by Lili Valente
“Happy to help.” Shane slides into the booth ahead of me. “And there’s a bottle of champagne with your name on it if you make Jake dress up in a dragon outfit for the photo shoot.”
I ease in beside her with a smile, putting my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll wear a dragon suit, but only if you dress up as a warrior princess. None of the pink, flowing stuff.”
“Why’s that?” Shane cocks her head, a pleased smile teasing her lips that makes me want to get this answer right.
“Because you’re too badass to wait around for someone to save you.” I catch a lock of her hair, wrapping it around my fingers. “And because I think you’d look unbelievable in a leather bra and holding a sword.”
She hums thoughtfully, but her eyes are dancing. “Just a bra and a sword? Nothing else?”
“Or just the sword,” I say, grinning. “But only if we were alone.” My smile fades at the thought of anyone else seeing Shane decked out in a leather bikini. “So on second thought, I’ll be a dragon and you can be a princess who lives somewhere really cold and likes to put on her winter coat before she comes outside.”
“So, you don’t like to show her off?” Denise asks, a more focused note in her tone that makes it clear the interview has started.
“Um…not really.” I experience a flash of nerves for the first time since arriving at the party. Beneath the table, Shane squeezes my leg in a silent show of support. I glance down at her, feeling better as soon as I look into her eyes. “The person I’m dating is a person, not a status symbol.”
“But you’ve dated so many women who could be considered just that,” Denise says, proving there’s a real reporter beneath her bubbly exterior. “If you’re not after the status symbol, then why not date one of the many beautiful, not famous women in New York? Why go after actresses and models and country music superstars?”
“I don’t discuss my past relationships,” I say in an even tone. “But I will say that most of the women I’ve dated have very public careers, like mine. They understand what it is like to be in the spotlight. I never had to worry that I was exposing them to scrutiny that they wouldn’t have experienced in their everyday lives. As a private person, that’s something I worry about when it comes to the women I’m involved with.”
“Interesting.” Denise nods. “So is that why you’ve kept things so quiet with Shane so far, and with Miss Warner before you and Shane were involved?”
“Denise,” Shane says, a note of censure in her voice. “You said you weren’t going to ask about that.”
Denise blinks innocently. “Did I? Oh man, I don’t think I said that. I’m not going to sell copies by spreading rumors, but I am interested in facts.” She turns her sharp brown eyes my way. “But if Jake isn’t comfortable talking about that part of his past, we can move on.”
“I’m fine with it.” I force a tight smile. “Yes, I do make an effort to keep things quiet when I’m dating someone who isn’t already in the public eye. If things end, I don’t want her to be hounded by reporters or paparazzi unless she wants to be. That should be her choice, not a pain in the ass she has to deal with because we had dinner a few times.”
“And yet, here you are.” Denise smiles as she leans in, propping her chin on top of her fist. “Agreeing to be interviewed for a high profile magazine article with a woman who has made it her mission in life to keep her private life private and who runs for the hills every time Page Six sends a photographer to cover one of her galas. What’s up with that, you two?”
“You know exactly what’s up with that,” Shane cuts in before I can answer, her tone sweet, but firm. “Neither of us are going to go on record about anything specific, but I will say this—I will do whatever it takes to protect an innocent person, especially when that person happens to be the man I love.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jake
My chest goes tight and my arm flexes around Shane’s shoulders. She looks up at me, and that electric shock of awareness and recognition pulses between us again.
In some ways, I barely know this woman, but in others it feels like she’s an old friend.
She’s just so…real. Shane is one hundred percent Shane. From the moment we met, she’s given me herself, unfiltered, and demanded the same from me. So even though half of the things we’ve said tonight are lies, when I look into her eyes I feel like I know exactly where I stand.
I’m with a friend, someone I can trust, not because I’m paying her to be my fake girlfriend, but because she’s chosen to stand beside me.
“Thank you,” I say softly, hoping she knows I mean for all of it.
All of her.
“My pleasure.” She holds my gaze, until it feels like there’s no one else in the room. “You’re worth getting out of my comfort zone.”
“And what about you, Jake?” Denise asks, her voice distant, outside the circle Shane and I have created. “How do you get out of your comfort zone for the woman you love?”
“I’ve been out of my comfort zone since the day I met Shane,” I say, still focused on her pretty blue eyes. “I took one look at her and forgot I was a guarded, cynical bastard who made it his mission in life not to trust anyone.”
Shane grins, and the darkness surrounding the booth fades in the face of her smile. “Don’t exaggerate, Falcone,” she says, her voice husky. “If I remember correctly, it was more like ten or fifteen minutes. I had to yell at you a little first to get you to play nice.”
This isn’t part of the story we agreed upon earlier today, but I don’t care. This is even better. Because this is the real story, and with Shane I’ll take real over pretend every damned time.
“You’re right.” I hug her closer. “You did have to yell at me a little first, but I deserved it. Thanks for putting up with my grouchy ass.”
“It’s my pleasure, babe,” she says, eyes shining. “My pure and complete pleasure. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
And in that moment, with this incredible woman looking up at me like I might actually deserve her, I forget about Denise. I forget about how Shane and I met and the obstacles standing in our way and the ex-girlfriend doing her best to wreck my chances with any other woman.
I forget about everything but the warmth in Shane’s eyes and the driving desire to keep that smile on her face.
But then Denise claps her hands again and the fog clears, bringing me back to reality before I do something crazy like ask Shane if she wants to move in with me, or run away to a desert island for a month and do nothing but each other all day long.
I’m not going to rush this or do anything to scare her away. If she tells me she’s not ready for more than friendship, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes, because she’s worth waiting for, no matter how much I’m dying to make love to her tonight and wake up with her golden head on the pillow next to mine tomorrow morning.
“Well, consider me sold, sweethearts.” Denise lifts a hand to a passing waiter and plucks a glass of champagne from the tray he dips low in front of her. “I’m a fan. A big fan. I’m shipping you hardcore. So tell all—how did you meet, what do you love most about each other, what are some of your hopes and dreams for the future?”
Shane launches into a slightly modified story of “The Day We Met” and from there the conversation flows easily, our prep work this afternoon giving us plenty of things to talk about. We’re only halfway through our arsenal of “Cute Couple Stories” when Denise finishes her fourth glass of champagne and announces our first interview a smashing success.
“Now, if you guys wouldn’t mind taking a turn around the dance floor, I’ll get Nelson to snap a few shots for the blog and we’ll be good to go.” Denise scoots out of the booth, smoothing her dress as she stands. “And then you’re free to enjoy the party, grab some food, dance, whatever floats your boat. As long as you don’t leave before they cut the guitar cake. It has a lemon curd filling that is absolutely heavenly.” Her eyes lift to the ceiling as she brings he
r palms together in a prayer position. “Worth every spin class I didn’t skip this week. I did the taste test at the bakery myself while Jorge was out of town last week. I’m pretty sure orgasmic sounds came out of my mouth while I was swallowing. I couldn’t help myself.”
Shane laughs. “I’m pretty sure some carbohydrates should go into your mouth before you go dance with Jorge. How tipsy are you?”
“Just tipsy enough.” Denise winks. “Wish me luck?”
“Good luck,” I say. “And thanks again for the invite.”
“My pleasure,” Denise says, beaming. “Truly. I hope you both have an amazing time.”
I slide out the booth, holding a hand out to Shane. “Can I have this dance, beautiful?”
“Absolutely, handsome.” Her fingers curl around mine in a seductive caress I feel in places a lot more intimate than my hand.
“Thanks for taking good care of us, Denise,” Shane says.
“Of course.” Denise wiggles her fingers. “Nice to meet you, Jake. Sorry to put you through the wringer a little, but, you know, I’m a reporter. It’s my job to be obnoxious and invasive.”
I smile. “No worries. It was fun. Looking forward to next time.”
“Liar,” Shane whispers as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“Not even a little bit.” I draw her in close with my right hand and offer her my left. “I’m having a great time.”
She rests her fingers lightly on top of mine and hums softly. “You know, I would almost believe you are. What happened to the Jake Falcone who never met a publicity op he didn’t hate?”
“He met a girl,” I say, leading her into a waltz. She follows as if we’ve been dancing together for years, confirming my suspicion that we’re going to move well together. “A woman actually. An incredible, unique, fascinating woman who makes him forget the things he usually likes to worry about.”
“So was that true, what you said?” A serious note creeps into her voice. “Do I really push you out of your comfort zone?”
“You don’t push. You don’t have to.” I flatten my palm at the small of her back, loving the feel of that feminine curve. “I want to be where you are, Willoughby. And not because I’m paying you to help me out.”
She blinks. “No?”
“No,” I insist. “In fact, I’m willing to fire your fine ass right now and take my chances with getting my life back together on my own if it means you’ll give this a chance. A real chance, in real life.”
Her eyes go almost comically wide, making it clear that wasn’t at all what she was expecting me to say. But before she can tell me that she shouldn’t date a client—even a former client—or come up with another reason to push me away, I pull her in for a kiss.
Our lips meet and melt and my arm tightens around her waist, lifting her into the air. I spin her around twice, making sure I’ve taken her breath away before I set her back on her feet.
“Don’t answer now,” I say, as we find our rhythm again, drifting past the band as the dance floor rotates smoothly beneath our feet. “Wait until we’re alone. Let’s make sure this guy gets some good shots, first.”
That way you’ll have something to remember her by when she tells you to get lost.
I push the thought away. She was surprised, so what? That doesn’t mean her answer is going to be no. I still have a shot with her, or at least I need to believe I do until I’ve made it off this dance floor and away from the man snapping pictures as I turn Shane under my arm.
“Right. Good idea.” Shane’s smile returns, as dazzling as ever, proving she’s determined for this to be as perfect as she promised. Even if she plans to let me down easy as soon as we’re alone.
“Where did you learn to dance?” she asks as I guide her around an older couple taking the waltz at half time.
“My college girlfriend was a dance major. She taught me so I could be her partner for her ballroom classes.”
“You’re good.” Her fingers tighten around my hand. “Very good. I had three years of cotillion and you make me feel like a klutz in comparison.”
“You’re not a klutz,” I say, guiding her closer. “I love the way you move.”
“Yeah?” She bites her lip, bringing to mind that list of bitable body parts I hope to be getting from her later.
“Yeah,” I say, my gaze fixed on her sexy mouth. “I could watch you walk across a room all day long. Just the way your hips shift beneath your clothes drives me crazy.”
“Real life crazy,” she says softly.
“Real life crazy,” I confirm. “So crazy that on the way up in that elevator, it was all I could do not to flip the emergency switch.”
Her lashes sweep down and back up, heat flickering in her eyes. “And what would you have done after you flipped the switch, dragon?”
“I would have kissed you, princess.” I don’t bother to hide the hunger in my voice. “I would have pushed you up against the wall and kissed every part of you not covered by that sexy as fuck dress. And then I would have gone after the covered parts, just to see how far you would let me go before you told me to stop.”
“And what if I didn’t tell you to stop?” Her tongue sweeps across her lips and my cock jerks hard in my pants, losing the battle against what this woman does to me.
“Then I guess our first time would have been in an elevator.” I pull her closer, jaw clenching as her stomach presses against where I’m hard enough to slay dragons with my cock.
“Good God,” she mutters, her breath rushing out with this sexy little moan that destroys the last of my self-restraint.
“I would have had you up against the wall,” I say, speaking low so my words are for her and no one else. “But first, I would have made you come, princess. On my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. I’ve been dreaming about fucking you with my tongue since I left your apartment that first afternoon.”
“Me, too,” she whispers, arching closer. “But you have to stop.”
“No, I wouldn’t have stopped,” I promise, deliberately misunderstanding her, because I need to make that blush staining her cheeks spread across her entire body. “I wouldn’t have stopped until you were completely fucking useless, Willoughby. Until you’d come so hard your knees were weak and I had to carry you out of the elevator.”
“Jake, I—”
“But I wouldn’t have carried you into the party,” I push on. “I would have hit the ground floor button, carried your fine ass straight into a cab, and told the driver to break every traffic law required to get us to my place in five minutes. Because I wouldn’t have been able to wait more than five minutes to have you, to be inside of you.”
She trembles against me as her forehead falls to rest against my shoulder. “This is so wrong. So wrong.”
“No, it’s not,” I insist. “It’s the rightest thing I’ve felt in so damned long. And as long as you want me, too, I don’t—”
“Oh, I do.” Her words send a fierce wave of relief rushing through me. “I want you, Jake. I want you so much I can barely think of anything else.”
“And I want you. I want to be inside you so fucking bad, princess,” I whisper, my balls aching miserably between my legs. “I want to feel you come on me. I want you naked and wet and—”
“Screw the pictures.” Her breath rushes out as she grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me to a stop at the edge of the dance floor, her eyes hungry and wild. “I need to be alone with you, Falcone. Right fucking now.”
And that’s all I fucking need to hear.
Without another word, I wrap my arm around her waist and aim us both toward the cocktail lounge. I’m hoping to find a private bathroom or a supply closet—not the classiest choices, but any room with a door will do right now. Just something to hide Shane and me from everyone else so that no one else can see her face when I get my fingers between her legs.
God, I’m fucking dying. I need to touch her, to feel her wet and hot and coming on some part of me, any part of me, before I go out of my mind with
frustration.
“Outside,” Shane whispers, pointing to a shadowy corner of the lounge.
There, behind a length of black velvet rope, is a door leading out to a dark balcony. A “closed” sign hangs on the glass, but there’s no one around to enforce the order, and no one will be outside to see or hear when I push Shane’s dress up around her waist and get to work making her come so hard she’ll forget any other man ever had his mouth on her.
I need that, need her, so much that I don’t hesitate to wonder what will happen if we get caught breaking the rules. I push through the door and out into the cool night, moving around the deserted bar covered in black tarps with the Rainbow Room logo on the sides. I keep going until Shane and I are tucked away against a right angle in the brick wall that provides shelter from the prying eyes inside and the breeze whipping the air high above the city, and then I kiss her.
It’s a kiss that holds nothing back, a kiss that makes demands I have no right to make. But it also makes promises. Promises to give her all the pleasure she can handle, if she’ll just let me in.
Let me all the way in—into her life, her heart, and the stunning body so hot beneath my hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Shane
Oh my God, yes.
Yes, yes, yes!
I should be saying no. I should be slamming on the brakes and insisting we at least lay down some ground rules before we violate, in a hundred hot and heavy ways, the contract we both signed, but my thoughts are all yes.
All yes and hell yes and oh my God he’s touching me—finally touching me everywhere I’ve been dying for him to touch, and it feels like I might die from the bliss of it, but hell…what a way to go.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he guides the straps of my dress off my shoulders and my breasts fall free. “I can’t wait to taste you.”