Little White Lies

by Lizzie Shane

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  by Lizzie Shane

  A Bouquet Catchers Novel

  Copyright © 2017 Lizzie Shane

  Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights reserved under copyright above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  LITTLE WHITE LIES

  It all started with one harmless little fib…

  Fifteen years ago Candy Raines moved to California to get far away from her high profile political family—and all the baggage that comes with them. She’s built a damn fine life for herself in Tinseltown as the resident tech specialist for Elite Protection, complete with the perfect no-strings relationship. If she had to invent a husband to get her Machiavellian mother off her back, that lie is just the price of her freedom. But now her sister is getting married in a splashy society wedding and Candy has to make an appearance—with her husband.

  Ren “Pretty Boy” Xiao has plenty of secrets of his own—secrets Candy has helped him hide—so when the woman who never asks for help tells him she needs him to pose as her husband for a week, he can’t refuse. Especially when it gives him a chance to see behind Candy’s many masks and reignites his hope that he might finally convince her to take their relationship beyond friends-with-benefits.

  But when they arrive at the wedding, they realize the secrets run deeper than they could have imagined—and nothing is darker than Little White Lies.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  For my family—every loud, loving, crazy one of you. You guys are rockstars.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A little over five years ago…

  Max plucked the next folder off the pile on his desk, reading the name off the tab. “Ren Xiao.”

  “Not his real name.” Candy’s tone was sharp, her mood tainted by lingering irritation after being overruled on the previous candidate and watching another folder land in the reject bin on the floor. They’d been at it for three hours now, combing through the reports she’d painstakingly compiled, and rejecting almost all of the candidates as unworthy of the Elite Protection launch.

  Max lifted one eyebrow, his focus on her rather than the folder he’d already familiarized himself with. “You don’t like him?”

  The note of surprise in his voice nettled. “I’m sure most women would probably trample one another for a chance to have his babies, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn off my instincts and become a simpering idiot just because he’s prettier than God.”

  Max’s slow smile said she might have protested too much. “Pretty doesn’t hurt when we’re trying to market our bodyguards as a luxury brand. We’re going for the sexiest protection money can buy.”

  “But he doesn’t need to sell it. He has more money than you do. Why does the rich, spoiled, pretty boy who’s probably never heard the word no in his life want to play at being a bodyguard?”

  “Ask him.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to do his interview. If he can make you trust him, he stays. If not…” He wagged the folder over the reject box, already overflowing with candidates who would not be joining the Elite Protection team.

  “You may as well toss it in there now.” Candy nodded toward the box. “I’m never going to trust someone whose entire identity is a pack of lies.”

  *

  Present day…

  Candy Raines didn’t ask for favors. Ever. She’d learned to look out for herself and dole out trust sparingly a long time ago and it wasn’t a lesson she was likely to forget. But she still sat in the darkened interior of her car, staring up at the male silhouette moving inside the brightly lit house, trying to work up her courage and calm her twisting stomach.

  She popped a Tums, chewing the chalky tablet and hoping it would accomplish what none of the four she’d already swallowed had managed to do and settle the nauseous roiling in her gut. Somehow she doubted it was good favor-asking form to puke all over the shoes of the person you’d come to beg.

  A shadow tracked across the front windows again and Candy’s heart clenched. At least she knew he was home. He could have been out on a date with that girl for all she knew, but no. He was here, moving around inside the house she knew as well as her own.

  “This is ridiculous,” she whispered to herself, reaching for the push-button start, tempted to start the whisper-soft electric engine and purr silently away from the scene of her embarrassment before it could occur.

  But she’d still have to go to DC. She’d still have to explain herself. She’d still have to open a giant can of drama immediately before her sister’s wedding—and Charlotte already liked to accuse Candy of stealing her thunder, making everything about herself. Her sister wouldn’t forgive her for this.

  The Lie might be forgivable, but only if the truth didn’t come out in a way that ruined her big sister’s big day.

  Which meant she needed to keep the farce going on for just a little while longer.

  Which meant she needed Pretty Boy.

  Candy was out of the car before her nerves could get the better of her, striding up the short walkway to the front door and leaning on the bell before she could give it a second thought.

  There was music coming from inside. Something light and poppy—a sugar-coated love song that didn’t match what she knew of his taste in music, which ran more to classic rock and soulful acoustic tunes. But she didn’t have time to dwell on the musical departure as a high pitched yip sounded inside and footsteps approached the door, accompanied by the frantic clicking of canine toenails on the hardwood.

  At least Wicket would be happy to see her.

  Then the door swung wide and there he was.

  Ren Xiao. Pretty Boy to his friends—of which she would like to believe she was still one even after every
thing that had happened in the last few months. He was model gorgeous—which made sense because he had once been a male model and still did a little moonlighting on the side when he wasn’t working at Elite Protection.

  She knew his stats—half-Chinese, a quarter Dominican, a quarter African American, six feet, one ninety, all muscle—but the words on paper failed to convey how jaw-droppingly perfect every one of those sculpted muscles was. Or the way he moved like liquid grace and sex on two feet. Or how his mixed heritage had created a face of such aching beauty. Or the way his smile never failed to calm her twisting stomach, as it did now. Or how his pale, glass-green eyes seemed to see right through her, past every disguise she wore.

  “Candy. Hey.” Those green eyes bore into her as she bent to pet Wicket’s soft coat as the puppy whined with excitement and wriggled with glee around her legs, nearly knocking her off her feet. “She missed you.”

  “She’s gotten bigger,” Candy commented. With her giant floppy ears and white-and-brown spotted coat, Wicket was some kind of spaniel or setter mix, though her exact origins were unknown. She’d filled out some, losing some of her puppy slimness—and Candy would have happily talked about the dog all night, but Pretty Boy knew her too well not to know something was up.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He’d told her he was in love with her once.

  The memory popped out of nowhere and made her stomach flip and gurgle again. That wasn’t why she was here. It was ancient history. Even if she’d wanted to rekindle things between them, that ship had sailed. End of story. She was here as a friend. Period.

  A friend begging for a favor.

  Candy forced herself to stop hiding behind the dog and straightened—which made Wicket whimper at the loss. She swallowed down the acid trying to climb up her throat. “Actually, I could use your help.”

  Ren’s eyes flared fractionally—the subtle symptom of his surprise a testament to the fact that she had never once said those words to him. Then his expression softened, something else moving across his face, something almost affectionate.

  Maybe she hadn’t hopelessly screwed things up between them—

  “Ren?” A light voice called from the back of the house. “Who was at the door, babe?”

  Ah, yes. The girlfriend. Lest she forget.

  “It’s just Candy, hon,” he called over his shoulder and she barely kept herself from visibly cringing.

  Just Candy. When had that happened? When had she become just Candy to him?

  Wicket whined again and Candy bent to pet her as an excuse to hide her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t realize you two were…”

  “No. No, you’re fine. Jess was just making dinner. Come in.”

  She was making dinner. Of course she was. Making herself at home in his kitchen. Like a real couple. Using their little endearments for one another. The perfect domestic scene.

  Something acidic jabbed at her gut, but she told herself it wasn’t jealousy. She didn’t have the right to be jealous. No, this had to be shock.

  Things were obviously more serious than she’d realized between them. He’d told her about Jessica, back when it was still new, but she hadn’t realized… she hadn’t thought…

  “I should go.” She straightened again and Wicket protested the loss of attention by frantically circling her legs.

  “Wicket, chill. Candy, come inside. Tell me what’s wrong and how I can help.” His tone brooked no refusal and the dog plopped her butt down, gazing up at Ren with adoring obedience—the usual female response. But Candy still hesitated.

  She didn’t want to step over the threshold. It wasn’t just Pretty Boy’s house anymore—that place where she’d spent countless evenings hanging out as friends…and then as something else. Jessica was here, making it hers, and suddenly Candy felt like an intruder. The third wheel. The ex, dropping by unexpectedly. She’d never thought, regardless of what happened between her and Pretty Boy, regardless of how awkward it sometimes got, it had never occurred to her that she would someday be relegated to unwelcome ex status.

  “Candy.”

  She stepped inside before she could overthink her way to another ulcer, nearly tripping over Wicket in her haste. The door clicked softly shut behind them as the dog excitedly dashed ahead down the hall and Ren placed a light hand on the small of Candy’s back, guiding her toward the living room.

  Jessica popped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel—Candy hadn’t even realized Pretty Boy owned kitchen towels—and her gaze immediately fell to where his hand rested on Candy’s back, though her smile didn’t dim.

  “Hi, Candy,” she said, her voice as light and inviting as if having her boyfriend’s ex show up uninvited at his home was a special treat. “Nice boots.”

  Candy looked down involuntarily, trying to remember what she was wearing. Which just proved how rattled she was. Her appearance was always deliberate—a carefully constructed ruse to project a certain image. Though that image changed on a near-daily basis. She could make herself look like everything from a sorority girl to a high-powered lawyer to a biker chick, depending on her mood and the image she wanted to project. She’d learned a long time ago that the best way to keep people from looking beneath the surface was to give them an outward image they thought they understood.

  Image was everything.

  She studied her toes in the black knee-high leather heels. Dominatrix boots. That’s right. She’d worn them to feel powerful, needing all the help she could get, but now she just felt foolish as her eyes drifted down to Jessica’s bare feet with their adorable pink painted toenails. “Thanks.”

  Jessica didn’t have to wear dominatrix boots to feel like a goddess. She looked like one without even trying.

  Tall and willowy slim, Jessica had a model’s body that somehow avoided looking boyish. Her thick, black curls would have been gorgeous on anyone, but with her flawlessly beautiful face they were almost overkill. She was a ten—even in Los Angeles. Far prettier than Candy. A much better match for Pretty Boy in the looks department. And nice. Which was good. Pretty Boy deserved nice. He deserved uncomplicated.

  Jess could give him what Candy never could: normalcy. So Candy tried her hardest to be happy that he was happy.

  “Will you join us for dinner?” Jessica went on, smiling as if there was nothing odd about Candy’s arrival. “I’m making vegetarian risotto with mushrooms and fennel.”

  Of course she was.

  “No, I can’t stay. I just… I just needed Pretty Boy for a minute.”

  Jessica’s smile widened as she laughed. “I still can’t get over that nickname.” She caught Pretty Boy’s gaze, her eyes glittering with affection. “Dinner’ll be ready in ten, babe, but I’ll keep it warm. Take your time.”

  And with that confirmation of her status as World’s Most Understanding Girlfriend, she retreated back to the kitchen, leaving them alone.

  “She’s great,” Candy enthused, hoping she sounded credible. “I’m so glad you guys found each other.”

  Pretty Boy nudged her toward a chair and only then did she realize his hand was still on her back. “I know you didn’t come here to talk about Jess.”

  Wicket, her initial frenzy soothed now that it appeared Candy was staying, had retreated to flop on her dog bed. She rested her head off the edge with her large floppy ears spread out on the floor and watched Candy and Ren to make sure her favorite people didn’t try to go anywhere without her.

  Candy moved deeper into the living room and sank onto the chair, her hands clasped tightly in front of her so she wouldn’t do something stupid like wring them since she didn’t have Wicket to hide behind anymore. He already knew she was nervous, no need to advertise it. Pretty Boy sat opposite her, his eyes patient—always so freaking patient with her. Far more than she’d ever deserved.

  “Candy?” he prompted gently. “How can I help?”

  She met his oh-so-understanding gaze and ripped off the band-aid. “I nee
d you to pretend to be my husband.”

  *

  Ren had been expecting a lot of answers—most of them having to do with Hank the Hammer, the former client who had recently started harassing Candy—but her reply caught him completely off guard.

  This was Candy. The woman who had balked at the idea of telling anyone that they were dating, the woman who had run in the other direction the second he told her he loved her, and now she wanted to play couple?

  “Maybe you’d better start from the beginning.”

  She took a deep, weary breath—the sound so unlike her Ren had to stop himself from snapping to attention. Candy didn’t show weakness. She was all smartass remarks, quick comebacks, and finely honed defense mechanisms to keep anyone from getting too close. From her constantly changing appearance to her carefully cultivated I don’t give a damn attitude, everything about her was designed to keep people at a distance, but when she sighed he heard something else behind the sound. Something vulnerable.

  “You know I moved here to get away from my family.”

  Ren nodded, trying not to look too eager so he wouldn’t spook her. Five years they’d known one another and he must have seen her naked three hundred times, but he didn’t think he’d ever heard Candy voluntarily talk about her past.

  She crossed her legs and his eyes drifted down to the ass-kicking heels she’d worn. Trying to psych herself up?