The Real Thing

by Paige Tyler

  The Real Thing

  By

  Paige Tyler

  ©2012 by Blushing Books® and Paige Tyler

  Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Paige Tyler

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

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  Tyler, Paige

  The Real Thing

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-804-2

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Bigstock and RomanceNovelCovers.com and Jimmy Thomas

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Other Bestselling books by Paige Tyler

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  Chapter One

  Raine Montgomery didn’t know how her career—or her life—had gotten so messed up.

  Two years ago, she’d been at the pinnacle of her career and on top of every A-list in Hollywood. She’d been sought after by every director, graced the cover of every major magazine and been on every nighttime talk show. Everyone wanted to be seen with her. She hadn’t been able to walk out of the house without fans and paparazzi dogging her every step.

  But then everything had changed. She wasn’t quite sure when, or even how it had happened, but somehow she’d fallen off the radar. There’d been no more photo shoots, no more interviews, and worst of all, no more calls from top directors. The only movie offers she got now were from directors no one had ever heard of, and probably never would. She’d officially become a has-been.

  Even now, driving along the curvy mountain roads in Northern California, Raine cringed as she remembered saying those words out loud to her manager Reginald Price a few months ago.

  “You’re not a has-been,” he’d insisted. “You’re just in a…slump.”

  She’d glared at him. “For two years?”

  “Okay. So, maybe it’s a deep slump. But we can fix it.”

  “And exactly how are we going to do that?” she’d demanded.

  Reginald had come up with the answer a week later—marriage to Cameron Kincade, an actor on everyone’s A-list.

  Raine had stared at him, mouth open in total shock. Cameron was a hot guy, but she’d only met him once and barely spoken a dozen words to him. “You’re joking, right?”

  The look Reginald had given her could almost be called sympathetic. “Raine, people aren’t interested in your acting credentials anymore. They want someone who’s buzzworthy.”

  She was still buzzworthy.

  “A high-profile boyfriend and an extravagant televised wedding will get you back in the spotlight,” her manager had insisted.

  Marry a man she didn’t love, much less know, simply to give her failing career a boost? There had to be a better way to resurrect it than that. But according to Reginald, there wasn’t

  “This is how everyone in Hollywood does it now,” he’d told her.

  “And Cameron’s okay with this?”

  “He’s fine with anything that keeps him in the tabloids.”

  Reginald had waited patiently while she tried to wrap her head around the whole thing.

  “If I agree—and I’m not saying I am—how would Cameron and I go about doing this?” she’d asked.

  “Well, you two will start officially seeing each other. You know, going to award shows, movie premieres and parties together. Then we’ll let it slip that you’ve been dating for a while and have finally decided to go public. Soon after that, we’ll announce your engagement and have a big, fancy wedding, which’ll be followed by public spats, then a tumultuous and protracted divorce. You won’t even have to sleep with him unless you want to.”

  Wow. Reginald had thought of everything. And because he’d never steered her wrong in the ten years he’d managed her career, she’d agreed to his crazy plan. It wasn’t as if she had a man in her life, anyway. And if she didn’t do something soon, she wouldn’t have much of a career, either.

  A few days later, her manager had met with Cameron Kincade’s to work out the details, and the next week, she and the actor had attended an awards show together.

  That had been several months ago. Since then, she and Cameron had been to every major Hollywood event together. As Reginald had predicted, you couldn’t find a scandal sheet or magazine anywhere that didn’t have their pictures plastered all over the front covers. Even Raine had to admit she and Cameron looked good together. With his blond, All-American good looks, he was the perfect complement for her. On the surface anyway. Behind closed doors, she didn’t think there were two people less-suited for each other. They had absolutely nothing in common, other than a driving need to be famous.

  Not that it mattered. She was getting what she wanted from the relationship—tons of publicity and multiple movie offers. She only
wished she could feel as excited about her upcoming nuptials.

  Growing up, she’d spent hours dreaming of what her wedding day would be like. And hers was going to be everything she had pictured right down to the beautiful white gown, the bouquet of white roses and the incredibly handsome man waiting for her at the altar. She just hadn’t imagined it would all be such a sham.

  Raine leaned forward in the driver’s seat of her BMW, her hands tightening on the steering wheel as she tried to find a road sign in the snow falling outside. The entrance to the spa had to be around here somewhere. It’d looked easy enough to find on the map on her iPhone, but she was used to having someone else drive her around most of the time. She hadn’t counted on the snow, either. Driving in the almost blizzard-like conditions was making her nervous, especially on these curvy mountain roads.

  Why the hell had she picked this weekend to go to her favorite spa? Because she’d had to get away from her life for a while or she was going to go crazy.

  She chanced a quick look at her purse on the seat beside her. Should she pull over and check the map on her iPhone again? Better not. If she did, she might get stuck in a snowdrift and never get out.

  Her hands hurt from gripping the wheel, and she flexed them without thinking. The car immediately started to slide.

  Crap!

  She clutched the wheel, trying to keep the BMW on the road, but the snow was already too deep. The small sports car careened in circles until it slid off the road and into a snow-filled ditch.

  Raine sat trembling, her hands locked on the wheel, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Pain was good, though, right? It meant she was alive.

  She slowly released her grip on the wheel, afraid if she moved too quickly, the car would suddenly start spinning again. She reached for her purse and dug out her iPhone. No signal.

  “Great,” she muttered.

  She shoved the phone back in her purse and sat back in the seat, considering her options. She could either sit in her car and wait for someone to come by, or she could try to dig herself out. The first option was way more appealing than the second. She hadn’t seen another living soul the entire time she’d been driving through the mountains, though, so there was no reason to think someone would come by now. Plus, the snow was so deep around the car someone could drive right by and never even see her.

  Raine pushed open her door, shivering at the blast of cold air that rushed into the car. Wishing she’d worn something more suitable than a short skirt and sandals, she pulled her lightweight jacket closer and stepped out into the snow. Digging herself out had seemed like a good idea when she’d been inside the warm car, but with nothing to do it with and the pile of snow covering most of the BMW, the task would be darn near impossible. Not to mention the fact she’d probably freeze to death trying.

  Telling herself the tears stinging her eyes were from the icy wind, she turned back to the car. She’d still be stuck, but at least she’d be warmer inside. As she reached for the door handle, a noise in the distance caught her attention. Was that an engine? She strained her ears to hear. The sound got closer and more distinct. It was an engine. From around the curve, she could see the glow of headlights. Thank God!

  Afraid the driver of the vehicle wouldn’t see her if she stayed where she was, Raine trudged through the calf-deep snow to the road, sandals sliding on the ice. Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet, and by the time the vehicle came around the bend, she was standing in the middle of the road waving her arms as if her life depended on it.

  Logan McBride swore under his breath. Where the hell had this blizzard come from? He’d checked the weather before leaving Seattle, and they said the snow wouldn’t hit the area until later that night. Obviously they’d been wrong. Big surprise. Then again, he’d gotten held up traffic around Tacoma, as well as Portland, which had probably slowed him down just enough. But with four-wheel drive, his Denali handled well in the snow, and having spent some time up in Alaska a few years back, he’d gotten a lot of experience driving in the stuff. Plus, he never came through the mountains at this time of year without tire chains, and he’d already stopped to put them on. Something like a little snowstorm sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him from getting to the one place in the world where he could clear his head—his cabin in the mountains of northern California. Maybe there, he’d figure out what the hell to do about the nosedive his career had taken.

  Okay, maybe “nosedive” was an exaggeration. But since he’d decided to start painting watercolors instead his usual oils, it had definitely derailed. People—including four well-respected art critics—had come to his recent show at the gallery in Seattle expecting one thing, and when they’d gotten another, they hadn’t been happy about it. He hadn’t sold one damn painting, much to the dismay of the gallery owner. While Evangeline had insisted she liked this new direction he was going in, she also suggested he take some time away to regain his focus and come up with some new paintings—this time in oils.

  He reached out to turn down the heater just as a flash of movement in the road caught his eye.

  “What the…?”

  Logan had just enough time to realize it was a person as he swerved to avoid hitting them.

  Shit.

  Despite four-wheel drive, the Denali went into a slide, sending him into a complete three-sixty before he came to a stop. He glanced in the rearview mirror, checking to see if the person was okay, but all he saw was falling snow. He hoped to God he hadn’t hit whoever it was.

  Swearing under his breath, Logan pushed open the door and stepped out onto the snowy road.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” a female voice demanded from behind him. “You could’ve hit me, you moron.”

  Logan turned to see a woman skidding to a stop in front of him. She caught herself, arms windmilling as she got her balance. He took in the short dress, light jacket and long blonde hair with a sweep of his gaze. He’d be damned. The fool woman was actually wearing freaking high heels in a blizzard. She might look sexy as hell in them, but she didn’t have a lick of sense when it came to clothes.

  “Me?” He snorted. “You were the one standing in the middle of the road like an idiot. You’re lucky I didn’t hit you. What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “My car slid off the road.” Her teeth chattered as she tugged her jacket closer. “I need help getting it out.”

  “Where is it?”

  She turned and headed in the opposite direction, her high heels slipping on the ice. Logan automatically reached out to steady her, but dropped his hand when she righted herself. He gaped at the small car half hidden beneath the rapidly falling snow.

  “You had that little sports car up here in the middle of a blizzard?”

  She nodded.

  He shook his head. Well, that was just about stupid. “That thing isn’t going anywhere. At least not until the snow lets up.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean? Can’t you just dig it out?”

  He snorted. “I’d have to do a hell of a lot more than dig it out. You’re high-centered on the snow bank. You’re not going anywhere.”

  She hugged her arms around herself. “Well, then pull it out with one of those winch things.”

  “My SUV isn’t a tow truck. It doesn’t have one of those winch things.”

  She scowled. “Well, it should.”

  “I’ll make sure to mention that the next time I talk to the execs at GMC.” That bit of sarcasm got him a baleful glare. “Look, if I don’t get back on the road soon, I’m going to be stuck in the snow, too.” He jerked his head at the Denali. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride to the nearest town. There’s a garage there. With the weather, you’ll probably have to wait a few hours for a tow, but at least there’s a convenience store nearby where you can stay warm.”

  The way she looked at him, you’d think he suggested they take off their clothes and make snow angels.

  “Or you could wait here for a tow truck to come along,” he added when she didn
’t say anything.

  She muttered something under her breath he couldn’t catch. “No. I’ll go with you. Let me get my purse.”

  Logan watched as she made her way across the slippery road toward the car. His mouth tightened as she almost fell. “Here. I’ll grab it for you. Get in my truck.”

  “My purse is on the front seat. And grab my weekender bag from the trunk, too, would you? Just in case I can’t get a tow tonight and need to stay in town,” she added when he lifted a brow.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her as he wiped the wet snow off the little car’s door with a gloved hand. “The town doesn’t have a hotel.”

  She gave him that same incredulous look again. “Well, they must have someplace for visitors to stay. A motel, or a bed and breakfast.”

  Logan almost laughed. The town they were going to was exactly one square mile in size. Besides the convenience store and garage he’d mentioned, it had a run-down gas station and an even more dilapidated bar, neither of which he could imagine Her Royal High-Heeled Highness going in. He wasn’t about to stand outside in the snow and argue with her, though.

  Grabbing her purse, he took the keys out of the ignition, then stomped through the snow to unlock the trunk. The “weekender bag” she’d asked him to get was more like a steamer trunk. The damn thing barely fit in the back. He swore under his breath as he hefted it out of the car. He felt sorry for the poor, unsuspecting tow truck driver who was going to have to put up with her.

  Raine almost told him she could get her bag herself, but thought better of it as she watched him trudge through the snow that surrounded her small car. Her feet were already numb, and the thought of thawing out in a heated truck was a lure too impossible to resist—even if it meant she had suffer the jerk’s company until they got to the town he mentioned.