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Chapter 8
TRINA
I tiptoe barefoot across the cold pavement toward the pool, clutching a beach towel to my chest. Liam’s already in the hot tub, the camera crew in position. If I could photoshop the film crew out of the picture, the resort is quite picturesque.
Melanie was right. The place is romantic at night. Green lights glow from the bottom of the pool. Fairy lights entangle the branches of several trees in the surrounding gardens. Bubbles foam over the surface of the hot tub and Liam’s arms hang around the perimeter. As I get closer, I see his bare chest. No surprise, but good gravy, he looks amazing. How the heck am I going to fix my eyes on his face?
I cling to my security blanket, the towel that covers me from my armpits to my knees. Liam will not see me in a bathing suit. Half of America can see, but not Liam. The idea of him liking what he sees makes me want to run screaming. Attraction is not healthy for a fake marriage.
Liam waves to me and foam lands on his nose. He swipes it away, showing no sign of self-consciousness—unlike me. I give a small wave back and nearly drop my towel. I fumble to keep it high, this time clutching it closed at my neck.
Liam’s smirk becomes a wide grin as I approach.
I stand at the edge of the hot tub, peering down at him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He shifts across the bench seat. “Coming in or are you just playing lifeguard in case I drown?"
I lift my chin, and my ponytail flicks my cheek. “Can you face the other way while I get in?”
“Seriously? You’re my wife, remember. Mrs. Ashley.”
I roll my eyes. “Turn that way for a second.”
Liam shrugs. “Sure.” He turns and his back muscles flex.
The view does nothing for me. Zero. Nada. No attraction whatsoever.
I squat beside the steps and slip one foot in. Mmm. So warm. Still holding my towel, I decide America won’t see me in my bathing suit either. I lower myself in, ready to fling the towel at the last second.
My strategy doesn’t work.
My foot slides across the bench seat causing me to do the splits.
I let out a squeal.
My foot collides with Liam’s thigh. I slip and go sideways. I brace for hard contact, but Liam’s arm goes around my middle and pulls me into his lap. “Hey. Watch your step.”
My heart is pounding in my ears. I catch my breath before I flick wet hair from my eyes. “Thanks for the warning.” I wriggle the towel from under me and raise the drenched rag between us. “Looks like you’re lending me yours.”
His arms stay around my waist. “Ah. Not sure about that.”
“What’s yours is mine.” I wave my wet towel. “And what’s mine is yours.”
“Oh, I see how this works.” He smiles and tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
Immobile at his gentle touch, I’m drawn into the depths of his mesmerizing eyes, where swirls of green and brown encircle dilated pupils. But a glimmer of an iridescent circle of light dances within his irises. Oh, yeah, the film crew stands behind us, and they’ve recorded my embarrassing stumble into the hot tub.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
I bury my head into his neck and groan. “Tell them to go away.”
Liam engulfs me in a hug, holding me close. “They’ll leave in a minute. You can do this, Trina.”
I pull back, our faces inches from each other. “I’m not used to this like you are. It’s overwhelming. I want my privacy back.”
“I get it.” He cups my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Let’s give them what they want, then we can relax for the rest of the evening once they’re gone.”
