She was breathing so hard Zane expected another explosion, but she grabbed his face and crushed her mouth to his. Stunned, it took a moment for his addled brain to kick into gear, and when he did there was no holding back. There never was when it came to kissing Willow. He deepened the kiss, dipping her back like it was a grand kiss in a movie. But this was no movie, and this kiss—holy hell, this kiss—was nothing short of amazing, and it went on far too long for a kiss witnessed by family, but Zane was in no hurry for it to end.
When their mouths finally parted, he was so overcome with emotions, “God, I love you,” came out before he could stop it.
“Glad to hear it,” her father said. “Now let’s get you a beer.”
WILLOW AND ZANE had dinner with her family. By the time they finally left, Willow felt like she’d been through the wringer. Thankfully, her family had stopped peppering them with questions after she’d attacked Zane with the kiss that topped all others. But ever since, things had changed between her and Zane, and that was more nerve-racking than her family’s questions. She couldn’t look at him without her body heating up, and that was dangerous territory.
“I’m so glad that’s over,” she said honestly.
Zane placed his hand on her thigh, and her mind went straight to the gutter. How would she make it through the next two weeks when one kiss could set her body ablaze?
“You nailed it, Wills. That kiss was kryptonite to your family’s interrogation.”
“Whatever it takes, right?” She drove down the street toward the bakery, telling herself she’d kissed him for the sake of selling their ruse, not because she’d been waiting for an excuse with every breath she’d taken since last night. “I need to talk to Bridgette. I hate that she’s hurt.”
“I know, babe. Why don’t we put our stuff in your apartment and go get a drink? After she puts Louie to bed, we can talk to her.”
She eyed him. “We?”
“I’m not letting you take the blame.”
It’s like you really care.
He peered through the windshield intently. “Don’t stop the car.”
“Why?” She spotted two guys standing outside the bakery. “Oh God. Are those your reporters?”
“They’re not my reporters, and no. The guy from TMZ already lost his exclusive. He’s moved on to bigger and better stories. Those must be locals looking to make a buck.”
“Great. So now I can’t even go back to my own bakery? How am I supposed to get to my apartment?” She lived above the bakery.
“I’ve got an idea. Head down to Dutch’s Pub, but drive around first in case they’re watching the cars.”
“You think they won’t find us if we’re sitting in a bar? They’ll get bored of waiting and end up there anyway.” She passed the bakery and kept driving until she was several blocks away before looping around the block and heading down toward the marina.
“We’re not staying there. I just want to talk to Harley.” Harley Dutch was a bear claw, big enough to share and sweet to the very core. He had gone to school with Zane and Ben. He’d had a thriving financial management business in New York City until a few years ago, when his father had gotten ill and he’d returned to Sweetwater to help with the family pub. She knew Harley still helped Zane and Ben manage their investments.
“I’m supposed to make Louie’s Spider-Man cake tonight for his party tomorrow.”
“Do you want to deal with those reporters? I’m used to it—”
“No! I’ve had enough stress for one day.”
“Then I’ll help you make the cake tomorrow. We’ll get up early and make it before the party.”
“The party isn’t until the afternoon. I guess that’ll work.”
He took out his phone. “Let me text Harley.” After he was done, he said, “Okay, we need to swing by Harley’s house,” and went back to texting. “Can we make a quick stop at Everything and More?”
Everything and More was a small-scale department store owned by Dennis Preacher, a crotchety old man who had growled at customers ever since he’d lost his wife to cancer eight years ago. Willow couldn’t help but love Dennis and often made him special pastries just to see if she could earn a smile. It worked about a third of the time. He was definitely an acquired taste, like molasses cookies.
When she pulled up in front of the store, Zane jumped out and told her he’d be right back. Nearly twenty minutes later, she was debating going in to find him when he finally returned carrying two enormous shopping bags, which he tossed into the backseat. A pillow stuck out the top of one of them.
He slid into the front seat. “Sorry it took so long. Penny Preacher was working tonight. She texted me when she heard we were filming in Sweetwater and asked me to stop by. I figured I’d give her a thrill.”
Penny was Dennis’s granddaughter. She was a year younger than Willow and had won Strawberry Queen three years in a row at Sweetwater’s annual Strawberry Festival. She was a definite fruit and custard pastry puff, beautiful inside and out.
“Give her a thrill? Is that short for . . . Never mind. Don’t answer that.” She sped out of the parking lot, trying to remember how to breathe.
An hour later, after meeting up with Harley, who lived down the road from the pub, they were in a rowboat loaded up with camping gear and whatever else he had bought at Everything and More. The water swished off the oars as Zane rowed them out toward the island, and Willow was still stewing over Zane giving Penny a thrill.
“This is your big plan? We’re going to row out to the island and camp?” She lifted a bottle of her favorite wine from one of the boxes Harley had given them. At least she’d have that. They used to take rowboats out to the island with her siblings when they were kids, and Zane almost always came with them. Talia would read on the shore, Piper built forts, and Willow and Bridgette would pretend they were on a tropical island, ordering Ben and Zane around as if they were cabana boys. Most of the time Ben would ignore them, but Zane usually played along. It made sense now. Even back then he was honing the craft that would make him famous.
“Do you have a better plan?” His voice strained as he rowed faster. “If we stay at the B and B, they’ll just hound the place and drive the owners crazy. This way you’ll have a place to chill without anyone bothering you. Besides,” he admitted a little sheepishly, “I seem to remember a certain girl telling me she dreamed about being whisked away to a remote island.”
“How do you even remember that? It was—” The night we slept together. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. She silently chastised herself again. Do not over-romanticize this! It was hard not to when he remembered something she’d said a decade ago. “A long time ago. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“I could have borrowed Harley’s motorboat, but that would have alerted the reporters on a quiet night like this.” He stopped rowing and gazed out at the lights of the town fading in the distance. “Besides, you don’t need a yacht to be treated like a princess.”
Her breathing hitched. “What did you say?”
“You don’t need a yacht to be treated like a princess.”
He began rowing again, moving through the water at a fast clip, while she tried to get ahold of her whirling emotions. Last summer he’d texted and invited her to join him on a yacht for the weekend, and he’d promised to treat her like a princess. Her response had been, No, thanks. I don’t need a yacht to be treated like a princess.
She crossed her arms, gathering the courage to call him on it, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, something inside her fluttered with appreciation. He remembered two things that anyone else might have found insignificant. What did that mean? She watched him more carefully, taking in the way his jaw flexed with his efforts, his strong hands gripping the oars like he’d been rowing every day of his life. She doubted he’d even been out on a rowboat since they were kids. She lifted her gaze and found him watching her, arousing the lust he’d been stirring like an out-of-control blender.
“What are you doing, Zane?” she finally managed.
“Rowing us out to the island.” When he spoke again, his voice was laced with seduction. “What are you doing, Wills?”
Falling for you again.
The island came into view, and without breaking their connection, he dragged one oar in the water, guiding the boat toward the land.
“You know what I mean,” she challenged.
His lips quirked up. “You mean, what am I doing, as in saving you from the media hounds? You’re my fiancée. It seems like the right thing to do. Don’t you think, sweetheart?”
“Fake fiancée,” she said softly, gazing down at the ring. Maybe he didn’t remember that text after all. She wished she could get his comment about Penny out of her mind, or at least stop feeling like she was falling for him again. Because the two conflicted so harshly she was left feeling like half-risen dough.
“What’s the matter, Wills? Nervous about spending the night on a remote island with your man?”
She swallowed hard against the truth. She wasn’t worried about Zane making a move on her. It was her own lack of control around him that concerned her.
“No,” she said too sharply. “And you’re only my fake man.”
“I assure you, I’m one hundred percent real man, even if I’m your fake fiancé. But don’t worry, baby cakes, I brought all the provisions we’ll need.”
She imagined he meant condoms, and she was as turned on as she was annoyed by the idea.
He docked the boat on the shore and reached for Willow’s hand to help her out. She was flustered and still feeling a little prickly about Penny.
“I’ve got it.” She jumped out of the boat, and her foot sank into the mud. “Ugh.”
“Why don’t you go up on the beach and I’ll get the gear.”
“I can help.” She reached for a bag, which was heavier than it looked. “What’s in this?”
“All the stuff we need.”
She peeked into the bag. “Towels?”
“You didn’t think I’d leave my skinny-dipping girl hanging, did you?” He waggled his brows and grabbed two boxes.
Willow had always loved skinny-dipping. Her family knew she’d sneak down to the lake at night and take a quick dip. She’d been caught skinny-dipping up in the mountains by her friend Logan Wild a few years earlier, too, but she didn’t remember mentioning that to Zane. “I can’t believe you remembered I like to skinny-dip.”
“Are you kidding? I used to set my alarm so I wouldn’t miss your dips in the lake.”
“For some reason I believe that.”
He laughed and they headed into the woods. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath their feet. Willow stayed close to Zane in the dark forest, wondering if he really had watched her skinny-dip. She had always been careful to walk down by the boathouse, where no one was ever around after dark. A thrill ran through her at the prospect of his naughty peeking.
“Pick a spot, beautiful.”
“I can barely see.”
He set down one of the boxes and turned on the flashlight app on his phone.
“You lead. I’ll follow.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice before saying, “Just like old times.”
Her pulse quickened as they wove through the thickly wooded area, but her mind kept jumping back to giving Penny a thrill. It wasn’t like he’d been in the store long enough to do anything, but the way he’d said it still bugged her.
“How are we going to set up a tent here? And what about a bathroom? This feels a little extreme for avoiding photographers. We don’t even know if they were photographers.”
“They were. A few local photogs, as I suspected. I texted my security guys. They’ve probably already taken care of it, and you won’t have to be bothered for the rest of the time I’m in town.”
“You sound like a drug dealer or a Mafia man.” Lowering her voice an octave, she said, “My security guys.”
“If you’re going to bitch about photographers, you can’t give me shit about what needs to be done to get rid of them.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “But you need the media. Aren’t they part of the focus group’s plan? You can’t screw that up.”
“I’ll figure something out. But I’m not going to screw up your life in the process. We’ll be seen enough around town without you being hounded by the press.”
“What if the focus—”
“Wills, I’ve got this. Let me deal with it, okay? No one is going to make you feel like a prisoner in your own town. At least not because of me.” They came to a clearing, and he set down the supplies. “This is perfect. I’ll get the rest.”
“I’ll go, too.”
“Only if you hold my hand.”
She hesitated, still thinking of Penny. “Why?”
“Because part of acting is immersing yourself in your character.” He stepped closer, a glimmer of seduction in his eyes. “Immerse with me, Wills.”
“Maybe you should have brought Penny.” She stepped away, but he grabbed her hand and hauled her back.
“Green is not your color, baby.”
She rolled her eyes, struggling against him as his arms circled her, holding her captive.
“Now we’re back to eye rolling?” Tightening his grip with one hand, he ran his finger along the edge of her jaw. “You’re the one who keeps pointing out that this is a fake engagement.”
“It is.”
“But you keep forgetting, no one here is supposed to know that. Not your family, not Harley, and definitely not Penny Preacher.”
He pushed his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her head, and angled her face toward his as he had right before they’d kissed last night. He held her gaze for so long, her stress turned to anticipation.
“More importantly,” he said in a husky voice. “Fake or not, I’d never embarrass you by hitting on another woman when I’m supposed to be with you. I might not be a saint, but I’m not a cheat. Besides, why would I ever drive a Honda when I have a Bentley in the garage?” He cocked a brow. “Coming?”
Not yet.
Holy smokes. Seriously? She was definitely losing her mind. “No. Go ahead.” She pointed toward the boxes. “I’m going to find the wine.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN ZANE CAME back from getting the supplies, he found Willow sitting on the hill with her back to their campsite. She’d always needed time alone to cool down, and if she was feeling their sizzling connection even half as strongly as he was, she’d need a lot of space. He glanced up the hill, catching her silhouette against the moonlight. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and her head was tipped up toward the sky. She looked peaceful and beautiful and so frigging sexy he could stare at her all night long, which was precisely why he returned his attention to setting up their campsite.
Inside the tent, he finished laying out the sleeping bags and spread the Egyptian cotton sheets he’d bought over them, set the pillow at the top, and checked the string of LED lights he’d hung around the entrance one last time before setting out the goodies he’d brought. He took care of a few more things, tossed his phone in the middle of the bed, and went to join her.
“Hey,” she said as he dropped down beside her.
“You okay?”
“Mm-hm. Sorry about before.”
He put an arm around her. “As I said, green’s not your color. If I hinted at wanting to do anything more than letting Penny feel happy that I remembered she’d texted me, then I’m sorry. I was just killing two birds with one stone.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m just a little messed up right now.”
“I think I’ve already stolen that title. Your rep is clean.” Pressing a kiss to her temple felt natural, and really, really good. How many years had he wished for time alone with Willow? “I’m sorry for putting you through this, but I’m glad we’re getting this time together.”
She gave him a long, assessing gaze. “Are you?”
More than I
ever realized I would be. “Hell yes.”
“But why? You’re stuck out in the woods when you could be anywhere else.”
“But you wouldn’t be there.”
For years they’d kept each other at arm’s length, and now heat and the past and something much bigger seemed to twine together, tethering them with an unbreakable bond. His body moved of its own accord, leaning forward, wanting her, needing her in his arms. Her eyes said, Take me, but he knew he’d never stop at one kiss. There was no way. Not this time. Before he could get carried away, he pushed to his feet, grabbed the bottle of wine she’d been drinking, and pulled her up beside him.
“Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“A better surprise than a fake engagement and photographers stalking my work and home?”
He turned her by the shoulders in the direction of the tent. The lights twinkled against the dark forest.
“Oh, Z—”
His heart thumped harder. That breathless whisper did him in. He took her hand and led her down to the tent. “Go on in, princess.”
She went down on her knees on the edge of the bed. He watched her beautiful eyes drift over their comfortable bed and the cupcake he’d set off to the side.
“I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as yours, but I figured you might want something to go with this.” He set down the wine bottle and knelt beside her, handing her his phone. “Turn it on.”
She pushed the button, and the screen came to life, revealing the opening credits of the movie The Notebook. She covered her mouth, her eyes warm and dreamy.
“There’s a whole playlist if you’re not in the mood for that one.” He reached over and navigated to Willow’s Playlist, watching as she read the titles—You’ve Got Mail, Titanic, 50 First Dates, Sleepless in Seattle, Love Actually, Pretty Woman . . .
Scrolling through the twenty-plus titles, she said, “All my favorites.”
“Yeah.”
“How . . . ?”
“Ten years of being blown off is a long time. Each time you blew me off, you revealed a little more about yourself. Your favorite movies, that you like the Strawberry Festival better than any of the others, your penchant for custard instead of cream filling, your hatred of blue skirts and guys with no chest hair . . .”
The Real Thing (Sugar Lake Book 1) Page 10