“None of this is fair. Neither of us are ready for anything like this.”
She swallowed thickly, nodded slightly. “You’re right. We’re not.”
Because she sounded so final, her words frightened him. He tightened his grip about her and demanded, “You can’t deny that we have something together, Samantha. You can’t deny what we make each other feel.”
Her smile was shaky as she lifted a hand and pressed it to his chin. “I’m not denying anything.”
He blinked.
She wasn’t?
Music in the background suddenly started up, and she tensed then softened against him as she whispered, “Dance with me?”
He almost flinched—he didn’t dance. But she was so soft in his arms, so pliant and molded to him that it would be half-pleasure, half-torture to have her moving against him as they danced to the soft, innocuous jazz.
He kept her tightly pressed to him as he began to move, feeling a little stiff and awkward for not having done this since the horrendous classes his mother had had him endure as a child. But with her in his arms, everything was different.
Nothing was the same.
Not the dance, not the night. Not even breathing.
With her in his arms….
He closed his eyes, his own thoughts overwhelming him. They were like a lightning bolt through the sky, one that hit him square in the solar plexus and that made him feel alive for the first time in a lifetime.
He didn’t understand it.
Wasn’t sure if something like this could be understood.
He’d avoided it and her, pulled away, freed himself from the clinging vines of what she made him feel… but now? Now she was here with him? This coup de foudre as the French called it, it slammed him to the ground and destroyed all his defenses.
“Please, don’t pull away,” he murmured as they swayed in each other’s arms, their bodies brushing in a perfect tangent. “I know it’s frightening, and I know it’s crazy, but let’s just…” He licked his lips, unsure of how to calm her down, to reassure her.
“Breathe.”
The word came from her, and as she didn’t tense up or pull away, he figured that had to be a good sign.
“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Let’s just breathe. We can do this. We can handle this. It’s not a bad thing.”
“Isn’t it? I’m hardly ready for anything of this nature, Josh,” she whispered softly. “You know that.”
“No. I know you’re still coming down from what he did to you, but that’s your past and present. I want to be your future.”
She pulled back, but not to move away. He had to fight himself not to band his arms around her hips and to hold her close. Instead, she stared up at him and whispered, “How can you say that? You’ve just told me that your mistress is here. She wasn’t your first. Neither will she be your last. How can I be your future when you’re the kind of guy who has a mistress?” She paused. “I don’t fit in with that kind of thing, Josh. Jamie was many things but I knew he wasn’t a cheater.” She rolled her eyes. “I used to wish he was, but he was too obsessed with me for me to have to think about anything like that. And I’m used to that, I guess. He had many undesirable traits,” she murmured carefully, grimacing as she peered around them. “Many,” she reiterated, “but that was actually a good one. I don’t want that kind of lifestyle, Josh. I really don’t.”
“Why do you think I got rid of Jasmine, Samantha?” he asked her, his tone urgent.
“I don’t know,” she admitted on a sigh, a sigh so deep she almost went limp in his arms as she sank into him.
He felt every inch of her press against him, and knew that she was made to be there—how he knew, he didn’t fucking care. It was as obvious to him as his hair color or the fact the ability to make billions was in his genes.
“If I wanted that, I could have kept her. I didn’t have to tell you about her.”
“Good luck with that when she’s across the room glowering at us,” she mumbled against his shirt.
He turned to seek out his ex-lover and did, indeed, find her glowering at them. He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting her out, refusing to blink until she moved her head and shifted focus from them.
“I could have told you she was an angry ex. I didn’t have to tell you the truth of our relationship, did I?”
“No,” she conceded. “You were brutally honest, that’s for sure.”
Though he winced, he inserted quickly, “I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Good. That’s a fabulous start.”
Her wry tone put him on edge. Why? He wasn’t entirely sure.
Then, it came to him.
He was so used to everyone being serious with him, everyone listening to his next breath like it was scripture, never mind his words. Everyone wanted a piece of him. They wanted advice, wanted to pepper him for news on the stocks—which to buy and which to dump. They wanted everything he had to give.
But she wasn’t like that.
Shit, when had he become such a self-important dick? When had he started to believe his own press?
Letting out a shaky breath as this revelation came at the same time as he thought he was fighting for his life with Samantha, he murmured, “I didn’t have to tell you about Jasmine, did I? I could have bypassed it entirely. Instead, I was honest with you. To my detriment because now you think I’m one way when I’m not.”
She rubbed her forehead against his chest. “I’m not ready for this.”
“You think you’re not ready.” He could feel her tense, but he pressed a kiss to the top of her crown to soothe her. “I’m not whitewashing your words, I’m just trying to explain. You think you’re not ready, but you’ll never be ready. I know the situation, and I’m not trying to push you into anything too quickly. If anything, I’m asking you to think about starting something with me. This, what we have together, it blows my mind, Samantha. I’m trying to figure out why it doesn’t blow yours.”
“Of course it does,” she whispered thickly. “How can you say that? Josh, I’ve slept with two men in my life. My husband and you now. I don’t sleep around lightly.”
“Then what happened that day?”
“I don’t know what or why, I just know that it did.” She frowned at him. “I see no point in questioning it when it’s already done.”
“No, I don’t either, so why are we questioning why it happened when it already did, and we both know how we made each other feel.”
She sighed. “Because good sex doesn’t mean everything.”
“Doesn’t it?” he asked wryly.
“No.” She prodded him with her finger, and the gesture was so playful, so unlike her, something in him settled. “You know it doesn’t. Just because we’re good in that sense, doesn’t mean we’d be good elsewhere.”
“No, I agree. So how about we open ourselves up to the possibility that we could be great together outside of hallways?”
She winced. “I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.”
“Me neither,” he said drily.
“I call BS. No way. You must have had crazy college days.”
“I guess, but I was always scared of getting caught. I wasn’t thinking that day when we were together,” he admitted softly, once again brushing his lips over the top of her head. “I was just feeling. I want to try that again. I’ve never lived like that before.”
She tensed a little in his arms before she exhaled deeply and admitted, “Life’s funny sometimes, isn’t it?”
“In what way?”
“We’ve spent all these years disliking each other. All these years pretty much avoiding one another, and now? Now we’re totally trying to change the goalposts.”
He shrugged. “Jamie made sure we didn’t like one another.”
Her forehead pressed into his chest. “He did that.”
“I’m sorry I believed him.”
“Don’t you believe him now?”
He stiffened. “How can you
ask me that?”
She looked at him, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean that how you’ve taken it. I mean, he might have told you things that were true. It didn’t have to be all lies. Sometimes, I do leave makeup towelettes on the side of the sink, and my shoes are never ordered right. They’re always in a jumble at the bottom of my closet.”
“Those two confessions hardly make you a Nazi,” he told her on a laugh.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I know. But you can figure out what I mean, Sherlock.”
“Yeah. And I’m sure there’s irritating shit I do too. But, let’s face it, we all have our quirks and habits. They’re what make us who we are. And you don’t start anything with someone thinking that those quirks and habits are going to make you split up ten years down the line.”
“No,” she conceded with a quick smile. “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”
“Just a little.” His lips twitched. “But I understand.”
“You do?” When she peeked up at him like that, he felt like his knees had just been kicked out from under him.
There was trust and hope, fear and worry, a whole gamut of emotions that both floored him as well as petrifying him.
He shouldn’t want her to look at him that way. Shouldn’t want her to feel this good in his arms, but she was and she did. And he did want. A lot. Everything.
Swallowing thickly, he turned her slightly so they were facing away from the dance floor where a few dozen couples had merged together into some-good and some-terrible slow dances. Not that he could judge. He had two fucking left feet.
Still, with a bit more privacy, he murmured, “Just try. For me.”
She let out a deep breath. “My pace?”
“Your pace.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He smiled, relieved to his core that she’d agreed to… what?
Hell, what had he even been asking for?
He wasn’t sure, not really, just knew that he wanted more. That he wanted more of her, more time with her… time to figure out what they were feeling, time to see if this was as real as his terrifying emotions for her indicated.
Still, he didn’t say any of that. Just hugged her tighter into his arms and danced.
“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight after you canceled, Joshua.”
Jasmine’s voice grated on his ears, but he was surprised to note that Samantha didn’t stiffen in his arms. What that meant, he wasn’t sure.
“I canceled on you, not on the event, Jasmine,” he told her coldly as he stopped dancing, and tucked his arm around Samantha’s waist. Hauling her close, he couldn’t have made it more obvious who he was with, and that they were definitely an item.
Jasmine narrowed her eyes, her dewy skin turning pale at the cold fire in his eyes. Still, the foolish bitch jerked her chin up with a self-righteous glower at him, and demanded, “You didn’t even have the decency to call me back.”
“We didn’t have that kind of arrangement,” he told her, polite now. “You and I both know that. We saw each other a handful of times…”
“And I spoke with your PA more than I did with you.” Jasmine’s words were bitter, and with Samantha so close, he found it in himself to feel guilty.
What must she think of him?
Still, she didn’t tense up as he’d feared, merely murmured, “Darling, don’t be a mistress, then, you’ll get more calls than booty calls.”
Jasmine’s eyes flared. “And what are you if not his mistress?”
Samantha’s smile was pure feline as she raised a hand and flickered her fingers. “Why, I’m his fiancée.”
Jasmine’s mouth dropped open. “His fiancée? You were seeing her while you were seeing me?”
“I saw you a handful of times,” he reiterated, not wanting Samantha to think otherwise. “And that was before Samantha and I even started seeing each other in this way.”
“Well, you’re a fool if you think you can change him. You’re a fool if you think he’s the marrying kind!” She gritted her teeth. “He’ll just use you and then discard you when you’re done.”
“Yes, very naughty of him, isn’t it? But then, dear, you should try not to be so disposable.”
For a second, Josh wasn’t sure what he’d heard, and he knew Jasmine was as perplexed too. She let out a shriek of outrage then stormed off, her stilettos clacking as she steamed ahead without looking back.
Samantha let out a deep sigh. “That was wicked of me.”
He coughed. “Perhaps. But it got rid of her.”
She peered up at him, her brow cocked. “I won’t let you treat me like that. You do know that, don’t you?”
His eyes were serious as he stared deeply into hers. “You’re night to her day.”
She pursed her lips. “Now he decides to be charming,” Samantha grumbled, and somehow, he knew they’d be okay.
Chapter 16
Samantha
Two months later.
Erin’s eyes grew wider as the box was shuffled into the room by two, very large, delivery men. Though she was irritated by what was going on, Samantha couldn’t help but be amused at her son’s reaction. She wasn’t sure if he’d be more impressed by Superman flying into the room than he was by this behemoth gift that was slowly, but surely, being carried into the house.
The delivery men’s blue T-shirts, emblazoned with the slogans of the company they worked for, were drenched in sweat, and considering the size of the package in their hands, Samantha couldn’t entirely blame them for feeling the strain. Each breath was labored, and their cheeks were as bright pink as her angora sweater.
“What is it, Mommy?” Erin asked, his voice small but it was high too, excitement at the prospect of being able to open the parcel starting to fill him. He’d been shifting from foot to foot at her side, but now? He was almost hopping up and down with each step the men took, bringing the box deeper into the room.
“I have no idea, sweetheart. Anything could be inside,” she teased softly, though she hadn’t made the purchase herself, she knew from the docket what it was as well as who’d sent it, her fake fiancé that wasn’t so fake. Tapping her chin with the hand clammy little fingers weren’t clinging to, she watched as the men carried on struggling through the small entryway to her living room, and with a relieved huff of breath, placed it square in the center.
“Where you want it?” came the gruff demand.
“Do you mind moving the old TV?” she asked, somewhat mournfully, hoping the older of the pair wouldn’t huff at her too much. The younger one, well, she knew he’d do what she asked—a notion that had her tensing up a little. But the elder? He was far too world-worn to let a pretty face get away with murder.
She was surprised when, moments later, he heaved a sigh, waved the younger guy over, and headed to the smaller unit to shift it away.
“You want it there?” the other guy, one with a glint in his eye, asked her as he checked her out.
“Please. It’s out of the way until I can figure out where else to put it.” She shot him a tight look and curled her spare hand on Erin’s shoulder—taking comfort in his presence.
“Our pleasure,” he replied, his smile far too flirtatious for her liking.
Maybe it was because she’d come to hate when men looked at her that way because it always made Jamie jealous, but she hated being appraised. Loathed it.
Even now, when she was free from her husband’s grasp, accepting a come-on just made her skin prickle. She’d been conditioned, Samantha supposed sadly. Any woman would find it a compliment for an attractive man to smile at her the way the delivery man was. But she didn’t like it. Couldn’t find it in herself to do anything than shoot him wan looks.
She’d noticed him notice her when he’d jumped out of the van, and had felt dread unfurl through her at the sight.
Sighing, because she’d thought she was past this, she stayed close to Erin as they unstripped the new TV from the box.
Though its size was evid
ent from its container, she still blinked at the massive piece of tech. And it was one of those curved ones too, with all the bells and whistles. God, how much had it cost?
“He must have spent a fortune,” she grumbled under her breath, and all because he’d suggested a movie night the other day.
How had that suggestion leapfrogged to this?
Her TV was quite ample, if very small. By comparison to this behemoth, her 20” unit looked like Erin in comparison to Josh.
Amused at the thought, she watched as the guys, who were charged with orders to install the TV too, began to set out everything they needed to get the job done.
“You want it on the wall? Or on that stand?” The one that had supported the old TV.
“Don’t you need a bracket?” she asked.
“One’s included,” the younger deliveryman said huskily.
It was easier to eye the wall than it was to look at him. “Oh, well, sure.” It would probably fit above the fireplace which she didn’t intend on using anyway, and that would put it bang in the center of the main wall.
Pointing out where she’d like it, the men got to work and in no time at all, the TV was on the wall and Erin was gaping at it like he’d never seen anything similar.
Considering they’d had one in their old apartment, she bit back a sigh.
Boys and their toys.
Rubbing her arms when they left, the younger delivery man smiling sultrily at her, she closed the door behind him with relief and pressed her back to it.
As the volume started to soar, she hollered, “Erin? Are you playing with the remote when I told you not to?”
“No, Mommy,” came the instant reply and an immediate lowering of the volume.
Despite herself, she had to grin, and reaching for her phone, she connected to Josh’s.
“Hello?” As his answer was brusque, she assumed he hadn’t looked at his caller ID.
“It’s me.”
There was a pause, then a, “Good morning.”
Considering his tone went from chilly to so warm that Samantha’s toes curled in response, she figured he knew who he was talking to now.
Her throat choked a little, her body reacting in more ways than one to that note in his voice…
Believing Her: An Enemies to Lovers Fake Fiancé Romance Page 13