by Eden Summers
“See?” He spread his arms wide in temptation. “I’m a mess without you.”
No, no, no, no. She wasn’t going to risk her job again. She wasn’t going to fall victim to temptation. To desire. To longing. She’d successfully suppressed that shit long ago.
“Can’t we just hug it out?” he asked, as if the question resembled, ‘Would you like ketchup on your fries?’ When in reality it hit her ears to the tune of, ‘Would you like a lobotomy with a side of disembowelment?’
“Hard pass.” She repeated Sean’s latest catch phrase to combat the burst of adrenaline scorching her veins.
“Why?” He chuckled. “I give the best hugs.”
He did. He really did.
“No, you don’t.” She screwed up her face to back up the lie. They were fast approaching ground zero and there was no way she could return to the destruction of her body against his. Not now. Not ever. “I need to pack.” She side-stepped. “Is that all—”
He grabbed her around the waist, his devastating grip tugging her into his chest in one fell swoop. Two seconds. That was all it took for her to go from struggling to manage her composure, to complete and utter devastation.
An apocalypse had nothing on this moment. And all she could do was stand there, her hands on his shoulders to keep herself vertical, while her heart went through a shredder at a snail’s pace. She mentally clung to her professionalism, not letting the platonic squeeze slip into fantasy territory.
“See. It’s not so bad,” he murmured into her hair.
Not bad? Really? She held her breath to fight a groan. “Ryan, I need to get started on my workload.”
“Is my erection making you uncomfortable?”
What. The. Fuck? She pushed him, her eyes wide, her jaw practically scraping the floor while every nerve in her body sizzled as if she’d been burned.
“I’m joking.” He snickered. “Too soon?”
“Yes, too soon.” She shoved at his chest. “Way too soon.”
He continued to laugh, the delicious mirth contagious. “The look on your face…”
“This look?” She pointed to her flaming cheeks, trying to contain a smile. “This is the look of a woman who never forgets.”
“Believe me, I know.” His eyes turned somber. “But it was worth it to see you smile.”
“I’m not smiling.” She kept her lips thin, the edges lifting without her permission. “And just remember that next time you ask for a hug and I refuse.”
Christ. She’d never felt more delirious. With one brief embrace he’d short-circuited her brain, rewired her pulsing nerves, and slaughtered her professionalism. She was in meltdown, and unfortunately her body was loving the destruction.
“Noted.” He inclined his head and backtracked toward the door. “Next time I won’t ask.”
Chapter Three
Ryan disconnected the call to Alana and scanned the lobby. Mitch’s wife was going to meet him in the restaurant in fifteen minutes, just enough time to find Felicity and get inside that mind of hers.
“Looking for me?” The Slicker singer came up behind him, matching his lazy stride across the reception area.
“I sure was.” He shot her a friendly smile, faking comradery because he had a feeling she needed all the support she could get. “We might get some privacy if we do this in the dining area.”
“Sure—”
Her response was cut off by a high-pitched squeal that had him swinging around to face the culprit.
“Ryan Bennett?” A blonde in her late teens rushed toward them, her curly hair bobbing with each step. “Can I get a picture? Please? Oh, god, I can’t believe it’s you.” She was bouncing on her toes, her eyes wide, her cell clutched in her hand.
“No problem.” He gave the approaching security guard a dismissive look and swung his arm wide to let the woman sink against his side.
“I can take the photo if you like.” Felicity held out her hand for the phone.
“No.” This was a perfect opportunity, one that would ease them into the charade. “Why don’t you get in here with us?” He gave her a pointed look and reached for her with his free arm. “Have you heard of Flick from Slicker?” he asked the fan.
“No.” Her mouth gaped. “Are you famous, too?”
Felicity chuckled. “Not nearly as famous as this guy.”
Her palm pressed against his chest, the warmth a comforting feeling after months spent in emotional isolation. He smiled at the camera, the click encapsulating the first moment in this crazy new nightmare as Felicity’s softness leaned into him.
“Thank you.” The woman beamed him a look of awe. “My mom won’t believe this.” She squealed again. “Neither will my friends.”
“Make sure you tag us on Twitter and we’ll share it around, then they’ll have to believe it.”
“Oh, I will. I’ll do it now.”
He kept Felicity at his side with a firm hand as the other woman became engrossed in her cell.
“Nice to meet you,” he murmured in farewell and started for the restaurant.
“Is it always like that?” Felicity was rigid, not an ounce of relaxation in her lithe body.
“Sometimes.” He didn’t want to point out the heavy presence of hotel security keeping them buffered from the crazies. “It’d be different if Mason was here. Blake, too. Panties seem to disintegrate when they’re around. No man, woman, or child is spared.”
She scoffed. “And you’re not a panty dropper?”
“Nah. I’ve been married for the duration of our success. I’m practically the decrepit uncle in the band hierarchy.”
“I don’t believe that for one second.”
Maybe she should, because from his point of view, this thing between them would run smoother if she knew his lack of seduction skills. She might be monopolizing the nervous-as-hell market at the moment, but he was the one likely to do something inappropriate, all in the name of cluelessness.
It didn’t help that Mitch, Blake, Mason, and Sean were his only knowledge base. He was pretty sure the tactics his friends used to score their women had nothing to do with gentlemanly wooing and everything to do with sexual prowess—a skill he wasn’t sure was still in his arsenal.
They strode into the restaurant, declined the lone waitress’s offer of service and helped themselves to a secluded table at the back of the room. The place was empty. Not a soul in sight.
“I don’t think the restaurant is open,” Felicity answered his unspoken question and sank into her chair. “It’s mid-afternoon. Right in the middle of lunch and dinner. I’m pretty sure the waitress should’ve turned us away, but there was that glazed gleam of recognition in her eyes.”
“It must be my lucky day.” He sat across from her, not sure whether he should be flirting to break the tension… Not sure how the hell he was supposed to flirt at all. “So, what’s bothering you most about this situation?”
She sighed and brushed the light wisps of hair back behind her ears. “Where do I start?”
“Wherever you want.”
She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the polished cutlery. “I have a lot at stake with this.”
“We all do.” He made sure his face matched the seriousness tightening his throat. “Not just me, but Reckless in general. All the wives of the bandmates, too.”
“True.” She sucked in a deep breath and slumped in her chair. “I guess the worst part is the humiliation that comes with acknowledging Slicker’s lack of success. And Scott…” She shuddered. “That man is a jerk. He’s taking pleasure in rubbing in our failure, and has made it perfectly clear I have no choice in this charade. Either I participate or there won’t be another album.”
Her reluctance made the situation ten times worse. He’d never forced himself on a woman before… Oh, wait… He guessed he had. And look how that situation panned out. “Making you miserable is going to kill me. But the harder we drive this home, the quicker our goals will be accomplished. Then we can part ways and pretend like t
his never happened.”
“You think it will be that easy?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “A few public appearances at romantic venues. A kiss here and there…” Her cringe pulled him up short, even though he hid the same reluctance deep inside his chest. “I’m not your type, am I?”
She laughed and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean the knee-jerk reaction. This is just happening a lot quicker than I expected.”
No biggie. It wasn’t like his ego hadn’t already been pulverized by his ex. He could take a few more hits before he was out for the count. At least he hoped so.
“Please don’t take it personally,” she continued. “You know you’re gorgeous. You’ve got the rugged appeal and those hypnotizing eyes. It doesn’t help that this is forced.”
He scrutinized her, from her cynical gaze to the droop of her pouty mouth. She wasn’t offering an ounce of enthusiasm. “This doesn’t leave me reassured for our success.” The happiness of the five most important people in his life relied on this woman and her delirious amounts of apathy.
“I’m not backing out.” Her lips parted and her already pale skin seeped of color. “Shit. I’m sorry. I was only complaining. I’m completely dedicated to this. I promise.”
Completely disgusted, humiliated, and freaking out at the mere thought of kissing him, but yeah, totally dedicated.
“How’s it all going?”
He relaxed at the familiar feminine voice and looked to his side to see Alana smiling bright, her camera bag resting over her shoulder.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He pushed back in his chair, thankful for the reprieve. “Alana, this is Flick, she’s the lead singer in our opening act.”
“Yeah, I know.” She gave him an incredulous look. “I’ve seen a performance or two. You’ve got a great voice.”
“Thank you. And I’ve heard you’re a mighty fine photographer.”
Alana blushed. “I sure hope so. It allows me the best job in the world.”
“Here, have my seat.” Ryan made to stand and was shoved back down by a surprisingly strong hand.
“If I need to sit, I’ll pull up another chair.” She placed her camera bag on the floor. “So… Do you have any ideas about how you want to do this?”
“I’ll leave that up to Flick.” He was already growing tired of being the positive force. If she had a long list of reservations and compounding moral issues, she could pick where they started.
“No, Ryan, you should make the decisions.” Felicity shook her head, her features still filled with apology. “I’m new to this, but I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
Jesus Christ, did she think he was a pro at media manipulation?
There was a pause as Alana glanced from him to Felicity and back again. “Can I suggest something?” she asked. “Eola Lake is right around the corner and would be the perfect setting. It would allow me to capture an image with a bit of distance to it. We don’t want to slap your fans in the face with something obvious. We want them to create a talking point, to question whether it’s really the two of you together. Because if they talk and argue online, it’ll give us a better chance to get this romance trending.”
“That’s brilliant.” Damn it. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
Alana blushed again. “It was actually Leah’s idea. She called me a few minutes ago and gave some suggestions.”
Of course she did. He’d tried to distance her from the drama set to drive a bigger wedge between them, but that woman was stubborn. She would force herself to the front line no matter what.
“I bet she picked out the perfect spot, too.”
“You know her well.” Alana grinned. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Ten minutes later, they were in a secluded area beside the water, Felicity’s back against the trunk of a wide tree as he leaned into her.
“How are you feeling?” His thigh was between her legs, his palm plastered beside her head. The position gave him whiplash. Days ago he’d been struggling to assimilate to single-status; now his body was entwined with a complete stranger, and he wasn’t enjoying that either.
“I’m perfect.”
He snorted. “Do you really think you can bullshit me?”
She wove her hand around his neck, the softness of her skin delicately brushing away his solitude. “Put up or shut up, right?”
That pretty much summed up their situation. “Yeah, but if I’m making you uncomfortable I want to know about it.”
“Nah.” She smiled, the first genuine curve of lips he’d received from her. “I’m settling into this like a pro.”
Thank Christ. Although he’d been used to a certain level of sterile disconnect in his marriage, he didn’t want to relive it with Felicity. One woman striving to make him feel inferior was enough for now.
“I need you to keep talking to me, though.” She tickled the back of his neck with her fingernails. “What do you do for fun?”
“There isn’t much fun flowing through these veins at the moment. I’ve got an ex who’s prepared to bleed me dry and a label determined to make my life hell.”
“And here I am, making it even more difficult.”
She placed her other palm on his cheek, stoking the emotion for Alana who was hiding somewhere in the distance with a lens pointed in their direction. They’d been instructed to act casual—loving yet playful. They didn’t want the pictures to have a sleazy vibe. Not yet. Apparently, the money shot was somewhere between flirtation and hot ‘n’ heavy.
“We’re through the worst of it.” He leaned in and winced when she stiffened. “I’m only going to nuzzle your cheek,” he whispered in her ear. “You can tell me to back off whenever you like.”
“I’m still good.” She lowered her hand to his waist. “Just warn me next time. I’m jumpy because the camera scrutiny is new to me. I don’t usually get this much attention.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“There’s nothing but honesty here.”
He still wasn’t convinced. Blake hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called her hot. Felicity had a non-stereotypical appeal. She wasn’t dainty with her heavy boots, black tight jeans, and the thick eye make-up which enhanced eerily bright eyes. She rocked her own set of rules with her harsh exterior, and leveled it with a soft interior which was poking his intrigue.
“But you smell really good.” She inhaled deeply. “Your aftershave is intoxicating.”
“Darlin’, you smell mighty fine yourself.”
She hit him with those baby blues. Hit him hard. “Thank you.”
There was a moment of silence, an awkward expanse of seconds where his heart panged for another woman. “Do you think Alana’s got enough by now?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled a face, an expression caught between humor and discomfort. “I still feel like the worst actress in the world.”
“You’re doing fine.” Too damn fine.
His cell rang in his pants pocket and he palmed the device to see Alana’s name staring back at him. “Hopefully this is good news.” He hit connect and lifted it to his ear.
“I have the best shot. You’re going to love it.”
“So we’re done?”
Felicity looked at him in hope.
“Yeah. You’re so done. This is absolutely perfect. You’re going to be breaking hearts all over again.”
He should’ve been relieved. Instead, his chest pounded with a rhythm of an entirely different beat. He didn’t want to be comfortable with Felicity. Falling into easy conversation and breaking personal space barriers within hours wasn’t an achievement. It was a liability. He was lonely. He was heartbroken. And this beautiful woman was smiling up at him, mimicking his apprehension in her own little way.
“OK. I’ll meet you at the hotel.” He disconnected the call and made to back away.
“Wait.” Felicity’s grip tightened around his neck. “Do you want to get this kissing thing over and done with?”
He froze.
“I can say, with complete honesty, that that’s the least enthusiastic proposition I’ve ever had.”
She jabbed at his chest in a way that sparked memories. It made him think of someone else, someone who had once smiled up at him with a similar playfulness in her eyes.
“Your poor defenseless ego,” she cooed. “But I’m not joking. I’m finally relaxed and I think we should get it out of the way. It’ll make it easier for when we need to do it in front of an audience.”
The logic was tight. Too bad every inch of him was in protest. He didn’t want to kiss her. He had major hang-ups. He had skeletons. He had a shitload of issues destined to multiply once his lips touched hers.
“Let’s leave it for now.” He stepped back. “Think on it. Fantasize about it. And when you’re at the point where you can’t take another breath without kissing me, then I’ll blow your mind with my skills.”
She threw her head back and laughed. It was a brilliant sound—loud and rambunctious. It wouldn’t be difficult to lean forward and give her what she wanted. To practice what they eventually had to do for show. But it wasn’t merely a performance for him. He’d only kissed two women since he was a teenager, and he was still undeniably in love with one of them.
Divorce or not, single or not, kissing Felicity would mark the first step in an unwanted direction. And unfortunately, it was inevitable.
“Come on.” He turned away and began walking for the hotel.
She was still chuckling when she lifted his arm and snuggled into his side. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
He looked down at her, at the gorgeous face, the easy smile, the enticing body. “Yeah. Me, too.”
That was the problem.
Chapter Four
Atlanta, Georgia.
Ryan slumped into the sofa and placed his cell down on the coffee table. He was supposed to be somewhere. With someone. But he couldn’t think. Couldn’t move past the feeling of his life being tipped upside down and all the goodness shaken out.
Back in Orlando, Rockin’ Gossip had snapped up the opportunity to share the exclusive photos of him and Felicity. Hours later, his world was under a microscope. The Internet had been smothered with the image of him smiling down at his ‘newfound love.’ And the happy snap taken in the hotel lobby—the selfie with the young woman—was all the evidence Reckless fans needed to lose their minds over the relationship story.