The Virgin’s Fake Fiance

by Kim Loraine

  Warm lips pressed against the nape of my neck. "Morning, love," he whispers, his low rumble sending shivers down my spine.

  I wiggle my hips and moan at the sensation of his heavy length pressing against me. "Morning." I yawn and stretch, rolling over until I'm on my back. "What are we doing today?"

  He trails his fingers down my body, between my breasts and farther, until he's drawing lazy circles around my bellybutton. "I wish I could say we're staying in this bed all day, but I can't." His lips brush my shoulder. "I have a few things to set in order before the wedding."

  Disappointment gnaws at me, but I push it away. I know this isn't permanent. He's got responsibilities, a life, and I'm only here on vacation. I have to school my heart if I'm going to avoid getting hurt. I nod and sit up. "I need coffee and a shower."

  "Are you cross with me? That I can't ravish you all morning?"

  "No. It's just hard to keep myself focused on the fake aspect of all this. We're using each other. This isn't a real relationship. I need to remember that, and you make it so hard to accept."

  I stand, but he wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs. "No, you don't, naughty nun. Maybe it's hard to accept because it feels real to me too."

  He's not helping. I'm already dreading letting him go in a few days when I head back to Montana. "We've known each other less than twenty-four hours. How can you say it's real?"

  He cocks an eyebrow, obviously teasing me. "Love at first sight?"

  "Stop it."

  "What? That's how it works in all the fairy tales. The prince sees her and falls madly in love. All stories hold a hint of truth."

  "Well, you're not a prince, and I'm certainly not a princess."

  "Please, Charity, give this a chance. I'm not asking for forever. Give me the week, and then we'll see where this goes."

  I want to. I want nothing more than to stay in his world and let him sweep me away. I've never done anything reckless in my entire life, but with Lincoln, it doesn't feel reckless. It feels right.

  "Okay."

  His smile is wide and lights up his entire face. He looks carefree, happy, and I'm the one who made him that way. "Brilliant. Now, you go shower, and I'll get the coffee on."

  "Maybe you are a prince," I tease.

  "Maybe."

  He presses a kiss to my hand before letting me go. I can't stop myself from tossing a glance over my shoulder as I walk into the bathroom. He's staring, heated gaze focused on my bare bottom.

  "It's not polite to stare," I say.

  "It is when looking at a piece of art."

  I roll my eyes, but a hot blush creeps across my cheeks. "You're definitely Prince Charming."

  I close the door behind me because if I give in and look back at him again, I won't get my shower. I'll end up under him, and we'll be lost in each other for the rest of the morning. He has work to do, and I have to try and keep myself from falling harder for him.

  Stepping into the large shower, I let the hot water soothe muscles sore from being used in ways I never knew they could. I wash the memory of Lincoln from my body, but I'm enveloped by his scent when I use his body wash, his shampoo, his conditioner. I'm wrapped in a cloud of Lincoln, and I love it. All day, I know I'll have a reminder of him with me.

  My long hair is heavy and dripping as I stand in the bathroom with a fluffy towel wrapped around me. I twist another towel turban style around the thick strands and stare at myself in the mirror. Do I look different now that I've had sex? I don't think so. I feel different though. Complete. But I think that's less from sex and more from being with Lincoln.

  He's not in the bed when I leave the bathroom; the sheets are still rumpled, and our clothes are on the floor. Flashbacks of him hovering over me, pressing inside, the look on his face as he tried so hard to hold back, all hit me at once, and I need him. I pull one of his shirts off the hanger in his large closet, not wanting to wear my clothes from yesterday. It hangs to mid-thigh on me, and I love it. I love knowing this fabric brushed his skin. Buttoning the middle three buttons, I then roll up the sleeves and let my hair out of the towel. It's damp, but not wet enough to make a mess. The scent of fresh coffee filters in through the slightly open door and my heart flips. Lincoln is waiting for me.

  I find him standing at the kitchen bar, two gray mugs sitting side by side in front of him. He's shirtless, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder, and I want to lick every exposed inch of his muscled chest.

  "Hey," I manage to eek out.

  "Coffee's on." He pours from the French press at his side and fills both cups. "Do you take cream or sugar?"

  I shake my head and reach for the cup. "I like it black."

  "My shirt looks good on you."

  My cheeks heat. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't want to wear my clothes. They need to be washed."

  "Do you have any knickers on under that shirt?"

  I giggle. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  "Yes, I would. Very much."

  I take a sip and groan at the rich flavor. This is the best coffee I've ever had. "This is heaven."

  "I've become something of a coffee snob over the last few years. My family doesn't understand. They're dedicated tea drinkers."

  "Tea is good, but coffee is everything."

  He laughs. "I don't know that it's everything, but I prefer it." We are silent for a while, both drinking our coffee as we sit together. His gaze locks on mine every once in a while, and a slight grin turns up his lips. "What'll you do today, love?"

  I shrug. "I don't know. I suppose I'll have to try and find my wallet. Or call my bank and get a new card sent to me. I can't go to the reunion in your shirt and no panties."

  "So you aren't wearing knickers. I knew it."

  I laugh and pop the top button on the shirt. "Why don't you come over here and check for yourself?"

  He sets his mug down on the counter and stalks toward me. In one smooth motion, the man scoops me into his arms and carries me back to his bedroom. "I'd better give you a thorough examination."

  Chapter 7

  Charity

  I don't think I can walk. Lincoln made sure my voice was hoarse and my thigh muscles quivered before he left for work. Now, I'm sitting on the couch, flipping channels and wondering where his washing machine is so I can at least have clean clothes to wear tonight. I stand and walk back into the bedroom to collect my clothes. I can't help but strip the sheets from his bed. The evidence of my claimed virginity is on the sheets, just a bit of blood, but I don't want anyone else seeing that. Not his housekeeper, certainly. Arms full of clothes and sheets, I turn back around and begin my hunt for the laundry room.

  As I pad down the hall, popping my head into room after room, I fantasize about a life with Lincoln. Would we live here? Find a new home? What would it be like to have him every night and day?

  "Hello?" A feminine voice catches me off guard and I flinch, dropping my armload of laundry.

  "Who's there?" I call, scooping my items back into my grasp.

  "I'm Clara, Lincoln's executive assistant." The woman comes down the hall, her petite stature and graying hair offering me some comfort. At least she's not some drop dead gorgeous twenty-something. "Do you need some help?"

  "No, I'm just trying to do some washing."

  She smiles at me. "There's a bin at the end of the foyer. Housekeeping does his laundry separately."

  My cheeks and ears burn at the knowing look in her eyes. "Thanks," I say, rushing past her and adding my items to the small pile of Lincoln's clothes that sit in a silver basket right where she said it would be.

  When I come back into the room, I see shopping bags lining the kitchen counter. Saks, Nordstrom, Macy's. "What is all this?" I ask her, conscious of my barely clothed state.

  "Oh, just consider me your fairy godmother," she says, a laugh in her bell-like voice.

  My eyebrows rise. "What?"

  "Just kidding. Lincoln sent me to get you some things. He told me about your unfortunate experience yesterday. Hope
fully I got the right sizes. He said you've got an event tonight?"

  "Um, a reunion with my sorority sisters."

  "Perfect. Why don't you try those things on and let me know how they fit?"

  I take the bags, dazed by the completely different world I've been dropped into. Does Linc really just send people out to shop for him? One bag is labeled La Perla and I gulp. I know how expensive that is, and I know what I'll find inside. Lingerie. There are a few pairs of shoes from Christian Louboutin and Manolo Blahnik as well. God, how much did this all cost?

  I pull out the clothes, a sleek black dress, a few silk tops, some skirts, and pants. Clara thought of everything. The items are all around my size, and I think they'll fit.

  "Everything okay in there?" Clara asks.

  "Yeah, great." I open the door and smile. "This is so... much."

  She waves her hand. "No, don't worry about that. Lincoln made it very clear that he wanted you to be taken care of, and I'm glad to see him so happy. He's never brought a woman up here. Not in all the years I've worked with him."

  I can't believe that. A man like him? There's no way he goes through life not getting laid every night. "I don't know what to say."

  "Just take the clothes, have a wonderful time, and keep making him smile like he did this morning when he popped into my office."

  I grin. "Thank you."

  Her answering smile is sweet with a hint of sadness. "I really thought he was going to be one of those men who refused to open up and let a woman see his heart. I'm so glad I was wrong."

  "How long have you known him?"

  "Oh, it's been fifteen years now. He came over from England and stayed in this hotel with his family. I was working in housekeeping. His family would come every year at Christmastime. His mother loved going to the tree lighting. After she passed they stopped coming, until one day—"

  "Wait, his mom died?" Shock curls in my gut as I ask the question.

  "It was so sad. She had an aggressive form of MS. Lincoln was always very close with her."

  "And you said they stopped coming here after?"

  "I didn't see Lincoln for five years. But then one day he showed up. The hotel owner had just announced he'd sold The Stanton. Of course, we all thought we'd lose our jobs. Instead, Lincoln walked in and changed my life."

  Prince Charming, indeed. The man is perfect.

  Clara clears her throat and wipes a tear from her eye. "Now, you need to get ready."

  I glance at the clock. It's barely noon. "I still have six hours."

  "So, that means you need to pamper yourself. Get dressed and I'll take you down to the spa. I'm thinking you need a massage, facial, mani/pedi, and then we'll go to the salon and get your hair blown out."

  My head spins. "What? I don't need all that."

  "Lincoln wants you to let go of all your worries today. In my book, that means a spa day where you're treated like the beautiful woman you are."

  I can't help my wide smile. I don't think I've ever been treated to anything as wonderful. I make my way to the bedroom and dress, thrilled with the fit of the clothes. A navy-blue polka-dot silk top with dark ankle length pants and Manolo flats complete my outfit. I feel put together, but I’m terrified I’ll ruin the clothes somehow.

  When I come back into the living room, Clara smiles. “There now, don’t you look lovely? Are you ready? I called down to the spa and they’ve found room for you.”

  “I guess so. It’s not like I have anything else going on. I don’t even have an ID.”

  “Follow me. When you’re all done, just scan this key and the elevator will take you straight back here.”

  She hands me a plastic key card, and I pocket it. Excitement builds in my chest. I want to look my best. In fact, I want to look amazing. These women I spent college with were my best frenemies. I loved spending time with them, but they also judged me harshly. They measured our success on how we looked, who we dated, and what we achieved. In that order. Walking into the bar with Lincoln on my arm will ease some of that stress.

  We get into the elevator, and all I can think about is what Lincoln will want to do when he gets home and sees me. Maybe I should model the lingerie for him? Maybe I'll extend my stay. But I can't do that. I have my family's farm to look after now that my dad is gone. That dark cloud comes in like a tornado. No. I won't let myself ruin this by thinking about my other obligations. I'm going to enjoy every moment of my time with Lincoln until I have to let him go.

  Chapter 8

  Lincoln

  The diamond ring in my hand glimmers in the light casting prisms of rainbow across the desk. My grandmother's ring, three carats, cushion cut, with a diamond encrusted band, has been sitting in a box in my closet since the day I turned eighteen. My mother entrusted it to me, explaining that my older brother would receive our father's mother's ring when he married, but me? I get her mother's. Now, it will slide onto Charity's finger and we'll pretend she's mine.

  "Clara," I call through the open door of my office.

  She pops her head through the doorway. "She's fine, Linc. I just called down to the spa. They've finished her body wrap and she's about to have a facial, then a break for lunch before her massage."

  "Right, brilliant." I love working with Clara. Hiring her away from housekeeping to be my executive assistant was one of the best decisions I ever made.

  It's been so damn hard not to go check on Charity. Clara had told me she was set up with the best package at our five-star spa, but I want so badly to go make sure she's enjoying herself, that it's not all too much for her. Instead, I send her lunch and a bouquet of peonies.

  "Lincoln Harper, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were already in love with that girl." Clara shakes her head, a cat who ate the cream grin on her face.

  "Besotted. Not in love."

  "Six up, half-a-dozen down, Linc. She's halfway in love with you already."

  My heart races at the thought. Charity. Can I see her in my life forever? Yes. It's insanity, but in fact, I can't picture anyone else. "It's just for the week, Clara. She has to go back to her life, I have to go on with mine."

  "What life do you have here? All you do is work. I haven't seen you so happy since before your mom died."

  That stings. We don't talk about Mum and Clara knows that.

  "Look, I'm sorry, but it's true. Your mum would want to see you happy."

  I shake it off, not willing to let thoughts of my mum make me sad. "I agree. I'm taking Charity to the wedding, happy?"

  She smirks. "Not yet. I'll be happy when I see a ring on her finger. You play your cards right and she'll be yours. I just know it."

  I nod and glance back at my computer, my signal I'm done with this conversation. Thankfully, she knows me well. Clara wanders back to her desk, shutting the door behind her.

  I work through lunch, desperate for the hours to pass faster. I just want to see Charity, touch her soft skin and kiss those lips I can't seem to get enough of. At some point in the day, Clara slides a sandwich across my desk and tells me if I don't eat, she'll call Charity in from her day of pampering.

  But then it's five o'clock, and I'm officially on vacation for the next five days. I'm about to dive headfirst into a lie I don't know if I can recover from. Charity means more to me than I expected.

  I open my door and step out of my office only to find Clara standing with a hand out. "What?" I ask.

  "Give me your work phone. Don't you dare take your laptop. I'm serious. I'll handle the hotel, and you enjoy yourself with that lovely girl."

  My chest tightens at the motherly tone Clara sometimes gives me. "And Ruby?"

  "Yes, I already told you, Ruby won't even know you're gone. I've got Charlie walking her twice a day, and I'll be checking in on her every few hours."

  She knows I'll fire anyone who mistreats Ruby. "I don't know. Ruby doesn't do well overnight."

  "Lincoln, listen to me. You haven't taken a vacation since you started here. I promise I'll take care of your dog. I
know how important she is to you."

  I blink hard, fighting the emotion welling up inside me. Ruby was mum's dog. She's the last thing I have of Mum. But I trust Clara. When I leave for the wedding, Ruby will be cared for.

  "Thanks, Clara," I say through a tight throat.

  "My pleasure, now go see to that beautiful woman. She'll be waiting for you."

  My chest tightens for a very different reason. I'm about to have Charity practically all to myself for the next few days. I offer Clara a wink and a nod as I hand her my work cell phone and head out of my office.

  Charity isn't there when I get to my flat. She's probably still having her hair done, and that's fine with me. I need to shower and change before we head to the reunion, and this gives me time. I've been dying to be inside her again but managed to control myself during the day. It's strange to feel such an intense need for her. I think about her constantly — to the point of distraction.

  She's left my shirt on the bed, but her clothes are gone and now all I see are bags from La Perla and Saks. My cock hardens at the thought of Charity in lacy knickers. A glance at the clock tells me I can't waste any time. We'll need to leave sooner rather than later. I undo my tie and toss it on the bed along with my shirt and trousers. In just my pants and socks, I head to the closet to grab something fitting for a night out with her. I settle on some dark jeans and a deep gray button-down shirt with a faint pattern in a monochromatic design.

  "Oh!" Charity's sweet voice catches me off guard and I turn to face her. She's standing in the doorway looking like a fucking model. Her long dark hair is shiny and straight, flowing over her shoulders until it curls at the tops of her breasts. And her clothes are immaculate—perfectly fitted and suited to her.

  "You look... fantastic," I say, stepping toward her.

  "Thanks. They did my makeup too."

  "You don't need it."

  Her cheeks turn pink and she bites her lower lip. "You look... like you need something." Her gaze drops to my dick, bulging in my boxers.