Laura:Turn your location on. I'm leaving in ten minutes.
April:trust me
April:gotta go
She pushed the door open expecting an empty hallway and nearly walked into a wall of expensive charcoal wool.
Killian Blackwood hand raised, standing outside her closet as if he was waiting for a conference room to empty.
She hadn’t had a plan thirty seconds ago.
She did now.
TWO
Fake Fiancée
April
“Killian?" she said, voice rough. "What are you—are you looking for floor wax?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he caught it and let it fall.
"I saw," he said.
"You saw."
"I heard what he called it."
A sharp, humorless laugh escaped her. "A prank."
"I'm sorry."
He'd seen. He knew. And instead of pretending he hadn't, he'd planted himself outside a supply closet.
April's fingers tightened on the edge of the door. "I just needed five minutes."
"I know."
Then Killian stepped forward and pulled her in.
Her cheek hit wool and warmth. His hand settled between her shoulder blades. His other arm wrapped around her waist.
April went still.
Then her shoulders dropped and she sagged into him like someone had cut her strings.
He smelled expensive. Cologne and something underneath—soap or just him or maybe the fact that he wasn't Chad.
His hand shifted between her shoulder blades. Flattened. Pressed.
Her breathing slowed.
"If he thought you and I were together," she said into his chest so it came out muffled, "he would lose his mind."
Killian's breathing changed. The arm around her waist tightened, pulled her closer.
"You're asking me to fake-date you."
