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“Right. But if I had known I’d be a pawn in this game to fool your family—”
“You knew you’d have to fool them before you came here today.”
She lifted her chin. “That’s different. I didn’t know your family was so fractured. I mean, do you think this is the right thing to do? To betray them again because of your career?”
He barked a low, sarcastic laughter. “I’m not betraying them. I’m giving them some peace of mind, so they’ll know I won’t sleep with Michelle again. A message.”
Did he mean it though? Would he still sleep with Michelle? The thought sent her blood on a low simmer. She shouldn’t worry about him and Michelle. “You’re selling them a new you.”
He raked his fingers into his hair, letting out a sigh of frustration. “I wouldn’t go that far. They’re not idiots.”
She slid off the bed and stood. “Are you in love with her?”
“No,” he answered, looking square into her eye. “Never been.”
An emotion she couldn’t quite understand filled her chest. She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “Then why?”
“Because I tend to screw things up from time to time.”
“Why?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Because that’s who I am.” His voice was light, but she detected the undertone of regret in his tone.
“No. This is the easy answer. You need to dig deeper.”
He started to undo the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not into armchair therapy.”
“Then go to real therapy and figure out why you’re like this.”
He removed the shirt and placed it over a chair by the desk. Then, he reached into his suitcase, fumbling for some clothes. She kept her eyes trained on the wall, trying with all she had left not to gawk at the impossibly broad shoulders and the muscles rippling his back. Was he a former rower?
He grabbed a couple pieces of clothes and turned to her. “Enough, Lara. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it would be so obvious so soon. Doesn’t mean you get to probe me with all these questions. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
She knew if she let her gaze wander down his chest, he’d have the upper hand. She refused to let him think she’d be into him. Troy still hadn’t talked to the O’Donnells—he was the enemy, and she should keep that in mind. “I don’t give a crap. Just because we’re not a real couple doesn’t mean you get to omit the kind of information I need to fulfill my role as a fake wife.”
“Fine. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Good. And tonight, you’re sleeping there,” she said, pointing at the loveseat. “I don’t want your horny ass next to me.”
“I won’t touch you.”
That’s not the problem, she told herself. She glanced at the loveseat again. She should follow through with her threat, but a part of her felt bad for the man. He wouldn’t fit and would have a terrible night. Next day he’d be even moodier. “Okay. I’ll make a pillow barrier between us.”
“Do you really think I’ll make a pass at you at night?”
“No. Who’s to say I won’t be making a pass at you if I get bored?” Her voice came out strained and a notch sexier than she would have liked. She meant to make fun of the situation, and not increase the tension.
He gave her a smile so dirty it for sure was illegal in at least five countries. Maybe more. “Now that I’d like to see.”
A swarm of butterflies did a Black Friday stampede in her stomach. The sensation warmed its way down her body and settled between her thighs. More than ever, she wished she was alone in the room to touch herself and find some release. Instead, she had the very massive presence of a very manly man. “Keep dreaming.”
“Something to look forward to.”
She grabbed her pajamas from her suitcase and dashed into the bathroom. She looked forward to a very, very cold shower.
5
“More juice?” Laurie, the fifty-something housekeeper asked, lifting a crystal jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.
