“Seriously? Me? Eye candy? That’s hilarious.”
He clearly hadn’t looked in the mirror lately. It wasn’t that funny. “No, it’s not.” I grabbed my phone, pulling up one of my social media accounts. I scrolled, looking for the post where we’d announced our engagement. “Just read some of those comments. My followers are obsessed with you.”
He smirked, shaking his head as he read the comments. “Sexy… hot… ohhhh, this one is going to fantasize about me while—”
“I read it!” I snapped, snatching the phone away from him. “And I should have blocked her. It’s disgusting.”
He moved in closer, backing me up against the fridge. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? You jealous?”
I huffed, feigning indifference. “Me, jealous? Get over yourself, Joel. This isn’t a real relationship, remember?”
He extended his arm above my head, pinning me with his heavy body. “You sure about that? ‘Cause last night felt pretty real to me.”
We’d crossed a line last night. It felt too real, too intimate. It felt like… we made love. Except we couldn’t have. I definitely wasn’t in love with him. And there was no way he could love me. I’d seen pics on his social media account of the women he dated. I so wasn’t his type.
“Last night was…” My eyes drifted to his lips. “Nice. But—”
“Nice?”
He claimed my mouth, his tongue parting the seam of my lips while his free hand cradled my face. He was rocking into me, showing me without words how aroused he was and if he’d asked I would have stripped naked in the middle of the kitchen in broad daylight. What the hell was happening to me?
My breath was coming in short gasps by the time he let me come up for air. “What the hell was that?” I asked, pressing my fingertips against my tender lips.
“That was anything but nice.” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, scraping my delicate skin with his delicious scruff. “Nice is for the losers you used to date… the ones who left you wanting more.”
I made the mistake of confessing he was the only man I’d ever climaxed with… during. And he’d made it his mission ever since for daily three-peats. We were acting like a real couple who couldn’t get enough of each other.
“I never want to hear you use that word to describe sex with me.”
Sex.That word ricocheted around in my head, mocking me. It was the only word to describe what we were doing. It was just sex. So why did that leave me feeling so empty?
Pushing him out of the way, I said, “I’m going to grab a shower and start dinner. The kitchen will be a mess for a few more days, so we’ll have to grill. I hope that’s okay.”
His hand closed around my wrist before I could escape. “Talk to me. What did I say to set you off just now?”
I frowned, pretending I didn’t understand the question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”
His eyes locked with mine and I felt like he was trying to tell me something meaningful. “No, you’re not.”
I felt tears sting my eyes. I had to get the hell out of here. There was no way I’d let him see me cry. “You’re imagining things.”
Shaking his head, he released me, “You don’t have to be afraid with me, girl. When are you going to get that?”
He was so wrong. I had every reason to be terrified because I was feeling things I had no business feeling for a man who’d signed on to be my fake husband, not my real one.
* * *
I was sitting at a long rectangular table in a posh boardroom, trying to seem poised and sophisticated while trembling inside. I’d bought a new black power suit, treated myself to a mani-pedi and facial, even got my hair trimmed and highlighted. But it didn’t help. I still felt like the new girl at school, trying to impress the cool kids.
“The photos and videos you sent of your fiancé’s property are spectacular, Gia,” Elaine said, setting her dark-framed reading glasses on the polished wood table. “Those sunsets, that pond, the barn, the old farmhouse…” She sighed. “It’s perfect. Exactly the kind of thing people are eating up these days.”
I’d fallen in love with the Wheeler place long before farmhouse became trendy, but I understood her meaning. The place was a set designer’s dream come true. “I’m glad you like it.”
Kaitlyn, the assistant set decorator, opened a portfolio and passed it across the table. “I’m sitting in for my boss today, but she wanted you to see these. Obviously, you have a great eye for staging, given your social media pics, and we wanted to make sure our vision for the show aligns with your existing brand.”
I appreciated the consideration, since I’d spent years building my brand. The show would consist of twelve episodes, over three months of filming, and beyond that, I had no idea if they would want to pick it up for a second season… or whether Joel might want to kick us all out of his house after twelve weeks.
“Beautiful,” I said, trying not to look too awestruck as I thumbed through the inspiration images. It was every farmhouse fantasy I’d ever had come to life. “I think your ideas align perfectly with my brand.” I wasn’t even sure if I would have had the courage to challenge them if they were way off base. They’d produced a number of award-winning shows and I knew nothing about this business, so who was I to believe I knew best?
