From Fake to Forever

by Jennifer Shirk

  “Oh, Sandra,” he said with a lethal smile. “Don’t you know it drives me crazy every time you give me one of your haughty I beg your pardons? Admit it. We share a connection, and I drive you just as crazy, too. Now it’s a matter of what you want to do about it.”

  His gaze bored into her as if she were under a microscope, with those eyes that were now a deep color of jade, and suddenly she couldn’t think. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and that’s when she feared he was way too close for comfort.

  She stumbled backward but managed to brace a hand on the wall to keep herself from falling. “I… You’re confusing me with other women.”

  “Other women?” He chuckled and looked over his shoulder. “At the moment, you’re the only woman here. The only woman who’s mattered these past two days.”

  His look of amusement was the catalyst for pulling herself together, but she hugged herself tight to make sure she stayed that way. Somehow, he had a way of doing this to her—throwing her off balance. And she had a sneaking suspicion he darn well knew it. She presumed it was nothing more than acting on his part. She just couldn’t figure out his purpose yet.

  “You’re wrong,” she lied. “I don’t want you.”

  He nodded, but several seconds ticked by before he finally turned and walked back toward the classroom. Her chin dropped, and she was able to let out a long, relieved breath. Thank goodness he wasn’t going to push the issue. She was beyond grateful for that. Otherwise, she didn’t want to think about the fact that she might have thrown herself at him and kissed him.

  Ben suddenly stopped, his hand hovering just over the doorknob, then he swung back to look at her. “You know, I could give you some acting lessons if you’d like.”

  “Why would I want acting lessons?”

  His mouth formed a tight, satisfied smile. “So the next time you lie and tell me you don’t want me, your eye won’t do that little twitching thing.”

  The look on her face must have been priceless, because he immediately threw back his head and laughed. It didn’t help her pride any that the hallway had a booming echo. It made his laugh roll over her as subtly as a tsunami.

  Her lips pursed together as tears formed in her eyes from the searing heat radiating off her cheeks. He certainly knew what buttons to push with her. Now she was sorry for trying to be nice to him and beyond sorry for seeing more to him than there actually was. The man thought everything was a big joke. She should have immediately called his agent after the spider mishap and, at the very least, asked for reparations for having to put up with someone as irritating as him. Pretending interest in her was more than inappropriate under the circumstances—not to mention cruel. She wanted to tell him that and more. But when she finally came up with what she considered an awesome comeback, he had already slipped into the classroom.

  That’s it, she thought, fuming with resentment. She was putting him in charge of the boys’ potty breaks tomorrow.

  The man barely knew her, and he was already making personal observations about her central nervous system. What did he know, anyway? Her eye did not twitch when she lied. Besides, she wasn’t lying. She didn’t want him at all. Jumping in front of the hallway window, she rushed to assess her reflection. There was nothing. Not one twitch. Well, just a minor—very minor—tic in the corner of her left eye. Then it was gone. It really couldn’t even be called a tic. Probably just a vein constricting because her blood pressure was shooting through the roof.

  See? She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t interested in another conceited actor. She’d already been there and done that with her ex-husband. There was no way her heart could survive another go-around in that fake and fast world. Besides, she wasn’t interested in dating anyone. Her wounds were still way too sore since her divorce. Maybe she was a little lonely right now, but that didn’t mean she wanted to play let’s-get-it-on with a man who was only going to be in town for a few more days. She had priorities that were more serious, like raising her daughter in a stable home and ensuring her business succeeded. That’s all.

  She did not want Ben Capshaw.

  Now, if only she could get her eye to stop double-crossing her brain, she might be able to hold on to her self-respect before it was time for him to go back to Hollywood.

  …

  Ben had the nerve to pop his head in her office exactly two hours later. “Do you mind if I wait in here while the parents pick up the kids?”

  Still angry with him—and herself—Sandra didn’t bother to look up from writing at her desk. “You mean hide in here while the parents pick up their kids?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I mean hide.”

  She finally put her pen down and lifted her head. Ben was doing one heck of a personal repentance show for her, hovering in the doorway with wide eyes and his hands folded. She practically saw the halo hovering over his golden-brown head. “Okay,” she said. “Then no, I don’t mind.”

  “Great. Thanks, Sandals.”

  She looked at him sharply as he stepped in. Five seconds had barely gone by, and he already had her back on the defensive. “That I do mind. My name is Sandra—not Sandals.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t figure you for a nickname type of woman,” he agreed, looking pleased with himself.

  “Good.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against her door. “But I’ve decided you need to loosen up. That’s why I’m going to call you Sandals.”

  “You know, typically a nickname is shorter than the given name.”

  “Is it?” he asked in seriousness. “Ben is already kinda short, but tell you what, you can call me…”

  She waited several beats, thinking of more than a few unkind examples. “I can call you what?” she finally asked.

  “That’s it.” He shot her his bone-melting smile. “You can just call me. Anytime, by the way.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to give in to the smile that threatened. “That sounds like a line from one of your movies.”

  He shot her a triumphant look. “Aha! I knew you were a fan.”

  “Please. Don’t flatter yourself. I only meant that it sounds like a very generic line from a very generic movie,” she lied.

  “Ouch.” He played wounded and made a show of sticking a pretend knife into his gut and taking it out.

  To be honest, she’d seen better performances by him.

  Ben pulled his phone out of his back pocket and turned it on. “You know, all in all, I had a pretty good day with the kids today.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You call terrorizing the children, having to perform a funeral service for a spider, and finger paint all over your polo shirt a pretty good day?”

  “Well…yeah.” He looked down and frowned. “This stuff will come out in the wash, right?”

  “I’m fairly certain.” She went back to her expense report, trying her best not to laugh again. She hated to admit it, but Ben Capshaw looked adorably cute with purple and blue paint smeared down his front.

  His cell phone started to ring. When he saw who was calling, he immediately answered it. “Hey, Courtney, I meant to call you.”

  Courtney. Sandra wondered who the heck Courtney was. No, she didn’t. Why would she? Courtney was probably some beautiful model slash actress slash heiress slash celebrity chaser slash fill-in-the-blank.

  “No, can’t do dinner tonight,” he said in a regretful tone. “I’m out of town for a while, not sure when I’ll be back.” He paused and listened, looking bored. “You bet. Sure. I’ll call you when I can.”

  He hung up, and when he met her gaze, she flinched. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped working, so utterly focused on his conversation with that woman—as if she cared or was even remotely interested. Ha! As if.

  She dropped her chin and pretended to write something important down in her ledger. But what she actually wrote was I need a life and to stop staring at Ben Capshaw.

  Come to think of it, that was a pretty important reminder.
Missy, Carol, Courtney, etc.… The list seemed to be growing. She didn’t need her named added to it.

  “So, what are you working on?” he asked, leaning forward to see on her desk.

  Her palms slammed down on top of her papers. “Weekly expenses and general bookkeeping.”

  Ben sat back with a nod. “You don’t have an accountant for all that?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She huffed out a breath. “For your information, Mr. Capshaw, we can’t afford to hire one.” Yet.

  “It’s Ben, and that probably takes a lot of your time.”

  Tell me about it. “I manage all right.”

  He cocked his head, studying her thoughtfully. “I bet you do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “I study people a lot. It helps me create characters, understand where certain emotions can stem from. You strike me as the kind of person you’d want on your crew if your ship were going down. Unflappable.”

  Unflappable. That was quite the compliment. She liked to think she was that, wanted to be that, but there were too many days when she thought she’d lose it. So maybe she and Ben had something in common after all. Apparently, she was just as good an actor as he was.

  “I don’t know if you’d call me unflappable if you saw the way I reacted when my ex-husband told me he was leaving. The neighbors still talk about that night. Thank goodness Hannah was too young to remember,” she said with a chuckle. Then with a slight gasp, she raised her hand to her lips. I can’t believe I told him that.

  She straightened, channeling some of that rigid composure he seemed to be so fond of. “I—I mean—”

  “You know, it’s okay to admit the truth,” he told her kindly. “It means you’re human.”

  She gave him a look. “I know I’m human, thank you very much.”

  He chuckled. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll give you a truth and then we’ll be even. That’ll show you I can be human, too.”

  “I doubt one piece of trivia will accomplish that enormous feat.” Although if she were to admit another truth, it would be that she was a tiny bit interested in hearing something about him that wasn’t common knowledge to the rest of the world.

  “Come on,” he cajoled, undaunted by her attitude. “Don’t you want to know a little more about me and not the actor me? It’ll pass the time while we wait for the kids to be picked up.”

  “What do you mean, like that twenty-questions game?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of truth or dare, but okay. We can play whatever game you like.” His gaze traveled over her body, slow and thorough, giving her an idea of where his thoughts were going and the games he was used to playing.

  A mixture of curiosity and excitement had her swallowing hard. But she hid her emotions with an amused huff as she stood and walked over to her filing cabinet.

  Honestly, Ben was worse than Hannah wanting to play games. She didn’t have time to entertain his childish whims, even if they did seem…a little enticing. She needed to find the number of a handyman. The building was falling apart, and a coat of paint might gloss over the many imperfections of it. Unfortunately, she was so intent on finding an old invoice, she didn’t notice Ben come up behind her until his hands braced the filing cabinet on either side of her.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, feeling her heart slam up against her chest.

  “Waiting to find out what game you want to play,” he whispered in her ear.

  She felt a shiver and whirled around to face him. “I…uh…game?” She couldn’t think—or even breathe. Standing so close, all the air around her seemed snatched up. So much for unflappable.

  He smiled, and her throat constricted even more. “It looks like I’ll have to pick for you,” he told her.

  “B-but you can’t.” Her palms came up and flattened on his chest, but for some reason she didn’t have the extra energy to push him away. She swallowed. “Someone will see.”

  His lips curved into a grin. “Your office door is closed.”

  “Is it?” She glanced past him. Sure enough, her door was shut tight, and it was just the two of them enclosed by four walls and no windows. Was it any wonder she was finding it so hard to breathe?

  “Mr.… Ben…I don’t want to—”

  He kissed her then.

  Ben Capshaw was kissing her. And what a kiss it was.

  Feeling his hands travel up her arms and cup her face created an unfamiliar sensation she wasn’t prepared for. That’s why she kissed him back. It had nothing to do with him being a celebrity or the man himself. Or the incredible scent of his skin. Or the fact that she hadn’t kissed a man since her divorce.

  He pressed his body—the one she’d been so preoccupied with lately—against her, hard and firm, and her legs wobbled. His arms came around her, holding on to her as if he were dangling off a bridge. He felt so good. This felt so good. It didn’t matter that she was kissing a famous movie star or what he must be thinking at that moment.

  Their tongues touched briefly, and she heard him moan. It had been so long since she had felt or incited that kind of reaction. She felt like an actual woman again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself farther into him, enjoying his response. If Ben was just acting again, he was doing a fine job of it. Maybe too fine. But she didn’t care. Not now. She let her better judgment take a short hike—for once—and gave in to this small, reckless moment of a kiss anyway.

  “Mommy, I need a Band-Aid!” Hannah yelled outside the door. And just like that, better judgment came back with a vengeance.

  Her hands flew to Ben’s chest, and she broke the kiss. Humiliation at her wantonness wouldn’t allow her to look at him, but she did manage a “Sorry” through her uneven breathing.

  “I’m not,” he said.

  Of course he wasn’t. He probably made out in back offices all the time. “What I meant was that was a mistake on my part. I don’t want to play these kinds of games with you anymore.”

  She didn’t wait for him to respond with anything smart-alecky or arrogant—didn’t even wait for him to step away from her. Instead, she gathered what was left of her self-respect and rushed to her daughter.

  Chapter Five

  “And then Ben spun a ball on his finger. Well, of course, all the children had to try it, too. You should have seen it. It was the cutest thing.” Missy reached for the coffeepot, still smiling from her long and drawn-out Ben Capshaw story, and poured herself another cup.

  Sandra drummed her fingers on her kitchen table and struggled for serenity. “Yeah, that’s quite a story. Look, can we not talk about Ben Capshaw anymore tonight, please?”

  Sandra had invited her to come over to her house so they could have a nice, sisterly chat and have a distraction. She wanted to discuss shades of lipstick, who the next Bachelor would pick, the newly appointed justice of the Supreme Court—anything besides Ben Capshaw. But instead, Missy was driving her one block short of the loony bin with the whole play-by-play of her first teaching day with Ben. All she’d heard since Missy had first stepped in the door was Ben this and Ben that. Ben, Ben, Ben!

  As if Ben hadn’t plagued her mind enough since this afternoon. The man—in all his super-celebrity audacity—had grabbed her, right there in her very own office, and kissed her. What was worse was she’d kissed him back. And not just one of those closed-mouthed, first-cousins-twice-removed type of kisses, either. She practically took a personal working inventory of his entire oral cavity. The man definitely knew how to use his mouth.

  No big shock there. After all, she’d hate to count the number of women he had to kiss in front of the camera, let alone in private. And now, being the weak, sex-starved moron she was, she had to go and add herself to that ever-growing list.

  Missy took another sip of coffee. “But I have another cute Ben story to tell. Why don’t you want to hear it?”

  “I just don’t, okay?” She felt a strong surge of guilt
over snapping at her sister, but she couldn’t do anything to rein in her testy behavior. “Look, save your enthralling Ben Capshaw stories for someone who’s interested. Like Carol. I, for one, am not interested.” Without thinking, she picked up her cup and slugged down the rest of her coffee as if she were doing shots at a bar. Thankfully, the coffee had cooled.

  Missy continued to stare, her eyebrows forming a small, blond V. “You seem a little uptight whenever I mention Ben’s name.”

  All she could do was snort in response.

  “Is there something going on between you and Ben Capshaw?” Missy asked.

  “W-what?” she spluttered. “That’s ridiculous. Laughable, really.” She tried to smile to prove her point, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. She was really a terrible liar. “There’s nothing going on between me and Ben Capshaw. I can’t stand the man.”

  Missy’s big blue eyes narrowed farther. Uh-oh. Missy might have looked the sweet, dumb-blonde part, but she was far from it. Sandra started to sweat. “Come to think of it, you both were acting kind of funny today.”

  “Funny?” Sandra swallowed and shifted in her chair. “Oh. That’s because of the whole Herbie fiasco, I’m sure.”

  Missy played with her earring and looked away in thought. “Maybe. But after school, I definitely saw Ben come out of your office looking a little dazed. At first, I chalked it up to it being his first full day with the kids, but now…”

  Sandra froze. Even though Missy was her sister, she still couldn’t bring herself to confide the truth. Partly because she was too embarrassed, but mostly because she hated admitting she’d lost control like that. Something very unusual for her, but it was happening a lot lately. Lately meaning since she met Ben.

  Her sister looked at her again and paled. “Oh my goodness! It’s true, isn’t it? Something is going on between you two.”

  She started to shake her head then blurted, “How did you know? Oh my gosh, am I wearing a neon I Kissed Ben Capshaw sign on my forehead or something?”