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Once more, I reach out, and press my thumb to it before I can stop myself. "You are so fucking gorgeous."
She glances at me, stricken, then pulls away.
What the— What did I say?"Isla, I—"
"If we’re going to do this, we need to have ground rules." She puts distance between us.
"Ground rules?" I slide my hands into my pockets.
She nods. "No more touching; no more kissing."
"We need to be intimate for the media to believe us."
"That’s when we’re out and about, but once we’re on our own, you keep your distance. No more"—she waves her hands in the air—"whatever that was."
"And what was that?" I widen my stance.
"I don’t know, and I don’t care. But it’s not happening again." She squares her shoulders. "Promise me, you won’t try to seduce me."
I laugh. "Trust me, when I seduce you, you won’t stand a chance." I wipe the smile off of my face. "It’s not like I want to touch you or kiss you, either. But sometimes—" I drag my fingers through my hair. "I can’t help myself."
"Too bad." She firms her lips. "You need to try harder for me to uphold my side of the bargain."
"Is that an ultimatum?" I ask in a soft voice.
Some of the color fades from her cheeks. "It’s a deal breaker," she murmurs.
I draw myself up to my full height. "Don’t forget, you need this job to salvage your reputation. Already, the tabloids are buzzing with what you and I were doing together. They’ve already identified who you are, and rumors about why my wedding planner was canoodling with me instead of my bride are circulating. As you know, with these kinds of things, you’ll come out of it looking like a wedding wrecker—"
"While you, as the man, will get away with it.”
"—if we don’t handle this properly.” I hold my hands out in front of me. “Hey, I don’t make the rules." I raise a shoulder. So, I’m an asshole. Deal with it. Besides, no one tells me what to do. Not even my future fake wife.
Her jaw hardens. Color flushes her cheeks. Her eyes gleam, and once more, I’m entranced by how vital she is. "You’re an asshole."
"You may call me alphahole."
She flips me the bird, and I bark out a laugh. "Wasn’t expecting that from you."
"Deal with it, jerkass." She all but stamps her foot. "Just… Stay away from me when we don’t have to perform in front of an audience, okay?"
"Are you worried you like my touch entirely too much? You stressed that you’re falling for me? Is that what’s got your panties in a twist?"
"If you must know, my panties are soaked, actually. And yes, that’s exactly why you need to stay away from me." She slaps her hand to her forehead. "Shit, what was I thinking blurting that out? Erase; rewind. Let’s go back to before I said it."
"Let’s not." I close the distance to her, and that’s when the camera beeps. I glance toward the screen to find it recording. "Perfect timing." I wrap my arm about her shoulders and draw her close. She stands stiffly in the circle of my arms and I pull her even closer until her side is plastered to mine. Until we are joined from torso to hip to thigh. I slide her in front and notch her head under my chin.
"Isla and I have an announcement to make." I interlace the fingers of my left hand with hers, then hold it up so her ring is visible to the camera. "We’re getting married."
* * *
"That went well." I raise a glass of whiskey to my lips.
"You think?" She walks back and forth in front of the kitchen island. "Did you have to just put it out there—that we’re getting married?"
I narrow my gaze. "Wasn’t the intention to inform the press and everyone else by putting it out on social media?”
“Yes, but—” She wrings her fingers together. “Couldn’t you have led up to it in a softer manner?”
