by Early, Mora
Twisted Arrangement
Vol 4
By
Mora Early
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Sexy Read Suitable for Readers over the age of 18
Copyright © 2013 Mora Early
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 ~ Strictly Business
Chapter 2 ~ Save a Chevy
Chapter 3 ~ Arrogant Sock Puppet
Chapter 4 ~ Confessions in the Dark
Chapter 5 ~ The Night Before, The Morning After
Chapter 6 ~ Epic Han & Leia Stuff
Chapter 7 ~ The Ransler Problem
Chapter 8 ~ Complications
Chapter 9 ~ Revelations
Chapter 10 ~ Fake Relationships
~ Epilogue: Surprises ~
From the Author: (With a *Special Surprise*)
Chapter 1 ~ Strictly Business
“Wow. That was incredible.”
Josh’s deep voice washed over Emma like a warm rain, trickling over her nerve endings and dripping into every cell. She gritted her teeth against the fresh tingle of sensation that raced down her spine. It was too much. All it took was a few words from him and her whole body went soft and warm.
Damn him.
Emma stared across the dining table at her pseudo-husband and tried not to glare. It would ruin the image of loving couple having friends over for dinner that they were trying to portray for Max Chartrand, Josh’s location scout, and her girlfriend Steph.
It had been two days. Two days since they’d had the faux ceremony in an actual church with a real priest and real guests who all thought Josh and Emma were married for real. Which was, of course, the point.
Two days since Josh’s scheme to convince A-list star William Ransler that he was a dedicated one-woman man had begun in earnest. Two days since their fateful ‘wedding night’. Two days since she’d found out exactly what it was like to be in Josh Owens’ bed.
It had been incredible. Beyond incredible. Fantastic, amazing, mind-blowing, brain-melting, heart-pounding, toe-curling, bone-liquefying, multi-orgasmic. Heaven. Nirvana. Josh had used his whole body to make her feel good and lord had he succeeded. Gold star for Mr. Owens.
And it could never happen again.
She’d seen the confusion in his eyes the next morning in the kitchen, when she’d told him they could never have sex again. They had to keep their arrangement strictly business. Before he’d gotten nasty, his initial reaction had been perplexity.
Emma couldn’t explain, not to him. Telling Josh why she had to put space between them would negate the whole point of creating space.
I woke up tangled in you and for just a second I forgot this was all a trick.
A trick on William Ransler, for the time being. But if Emma wasn’t careful, it could end up being a trick on her as well. Now that she’d let him inside her body, her traitorous heart had weakened.
Josh had been wrapped around her like a vine. She’d blinked open gritty eyes on that first morning as a supposedly married woman, after only a few hours of sleep, and realized she could hardly move.
She’d let her eyes drift shut and lain for several moments just feeling everywhere their naked bodies touched. Emma lay on her side, cheek pillowed on Josh’s bicep. Her left hand was tucked beneath his bent elbow. His fingers were tangled in her hair.
His chin rested on her temple, his soft exhalations ruffling the fine hairs on her cheek. His body was curved around her back, the soft mass of his flaccid cock tucked against her rear, his knees pressing into the backs of her thighs. His right arm was looped around her waist, fingers entwined with hers and tucked neatly against the curve of her hip. His gold furred calves and long feet were twined with hers.
Josh was warm and hard and wonderful against her. She’d shifted slightly in his grip, her bladder uncomfortably full, and he’d murmured a garbled ‘Emma’ in his sleep, followed by a pleased-sounding ‘mmm’. His lips had brushed over her ear, his hips had pressed briefly against her ass.
And then her heart had given a soft flutter and Emma had nearly snatched herself bald leaping out of his embrace. Her scalp still ached in remembered pain. Josh’s fingers had really been wound tightly in the mass of her hair, which she’d forgotten in her frantic scramble from their not-quite-marital bed.
For just one horrified moment, when the pull on her hair had nearly yanked her off her feet, Emma had thought that Josh had woken and was trying to catch her back. She’d whimpered. She’d forced herself to pull away from him. Because that traitorous flutter was bad news.
Josh Owens didn’t trust her. He sure as hell didn’t love her. And this wasn’t really their wedding night. It was all a scam. He might want her body – a whole heck of a lot, judging by his behavior – and he may need her for the time being, but that was the extent of his feelings for her. She’d be an idiot to forget that.
Emma had to remember that it was all an act. She was playing a part. She couldn’t lose herself in it and forget that she meant nothing more to Josh Owens than a means to an end. Whether that end was Ransler in his film or a whole lot of screaming orgasms.
Well, okay he hadn’t screamed. She had. Or more like yelled. Christ, the whole house had probably heard her! There had still been guests downstairs when Josh hauled her up here to debauch her in ways she hadn’t been aware were legitimate and viable positions until that night.
Emma shook herself, wrapped herself in a robe she found draped over a chair and scurried out of Josh’s bedroom toward the room where she’d left the bag Suzanne had collected for her. She hadn’t been able to resist a single look back. And like Lot’s wife, that one look had changed her. But Emma didn’t turn into a pillar of salt.
No, instead she’d turned into a quivering puddle of need, so pure and primal that two days later she was still more liquid than solid.
Josh had been sprawled across that big bed like a delicious work of art. He’d rolled partway onto his back when she’d gotten up, and the soft light of the last flickering candle, plus the small bit of daylight beginning to seep into the morning sky, caressed his golden skin.
He’d flung one arm above his head, revealing the strong line of his triceps and the tuft of blond hair at his armpit. His other hand rested on his muscled belly, just above his bellybutton. The broad expanse of his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. One leg was straight, the other bent, the covers pulled taut over the bulge of his cock.
But it was his face that had hit her with a sucker punch of longing. Turned toward her, relaxed in sleep, his handsome features looked even more gorgeous. The rumpled, slightly curly mass of his silky blond hair, the smooth curve of his forehead, the slash of his honey blond brows. The long, straight line of his nose drew her eye lovingly over the high cheekbone and along the strong jaw and square chin to rest happily on the sensuous curves of his lips, slightly
parted in sleep.
His lashes, slightly darker than the hair on his head, curled against his cheekbones, which were stained with the faintest shadow of stubble. He looked like an exquisitely carnal angel, sent down to her from a very loving God. Emma had wanted to crawl back into that bed and wrap herself around him, kiss him and touch him, take him inside her and never let him go.
Instead, she’d forced herself up the stairs to the small, tastefully appointed guest room she’d selected as her own. She’d showered, clenching her jaw against the wave of disappointment that swamped her at the idea of washing Josh’s scent from her skin, and dressed.
Emma had forced herself to give him the ultimatum, too. No more sex. She’d hold up her end of the bargain, but they couldn’t ever again be like they had been that night. Despite what every cell in her body cried out for. It was too dangerous. He was too dangerous. Her heart was absolutely not permitted to get involved.
This was strictly business.
Which is why she curved her lips upward into a pleased smile now and reached across the table to squeeze Josh’s hand.
“I’m glad you liked it, sweetheart.”
From the corner of her eye, Emma saw the wink that Max threw her girlfriend Steph. Steph nudged Max back with her shoulder. Both women were clearly amused at the interaction between Emma and Josh. Not in a disbelieving way, exactly. Or, only a little. It was clear they were happy for what they perceived as their friend’s good fortune.
“How about some dessert?” Steph grinned, clapping her hands. “I brought pike!”
“Pike?” Emma frowned. “Isn’t that a fish?”
Josh, Max, and Steph all laughed. Emma felt heat sting her cheeks. Josh’s fingers brushed her skin and she had to lock down her muscles to keep from either flinching away or rubbing against him like a cat.
“It’s this amazing dessert Steph makes. A mixture of pie and cake. It’s a pie crust with cake layers and pie filling and cake topping and don’t even attempt to contemplate it. Just enjoy.”
Emma watched dubiously as Steph cut into the dessert. She had to admit, it smelled delicious. Emma smelled chocolate and cinnamon and cherries. When Max set the plate in front of her, she cut a small piece with her fork and lifted it gingerly to her lips.
“Oh my god,” she groaned around the small forkful of moist, delicious pike. The pie crust was light and flaky, the cake was chocolate, the filling was cherries and the topping was fudge. Emma’s taste buds felt like they might be clapping. “This is amazing, Steph!”
The other woman beamed, her wide smile slightly crooked and very pleased. Josh accepted his plate from Max with a murmur of thanks, digging in with his fork before he’d even set it all the way on the table.
“I told you it was good.” Josh’s smile was smug as he lifted his own fork to his mouth.
The chocolate cherry deliciousness melted on Emma’s tongue, but she hardly noticed. She was too intent on Josh’s sculpted lips and the smear of chocolate on the lower one. His tongue darted out to swipe it away and Emma groaned out loud.
Josh quirked a brow at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. Heat burned in Emma’s cheeks as she lifted another bite on her fork.
“You were right,” she replied, dropping her gaze. “It’s delicious.” She shoved the dessert between her lips, barely tasting it.
There was no way she was going to make it through the next four months with her sanity intact.
***
“Are you planning on holding an open casting for Emily, or do you already have someone lined up?” Emma stood in the doorway to Josh’s office, one shoulder against the doorjamb, frowning down at her iPad.
She was dressed casually in a loose-knit grey sweater and black linen pants, and her feet were bare. Emma apparently hated to wear shoes around the house. Her toenails were painted lime green today. Josh took in the messy bun on her head, where he could see a pen and two pencils sticking out, and the mug of coffee – or more likely mocha – in her left hand.
He cleared his throat, sliding his gaze back down to the papers on his desk and away from the tempting visual of his pretend bride. “An open call. We had someone, but she had a scheduling conflict. And Morse likes to work with unknown actors when it comes to portraying actual people, so the actor doesn’t overshadow the roll.”
Emma nodded without looking up, strolling farther into the room. She absently handed him the mug, which was indeed mocha, and completely full. “That makes sense to me. Unless you’re talking about a Daniel Day-Lewis as Lincoln situation, but that’s the exception, I think. He’s like William, disappearing into his roles.”
Josh stared down at the rich brown liquid in the mug. She’d taken to making mocha every morning now, since they both enjoyed drinking it, and she always poured him a cup. But this, bringing it to him while he worked alone in his office, this was new.
And she still hadn’t raised her eyes from whatever she was watching on her tablet.
“Why do you ask?” Emily Dickinson only had a small role in the film, since it focused primarily on Thomas Wentworth Higginson’s abolitionist endeavors and not his relationship with the famous poet. But it was still a fairly important casting. It was Emily Dickinson, after all.
“I think you should take a look at this girl.” Emma finally looked up at him, though her expression was distant and contemplative, brows slightly furrowed as she handed over the iPad. She had a video pulled up, paused.
It was a period drama from the BBC, Fingersmith. Josh vaguely remembered seeing it years ago, but couldn’t recall what it was about. “Which girl?” There were several young, dark-haired girls in the paused image.
Emma perched on the edge of the chair opposite him, leaned over, and tapped the iPad’s screen to start the video. “Not the two main girls talking there. Check out the little maid in the background. She only has a small part but... well, watch.” Emma waved her hand.
Josh watched the scene unfold, concentrating hard on ignoring Emma as she leaned back in the chair and propped her naked feet up on his desk. The soles of a woman’s feet, pink and bare, shouldn’t be sexy. But Emma’s were. He could too easily recall the glide of her sole against his shoulder, the feel of her toes curling into his back as he’d run his tongue repeatedly over her clit.
“Do you think she’s good?” Emma bit her thumbnail. Josh shifted on his seat. His cock was hard again. He’d have to take another cold shower. Make that number four – or was it five? – of his pseudo-married life.
“She definitely has a way about her.” He’d barely noticed the actress, to tell the truth. But she looked about right and her slightly round face was very expressive. “Do you know her name?” He handed Emma back the iPad.
Her fingers flew over the computer’s screen. “Her name actually is Emilie. She’s French-Canadian. Most of her credits are from the BBC. She’s been acting on and off since she was a kid, but never done anything really big. Yet.”
“Well, send me her info and I’ll pass it on to Jess.”
Emma tipped her head, looking up at him through her lashes. Josh knew it was because her attention was divided between him and whatever she was doing on her tablet, but the look still hit him like a physical blow to the solar plexus.
“Jess is your casting director?” A soft ping sounded from the iPad. “I emailed you a link to her IMDB Pro page, along with a few YouTube clips.”
“Jess and Riki. I’ll take a look and then send them down the line.” Josh had known Jess since he’d first come to Hollywood as a totally green kid. They’d worked together dozens of times. Riki was her new business partner, an enthusiastic go-getter who had instantly impressed him. “They’ll make sure Emilie gets a call.”
Emma nodded, slapped her hand briefly against her thigh, and popped to her feet. “Okay then. I don’t know anything about casting movies, so she may not work at all, but I was watching Fingersmith and there she was. Boom! In my head she was Emily Dickinson.”
“Sometimes that’s how i
t works.” Josh shuffled the papers on his desk for something to do with his hands. What he wanted to do was tuck the errant strand of hair that had slid down along Emma’s cheek back into her bun. But her rules were perfectly clear. No touching unless in the presence of those they were attempting to fool.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Emma tucked the hair back herself. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Don’t forget you’ve got the board meeting at EMF tonight.”
Josh’s position on the board of the Eugenie Markham Foundation charity had been orchestrated by Emma, another step on the road to wooing William Ransler to get him signed onto his film. Not that he minded. Josh actually enjoyed working with charities, even if he normally preferred to do so under the radar.
“Right. Is it a dinner thing?” He had a schedule of the board meetings somewhere in his desk, but he knew Emma would remember. She was the one who’d set it all up and her brain was a steel trap for details.