One Hot Fake: An Accidental Fake Marriage Romance

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I answer emails and schedule appointments as I sip my coffee. This used to be my favorite time of the day. Not anymore. A smile tugs at my lips as memories of how I woke up wash over me. It’s not a bad way to get ready to face the day.

  My body heats up, and I almost groaned aloud with fresh need. Declan is a walking temptation. Even thinking about him is enough to get my body aching for him.

  Chapter 16

  Marian

  “We have a new project that I want you to work on, Eric,” I say. “It’s out of town. Sorry.”

  Eric poises his fingers over his iPad. “It’s okay,” he says with a smile. That’s one of the things I love about my employees. They have the greatest attitudes, and nothing is too much work.

  “Whose wedding is it?” he says.

  I force a smile. “My mother’s.”

  Kimberly looks up from her iPad screen, as does Eric.

  “A shocker, I know. It came as a surprise to me too,” I say and wonder how much to tell them. Then I realize that even if I don’t, within minutes of Eric meeting my mother, she’ll have told him her whole life story.

  “She and my father divorced several years ago, and she’s met someone else. She’s determined to have the biggest wedding the town has ever seen,” I say.

  “I think it’s cool that she’s found someone else. Happiness should be grabbed with both hands,” Eric says.

  “You don’t know how lucky you are,” Kimberly says. “My parents got divorced too, but they still fight like cats in an alley.”

  We laugh. It wasn’t awkward at all, but there’s still the big elephant to address in the room.

  “So, you met my husband,” I tell them as we wind up the meeting. “I’m sure that was a surprise.”

  Eric grins. “You can say that again. I didn’t think you had it in you to do something so crazy. Did you even know him before?”

  It’s excruciating to tell that story again, but I comfort myself that there’s no one else I owe an explanation to.

  After the meeting, I check my to-do list for the day and start making calls to clients and vendors. An hour into it, my cell phone rings. I’m not surprised to see a call from my mom.

  She tears into me as soon as I pick up the call. “How can you do that to me, Marian? This wedding is special to me, and I want it to be a family affair.”

  “What is it, Mom?” I ask her even though I know the answer to that question.

  “You know what the matter is as well as I do,” she says and sniffs. I’m alarmed. As dramatic as she is, Mom is not an emotional person, so hearing her sounding like she had been crying shocks me into rethinking my decision.

  “Josh is here, and he wants to speak to you too,” Mom says.

  Josh comes on the phone. “Marian, I know it’s uncomfortable for you, but please do this one thing for your mother. She’s talked about it for months. How special her wedding day will be because her daughter, the gifted wedding planner, will arrange it.”

  My defenses are falling one at a time. Mom comes back on the phone.

  I let out a sigh. I’ve lost that battle. “Okay, Mom, I’ll do it. You don’t have to bring anyone else to the phone.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “Shall we get started now?”

  Goodness no. I can’t handle it now. I need some time to settle into the idea. “I’ll drive down sometime during the week.” As much as I hate the idea of going back to Arlen, I’ll have to at some point. Besides, I’ll want to meet with different vendors. My brain is abuzz with things that I’ll need to do. We say goodbye after agreeing that I’ll drive down on Thursday.

  My office phone rings as if it was waiting for the call with my mom to end. I pick it up.

  “Marian, this is Owen.” His voice has a tinge of panic.

  “Hi, Owen, what’s up?” I say.

  Owen and his bride are getting married in two months, and theirs is one of those weddings that I’ve marked off as difficult. The bride and the groom are lovely, but the groom’s parents are a nightmare. They want to control everything because they’re funding the wedding.

  “Has Chloe called you?” Owen says.

  “No, was she supposed to?” I say.

  He inhales deeply. “She wants to call off the wedding.”

  My blood goes cold. “Why?”

  “I’ve tried asking her, but she won’t tell me,” Owen says, sounding distraught. “Everyone has tried talking to her, but she won’t say anything.”

  “Do you want me to try and talk to her?” I ask him.

  His audible breath of relief comes down the phone. “Please,” he says.

  I call Chloe as soon as I’m done talking with Owen. She sounds as if she’s crying.

  “Where are you?” I ask her.

  Two minutes later, I grab my handbag and leave the office, cursing under my breath. I rarely leave the office in the mornings as that’s the time I use to do any admin work. But this is important.

  Chloe is at the park, and it takes me five minutes to drive there. The sun warms my skin as I stroll through the park, looking for her. I see her huddled on a bench, staring forlornly at the pond.

  “Hi,” I say as I join her on the bench.

  She gives me a weak smile. “Hi. I guess Owen called you.”

  It’s a statement rather than a question. “He did, and he said that you want to call off the wedding.”

  She nods and looks at me. Her hazel eyes are red and puffy. “I don’t think I deserve Owen. He’s such a good man. He deserves a better woman than me.”

  I’m relieved. This is normal wedding jitters, and it’s not the first time that I’ve had to soothe my brides. “He thinks otherwise,” I point out to her.

  We talk for almost an hour, and by the end of it, Chloe is back on track with the wedding plans, but I also slip her the number of a therapist. Her jitters are more intense than normal, and I suspect there might be a deeper reason for her insecurity.

  I return to the office and continue with my daily tasks.

  At lunchtime, Kimberly pokes her head into my office. “I’m going to get some sandwiches for lunch. Do you want one?”

  I order a grilled chicken sandwich and settle back to work. My mind wanders to Declan, and I wonder how his day is going. I take my cell phone to text him, then think otherwise. He might think I’m crossing the lines of our relationship.

  After lunch, I go downstairs for a dress fitting in the boutique. The bride and her party are already there, and after a flurry of greetings, we get started. I love watching Maggie in action. She has a motherly way about her that calms ruffled feathers and gets things moving simultaneously.

  I’m glad when the bride settles on a dress, and everyone is teary when she models it for us. The mother of the bride is the most emotional, and she and her daughter cling to each other. Moments such as these remind me why I love my job.

  The rest of the afternoon zips by, and at five on the dot, I’m the first to leave. I’m eager to see the new space and how much work has been done, or so I tell myself. My excitement has nothing to do with seeing Declan.

  Before driving off, I reapply my red lipstick and pull off the band holding my hair at the back of my head. I shake and tease it a bit, hoping that the resulting look is casual but sexy.

  I’m parked outside the bakery fifteen minutes later. The bakery sign has been removed. I leave the car and head to the glass doors, and try to peer in. I can’t see any activity, but Declan could be in the back office. I try the door, and it swings open. The sound of my heels clicking the tiled floor echoes in the expansive room.

  “Marian, is that you?” Declan calls from the back before he emerges seconds later.

  My heart swells when I see him, and I feel stupidly happy. He has a wide grin as well as he crosses the floor in large steps. He takes me into his arms and kisses me on the mouth, as lovers do, which I suppose we are.

  “You smell good enough to eat,” Declan says, his voice low and sexy.

  “Then eat me
,” I say without thinking. The words conjure up an image that immediately dampens my panties.

  “Easily arranged,” Declan says and breaks away. He strides to the door and turns the key.

  My breathing becomes quick and shallow. What is he planning? He walks back to me, a determined look on his face, and bends to slip his hands underneath my hips. Effortlessly, he lifts me.

  “Where are we going?” I laugh. I can’t remember the last time anyone carried me. I must have been a little girl.

  “A tour of the kitchen,” he said, his voice thick with the suggestion. “It’s almost done, and I’d like your opinion of the counters.”

  The laughter dies off in my mouth. We enter a room, but all I can see is the ceiling. Then gently, as if I’m as fragile as grass, he shifts me into an upright position and deposits me on the counter. I place my hands on either side to feel the granite tops.

  Declan places his hands on my hips and slowly pushes my skirt higher and higher until my red panties are exposed. His breathing grows heavy as his gaze drops to the swell of my pussy.

  His thumbs trace the edges of my panties. The feel of his hands on my skin nearly drives me mad.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this all day,” Declan says, his dark gaze on me.

  “Of what?” I ask.

  “Tasting you,” he says. “When you’re up here, opened up like a flower for me. “

  “Oh God,” I say, my insides trembling with need.

  He lowers his head and pushes my panties to one side, exposing my pussy. His tongue swipes over my slit, and I let out a cry of both pleasure and agony. I ache so badly that it’s almost like pain.

  I never thought a man could arouse such desperate desire in me in a matter of seconds. “More.” My tone is pleading.

  He pushes his head deeper and takes all of my pussy into his mouth as though he’s kissing it. Fuck. It’s the most erotic thing that has ever happened to me. A finger slides in, followed by another while Declan’s tongue teases my clit. I raise my hips to meet the thrusts of his fingers.

  “Yes, oh yes.” I don’t recognize my voice. A loud groan rises up my throat and fills the whole room.

  His tongue flicks my clit, and when it’s too much, I fall back against the wall. I’m so close I feel as if I’m tethering on the edge. His tongue is everywhere. I rock my lips and scream with every touch to my most sensitive bits. I bite down on my lip as an orgasm rocks me over and over again. My body shivers, and I whimper at the strength of emotions that come over me.

  Declan swipes my slit one more time as if to clean it up, and he arranges my panties back and pulls down my skirt.

  He looks up at me with a grin. “So, what do you think of the granite countertops?”

  “I think they’re the best in the market,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

  He helps me down, and I don’t fail to notice the tent he’s sporting at the front of his pants.

  Chapter 17

  Declan

  I stir the contents of the pot while Marian dices the tomatoes, and then I wash the lettuce.

  “Let me explain what I mean by a buzz. I have a feeling you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she says.

  I’m pretty old-fashioned when it comes to social media. As far as I’m concerned, if we make a good product, hire a PR company, people will come, and so far, it has worked in Santa Monica.

  “Creating a buzz is creating excitement about something, in this case, the launch of Did you say Pizza?” Marian says.

  I love listening to her talk. She’s got a beautiful throaty voice that’s like music to me.

  “The launch is a few weeks from now, right?” she asks, and I nod. “The idea is to create something like a countdown. By launch day, everyone is excited about the latest pizza joint on social media. I know you have a PR company, but this is different and long term. Does that make sense?”

  “Perfectly,” I say. “But I don’t have time to involve myself in social media.”

  “Of course, you don’t. That’s why you’ll need to hire a social media manager,” Marian says.

  “Is this the part where you offer to get me one?” I ask and flash her my most winning smile. It works.

  “Of course,” she says. “I already have someone in mind.”

  I know we’re not real, but I can’t help feeling a flush of pride when I think of Marian as my wife. She’s smart, funny, sexy … the list is endless.

  “I’m so excited. That new space is perfect for the pizza shop, and it kind of looks like the Santa Monica one,” Marian says.

  “It does,” I tell her. “It’s uncanny how identical the two spaces are.”

  With both of us in business, it’s easy to talk to Marian. Not to mention how easy she is on the eyes. Dinner is fun and certainly different than my usual, which is on the fly as I work late.

  “What drew you to the pizza business?” Marian asks as she bites and nibbles on some lettuce.

  I find myself following the movements of her mouth. “I love cooking, but I didn’t study for it.”

  “Why not?”

  That’s one conversation I’d like to skip, but I’m in a mellow mood due to the wine we are having with dinner. “Father would have gone ape shit at the thought of a son of his becoming a chef.”

  She frowns. “What’s wrong with being a chef?”

  “Nothing, but in my father’s world, it’s not a manly profession.” Memories come over me as I remember the day I told my parents that I wanted to be a chef. My father’s face became red with rage, and a torrent of angry, demeaning words had gushed out of his mouth.

  I hate that I didn’t fight for what I wanted like Ace usually did. I was the son who always did the right thing. The one who did as his parents wished until I realized what their game was. My parents rewarded good behavior with love and punished bad behavior by withdrawing love.

  “That’s crazy,” Marian says. A faraway look comes over her features. “I wasn’t close to my dad at all. He was always working, and when he wasn’t, my mom and I seemed to baffle him.”

  “I can imagine your stepmother,” I tell Marian. “She’s serious and stiff and lacks a sense of humor.”

  She giggles. “How did you know?”

  “Simple,” I tell her. “She’s the opposite of you.”

  A soft look comes over her features before it’s quickly replaced by a closed one. The one she wears when she’s backing out.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she says. “I’ll wash up.”

  “I’ll help,” I tell her cheerfully. There are parts of Marian’s personality that don’t make sense. Like why the thought of intimacy sends her scurrying away like a frightened rabbit.

  That ex-husband of hers must have pulled quite a number on her.

  We stand side by side at the sink and wash up. I feel her tension easing as I regale her with funny tales from the pizza shop.

  “Sort of like the email I got today,” she tells me. “The bride and the groom want me to write to NASA and ask if they can be married in space.”

  I laugh. “You love your job, don’t you?”

  “Meeting new people all the time, visiting gorgeous venues, then at the end of it, having a massive party and dancing the night away. What’s not to love?” she says.

  I burst out laughing. “I might just change careers and become a wedding planner.”

  “You’ll make a very handsome one,” she says, and when I turn to look at her, our gazes meet and hold.

  Attraction sizzles between us. I wipe my hands on my apron and slip my hands around her waist. She palms my chest and caresses me. I kiss her and capture her lower lip, and gently suck on it.

  Sweet sounds of pleasure escape her mouth. “Take me upstairs, Declan.”

  I take her hand and lead the way up the stairs. I take her to my room and shut the door behind us.

  “I felt guilty for the way I left you at the pizza shop,” she says, her voice tinged with laughter.

  “And how did you leave me?�
� I ask her as I pull the apron over my head.

  “Like this.” She cups my cock over my pants, and I gasp in surprise. The feel of her soft hand makes my cock throb and jerk.

  I make a strangled sound. “You can make a man embarrass himself.”

  She laughs softly.

  “Take off your clothes,” I tell her.

  She bats her eyelashes. “I like it when you’re bossy.” She makes a production out of removing her clothes.

  Mine are off in a flash, and I lie on the bed and watch the impromptu show. Marian pops the buttons open and shrugs out of her top, all the while humming and swaying her hips in a way that makes me itch to grab her.

  “Exquisite,” I murmur when she’s left in a bra and panties. She moves as if to come to bed. “Oh no, Finish the show.”

  Her cheeks color. That’s a first. I can’t remember seeing Marian blush. She unsnaps her bra and covers her breasts with her hands.

  “Hey, you’re teasing,” I tell her and wrap my hand around my cock to keep it from jerking.

  She smiles seductively, extends one hand to cover both breasts, and pulls down her panties. She covers her pussy with the other hand.

  “What do I get for showing?” she says.

  “A big cock filling you up,” I tell her. “Come here, you.”

  She laughs, drops her hands, and sashays toward me. She climbs on the bed and gets between my legs. “I’m needed here.” She extricates my hand from my cock and replaces it with her own.

  I fold my hands behind my head and close my eyes. Now, that is trust. A woman with her mouth on your cock, your hands put away, and your eyes shut.

  She takes my cock fully into her mouth, and in slow movements, she slides her mouth along the length of my cock. I open my eyes and reach out to hold her head. I love the noises she makes with her mouth. As if she’s eating a favorite meal.

  I rock into her mouth, unable to stay still. Her lips and tongue work their magic, and I feel myself close to coming.

  “I want to come inside you,” I tell her while nudging her away from my cock.

  “Yes, sir,” Marian says, her tone playful. “I want you on top,” she says as she lies on her back.