Temporary Wife (Episode 2)

by St. James, Rossi

  Temporary

  Wife

  Episode Two

  ROSSI ST. JAMES

  COPYRIGHT 2015 ROSSI ST JAMES

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  DEDICATION

  To fans of hopeless romantic comedies from the late nineties – this one’s for you!

  Rossi

  OTHER BOOKS BY ROSSI ST JAMES

  Biker Stepbrother 1

  Biker Stepbrother 2

  Biker Stepbrother 3

  CRAVED (By the Alpha Billionaire #1

  CLAIMED (By the Alpha Billionaire #2)

  CHERISHED (By the Alpha Billionaire #3)

  STEP SCANDAL 1, 2, 3

  TEMPORARY WIFE - Episode One

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  DESCRIPTION

  We’re doing this. We’re faking a marriage. He’s going to pretend like he loves every little thing about me, and I’m going to pretend like the butterflies that swirl around in my stomach when he looks at me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to him aren’t real.

  This is only pretend right? And it’s only temporary. Come Sunday morning, my Cinderella slippers come off and I’m back to being regular old Odessa. Never mind the fact that these last few days have been some of the best ones of my entire life.

  Everything’s going so well – almost too well – until I find out who he really is.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PREVIEW – CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE

  ONE - ODESSA

  I kicked off my heels and scuffed across the hotel carpet. My belly should’ve been fuller than it was, but I couldn’t eat a thing around those two for fear I’d throw it right up each time they kissed.

  Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for Derek. He deserved to be happy. And they appeared to be very much in love. But it didn’t make me love him any less. It didn’t stop the pain from wrapping its unforgiving fingers around my heart and squeezing it until I begged for mercy.

  I checked my phone for the millionth time that night. Lincoln still hadn’t responded.

  Figures. Typical asshole. I should’ve known.

  I sat it on the nightstand and peeled off my clothes for the day, slipping into a silk camisole and matching pajama bottoms before climbing into the covers. The following day, Thursday, was going to be my day with Derek. No Charlotte. Just us. We were going to walk around the Navy Pier and get lunch. Catch up.

  Friday night was the rehearsal dinner and Saturday at two o’clock sharp was the big moment. Sand fell through the hourglass at breakneck speed. Each second that ticked by was another second closer to Derek slowly phasing himself out of my life for good.

  It wouldn’t be intentional, of course. He wasn’t like that. But I’d seen it happen with my other married friends. You get married and your responsibilities change. Your priorities shift. Friendships fall to the wayside as marital and family obligations take precedence over other commitments. And then comes the baby. And sometimes another. And another. And then your friendship is reduced to a Christmas card and the occasional random phone call if you’re lucky.

  I was going to cherish our day together more than he’d ever know.

  I tossed and turned under the cool, white sheets. The bed was covered in a multitude of varying pillows, but I tried them all. None felt right. I never did sleep well in other places anyway.

  Two buzzes from the nightstand jerked my attention toward my phone, which appeared to have lit up from a new text message.

  ARE YOU AWAKE?

  It was Lincoln. I fired back a message letting him know I was very much awake.

  WHERE ARE YOU STAYING?

  WALDORF ASTORIA. YOU?

  SAME. WANT SOME COMPANY?

  My hands slicked through my long dark hair as a smile claimed my mouth the way his lips did earlier. All encompassing and unapologetic.

  In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about Derek or Charlotte or the big day, and I’d forgotten how nice it felt to live in the moment for once. That’s what Lincoln was doing to me – forcing me to live in the present. I didn’t have to worry about impressing him. I didn’t have to worry about where this was headed or whether or not he really liked me. All I had to do was have fun with him.

  I texted him my room number and flew out of bed to do some minor freshening up before I saw him again. I twisted my hair into a top knot above my head and secured it with a rubber band before brushing my teeth and slicking on a hint of raspberry lip glaze. Two seconds later, a rap at my door forced my heart up into my mouth.

  I never thought playing “house” at this age could be so fun. I whipped the door open and flung my arms wide open, and in the most dramatic tone I exclaimed, “My darling husband, I’m so happy to see you!”

  Only it wasn’t my pretend husband. It was room service.

  “Oh, my God,” I gasped, slinking back behind the door. A man a few years my junior stood in a uniform holding a bucket of ice and a bottle of Moet and Chandon. “Champagne?”

  “It’s a gift,” he said. “Another guest had it sent to this room.”

  Lincoln.

  “Thank you,” I graciously accepted the gift and shut the door. “Champagne? Really?”

  A minute later, another knock at the door drew me to the peephole. This time, I was checking before I made a fool of myself.

  TWO – LINCOLN

  “Good evening, Mrs. Avery,” I said as she pulled the door open. “Did you get the gift I sent?”

  “I did,” she said with an heir of curiosity in her eyes as she stifled her smile. “Can I ask why we’re drinking champagne tonight?”

  “We’re celebrating,” I said.

  “Celebrating what?”

  “Our marriage,” I said. I brushed her up against the wall, smiling as she looked up at me through long, dark lashes. Her breath hitched, though she tried to act like I didn’t excite her.

  “If you’re expecting us to consummate this fake marriage, I’m afraid you’ve misjudged my character,” she said, her electric blue eyes flashing as if to challenge me. My lips curled into a smirk.

  “You’ve got me all wrong, Blue Eyes.” My jaw set. My entire life I’d been used to people assuming I was a womanizing man whore thanks to the Crazy College Chicks video I was so well known for, but I wasn’t that guy. Not anymore.

  She slinked away from me and took a seat on the edge of the kind sized bed in her suite.

  “I simply wanted to get to know you better,” I said. “We can only improvise so much.”

  “Fair,” she said, scooting back on the bed and sitting cross-legged as I popped the cork on the champagne. I filled two plastic cups halfway with the fizzing gold liquid and handed one to her. “Chin, chin.” She tipped the cup back and swallowed her drink, wiping the corner of her bee-stung lips with her pinky when she was finished. “Congratulations, Lincoln,” sh
e said. “You’ve got yourself a wife for the next three days.”

  Her fuckable mouth was the color of raspberry jam, and it took everything I had not to pounce on her right then and there and claim them as mine once again. But I didn’t want to scare her away. I was doing her a favor, and though she didn’t realize it, she was doing me one too.

  She patted the bed next to her and silently beckoned me to have a seat. I tossed back the champagne and climbed across the bed toward her. She smelled like flowers and soft musk, like a sensual mystery waiting to be solved. And the fact that there weren’t money bags in her eyes when she looked at me was a huge plus.

  “You don’t throw yourself at me,” I mused.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Most women, when they realize who I am, they get this look in their eyes,” he said. “This crazy, animalistic look. You don’t have that.”

  Either she was cool as fuck or she really was head over heels for that imbecile.

  “I don’t throw myself at anyone,” she said, sitting up and holding her shoulders back. “It’s really not my style.”

  “Obviously.”

  She punched me on the shoulder, the first time we’d touched since earlier on the airplane.

  “So tell me about yourself,” she said. “Believe it or not, I didn’t Google your Wiki page earlier.”

  A huff passed through my lips. I loved how honest she was. It was refreshing actually. “I’m twenty-nine years old. My dad was a doctor and my mother was a pharmacist. I was expected to go into the medical field as well, but I could never quite pass chemistry. I dropped out of college my junior year after a life changing spring break trip to South Padre, and that’s when the whole Crazy College Chicks empire began.”

  “Your parents must’ve been so proud,” she teased.

  “You know your fake in-laws well,” I said before continuing, “After the videos took off, I finished my degree just to prove my parents wrong about me, though I switched my major to Film, which was more suited to my skillset anyway, and went on to form Avery Enterprises. The rest is boring, actually. And you can find it all on my Wikipedia page.”

  “That’s you on paper,” she said. “But tell me about the real you. Tell me why I allegedly fell in love with you…”

  “You fell in love with me because,” I said, drawing in a deep breath as I thought long and hard about it. The truth was, I’d only ever been truly loved once before. And I treated her like shit. Not on purpose. I wasn’t like that. I was just too focused on work to make us a priority. And now she was gone. Forever. Some other asshole was making her happy now. I tried to think about the girl who stole my heart and why the hell she ever gave me a chance. “You love me because I’m real. I’m genuine. I’m a straight shooter, much like yourself. You love me because I put up with your bullshit and you tolerate mine. You love me because you don’t need me to complete you, but I make your life better anyway.”

  Her lips parted halfway, as if she wanted to say something and then stopped herself. Odessa’s fingers drummed against her leg. “Wow. Um. That was…wow. I expected a more superficial response, like I love how you send me flowers every Friday or how you took me on a surprise vacation to New York last Christmas.”

  “Tell me why I fell in love with you,” I said.

  She batted her pretty blue eyes and smiled, as if she were suddenly embarrassed to talk herself up. “I’m far from the woman of most guys’ dreams, but like you, I’m ambitious and determined, and I love my job. I guess that’s my problem, isn’t it? I’m too in love with my job to give a fuck about my personal life. No wonder nobody wants to date me…”

  She rambled on and on, turning what could have been cute conversation into Bash Odessa Time.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I reached out and grabbed her wrists. “What are you doing? Why are you going off on yourself like this? You took my question and ran with it in the wrong direction…”

  “Sorry,” she said. “My mind never shuts off. I start thinking about one thing and then it turns into something else. But to answer your question, I don’t know why you fake fell in love with me. To be honest, I don’t deserve some fancy, billionaire husband. And now I’m starting to think no one’s going to believe me.”

  “It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t love herself,” I said, treading carefully with my words. “Maybe that’s why you don’t date?”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil.” She rolled her eyes and fell back against a backdrop of fluffy white pillows as she released a long sigh. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

  “We’re doing this,” I said. “I’m committed. I’m in this. And you were too until just now. I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but I need you back in this game. I need you on my team.”

  She sat up, her eyes washing over me. “Why do you want to help me so bad? You don’t owe me anything.”

  I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. She wouldn’t understand. It wouldn’t sound right.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to do something crazy?” I asked. “Step out of your comfort zone for a change? Challenge yourself?”

  “I really hadn’t given it much thought,” she said, her voice growing coy as she slinked her shoulders inward. “But I did like that kiss on the plane. That was adventurous.”

  I needed to kiss her again, and the fact that she liked the first one was like a green light for the inevitable.

  “How about another?” I asked, inching closer toward her waiting mouth. “In case you’ve forgotten what it feels like to live outside the box.”

  She nodded, pursing her lips as she swallowed. My hands raised up to her pretty face, cupping the sides of it as I leaned in and claimed her mouth once more. Raspberry and mint mixed on my tongue as I breathed in her sweet scent. A soft sigh escaped her lips as we separated.

  “When you kiss me like that,” she said, “it makes my mind quiet.”

  “Then I should keep kissing you,” I said, leaning in once more. I crawled over top of her, lowering myself over her body and slipping my hands behind her head as I tasted her sweet lips. The truth was, she quieted my mind too. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  I reached over and clicked the lamp off by the bed and let the dark of the night envelop us. We lived that moment one tantalizing second at a time. Our sanities depended on it.

  THREE – ODESSA

  He left sometime around two in the morning and went back to his room. He thought I was sleeping, but I was wide awake. I massaged my jaw the second he was gone. We’d made out for somewhere in the neighborhood of three hours.

  Three whole hours. Without stopping!

  We were like a couple of hormonal teenagers, and although I was slightly offended that he didn’t so much as attempt to stick his hand down my pants, I was also slightly relieved. He wasn’t a scum bag. I could trust him. A true man whore would’ve had me stripped and naked in 3.5 seconds.

  Lincoln was a gentleman. A gentleman who made out with complete strangers he met on airplanes, but still. A gentleman by today’s standards.

  I could totally pretend he was my husband for three days. I was born to play that role. I’d play that role like a goddamned fiddle.

  I rolled back over and forced myself to go to sleep, though my mind was still reeling as it replayed our make out session. With my face buried in my pillow, I fell asleep. But I wasn’t expecting to wake up with a smile on my face.

  My alarm went off at seven, and I hopped into the tiled shower of my hotel suite and got ready. Derek was picking me up for breakfast in an hour, and then we were going down to the pier. As I stared at my reflection as I readied myself, I realized I hadn’t thought about him since the second Lincoln walked into my room the night before.

  Maybe I wasn’t as pathetic and broken as I thought I was? Maybe it was possible for me to move on and be genuinely happy for Derek and Charlotte. They say everything happens for a reason. Maybe there was a reason Lincoln and I were placed together on that fated flight?

  “Lincoln,�
�� I sighed as my lips curled into a smile. I loved how effortless his name escaped from my lips, as if it were suddenly my new favorite word. My jaw still hurt from last night, and my normally full lips were slightly swollen still. It was worth it though. I finished getting ready just in time to receive a text from Derek telling me he was downstairs in the lobby.

  ***

  “Hey, hey,” he said, his face lighting up the second he saw me. He flew toward me once again, wrapping me up in his arms and spinning me in a circle as if he hadn’t just done that very same move the night before. “You ready for a fun-filled day with yours truly?”

  “Just like told times,” I gushed as I followed him out to his Jeep. I climbed into the seat Charlotte had occupied the night before, instantly feeling sick to my stomach as the memories of their lovey-dovey kisses and sweet nothings flooded my mind. I forced those invading thoughts to the side as I thought about Lincoln. My “husband”. I had to figure out a way to tell Derek. I’d have to work it into the conversation, but it’d have to feel natural.

  Glancing down at my left hand, I realized I didn’t have a ring. I fired off a quick text to Lincoln about how he needed to stop and get us wedding rings, telling him I’d prefer a canary yellow solitaire no smaller than five carats. I was kidding of course.

  “So what’s the plan today, D?” I asked.

  “Thought we’d go hit a few at the driving range?” he said. “I brought my mom’s clubs for you. Just like old times.”

  God, I hated golf. But I always golfed with him because that’s what he loved to do. And in return, he’d usually see a chick flick with me or take me to a new restaurant I wanted to try even though he preferred to stick to his select favorites where he’d order the same exact dishes every time.