My Super-Hot Fake Wedding Date

by Leigh James

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m memorizing your face so I don’t ever forget it.”

  “You don’t have to.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing mine. “You’re going to see it every day for the rest of your life.”

  Madison rolled back onto her side of the bed, breathing hard. “Can we do that again?”

  I laughed, then winced because my muscles were so sore. “Of course we can. But maybe not right this second.’

  She rolled toward me, grinning. “Does the Italian Stallion need a rest?”

  “No.” I looked down at myself. “Maybe.”

  She gently kissed my arm. “It’s okay to need a little break. We haven’t left the house in forty-eight hours.”

  I chuckled. “We haven’t left the bed in forty-eight hours!”

  Maddy sighed happily and snuggled against me. “I know, right? I can’t believe I was nervous. I am so good at this.” She laughed.

  “I knew you would be. You’re a natural.”

  “There’s one thing we haven’t covered yet…”

  I sat up a little, curious and maybe a little wary. “What’s that?” The Italian Stallion did need a rest, albeit a brief one.

  Maddy blinked at me. “Cuddling. I’m still not sure if I like it.”

  I leaned back against the pillows and pulled her against me. “You like it. You practically slept on top of me last night.”

  “That was’t cuddling. That was foreplay.” She laughed.

  “Well then, let’s try it.” I positioned myself around her. “This is called ‘spooning.’ See if you can tolerate it.”

  She went quiet for a minute, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. “You okay?”

  “I think so.” She laughed again, her shoulder shaking. “B what’s that thing pressing up against me?”

  I sighed and turned her back toward me. “I think you’re pretty familiar with it by now.”

  “I thought you were too tired?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “I can do anything, babe. Even you-know-what again. They don’t call me the Italian Stallion for nothing!”

  Epilogue

  MADISON

  “You have to admit that you got engaged quicker than they do on The Bachelor.” Sienna eyed me as I kneaded the dough for the pie I was making. “Is there something you’re not telling me? And hold on—since when did you make pie?” She scowled at me as I rolled the dough out. “What the heck are you even doing?”

  “Geez Sienna, that’s a lot of questions all at once.” I kept rolling the dough, even though I was pretty sure I was screwing it up.

  “Start with the pie.” She eyed the mess I was making. “You’re scaring me.”

  I scowled back at her. “What are you doing in the kitchen, anyway? I don’t think you’ve ever been in here before.”

  “I’m only in here because you are. I like to give the staff their space. And not get flour all over their workstations.” White powder covered the island, my apron, and most of the floor near me. “They get pissy about that.”

  “They do?”

  Sienna laughed. “How would I know? I’ve never even made toast!”

  I sighed. “Well I’m making Ricotta Pie. It’s an old Palmieri recipe—Bob’s mom used to make it.” I shrugged as I kept working on the dough. “I wanted to do something nice for him. It’s our first holiday together.”

  Sienna arched an eyebrow. “If you want to do something nice for him, don’t kill him with food poisoning.”

  “Ha ha.” I frowned as I tried to straighten out the dough. “What else did you want to know?”

  “Why you got engaged so fast,” Sienna reminded me. “My wedding announcement ran one month, your engagement announcement ran the next. I was wondering if something else was going on to make you so suddenly domesticated.” She eyed my belly.

  I eyed hers, which was flat and partially exposed beneath her crop-top sweater. “It’s nothing like that—not yet.” I smiled at my sister, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “We just know we want to get married, and we both want to have kids sooner rather than later so…why wait?”

  “My uptight, corporate sister is so domesticated now!” Sienna clapped her hands together. “This is perfect. You can hire the best nanny, then when I’m ready to have kids, I’ll triple her salary and steal her from you.”

  I frowned. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Has Mom started interrogating you about the ceremony yet?” Sienna looked half-sorry for me, half-gleeful.

  “Of course she has.” I finally got the dough in a shape somewhat resembling a circle. “She’s driving me insane.”

  Sienna pulled up a barstool. “Tell me everything. But first, promise that your wedding won’t be as nice as mine.”

  I sighed. “It won’t be—but you’ll have to get mom to swear on it. I wanted to have a private ceremony, but she went ballistic. You’d have thought I’d said I wanted to wear a bargain-basement wedding dress and have Red Lobster cater the reception.”

  “What’s Red Lobster?” Sienna asked.

  “Never mind. The point is, she’s freaking out. I need to divert her attention. Hey, is there any chance that you can get pregnant soon? Like, this weekend?”

  My sister snorted. “It’s not in the plan. We’re taking next year to travel and then we’re talking kids. Remember, I’m younger than you.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Back to the wedding—what’re you thinking?”

  “What about a destination wedding?” I asked. “I always thought that would be sort of fun, and it will at least be smaller than if we had the ceremony in the States.”

  “Yes.” Sienna clapped her hands together. “There won’t be any press coverage and I can work on my tan.”

  “I don’t know. What would be better? Italy? The Caribbean?”

  “Definitely the Caribbean.” She nodded knowingly. “Everyone loves going to an island, and Mom and Dad can foot the bill. It’ll be a free vacation—rich people love free vacations!”

  “I’ll have to talk to Bob about it.” I put the dough into the pie plate and carefully pinched the edges, following the instructions on Mrs. Palmieri’s written notecard. I took the containers of ricotta out of the refrigerator and poured them into a large mixing bowl, then cracked an egg and added it in.

  Sienna looked non-plussed. “There’s no way in hell I’m eating that.”

  “Good thing I’m not making it for you.” I scowled at her.

  “Girls, girls. What is all the fuss about?” My mother sailed into the kitchen, a gauzy rose caftan fanning out behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me at the counter with an apron on, adding more eggs into the ricotta mixture.

  She put her hand over her heart. “Dear God, what’s gotten into you?”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “I’m making Ricotta Pie, Mom. It’s a Palmieri tradition.”

  My mother’s lips curled. “You’re planning on serving that to our guests?”

  I kept stirring so I didn’t smack her. “Yes, I am.”

  Sienna and my mother shared a horrified look that I pretended not to see. “So.” Aileen claimed the barstool across from me, then she looked around. “I don’t think I’ve been in the kitchen in years.”

  Sienna nudged her shoulder. “That’s what I said!”

  My mother watched me stir. “You know, darling, sometimes these things are best left to the experts. Like Lucy, our longtime chef. Remember her?”

  “She’s right over there.” I pointed to the large stove on the far side of the enormous room, where several of the kitchen staff were working and giving us a wide berth.

  “Yes, yes, I thought I recognized her.” Aileen waved in the stove’s general direction. “Lucy is an excellent pastry chef as well as an accomplished cook. Pryce already went over the menu with her. It did not include cellulite pie.”

  I stopped stirring. “It’s not cellulite, Mother, it’s ricotta. Ricotta-freaking-cheese.
And I am making this pie.” I started mixing with renewed vigor.

  “I can see that.” My mother cleared her throat. “While I have you, let’s talk about this wedding business.”

  Sienna rubbed her hands together. “Maddy was just saying she’d like to do a destination wedding.”

  “I said I might like to do one. Might.”

  “What an excellent idea.” Aileen’s eyes sparkled as she warmed up to the theme. “I’m seeing private cabanas on a white sand beach. Hundreds of twinkle lights as the sun sets. All of our guests, barefoot, with sun-kissed cheeks. And Roberto in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a rather tight-fitting tank top, his muscles bulging—”

  “Mother.” I almost threw my wooden spoon at her. “That’s enough.”

  She fanned herself. “Of course, dear. I’m just saying, I can picture it nicely. Very nicely.”

  I groaned but immediately perked up as Bob and my father came into the kitchen. “How’s it going?” My fiancé’s grin was enough to instantly lighten my mood.

  “Great.” I leaned up and kissed him. “I’m making your mother’s Ricotta Pie.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet.” He peered at the mixture. “It looks delicious.”

  “It looks like puke, son.” My father clapped him on the back. “But I like the fact that you’re supporting my daughter!”

  “Gee, thanks Dad.” I gave my father some side-eye. “What’re you two doing?”

  Dad rubbed his hands together. “Bob here has agreed to play pool with me.”

  Bob laughed. “He only wants to play because I told him I’m terrible at it.”

  “Aw, c’mon son! You know I’ll take it easy on you.”

  Bob crossed his arms against his chest. “I don’t believe you, but it doesn’t matter. We’re playing darts afterwards and Tim says you suck at darts.”

  My father bristled. “Did he, now? I’ll have to show that whipper-snapper a thing or two.”

  “Take it easy on him, Daddy,” Sienna giggled.

  “Do you need help with this?” Bob kept his voice low.

  I eyed the mixture, which did indeed look uninviting. “No?”

  He chuckled. “I love that you tried.” He fingered the notecard. “It means a lot, babe.”

  I leaned closer. “I’m going to cook it, but you only have to pretend to eat it, okay?”

  “Deal.” He kissed my forehead. “Now I have to go let your father clobber me at pool.”

  “But then you can whup him at darts.” I winked at him. We’d agreed to let my father have some wins, as long as they were balanced by some losses.

  “Frank’s coming over for darts,” Bob whispered. “I just texted him.”

  “What was that?” My dad peered toward us.

  “Nothing, sir. Let’s go rack ‘em up.” Bob kissed me one last time, then he and my dad took two beers from the fridge and hustled off.

  “I locked up your father’s gun collection, just in case things get heated.” My mother winked at me. “You’re welcome. Now about this wedding…”

  Josie called me before dinner. “I mentioned that I might want to have a destination wedding, and my mom’s already running with it. She just booked a whole resort for the first week of January. Do you think you can get off work then?”

  “Of course I can. Ooh, fun. It’ll be so nice to get out of Boston and get some sun!”

  “Jose…I haven’t asked you about something because things have been so crazy.” I took a deep breath. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

  “Of course I will!” She went quiet for a second. “You can’t see me, but I’m happy dancing!”

  “You can pick out whatever you want for a dress. Heck, you can pick out my dress. And can you do my makeup?”

  “I’m going to do all the things. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were in fifth grade!” She laughed.

  “Aw, thank you. And if I haven’t said it in a while, you’re the best friend a girl could ask for. Are things okay at your house?”

  Josie took a deep breath. “My mother is cross-examining me about my non-existent love life and your engagement, but it’s fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  She sighed. “I keep trying to focus on the positive, you know? I tell her about how much I love living in the city and how great my job is. But she doesn’t seem too interested in that.”

  “Try not to let her get to you. If that doesn’t work, have a glass of wine. Or four.”

  She laughed. “That’s the plan.”

  “And you know what? You’re going to meet somebody next. I can just feel it.”

  “Yeah well, that would be nice. But for now, let’s just be happy for you and your Italian Stallion, okay? Someday my prince will come, but yours is here now. I can’t wait for your wedding.”

  “Love you, Jose. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Even though it was cold, I headed down to the beach before dinner. I wanted Josie to meet someone great, but I also wanted to support her where she was in her life right now. She didn’t need a man until she met a great one, the right one.

  “Hey.” Bob came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms around me, shielding me from the November wind. We both stared out at the water together.

  “How’d it go?” I asked.

  “Your dad beat me at pool. I beat him at darts.”

  “And Frank?”

  Bob laughed. “Frank said he’s on sabbatical from competition. He said he reached his zenith and he’s ready to retire. But he hung out and had a beer. He’s staying for dinner.”

  I squeezed his arms. “It’s nice you’re making friends.”

  “It is nice.” He kissed the top of my head. “So Aileen tells me we’re having a destination wedding in Belize?”

  I looked up at him. “It’s Belize, now? I thought it was St. Bart’s!”

  “Don’t look at me.” His dimple deepened.

  “How could I not?” I turned and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you for being my…Bob. You make a great fake date, but you’re an even better real fiancé.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Thanks for being my Maddy, and for being the real deal. Fake was fun, but real is better.”

  He kissed me and I pulled back. “Don’t eat the pie, okay?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, babe.”

  Then he kissed me again.

  About the Author

  Leigh James writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense. She is a vocal lover of strapping alpha males in movies, books, and real life, which makes her three kids roll their eyes and makes her husband feel appreciated. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her reading or watching Outlander, Game of Thrones, and Vikings (see penchant for alpha males above). She has a degree in journalism from the University of New Hampshire and a law degree from Suffolk University School of Law with a Concentration in High Technology Law.

  A Note to Readers

  Thank you so much for reading!

  If you’d like to hear about my latest books, sign up for my Mailing List: Leigh James Book News. I only send emails if I have a new release or want you to know about a special sale.

  Also, I hope you enjoyed My Super-Hot Fake Date! I love these characters and had so much fun writing the book. If you liked the story, I’d love to hear from you. Please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or Google Play. It doesn’t have to be long or fancy, just a sentence or two. Thanks so much for considering it!

  Thank you for reading and for your support. It means everything to me!

  xxoo

  Leigh

  Also By Leigh James

  The Escort Collection

  Silicon Valley Billionaires

  The Liberty Series

  The Bad Judgment Series

  Special Thanks

  Thank you for reading this book! I truly hope you enjoyed it. It means so much to me that you took the time to read this story—I love Bo
b and Maddy. I’m rooting for them, and I hope you are, too!

  Thank you to my editor Neila Forssberg and all the other great people at Red Adept Editing. Neila for the win! Thank you for your help with the tennis scenes. You make every book better! I also want to say thanks and send huge love to my mom, who always helps me and is an enormous source of support for my writing. I love you lots.

  And always, love and hugs to my husband and my three children. You guys make every day the best.

  Escorting the Billionaire

  If you enjoyed My Super-Hot Fake Date, you might also like another one of my books: Escorting the Billionaire. Here’s the first chapter so you can check it out!

  CHAPTER 1 - JAMES

  All I wanted was a date for my stupid asshole brother’s wedding.

  Not a girlfriend. Not a relationship. A date.

  No strings. No ties. No games.

  No sex.

  So when I called Elena at the escort service, I was very clear.

  “I want someone beautiful. Who can function at high-society events,” I said. “She needs to be able to use her silverware properly and to be discreet. I can’t have someone who gets drunk and falls down in public. Also, no one who looks cheap. I don’t want a lot of makeup and big, fake boobs.”

  “I don’t have any cheap-looking girls, Mr. Preston,” Elena said. “Unless the client is into that. Then I have plenty.” She laughed.

  I waited for her to finish. “I need her to be available for two weeks. I have cocktail parties, lunches, brunches, the rehearsal dinner, then the wedding. And then for some ungodly reason, my brother wants us all to go on his honeymoon to the Caribbean with him. It’s going to be the wedding from hell.”

  I sighed and rubbed my temples; two weeks with my family was going to be bad enough. And now I was going to have to babysit a hooker the whole time.

  But it was better than going alone. I hoped.