by Zoey Parker
“Please tell me that isn’t the guy who bothered you yesterday,” she said.
Sam wilted. She didn’t want to admit that. As it was, this situation was weird enough. She grabbed for her light jacket and purse. “I’ll explain when I get back. Everything is fine, I promise.”
She sent Krissi her best reassuring smile and glided back out of the reception area.
When she broke through the front doors, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she found Trent leaning against a black car a few spots down in the parking lot.
Chapter Seven
“Ready?” he asked, tossing his keys in the air.
“I guess.” She sighed, yanking open the passenger’s side door.
She slid into the front seat. The car was oddly clean. It was an older car, but it wasn’t trashy or smelly on the inside – honestly, she would have expected that.
Once Trent started the car and backed out of his spot, she relaxed a little.
“So where are we going?”
He grinned as he waited to turn left onto the main thoroughfare. “You ever heard of McDonald’s?”
Sam narrowed her eyes. “Oh, come on. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Trent snorted, that dimple flashing again as he hung a left. They joined the mid-day traffic headed toward downtown. “Fine. We’re going someplace a little nicer than Mickey D’s.”
Excitement simmered inside her, but it seemed wrong. Like she shouldn’t be excited about anything this guy had to offer. But still… she was. In a weird way.
“You show up unannounced at a bar yesterday, and at my workplace today. I think I’ve earned the right to know where we’re going.”
“Fine. We’re heading to Dieter’s Diner.”
She nodded in appreciation. Dieter’s was a locally famous place, known for scratch food and an interesting menu. It was one of the nicer places, not the typical greasy spoon type of diner.
“That sounds great, actually. You surprised me.”
“If that surprises you, I’ve got about a hundred more things that’ll make your jaw drop.”
Something behind his words sent her skin prickling. She couldn’t figure out if that were a warning or a seduction technique.
She sent him a sharp glance. “Should I be worried?”
Trent simply shrugged, that shit-eating grin back on his face. She’d seen the business side of him yesterday. Today felt like someone new. Someone more playful. Maybe even relaxed.
“Guess you’ll find out.”
Sam sighed, crossing her arms. Part of her wanted to play with him, joke around. The other half was still pissed about the whole thing.
“Great. I assume you’re paying.”
“Maybe. Depends on how sassy that mouth gets.”
She rolled her eyes. “I should be allowed unlimited sass for what I’ve been through in the mere twenty-four hours of knowing you.”
A grin tugged at his lips. She couldn’t help but feel satisfied. In any other circumstance, a man like Trent would have her chasing him down. There weren’t many men in life that caught her eye. Sure, she liked a good fuck buddy. Even had a few guys on standby, though she hadn’t reached out to them in a long time. But with the way she’d grown up – all that access to money, pretty clothes, hair styling, and more – it took a lot to impress her. Even though she preferred a quieter life now, she still knew the difference between a simply good-looking guy and one who was drop-dead gorgeous.
And Trent was drop-dead gorgeous.
If only he weren’t the hired help for the Sokolovs, he might be the full package.
“All right. A woman who drives a hard bargain. I’ll take it.” His smile was in full bloom now, and it made her breath shrivel in her throat.
Why did he have to be so hot?
Trent pulled into the diner’s parking lot a few moments later, and they got out. Sam still wasn’t sure how to play this whole thing. This was far from a friendly date. Hell, she half expected him to kidnap her afterward. With Trent, she just didn’t know what was coming next.
Inside, the lunch rush was in full force. Bright white tiles glittered under fluorescent bright globe lights. Servers rushed between tables, big trays loaded with drinks and plates. The whole place smelled like eggs and bacon. Trent took a deep inhale, that sneaky smile crossing his face again.
“I love this place,” he admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah.” It felt like a betrayal to admit it. Like the two of them could have anything in common. “Me too.”
A hostess came up to them and asked how many. Trent held up two fingers. She jerked her head for them to follow, and led them to a back booth. The hostess set the menus down and flitted away. Trent stepped to the side, gesturing for Sam to sit.
“Wow. A secret gentleman?” She scoffed, sliding into one side of the booth, stuffing her purse and jacket against the wall. “I don’t believe it.”
“You’re right.” Trent’s jaw flexed as he sat across from her, those icy-blue eyes scraping over her. “I’m no gentleman. I just pretend.”
His admission made her thighs clench. He was a bad boy to the bone. The first of his kind she’d ever met. She opened the menu, struggling to focus on the words. A nearly impossible task with his seductive heat facing her.
“So does that mean you’re not paying?”
His eyes narrowed. “No. I got your lunch, babe.”
The unexpected pet name sent a surge of moisture to her panties. She fought to remain expressionless. She found the most expensive thing on the menu and decided she’d get that. It didn’t even matter if she liked it. She slammed the menu shut and dragged her gaze up to his.
“I’m no one’s babe. Now, could you please spill? I’m just dying to hear what this impromptu business meeting is about,” she said, making sure her deadpan tone was evident.
Trent scrubbed at his jaw, an amused look on his face. A server wandered up a moment later, and Sam put her order in – the King Kong breakfast. Almost $20.
Trent’s brow shot up, and when the server asked him what he wanted, he said, “I’ll have the same.”
Once the server wandered off with their menus, Trent leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.
“You’re a hungry girl.”
“Whatever. What’s on the agenda?”
He leaned back a little, looking deflated. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh great.” She rolled her eyes. “I can already tell I’ll love it.”
“Actually, you might,” Trent said, that sexy grin making its way onto his face again. “After what I saw yesterday, you’ll probably be begging for it.”
Begging for it. Like she had been in her mind since last night. Desperate for more of Trent. Even if it didn’t make sense.
“Highly doubt that,” she said, even though her pussy pulsed. Trent created a constant war between her mind and body. The man was infuriating. “But go on.”
His slick smile didn’t waver. “I need a fake wife.”
She blinked a few times, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
Sam cocked her head. “Why on earth do you need a fake wife?”
“Reasons.”
She sighed. “That’s not helping convince me.”
“How about this?” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “You pose as my fake wife, and we’ll lessen the debt on your dad’s shoulder. But if you say no, we’ll start putting the pressure on. Won’t be too pretty either.”
The breath she’d been holding escaped her. “Why didn’t you just tell me I had no choice?”
“You have a choice.”
“Hardly.” She narrowed her gaze on him.
“So? That’s a yes?”
She barely wanted to contemplate what this might entail. Posing as this mobster’s wife. Sounded like a great time. Still, she couldn’t ignore the thrum of anticipation inside her.
“Yeah. I’ll do it. If it’s
going to help my dad… of course.”
His pleased smile stretched practically from ear to ear. He leaned back, the sunlight catching the stubble on his jaw. “Good. Because we’ve already got one appearance scheduled.”
“Wow. You move fast. From strangers to newlyweds to an old married couple, all in the span of twenty-four hours.”
“You’re funny,” he said. He clamped his mouth shut when the server returned, dropping off two steaming plates of food. They shared an expectant glance. “Let’s eat.”
Sam dug in, using the food as an excuse not to talk. She focused on her pile of pancakes, the sausage links, the slices of toast, and the elaborate side of biscuits and gravy. It was way too much food, but it was too good not to taste everything. She’d ordered too much food out of spite, but she ended up eating way more of it than she’d bargained.
Once her gut was bursting, and her hunger was more than sated, she pushed the plate aside. Trent had finished his minutes before her.
“Packed a lot away,” he noted wryly.
“Thanks.” She sent him an obviously fake smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The server returned to clear their plates and leave the bill. As he reached for his wallet, Trent commented, “I think we should start preparing for the husband and wife role.”
Her stomach pitched downward. Please don’t be talking about a surprise ceremony. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s go back to your place.” He slipped a crisp fifty-dollar bill on top of the check. “Get to know each other a little bit.”
“I need to go back to work.”
He tutted, shaking his head. “This is more important. We’ve got an important meeting tomorrow, and we need to be prepared.”
“Trent.” She lowered her head, snagging his gaze. Letting him know how serious she was. Hoping he didn’t catch the shift in her whenever they locked eyes. “I have a job. I can’t just drop everything because you have a little pretend date to go on.”
Trent leaned in, his jaw flexing. “This is part of the deal, Sam. Or did you forget already?”
She sat back, annoyed. He was right. And she hated it. “Fine. So what do you suggest I tell my work?”
He shrugged. “Food poisoning?”
“Genius.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, already imagining the call to Krissi. She’d be so suspicious, but all she could do was reassure her that things were fine, that she’d catch her up later.
Trent slid out of the booth, headed for the bathroom. While he was gone, she sent a quick text to Krissi. Texting was easier – for now.
‘Hey girl. Emergency came up at lunch. Everything is fine, just some things I need to take care of. We’ll catch up later. Cancel my appointments, and see if you can get most of them in for later this week. XO.’
She sent the text, gnawing on her lip.
When Trent returned, his boots scuffing against the linoleum, he slid into her booth instead of the one facing her. His jeans brushed her dark slacks, sending heat racing to her core.
“So, Mrs. Mueller, you ready?”
“Is that your last name? Mueller?”
He shook his head. “Nope. But in our new marriage it is.”
She sighed. “Oh, Trent. What have you gotten me into now?”
“This is why you need to take the afternoon off.” He slung his arm along the top of the booth, his hand brushing her shoulder. “We’re gonna need a lot of time to get up to speed.” That glint of mischief had returned to his eyes. The one that told her he was thinking about a lot more than just business. “We need to get well-acquainted as husband and wife.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re acquainted enough with my body.”
“Yeah, but something tells me I’m not the only one who wants to take it further.” His free hand wandered over to her leg, squeezing the top of her thigh. She pressed her legs together; part denying her own attraction, part sending him a message to wander further.
“You’re insane,” she said, but she couldn’t keep the waver out of her voice.
“Am I?” He leaned in, his mouth at her ear. His hot breath made her head tilt, welcoming his nearness. “Seems like you’re practically begging for it. How wet would you be right now if I pushed my fingers into you again?”
Her eyes drifted shut. She wanted more of it. The dirty talk. The illicit encounters. Fuck, maybe this was what she’d been missing her whole life. Some bad boy to show her just how rough she liked it.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Trent nipped her earlobe, and she inhaled sharply. “You’re not saying anything because I’m right.”
His hand slid up her thigh, squeezed her leg right where leg met groin, his fingers digging in dangerously close to her pussy. She drew a shaky breath.
“Be honest,” he whispered. “How bad do you want it?”
She shook her head, eyes pinched shut. She didn’t trust herself to open them. To look at him. To let him see how dead on he was.
“Come on. Tell me.” He dragged his fingers over the crotch of her pants. Even with the fabric barrier, his touch sent desire coiling tight inside her. She pressed her legs together, but he snuck a finger into the crease between her legs anyway. His middle finger found the tight peak of her clit despite her best attempts.
“I think it’s time we went to your house,” he said, stroking her one last time before pulling himself away.
He pushed out of the booth, tugging his leather jacket tight around him. He sent her a devilish grin. One that told her he knew just how well he was pushing her buttons.
He held out his hand. The bad boy picture of a perfect gentleman.
“Let’s go, m’lady.”
Chapter Eight
Trent’s cock ached by the time they made it back to Sam’s apartment. He hadn’t been this hard in what felt like eons. Truth be told, he was beating back his desire at every step. He’d wanted to bend her over the railing outside the diner, take her in the back seat of his car, and push her up against the tree outside her apartment complex. No place was sacred with the desire thrumming through him. He’d fuck her on a church altar if he had to.
Once she shut the door behind them, he assessed her small apartment. His gaze scraped over everything, taking in the small details – the rainbow afghan draped over the back of the couch, the countless pictures of friends and family lining the walls, the fruit basket in the middle of her kitchen island, and the neat tablecloth on her dining room table.
It was the opposite of his place. He liked it.
“Nice pad,” he remarked, dragging a finger over the top of her table. He scuffed his way into the kitchen before he realized she’d paused by the door, slipping her flats off. “Oh. Are you one of those people who take shoes off inside a house?”
She waved him off. “It’s no big deal.”
“Your place is about a hundred times nicer than mine.” He rapped his knuckles against the kitchen island. She had bananas, apples, and avocados in the fruit basket. Unreal.
“I wouldn’t expect yours to be nice.” She hung her purse on a hook by the door. “No offense.”
“Yeah. Why would it be though?” He took a few more steps, then thought better of it. Being inside her space made him suddenly self-conscious. He bent down, untying his boots. “I’m never there.”
A loud meooow interrupted them. A fat tabby cat sauntered their way, his green eyes focused on Trent. He grinned, reaching out as he bent down. The cat approached hesitantly, but eventually rubbed his cheek against Trent’s fingers.
“Hey there, guy,” he said.
“That’s Boswell,” Sam said, sounding a little confused. “He doesn’t usually like anyone.”
“Well, he likes me.” Trent scratched his face, laughing. “He’s nice. Nice name, Bos.”
Trent pet the cat a few more moments, then he stood, slipping his boots off.
Sam sighed, pulling her blonde hair out of the low bun it was in. Her silky tresses cascaded over her shoulders. Her blue eye
s swept up to find his. Electricity shivered through the air. Damn this woman. She made it hard to think straight. To focus on anything other than getting her wrapped around him, naked and dripping.
“So,” she said. “You want a tour or something?”
“Let’s see it.”
“It’ll be a quick one.” She took him to the back of the apartment, pointing out the bathroom and spare room, then brought him to her bedroom. She pushed the door open, gesturing inside. “Master suite. Eat it up.”