad. They want lawyers who share their values and morals. For example, a company that prides itself on being family-owned and operated doesn’t want to hire a lawyer who’s been fighting to defend a high-profile philanderer. I’m not morally bankrupt, but I’m also not exactly a choir boy.

Therefore, it’s important I keep a reputation that suits all potential clients. I try living a quiet life by staying out of the media. I volunteer and donate to charities, and I don’t pick up any client who is fighting for something that’s controversial: marijuana, abortion, or lowering the penalties on drinking and driving or drug possession. It’s not that I don’t have my own views on those subjects—I just prefer to stay neutral in the public eye.

I pull up to the office and hand off my keys to the valet. A big sign greets me: Styles, Schmidt & Fitz. The giant gold letters emblazoned on the all-glass building scream success, and since my name is first on that list, I’m treated like royalty the moment I pull up to its doors.

The door greeter opens the door for me and wishes me a good morning. I walk quickly into the lobby, headed straight for the elevator.

“Mr. Styles,” someone calls out from behind me, but I don’t stop or even pause until I step into the elevator. Whoever it is will just have to keep up with me if they want to talk that badly.

A woman jumps into the elevator at the last second, breathless from her jog across the lobby. “Mr. Styles, I’m Elizabeth Anderson, Mr. Smithfield’s assistant.” She holds out her hand and I quickly shake it.

“How are you, Ms. Anderson?” I ask, directing all of my attention to the beautiful woman in front of me. I can’t keep my eyes from taking in her long legs covered in a tight pencil skirt. Her white blouse has the first couple buttons open, giving me the perfect view of her luscious tits. Her eyes burn bright blue behind her black-framed plastic glasses. She gives me naughty librarian vibes and I’m totally digging it. I’m confident I could have her screaming my name inside of an hour, but seeing as how she’s the assistant to a big fish I’m trying to land, I have to be on my best behavior.

“I’m very well, thank you. Listen, Mr. Smithfield had a family emergency come up, so he won’t be able to make the meeting that’s set for this afternoon. He could, however, meet earlier, and he gave me a list of possible times.” She holds out a sheet of paper.

I take the paper and look it over, immediately annoyed because while I really need to sign him on as a client, I still need the morning to prepare for our meeting. I swallow down my annoyance as I look over the times—all for today, all before lunch. I laugh and look back at the woman I’m already picturing bending over my desk. “Is this all? We can’t meet tomorrow or even later this week?”

“No, I’m sorry. Mr. Smithfield’s daughter has gone into labor two weeks early. As you know, they are a very close-knit family, and he refuses to miss the birth of a grandchild. His flight home leaves at five this evening, so if you want to keep the meeting, it will have to be during one of those times.”

I bite my inner cheek. “Very well, then. Tell him to swing by at whatever time best suits his needs. I’ll clear my morning for him.”

The elevator rings and the doors open.

She smiles and takes back the paper. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. Mr. Smithfield is looking forward to the meeting.”

I nod my head. “And I am as well,” I assure her, stepping off the elevator. I stand there with a smile, making it obvious I’m checking her out until the doors close and cover her blushing cheeks. Then I spin around and rush up to Madison, my receptionist.

“Call Michael and Daniel, and tell them that the important meeting has been moved up to this morning. They need to get here NOW so we can prepare.”

She nods. “I will, sir.”

I step into my office and walk directly to the drink cart, pouring a glass of Scotch. Who gives a damn about the time? My whole career rests on this one client. I have to land it, not only for my firm, but for myself as a lawyer. Plus, one little glass to take the edge off won’t hurt.

I tip the glass back and swallow down the smooth liquid. The phone on my desk rings, and I rush to answer it. Setting the now-empty glass on the corner of my desk, I pick up the phone and flop down in my desk chair.

“Styles,” I answer.

“Cameron, it’s Michael, and I’m dialing Daniel now for a conference call.”

The line beeps and Daniel joins the line. “What’s this I hear about the meeting being moved up?” Daniel asks.

“His daughter is in labor, cutting his time here in Chicago short. He’s leaving for Georgia this evening. Can you two make it here in time?” I ask, looking at my watch.

“Cameron, you knew I wasn’t going to be able to make this appointment at all. I’m clear across the country,” Michael says.

I shake my head. “Fuck, I completely forgot about you being in Washington. What about you, Daniel?”

He lets out a deep breath. “I was just about to start packing up to be there this afternoon. No way I can be there any sooner. If the meeting is still going on when I land, I’ll swing by wherever you two are, but I’m sorry, man. You’re going to have to do this one on your own.”

I roll my neck, causing it to pop, but it feels a little better and helps to relieve some stress. “Great,” I mumble. “So what happened to, ‘We need to land this client. We have to do everything we can to get this client. All hands on deck for this one, boys’?” I quote everything they’ve both said about Smithfield.

“You know how important this client is to our firm, Cameron. We’re not taking this lightly, but what can we do? Neither of us is even in the same state as you right now. You can do this on your own,” Michael says.

“Yeah, you’re a fucking shark and you know it,” Daniel adds on. “I’ve seen you take on more and you’ve always come through for us, pal. Just have a drink, sit back, and relax. We know you’ve got this.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a deep breath. “I know I can do it; that isn’t my concern. I just wanted a little support is all, and a way to showcase the powerhouse that this firm is with all three managing partners here.” I lift my hand to pick up my glass, only to realize that it’s empty. It falls back to my lap.

“Keep us updated, Cam. And don’t doubt yourself. You’re better than the two of us put together,” Daniel says.

“Will do,” I mumble, hanging up the phone.

I stand and quickly pour another glass of Scotch before moving back to my desk to review the case files. I stare at the glass but decide against it and pour it down the drain. I need my wits one hundred percent intact for this one. Self-doubt isn’t something I struggle with, but what I lack in morals, Daniel has in spades. A family man with three daughters, he was going to be the ace up my sleeve to show Mr. Smithfield our firm shares his values.

An hour later, my phone rings, and I answer it to find Madison on the phone, announcing Mr. Smithfield’s arrival.

“Send him in, please,” I tell her before hanging up the phone and standing. I button my jacket and start for the door. Before I can reach it, it opens and Mr. Smithfield walks in with a big smile and his hand held out.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Styles.”

I slide my hand into his to shake. “Of course, Mr. Smithfield. How are you doing today? Has Chicago been treating you well?”

He nods. “It’s been a lovely trip, but I can’t wait to get home. I miss the warmth and comfort of the South, and I hate being away from my wife for this long.” I can hear the Southern drawl on his tongue.

I motion toward my desk. “Well then, let’s get started, shall we?”

He sits down and I take my place on the opposite side. “Before we start, can I have Madison get you anything? Coffee, tea, water, a snack perhaps?”

He laughs. “No, thank you.” He sits back and crosses his legs. “Actually, I’ve looked over all the paperwork you sent over and I think you’d be the perfect lawyer for us. I do have one concern though.”

My eyes pop up to his. “What’s that?”

For a second, he seems like he’s still deciding whether or not he even wants to bring it up. “As you know, my company is a wholesome family-owned and operated business. We treat each employee like family. We have a reputation to uphold and protect. We are a household name.”

I nod. “Of course,” I agree.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “We’re very picky about who we do business with, Mr. Styles.” His eyes flash from his phone, to me, and back. “You see, we don’t want to hire someone who doesn’t have beliefs similar to our own, and I’m worried that the press will get their hands on this and make it look like our beliefs match yours.” He leans forward and hands me the phone.

I take it and look at the image on the screen. It’s a picture of me leaving a nightclub with a woman on each arm. The article makes it seem like I’m some rich playboy who does nothing but drink and sleep with women.

I hand the phone back. “First of all, Mr. Smithfield, that article was a part of a smear campaign from a rival firm’s attorney. I was fighting against him in a big case, and he knew he was going to lose. He hired his own photographer to bombard me. He had the article written and then paid smaller publications and online magazines to publish it. And I have no problem with sending out a statement if this is ever brought to light. I assure you, my values match yours.”

He frowns. “While what you’re telling me about the article may be true, a picture doesn’t lie, Mr. Styles. Is this not you?” He flips the phone around.

“It is,” I agree with a nod of my head. “But it’s not me anymore. Look at the date on that article. It’s from four years ago. I was just a kid then. I was fresh out of law school, and between you and me, I had more opportunities available to me than any young man needed. Yes, I made mistakes, but I assure you, I have grown and matured since that article.”

He turns off the phone and places it back into his jacket pocket. “Is that so? Tell me, how is your life different from what it was that night? Have you gotten married or settled down with one woman?”

Fuck my life. Why does this matter so much to him? “I haven’t gotten married, but…” An idea hits me and I go with it before actually thinking it through. “I am getting married. I’m engaged, actually.”

His eyes widen and light up with happiness and surprise. “You are? That’s wonderful news! Congratulations.” He leans forward and shakes my hand.

I smile and nod. “Thank you.”

His phone rings, and he quickly pulls it back out and looks at the screen. He holds up a finger and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

I sit back in my chair to wait patiently.

“You did? That’s great. I might not miss it after all. Thank you.” He hangs up and then directs his attention back to me.

“Listen, Mr. Styles, my assistant managed to get me an earlier flight home, so I’m going to have to cut this meeting short. But how about you fly down to Georgia next week? Bring your future wife and make a nice little vacation out of it. We can meet up and go over the rest of my concerns then.” He stands. “You can even stay with my family and me. I have a guest house, so you’ll have plenty of privacy. And it will give us the time we need to make sure we’re a good fit for each other. How does that sound?” he asks, standing up.

I stand up, unsure of what to say. I can’t exactly decline his offer. We need him as a client. But can I accept? What about my soon-to-be wife? What can I even do about that? Hire someone?

“Sure, why not?” I reply, raising my hand to shake.

He beams a wide smile. “Wonderful. I’ll have my assistant book your flights and send over everything you’ll need. After messing with your schedule today, everything is on me. I insist.”

I smile and nod. “Thank you, Mr. Smithfield.”

He heads for the door in a hurry, leaving me alone. I flop back into my chair. “Fuck, why did I say that stupid shit?” I ask myself quietly.

I had already cleared my afternoon for our meeting, and when I agreed to meet with him sooner, I cleared my morning. I literally have nothing scheduled for the rest of the day.

I stand and leave the office. “Madison, I’m taking off for the day. Please take messages for me and forward anything important to my cell.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Styles,” Madison replies as I push myself toward the elevator.

Chapter Three

Samantha

I quickly clock out and grab my things before nearly running to the door. No way am I volunteering for another extra shift this week. I’ve already pulled in an extra eight hours of double time and my body feels like I’ve done nothing but run around a mosh pit all week. Every muscle is sore. My eyes are tired and strained. I would kill for a night out—a night where I don’t have to worry about money or stress about bills. Just a night to have fun and enjoy myself.

“Sam!” someone shouts behind me.

I almost don’t turn around, but then I do at the last second. I’m surprised to see Kenneth running up to me, aka Dr. McSexy…yeah, that’s my secret nickname for him. It’s so fitting that his name is Ken; he looks like he should be on Barbie’s arm.

I smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

He comes to a stop directly in front of me. “I was wondering what you’re doing tonight.”

I shrug, trying to act cool as butterflies dance in my stomach. “No plans. Another quiet night at home, I guess.”

He grins and it causes his blue eyes to light up. “Well, umm, I was actually wondering if you’d like to go out? Some of the staff are getting together tonight to have some fun and blow off some steam. We’re going to hit up Marcel’s for dinner and then go to a club for dancing and drinks or whatever. What do you say?” His smile hasn’t left his face, and it makes my heart pound in my chest at the thought of going on a date with him. Then again, he did say this was a staff thing, so maybe he’s not asking me on a date.

“I’d love to, but—” I start.

“It’s on me. Dinner and drinks. Come on. I see you around here. You work your ass off. Come have some fun.” He cocks his head to the side, like he’s secretly challenging me.

I laugh. “All right,” I agree, mostly because I’d love to get to know him better, but also because I’m in dire need of a drink or two to forget how shitty life has been to me lately.

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Sounds good. Here, give me your number and I’ll text you my address.” I unlock my phone and hand it over.

He quickly does so, and when he hands it back, his hand brushes mine. It shoots a spark through my hand and up my arm, causing a warming sensation to spread throughout my body, and judging from his grin, he did it on purpose.

“See ya later,” I breathe out.

He offers up one last smile and a wave before turning and walking away. I can’t hold back the happiness that courses through me as I push my way out of the hospital and down the street. All thoughts of my financial crises have completely vanished for a brief moment.

On my walk home, I pull out my phone and call El.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Oh my God. You’ll never guess who just asked me out!” I practically screech into the phone. “Or maybe you could since we just talked about it.”

She laughs and cheers. “The hot doctor?”

“Yes!” I nearly scream, jumping up and down as I walk down the sidewalk.

“That’s awesome, Sam! I’m so happy for you. It’s about time something good happened to you.”

“Yeah, and even though I’m super-excited for this date tonight, I’m still broke and ready to sell a fucking kidney if something doesn’t give. You know anyone who could sell a kidney for me? I could probably get my date to remove it for me,” I joke.

She laughs. “Sorry, but nope. I don’t have any organ traffickers on my call list. But I did ask Griffin about work for you. He said he doesn’t have anything right now, but he’ll keep you in mind if something comes up.”

“Tell him thanks for me.”

“I will,” she mumbles.

“What’s wrong? Your voice sounds off.”

“Well, it’s just that…I might have a way for you to make some extra money, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Spill it already! You know how broke I am. I’m ready to sell my soul,” I joke.

“I’m telling you, Sam, it’s very unconventional.” She’s dragging it out and making me a little nervous.

“Just spit it out, El. It’s not like it’s prostitution or anything, right?”

“Well, you know Griffin’s friend, Cameron?”

“No,” I state flatly, a little unnerved she didn’t refute my prostitution comment.

“He’s, like, the top lawyer in Chicago—the super-hot playboy? Anyway, he’s in a bit of a jam and needs a fiancée for a little while.”

I laugh, expecting her to say she’s joking, but it never comes. “Are you joking?”

“Not at all. It has something to do with getting a very specific client. This client is very family-oriented, and he wants to make sure the lawyer he hires has the same values.”

“That’s fucking weird, dude. I’m not doing that! I was joking about the prostitution thing, but this seems like borderline illegal.”

“You sure? You’d get a free trip to Georgia, all expenses paid. Plus, you’d be paid for every moment you spend with him, and trust me, you’d want that money. He’s a bit of a man-whore, and he’s rich and has the attitude to prove it.”

“He sounds terrible.”

She laughs. “I used to think so, but when you see him and Griffin alone, their friendship is very genuine and it’s brought me around. But I’m not the one who has to spend every minute with him either.”

I laugh. “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I have morals after all, and the idea of hanging out with a self-absorbed womanizer doesn’t sound like a good time.”

She laughs but agrees. “I figured. I just didn’t know how hard up you were.”

I snort. “Hard up, but not quite there yet. Hey, next time I need someone to pimp me out though, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” I’m half-joking but also a little annoyed she would even suggest something this outrageous.

“I gotta go, Sam. Don’t be mad at me. Call me and let me know how it goes with Dr. Sexy tonight.”

“That’s Dr. McSexy, and I will. Bye, El.” I hang up the phone and finish my walk home.

Letting myself into the apartment, I step into the hallway and remove my jacket and hang up my purse. At this point, I’m not even sure why I carry it. It’s not like there’s any money in there. I laugh when I think about how my purse is worth more than the money in my wallet—which happens to be zero. And I still have another week to go before I get paid.

The apartment is dark, so I carefully walk to the kitchen and flip on the light. Nothing happens. I flip it back and forth a few times before realizing the power has finally been cut.

“Fuck!” I kick the doorframe with my toe, then continue to jump around, whining about the pain I just inflicted on my poor foot.

I take my phone from my pocket and turn on the flashlight so I can see enough to walk through the dark kitchen. I open the bread box and pull out the stack of bills I hid from El. With both hands full, I take them back to the living room and open the curtains, letting the afternoon light pour into the room. I sit on the edge of the couch and search for the electric bill. With a deep breath, I remove the bill from the envelope and look down to see the red banner across the top that reads Final Notice. The balance is five hundred dollars, with a four hundred reconnect fee.

Nine hundred dollars just to get power in my apartment. Even if I used my entire check next week, I still wouldn’t have enough to pay the rest of my bills—not to mention, live without power for a week. I won’t even be able to take a shower since the hot water heater is electric.

I stand and pace the floor. My credit cards are maxed, and no lender would give me a new one with the amount of unpaid bills I have. My credit score must be in the trash by now. What the fuck am I going to do? I could ask El and Griffin for the money, but I’d never be able to pay them back. Even if they did bail me out of this mess, I’d only fall back into the same rut in a few months. I really can’t afford this place and all the bills on my own. Unless…

“No!” I say aloud as if anyone other than my cat Cocoa is home with me. I continue pacing back and forth trying to talk myself out of the most idiotic thing I know I’m about to do.

I grab my phone and call El.

“Hey, everything okay?” she answers.

“How much is he paying?”

“What?”

“This lawyer…how much is he paying to be his fake fiancée or whatever?”

She laughs. “I thought you said ‘no way’?”

“That was before I came home to no power. And I don’t have nine hundred bucks to get it turned back on. How much?”

She lets out a deep breath. “Sam, just let me give you some money,” she pleads.

I explain that even if she did give me money, this would just be a recurring thing until I moved into a cheaper place. I need the money to pay off my debt, and get me moved into a place I can afford on my single salary.

“I’ll have Griffin give him a call,” she finally agrees.

“Thank you,” I breathe out in relief.

I take a quick shower, using the last of the hot water, then go out into the hall with my hair dryer to blow-dry my hair. I apply my makeup by the open window, using the last bit of the day’s light before finishing up and lighting some candles.

I’m slipping into a black dress when my phone rings. Thinking it’s Dr. McSexy, I answer without looking.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Cameron wants to meet up tonight to go over the details,” El says.

“Tonight? Noooo! What about my date?”

“I know. I told him tonight wouldn’t be good for you, but he insisted. It’s a time-sensitive issue and he wants to make sure you two click as soon as possible so he’d still have time to find someone else if things don’t work out.”

I let out a long, drawn-out breath. “Okay. I’ll cancel my date. I’m sure my virginity will grow back soon anyway. Where does he want to meet?”

She quickly rattles off an address and a time, and we hang up so I can call Dr. McSexy and cancel. He sounds truly disappointed, and I must admit I am too. We agree that we’ll get together as soon as our schedules free up, and that we’ll catch up at work.

I’m walking into an upscale restaurant in a trendy neighborhood an hour later. The waitstaff is dressed in jackets and ties, and every table is filled with ridiculously good-looking people. What the hell kind of place is this? This is much more upscale than I’d imagined. I knew he’d pick someplace fancy—a way to show off his money, I’m sure—but I’m almost afraid they won’t let me inside.

“May I help you?” the host asks with his pointy nose in the air.

“Yes, I’m meeting Cameron Styles,” I say, eyes flashing around and landing on every man I think may be him. It’s only now that I’m realizing I should have Googled the man so I’d have some idea of what he looks like.

“Right this way.” He spins around and leads me through the restaurant. In the very back is a private room. He pulls apart the double sliding doors and motions for me to walk inside, where I find a single table. The room is quiet and decorated with lavish bouquets and candles. There’s a bottle of wine chilling beside the small two-person table. But Cameron is nowhere to be found.

I take a seat at the table and the attendant immediately pours me a glass of wine. I hold up my hand to stop him. “Shouldn’t I wait?” I motion across the table to the empty chair.

“Mr. Styles has called ahead and told us to give you everything you want. He’s running a bit late, but promises he’ll be here very soon. May I start you off with an appetizer?”

I press my lips together and shake my head, opting to stick with the wine. I have a feeling I’ll need to be drunk for this.

Chapter Four

Cameron

“I can’t believe you two talked me into this. When I mentioned hiring a woman, I just meant, you know, like an escort or something,” I say, straightening my tie as I look myself over in the mirror. For some weird reason, I actually feel nervous. Me! Nervous! I roll my eyes at how stupid I’m being.

“Sam is great. Way better than some random escort. And she really needs the money. You’re not only helping yourself, but you’re also doing me a really big favor by helping her,” El says, coming up to stand behind me, our eyes locking in the mirror.

“Why does it matter who you hire? A fake fiancée is a fake fiancée,” Griffin points out.

I turn around to address them both. “Because with an escort, I wouldn’t have to pretend to be interested or make conversation. With this woman, I’d have to do both—because if I didn’t, I’d have El chasing me around ready to rip off my balls at any given moment. And I’m quite fond of my balls, thank you very much.”

She laughs and my eyes cut to her.

She clears her throat then slowly begins closing the distance between us. She reaches up and straightens my tie. “I promise, you’ll love her.”

I flash her a grin. “Hey, Grif, can’t I just hire your fiancée instead?”

El lets out a puff of air and rolls her eyes just as Griffin snatches her away, pulling her against his chest like he needs to protect her. “She’s mine. Get your own.”

I press my lips together and shake my head disapprovingly. “What happened to sharing is caring?” I can’t hold back my grin.

“You can borrow my car, but not my fiancée and child.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that there’s a baby in there. I still can’t believe you let this dull dud knock you up.” I move my head from side to side as I look her over. El is small-framed, and now that she’s pregnant, she looks like she has a small beer belly. If you just glanced quickly at her, you would really have to look to notice she’s pregnant.

El shoots daggers at me as she holds up her middle finger.

I laugh. “I’m just fucking with you guys. Thanks for helping me out on such short notice.” I grab my jacket off the back of the dining room chair and pull it on.

“You’d better get going. I told Sam to be there at eight.”

I glance at my watch and realize she’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and there’s no way I’ll make it by then. I shrug. “I like my women to wait for me.”

“Cam, I swear, you will not treat her as your own personal call girl. You hear me?” She pulls away from Griffin and points her long index finger at me.

I hold up both hands, palms facing her. “All right. I’m going.”

I slip out the front door without another word. Sliding behind the wheel of my Tesla, I start the engine and hit the gas, taking off toward the city.

Traffic is terrible and I find myself walking into the restaurant thirty minutes late. I quickly lead myself to our private room in the back. When I step through the doors, I find a beautiful woman in a black dress standing like she’s preparing to leave.

“Samantha?” I ask, stepping up to her.

I can tell she’s annoyed with my tardiness, but she forces a smile onto her face. “Yes. Cameron, I presume.”

I flash her a quick smile as I pick up her hand and press a kiss to the top. “Please, forgive me for my late arrival. Traffic was terrible. Please, have a seat.” I motion for her to sit back down, and she does as I ask.

I walk around the small table and take my seat across from her. The whole time, my eyes never leave her. Her long, dark hair is hanging down her back, sleek and straight. Her blue eyes are the color of the ocean, but they hold a fire that hasn’t burned out from my apology. Her lips are thick and plump, and her skin is bronzed and glowing. She’s tall and thin, but has a round, luscious ass, curvy hips, and more-than-generous handfuls in her top. How is she not already taken? It boggles the mind.

“El speaks very highly of you,” I say as I grab the bottle of wine and pour myself a glass.

“Of course she does. She’s my best friend,” she states flatly, and it takes me by surprise. Suddenly, I’m understanding what’s wrong with her. She’s blunt and honest—not bad qualities by any means—but not always appreciated by everyone. People usually like their truths sugar-coated.

“I’m going to ask you a series of questions and I want you to answer honestly. After I’m done, you can ask your own. Sound fair?” I level my eyes on her.

She presses her lips together and nods. “Shoot,” she says, picking up her glass and taking a sip.

“You’re a very beautiful woman. Help me understand why someone hasn’t snatched you up already.”

She doesn’t get offended like I’d expect most women would. Instead, she bites her lower lip as she thinks about it. “Well, I’m not easy to get along with. I’m pretty damn stubborn and I like things my way. I’m not good with compromise.” She shakes her head while keeping her eyes on me. “I’m also very dedicated. When I’m working toward something, I tend to have blinders on. Men don’t like when they come second to a degree or work. I’m very honest. If you ask me a question, I’ll give you an answer, but I can’t guarantee it will be an answer you will like. I’m just me—love me or hate me. Either way, I don’t care. I guess, to be fair, I also haven’t made relationships a big priority. It’s kind of hard to do when you work sixty hours a week.”

I laugh. “Fair enough. With this job, there is a certain image I need to maintain. Why do you think you’d be the best pick for me?”

“For reasons I’ve already stated. I’m dedicated. I know I said that I like to do things my way, but that doesn’t mean I can’t follow directions. This would be a job to me, and every job has rules and expectations. I may not be the best pick for you, Cameron, but I know I can do the job.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a nurse,” she answers.

“If I give you this job, you’ll need to accompany me on a trip. Would you be able to take some time off?”

She leans forward with a serious look on her face. “You pay me enough, I’ll quit that job right now.”

That answer makes me laugh. “Okay, your turn.”

“Why do you need a fake fiancée?” she asks without missing a beat.

“I own the top law firm in Chicago. To be completely frank, I’m the best. My firm has been trying to land a certain client for years, and he’s finally within our reach. The only thing is, he’s a family man, and he’s found risky images of me online. I need to correct his assumptions of me, show him that those days are in my past, and help him see that I’m a changed man since I met and fell in love with you.” I flash her a smile.

“Why don’t you already have a woman in your life who could do it? Why do you need me?”

“I have plenty of women in my life. However, I can’t trust any of them to leave when the time comes. I have no interest in dating or marriage; I’m a single man who loves the bachelor life.”

“What does this job entail?”

Finally, getting to the specifics. I straighten my jacket as I lean forward. “If you accept this job, you will be required to act as my fiancée in every capacity. You will need to come with me to Georgia for a few days. While we’re there, you will be required to hold my hand, look at me with goo-goo eyes, and act head-over-fucking-heels in love. We’ll talk and share secrets while people are looking. You’ll be required to stay with me, so we’ll be sharing a space. You will attend all functions I attend, and lastly, you will move into my home until I’ve closed this case with my client. Once I land the client, we can fake a breakup, at which point you’ll no longer be working for me. Do we have a deal?”

“Live with you?” Her eyes grow wide.

“Trust me, I don’t like the idea either, but we have to sell this. You’ll have your own room and will be free to come and go as you please as long as there isn’t a function we have to attend. You’ll still have your job, and you shouldn’t have to take any extensive time off from it after the trip to Georgia.”

“And how much are you going to pay?”

I look her over, trying to guess how much she’d want even though I already have a number in the contract. “Fifty grand. Half when you move in, and the other half when you move out.”

“Fifty grand?” she nearly shouts.

I laugh and nod once. “I’ve already had a contract drawn up.” I reach down and pick up my briefcase. Opening it, I pull out the envelope and hand it over. “You can read it over, of course, but it states everything we just discussed.”

She takes it and nods.

I close my briefcase and place it back on the floor. “Now, why don’t we enjoy our dinner and drinks? Then I’ll take you home to look over everything, and you can get back to me tomorrow with your decision.”

“Okay,” she replies, looking a little surprised and lost. “Wait, so how do you expect me to do this—like, be a fiancée to a guy I don’t even know?”

I shrug, “I dunno, just fake it.”

She smiles and I practically see the smart-ass comment forming in her head before she even says it.

“Ah yes, faking it. You must be used to that, huh?” She bursts out laughing as she takes a large gulp of her wine.

Dinner is mostly quiet. I ask her questions about her recent graduation and job, and she asks me questions about my firm. She asks simple questions about where I live, where I’m from, and how Griffin and I know each other. By the time dinner is done, I almost feel like I’ve made a new friend—not a best friend, but a person who knows me better than my waiter.

I pay for our dinner then lead her out to my car. When the valet pulls it up front, her mouth drops open and her eyes grow wide.

“What the hell is that?” she asks, breathless.

I smile. “This is my baby.” I click the button and the door opens for her. I love the way women get turned on when they see this car.

She slides into the leather seat and looks up at the panoramic glass top. I can’t hold back my chuckle as I walk around to get behind the wheel.

When I pull out into traffic, she finally asks, “What kind of spaceship car is this?”

A smile forms. “This is the Tesla Roadster 2.0. All the luxuries of a sports car, while being eco-friendly. Just doing my part to save the environment,” I say with a wink.

“You don’t strike me as the green type.”

“I’m not,” I reply. “But many of my clients are. People are afraid that the lawyer they hire will make them look bad if they don’t share the same values.”

“Hence the fake fiancée,” she mumbles.

I shoot her a wink and a smile.

She directs me to her apartment and I stop in front. Turning to her, I lean in.

She freezes with her lips parted, unsure.

I shrug. “Might as well make sure you’re not going to vomit from having to kiss me. Check our chemistry, if you will.” I flash my best panty-melting grin.

A look of disgust spreads across her face as she leans away from me. “Uh, nice try, but no thanks. I haven’t signed shit yet, dude.”

I can’t help but laugh at her snarky attitude; this is going to be fun. “You wouldn’t buy a car without test-driving it would you? I’d hate for our first kiss in front of the client to be a disaster.”

“So this is how you get women to go out with you, huh? You pay them?” She looks at me harder. The disgust isn’t going away, but she finally relents, leans in, and presses her lips against mine in an unceremonious way.

Her mouth is tight and firm at first, but slowly, her lips soften and allow my tongue to slip inside. Her hot tongue tangles with my own, and it sends a shiver down my spine, causing me to physically hold myself back.

It’s only been a couple weeks since the last time I was with a woman, but this kiss tells me it’s been far too long already. All I want to do is haul her ass back to my place where I can have my way with her, but this is business. And I never mix business with pleasure. Not until the business part is over with, anyway.

I break the kiss and pull away. We’re left breathless as we stare at each other, both pleasantly surprised by the connection we have.

“Well, no vomit, so that’s a good thing,” she says, breaking the silence.

I laugh and shake my head free of these confusing thoughts. “Indeed it is. Have a good night, Samantha. I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow.”

She offers up a small smile and a nod before stepping out.

I sit in the darkness of the car, watching her long, tan legs as they walk up the steps and enter the building.

A part of me wonders if El did this to me on purpose—if she and Griffin have a bet on how badly I’ll fuck this up. Griffin knows I don’t play where I work. Maybe he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist?

I know one thing: I want her for more than a fake fiancée. I won’t let her turn down this job. Why I’m so determined to torture myself with a gorgeous woman who not only doesn’t want me but is off-limits is beyond me. This is by far the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Chapter Five

Samantha

I let myself into my apartment and head straight to the living room. I drop my coat, purse, and the envelope Cameron gave me onto the couch before lighting candles throughout the room. Once there is enough of a soft glow, I sit down, pull a blanket around myself, and start reading over the contract. My mind keeps bouncing back to that kiss. I know it meant nothing, but my body certainly didn’t think so. I sure as hell did not expect him to be so hot. The problem with guys like him is they know they’re hot. They’re cocky, arrogant, and everything turns into an exhausting game of sexual innuendos. I finally push thoughts of the kiss out of my head and get back to the contract.

There is a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, but from what I can gather, it seems to explain exactly what he’s already told me. I will need to live with him from the time I sign this contract until he’s closed the deal with some major grocery chain. I will attend all public functions, and even some date nights to maintain the appearance of our relationship, and then, of course, the payment: twenty-five grand up front once my belongings are in his place, and the other half when I move out.

This deal is too good to pass up. This will give me the money I need to find a more affordable place, pay off old debts, and save money for the future so this never happens to me again. If I do this right, I’ll be set. I thought I had a hard limit with turning myself into a high-priced escort, but turns out, I don’t! There is nothing in the contract about actually having to sleep with the guy, and it even states I’ll have my own room in his house, with the ability to come and go as I please. I won’t be a prisoner to this contract. It’s nothing more than pretend and a few kisses and cuddles to sell our relationship to any onlookers.

I pull out my phone and call El.

“Hey, how’d it go?”

“I’m going to do it,” I blurt out.

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised.

“I can’t not do it, El. Fifty grand! FIFTY! GRAND! Do you know what I can do with fifty grand?”

She laughs. “I have an idea.”

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m doing it. Also, you could have told me how hot the dude was in detail. I know you mentioned he was hot but he is HOT! I played it cool, but when he introduced himself to me, I’m pretty sure my nipples got hard.” El bursts into a fit of laughter as she relays what I just told her to Griffin in the background.

“Good. It will give you the money you need, and Cam, yeah, he’s hot as hell but a bit of a dick sometimes, but I know he respects Griff and me too much to cross a line or be a complete asshole to you. We’ve gotten to know each other a little bit since I moved in with Griffin. And I’m telling you, he will take care of you. However, if he does do anything to screw this up, you’d better tell me because I will castrate him so fast!”

I snort. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” I mumble, wondering if that’s the truth. I mean, I’ve been on my own for, what, three months? And already, I’m broke with no power and a nearly empty fridge.

“I’m going to text him and tell him the news.”

“Good luck,” she practically sings before hanging up.

I quickly type out a text message: I’m in. Let’s do this.

I drop the phone into my lap as I look around my dark apartment, wondering if I’m making a mistake, but also amped up—ready to end this stage of my life: the stage where I go broke and nearly homeless.

My phone chimes from my lap and I quickly pick it up to read the text.

Good. I’ll leave you to the last night of your ordinary life. I’ll send a moving truck in the morning.

I stare at his message and a sense of fear settles over me. What am I doing? Something I don’t want to do, but something I need to do.

I spend the rest of the evening packing up my things and making piles: stuff I’m taking with me, and stuff I’m leaving. I’m sure he doesn’t want to store my furniture, and since it was all picked up from flea markets or the side of the curb, I’m not out much money if it ends up getting thrown out in the move. When all this is said and done, I’ll have enough money to actually buy new, decent-looking furniture instead of having a pile of mismatched stuff.

Instead of going to my bed to sleep, I curl up on the couch. I’m nearly asleep when Cocoa, my cat, jumps up and curls herself in a ball against my stomach. Her heat sinks into me and her soft, fluffy fur relaxes me into a deep sleep.

I wake in the morning to someone banging on my door. I quickly jump up and race over to it, needing to stop the loud noise so early in the morning. I don’t even think to look myself over or attempt to make myself more presentable.

In a hurry, I unlock the door and throw it open to find Cameron’s smiling face on the other side. His dark eyes look me up and down. “Nice,” he says, handing over a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” I mumble, taking the coffee and letting him in.

He follows me back to the living room and I catch a glimpse of myself in a nearby mirror. My black mascara and eyeliner from last night are smudged around my eyes. I’m still in my black sequin dress, but last night I took off the heels and replaced them with my black mid-calf Ugg boots.

“You always this beautiful when you wake?” he asks, sitting on the couch.

I glare at him as I sit beside him. “You always keep your dick in your personality instead of your pants?” I can see my harsh comeback was completely unexpected, and it takes him off guard. “Sorry, that was out of line. I’m not a morning person—especially after I’ve put in so much overtime at work.”

He ignores my comment and apology. “That reminds me,” he says, his tone full of determination and assertiveness. “I made a few calls last night. From now on, your work schedule will match mine. I need you available. You also have next week off for our trip.”

“You called my boss?” I ask, a little dumbfounded and frankly pissed off.

He nods. “I know you said you’d quit, but let’s face it, no one can live off fifty grand for the rest of their life. You’ll need that job when this money runs out.”

I laugh half out of annoyance. “Thanks, I guess.” I feel my brows pull together. Now I’m wondering if I’ll still be seeing Dr. McSexy with my new schedule.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, not at all picking up on how weird and awkward this is for me.

He stands and claps his hands. “We should probably get going. The moving truck will be here any minute.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, standing as I set my coffee down on the table.

“Is all this going or staying or…?” He motions around the room.

“All the furniture is staying. I’m only bringing that stuff there.” I point at the wall lined with suitcases, boxes, and trash bags from when I ran out of boxes.

I pick up the pet taxi crate and put Cocoa inside.

“Whoa,” he says, wide-eyed as he backs away. “What’s that?”

I laugh. “That’s my cat, Cocoa.”

He shakes his head. “No, no animals.”

I shrug. “I’ve had this cat since I was fifteen. If she doesn’t go, I don’t go.”

“Fine. I’ll find someone else.” He turns to walk out of the room. “I’m sorry this won’t work out.”

“You know, it’s already Saturday and you leave for your trip on Monday. That doesn’t leave a lot of time to find someone and get packed up. And no time for her to move in with you,” I say, causing him to stop. “But hey, good luck,” I say as I smack his arm.

I see his shoulders fall from the deep breath leaving his lungs. He spins around, jaw tight and angular. “Fine, but it stays in your room only. I have very nice things and I refuse to have my house ruined by a cat that stains carpets, scratches, and sprays.”

I snort. “First of all, she’s a ‘she,’ not an ‘it,’ and second, female cats usually don’t spray, especially when they’re spayed. Plus, Cocoa is litter trained and declawed.” I scrunch my nose. “My mean old parents ripped her claws out when I was too young to stop them.” I lift the cage to peek inside. “How can you be a cougar with no claws?” I ask Cocoa.

He laughs. “A cougar?”

I bring my attention back to him. “Yeah, you know, a sassy and fabulous older female who’s still sexy enough to bring in males half her age? Cocoa is a cougar. I’ve caught her getting it on with the neighborhood cats,” I joke.

He scrunches up his face. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

I smile. “And that’s why this will be fun.” I pick up my coffee and walk to the door with Cocoa.

We load up in Cameron’s car and I hold Cocoa’s crate on my lap. He slides behind the wheel and pulls out into traffic. He has no idea I’m watching him, and I’m thankful for that because his ego doesn’t need to get any bigger. But something about him is so attractive to me, and it’s not just his obvious good looks. I don’t know if it’s the giant EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE stamp across his forehead or the fact that I know he could shatter any woman’s heart into a million pieces. Put all that together and he’s exactly the kind of emotionally damaged dude I’m usually attracted to, complete with fragile masculinity. However, I know if we were to meet on the street, I’d be turned off the moment he opened his mouth and started talking about his money, fancy car, or royalty status he likes to believe he has.

That said, I’ve always been attracted to a man who works hard but cleans up nice, and it’s easy to see he’s that type of man. His black suit fits him to a T, and looks like it costs more than my life. It hugs his frame in all the right places, showing off his strong biceps, chest, and narrow waist. His skin is practically glowing. I mentally laugh at that. His skincare products probably cost more than my rent.

“Can Chocolate stay in the car by herself for a little while?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Her name is Cocoa. Why?” I ask, turning to look at him.

“Well, no offense, but if you’re going to be my fiancée, you need to look the part.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling my face pinch.

He lets out a deep breath, almost like he already knows he’s going to offend me. “I’m going to take you shopping.”

“I don’t have money to shop!”

He laughs. “It’s all on me. It won’t come out of your money.”

I turn my head back to the windshield. “Whatever. Consider me your own personal Barbie.”

I cannot express the craziness of his world. I’m dragged around from store to store. Clothes, shoes, coats, and accessories are basically thrown at me to try on. There are formal dresses that cost more than my first car, and name brands I never thought I’d be allowed to touch, let alone wear. And I’m bombarded with more luxury makeup and skincare products than I thought possible. Everything is picked out for me, paid for, and bagged. When I take my seat back in the car, I’m winded from the quickness of it all.

Cam smiles. “So, what’d you think?”

I look at him, speechless. “That’s insane.” I smile. “I am loving these sunglasses, though.” I lower them so I can look at him over the top, then push them back into place.

“We have one more stop.”

“God, do I have to go to the salon too?”

He laughs. “I already have it booked for you tomorrow.”

“I was joking,” I point out.

“I wasn’t. Your day is filled with hair, makeup, nails, and a wax.”

“A wax?” I yell.

He fights to hold back his grin, but he can’t pull it together. “I promise, it’s not as bad as one would think.”

“How do you know? You get waxed?”

He nods once. “They give you wine to help you relax, and there’s numbing cream. I promise, it doesn’t hurt and you might end up liking the effects.”

I snort. “I knew this experience was going to be painful, but not physically!”

He lets out a chuckle under his breath before pulling over. I look out my window and find we’re at Tiffany & Co.

“Jewelry?”

“If we’re engaged, you’re going to need a ring,” he states as he’s climbing out.

I quickly get out of the car and rush to his side. “You’re actually buying me an engagement ring?”

He holds up his index finger. “Borrowing, to be precise. You WILL have to return it. I’m very close friends with the owner.” He opens the door and allows me to walk inside.

I’m so poor, I’ve never even walked into this store. I’ve only ever seen it in movies. And film doesn’t do it justice. Everything is bright, shiny, and beautiful. I think my mouth is hanging open and I know my eyes have doubled in size as I gaze around me at all the sparkling diamonds.

Cameron grabs my arm, hooking his hand around my elbow. “Focus. We’re on a mission,” he tells me, pulling me through the store. I stop when a gorgeous princess-cut champagne diamond ring catches my eye. It’s not over the top or the size of a boulder;t it’s understated, elegant, and unique.

“Look at this one—it’s so gorgeous!” I lean over the counter, admiring the detail in the ring.

He looks at it briefly before tugging me along. “I just said focus. We don’t have time for window shopping. Let the professionals pick out the right one.”

The next thing I know, we’re in a private back office. He pulls out a chair for me and I take a seat. He sits down beside me and leans in. “This is our trial run, Samantha. These people see a lot of newly engaged couples. If anyone could sniff out the fact that this isn’t real, it’s them. So let’s see your acting skills, baby.” He grins and shoots me a wink.

I want to scoff and roll my eyes, but the door opens and my expression, which was one of annoyance, turns to one of blinding happiness. My lips turn upward into a wide smile.

“Good morning,” a man says, walking into the room. “Good to see you again, Cameron.”

Cameron stands and shakes his hand. “How have you been, Terrence?”

“Wonderful,” he replies, looking down at me. “Now, tell me about this beautiful woman.”

I stand and laugh, suddenly happy that the girls in the other store fixed my face and removed the black streaks of eyeliner.

“This is my fiancée, Samantha,” Cameron says, placing his hand on my lower back.

I hold out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Aren’t you stunning,” he says, bending to press his lips to the top of my hand. He turns to face Cam. “I understand why you’ve kept this one a secret. She’s a doll.”

I blush from the compliment.

Cameron laughs. “She is, and she keeps me in line.” He motions for me to take my seat. “Now, Terrence, what do you have for us today?”

His eyes grow wide as he places his elbows on the desk and leans forward. He studies me for a long moment. “Something about you calls to me, Samantha. You’re a timeless, classic beauty, but you also love over the top. Am I correct?”

I laugh, glancing between Cameron and Terrence. “Well, I do love elegant and simple, but you know my Cammy here. He won’t let me settle for anything under four carats.” I beam proudly as I look over at him lovingly. I make sure to lay the sickly-sweet sarcasm on thick.

His jaw flexes in annoyance, but he forces a smile. “That’s right. Nothing but the best for my bride-to-be.”

Terrence smiles wide as he glances between the two of us. “I have the perfect ring. You, my dear, are going to love me,” he says to me as he spins around and picks up the phone. “Jeanie, honey, would you mind terribly if I asked you to fetch me the Novo? Mm-hmm, the one in the vault.”

He hangs up the phone, and when he turns back to us, his face is glowing. “Now, Cameron, you know me…” He smiles.

“I do,” Cameron agrees.

“This ring is to die for! But it is pretty pricey. I completely understand wanting to try it out, but I would need a deposit.”

“No problem,” Cam says, waving his hand through the air.

The door opens and a woman walks in with her hand flat, holding the ring holder in her palm as if she were a hand model. She walks around us and the desk, and Terrence opens the box. The moment the light hits it, I’m blinded by its glow.

He holds out his hand, showing me the ring between his fingers. “This was inspired by the famous Tiffany diamond. This yellow center diamond is set inside four tapered prongs with a micro-pavé-set diamond band.”

The band itself is platinum with white diamonds along the top, andt the prongs holding in the yellow diamond are gold. It’s massive with its two-carat sizing.

“How much does a ring like this cost?” I ask, taking the ring and sliding it down my finger.

“This particular ring is $1.2 million. The price can go up as we make adjustments.”

“One million dollars?” I yell, my mouth dropping open. “For a ring?” My body wants to shoot up from my chair, but every muscle is frozen in place. Christ! I can’t even pay my damn power bill on time; how am I supposed to be responsible for something this expensive? I have to convince myself that it’s fine. I’ve never actually lost anything worth this kind of cash—I’ve got this! Then again, I’ve never touched something this expensive.

He nods. “That will be a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit, Cam,” Terrence tells him before looking at me. “Is that the one?” he asks.

I turn and look at Cam, holding the ring up to my face. “What do you think, honey? Is this the one?” I ask, eyes widening as a smile tugs at my lips.

I can see how hard he’s working to remain calm, but he smiles. “The question is, do you think it’s the one?” he says through gritted teeth.

I look from him, to the ring, to Terrence, and back. Nodding, I reply, “It is!” I leap into his arms and press my lips against his. He’s surprised, but he kisses me back after a moment of being frozen. His hand lands on my hip, pulling me closer, and I swear I feel him harden beneath me before he breaks the kiss and gently pushes me away.

His face flushes as he laughs. “Looks like you did it again, Terrence.”

Terrence laughs and claps his hands. “Of course I did!” he laughs out. “Now, will that be cash or ?”

Chapter Six

Cameron

“I swear to God, if you lose that ring…” I grumble as I escort her out of the building and into the car.

She giggles. “Oh, chill out, Daddy Warbucks. I’ve never lost anything expensive in my life,” she says, brushing off my anger as her gaze remains fixed on the ring.

“To be fair, I think we have very different definitions of the word expensive.” I close her door and climb behind the wheel.

As I pull my seatbelt around me, she turns the crate in her lap so she can look inside at the cat. “What do you think, Cocoa? Did Mommy do well, or did she do well?” she asks the cat, holding up her hand to show off her ring.

“You are absolutely crazy, you know that?” I tell her, pushing the button and starting the car.

She doesn’t reply—just rolls her eyes.

After a twenty-minute drive, I’m pulling up to my house to find the moving truck already parked out front.

“Wow, that was fast. Had I known you were planning on buying me a whole new wardrobe, I wouldn’t have packed so much.” She offers up a smile.

I shake my head. “Well, I couldn’t drag you to events and out-of-town trips dressed head to toe in Gap, now could I?”

She laughs. “You’re giving me credit. Most of my stuff is from Old Navy.” She sticks out her tongue.

I want to smile at her playfulness, but I hold it back, wanting to appear more serious. This isn’t social; this is business. Besides, I’m not sure how much she is actually joking or if it’s the kind of laughter that comes from stabbing someone with an ice pick.

We both climb from the car and I lead her toward the front steps. I open the door and pause to let her walk through, but after several moments of waiting, I finally turn to look for her. How could I have lost her already?

I turn to find her next to the moving truck. She has the cat crate in one hand and a box in the other.

I scoff and walk up to her, taking the box and placing it back on the truck. “You do not move boxes. That’s what these men were hired to do.”

She shrugs. “I just figured since they’re my things, I should help out.”

I take her now-free arm and wrap mine around it as I lead her into the house. “People won’t believe our relationship if you insist on being treated like an ordinary person. Understand?”

Her brows furrow together. “You mean I actually have to act like a spoiled, better-than-everyone-else princess?”

I laugh at her description. “Now you’re getting it.”

Her feet stop moving when we reach the center of the foyer. Her mouth drops open as she gazes around the room. “You live here? Alone?”

I nod. “The house is fully stocked on help, so you won’t have to lift a finger. Your laundry will be washed, pressed, and put away. All meals are prepared by my own personal chef and served in the dining room, and the maid will come into your room in the late morning to straighten up and make your bed.”

Her eyes flash to me, her mouth still hanging open. “All of this…for just you?”

I nod. “That’s right. I don’t have time to do all the cooking, cleaning, and washing. Follow me and I’ll show you around.” Without waiting for a reply, I head up the stairs.

I take her to her room first. It’s your typical guest bedroom with a king-size bed, walk-in closet, and full bath with shower and jacuzzi. “There’s also a remote in the top drawer of the bedside table. It controls the TV, the shades, and the lights.” I turn to look at her spinning in circles, taking in every aspect of the room.

“What TV?” she asks, throwing herself onto the bed.

I open the drawer and pull out the remote. I push the button and she jumps when the small white cabinet at the foot of the bed opens and the TV slides up into place.

“Whoa! That’s amazing!”

I chuckle. “Yes, quite entertaining. Now, should we continue on with the tour?”

She follows me through the house and I show her my room, the other bathrooms, my office, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, and the back patio where there is a pool and a hot tub. By the time we’re finishing up, Gordon, my personal chef, is placing lunch on the table.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, leading her back through the dining room.

“Starving!” Without being shy, she plops down at the table and starts devouring the food on her plate.

I laugh and shake my head. “I see you’re not one of those shy girls who pretend they don’t eat.” I pick up the cloth napkin, shake it out, and place it on my lap.

She snorts. “No way. Food is not my enemy. We go waaaay back. But it doesn’t surprise me that your only experience with women is the superficial waif-type who starves herself. It would probably do you some good to expand the company you keep.” She picks up a roll and tears off a big bite, shoving it into her mouth while staring me dead in the eye.

Another quiet laugh escapes and I shake my head. “Good to know.”

“So, when do we leave on this trip?” she asks around another giant mouthful of food.

“Tomorrow you’ll be busy getting groomed, then we leave first thing Monday morning.”

“Groomed?” She cocks an eyebrow at me. I was hoping she’d miss that little comment.

“Yes. As I mentioned earlier today, I figure a day at the salon will make you feel fresh for the trip. Just a trim, color touch-up, waxing—all the normal stuff,” I say nonchalantly. She doesn’t look convinced, but she addresses the other issue that’s clearly on her mind.

“Okay, I’ll address that in a minute, but first, about our flight—by ‘first thing’ you mean what, exactly?”

“We’ll leave here at six for the airport.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Six?” she asks loudly, almost a yell.

I nod. “Something wrong?”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s an ungodly time. I mean, is the sun even up by then?”

“Not a morning person, huh?”

“You might want to book a marching band to come through my room to wake me.” She shoves in a forkful of rice. “Oh, and watch out, I throw things.”

“You throw things?” I feel my eyebrows lift on their own.

She nods. “Yeah, you know, just things that are close by: the alarm clock, remotes, bottles of water. Anything within reach, that is. I usually won’t get up to find something to throw. But,” she meets my eyes and points her index finger at me, “if I do, I’m up. That’s the trick: getting me up.”

“Got it. Move everything out of reach before waking you,” I make a mental note.

She smiles. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” She takes another bite before her eyes grow wide again. “So, about this waxing…is it necessary? I mean, it’s not like we’re going to be sleeping together?” She states it as if it were a question.

I smirk. “You offering?”

She scoffs and rolls her blue eyes. “You wish, but seriously, why do I need a wax? And why do you feel you get to tell me how to groom my own damn body?”

“Well, first of all, it’s in the contract. Second, I have no idea what this trip will entail. What if we’re invited to go swimming or something?”

“So legs, no Brazilian.”

“Legs and bikini,” I state.

She gives me a sickly-sweet smile that’s dripping with sarcasm. “How about you leave it to me and it’s none of your business what I choose? Now, do we need to come up with some cute story about how we met or how you proposed?”

I take a bite of my salad and shrug. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt. What you got?”

“Hmm, let me think,” she says, placing her finger on her chin for dramatic effect. “Oh, I know! We met at the Joker Club. I was waitressing there while I put myself through school to become a nurse. You saw me from across the crowded bar, and you just knew you had to have me. Then you approached me, and I blew you off because I thought you were just another guy looking to get laid. But that didn’t stop you. You came back night after night and wouldn’t stop asking until I agreed to a date. I finally gave in, and the rest is history.”

I laugh. “No way! That makes me seem desperate.”

Her nose wrinkles. “No, it doesn’t. God, no wonder you’re single. It communicates that once you see something you want, you won’t stop until you get it. And since you’re wanting a job from this man, I think it sends a good message.”

I move my head from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess you have a point. All right, whatever. Now, on to the proposal.”

“Oh, you proposed to me exactly one year from our first date. You took me to a fancy dinner where you bought out the whole restaurant so we’d be alone.”

“And I put the ring in your champagne,” I add on.

“Eww, no way. I hate when people do cutesy stuff like that. And just an FYI, don’t ever mess with my food or drink.”

I laugh. “Fine. Then how’d I do it?”

Her eyes roll upward, like she’s watching it play out before her. “All night I knew something was different, but I didn’t know what. I kept asking, but of course, you wouldn’t tell me. We had our dinner, wine, and dessert, and then we stood to leave. Just when I thought nothing was going to happen, you dropped down on one knee and proposed, right there in the middle of the dark, empty restaurant. I was breathless and scared, but excited. The look in your eyes held so much more than I could understand. I couldn’t say no.”

“You sound like you’ve thought about this for a while.” I pick up my glass of wine and take a sip.

She laughs. “No, I’ve just read a lot of romance novels.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “You’re the weirdest woman I’ve ever met.”

Her jaw drops. “How? You’ve met El, haven’t you?”

“You talk to your cat like it’s a person, you throw things when you get woken up, you put away more food than any man I’ve ever met, you don’t seem to give a damn about what people think of you, and I bet you have your dream wedding all planned out thanks to those romance novels.” I list off the things.

“No way. I’m never getting married.” Her face is serious as she look at me, lifting her fork to her mouth.

“Really? Children?”

She snorts. “Fuck no. I’m enough of a mess on my own. If you think I could take care of a child, you’re seriously overestimating me.”

“Seems like we have a lot in common.” I pick up my glass and raise it in the air. “To us, the only two people in the world who are happier being alone.”

She raises her glass. “Here, here.”

We both tilt our glasses to our lips.

Chapter Seven

Samantha

After lunch, I excuse myself to go put my things away. I walk back into my room and fall onto the bed in a fit of giggles. I know most girls would be trying to think of a way to make this a little more permanent, but I’m just happy to be out of my tiny apartment that doesn’t have power. As much as Cameron is a known man-whore, he does have his redeeming qualities, and to be honest, I half-expected him to try to get in my pants already.

This place, Cam’s house, is like a five-star hotel. It has everything I could ever need, along with a full household staff. I’ll never have to do laundry again. I don’t even have to pick up after myself if I don’t want to. And by never, I mean a few weeks. Tops.

Cocoa jumps up on the bed and meows. I roll over and pull her to my chest, petting her thick black fur. “What do you think of our temporary home, Cocoa?”

She purrs as she curls herself into a ball against me.

“I like it too,” I agree.

Someone knocks on the door and I sit up. “Come in!” I call out.

Cameron opens the door and steps inside. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m bringing in your new things to put away.” He motions toward the room and three men carry in all the bags, setting them on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Thank you,” I tell them with a smile before looking back at Cameron, who’s still standing by the door.

“I’ll leave you to your things,” he says, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

When I’m alone, I stand and start pulling everything out of the bags and putting each item in its rightful place. Cam—well, actually, I’m sure it was his assistant—bought me tons and tons of makeup and skincare products. I take three bags to the bathroom and assemble my new skincare and makeup regimen before hanging up the rest of the clothes.

After three hours of putting things away, I step into the bathroom to shower. I want to look pretty for him tonight, and show him that I can clean up and look like one of the women he usually entertains. I take a long, hot bubble bath, using my new luxury shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. When I get out, I sit at the vanity and apply my new makeup and style my hair. My skin feels like butter thanks to all the new products. I flip over a bottle of skin primer and see a hundred-dollar price tag. My mouth drops open. Who in their right mind would pay a hundred dollars for a bottle of facial spray? I could eat off that for a month!

After my makeup is applied beautifully and my hair is ironed smooth, I step back into my room to find something nice to wear to dinner. I don’t want to look too fancy, like I’m trying to impress him, but I want him to see that I’m putting some effort into this agreement and that I’m not here to half-ass it and just get the money. I pull on a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a blush pink sweater that’s so soft, it feels like pajamas. I slip on a pair of designer flats that are new to my wardrobe, and head down the stairs.

“You look nice,” he says when he steps out of the living room and into the foyer where I am, still wearing his suit from earlier.

“Thank you. I wanted to show you that I can clean up when needed.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I don’t know why I felt the need to say that out loud.

He seems to be fighting off a small smile. “That you can.” He holds out his elbow. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

I slide my arm through his. “I’d love to.”

He leads me into the dining room and even pulls out my chair for me. When he sits across from me, I say, “Tell me about your past, Cameron.”

“Excuse me?” he asks, picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip.

“Well, real couples know things about each other. I don’t know much of anything other than the fact that you’re a lawyer. Where’d you grow up? What are your parents like? What’d they do? Where’d you go to school?”

It looks like he chokes down his wine. “Well, I grew up here in Chicago. My mother was a homemaker and my father was a lawyer, which is how I got started. It was mandatory for me to go to law school, and when I graduated, I was hired on at my dad’s firm. I left it when I was twenty-two, when I went into business with the two partners I have now.”

“Wow, so you took the job your dad gave you, then left to open your own law office?”

He nods. “Yep, he wasn’t too happy about that. He wanted me to carry on his legacy and run the firm he opened.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, taking a sip.

He shrugs. “I knew I couldn’t start from scratch if I stayed. I mean, everyone in Chicago knows my name. They automatically link it to my father, and I wanted to start something for myself. I didn’t want anyone to say, ‘He’s only here because of who his father is.’ So I left and started over, all the way at the bottom.”

“Did he eventually get over it?” I ask.

He laughs. “Not quite. He passed away last year, and I hadn’t talked to him since the day I left his office. He was pissed that I’d walked out on everything he’d built, plus he claimed he did it all for me.”

“How sad. You hadn’t talked to your father in years and then he died out of nowhere?”

I see him swallow and his eyes fall to his plate. “I knew he was sick. It wasn’t unexpected.”

“And you didn’t try to make amends?” I’m almost shocked.

“What can I say? I’m an asshole, as well as an ungrateful son, according to him. Either way, he died, and left his firm to my mother. She sold it, because let’s face it, she had no idea what to do with it, and I started my own firm. Styles, Schmidt & Fitz is now the top law office in Chicago.”

“Do you regret it?” I ask in a whisper, almost afraid to meet his eyes.

“Every day,” he admits, and that makes me jerk my head up to see the guilty look on his face.

“When I found out he was sick, I waited to see if he’d reach out, but he was a stubborn, sick old man. I thought, ‘If he can’t be bothered, then why should I?’ So I pushed everything and everyone away.”

“Do you still talk to your mom?”

He shakes his head sadly. “No, after my dad died, she slowly went downhill. She moved in with my sister, who now takes care of her and her health issues.”

“Health issues?”

He nods. “She’s got dementia. She doesn’t even know me anymore. And to be honest, it’s easier that way. If she doesn’t see me or remember me, then she can’t remember the way I disappointed them both.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “But enough about me. Why don’t you tell me something about you? Where are you from?”

I swallow down the thick tension that’s forming in my throat. I didn’t mean for things to take such a serious turn. No wonder he is the way he is. He keeps everyone at arm’s length, not in fear of being hurt, but in fear of hurting them.

I clear my throat. “I, um,” I shake the sadness from my mind, “I’m from down south. Carbondale, Illinois. After my dad passed away when I was two, my mom moved us up here where her family was.”

“How’d your dad die?” he asks, bluntly.

“Cancer,” I reply.

“Well, it’s good you at least have family here.”

I nod. “My mom is here, plus my aunt and a few cousins. Most of our family has moved, and my grandparents passed away years ago.”

“How do you like your dinner?” he asks, and I feel like it’s his way of changing the subject.

“It’s good.” I nod and take another bite of chicken.

“What do you do for fun?” he asks.

I shrug. “I’m not sure anymore. When El moved out, it kind of left me in a tough position. At first it was fine, but then I had some unexpected dental issues, the transmission went out on my nine-year-old Jetta, and Cocoa got sick, so I couldn’t afford to do anything. I could barely afford to eat. That’s why I didn’t turn a light on when you were there. The power had been shut off. This job offer came just in time.”

“So, what do you plan on doing with your money? Besides spending it on that old fleabag.”

I roll my eyes and ignore his snide remark about my cat. “I have to find a new place to live. It’ll need to be someplace more affordable, which in this city means a roach hole in a shitty part of town, so that’s awesome.”

“You mean you’re not going to run out and buy a new car or something?” He smiles as he looks at me from beneath his lashes.

I half smile. “No. I mean, I’d love to, but I need to be more responsible and make sure I never end up without power again.”

“Thanks for doing this, Samantha,” he says softly.

A small smile forms. “You’re helping me out just as much as I’m helping you.” I shrug one shoulder.

“What’s your favorite movie?” he asks out of nowhere.

I think about it for a few seconds. “It’s a tie between The Goonies and Fried Green Tomatoes.”

“Would you like to watch one of them after dinner in the theater?”

My eyes stretch wide. “You have a theater?”

He nods as a smug smile spreads across his face. “I do.”

I smile, giddy and excited. He may be an arrogant douche, but he’s playing nice and I’m not about to pass up the perks that come with this arrangement. “I’d love to!”

After dinner, Cameron leads me up to his room. I’m a little confused about why we’re in his bedroom, but I’m completely overwhelmed by the vast interior. There is a massive bed and several doorways to what I assume are closets and the bathroom, but then he opens one and leads me into a dark room. Soft lights flicker on and there are several rows of comfy-looking reclining chairs sitting in front of a wall-sized screen.

“Have a seat. I’ll start the movie and grab us some snacks. Any must-haves?”

I plop down and pull the blanket off the back. “Cherry Coke, buttery popcorn, and Red Vines?”

He smiles and nods before sliding his hands into his pockets. “Coming right up.” He leaves me alone, and I’m speechless. Who the hell actually keeps all that on hand just for a movie night?

He’s so different from how I thought he’d be. Since he’s brought me into his home, he’s been kind and gracious, not spoiled and entitled. Sure, he’s got that cocky grin, but I probably would too if I had built this kind of life for myself.

I think El would be surprised to know this side of him. She’s only ever heard of his softer side from Griffin. It makes me wonder more about Griffin and their friendship. Have they known each other long? Did they grow up together? Does he know the reason Cameron pushes everyone away? Finding out about his family makes my heart hurt for him in ways I didn’t think possible.

Before, when we had only met at our business dinner, I thought he’d be cold and mean. I thought he was the type of man who used women, and I guess, maybe he is. But now I know why, and it makes me want to help him—to show him he doesn’t need to be this way, and that he could really find someone to be his actual fiancée if he’d stop pushing them away.

And like that, my mind is made up. While I’m not the woman Cameron needs, I will make him see what he’s worth, make him understand he can have it all, and hopefully with any luck, help him repair the relationship he has with his family.

Moments later, the room darkens and the screen lights up. Cameron comes back into the room—arms loaded down with all of our snacks. He hands me my Cherry Coke, a big bowl of popcorn that’s glistening with butter, and several packages of candy.

“I know your only request was Red Vines, but I like to have a little variety. I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I always have an ungodly amount of candy on hand.” He sits in the reclining chair next to me and makes himself comfortable as he flashes me a toothy, boyish grin.

“Which movie did you pick?” I ask, tossing a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth.

“You’ll see,” he says around a smile as he lifts a remote and clicks a button.

The room fills with sound and my eyes leap up to the screen in time to see the words Fried Green Tomatoes.

I giggle. “I can’t believe you have this movie. It’s so old, most people don’t even know what I’m talking about. And in my experience, most dudes aren’t jumping at the chance to watch an emotional chick flick.”

He gives a little shrug as he looks over at me, “It’s one of my favorites too.”

A small tingle runs through my body and it feels like there’s an electric current bouncing between us. It makes my stomach tighten with anticipation and confusion. I’m not supposed to have these feelings about him. He’s supposed to repulse me—this man who goes through women like water and hires one to make him look like a “family man.”

But there’s something I can’t put my finger on. It’s not the luxury he’s exposed me to or his good looks. It’s little things like the way he smiles at me and the way his eyes darken. It’s like I’m seeing the real him for the first time—the person he hides away from everyone else—like he’s letting his guard down just a little with me, and I like it.

Chapter Eight

Cameron

I find myself watching her more than the movie. I’ve seen this movie a thousand times. It’s one of my favorites…yeah, yeah, I know that’s lame for a dude to admit, but I guess I have a soft spot in me somewhere. But watching her watching it is like experiencing it for the first time. I can’t help but smile when she laughs, and I love how giggling causes wrinkles to form across her nose. When her eyes tear up and she gently wipes at her nose, it feels like my heart skips a beat. I don’t even really know this woman, but it hurts to see her sad.

My body tingles as a need to make her feel better takes over. My eyes drop to her full, plump lips as her tongue darts out to lick some leftover salt from the popcorn. The butter has left them glistening, and I can’t help but imagine nipping one of them and then slipping my tongue between them.

I grip the arms of my chair to hold myself back. This is business, I remind myself. She isn’t a friend. She isn’t a girlfriend. She’s an employee, and that’s how I should treat her. I need to keep my distance. I’m not the kind of man she needs or wants. I’m nothing more than a means to an end for her. I’m a giant dollar sign that promises to pull her out of her misery. She could never look at me and see anything more, and even if she did, I’d do nothing but hurt her. I don’t know the first thing about relationships.

I tell myself that what I’m feeling is nothing more than confusion. I’m not used to spending this much time with a woman. Usually, I find one in a club, rock her world, then leave her behind satisfied. Just the fact that I’m spending this much time with Sam is confusing my body. But I know I have to keep it straight in my mind.

When the credits begin to roll, I turn off the movie and look over at her. She’s wearing a sad smile as she turns to me. She reaches out and places her hand on my forearm in sincerity as she presses her other hand to her chest.

“Thank you, Cameron. I’ve really enjoyed spending the evening with you.”

Hearing those words causes my heart to race. I nod once. I can tell she’s one of those women who cares about the little things—the gestures, and the small selfless acts that usually go unnoticed. Whoever she ends up with will be a lucky son of a bitch. I just hope he doesn’t break her heart.

“I have as well, but I think we should both get to bed. We have an early morning ahead of us.”

She presses her lips together and nods once. “Right, a morning full of pain and embarrassment.” She stands. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I whisper, watching her walk away. Once again my eyes fall to her firm, perky ass I watch her delicious hips sway back and forth with each step.

When she slips out the door, I groan and let my head fall into my hands as I rub them vigorously across my face. Finally, I stand and head for my room. I strip out of my now-wrinkled suit and crawl beneath the covers, drifting into a deep Samantha-less sleep.

My alarm goes off at five a.m. I roll over and silence it quickly, then push myself up, refusing to lie in bed any longer. I’ve never been a lazy, lounging-around kind of person. It drives me crazy to relax. I much prefer getting up and having an early start to my day. I step into the shower, washing my body quickly before thoughts of Samantha’s lips or ass can permeate my brain again. Once finished, I quickly towel off and shave before dressing.

Since it’s Sunday, I ignore the row of perfectly pressed suits and grab a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. I roll the sleeves up to my elbows, then pull on a pair of comfortable boat shoes. Even though it’s the weekend, I still always make sure I’m dressed well, something I picked up from my father. I look myself over in the mirror and spray on some cologne. Checking the clock, I see it’s now going on six. I open the door and step out into the hall, needing to wake Sam for her day of grooming.

I knock lightly before opening her door. The light from the hallway floods into her dark room, lighting up a small sliver across the floor, wall, and bed. Her fluffy black cat lifts its head and yowls at me; I swear it’s cussing me out for waking it.

I step into the room and place my hand on Sam’s exposed ankle, gently shaking it. “Time to wake up, Samantha. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

She jerks her foot away, grabs something off the nightstand, and throws it my way. I quickly dodge it, suddenly remembering her warning.

“Hey!” I shout, walking around the bed to take away whatever is left on the bedside table. “Wake up,” I tell her again, hitting the button on the remote to turn on the light.

“Ouch!” she cries, covering her eyes with her forearm.

“Get up,” I try again.

“No, give me that remote.” She begins to push herself up.

I take several steps backward. “Come and get it,” I tease.

Her eyes narrow into small slits and her brows pull together, causing a crease to form between them. She stumbles across the floor toward me, but I quickly sidestep in the direction of the bathroom. I pretend not to notice her erect nipples through her barely-there t-shirt as she lunges toward me. Her long, shapely legs are exposed beneath the oversized shirt, and I can’t help but quickly wonder if she has anything on underneath.

“There, you’re up. Now, go shower and get ready.” When she steps toward me in an attempt to get the remote, I gently push her toward the bathroom.

She shoots me a dirty look, but then walks into the bathroom and shuts the door between us.

“She wasn’t kidding, was she, Cocoa?” I say, tossing the remote on her bed and heading for the door.

The cat lifts its head to look at me once again before closing its eyes as if I don’t even exist.

I shake my head. “Typical. Why the fuck am I talking to the cat now?” I ask myself, stepping back out into the hall to go downstairs.

I go into my home office and turn on the lights and computer before heading back out to the dining room. The table is already set and covered with platters of food.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles,” Kathy, the maid, says.

“Good morning. How are you?” I ask, taking my seat while she pours me a cup of coffee.

“Very well, thank you. Are you ready for breakfast or just sticking with coffee for now?” she asks, handing me the morning paper.

I look over the selection. “I’ll take some coffee, orange juice, fruit, and toast. Thank you.”

She picks up my plate and serves everything I’ve asked for.

I’m done eating when Samantha walks into the dining room. She sits across from me and pours a cup of coffee. I fold up the paper and look directly at her.

“How was your shower?” I look her up and down and note she’s wearing the Gucci athletic outfit I bought her yesterday. The spandex material hugs every curve of her body so well that it looks like the outfit was made specifically for her. Her dark hair is sopping wet and pulled into a messy bun atop her head, and her face is completely bare of any makeup. It’s obvious she’s not a morning person.

She frowns. “It would’ve been better had I gotten up at noon instead of six.” She shrugs. “But, whatever. What’s for breakfast?”

I let out a chuckle. “If you want something you don’t see here, all you have to do is ask.”

She stands and puts a little of everything on her plate: a few pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, strawberries, and then a heaping serving of biscuits and gravy. She pours a cup of coffee and sits down, tearing into a slice of bacon. She closes her eyes and moans softly. “This is amazing,” she whispers to herself.

A soft laugh escapes my lips at the fuss she’s making, but it’s more to distract myself from my growing erection that soft moan of hers caused. An image of me licking every inch of her naked body spread out across the breakfast table bounces through my brain.

I clear my throat to bring my mind back to where it needs to be. “With all of the moving day excitement yesterday, I forgot to give you this.” I pull my wallet from my back pocket and open it. Removing the white envelope, I lean forward and hand it to her.

She takes it and looks it over before opening it. Inside, she finds a check for twenty-five thousand dollars and a key to the house. Her eyes grow wide with surprise, and I see her swallow.

“Wow. I mean, I knew what I was getting paid, but actually seeing it makes it so…surreal.”

“The key will let you in the front door and the entryway gate if for some reason there is no guard on duty or if the keypad isn’t working. I also had an email sent to you with the gate code as well as the garage and the alarm system codes.”

She nods and places everything back into the envelope before setting it on the table and continuing to eat. She picks at her food for a moment as she falls silent. I don’t know for sure what’s bothering her, but I’m sure the fact that I just handed her a check for her “services” has something to do with it.

I fold up my paper and place it on the table. “I’ll leave you alone to enjoy your breakfast in peace. There are some last-minute things I need to take care of before we leave for the week.” I stand. “My driver is on standby to take you to your appointments.”

“Cameron?” she asks, causing me to stop before I leave the dining room.

“Yes?” I turn back to face her.

Her eyes are downcast, staring at the food on her plate. “Will you come with me? I’m a little nervous.” The tone in her voice tells me she’s filled with uneasey. I can tell by looking at her that she isn’t the kind of woman who is new to the salon.

My smile cracks, but I’m not sure why. A part of me is screaming “no,” but something deep inside me is happy that she wants me there with her.

“Finish breakfast while I get some things done, then we’ll go together.”

Her eyes jump up to me and her wide smile takes over. “Really?”

I press my lips together and nod once before turning and heading for my office.

I take a seat at my desk and turn my attention to the computer screen. I check my email and send replies, then move on to confirming our flights in the morning. I go over my schedule for the month, RSVPing to every event—a way to show off my new fiancée—then shut everything down. I’m walking out of my office just as Sam comes down the stairs.

She motions toward her body. “Do I look okay or do I need to go back up and change? I mean, I realize that I’m wearing, like, two thousand dollars’ worth of spandex, but you are a lot more dressed up than me.”

I smile. “You’re beautiful.” I’m not sure why I chose those words to affirm that her outfit was fine for the occasion. “Shall we?” I hold out my arm.

She loops her arm around mine, and I lead her out the door to the awaiting limo. We both climb in the back seat. “Would you like something to drink? The car is fully stocked.”

Her brows lift with surprise. “Maybe a strong drink will help settle some of these nerves.”

I laugh and pour two glasses of champagne. “It’s really not as bad as you’d think. There is numbing cream. Really, it’s more awkward than anything else.”

“I hope so,” she whispers, lifting the glass to her lips and swallowing down a sip.

I sit back in my seat and take a sip of my own drink. “How about we keep your mind off it, huh?”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

I didn’t mean anything dirty by it, but somehow, it’s been twisted that way. I can’t hold back my grin or the wink I send her way.

She laughs loudly, then smacks my bicep playfully. “Nice try, but it will take many more of these before that happens.” She holds up her glass. I’m taken aback by how free-spirited and confident she is in herself—letting her loud laugh fill the car without a second thought. The women I’m used to being around are insecure and constantly fishing for compliments and affirmation.

“Good to know,” I shoot back.

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hold back her smile.

“So, what all are we going to be doing on this trip we’re taking?” she asks to change the subject.

I shrug. “I don’t really know. We’ll be staying on Mr. Smithfield’s estate, in his guest house to be more specific. I’m sure I’ll have a few meetings with him, we’ll have dinner, and they’ll probably take us out to show us how they spend their time—really drilling into my head that they prefer church services and square dances over clubs and drinking.”

She snorts. “So, I’ll need to be dressy-casual.”

“I’d vote to bring a little of everything. I’m nothing if not prepared.”

She nods her head just as the car comes to a stop.

“Shall we?” I ask, pushing for her to open the door and climb out.

She takes a deep breath and swallows the last of her drink. “Let’s do this.”

We arrive back home just as dinner is being placed on the table. Sam is being dramatic, walking with her legs stiff and bowlegged.

I laugh. “It’s not that bad,” I tell her, removing her jacket and handing it off to the maid.

“How would you know? Do you have a vagina? Have you ever had boiling-hot wax spread across your bits and then had your hair ripped out by the roots?!”

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 bits 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 she 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.

We close the distance and I hold out my hand. “Good afternoon. I’m Cameron Styles.”

He smiles and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles. I’m Jake. I’ll be delivering you to Mr. Smithfield’s estate this morning.”

“Lead the way,” I tell him, motioning with my arm for him to walk ahead of us.

I reach out and take Sam’s hand in mine as we follow him out the doors and into the parking lot. He opens the back door of a blacked-out SUV and takes our bags as we climb inside.

After our bags are loaded into the back, he climbs behind the wheel and pulls out into traffic.

“How was your flight?”

“It wasn’t too bad—quick and no turbulence,” I reply.

He offers up a smile I can see in the mirror. “Mr. Smithfield has the guest house all prepared for you. Is there anywhere you’d like to stop along the way? Something to eat or drink? Everything is on Mr. Smithfield, of course.”

I raise my hand to wave off the idea, but Sam speaks up. “Could we stop by Starbucks?”

I turn and look at her with a smile.

She shrugs. “It’s getting close to lunch and I need a pick-me-up. That flight sucked the life out of me.”

“Absolutely.”

Jake drives a short distance, then pulls into a Starbucks drive-through. She orders a white chocolate mocha, then we’re back on our way. We make our way around the city and into the suburbs where there is a big gated community. He drives further until he slows down and pulls up to a cast-iron fence securing a big brick wall. He taps his key card and the gates open. When the massive five-story house comes into view, Sam takes a loud breath of amazement. It is an impressive home, but I’m not fazed. Sure, my house isn’t this big, but I’ve seen bigger and better. The house I grew up in was this size, so this is nothing for me.

Instead of stopping at the main house, he drives deeper into the property. The grass looks lush and green, and the landscaping is perfectly planned. Through the trees, bushes, and flowers, I can see a swimming pool and a tennis court. Finally, he comes to a stop directly in front of the guest house. It’s a small two-story brick house with apple-red farmhouse shutters and flowers planted along the front.

“This is so cute,” Sam says, stepping out of the car.

“It’s very nice,” I reply, again not fazed. I would’ve much rather stayed at a five-star hotel where there’s room service and private massages. I’m not exactly keen on hospitality or staying in someone else’s home. I prefer my space and privacy.

The driver grabs our bags and shows us into the house. He places our bags on the floor, then turns to address us.

“Mr. Smithfield would like to give you the day to settle in. He has invited you to the main house tonight at seven for dinner. The kitchen and liquor cabinet are fully stocked, and he’d like for you two to make yourselves at home. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call the main house. The number is by the phone.”

“Thank you,” I tell him as I follow him to the door. I close it behind him and turn to find Sam walking slowly around the house.

“This is amazing.”

I snort. “What’s so special about it? My place is better than this.” I walk into the living room and sit down, cringing as I realize how pompous and arrogant my words must sound. I don’t know why I care so much about impressing Sam and trying to prove myself to her.

“Yeah, but your place is a mansion. This is just a regular house, but it’s so nice.” She spins around to face me. “I call master bedroom!” she shouts, running up the stairs. I can hear her feet pounding down the hallway above me.

I laugh and stand, following after her. When I get upstairs, I find her standing in the doorway to a bedroom.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, coming up behind her.

“There’s only one bedroom,” she replies quietly.

I frown. “That can’t be,” I mumble, walking down the hall and opening doors. I find a bathroom, an office with a fully-stocked library, and a room that’s been converted into a large walk-in closet with built-in dressers and a vanity.

I walk back into the bedroom, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this. This could be a three-bedroom house, but they turned the other bedrooms into useless rooms.” A part of me feels like this is a trap—like Mr. Smithfield wanted to make damn sure we shared a bed. Anger burns in my chest at the deceit of it all, even though I know I’m being ridiculous.

“What are we going to do?” Sam asks, flopping down on the bed. “I guess I could sleep on the couch.”

I shake my head and sit down beside her. “You can’t sleep on that thing for a week. You won’t be able to walk. I’ll sleep on the couch,” I volunteer.

She waves her hand through the air. “No, this is silly. I mean, we’re both adults here. We can sleep in the same bed. It’s not like either of us has cooties or something.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, a little fearful.

She nods. “It’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days.”

“I know you’re mean when you wake up, but how are you with sleeping? Are you going to beat the shit out of me?” I ask around a grin.

She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Guess we’ll find out.” She flashes me a smile.

I laugh and shake my head. “I guess we will.” I stand to gain some distance. I have a feeling that’s something I won’t get much of while we’re here. “I’ll go down and get our bags. We don’t want our things to wrinkle.”

I run downstairs and grab our bags, bringing them back up so we can begin putting our things away. I hang up my suits in the small bedroom closet, but Sam takes hers to the big walk-in closet. Once everything is put away, we meet in the living room.

“Now what? We still have several hours until dinner,” she says, flopping down on the couch.

“Well, he did mention a fully-stocked liquor cabinet.”

Her head slowly turns in my direction as a smile forms.

We both stand and start searching downstairs for said cabinet.

“Found it!” Sam yells from the kitchen.

I push my way through the door and find her bringing out bottles.

“What’ll it be?” She looks at me. “Scotch man, right?”

I offer a half smile and nod my head as I grab two glasses and sit at the table.

She takes down the bottle of Scotch and sits across from me. “Oh, I have an idea. Let’s play a drinking game.”

I begin pouring a little in both glasses. “What kind of drinking game?”

“We’ll take turns asking personal questions. If you don’t want to answer a question, you drink.”

I shrug. “All right. I’ll answer all of them so I don’t get drunk. We have to make a good impression tonight, Sam,” I laugh.

“No way! You have to play right. We won’t get drunk, don’t worry. Here, I’ll go first.” She presses her lips together and looks at the ceiling. “Who was the first girl you had sex with? And how was it?”

I snicker just thinking about it. “Her name was Missy Goldstein, and she was my high school girlfriend. We lost our virginities together on prom night. And then the next day, she broke up with me and told everyone I had a small penis and that I sucked in bed.”

Her mouth drops open before she bursts into laughter. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry for laughing, but why? Why would she do that?”

I shrug. “She was a popular girl, but she didn’t have any money. And back then, everyone was doing it. She hadn’t ever done it, but everyone thought she had. I think she wanted to make herself feel more important.”

“That’s a horrible story. How could you even smile at that?”

“After she told everyone I had a small dick, I told everyone she was overused—that sex with her was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. Not my finest hour by any stretch, but I blame it on idiotic adolescence.”

She gasps, but it turns into a laugh. “And what did everyone think of that?”

I shrug and pick up my drink.

“Oh, come on,” she begs.

I swallow down the Scotch in my mouth and place it back on the table. “Tell me about your first time.”

She runs her delicate fingers along the rim of her glass. “It was with a boy named Jonathan. We had been dating for the summer, but we both knew that he had to leave. He wouldn’t be going back to our school because his mother had gotten a better job in Florida. She was a single parent, so income was tight for them. She couldn’t turn it down. So on his last night in Chicago, he walked over to my place and picked me up. We walked around the city, talking and laughing, just enjoying our last night alone together. We got dinner from a food truck. We had hot dogs and ice cream. At the end of the night, he gave me a goodbye kiss. But I’d had such a good time with him that I didn’t want to let him go without…you know. I just felt so close to him. My mom was working the late shift that night, so I brought him upstairs to my room.”

I grin thinking about a teenage Sam—so full of passion, fire, and determination. “And?”

She shrugs. “I mean, at the time I thought it was magical. I thought he’d love me and maybe even want to carry on a long-distance relationship until we were both eighteen and could be together. But in all honesty, it was horrible. He didn’t know how to put on the condom. And because it was also his first time, had no idea what foreplay was. It hurt and it was uncomfortable. And I had daydreamed this whole big speech at the end of it where he professed his love and asked for something long-distance. What really happened was the minute he finished, he left me hanging. He got up, put on his clothes, and gave me a quick kiss goodbye. Haven’t talked to him since.”

I laugh. “Ouch.”

She nods and takes a drink anyway. “Yep. Tell me about the last girl you were with.”

I roll my eyes. “Nothing special there. I met her at a club, took her to the restroom, and bent her over. After it all, I paid her bar tab and left.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Seriously? You were a pig.”

“Were?” I ask, wondering when she suddenly decided I was no longer a pig. I haven’t exactly changed my morals since then and turned into Prince Charming.

She picks up her glass and finishes it off, refusing to elaborate.

“How long has it been since you were in a serious, committed relationship?” she asks, and I can see the corners of her mouth lift slightly, but she holds off the smile.

I take a deep breath and think back. “Never, I guess.”

“Never?” she nearly yells.

I laugh and nod my head. “There have been lots of women.” My eyes grow in size just thinking about them all. “A lot of women, but I wouldn’t say I was in a relationship with any of them. I think the closest I ever came was back in college. There was this one girl. Her name was Stacy, and we kept things casual in our shared department. She slept with whomever she wanted, and vice versa. But I did take her out to dinner on occasion, and we went to a few parties together.”

“What happened?”

I let my head fall as I shake it back and forth, now focusing on my drink. “She got mad when she walked into my room to find me with another girl.”

“I thought it was casual?”

“Me too, but I guess she’d been playing along hoping I’d fall in love and change my mind.”

“That poor girl.” She picks up her glass and takes a swig. “Have you ever run into her since?”

“Nope, but I have checked up on her, as stalkerish as that sounds. She graduated, and got hired on at a law firm. Now, she’s married and has three kids. Dodged that bullet,” I joke.

She rolls her eyes. “One day, Mr. Styles,” she says, moving to sit on the edge of the table directly in front of me, “someone will worm their way into that stone-cold heart of yours.” She offers up a flirty smile and stands, walking out of the kitchen and leaving me alone.

I can’t help but watch her go, completely fascinated and amazed—wondering if she’s the woman she’s warning me about.

Chapter Eleven

Smantha

I feel like I’ve left him hanging, and a part of me likes it. I like knowing that I’m getting to him, teasing him, and maybe even opening his eyes a bit about what an actual grown-up relationship is like. It’s not just about sex. It’s about friendship, trust, and communication. All of which we’re building.

I feel like I need to give him a moment alone, so I slip into the bathroom and start to fill the tub before I begin getting ready for our big dinner date with his client. I guess my efforts on my appearance this morning were wasted since we didn’t even meet the client yet.

Tonight, I want to look the part, but now I think that faking this relationship won’t be as hard as I’d been envisioning. I do feel closer to him than I did yesterday, and I can’t ignore this feeling in my stomach that begs to me lean in and kiss him—to caress his cheek, or jump on his lap and ride him until my entire body is spent.

As much as I’d like that, it also scares me. I know that it wouldn’t mean anything to him yet. I’d just be another one of those girls who didn’t make the cut. And I’d hate to be another Stacy—to feel like I’m winning him over only to have my heart broken.

A deep sigh leaves my lips as I let the warm water envelop me. I lean my head back and close my eyes as I sink a little lower into the bubbles. All I see is him. My stomach tightens as I imagine him stalking up to me, face full of determination. In my daydream, I’m frozen, unable to move as he reaches out for me and pulls me to his chest. He whispers something, but I can’t make out what it is over my pounding heart. And then, his lips land strongly on mine. With a hand cradling each side of my face, he leans me back, deepening the kiss. My shaking hands wrap around his neck, pulling myself closer. I can practically taste the flavors of Scotch and mint on his tongue. The smell of his rich cologne washes over me so strongly, it’s like he’s actually standing right next to me.

“Samantha!” he yells, pulling me from my daydream.

I sit up quickly, causing water and bubbles to splash out of the tub as I look up at him with panic written across my face. “What is it?”

He grins. “Man, you were really out there. What were you thinking about?” He slides his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

“Nothing,” I say, afraid to admit it. “Why are you in the bathroom?” I gasp as I quickly move to cover my very naked body.

“Dinner is in one hour and I need a shower too. If you wouldn’t mind speeding it up?”

I nod, breathless. “Okay, I’ll be out in a sec.”

He stands back and lifts his chin, silently challenging me to do so while he watches.

I roll my eyes, knowing he’s only joking, but also wanting to tease him even more. I lean forward and pull the drain stopper, then stand—naked and soaking wet as bubbles run down my body. His eyes double in size as I step out of the tub and wrap the towel around myself. I don’t say anything as I step past him, but I make damn sure to keep eye contact. His jaw is flexed and every muscle is hard like he’s forcibly holding himself back. At the last second, I see him shake his head as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

I snicker as I walk down the hallway to the big walk-in closet to dress for the evening.

After blow-drying my hair, I style it in loose curls that hang down my back. I apply some makeup, giving my eyes a light smoky look, and top it off with a deep red lipstick. I walk up to the hanging bag and unzip it to reveal a sexy-yet-tasteful black dress. I pull it up my legs and look myself over in the mirror. I can’t reach the zipper in the back, but I slide my feet into a pair of black heels as I look myself over. The dress is flat black and ends just above my knee. It’s form-fitting, but still holds a lot of class. It’s not a dress I’d wear to a club, but perhaps a fancy dinner, if I had ever attended one before.

Cameron knocks on the door and I turn my head to greet him with a smile. “Care to zip me up?”

He removes his hands from his pockets and closes the distance between us like a big cat stalking its prey. Slowly, and with his eyes meeting mine in the mirror, he pulls up the zipper, letting the tip of his finger drag softly up my back. The soft touch sends shivers up my spine.

“Thank you,” I whisper out of breathlessness as I turn to face him.

Our faces are so close, his hot breath blows across my lips. “You’re welcome,” he whispers back as he slowly moves in for a kiss.

I lean in just as slowly, lost in this trance. His dark eyes are on mine as we’re pulled together by some unseen force. His hand rises slowly, landing on my cheek just as the space between our lips disappears. His mouth presses to mine, and we both let out a relieved breath. His tongue demands entrance, and I can’t deny him. As my lips part for him, his tongue snakes its way inside. My hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as I deepen the kiss, completely unaware that I even needed this so much. My knee bends as I pull it up to rest on his hip, and his left hand drops down to my ass, pulling me closer. A deep growl escapes his chest as he picks me up against him and moves us across the room. He sets me down gently on a small dresser in the room, and his hands are free to travel around my body, only making me need him more.

This kiss is different. It’s not like the first one we experienced—there’s no “testing the waters” or putting on a show for someone. This is borne out of pure lust and desire.

His touch is firm but soft at the same time, and his kiss is hard and passionate. This feels better than I’d imagined. He’s a man of many talents, this being the top: seduction. I’ve forgotten all about dinner. I’m not thinking about my hair and lipstick that are probably all kinds of fucked up now. All I can think about are his hands on my body and his lips on mine. His tongue dances against mine, caressing and darting in and out of my mouth as his lips cover my own. The kiss grows deeper with each thrust of his tongue.

I break the kiss to gasp for air and a soft moan escapes my swollen lips. That sound only seems to fuel him. His mouth moves back to mine, but this time, the kiss is much more forceful. His hands move up my thighs, and under my dress, to brush against my aching clit. When his thumb applies pressure to my sensitive nub, a spark shoots through me and I jerk.

“Oh, Samantha, you’re going to make our living arrangement so much harder than it needs to be,” he says against my lips. “You’re supposed to be the voice of reason. You’re not supposed to let me do this,” he says, and it almost sounds painful.

My hand on the back on his neck moves up into his hair, and I tighten my fist, pulling hard, which causes him to break the kiss.

“I want this as much as you do, Cameron. No strings. No attachments. Just,” I shrug, “working each other out of our systems.”

He grins. “Should I change the contract?”

“Fuck the contract; this is just pure lust,” I say, pulling his mouth back to mine. When I’m sure he’s not going to pull away from my kiss, I release his hair to push his suit jacket down his shoulders. He lets it slide off easily, but before he can reach for me, a buzzing sound fills the house.

We break apart. “What’s that?” I ask, breathless.

“I think it’s the doorbell.” He quickly looks at his watch. “It’s dinnertime,” he says, clenching his jaw in frustration.

I stand up and adjust my dress back into place. “Well, we can continue this later. Let’s get to work.” I move across the room to fix my makeup.

He picks up his jacket and pulls it back on just as the buzzing starts again. “I’ll wait for you downstairs?”

I nod, glancing at him in the mirror. He reaches down and tries to adjust the massive erection that’s tenting the front of his pants.

“And Sam?”

I stop applying my lipstick and turn to view him. “Yeah?”

“I think you should use this interruption to really think about what you want out of this situation. If you say no strings, I expect no strings.” Without another word, he turns and leaves me alone.

I sit at the vanity and take a deep breath as I look myself over in the mirror while thinking about his words. I stare at the giant rock on my left hand and spin it around nervously. He’s been burned this way once before, and I have a feeling he’s not willing to let me in to allow the relationship to go any deeper. But I’m not looking for a relationship. Right now, all I’m looking for is to get him out of my system. These daydreams have only fueled the fire burning inside of me.

One time. That’s all I’ll allow. I know from countless movies and books that friends with benefits never works. The more you do it, the more attached you get. But one time won’t hurt, right? Okay, maybe two or three times, but that’s it! We can have this trip, and when we return home, life will start getting back to normal. I’ll go back to work and so will he. We’ll go back to only seeing each other in the evenings for dinner. No relationship can grow out of that. I’ll treat this place like I treat Vegas: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I push away from the vanity and rush downstairs.

Jake shuttles us from the guest house to the main house in the nicest golf cart I have ever seen. It makes my Jetta look like a heap. When we arrive at the front steps, Cam reaches forward and rings the doorbell as we both stand nervously—not saying anything. Just before the door opens, though, he takes my hand in his and gives it a small squeeze. I can’t help but notice the butterflies that flutter in my stomach at his touch. Is it excitement for what’s come? Adrenaline from the passionate kiss we just exchanged? Whatever the reason, I’m here for it.

The door swings open and a short man with a shaved head and a bushy white beard opens the door wide. He is accompanied by a petite woman with pinned-up auburn hair that’s greying at the temples. The man is grinning as he reaches out a hand toward Cameron, who says, “Mr. Smithfield, it’s so good to see you again, sir.”

“Please, son, call me Wayne.” The men shake hands with gusto as they exchange pleasantries before they turn their attention toward us.

“Wayne, Mrs. Smithfield, this is my fiancée, Samantha Fox.” They both give me a warm welcome and pull us into the house.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Samantha,” Wayne says as he turns toward the woman next to him. “Cameron, Samantha, this is my beautiful wife of forty-four years, Helen.” She gives Cameron’s hand a quick shake before pulling me in for an unexpected warm hug. I guess what they say about Southern hospitality is true.

We make our way through the massive entryway of their beautiful home, snaking around corners and hallways into an open-concept kitchen and dining area. “You have such a beautiful home, Helen. I just love all the windows.” I can’t help but look around in awe. The house is larger than any house I’ve ever been in, but the way they’ve made it a home is warm and charming.

After a tour of the house and some small talk, we settle into our seats at the dinner table. I fully expect waitstaff to serve us our meal, but Helen starts bringing items out of the kitchen. “Oh, do you need some help?” I ask, jumping up out of my seat.

“No, no, dear, you stay there and enjoy some wine. I enjoy hosting.”

She certainly has a gift for cooking, because the food is delicious—crisp green beans and buttery potatoes with a maple-glazed Cornish hen. I could get used to this Southern life.

“I have to say I am mighty impressed you managed to tame this wild bachelor,” Wayne finally says as we settle in for dessert. Cam lets out what sounds like a nervous laugh as he settles his hand on my knee under the table. I flinch a little as he gives it a light squeeze.

“Well, you aren’t the only one!” I say with a big grin. “Trust me, I thought I was going to have to use a branding iron to keep the ladies away.” I smirk as I lightly jab him in the side with my elbow.

“So tell us the story, dear. How did you two meet?”

I quickly launch into the story we had agreed upon earlier, “Well, that’s a great story, so you might want to buckle up for this one.” I tell them about my job as a waitress at the Joker Club, and how one night he came in and tried to sweep me off my feet, but since I knew of his reputation, I shooed him away. Of course, I elaborate, adding in details about how Cam would show up at my work unexpectedly to surprise me with flowers and lunch dates and beg me to give him a chance.

I’m on a roll, making up details right and left as they come to me. “And then, one evening, we had a karaoke night at the club and he got up there and dedicated the song ‘Wonderful Tonight’ by Eric Clapton to me. At the end, he said in front of everyone that he knew from the moment he laid eyes on me that we were destined to be together, and that nothing else mattered in the world because he found me. He pulled me up on stage and we’ve been together ever since!”

Wayne and Helen swoon at the story and grab each other’s hand on the table. Helen puts her hand to her heart and fights back a tear. “Oh, that is just the loveliest thing!”

Cameron doesn’t seem too enthused. I can feel his grip on my knee tighten as I lean in and kiss his cheek. Before I can pull away, he turns his mouth to my ear and whispers, “We both know you’re going to pay for that.”

Chapter Twelve

Cameron

I’m trying to stay focused on the conversation at hand, but the truth is, all I can think about is hauling Samantha back to the guest house so I can have my way with her. I want her on her knees. I want her spread out in front of me begging me to make her cum with tongue. I can’t wait to plunge my cock into her and feel her fully sheathe my length with her warmth and wetness.

I nod and laugh in agreement as she tells the engagement story and gives a detailed overview of our wedding plans. I don’t give a fuck about any of this—all I care about is getting some goddamn relief from this raging hard-on I’m sporting under the table.

I can tell Sam is getting a lot of pleasure by making me uncomfortable with her outlandish stories of me as a lovesick fool. Well, two can play that game. Just as she’s getting to the good part, I lean down to pick up the napkin I’ve dropped under the table and slide my hand up her inner thigh, resting it just below the junction of her legs. She inhales sharply and stumbles with her words.

“You okay, sweetheart? Need some water?” I grab her glass with my other hand as she shoots me a dangerous look that says she’s about to rip my head off. I don’t relent. Instead, I give her thigh a nice squeeze and tell her to finish the story as I plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“Uh, where was I?” She fumbles a bit but picks up the story with the help of Helen.

I can see the pink flush start to creep up her neck and I can’t take it any longer. I slide my hand up until I graze her panties and rub my finger back and forth over her hardened nub. She grips her water glass before chugging it like she’s just finished a marathon. I want to fix my eyes on her and watch her cum, but instead, I ask Wayne to tell us the story of how he and Helen met.

“Forty-four years is very impressive, Wayne, and something I aspire to achieve as well. How did you and Helen meet, if you don’t mind my asking?”

I can see a small bead of sweat forming at Samantha’s temple as she desperately tries to focus on what’s being said. At first, she squeezes my hand between her thighs—trying to get me to stop, but she has since given in. I can feel the dampness growing on her panties as I rub small circles over and over on her clit. I want so badly to push her panties aside and thrust a finger into her just so I can taste her. Suddenly, she jumps out of her seat, nearly knocking over her glass of water.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I desperately need to use the ladies’ room.”

“Oh, of course, dear, let me show you.” Helen walks her out of the room and I turn my attention to Wayne to talk business.

After what feels like forever, we finish up dinner and coffee and manage to discuss some of the upcoming changes that Wayne has planned to implement in his North American grocery store chain. We talk about our plans for tomorrow: I am going to take a tour of one of the facilities here in Georgia with Wayne, and Samantha will spend the afternoon with Helen.

The ladies rejoin us and I glance down at my watch. “Well, it’s getting late and I don’t want to infringe any further on your time. We really appreciate how warmly you’ve welcomed us into your home—and Helen, that dinner was fantastic.”

We make our way back outside and join Jake on the golf cart. The tension between Samantha and me hangs in the air like a fucking lead balloon. I can’t tell if she is going to rip my head off or rip my suit off when we walk through the front door.

“What the actual hell, Cameron?” Rip my head off, it is. I barely get the door closed before she has a finger pointed in my chest.

“That was so not okay! You want to make a good impression with these people and you’re molesting me under the table!”

“Did you cum?” Her ire just turns me on even more. I’m a sick man.

“What?” She drops her finger from my chest.

“I said, ‘Did you cum?’ When you went to the bathroom, did you finish yourself off for me?” I can see the flush come back to her neck as it works its way up her cheeks.

“Seriously?” That’s a yes. I can’t help but smile as I take a step toward her.

“You did, didn’t you? Did you slip your fingers inside yourself?” She huffs loudly and rolls her eyes as she turns to walk away from me. But before she can, I reach out and grab her wrist. I spin her around and pin her against the wall.

“Samantha, answer me. Did you stick those pretty little fingers in your pussy and make yourself cum?” Her mouth pops open but she doesn’t speak. Instead, she just slowly nods her head yes. I can’t resist any longer and slip my hand behind her neck as my lips crash against hers. She doesn’t hesitate in reciprocating as our tongues intertwine. She’s clawing at my suit coat, pushing it down my arms as she kicks off her shoes.

I’m like a starving man at a buffet. I want to kiss every part of her while being inside her and touching her. I want to consume her. My suit coat hits the floor as she works my belt buckle loose, but I grab her hands and pin them above her head as I tear my mouth from hers.

“Look at me.” Her chest heaves with her breathing as her hooded eyes find mine. “I’m not a nice guy, Samantha. I’m not your happily ever after. I want to fuck you until you can’t walk. I want to use you and make you cum in ways you’ve never imagined. I want you begging—screaming my name over and over while I pleasure you. This doesn’t change anything between us. Understand?” She nods her head slowly. I know I sound like a complete piece of shit, but she’s a good woman and I’m not about to break her heart or make her think this is anything more than what it is: fucking.

I release her hands and tell her to go upstairs. I lean down and pick up my suit coat from the floor before following behind her. I don’t waste a second. The moment I enter the bedroom, I’m on her again. I need relief and I need it bad. I feel like my dick is about to rip through my pants at any second.

Unzipping her dress and dragging it down her gorgeous body is torture. I want to cum so bad, but I want to enjoy this moment. I strip her from her bra and panties and lay her back on the bed. Her body looks like heaven in the moonlight that’s breaking through the curtains. I slowly drag my eyes from her lips, and down her taut body. The lines on her stomach are evidence that she puts in hard work to look the way she does. I want to wrap her long thighs around my head and bury my face in her sweet center.

“Spread your legs for me.” She looks hesitant for a moment but slowly opens them a few inches. I want her spread open—wide open—so I can taste and smell her. I grab her ankles and pull them far apart as she gasps. Then I drop to my knees and inhale her delicious scent as I run my nose up her inner thigh.

She lets out a soft whimper as my tongue dances across her clit. Her taste sinks into my tongue and my head is flooded with lust. I don’t hold back. I dive in—lapping at her most intimate parts as I hold her legs apart. I can feel her writhing beneath me as she tries to squeeze her thighs together. She’s pulling at my hair as her back arches off the bed. She’s close, on the edge. I kiss and suck at her nub as I thrust two fingers inside her and find her G-spot. I can feel her juices pooling on my tongue as she relents and lets the pleasure roll through her body. Her legs fall open and her breathing slows, and I stand and look down her body as I remove my own clothing. Her eyes are heavy with desire and her lips are swollen and pouty. She’s ready for me. I quickly grab a condom from my bag and sheathe myself before crawling up her body.

“Let me feel you,” she says as she reaches down between us and grabs my length in her hand. She squeezes me and places the tip of my cock at her entrance. I didn’t think I could get any harder, but watching her long pale pink fingernails wrapped around my shaft has me ready to explode already.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck, baby, I need to cum so bad. Let me in that tight little pussy of yours.” I begin to rock back and forth, inching in more and more with each thrust. She’s tight—very tight—and I’m a little more than well-endowed. I’ve struggled to get my entire length inside a woman before, but Samantha is like a vise. I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m about two seconds away from blowing my load early like a teenager.

“You’re so tight,” I grunt as I thrust a little more.

“Just fuck me, please.” She’s whimpering and it drives me over the edge. Without thinking, I thrust into her and don’t look back. I pull myself up on my knees and hook her thighs over my arms. I thrust into her over and over, watching her tits bounce every time I impale her.

“Yes! Yesss! Right there, oh, don’t stop!” She fists the sheets in her hands as her back arches and she yells my name. That’s what I fucking want to hear!

Watching the orgasm rip through her body and feeling her squeeze me has me thrusting into her hard one last time before I empty myself into her. I can still feel her pussy milking me of every last drop as I collapse on top of her, burying my face in her neck.

“Did I hurt you?” I turn toward her and smooth the hair from her face.

“A little, but it was worth it. I’m sure I’ll be walking a little cockeyed tomorrow,” she says with a little giggle.

I can’t remember the last time I held a woman after sex, but this feels…good, right even. Her giggle makes my heart do a little flip—something I have no interest in addressing at the moment, so instead I reach between us and cup one of her breasts.

“I didn’t get a chance to play with these beauties yet,” I say before leaning down and covering a nipple with my mouth. A small moan escapes her lips as she pulls my face back up toward her.

“Unless you’re ready for round two, you better cut that out!”

I can feel a smirk spread across my face, “Well, in that case…” I say before leaning back down to continue my exploration of her supple breasts.

The next morning, I wake, shower, and head out before Samantha even wakes. I’m heading to Mr. Smithfield’s corporate office and his largest distribution facility. Part of signing a new contract is due diligence, and I intend to do just that today. Wayne is an honest, hard-working businessman who can respect someone like myself who has also built a firm from the ground up. I like the man. He’s forward and direct and I respect that. I don’t like a client who plays games or is constantly making me work hard to cover up their endless mistakes. Wayne is the kind of client who can not only make my firm endless amounts of steady money, but can open the door for even bigger fish in the future.

I look myself over in the mirror as I button the cuffs of my shirt. Wayne insisted I not wear a suit, as he takes a more casual approach to his standard uniform of dark denim, a button-down navy shirt, and a brown suede fedora.

Before I leave, I stop in the bedroom to admire Samantha as she sleeps. Her long, dark hair falls across the pillow and the sheets are draped seductively over her golden skin. I can see her chest rise and fall as small puffs of air escape her parted lips. She’s gorgeous—probably the hottest woman I’ve ever been with—but she doesn’t act like it. I can feel my dick stiffen as my eyes trail down her body to her exposed thigh hanging out of the blankets. I clench my jaw as I feel myself salivating. I want to taste her again. I check my watch and see that Jake will be picking me up in ten minutes. Without a second thought, I drag the blankets down Samantha’s body, causing her to stir awake. A look of confusion washes over her face. “What are you doing?”

“Having breakfast.” I say as I lower my mouth to the delicious apex of her thighs and set about making her cum—twice before my ride arrives.

“You don’t want me to return the favor?” she says as I brush her hand away from my belt.

“Not right now, sweetheart. My ride is pulling up, but we can certainly request tit-for-tat later.” Before I can think through my actions, I lean down and plant a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

I turn and walk out of the room as confusion settles over me. I don’t know what prompted such an act of endearment. I run my hand gruffly over my face as I step onto the porch and breathe in some fresh air. The last thing I need to do is confuse her. I don’t want to face the fact that it might be me who is becoming confused.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had some doubts lately about the bachelor life. Seeing how happy Vincent and Madeline have been, plus hearing about Griffin and El getting engaged with a baby on the way makes me wonder if that’s a happiness I could ever have. Where I get fucked up though is wondering if the risk is worth the reward: about the time I fall in love, she’ll probably use me for my money or get pregnant and end up resenting me.

I’m shaken from my thoughts when Jake pulls up in the golf cart. “Mornin’, Mr. Styles,” he says with a drawl.

“Morning, Jake.” We speed off toward the main house and jump in Wayne’s blue Ford F-350.

I know how important the Smithfield account is to my firm, and as much I’m trying to remain engaged during the meetings and tours, my mind keeps wandering back to Samantha. I want to send her a message to see how she’s doing. I fidget with my phone in my pocket over and over, trying to summon the courage to text her.

What would I even say? Just ask her how she’s doing and how her day is going, I tell myself. Weirdly, the words “I miss you” pop into my brain for a brief moment. I ignore the temptation and focus my attention back on the conversation at hand.

As we wrap up our day and prepare to head back to the house, I excuse myself to the restroom and pull out my phone to text her.

Hey, we’re heading back to the house soon for dinner. Wayne said two of his sons will be there tonight and we’ll be having a cookout. We have some time to rest and get ready though, so no rush.

I can see three dots appear after I send the text, signaling she’s responding.

Hey! Thanks for the heads-up. I just got back to the guest house after spending the day with Helen. I’m going to take a quick shower and give El a call. Kind of weird not being with you today. See you soon!

Her message is sincere and genuine; why can’t I be that way with her? Why can’t I just tell her that I missed hanging out with her today? I type out that I missed hanging out with her and my thumb hovers over the SEND button, but instead, I erase the message and type out something more my style—something that won’t confuse her about our relationship.

Mmm, you in the shower, huh? Get that body nice and clean for daddy, though I’m just going to make sure you’re filthy again as soon as I walk in that door. I hope you’re ready to return the favor from this morning, because I’ve been dying to see those plump lips of yours wrapped around my thick cock.

As much as I hated myself for sending that message, I can’t deny I’m loving the consequences. Looking down and seeing Samantha on her knees in her bra and panties waiting to take me in her mouth is a fucking fantasy. She brings out such confusing feelings in me. I want to mark her, to use her, and to make her mine while caring for her and seeing to her needs. A deep groan escapes my lips as she takes me into the back of her throat. I’m so screwed. I look down at her big blue eyes and tell her exactly how she makes me feel. I can’t hold back the filthy things that come to my mind when I look at her.

“That’s right, sweetheart, suck that cock like you mean it. Make me cum down your throat. Mmm, let me give you dessert before we even get to dinner, baby.”

Chapter Thirteen

Samantha

“I’ll have a bratwurst, please,” I say to Wayne as he asks me what I’ll have from the grill. The evening has been pleasant. Wayne’s sons, Richard and Thomas, have come by with their families and we’ve been hearing funny stories about their childhood. I glance over at Cam as he makes small talk with Helen about her grandkids. She’s flipping through about fifty photos and he’s smiling along with her and asking questions. It’s cute to see him so engaged and somewhat disarmed in a casual setting. He looks up and catches me staring, shooting me a small wink. Those damn butterflies are back in my stomach.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out to see Dr. McSexy’s name on the caller ID. “Shit,” I say to myself. I casually excuse myself and step into the house to take the call. I can see Cameron’s eyes on me as I walk away from the crowd.

“Hello?” I say in a half-whisper.

“Hey Samantha! It—It’s Kenneth…from work? Dr. Ken?”

“Hey, Dr. Ken, how’s it going?” I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one can hear me.

“Well, I haven’t seen you at work lately and I know we never got a chance to catch up after our failed er…uh…get-together?” It’s a little cute that he’s stumbling over what to call it.

“Yeah, so sorry. I actually took some time off. Just a few days. I’m in Georgia for a bit of an unexpected thing, but I’ll be back to work on Saturday.” I feel like shit lying to the man. I really do like him; he’s one of the good ones. He’s the kind you can count on—the marrying kind.

“Oh, my bad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your vacation. I guess I’ll see you Saturday and we can talk about that…date?” His inflection goes up as if he’s hopeful. I can’t help but giggle a little.

“Yes, that sounds great. Sorry I just kind of fell off the face of the earth after canceling on you last week. I look forward to seeing you and talking about our date.” I make sure to emphasize the last word so he isn’t confused. I hang up with a big grin on my face and turn around to see Cameron leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

“Who’s Dr. Ken?” His face is stoic, giving away no emotion.

“Oh, uh, he’s a cowork—a friend. He’s a coworker and a friend.”

“Sounds like more than a friend if you’re going on a date,” he says, his voice a bit more stern.

I suddenly feel a little annoyed and defensive. “Well, then I guess he’s more than a friend.” I shrug as I make my way toward the door. Before I can get too far, Cameron puts his hand around my elbow and pushes me up against the wall, pinning me against it with his hard body. His lips are on mine and his tongue thrusts into my mouth with conviction over and over, and I can’t help but feel he’s marking his territory.

As quickly as he pushed me against the wall, he pulls away, leaving me breathless. “While you work for me, you’re mine, understand?” His eyes are narrowed on mine. At first I think he’s joking, but his jaw is clenched and fixed.

“I’m not your property, Cameron, and the contract says nothing about me not dating during this period.” I hush my tone, remembering where we are and that people are just outside.

“We’ll discuss this later. Just don’t forget whose cock you had in your mouth half an hour ago,” he says before walking out, leaving me standing alone as tears prick my eyes.

His words sting. This is the first time I’ve felt like I’m just a contract to him, but it’s the snap back to reality that I needed. I can’t help but feel a little sick to my stomach when I realize there’s some truth to his words. It was barely thirty minutes ago that I was on my knees in front of Cameron, getting off on the naughty things he was saying to me while I pleasured him, and now I’m on the phone with a guy I actually have a chance with, trying to schedule a date.

I step into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face before re-emerging at the cookout. “You all right, dear? Cameron said you weren’t feeling like yourself this evening.” I smile as Helen wraps her arm around my shoulder.

“Thank you, Helen. Yes, I’m okay. He’s just overreacting. I had a bit of a headache, but now I’m starving!”

I grab my plate and head over to the grill to grab my bratwurst and a beer. Everyone falls back into their cadence of conversation and I make sure to have intense eye contact with Cameron as I pick up the bratwurst with my fork and take a massive and aggressive bite out of it. I laugh to myself as I see him wince at the sight of me destroying a phallic object.

That’ll teach you to tell me what I can do! I mutter under my breath as I finish up my dinner and join everyone else for a cold beer and laughter. As much as I want to slap the smug grin off of his face, I know I still need to put on a good show for the Smithfields, so I walk over and stand next to Cameron.

Without hesitation, he uncrosses his legs and pulls me onto his lap. As much as there was tension between us a few moments ago, it almost seems natural to be so intimate with him. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls my mouth toward his for a quick, soft kiss.

I can’t help but notice the look of shock in his eyes when he registers the whistles coming from Mr. Smithfield and his sons. I’m pretty sure he completely forgot where we were and his instinct to pull me in for a kiss was completely involuntary.

I blush as I look around and see their smiles and laughter, “Oh, to be young and in love!” Helen says as she leans into her husband’s side. I pull myself from Cameron’s lap, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Smithfield, we’ve had a lovely evening, but I think we’ll be heading back to the guest house.” We say our goodbyes to the entire family and decide to walk back to the guest house instead of taking the golf cart. Cameron is still holding my hand, but a heaviness hangs between us.

Neither of us wants to be the first to speak, and I can tell we have some unfinished business to discuss. I look up at the clear night sky and sigh. As much as I’ve been enjoying my time here—and let’s be honest, the white-hot sex hasn’t been bad either—I’ve missed home. We’ll be leaving tomorrow evening, and I’m ready to get back to Cocoa and my routine.

“What are you thinking about?” Cameron’s deep voice breaks my train of thought.

“Oh, just thinking about home…and Cocoa. I’ve never been away from her for this long.” He snickers and I jab him in the side. “Hey, she’s my baby!” The silence falls back between us and the tension seems twice as thick.

I can’t tell if it’s anger or frustration or both. We finally reach the guest house and step onto the front porch. I can’t take the weirdness any longer and I open my mouth to apologize just as he pulls me against him for a kiss.

This was the last thing I expected, but then I realize that this is how he deals with problems—with sex. It’s no wonder he’s never had a serious relationship, given that he masks his problems with temporary pleasure.

I push him away, “No, I want to apolo—” But before I can finish the sentence, he’s back to thrusting his tongue in my mouth. I attempt to push myself away again, but give in for just a moment as my body melts into his. I can feel his hardness pressing against my stomach as he snakes his fingers through my hair and tugs my head back to look in his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says before devouring my mouth again.

“What do you want?” I say breathlessly between kisses.

He grabs a thigh with each hand and lifts me to wrap my legs around his waist. He opens the front door and walks us inside, never breaking our kiss.

“You. Now.”

I can’t sleep. I lie staring at the ceiling as Cameron snores softly beside me. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I know it’s not going to end well. In his defense, he was very clear about no expectations. In his words, this is “just fucking.” But I know he can feel what’s happening between us.

A pit forms in my stomach as Dr. Ken’s face appears in my mind. I feel a sense of guilt and I don’t know why. I’m not dating him—we’ve never even been out together—but I feel like I’m somehow cheating on him with Cameron. I continue to toss and turn. The bottom line is I can’t continue on with Cam this way. It’s only going to end in heartache. My heartache.

I grip the armrest of the plane seat as we prepare for our descent back into Chicago. The day has been a bit gloomy. Cameron had a few final meetings with Wayne at his office, and Helen had some things to attend to, so I spent the morning on my own. Things are definitely still off between us. I figure I’ll give it some time and maybe it will pass on its own.

We continue in silence on the way home, after which Cameron leaves me while he returns to his office in the city to get caught up on what he missed while he was away.

It’s Friday night and as exhausted as I am, I can’t stand the thought of sulking at Cam’s home alone. “Should I call him?” I ask Cocoa, causing her to raise her sleepy head and blink at me.

“I’m going to call him. It’s Friday night; what have I got to lose?” I jump off the bed and pace back and forth as I pull up Dr. Ken’s name. It’s only 6:30 p.m., so there’s an off-chance I could catch him and grab a drink or a late dinner. I hesitate over the green CALLl button for half a second before pushing it.

“Oh my God, it’s ringing!” I say, as if I’m actually surprised.

“Hello, Samantha!” It’s Ken. I panic. I wasn’t actually expecting him to pick up.

“Hey!” I almost shout, my voice sounding squeaky and unnatural. I clear my throat and take a deep breath.

“Hey, sorry I’m calling so unexpectedly, but I thought I’d take a chance and see if you’re available for a drink or late dinner?” My hands are flailing about wildly as I speak, like that will somehow calm me down.

“Actually, yeah, that would be great. I was just about to order pizza and watch Netflix. So, thank you. You rescued me from another lonely night of The Office.”

I laugh, “I love that show; you can never watch too many reruns.”

“So, where do you live? How about I pick you up in about an hour?” Suddenly realizing my living arrangement and not jumping at the chance to start a first date with that story, I suggest we meet at this great wine bar in Lakeview East.

“Sounds like a plan then. You sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I feel like that’s the proper move here.”

I insist it’s okay and we agree to meet at 7:30, which leaves me barely enough time to hop in the shower and wash the airport gunk off my body.

I look myself over in the floor-length mirror of the closet. It’s still cold here in Chicago, so I opt for my favorite skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder pink and white top. My long hair falls in loose curls and I pull on a pair of over-the-knee heeled boots.

“Shit!” What should I tell Cameron? Should I leave him a note? Text him? I check the time and see that I barely have fifteen minutes to get to the bar. I quickly call an Uber and scribble a note for him.

Went out with a friend. Will be back later.

I walk into the bar, and Ken is already sitting at a small booth in the corner. He stands when I arrive and gives me a small peck on the cheek as he touches my elbow. His cologne is pleasant and soft. His thick blond waves are brushed back, and his blue eyes are piercing as they stare back at me.

He isn’t the type to look me up and down like Cameron—like he wants to devour me. Ken is a gentleman: one of those all-American, guy-next-door types you know will do the right thing and treat you with respect.

The night is going well. We’ve shared some laughs about work and exchanged horrific tales about working in the medical world. He didn’t pry about my trip to Georgia and I wasn’t about to offer up any details.

I want to want him like I did before. Before Cameron. I keep staring at his chiseled jaw and his broad chest. He is a tasty dish by all accounts, but I can’t help but compare him to Cameron. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m sitting at dinner with a gorgeous man who is everything I should want, and all I can think about is the douchebag of an asshole who only wants me for my body and says the filthiest things to me.

I quickly squeeze my thighs together when I think about our last night together, and the way Cam bent me over the end of the bed and used my arms for leverage to pull me back onto his cock over and over until we were both screaming in pleasure.

I feel sick to my stomach. I can’t do this to Ken. He’s a good guy—a guy who deserves better than someone who is hung up on someone else.

We finish up our dinner and wine and make our way outside. “So, do you want to go grab a drink somewhere else, or share a great bottle of aged port I have at my place?”

“I’m sorry, but not tonight. I had a great time though, and I’m sorry it was such a shit show just trying to go out.” I pull out my phone and call an Uber.

“No worries at all. Thanks again for agreeing to go out. I had a great time. I really hope we can do this again sometime?” He leaves it as a question.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, so I smile and give a small nod. “Have a good night. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

On the way home, I decide I want to be honest with Cameron. I want to tell him that while I was on the date, all I could think about was him—that I crave his touch, and that I miss him when we’re apart. I’m not ready to tell him I have feelings for him, but I want him to know that I’m open to the possibility of something between us.

The butterflies start dancing in my stomach as I get closer to his house. I’m nervous and excited. A big smile spreads across my face as I thank the Uber driver and make my way inside. Tingles build as I bound into the house and anxiously walk into the kitchen. The lights are on but I don’t see Cameron anywhere.

I can hear the familiar sound of a belt running and the steady thump, thump, thump of his feet on the treadmill. I hang up my coat and put my purse and phone in my room, stopping to give Cocoa a few kisses before checking myself over in the bathroom mirror. I fluff up my hair and refresh my perfume while I slick on a little more gloss. Cocoa stops licking herself long enough to meow at me.

“Don’t judge me!” I say back to her, as if she knows what I’m about to do.

I make my way back out into the kitchen to head toward the gym when I see a glistening, sweaty Cameron grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. He’s shirtless and rivulets of sweat are beading all over his cut body. My mouth waters just looking at him.

“How was your date?” he says without looking at me.

I’m caught off-guard by his question. I’m not sure how he figured out who I was with, but I go with it.

“Uh, well, not that great actually. Which is wha—”

“That’s too bad. I mean, it’s a shame you risked this entire deal and fifty thousand dollars for a friend.” He makes sure to emphasize the last word. Clearly, he’s upset.

“What? What happened? How did I risk everything?” I’m completely confused.

“Use your head, Samantha. Everyone knows me in this town and I’m supposed to be engaged to you. How will it look to the Smithfields if my fiancée is photographed out with another man?”

Suddenly I feel like an idiot and can see why he’d be frustrated. I really hadn’t even considered that. I open my mouth to apologize again, “You’re ri—”

“What’s worse is I tried warning you not to when we were in Georgia, but you were too stubborn to listen and you still went. I told you it wasn’t a good idea, Samantha! You signed a contract stating you would be engaged to me. Pretend or not, it’s a legally binding contract!” He’s practically spitting the words at me now, each one punctuated by a finger thrust toward me.

“Okay, first of all, you did not tell me it would be a bad idea because of possible photographers. Might I remind you that what you said to me was to ‘remember whose cock I had in my mouth!’” Now I’m pissed.

“It’s just common sense, but clearly you’re just so driven by your libido that you have to bounce from one guy to the next without so much as a breath between them.” His chest is rapidly rising and failing as he lifts the water to his lips and chugs it.

I’m stunned. I don’t even know what to say, so I stoop to insults.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Mr. ‘My Last “Relationship” Was Bending a Girl Over a Public Restroom Counter and Fucking Her Before I Even Got Her Name!’ Don’t you dare throw this in my face. You made it clear that I was nothing more than a dirty fuck and a contract. You have no right to be pissed at me for pursuing a real relationship outside of whatever the dysfunctional hell this is,” I say as I motion between the two of us. Tears have started to fall down my cheeks—tears of anger.

A smirk spreads across his face, “You don’t have to reduce yourself to insults, Samantha, just because you were careless tonight and clearly in the wrong. You know you were wrong. You know you could have blown everything, but you won’t admit it. Pathetic,” he mutters before turning his back on me to walk out of the room.

“Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic? A grown-ass man who is so successful, yet he has to trick his clients into signing with him because he’s that morally reprehensible. How hard would it be for you to actually be a better man rather than paying someone to pretend for you?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but it’s too late.

“Morally reprehensible? You’re the one who sold yourself for fifty thousand dollars, sweetheart.”

Chapter Fourteen

Cameron

I see the tears fall down her cheeks and the shock set in as soon as I say the words. I’m disgusted with myself, but instead of begging for forgiveness, I let my pride take over and I walk away.

I don’t know how long she stands there, but I can’t stay in the same room. I rush up the stairs to my bedroom and throw the now-empty water bottle against the wall. I can’t stand the man I’ve become. The truth is, she was right. I should just be a better man instead of pretending—tricking clients into thinking that I care about the environment or that I’m a quality family man.

I walk into the bathroom and step into the shower before the water even has a chance to warm up. I place my hands on the wall in front of me and hang my head. I’m jealous. I don’t want any man touching her. I want her for myself. I want her to want me the way she wants Dr. Ken.

I hate that I have to compete with some bastard I don’t even know. Maybe it’s my pride, or maybe it’s because I’ve never had a woman choose another man over me. I pound my fist against the marble wall in frustration. I need to call Griffin and talk this out. Maybe he can help talk some sense into me.

After I towel off, I grab my phone and send Griffin a quick text.

I know it’s late, but care to grab a beer?

I get dressed while I wait for his reply. I hear a buzz and check the messages.

Oh boy, how badly did you fuck up this time?

I can’t help but smile; he knows me too well.

Colossal, man. Meet me at Finnigan’s Pub?

Give me twenty.

“You weren’t kidding, man, that’s pretty colossal. I mean, even for you, those were some pretty cruel and harsh words.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” I say as I hang my head in shame again. “She just tries my patience and drives me crazy at the same time.” I put my hands in a circle like I’m strangling something.

Griffin just lets out a loud laugh, throws his head back, and slaps the bar top. “Holy shit, I never thought I’d see the day.” My brows knit together as I take a long swig of my beer.

“You’re in love, brother!” he says, giving me a loud smack on the back as I almost spit my beer out of my nose.

I wipe the dribble off my chin, “In love? Whoa, whoa, whoa, that is not the situation here. I’m just not used to having a woman reject me, especially after we’ve…”

Griffin’s eyes grow wide, “Wait, you guys have been sleeping together? You left out that bit of information earlier.”

I rub my forehead in aggravation, “Yeah. I tried not to, I swear—but my God, she’s like kryptonite for me, man. I cannot resist when she looks at me; it’s like every tempting thing on this planet that was ever created all rolled into one.” I’m lost in my own thoughts of her as the words leave my mouth.

Griffin smiles. “I know exactly how you feel, Cam, trust me. But what the hell did you think was going to happen when you started sleeping together? We both know the whole friends-with-benefits lie is complete bullshit.”

“I was honest with her, Grif. I told her that I wasn’t looking for long-term, and that I don’t do relationships or marriage and all that. Once this is done, we will go our separate ways as planned. Trust me, she has her eyes on some doctor she works with.”

“Oh, you thought that little caveat would keep her from developing feelings?” he says sarcastically.

“She doesn’t have feelings for me. I just told you she’s talking to some doctor asshole and is apparently dating him now.” I finish the rest of my beer and wave over the bartender for another.

Griffin lets me continue to throw a pity party, but more than anything, it’s just making me realize what an asshole I’ve been. After another drink, we both head home and I decide that I need to apologize to Sam.

I don’t plan on telling her why I lashed out, plus I think Griffin is full of shit. I’m not in love with her. It’s just all the emotions from sex getting in the way, not to mention the sting of rejection.

It’s late by the time I get home, and I poke my head in her room and see her fast asleep with Cocoa beside her on a pillow. I reach down and give Cocoa’s head some scratches, and she gives me a couple quick sniffs before nestling down and purring. She is a pretty cute cat and it’s damn near adorable how much Sam cares about her.

I head back to my room and strip down to my boxers. I slide into bed and the cold sheets feel refreshing against my skin. I can’t stop thinking about the way Samantha makes me feel. Is this love? I wouldn’t know, to be honest. I’ve never experienced it before.

The next morning, Sam has already left for work. It’s a Saturday, so while I don’t normally work, I decide to head into the office to get my mind off of our fight last night. I shuffle through case files and court documents, not digesting anything that I’m reading. Finally, I flip on the giant flat screen in my office and watch ESPN for a while before I decide I can’t focus.

I pull out my phone and find a local florist, ordering a few dozen roses I can pick up on the way home. I also call Samantha’s favorite restaurant and place a to-go order for later this evening. I want to show her that I’m not always a complete asshole who only thinks about getting in her pants and pissing people off.

It’s nearing 7:30 p.m. when I hear the front door open. I’ve checked my watch nervously for the past hour or so, anxiously awaiting her arrival. I walk into the kitchen to see her standing at the counter with her eyes closed. Her hair is piled high on her head, leaving her long, slender neck exposed. I try not to get sidetracked by thoughts of running my lips along her supple skin. She lets out a long sigh as her hands massage her neck and her head lolls forward.

“Long day?” I say, startling her.

She places her hand on her chest to steady herself. “Jesus, you scared me. Yeah, kind of forgot how long these twelve-hour shifts feel after not working for five days.” She’s tense and I can tell last night is still bothering her.

She gives me a small smile and grabs her bag before starting for her room.

“Samantha?”

She stops and turns toward me. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I was out of line last night and well, frankly, I was a complete asshole. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” I can see relief start to wash over her face as her features soften.

“Actually, I was going to apologize to you. I—I don’t know what got into me last night, and you were right about my careless and thoughtless actions. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you. I didn’t mean it.”

I step toward her, unsure of what I’m doing. Do I kiss her? Hug her? I do neither.

“I, uh, have an apology dinner prepared in the dining room. I picked up your favorite, Agostino’s.”

“Cam, you didn’t have to do that.”

This time, I step closer and cup her cheek. Something stirs in my stomach and I realize: this woman is everything I want. I have never in my life been prompted to say those three little words, but suddenly, it’s all I can do to hold back from yelling them. I lean in and place a soft kiss on her lips. I pull back and look at her, then lean in again, this time covering her bottom lip with my own, pulling it into my mouth to softly suck on.

She quickly steps back and pulls my hand from her face. “I should really get out of these scrubs. Trust me, you don’t want hospital germs all over you.” She smiles and walks away, but something still feels off.

“Mmm…” A soft moan escapes her lips and her eyelids flutter shut as she wraps them around her fork. While I’m preoccupied with trying to figure out how to fix things, I can’t help my body’s reaction to her sounds. My dick twitches, and I’ve never been so jealous of a bit of lasagna before.

“Hey, so I was thinking…” She places her fork down on her plate and takes a long sip of her wine. Shit, this doesn’t sound good.

“I think that us sleeping together really complicated things. I know this is a job and we both have lives outside of this once it’s over, so maybe it’s best if we just keep it simple.”

Ah, the easy letdown. Seems like she’s made up her mind about being with Dr. Whatever-the-Fuck-His-Name-Is.

“Did I do something wrong in bed? Something you didn’t like?” I fish for an explanation. I want to hear her say she doesn’t want me.

“No! No…no. It was good. I just think it muddied the waters a little. We could just say it was a fun Georgia thing and go back to how things were before.”

I nod slowly. This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. If she doesn’t want me and wants to be with this other guy, I wish she’d just come out and say it. I can feel my blood pressure rising and I have to remind myself that this isn’t about me. I need to give her space and let do what’s right for her. Who the fuck am I these days?!

“Yeah, I agree. That makes perfect sense.” I raise my glass. “Here’s to finishing out the contract with no more fights.” I finish off my glass in one gulp and get up to grab something stronger. If this is how she wants to play it, then I’m going to need some Scotch to help my blue balls and broken heart.

The next few weeks are fucking torture. Things between Samantha and me have actually been really great. We’ve settled into a routine of work schedules and a few outings here and there. It’s like she’s become one of my closest friends. The only difference is, I ashamedly beat off in the shower every night to thoughts of her. I’m not proud of it, but it keeps me from savagely punching a hole in the wall every time I see her.

Her new idea is to have me teach her how to work out. I thought it was bad seeing her in regular clothes around the house! Now she’s squatting with her spandex-clad ass practically in my crotch and her full, perky tits bouncing in my face. Goddammit, I’m going to have a stroke!

Tonight I’ve decided to sneak into the gym before she gets home from work. Hopefully, I can avoid being tortured for an hour. Just as I step onto the treadmill, however, she pokes her head around the corner.

“Hey! I thought you were going to wait for me!”

Fuuuuuuuck me!

“I’m going to change; I’ll be right back.” I hear her scurry to her room and images of her shimmying into those skintight leggings pop into my head. I slam my hand down on the emergency stop of the treadmill. I’ve got about two minutes to formulate a plan before I lose my ever-loving mind.

“Okay, okay, I can do this,” I say aloud to myself as I nod my head. If she wants to tease the hell out of me, then two can play at that game. I rip off my shirt and look at myself in the mirrored wall. I’m going to tease the shit out of her—give her a taste of her own medicine. Before she enters the room, I pull my shirt back on, deciding a slow tease will be better.

Just then, she comes bounding back into the gym. Her luscious breasts and perky ass are on full display, covered by a barely-there stretch of fabric.

“Why don’t you warm up on the treadmill for ten minutes?” I say as I start the belt and bump up the incline.

I walk over the pull-up bar and make sure I’m facing her as I pound out several sets. I can see her trying not to watch me, but she’s failing. After several sets of pull-ups and curls, I lift my shirt to wipe the sweat from my brow. She’s messing around on her phone, but my movements catch her eye and she looks up just as I slowly pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor.

I can see her lips part as her tongue darts out to wet them. She almost stumbles but quickly catches herself before the treadmill beeps and comes to a standstill.

“Ready for some squats?” she says as she heads over to the squat rack. She thinks she’s being clever, but I’m on to her.

“Yeah, I think it’s time we upped your weight. Go a little heavier.”

“You sure? Last time was pretty heavy already.”

“Yeah, absolutely. You’re getting stronger,” I say as I load up the bar. I want it heavy enough that she needs me right up against her to help her.

She warms up with a few lighter reps then goes in for the heavy stuff. “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.” I place my body just close enough so she can feel the heat radiating from my chest, then I place my hands on her hips.

“Make sure you’re keeping the weight in your heels and really sticking your butt out on the way down, okay?” She nods her head and starts to lower her body.

I can feel her struggling on the way up, so I press myself against her and bear some of the weight for her.

“That’s way too heavy, Cameron. I don’t feel comfortable.”

I tell her to try one more time, and when she does, I don’t step back before she lowers down—causing her ass to land squarely against my crotch. She quickly bolts upright and re-racks the weight.

“See, I knew you had it in you!” I say, pretending I didn’t notice.

“I don’t feel like working out tonight, actually. I think I’ll just take a long soak in the tub and give my muscles a break.”

I’m disappointed, but I don’t let it show. Clearly, my plan is working. “Suit yourself.” I continue with my workout as she makes her way out of the gym.

After we’ve both cleaned up, we’re standing around in the kitchen preparing something to eat. I take full advantage of opportunities to walk up behind her and help her reach a glass on the top shelf while I lightly press my body against hers or rest my hand on her hip or lower back as I move to step around her.

I can see her frustration building until finally she snaps. “Stop it, Cameron!”

I turn around slowly with a dumbfounded look on my face. “Stop what?”

“I know what you’re doing! So just stop.” I step closer to her.

“What am I doing, Samantha?” Her breathing becomes more rapid.

“You’re trying to seduce me. You keep touching me. It’s not working, so give it up.” She steps back and hits the counter behind her.

I can’t help but smile. It’s clearly working. I step forward until we’re mere inches apart and lower my mouth until I’m hovering above hers.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, Samantha. If I were seducing you, you wouldn’t be able to resist.” Her lips part again and I can see her pulse at the base of her neck.

Her eyes drop to my mouth and she’s fighting hard not to lean in and close the small distance between us. She fails. She presses her lips against mine as she raises her hand to wrap around the back of my neck, but before she can, I reach up and grab it while I pull away and break the kiss.

“I thought we agreed we didn’t want to muddy the waters.” I make sure to use her exact phrase.

She rolls her eyes and pushes past me. I know she’s upset and probably embarrassed that I turned her down, but I want her to need me. I want her so wrapped up in desiring me that she tells me what she wants without thinking about it first.

Chapter Fifteen

Samantha

I kick off the covers in exasperation. I can’t sleep and I know the reason why: Cameron. I can’t stop thinking about the way his body felt against mine earlier. Why the hell did I ever suggest we stop hooking up?

I groan in frustration and decide a little self-satisfaction might do the trick. I reach into my nightstand and pull out my trusty vibrator. I close my eyes and images of his shirtless body pepper my thoughts. I place the vibrating head against my clit and gasp at the sensations that ripple through my body. It doesn’t take long before my breathing becomes rapid and shallow and I’m grabbing at the pillow behind me. I’m so close that my toes curl and a light sheen of sweat covers my body.

“Would you like some help?” Cameron’s voice breaks my concentration and my eyes pop open. What the hell?

I sit up and try to cover myself with my sheet as I look up and see him leaning against my doorframe. Did I really leave the door wide open?

“What the fuck? Get out!” I toss a pillow at him but miss by a mile.

He doesn’t say a word as he stalks toward me. He simply lifts my t-shirt and pulls my panties down, placing the still-vibrating toy against my clit. I gasp and fall back against my pillow again.

I can hear him saying something to me, but I can’t make out what it is. I’m so close again—oh God, I’m right there! His voice becomes weirder and louder, almost like a wounded animal. I’m so confused, but I don’t want to stop. I’m just about to climax when I feel a thump on my chest and the crying noise wakes me.

I sit up in a daze as Cocoa flies off my chest and runs to her food dish, crying.

Oh my God, it was a dream? I put my pillow over my face and scream into it.

I huff loudly and refill Cocoa’s bowl. I can’t sleep and now I’m so beyond sexually frustrated I’m about to climb the walls and yowl like my cat. I grab my empty water glass and head out to the kitchen. I drag my feet as I walk into the living room but stop when I see Cameron reclined in a chaise lounge facing the windows.

I know I said we shouldn’t confuse the situation by sleeping with each other, but I can’t take it any longer. I want him. I need to feel his body against mine. I swallow a gulp of water and walk over to where’s reclining and stand beside him without a word. He doesn’t look up but reaches out and runs his hand up my bare leg.

He knows why I’m down here and I’m guessing he can’t sleep for the same reason. Without a word, I set my glass on the table and place one leg to the left of the chair, and the other on the right, before lowering myself down to straddle him.

He doesn’t hesitate. He runs one hand up my thigh and grips my ass as his other hand grips the back of my neck and brings my lips to his. No words are necessary in this moment. The kiss isn’t rushed or hard—it’s tender and passionate. His eyes are fixed on mine as he gently caresses my mouth with his own before slipping his tongue inside. My core clenches and I can feel my hips grinding against him, almost involuntarily.

This feels different. It’s intense and heated, like we’re both taking our time and savoring each touch—each moment before it’s gone.

His tongue continues to massage mine as his free hand skims up my body under my t-shirt and cups my breast. He runs his thumb across my hardened nipple and I gasp. I’ve never had a man elicit this kind of response from me with just a simple touch. I’m breathless, and I let my head fall back as his lips move down my jawline to my neck. He licks, sucks, and nibbles his way down until he lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it to the ground. I’m completely exposed to him.

His assault on my body doesn’t stop. He continues to explore my breasts with his mouth, massaging one with his hand while he sucks on the other. His other hand moves to the apex of my thighs and begins to rub small circles on my clit with his thumb. I’m already so primed from my dream that I’m seconds away from exploding.

I thrust my hips forward with his movements as he once again grabs the back of my neck. “Look at me,” he says in a whisper as my body moves closer and closer to the edge. “You are so beautiful,” he says as he licks my bottom lip before placing a gentle kiss there. I place my hands on his shoulders and grip firmly as he slips a finger inside me. I’m done. I moan loudly as the orgasm takes over my body. I’m panting and my head begins to fall back, but he won’t let it.

“Keep looking at me. I want to watch you.” His words make me even hotter, and I’m riding out the last waves of pleasure when he pulls his finger from me and brings it up to his mouth, licking off my juices.

His cock is hard beneath me, and I reach down to stroke him through his boxers before I try to remove them completely. But before I can free him, he’s standing up and carrying me to his room. He doesn’t waste time as he lays me back on the bed and removes his boxers before crawling up me and centering himself at my entrance.

I wince a little as he pushes himself inside me, but it isn’t long before we’re both moving in a rhythm of pleasure. He continues to kiss me as be thrusts himself into me over and over, causing me to moan. His eyes are locked on mine. He’s making love to me; this isn’t fucking.

I can feel his movements growing more erratic as we both feel frantic. He kisses me like he’s never kissed me before. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something with his body.

“I—I’m…” I pant as he pulls back and watches me fall apart again. I don’t even have to finish the sentence—it’s like he can read my body’s every movement. This time I don’t look away. Our gaze stays fixed as waves of pleasure rock my body, and it’s only seconds later that he says my name over and over as he spills himself inside me. His face is buried in the crook of my neck as he plants a soft kiss on it.

We both lie still, wrapped up in each other without a word as we drift off to sleep. My eyes are finally so heavy I can no longer keep them open, and for a brief moment, I swear I hear him whisper “I love you,” but before I can say anything, I succumb to sleep.

It’s my day off, and I finally pull myself out of bed around 9:30 a.m. Cameron has already left for work. I poke my head out of the room to make sure the maid isn’t around and scurry my naked ass back to my bedroom to put on some clothes. I can smell fresh-brewed coffee, so I make my way to the kitchen and find a note from Cameron.

Good morning, sleepyhead. You looked too gorgeous and peaceful, so I tried to slip out unnoticed. I set the coffee maker to go off around 9 a.m. and there’s a surprise for you in the fridge. Have a great day. ;-)

A huge grin spreads across my face as I read the note again. It feels like something changed between us last night. I don’t want to get too excited about a little note, though, so I grab a cup of coffee and head to my room to text El.

Hey girl, how’s the pregnancy? Baby still making you pee every 3.5 seconds?

Her response is almost immediate.

Funny you should ask! I just left my obstetrician. Everything is looking good, but yes, peeing nonstop and starting to feel like a giant gassy whale. What about YOU? Things any better since Grif talked to Cam?

My brows knit together, “What?” I say aloud.

What do you mean? Talk about what?

A second later, my phone is ringing and El’s name appears on the screen.

“Hey, what are you talking about?”

“Sorry, I thought you knew. A few weeks ago, Cam told Griffin you guys had some big fight and they went out for beers to talk. I’m guessing he didn’t say anything about it to you?”

“Well, obviously not.” As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel a little butthurt by it. Why was he talking to Griffin about me and our fight? “Do you know what they talked about?” I pick at the cuticle of my nail nervously.

“Well, like I said, some fight you guys had. I just know Griffin came home and was kind of laughing about it all. I guess Cameron told him he’d fucked up royally and that he wasn’t sure how to fix things. Seems like you guys were able to, though, since I haven’t received any ‘I’m going to kill him’ texts?”

“Yeah, we both said some things we shouldn’t have and apologized. Things have been great the past few weeks…” My voice trails off. I never told El that I slept with Cameron or that I went on the date with Dr. Ken. Before I can address either of those, though, she interrupts my thoughts.

“So, when were you going to tell me you slept with him then dumped him for Dr. McSexy?” Shit.

“About that. First of all, I didn’t dump him for Dr. Ken. We had a planned date that just wasn’t scheduled yet. But yeah, I screwed up, El. I slept with Cameron, but then when I went on my date with Ken, all I could think about was Cam! I wanted to tell him, but that’s when we had that big fight. I never got the chance, then I told him I thought it best that we stop our physical relationship since things were getting weird. I think…I think I was falling for him, but we’d both made it clear that this was just a no-strings-attached thing. But now…now I know I’m in love with him, and he’s finding out today if he landed the contract or not, so I’ll be out of his life soon.”

I can hear her let out a breath like she’s mulling over everything.

“You haven’t told him any of that?”

“No. I don’t want to end up like every other woman in his life. I keep telling myself that if I just ignore it, it will go away and I’ll get over my stupid little crush. But last night, El—last night was different. It felt like he was seeing me for the first time.”

“Sam, speaking from personal experience here, you need to tell the man how you feel. Otherwise, you’re going to live with regret and it’s not worth it. If he tells you that it meant nothing to him, then you’ll realize that he isn’t right for you. It would suck and be incredibly painful, but at least you’d have that closure.”

I know she’s right, but the thought of being so vulnerable with him is terrifying.

“You know, I thought for a minute the other night…no, never mind.”

“What, Sam? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, honestly. I think I was dreaming, but I swear I heard him say, ‘I love you.’ We were both half-asleep, so I think I was just delusional.”

“That would be a dude thing to do,” she says.

“How about this: tonight he’ll tell me if he got the contract or not. I’ll see how he handles the next steps in our contract—the whole ‘breaking up and moving out’ thing. If he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to just toss the contract out the window, then I’m not going to tell him.”

“Well, I think that’s a completely stupid idea, but I’ve said my piece. Just know that I love you and support you, Sam. When this is all over, whatever the outcome, you’ll be fine because you’re strong. I’m sorry to just dip out, but this baby is about to make me pee myself, so I have to go. I love you, Sam. Keep me posted, okay?”

“I will, and thanks for the support, El. Good luck with the bladder issues. Get some diapers—for yourself, I mean!” I can hear her laughing when I hang up.

I decide a good way to set the scene for tonight is to return Cameron’s dinner date, only I’ll actually cook for him. I hit the gym for a quick run on the treadmill before showering and heading out to pick up some groceries.

I’m not a master chef by any stretch of the imagination, but I can cook a mean lamb chop. We were poor growing up, but once a year on Easter, my mom would save up for a lamp chop and let me help her with the preparations.

It’s nearing 6:30 p.m. when I hear the front door open. The aroma of the meat and the couscous salad I’ve made fill the apartment. I haven’t texted him to find out how today went, but I’ve presumptuously chilled a bottle of champagne.

“Smells amazing in here!” he says as he walks into the kitchen. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, didn’t you have that big meeting with Mr. Smithfield and his team today?”

A big toothy grin spreads across his face. “I did, and we got him!” he says with his arms outstretched.

I’m not sure if he’s just pumping his fists in celebration or reaching out to me, so I give him a double high-five to be safe. I can see from the underwhelmed look on his face that he was hoping to pull me in for an embrace.

I turn back to the food and begin to dish up our plates. “Why don’t you go change? Dinner is almost ready.”

“What is it? It smells fantastic,” he says, reaching into one of the pots to dip his finger in some potatoes.

I playfully smack his hand away and he hurries off to go change.

When he emerges a few moments later, I’ve set the table and I hold two glasses of champagne in my hands. I hand him one as he walks back into the kitchen. He still has a look of confusion on his face as he takes the sparkling beverage.

“All this for the contract?”

I shrug, “Well, yeah, I mean, you’ve worked so hard and spent so much money I thought you’d want to celebrate.” I lift up my glass and he does the same. “To many more successes at Styles, Schmidt & Fitz, and to you getting your personal space back and me out of your hair.”

He stares at me blankly for a moment and then mutters a half-hearted “cheers” before downing the entire glass. I’m not sure what changed from the time he got home to now, but there’s once again a heavy tension hanging in the air. I make small talk but we mostly eat our dinner in silence. Every once in a while, he chimes in again about how good it all is.

After dinner, he helps me clear the table and clean up, but then retreats to his home office without a word. It’s like the warmth and closeness we had experienced last night have been sucked away. Maybe this is his way of making it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me now that the contract has ended.

It’s all starting to make sense. This is probably how he handles most women in his life. He’s charming and funny at first—reeling them in before seducing them, and then poof!—cold and aloof so they get the hint and leave on their own so he doesn’t have to look like the bad guy. The more I think about it, the angrier I become. I retreat to my room and begin to pack up my things. The contract stipulates that I have to stay another week after the deal is signed, but I don’t know if I can stick around that long.

I have to work the next two days from 7 a.m. - 7 p.m., then I’ll be off the following two days. I could pretty much miss seeing Cameron altogether with that schedule. If I stay a little late at work and eat dinner there tomorrow, he will most likely be in the gym when I get home. I’ll just slip into my room and stay there until I have to leave for work the next morning.

I should be able to find a place to live in no time. I pick up my phone and begin to frantically look at places within my budget since Cameron broke my lease early. I find two and email the management companies—begging them for a showing after work tomorrow. I need to get out of here before I end up spilling my guts to Cameron while having my heart ripped out.

Chapter Sixteen

Cameron

I twirl the crystal tumbler around in my hand. Samantha’s message at dinner was loud and clear. She was happy and excited to be done with me. I guess I can’t blame her. I told her that she was just a quick, dirty fuck to me. But I’d changed, and my actions had shown that to her over the last few weeks. Hadn’t she noticed?

I get up and pour myself another glass of Scotch. I’m not actually getting any work done in my home office, but I don’t want to risk seeing her—watching her float around the house with her long legs and bright eyes. If she flashed that megawatt smile at me, I’d be a dead man.

I should have known last night when I told her I loved her and she didn’t reciprocate. At first I thought she had just fallen asleep, but now I realize she simply did that to spare me the shame of rejection.

I feel like a complete idiot. I swear there were moments she felt it too—this thing that’s between us. I take another big gulp of liquor and let it burn my throat on the way down. This just reconfirms why I don’t get involved in relationships.

I spend the next day and a half sulking. I figure, if I don’t have to see her, I won’t. I spend an extra amount of time in the gym, hoping I can punch and lift away my frustrations. I also indulge in an extra helping or two of Scotch at night, which I know isn’t helping my damn mood.

Finally, I can’t take my own sulking any longer and I knock on her bedroom door. There’s no answer. I look down at my watch and realize she’s probably still at work. I pop open the door to say hi to Cocoa, and when I see Sam’s room, I feel like I’ve been hit in the gut.

Everything is boxed up, except her blanket. Cocoa meows at me from her perch on the bed and it snaps me back to reality. She was just going to leave and not tell me?

I’m startled by a sound behind me. “Hey, you looking for something?” I turn around to see Samantha behind me in her scrubs.

“What the fuck, Sam?” I gesture toward the almost-empty room and the pile of boxes in the corner.

“What? Our contract is up at the end of the week and I figured I’d get a head start.” She pushes past me and walks into the room, tossing her bag on the bed and scratching Cocoa.

“Where are you going to live? You could have asked me to help, you know.” I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves instead of jumping to conclusions. That’s what got us in trouble last time.

“I’ve found a place in the suburbs, actually. I’ve been wanting to take a job out of the city in a private practice, and I have an interview at one tomorrow.”

I nod my head, trying to take it all in. “Can I help with anything?” I’m not really sure what to say.

“No, I’ve already called a mover and since it’s not a lot, they said they could knock it out in, like, two hours.”

I walk over to give Cocoa a scratch on her head and she begins to purr and rub against me. I can’t help but smile a little at her, but then an envelope with my name on it on the nightstand catches my eye.

I pick it up and open it. “No—don’t!” Sam says as she lunges for it, but I’m too quick. Her reaction has made me twice as curious now. I open it and see a letter: a goodbye letter. I scan it as my heart falls to my stomach.

“You were going to leave without telling me, weren’t you?” She’s staring at her feet. “Look at me, Samantha!” The words come out of my mouth in sharp barks.

She jolts upward in shock. “Well, I guess I’m not now,” she says, anger burning in her eyes.

I’m hurt. It’s not anger or frustration that’s boiling up inside me—it’s hurt. I had hoped I was reading the signs wrong the entire time, but this validates my fear: she wants nothing to do with me.

I toss the letter back onto the nightstand and make my way out of the room. I stop briefly, and without turning around, say, “I won’t get in your way, Sam. The other check will be on the counter for you in the morning. Have a nice life.” I shut the door behind me and head back to my room.

It’s been barely a week since she moved out. She didn’t say goodbye, didn’t leave me her address, and didn’t even text me. She just left that damn letter on the counter next to the ring. Talk about a kick to the fucking stomach.

I stare out the window at the city, but the light behind me causes me to catch my reflection in the window. I’m unshaven and unkempt. My hair is a wild mess, and I’m pretty positive I haven’t showered in three days.

It physically hurts—that’s how much I miss her. I even miss the damn cat. I miss the way she always hummed “Moon River” on repeat while she did pretty much anything.

Griffin has tried to reach out to me a few times, but I’ve told him I’m not in the mood. My law partners are worried sick, but I’ve just told them it’s a bout of pneumonia and that I’ll be back in no time.

If I’m honest, I thought that if a woman ever got to me, I’d bounce back like it was nothing. I always figured that, after a few hours of reflection, I’d be back in the clubs looking for my next conquest…but nope. This real love shit is the worst. No wonder Griffin was a wreck when he heard El had skipped town. At least he had the balls to go after her. Heartbreak is no joke.

I groan as I rub my hands over my face. The doorbell buzzes, bringing me out of my moment of wallowing. I check the time on my phone, “Who the fuck is here this late?” I walk to the front door and barely get it open before El is pushing her way into my house.

“You have to go talk to her!” She’s barely over five feet tall, but she has her finger pointed right up in my face.

“Hello, El, nice to see you too.”

“I’m serious, Cameron, you need to tell her how you feel. And before you try to deny it, you look like complete shit. You have ‘heartbroken, lovesick, and hung over’ written all over your unshaven face.” Jesus, this woman has a flea up her ass, though she isn’t wrong.

“Trust me, El, I made my intentions clear to her. I told her I loved her and she didn’t reciprocate.” I turn around and walk farther into the kitchen in search of a much-needed bottle of water.

“You what? She never said anything about that. When did that happen?” She looks deflated.

“Over a week ago. I had apologized to her and we had an amazing night and I was holding her and whispered it in her ear.” I can’t believe I’m confessing this to her.

“OH. MY. GOD. Cam, she thought she was dreaming! She told me that she thought she heard you say that, but she figured you were asleep or she had imagined it or was dreaming or something.”

I stand there a little dumbfounded. Shit. Maybe she really had been asleep.

“Well, it’s too late anyway, El. She’s dating that doctor, and I’m sure he can give her the whole suburban fantasy of kids and a minivan or whatever.”

She rolls her eyes, “Man, you really are something stupid.” Her words shock me.

“She isn’t dating Dr. McSe—Dr. Ken. She went on one date with him and told me that she couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time. She doesn’t even work at his hospital anymore.” She throws her hands up in the air and walks over to grab a bottle of water.

“You know, it’s astounding how little you two communicated throughout all of this. Sure, you slept together, but would it have killed either of you to just say, ‘Hey, I like you. Can we try this?’ I mean, my God, I am pissed out of my pregnant mind because of you! Next time, do me a favor and exhaust all of your options before you guys turn this into some big drawn-out thing that nearly sends me into labor. Jesus!”

I can’t help but laugh a little at her outburst and the fact that I’ve been wallowing for no reason. The poor woman rubs her belly before darting to the bathroom. I can’t believe I completely misread everything. I’m such a fucking idiot. But then panic hits me again. Just because she isn’t dating the doctor doesn’t mean she wants to be with me. She still celebrated leaving here and ran at the first chance. She’s never tried contacting me or telling me how she feels.

I’m deep in thought when El emerges from the bathroom. “Do yourself a favor and don’t starting questioning things. I can see it all over your face. She’s in love with you, Cameron. She told me weeks ago, but like you, she misread everything and made her own crazy assumptions instead of just telling you how she feels. Though in her defense, your track record with leaving women high and dry freaked her out.”

“Yeah, not to mention I also told her the last woman I’d been with was a hookup in a public restroom at a club.”

She has a totally reasonable look of disgust on her face, “Why? Just why, Cam?” She rolls her eyes and makes her way toward the door. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. But be warned,” she turns to face me and grabs a fistful of my shirt, causing my 6’4” frame to bend down to her eye level, “if you hurt her or treat her like some piece of ass, I will honor my earlier promise: I will rip your balls off—CLEAN OFF!” She emphasizes the last two words with a grabbing motion. I can’t help but be a little scared as I swallow down the lump in my throat. “We clear?” she asks.

I stand up and smooth out my shirt as she walks out the front door. “Crystal clear,” I say after her. Sam is the one woman I’m not letting get away. Not a chance in hell.

The next morning, I get ready early and stop by the same florist to pick up some flowers. I jump in my Tesla and punch Samantha’s new address—helpfully provided by El—into my GPS. I got the “all-clear” text from El this morning that Sam would be home today.

It’s about a fifty-five-minute commute to her new place, and my nerves are in overdrive. I jump into the express lane and stomp on the pedal. I manage to cut the trip down to forty-three minutes, but I now sit frozen in my car outside her apartment building. Thoughts of doubt still bounce around my head. At this point, though, I have nothing left to lose.

I knock on her door and hear the bell on Cocoa’s collar bouncing around inside. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the cat treats I picked up for her. I hold the flowers over the peephole, figuring Sam might not answer if she sees my face. As the door slowly opens, a look of shock registers on her face.

“Uh, hey,” she says, half-hiding behind the door.

“May I come in?” I ask quietly. She looks down, assesses her outfit, and gingerly opens the door a little more.

“I’m sorry—I wasn’t exactly expecting company.” Her new place is spotless but she’s dressed in one of my t-shirts and sweats. She looks like she’s been going through exactly what I’ve experienced. A wave of relief rolls through me.

“Nice shirt.” I point at it; she must have taken it from the floor of my bedroom after we had…been together.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it. I think I accidentally packed it, actually.” She seems like a shell of herself as she pulls at the oversized clothing. It breaks my heart to know I’m the cause of her pain and sadness.

“Sooo, what are you doing here, Cam?”

“Look, Samantha, I’m going to get straight to the point.” I lay the flowers and treats down on the table. “I’m in love with you. I have been for—well, for a long time. You’re all I think about. I miss your smell, I miss holding you, I even miss Cocoa. I—I know I fucked up big time. I wrongfully assumed that you were dating the doctor and that you wanted nothing to do with me. I thought you were just going along with everything to make the situation more tolerable, but that you didn’t really care for me at all. And you weren’t wrong that night when you thought you heard me say ‘I love you.’ I did, but I was just an idiot and mumbled it when you were already half-asleep. I was scared. I am scared…”

I’m rambling—I can feel the words vomiting out of my mouth, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m not even sure if I’m making sense or getting through to her, but I see big tears well up in her eyes and begin to fall down her cheeks.

I reach out and wipe one away, but I don’t remove my hand from her cheek. “Samantha, I’m sorry. I understand any fear or apprehension you may have about me—about the kind of man I am. I would, too, to be honest. I swear you’ve changed me. You’ve made me want to be the man I’ve always wanted to be. When I think about my life and my future…it’s you. You’re it for me, Sam. You’re my everything.”

She doesn’t say a word. She stands there staring at the floor with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Sam,” I whisper, “say something. Anything.” I’m terrified.

And then she lunges at me. She wraps her arms around my neck so tight. “I love you too,” she says against my neck. I can feel her warm tears against my skin as she exhales a shaky breath and continues, “I wanted you to love me so bad.” I squeeze her tighter.

Suddenly, she pulls away and runs to the bathroom before emerging again. “Sorry, I had to splash some water on my face.” She takes my hand and pulls me to the couch. “I’m sorry, too. I know I made assumptions as well, and to be honest, I judged you. I was terrified of ending up as just another one of the women in your life—still am, actually. I tried to move on. I really did. I wanted to like Dr. Ken so much. I kept telling myself that he’s the kind of man I should be with, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you make me feel, the way you touch me, and the way you look at me when you kiss me. It’s like you’re actually seeing me.”

I reach my hand back up to her cheek and pull her toward my mouth. He lips are soft and plump from her tears. It only takes a second before the kiss deepens and she’s climbing on top of me on the couch. “Wait—wait, Sam! I don’t want you to think this is just about sex, or…” Before I can finish, her lips are back on mine.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she says between kisses. Her tongue snakes its way into my mouth as she paws at the buttons on my shirt. We’re both in a frenzy to strip each other of our clothes. The sound of plastic and yowling interrupts our passionate makeup session, and we both laugh to find Cocoa on the table, chewing on the bag of treats I bought her.

“I actually missed that damn cat, ya know?” Sam smiles at my comment as she climbs off of me to give her a few of the treats. I continue, “I was thinking, when you move back in, she can have free roam of the house.” I pick at the couch cushion nervously.

“When I move back in?” she says, turning around.

“Yeah, I figure you’ve had a week of space. It’s early enough in your lease that we should be able to cancel it without too much of a hassle.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles? You’re just deciding what I’m doing now?”

I give her a smirk as I slowly make my way over to her. “Yes, Ms. Fox, I am. Do you have a problem with that?” I grab a handful of her ass as I take her in a deep, passionate kiss. “That’s what I thought. I like my women obedient and ready to please me at a moment’s notice,” I whisper in her ear as I press her against the wall and shove my hand down her panties. I know she loves when I’m dominant with her; she gets off on the dirty talk.

She’s already wet and panting for me. I bet I can get her off in thirty seconds. She’s writhing against me, and I can feel her getting close. She grabs my shirt and pulls me in for another kiss then whispers in my ear.

“That’s not in the contract, Counselor.”

Epilogue

Samantha

Eighteen months later…

“Samantha!” Cameron shouts my name for the third time.

“I said I’m coming!” I shout back, giving myself a final look in the mirror in our closet. We finally have a date night scheduled with Griffin and El. Since the birth of their son, Quinton, we barely even see them anymore, which is to be expected. We convinced them to grab a babysitter and accompany us out for some drinks and dancing.

“Ow!” I yelp as Cameron’s hand lands a loud smack! on my ass.

“I told you ten minutes ago to get your perky little ass downstairs. Do I need to teach you another lesson in obedience, Ms. Fox?” A tingle runs through my lower belly as I think about the last time he “taught me a lesson in obedience.” He’d left me quivering and begging for release as he teased me for over an hour.

He pulls my back against his chest as he locks eyes with me in the mirror. Placing one hand on my hip, he uses his other to smooth my hair to one side, leaving my neck exposed.

“Maybe,” I say as I bite my bottom lip and push my backside into his growing erection.

He lets out a small groan as he runs his lips up my neck until he gets to my earlobe, nipping it before whispering, “You are such a fucking tease, baby. You sure you want to do this? Just remember it means you’re going to have to explain to our friends why we’re late.”

My knees are weak and I know exactly what he wants me to do. I slowly pull my straps down my arms until the top of my dress falls, exposing my breasts to him.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl,” he says as he moves his hand from my hip to my breast, pinching the nipple as he continues to lick and nibble along my neck. I can feel my pulse quicken and a pressure begin to build between my thighs.

“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to slip your hand up your thigh and into your panties.” I do as he says—all the while keeping my eyes on his. “Now rub your clit for me.”

I slowly begin to rub my clit, slickness already coating my fingers. I quicken my pace as the pleasure begins to build even faster. Cameron continues to whisper naughty things in my ear as he pinches my nipple and bites my neck. “Put your fingers in that tight little pussy, baby. I want to see you cum.” With those words, I slide two fingers inside myself as my top half falls forward and I catch myself against the mirror with my free hand. My body convulses as my thighs clench together. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me from my earlobes to my toes.

Cameron pulls my hand from my panties and licks my fingers clean before pulling the straps up my dress and covering my breasts. “Good job, sweetheart. Now go clean up and come downstairs. We’re late.” He gives me a soft kiss and winks before he turns and walks out of the room.

We laugh and scroll through what must be hundreds of pictures of Griffin and El’s toddler. I can’t believe my best friend is a mom. The looks on both their faces fill me with so much joy and cause a tear to prick my eye. “When are we going to have one of those?” Cameron leans over and mumbles in my ear.

I stare back at him in shock. “Are you serious?” We’ve certainly talked about a future together, but neither of us has seriously or even jokingly discussed children. Truthfully, I never thought I’d want children. Cocoa was enough, but over the last few months, I must admit my maternal instincts have kicked into overdrive.

“Just a thought, baby. Nothing we need to decide right now.” He kisses the top of my head and we lift our glasses to Griffin and El and their little bundle of joy.

“You guys ready for some karaoke?” Cam says as he rubs his hands together in excitement.

“Oh boy, I’m more nervous about this than I was about labor!” El jokes.

Cam and Griffin had told us about this karaoke bar they’d found and insisted we had to check it out. I’m not shy, but singing in front of others isn’t exactly my forte.

The bar isn’t too busy, so I’m hopeful I won’t make too much of a fool of myself. We watch a few others go first and my nerves calm a little.

“Next up, Janelle and Samantha singing ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ by Cindi Lauper,” the emcee announces.

“What?” I exclaim. El laughs as she grabs my hand and pulls me up on stage.

“I knew if I told you, you’d back out,” El admits. They hand us microphones and the music starts up. “Just go with it!”

I let loose and sing my heart out, dancing around the stage and having the time of my life. We finish our song and head back to the guys, who are cheering, whistling, and giving us a standing ovation.

“Next up, Cameron singing ‘Wonderful Tonight’ by Eric Clapton.”

Cameron squeezes my arm on his way up to the stage. “Before I sing this, I want to take a moment to say something to an amazing woman.”

My heart is pounding and I can’t stop the huge grin from spreading across my face.

“Samantha, I thought I was happy and that I knew what I wanted in life before I met you. I thought I was content being an arrogant and pompous ass, and that pushing people away was the answer to my own issues. But since you’ve come into my life, you have shown me what it means to be happy. You have shown me through your own values and actions that I not only need to be a better man, but that I want to be a better man, because I want to be the kind of man who deserves you. Sam, I love you more than words can express; thank you for showing me what true love is.”

Everyone cheers and claps as the music starts up and Cameron serenades me. He puts on a show, walking around the room and hitting all the notes perfectly. I had no idea singing was one of his many talents.

As the song comes to an end, he hits the last note on bended knee in front of me. The spotlight is on both of us as he reaches into his pocket. “Samantha, you are everything I could wish for. When I’m with you, I’m home. Will you marry me?” He pulls out a gorgeous princess-cut champagne diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds. The light catches the ring and I’m dumbfounded. It was the ring I had pointed out at Tiffany’s almost two years ago. He remembered!

“Yes! Yes!” I say as tears pour down my face. He slips the ring on my finger and pulls me in for a tear-soaked kiss. I wrap my arms around him and he stands, picking me up and spinning me around to the cheers of the crowd.

I wipe the tears away as El pipes up and raises her glass, “I just want to take this moment to take credit for setting this up. If it hadn’t been for me suggesting that Sam take your stupid-ass fake fiancée job, we wouldn’t be sitting here celebrating this.” We laugh as we raise our glasses and toast to a bright future together.

I walk in our front door, still staring at the beautiful ring that now sits honestly on my hand. Cameron shuts the door and wraps his arms around me. “So, Ms. Fox, are you sure you’re ready to become Mrs. Styles?”

I wrap my arms around his neck, “Oh, without a doubt. But are you sure that you’re ready to settle down your wild bachelor ways with one woman?”

“Wait—one woman? This isn’t going to be an open marriage?” he says in mock surprise. “I don’t recall that being in the contract.”

I jokingly pinch him and roll my eyes as I lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re mine now. Trust me, Counselor, I’ll make sure it’s in the contract.”

WANT TO READ MORE FROM ALEXIS WINTER?

Business & Pleasure: Castille Hotel Series Book 1

Baby Mistake: Castille Hotel Series Book 2

Just Friends: Mountain Ridge Book 1

Protect Me: Mountain Ridge Book 2

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Baby Mistake

An Accidental Pregnancy Billionaire Romance

How to destroy your career in three easy steps…

Step #1: Sleep with your boss.
Step #2: Get pregnant by your boss.
Step #3: Quit your job and run away from your problems.

Griffin Karlsson, cold and arrogant, he should have been easy to hate.

But I always had a few scorching hot fantasies about Mr. Stick Up His A$$.

After all, who doesn’t want a Thor looking god of a man to drool over?

Now I’m pregnant, jobless and oh, I haven’t told the father…

He already has his perfect life, I don’t need to be reminded I’m carrying his mistake.

My only option? Run.

Chapter One

Janelle

I pull my sweater tighter around myself as I walk down the sidewalk toward my apartment. The Chicago wind still has a chill to it even though it’s early May. It cuts right through my body and makes me shiver and wish I’d picked a heavier coat this morning. I sniffle as I push myself forward, mentally scolding myself for not putting every cent I have into purchasing a car. As the sun sets, the air gets unusually colder for this time of year. When snow flurries begin to fall around me, I roll my eyes and start grumbling to myself, but it’s all the motivation I need to get my butt in gear and pick up the pace.

Less than ten minutes later, I’m rushing into my building and up the stairs to the second story, too impatient to wait for the elevator. I let myself in and drop my keys on the table and my bag on the floor as I stand in the hallway and remove my hat and scarf. After hanging everything up on the wall hook, I pick up my bag and walk further into the apartment.

My roommate, Samantha, is lounging on the couch in the living room. “Hey,” she mumbles, not bothering to pull her eyes away from whatever she’s watching.

“Hey. Have you been outside today? It’s seriously freezing out there. You’d think it would start warming up at some point.” I grab a throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap it around my shoulders, then sit on the vent in the floor—absorbing all the heat in an attempt to thaw my bones from the layer of ice that seems to surround them.

She nods. “I had one final this morning I had to go to.” She pushes her dark hair behind her ear as she sits upright, looking at me. “I saw Ryan Dillion today.” She smiles wide, and the smile makes her eyes sparkle with excitement.

I roll my eyes and snort. Ryan is Sam’s ultimate crush. She’s tried to attract his attention all year, and so far, he’s yet to show any interest. “And?”

“Annnnd,” her eyes stretch wide as her lips keep her smile in place, “he invited me to a party tonight!” She begins bouncing up and down on the couch like an excited three-year-old who’s just learned she’ll get ice cream for dinner.

I laugh. “That’s awesome! So, what’s the plan?”

“Okay,” she says as she settles and levels her eyes on me. “I’m thinking that you and I go to this party looking hot as hell. We’ll kick back, have a few drinks, and mingle. Then I’ll make my move. I’ll tell him thanks for inviting me and make it clear how much fun I’m having. I might ask him to dance or even ask him if he’d like to go someplace quiet to talk.” She points her finger at me, “So, if I disappear tonight, don’t come looking for me until morning.”

I hold up my hands, showing her my palms. “Ha! After last time, I’ve learned my lesson, thank you.” Last time, I did go looking for her and saw her in a very compromising position: doggy style, to be precise.

She giggles. “So, you’ll go with?”

I snort. “Of course I’ll go with. Have you ever known me to pass on a party?”

She again points her long index finger at me. “And that is why we’re best friends.”

We both giggle as I stand, taking my blanket with me. “But before I can party, I have to finish this writing assignment.” I grab my bag off the floor and head for my room. “If I haven’t come out in two hours, check on me. I’ve probably died from boredom,” I joke.

“You got it,” she says from the living room.

I close my bedroom door behind me and flop down in my desk chair as I open my computer. The document is already open and waiting for me to resume my work. I nearly growl as I scroll up to the top and read over what I’ve already written.

I love writing. I’ve always loved writing, but once I decided to get my degree in English, I quickly figured out how much I hate writing something that holds no interest for me. I can write papers on nearly any subject, but finance and business aren’t on that list. Nothing bores me more than having to do hours of research on a subject I have no interest in.

It’s going on seven when I save my document and close my computer to get ready. I step out of my room to find the living room empty. Music is blaring from Sam’s bedroom and I tap quickly on her door before letting myself in.

“I survived, if you were wondering,” I joke, yelling above the music.

She somehow manages to hear me, and she turns it down to a low muffle of background noise. “Good, I was about to come check on you. We have to be at the party in an hour.”

My brows pinch together in confusion. “We’re going that early?” I cross my arms over my chest as I lean against her doorframe.

“I’m not taking the chance of some skank beating me to Ryan. This is it, El. He’s mine tonight.” She flashes me a quick smile before holding up two tops: a skimpy black one and a skimpy pink one. “Which do you like?”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Does it matter? Both of them will give him an eyeful, that’s for sure.”

She tosses both tops onto her bed, then turns for the closet. “Do you think I should wear my little black dress instead?”

“You wear that dress and you’ll be frozen before you get to the party,” I point out.

“True.” She picks it up out of her closet and holds it at arm’s length, studying it as she thinks it over. “Is it worth it?” she asks, more to herself than to me.

“Are frozen ovaries worth it?”

She doesn’t look at me—she just holds up her middle finger before hanging the dress back in her closet.

I laugh as I spin around for the bathroom to get a shower.

I’m leaning against the counter with a drink in my hand as I watch Sam and Ryan dance. I can’t hold back the smile on my face at seeing her finally get the guy she’s secretly been crushing on.

“Hey, beautiful,” someone says, bumping into my shoulder.

I turn my attention to a dark-haired guy I’ve seen around school a few times. “Hi.”

“I’m Chase,” he tells me, flashing a full smile that shows his perfectly straight white teeth.

“I’m—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Janelle, right?”

I smile and nod. “That’s right. But my friends just call me El.”

“I’ve seen you around school. You’re in a lot of the same classes as me. Are you going into journalism?” He leans against the counter, directing all his attention at me. I look him up and down. His dark hair is long and shaggy, hanging to the top of his eyebrows, and he’s dressed in snug jeans and a tight black shirt with some logo stamped on the front. He’s full of swagger and confidence, making it very clear that he’s used to getting his way with the ladies. When his smile widens, I see an adorable dimple in each of his cheeks, further confirming my former thoughts.

I move my head from side to side as I mull over his question. “Writing, yes, but reporting the news, not really. I like more freeform writing. I want to write things that interest me, not report on whatever crime has been committed. I’d love to get hired on at a big publishing house and put my editing skills to good use; however, I’m prepared to do what I need to do to get my foot in the door.”

He nods his head. “So, not aiming for The New York Times.” He smiles, and it makes my muscles tighten.

I shrug, brushing off the butterflies that take over my stomach. “I’m up for whatever. Right now, I just need to get some experience under my belt. I’ve put in for at least a dozen different internships, but I haven’t heard back from any of them yet.”

“Oh yeah? What did you apply for? I’ve been doing the same. Maybe if we put our heads together, we’ll both get some new ideas.”

I hold up my red Solo cup. “I honestly can’t tell you at the moment. All I know is the one I hope I get is the Castille Hotel Group. My sister is supposed to pull some strings for me, but I still haven’t heard back yet.”

His eyes widen. “I applied for that one too! I’m really looking forward to seeing what they plan on doing with their new magazine. I’m not really aiming for a writing career, but I like to keep my options open. And I’ve heard they’re a great company to work for. If I get in, I’m hoping it gets my foot in the door. I’d really like a chance to go into advertising. I really enjoyed the assignment where we had to write ad campaigns.”

I smile. “I did too.”

I end up losing track of Sam as Chase and I get into deeper conversations about school, writing, and potential jobs. It turns out, we have a lot in common. We both applied for a lot of the same internships, and have similar life goals. Not to mention, he’s a total flirt and pretty easy on the eyes. We both flirt and tease one another, but in the end, it doesn’t move past that. He seems like a gentleman—not some player who only comes to parties to hook up. In fact, we have so much in common that I could see our new friendship turning into a relationship with time.

It’s going on two a.m. when I sit back and notice almost everyone at the party has left.

I put down my now-empty cup and push my chair back to stand. “It’s getting late. I really should be going.”

He stands with me. “Want to share an Uber?”

I smile. “Sure!”

He pulls out his phone and arranges for an Uber to pick us up as we head outside. Again, the cold air causes a shiver to run through me.

“Here, use my coat.” He takes it off and drapes it over my shoulders.

“Are you sure? It’s pretty cold out and you’re only wearing a sweatshirt.”

He waves his hand through the air, dismissing my concerns. “I’m naturally warm. And the Uber will be here soon. I think I’ll survive.” He flashes me that cute grin that stirs my stomach.

“Thank you,” I breathe out.

“You’re welcome,” he says, raising his hand to push a fallen strand of hair behind my ear.

Something between us changes. One second ago, we were talking the way friends do, and now there’s an electric current bouncing between us. It’s warm and causes tingles to take over my body. His blue eyes seem to darken as he begins leaning closer. He wets his lips as his hand lands under my chin.

I close my eyes and lean forward. We meet in the middle, his soft lips finding mine. His hot tongue demands entrance, and I can’t deny him. He’s cute, funny, and sweet. And this kiss would be the perfect ending to our night.

As his tongue dances with mine, his hot body presses against my front, warming me, but also turning every bone in my body to jello. I melt into him, living in this kiss and forgetting everything else. His lips are soft, yet strong, and his tongue tastes like a mixture of beer and the fruity shots we’d taken earlier in the night.

When he pulls away, rather unexpectedly, he shoots me a grin. “I’d really like to see you again, El.”

I nod, blush staining my cheeks. “I’d like that too.”

The Uber pulls up, and he opens the door for me without pulling his eyes from mine. He motions with his hand for me to slide in first. Without saying another word, I do, and he takes his seat after me.

On the ride back to my apartment, we exchange numbers. When the car comes to a stop in front of my building, he opens the door and steps out to allow me to exit.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” I say, standing on the sidewalk.

He nods. “Thank you for tonight. I enjoyed the time we spent together.” His hand moves to cup my cheek.

I smile as my face burns with embarrassment. “I did too,” I say, shyly.

Slowly, he leans in, giving me one last kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough.

He pulls away. “Good night, El,” he whispers as he slides back into the seat.

I smile and hold up my hand to wave goodbye as the car pulls back out into traffic. Unable to find my feet, I stand there, watching him drive away, happy and surprised by tonight’s turn of events. It makes me wonder if I should have invited him inside, but he didn’t strike me as that kind of guy. He seemed perfectly happy just spending time with me, and stealing the few kisses he did.

The wind picks up, bringing me back to the present, and I turn and walk into the building when the car is no longer in view. I went to this party for Sam, but I’m sure glad I did. While I’ve never been the serious relationship type of girl, meeting Chase was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t go with intentions of finding a boyfriend, but maybe that’s exactly what I found. I guess I should wait to see if he actually calls before getting my hopes up. But the nervous feeling in my stomach tells me that I’m hoping he calls, that I’m praying for a night alone with him, and that I may have just found the guy I’ll end up with.

I let myself into the apartment, and to my surprise, find Sam in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. She’s already dressed in her oversized nightshirt, ready for bed.

I pause in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting to find you home. Things not go well with Ryan?”

“No, he has a girlfriend.”

I press my lips together. “That’s weird; I’ve never seen him with anyone.”

“That’s because she doesn’t go to school here. They’re in a ‘very serious committed long-distance relationship,’ as he puts it.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he introduced me to one of his friends, Seth.” She smiles. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”

I laugh. “That’s more like it. I knew you’d bounce back quickly.”

“I’m nothing if not flexible,” she jokes. “Hey, so who was the guy you were talking to?”

I walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter. “His name is Chase. I’ve seen him around school, but never talked to him. We ran into each other tonight and really hit it off.”

“Really? Like, you guys are going to see each other again?”

I nod. “I think so. We exchanged numbers anyway.”

“Look at us. This time next year, we may both be on our way to marriage.”

I laugh. “Hey now, I have no interest in getting married anytime soon. You keep those dreams and aspirations all to yourself before you jinx me or something.”

She shows me the palms of her hands. “Fine. Good night, El.”

“Night, Sam.” I watch her walk down the hallway and back into her room, where she closes the door between us.

I grab a bottle of water for myself, turn off the light, and head to my room with plans of sleeping until noon.

Chapter Two

Griffin

Griffin

“Have you had a chance to look at the list of interns I sent over?” Vince asks over the phone.

I kick up my feet on my desk. “Yeah, I’ve skimmed them,” I reply, looking at the time on my Rolex.

“Have you made a decision?”

“Not yet. You do realize it’s Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, I do, and I’m betting you’re sitting at your desk in the office.” I laugh a little; he’s not wrong. “You have to get a life, man.”

Ignoring his comment, I give him feedback on the list of interns in front of me.

“I have some I threw away immediately. Others I’ve put in the maybe pile. What’s this about? You’ve never cared about interns before.”

He takes a deep breath. “Alison’s little sister applied for that internship,” he finally admits as he lets out a long breath.

“Ahhh, I get it. So if she doesn’t get in, you’re no longer getting laid,” I joke with a deep laugh escaping my lips.

“Just make sure Janelle Ryder is in the yes pile when it’s all said and done, would ya?”

“All right. Let me look.” I sit up in my chair and pick up the file that has all the intern applications. Flipping through the papers, I find her application. “Actually, I had her in the maybe pile.” I read over her application. “She seems qualified—just as qualified as the rest of these children, if not more.”

“She is, Thor,” he jokes, using my nickname to give me a hard time. Because of my blond hair, blue eyes, Nordic accent, and imposing stature, I’ve come to accept the nickname “Thor” from my closest friends—but only a select few are allowed to use it.

“Fine, loverboy, she’s in. Are you happy?”

He laughs. “Thanks, man. You have no idea how happy that’ll make Alison. She’s worried about her little sister. Apparently, she’s the wild type. You may have to whip her into shape.”

I scoff. “Great. Just what I don’t have time for: a college girl with a wild streak.”

“Nah, Alison’s talked to her about it. She seems ready to take this on. I’m sure she’ll do fine, so don’t worry too much about it. At least we don’t have to pay them.”

“Should I call and give her the good news, or does Alison want to do that?” I ask, closing the file and turning to face my computer to put her name into the system.

“You can call her. I know the first person she’ll call is Alison, and I’m sure she’d like that better than hearing it from me. Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

I laugh. “Ha! You owe me ten, and you’re going to have to hear me bitch when this girl doesn’t show up for work because she’s too hung over.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy your vacation.”

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy my vacation all right. I don’t plan on leaving our room for the rest of it.”

I make a gagging sound. “Too much info, man.” Without another word, I hang up the phone and can nearly hear him laughing from here.

I quickly glance at the time in the top right-hand corner of my computer screen and see it going on ten a.m. Picking up the phone, I call the number in the file.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Janelle Ryder?” I ask.

“Yes, who is this?” It’s obvious she was asleep at ten a.m. on a Saturday—typical college student.

“This is Griffin Karlsson with Castille Hotels. How are you doing this morning?”

“Oh, um, I’m great, sir. How are you?” Her voice now sounds wide awake.

I want to roll my eyes but refrain. “I’m doing very well, thank you. Listen, Janelle, I’m calling because you turned in an application for an internship here, and you’ve been selected for our ten-week program.”

“Oh my God. Thank you so much! That’s amazing news. I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to hear if I got in or not.”

“Congratulations! The internship starts next Monday at eight a.m. My assistant will send you an email with all of the information you’ll need, as well as the address.”

“Of course. I’ll be there, Mr. Karlsson. Thank you so much for the call.”

“Have a good day, Ms. Ryder,” I say before hanging up the phone. It then rings as soon as I put it down.

“Hello?” I answer, thinking it may be Vince calling back because he realized he needed to torment me about something else.

“Hi, Griffin,” Liz says on the other end.

I let out a long breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “How are you, Liz?” I don’t really care; I just ask to be polite.

“I’m great. I was hoping we could meet up for lunch. Cameron said you didn’t have any meetings today and I was hoping we could get together.”

Fucking Cameron. He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, even though I do consider him to be my best friend. Cameron and I are complete opposites though. He’s in his mid-thirties, but he still acts like he’s twenty-one and living off his dad’s money. He blows through women, money, and booze. I, however, have very little interest in any of that unless it’s a well-aged bourbon.

“I wish I could, Liz, but I already have plans,” I lie, completely uninterested in spending any more time than I have to with that vile woman.

Liz is someone Cameron set me up with. He’s always on my ass about dating, meeting new people, and going out. After months of listening to him go on and on about her, I gave in and accepted the date. But now I can’t get her to leave me alone. She’s nice enough to look at. She has a hard body with a big chest. She has money, so she’s always dressed well, with her hair and makeup always perfectly done, and she attends the same functions and knows the same people I do. But we have nothing in common. She was born into money. She’s never had to work a day in her life, and she does nothing but shop, party, and take lavish vacations. I, on the other hand, work every day of my life, never take time off, and only go to parties when it’s necessary for work. Nothing about us says “compatible.” I just have to get that through her head.

“Darn it,” she says sadly. “Well, what about sometime next week?” I can hear the hope in her voice, and it causes my chest to hurt. I hate being unnecessarily mean, but fuck, how many times do I have to dodge her before she gets the hint?

“I wish I could, Liz, but we’re bringing in our summer interns and I just won’t have the time. It’s like having a bunch of babies running around the office. I’m sorry, but I have an important call to take. Take care, Liz.” I hang up before she can even reply.

I let out a long breath, wipe the sweat from my brow, and lean back in my desk chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. My eyes immediately flash over to the drink cart in the corner, and my mouth waters for that smooth taste of expensive bourbon, but I know it’s far too early to indulge myself.

I curse Cameron for introducing me to that woman. I know he’s my best friend and just trying to look out for me. He wants to see me out enjoying myself and settling down with a beautiful woman who makes me happy, but that’s not the future I see for myself. All the women I’ve met have only made me realize that they’re only interested in my money. They’re either looking to cash in and become someone on the social scale, or they have money themselves and are looking to further expand their reach in the upper-class world. I’m not in the habit of being used. I’d rather spend my life alone, focusing on my work. When a need arises, there are plenty of ways to get the release I crave. I go to a random club and pretend to be someone I’m not. If the women I’m hooking up with don’t know I’m loaded, then they don’t expect anything more than a quick fuck in the bathroom, the back seat of a car, or even the back alley. There’s no reason for me to settle down with anyone, and I’ve yet to meet a woman who’s been able to change my mind.

My life is mine, and I prefer to keep it that way.

My phone rings again, and when I answer it, Cameron’s on the other end. “What the fuck, man? Why are you blowing Liz off? She’s perfect for you.”

I scoff. “What did she do? Come running to you the minute I declined her offer?” Annoyance pumps through my body and makes me grind my teeth, which only makes a sharp pain surge through my jaw.

“She just mentioned that she was done trying with you—that you didn’t seem very interested. What’s up? She’s hot, rich, fun, and an easy lay: the perfect woman to get you out of your slump.”

“I’m not in a slump,” I argue for what must be the thousandth time.

“You haven’t been with anyone since Candice,” he points out.

“I have so. Just because I don’t brag to you about my conquests doesn’t mean they don’t happen.”

He laughs. “See how pathetic you’re sounding? You’re making stuff up just so I’ll back off,” he teases.

“Damn it, Cameron. I’m not looking for a relationship, fling, or random hookup right now.”

“There has to be more in your life than just work. Come out with me tonight.”

“I’m too busy. I still have to pick eleven more interns for the internship that starts Monday.”

“So just grab eleven names out of a hat and you’re done. You know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter which interns you pick. You’ll just bitch about them all anyway. I’m picking you up at eight. Be ready.” He hangs up the phone before I can argue any further.

I drop the phone onto my desk and pick up the file of applicants once again, knowing that he’s right. I hate doing this. I wasn’t lying when I said it was like having babies tear apart the office. They don’t know the first thing about advertising or being in an office setting. They’re used to sitting in a classroom. Every year, they come to me with the same tired advertising techniques they’ve picked up in class. Out of twelve applicants, there’s usually only one worth anything—two if I’m really lucky. But it’s my job to weed them out, and I do. I point out all their flaws and send them running back to their mommies with their tails between their legs. It’s my job to find out if they have what it takes—if they belong in this world.

It takes me an hour before I settle and pick eleven more names. I spend the following hours making the calls and putting them all into our human resources database so they can pick up their name tags and security passes first thing Monday. By the time the day ends, I’m tired, annoyed, and ready for a drink. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t turn down Cameron.

We’re walking into an exclusive club minutes after he picks me up. We sit at a table in the corner, and I place my order: a medium-rare steak and bourbon on the rocks. Cameron orders the same thing, and after the waitress leaves, I sit back, looking over the place. I then realize that Cameron is looking my way, studying me.

“I can’t figure you out, man. What happened?” he asks, stealing my attention away from people watching.

“What do you mean?” I ask, picking up my glass the moment it’s set on the table.

“We’ve known each other for years now; we went to college together. We always talked about being on top of the world—how’d we have everything we want in life—and now, all you care about is work. What gives?”

I roll my eyes and sip my drink. “I’m just not interested in fucking random women.”

“It feels like you’re not interested in any woman. Not since Candice.”

“I’m not!” I feel my eyes go wide as my brows skyrocket. “Any woman I find is only looking for money or trying to make herself look more rich than she already is. I’m not losing half of everything I’ve worked for, and I’m sure as hell not going to be someone’s arm candy in front of their rich, better-than-thou friends.” I shake my head. “I’m just not into relationships anymore, okay?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re going to end up all alone, my friend.”

“Yeah, but I’ll have more money than God himself,” I joke, “while you’ll be stuck paying alimony and child support.”

He holds up his glass. “To high expectations.” He offers up his shit-eating grin.

I laugh and clank my glass off of his. “Here, here.”

We both drink and sit back to relax.

“Now, let’s pick the woman I’ll hopefully be going home with tonight,” Cameron says with a smirk.

“Or, to make things more interesting, let’s take bets on which STD you’ll be catching tonight.”

He grins. “Like I said…to high expectations!”

I laugh and shake my head. At least he’s not picking one for me.

WANT TO FIND OUT HOW THE STORY ENDS? YOU CAN HERE!

About the Author

Alexis Winter is a contemporary romance author who loves to share her steamy stories with the world. She specializes in billionaires, alpha males and the women they love.

If you love to curl up with a good romance book you will certainly enjoy her work. Whether it's a story about an innocent young woman learning about the world or a sassy and fierce heroin who knows what she wants you,'re sure to enjoy the happily ever afters she provides.

When Alexis isn't writing away furiously, you can find her exploring the Rocky Mountains, traveling, enjoying a glass of wine or petting a cat.

You can find her books on Amazon or at https://www.alexiswinterauthor.com/

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