The Real Thing (Sugar Lake Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  Wait. What?

  No. He was doing it again, playing her for a fool.

  Ugh. She pushed from his arms. “What was that? A role you’ve played or something?”

  His eyes coasted over the grass, like he was coming out of a fog. He raked his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Uh. No, actually. Not a role.”

  “Oh.” Now she felt a little lost, too. “I didn’t think you knew what romance was.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right, I . . . um . . .”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Her mind kept circling back to each of the things he’d described. Had he experienced them with someone else? Was that why he was acting so strange? Jealousy clawed up her spine. Suddenly he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his embrace, snapping her mind firmly back to reality.

  “What the hell?”

  He pressed his mouth beside her ear, making her belly tumble despite her annoyance over the abrupt yank.

  “Smile, sweet cheeks. We’ve got company.”

  Willow’s eyes darted around the grounds, landing on a man with a camera pointed directly at them. “What the hell did you do?”

  “Media, baby. That’s why we’re here.”

  She struggled to get out of his grip, wondering how he could have gone from one persona to another in the blink of an eye. And then she remembered. He was an actor. This was how he lived his life, jumping from one role to the next. She didn’t even know who the real Zane Walker was anymore, and she’d already committed to helping him. She clearly needed to step up her game if she was going to remain sane.

  “Willow, relax. All they want is a few pictures of the happy couple. We need the public to buy our engagement, remember?”

  Where were they five minutes ago when we were both lost in your stupid fantasy?

  She was sure she had smoke coming out of her ears. “Is that who you were texting earlier? Tipping off the press? You set this whole weekend up assuming I’d agree to it!”

  He leaned back, flashing a fake but loving smile, and gazed into her eyes as he spoke, smooth as butter. Leave it to Zane to play it up for the cameras. “It’s not a bad thing that I know my fiancée better than she knows herself. Go with it, Wills. Think of the exposure for your bakery.”

  Two could play at this game. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him, knowing his weak points. Or rather, weak point. Flashing her own fake smile, she said, “How’s this?”

  “Mm. That’s more like it.” His hand slid to her ass, and she dug her nails into the back of his neck. Gritting his teeth, he said, “All in the name of believability, babe.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, giving the press exactly what they wanted and telling Zane exactly what she thought. “Putting me in the spotlight without notice is low, Zane, and I don’t do low. Enjoy these few minutes, because after this you’re not getting anywhere near me. It’s one thing to be used, but pulling this shit?”

  “I seem to remember you using me in a much more intimate way.” He touched his cheek to hers again and whispered, “I should have warned you, but I knew you could pull this off. I believe in you, Willow.”

  I believe in you, Willow. That’s what he’d said to her when she’d confided in him about being terrified to leave Sweetwater and go away to school. He’d wrapped her naked body in his arms, and there beneath the stars, having just given her the most incredible night of her life, he’d confided in her that he’d been scared, too, when he’d gone to LA. Now, as her body remembered the feel of him cocooning her from her fears, he splayed his hands over her back, bringing their bodies flush and causing her nipples to spike. The rest of her body also remembered what it was like to be wrapped up safely within his arms, nestled against his naked body, gazing into his confident, caring eyes, and she felt herself moving against his hard length instead of focusing on her anger. This was a bad plan. A very bad plan.

  “It’s only a couple of weeks,” he reminded her, kneading the back of her neck again.

  God, that feels good. How did he remember how much she loved that?

  Forcing herself to think past his scrumptious layers of seduction and focus on the annoyance that had simmered low in her belly moments earlier wasn’t easy. But the lust surging forward threatened to drown her if she didn’t get away from him. Now. “You’ve got three seconds to let go of me and get me out of that reporter’s sight, or that breakup scene you’re anticipating is going to happen a few weeks early.”

  ZANE WRESTLED WITH what the hell had just happened between him and Willow as he scanned the area for an escape before she blew this deal. He’d gotten lost in his own fantasy—only he had never fantasized about romantic walks and stolen kisses. His fantasies were dark and dirty, involving hot, sweaty nights with Willow’s legs wrapped around his neck, or waist.

  “Three. Two,” Willow counted down.

  His eyes landed on a fishing boat preparing to leave the dock. “Come on.”

  They took off running across the lawn and sprinted down the dock, leaving the photographer scrambling to gather the bags at his feet and run after them.

  “Hold on.” She toed off her heels and picked them up, holding them against her as they hurried up the ramp to the boat.

  Zane whipped out a wad of cash and handed it to the crewman. “There’s more where that came from if you can get us out of here now.”

  The burly fisherman grinned from behind his beard and dark sunglasses. “Damn, man. That’s more than it costs to charter the boat for a day.”

  The photographer was on the dock, camera pointed at them as he hurried toward the ramp.

  “I’ll double it if you pull this ramp before that guy gets here.” He nodded toward the photographer.

  “Roll ’er out,” the fisherman called to another guy at the front of the boat.

  Zane put an arm around Willow’s shoulder, shielding her from the photographer. He needed those pictures, but she was right. He should have given her a heads-up, and now all he wanted to do was get her out of the guy’s sight. He ushered her into the cabin of the boat, where a brunette woman and two young boys with thick mops of dark hair were playing a game of Go Fish.

  The woman smiled up at them. “I didn’t know we were chartering today. I’m Cheryl, and these are my boys.” She touched the younger boy’s hand. “This is Tommy. He’s five.” She motioned to the older one. “And that’s Kenny. He’s eight. Say hi, boys.”

  “Hi,” they said in unison.

  The older boy studied Zane. “I know you. You’re the guy from that movie Mom wouldn’t let us see.”

  The woman squinted at Zane.

  “Guns Rebellion?” Zane said. “You’ve got a good memory. That came out last year.” He held a hand out to the woman. “Zane Walker. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Willow cleared her throat.

  “Oh, sorry.” Christ, I’m an idiot. “This is Willow.”

  A blond-haired guy who looked like he pumped weights for a living, sporting a rich tan and eyes the color of the sea, came down from the deck, eyeing Willow appreciatively. He lifted his square chin in her direction. “How’s it going?”

  “Better now,” she said flirtatiously.

  Zane was a big dude at six one, but even so, the blond guy had a solid two or three inches on him. Zane didn’t like the jealousy gnawing at his gut. He thrust his hand in the guy’s direction. “Actor Zane Walker.” If you’ve got it, flaunt it. “This is my fiancée, Willow.”

  Whoa. That felt weird coming out of his mouth. Pretending Willow was his suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

  Willow glared at him.

  The guy’s eyes moved between the two of them. “Fred. Nice to meet y’all. Running from the press?”

  “Yes. Sorry to crash your Friday afternoon,” Willow said, even more flirtatiously than before.

  Zane reached for her hand. “My girl hates the press. Don’t you, sweet cheeks?” That earned him another piercing
glare.

  She turned happier eyes to Fred, taking a long, lascivious look at his muscular frame. “I don’t love the spotlight, but Zane craves it. I guess as the number-one action hero he has to.” She smiled at the woman and children. “He’s also great with kids, and he loves to talk shop.”

  What are you up to?

  “Now that we’re away from the dock,” Willow said with a hint of payback in her eyes, “I’m going to sit in the sun. Why don’t you stay down here and tell these adorable boys all about what it’s really like to be an action hero?”

  “Yeah!” Kenny cheered. “Sit next to me. Do you know The Rock?”

  Zane didn’t mind children, but he sure as hell minded the way Willow was fluttering her lashes at Freddy Beefcake Fisherman.

  “I’m not that familiar with boat safety,” she said to Fred. “Would you mind giving me the rundown?”

  Zane stifled the urge to call her out on the lie. She’d not only grown up on boats, but she’d worked at the marina for a few summers when they were younger.

  “Happy to,” Fred said.

  Kenny tugged on Zane’s hand, pulling him down to the bench beside him, forcing Zane to watch Fred follow Willow up the stairs.

  By the time Zane extricated himself from talking about all things Hollywood with the curious little boys, more than an hour had passed. He found Willow up on deck, leaning back on her elbows, her face angled toward the darkening sky. One leg was stretched out along the padded bench, her other knee was bent, and her dress was bunched up around her thighs. Playboy centerfolds had nothing on Willow Dalton. Even in clothes she was hotter than any woman he’d ever known. She radiated confidence and beauty. He breathed a little easier knowing Fred was fishing a few feet away. At least she wasn’t hanging all over the guy. Then again, he’d never known Willow to be a clingy, throw-herself-at-a-guy type of girl. She was too confident and smart for that, which was why seeing her flirt with Fred had thrown him off-kilter.

  That’s what he told himself, but it was a big-ass lie. It had nothing to do with what she was usually like and little to do with wanting to protect her from a lecherous guy. The truth was, he’d been jealous because she’d chosen to flirt with Fred instead of him. He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much. He could have any woman he wanted, and he did. Often. But the whole time he was in the cabin, he’d been thinking about Willow, hoping she wasn’t up here leading Fred on as she had down below.

  He glanced at Fred, who was talking with Cheryl’s husband, Jay, the bearded guy who had allowed them to board the boat. Jay had come down to the cabin to introduce himself shortly after Willow had gone back up.

  Zane sat down next to Willow and stretched an arm across the back of the bench. “The sun’s going down,” he pointed out.

  “Mm-hm. I don’t care.” She opened her eyes and blinked up at him, then closed them again. “Did you have fun with the kids?”

  “They’re cute, and very curious, which was cool. Way to ditch me, by the way.”

  “You have eyes,” she said in a low voice, looking at Fred. “They don’t make men like that in Sweetwater.”

  Ouch. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  “Like you need to hear how hot you are? Please.” She pushed up and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. “It’s not just his looks. He’s nice. Did you know they’re brothers? Jay got sick last year. He couldn’t work for four months, and Fred took over his charter business so Jay’s family wouldn’t lose the income, and he stayed on afterward. I think that’s sexy, how much he loves his family.”

  If she classified Fred as nice, what did she think he was? Oh, right, an asshat.

  Well, that blows.

  It was no secret that he’d never been close to his unambitious parents, who had never done anything to better their low socioeconomic position, and they hadn’t supported his desire to make something more for himself. Willow’s parents had stepped in and given him the confidence he’d needed. They had not only told Zane to follow his dreams and his heart, but they’d made it seem possible.

  “Listen,” he said quietly. “If this is going to work, you can’t pull that kind of crap. We’re supposed to be a couple.”

  “You realize what I’m giving up to do this, right? If I weren’t fake engaged, I could have a date tonight with a nice guy.” She eyed Fred again.

  He paused to regain control as the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head again. “I get that. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, and I’ll make it up to you in a hundred different ways. But I think I need to give you acting lessons if we’re going to get through this.”

  Her eyes went flat. “Seriously?”

  “Is it that hard to act like you’re into me? I know I screwed up with the photographer, but you’ve got to understand, the focus group is demanding I clean up my act. That photographer is with TMZ. When I tip him off, he shows up. I gave him an exclusive on the story, but part of the deal was that he wouldn’t publish anything until I gave him the okay next week, after we’ve had a chance to break the news to your family.” Lack of privacy was just one of the many reasons he wanted to get out from in front of the camera.

  She rested her cheek on her knees, watching him intently.

  “And whose fault is it that you have to do this in the first place?” she asked sweetly, without judgment, as if she were asking what brand of cologne he wore.

  He rested his elbows on his thighs, brought his eyes level with Willow’s, and whispered, “I get it. I don’t deny I’m the one who chose to live the way I have. I’m surrounded by beautiful women throwing themselves at me and expecting nothing in return but a few hours of hot sex. It’s not like I’m cheating on anyone. Of course I’m going to indulge.”

  She lifted her head with a serious—and hurt?—expression. “You asked if it’s hard for me to act like I’m into you, and the honest answer is yes and no.”

  He sat back and pushed his hand through his hair. He was used to women fawning over him, but Willow didn’t fawn over anyone, least of all him. She’d always called him on his shit, and she was the only woman on earth who had the power to slay him.

  “Because of my history with women?” He braced himself for the kick in the teeth he was asking for.

  She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know. Because of all of it. Because I look at you and I remember things. Because I know the guy you were, and I can’t help but look for him in everything you do. And at the same time, you’re Zane Walker, the best-looking man and most talented action hero on the planet.”

  “Wills. Did you just stroke my ego?” He reached out and put his hand on her forehead. “Are you sick?”

  She laughed, brushing his hand away, but he laced their fingers together and held on tight. Confusion filled her beautiful eyes, mirroring his own emotions.

  “Just when I expect you to give me a cocky answer, you go and do something cute like that.”

  “Cute and the best-looking man on the planet?” Snarky answers were easier than trying to figure out why he was still holding her hand—and didn’t want to let go. “Hell, baby, let’s focus on those two things. That should make it easier for you to pretend to like me. And we’re still doing those acting lessons, because that rolling-your-eyes crap is a dead giveaway that you’re not totally, one hundred percent into me.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “I’d have to be actress of the year to make that happen.”

  “Then I’ll kick up my game and make it so you can’t help but fall for me.” As the words left his lips, he knew he meant them. No matter what it took.

  Cheryl and the boys came up from the cabin. Tommy and Kenny ran over to Fred and Jay.

  Tommy hung on Fred’s legs. “Can I fish, Uncle Fred?”

  “Sure, buddy.” Fred crouched beside the boy and helped him gain control of the fishing line.

  Cheryl sat on the adjoining bench and zipped up her hoodie. She tucked her legs beneath her. “It’s a nice evening, isn’t it?”

  �
��Gorgeous,” Willow said.

  “That’s a beautiful ring,” Cheryl said to Willow. “How long have you two been engaged?”

  “We actually just got engaged earlier today.” Zane draped an arm around Willow, pulling her against his side. Damn, she felt good, and he noticed she wasn’t pulling away, which he liked even better.

  “Really?” Cheryl said with a wide smile. “Congratulations. It seems like a lifetime ago for us. How did you propose?”

  “He’s told this story twice already today. I swear I’ll never tire of hearing it,” Willow said. “Every time he tells it, it feels like the very first time.”

  “Does it, Wills?” He shouldn’t do it, but he’d been carrying the truth around for so many years, he was dying to get it out. Even if it was done only under the guise of telling a totally unrelated story. He took both of her hands in his, spurred on by the anticipatory look in her eyes. If she thought he was going to make a snarky remark, she couldn’t have been more wrong. “Nothing has ever felt like that first night we came together. I knew then we’d end up here one day.”

  Her eyes widened just a hair before her cheeks flushed. He let that soak in for a beat longer before revealing what they were all waiting to hear.

  “I had been wanting to ask her for a long time, but every proposal I thought up seemed like too much or too little. And then we came here for the weekend. We both snuck away under the pretense of being somewhere else.” He lifted Willow’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, watching her intently. The pulse at the base of her neck was beating faster than before, and her lips parted, as if she were hanging on to his every word. Damn, he loved that look, and he couldn’t believe she was giving it to him. He silently vowed to earn it over and over again.

  He glanced at Cheryl. “We have to stay under the radar of the paparazzi, because my Willow really hates being in the spotlight.” He dropped his gaze to Willow’s hand, which had gone warm in his. “I’ll never forget standing on that gazebo with the morning haze hovering over the water, and Willow . . .” He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “She looked angelic with the sun rising at her back, like all the colors of the sunrise were made just for her. Just for that moment.” He met Willow’s gaze and said, “Just for our moment.”