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One
“All I need you to do is play the part of my boyfriend for the next week.”
“Let me get this straight. You had me fly to Bora Bora so we can make your ex believe you’ve moved on. We’ll be pretending to shack up in this romantic hut. And in the midst of all of that, you’ll be doing the flowers for your sister’s wedding?”
Okay, when Mac O’Shea phrased the question like that, the situation did sound rather ridiculous. But she had her reasons, damn it. Good reasons. Reasons that justified making her very best friend pose as her boyfriend.
Standing in the cozy hut that was her home for the next week, Jenna LeBlanc adjusted the strap on her favorite coral sundress and stared at Mac. “Listen, you love to travel and I’m giving you a free trip. Stop complaining.”
Shoving his suitcase out of the way with the toe of his shoe, Mac stalked toward her. Emerald eyes held her in her place, as if daring her to move until he got to the bottom of this. Mercy, that man was potent. Her best friend was sexier than any other man she’d ever encountered and now she needed him to pretend to be madly in love with her because she trusted nobody else. Sure. This should be no problem.
“I can afford my own damn trip.” He propped his hands on his hips as he stopped right before her. “I want to know why you didn’t tell me the full reason you needed me down here when you called.”
Humiliation? Fear? Too many emotions swirled around, leaving her more desperate than she’d like to be. The need to keep her sister’s wedding perfect and her mother’s past demons from creeping up had Jenna putting everything on the line. Heart, sanity...everything.
“Listen, Martin is still attending because he’s the best man,” she explained. “We broke up two weeks ago and he wants me back. He won’t take no for an answer. There’s no way to avoid him here, so that’s where you come in.”
Mac’s dark brows drew in as the muscle ticked in his square jaw. “You told me you broke things off with him, but you never said why.”
“Well, you were gallivanting around the world—”
“In Barcelona.”
“And you didn’t return my call when I tried to reach you.”
“Because I was in a meeting when you called and your message said to come here.” Mac sighed. “Now, tell me what the hell is going on and why we’re dating, because if we are, my family needs to know. My sister will be thrilled.”
Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Now is not the time to be snarky.”
Mac crossed his arms over his massive, broad, extremely chiseled chest. She couldn’t help but stare as the material strained across his shoulders. They may be only friends, but that never stopped her from eyeing the goods. Mac made thirty-two look damn sexy.
“Martin was screwing his assistant.”
It hurt to say those words. Not because she’d been madly in love with him; they’d only been dating a few months. But to know he didn’t feel she was worthy enough for him to break up with first? Did men not consider women’s feelings anymore?
“He was a jerk anyway,” Mac commented. “Want me to rough him up?”
She laughed, though she knew he wasn’t kidding entirely. Rumors of the O’Sheas’ infamous ways of conducting “business” were strong enough that his words rang true. Mac’s father, Patrick, had passed away less than a year ago and the man wasn’t known for his gentle hand or kind mannerisms. Mac’s brother Braden had taken over as head of the family, and he and his fiancée, Zara, were much more personable, but Braden was still a formidable presence. He wasn’t a man to mess with, either, but had more tact, self-control—and quite possibly more power—than Patrick did.
“Seeing Martin in pain would be lovely, but no thanks.” Jenna patted his cheek and went on. “But since he has to be here, I refuse to have him believe I am available. As far as he’s concerned, I’ve moved on and I’m head over heels for you. He’s nothing but a bad memory.”
“And this is where my undying love comes in.”
Jenna swallowed hard. “If you want to put it that way, then, yes. But I really just need a favor without the sarcastic comments.”
Jenna didn’t want to think of Mac and love in the same sentence. That would be a cruel trick to play on herself. Yes, they’d been best friends since he tried to pick her up years ago at the party of a mutual friend. She’d blown him off, thinking there was no way a guy like that would ever find her attractive. Added to that, she’d been in Boston long enough to know the O’Shea name and hadn’t wanted to associate herself with people who were synonymous with “mafia” and “mob.”
