“As do I. Let’s get you set then, shall we?” asked the driver, grinning over his shoulder before jumping out to get their bags. Once they were situated and the driver tipped, Sully led the way up the cobblestone path toward the main house of the inn.
“It’s almost midnight,” Sasha murmured, blinking back the last of her sleepy expression. “Jace and Delaney got here a few days ago, and my parents both flew in on the red eye last night. I’m sure they’re all in bed by now, though, and we’re too late for formal check-in. My itinerary says our keys will be on the front table.”
Sully nodded, palming the brushed brass handle on the front door. “Shouldn’t be too complicated.”
But the look on her face when she pushed open the door to their room two minutes later told a very different story.
“There’s only one bed.” Although her whisper echoed softly off the wood-paneled walls, the thread of panic in her voice reached him loud and clear. A cursory scan of the room revealed a mahogany four-poster double bed, a stacked stone fireplace with logs at the ready, a small alcove with a door that Sully assumed led to a bathroom, and…shit. A wingback chair that looked like a stunt double for a green plaid straitjacket.
He proceeded carefully. “I take it you requested two in the reservation.”
“I didn’t request anything, even though I tried until I was purple. My father insisted on making all the arrangements.” Sasha’s shoulders fell, her carry-on bag finding the area rug with a muffled thump. “He can’t even trust me to make one freaking phone call for reservations. I’m twenty-nine, for God’s sake.”
Ouch. It’s possible the guy had been trying to be helpful, but that seemed a little extreme. “I’m sure if we talk to the inn manager tomorrow, we can work something out. For tonight, I’ll just take the chair.”
“That’s crazy,” she said, pointing at the green and blue monstrosity. “Are you even looking at this thing?”
Sully crossed the room, reaching the chair in a handful of strides. “It’s not so bad.” He lowered himself to the center of the cushion, the wooden chair frame giving a loud squeal of protest while three lumps the size and consistency of golf balls prodded against his ass.
“You’re right. It’s way worse than bad.” Sasha moved toward him, extending a hand to pull him back to standing.
His back sang a hallelujah chorus at the same time his conscience prickled in warning. “Sasha, I’m not letting you sleep in that thing.”
“Are you kidding?” She laughed, although there was no happiness in the sound. “I’m not going anywhere near that thing.”
“O-kay. We both need a place to sleep.”
Sasha’s hands found her hips, determination coloring her features in the soft lamplight. “There’s got to be a cot in this place somewhere. All we have to do is find it.”
Fifteen minutes of a high-and-low search of the inn’s storage spaces yielded nothing but a bunch of cleaning supplies and extra linens, and Sasha led the way back to their room, plunking into the chair with a sigh.
“So much for that.” She wrinkled her nose, giving the chair a look of disdain before pushing back to standing. “Lord, that thing is an upholstered torture device.”
“We could wake the manager now,” Sully offered. “He might have another room available.”
“No. It’s after midnight, and anyway, we both have a place to sleep.” She turned to look at the bed, with its green and white quilt and mile-high pile of fluffy white throw pillows. “Right there.”
“Uh,” Sully managed, wincing inwardly at the Neanderthal responses coming from both his brain and his cock. “I thought you weren’t comfortable with sharing a bed.”
“It’s not ideal, but the truth is, you’re supposed to be my boyfriend. If we ask for a room with separate beds, it’ll raise eyebrows. I know we weren’t expecting to share, but it’s what we’ve got. Unless you’re not comfortable with it.”
That flicker of softness that had threatened to unravel him the other day in the test kitchen made a sweet and sexy comeback, and it ushered Sully’s words on a direct path from his chest to his mouth.
“I’m fine with sharing the bed, but only if you’re sure you are.”
“I am,” she said, her expression marking her answer as the truth. “We’re both adults, and it’s not as if we’re not friends. Sharing the bed makes sense.”
Sully knew she was right, and what’s more, he knew better than to argue with her when she got that glint in her eyes. They were both in need of a decent night’s sleep, and as challenging as keeping his thoughts in check would be with Sasha sleeping mere inches away, it was the best shot at either of them getting any rest.
He gestured to the alcove. “Okay, then. Why don’t you go ahead in the bathroom, and I’ll just get changed out here.”
Sasha nodded, placing her suitcase on the narrow stand by the bathroom door. It took Sully all of about fifteen seconds to unearth the old University of Virginia T-shirt and basketball shorts he’d thrown into his bag to sleep in, but after five minutes of Sasha’s exasperated rummaging, he finally had to bite the bullet.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, casting a glance at the clothing cyclone beneath her hands.
“Not…exactly. I guess I must’ve been preoccupied with all this family stuff when I was packing, and I, ah, well, I left my pajamas on top of my dresser at home. I tried to find something else I could substitute, but I don’t really have anything…appropriate.”
The image of Sasha slipping under the bed sheets in nothing but her bra and panties slammed into him like an over-sexed wrecking ball, and he scrambled for rational thought. “Will this work?” he asked, holding up his UVa T-shirt. The thing wasn’t a total rag, but it had seen better days, plus it had to be four sizes too big for her. Although in this case, the discrepancy probably worked in their favor, since it looked like they were going to be a little off in the people-to-pants ratio.
Sasha’s eyes lit with relief, chasing away the flush on her face. “It’s perfect. But what will you wear?”
“I’ll just stay in this one.” Sully tugged at the hem of the black T-shirt he’d thrown on this morning, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn’t in too bad of shape.
“Thanks. You’re a great friend.” She paused to take the T-shirt from him with a grateful smile, and God, he was starting to think of friend as the new and improved F-word.
“Sure. I’d be a crappy wingman if I didn’t have your back.”
Ten minutes later, after they’d both changed and brushed their teeth and gotten awkwardly under the covers of the four-poster bed, Sully stared at the ceiling, about as wide-awake and wired as any human being could get without pharmaceutical assistance. It might be after midnight here in Ireland, but his circadian rhythm reminded him all too strongly that it was barely past dinnertime in the States.
Just like his libido refused to let him forget that the woman of his fantasies was lying barely six inches away, wearing nothing more than his college T-shirt and a set of bed sheets.
Sully released an exhale, willing himself to relax. Yes, he wanted her, but he needed to come up with a strategy, a plan to figure out why she’d blocked him out on the plane. Then he could go from there. Tomorrow. After they’d both gotten some shuteye.
“Sully?” Sasha’s whisper was so soft, he almost thought he’d imagined it. But then she turned to her side to face him, the glimmer of her gaze barely visible in the moonlight spilling in past the curtains.
“Yeah?” He tipped his head toward her, catching the brisk, citrusy scent of her hair streaming over her pillow and into the space between them. Christ, this was going to be a long night.
She folded one arm beneath her cheek, running a finger over the edge of her pillow with her free hand. “I just wanted to say thanks.”
“It’s only a T-shirt,” Sully said, trying to tease a smile out of her. “Not even my nicest.”
Bingo on the smile. “That’s not what I meant, smartass.
Not a lot of guys would offer up their spring break and all their frequent flyer miles to pose as a buffer date for a high-intensity family wedding. In fact, you’re the only guy I know who would volunteer for the job. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sully knew the smart move was to wish Sasha goodnight and let her drift off to sleep. She was clearly wound up about seeing her parents tomorrow, and he still had no blueprint whatsoever for getting her to relax. But the vulnerability in her eyes combined with the cover provided by the silvery shadows, and he realized all at once that her unease wasn’t linked exclusively to the family part of the equation.
He shifted to his side to face her fully, lack of strategy be damned. “So how come you think this wedding is crazy?”
“I think all weddings are crazy,” she said, the answer as automatic as her matter-of-fact shrug.
“But you said Jace is really happy and Delaney’s a great girl, right? Aside from the wedding being a little rushed to accommodate her family, how is it that them getting married is nuts?”
Sasha sighed, the slim line of her shoulders sinking further into her pillow. “Because it’s easy to be happy in the beginning. My parents were, and look how that turned out. Hell, my mother is on husband number four, and each time she’s sworn up and down that the flavor of the month would stay on the menu forever. Somehow, they never do.”
Ouch. “Okay, I get that not every marriage ends up happy. But what about couples who have been together for fifty years?”
“Compared to all the couples who get divorced every year? I’d say those happily-ever-after couples are definitely the exception, not the rule. I’m not trying to be cynical, but let’s face it—relationships almost always end, and most of them end badly.”
Sully’s thoughts winged to his parents. He might not want to take the plunge into marital bliss right this minute, but he’d always assumed that when he was finally ready, his relationship would work forever, just like theirs. Apparently Sasha had the exact same impression, only to the reverse effect. With her parents’ past history, no wonder she had a no-tolerance policy regarding all things commitment.
And if she thought relationships never worked out, no wonder she always picked crappy boyfriends. Sasha might not know it, but Sully would be willing to bet the bank she was a walking, talking self-fulfilling prophecy.
“What about you?” Sully asked, blowing even further past his lack of strategy as he looked at her through the lace-patterned shadows being cast by the curtains. “Do you want to get married one day?”
Her laughter puffed over him in a warm, soft burst. “I just told you I think it’s crazy.”
“I think skydiving is crazy, but that didn’t stop me from going. Anyway—” Sully paused, holding her gaze in the barely-there light. “I already know what you think. Now I want to know what you want.”
For a minute that stretched into several, she said nothing, and oh shit, maybe jumping in without a plan had been a bad idea after all.
Just as Sully was about to scramble together a quick joke and an even quicker goodnight, Sasha whispered, “I want to be happy.”
She exhaled as if the words had surprised her, her lips parting into a round, lush O before she pressed them into a flat line. “I’m just pretty sure all this fairy tale, forever-and-ever stuff doesn’t apply to me. I mean, I’m glad my brother is in love, and I hope he and Delaney are the exception to the rule. But I’d rather stick with reality.”
Damn, she was going to make it tough to get past her anti-relationship armor. But if Sully excelled at anything, it was finding a way to get what he wanted.
And right now, he wanted Sasha to see that mixing business with pleasure could lead to something more than a dead end.
#
Sasha peered through the purple-gray shadows of the bedroom, her heart racing beneath the soft, cotton sheets. She’d known since puberty that relationships—especially marriages—almost always came to a grim end.
And up until three minutes ago, when Sully had asked her not what she thought, but what she wanted, it had never occurred to Sasha that a relationship might make that list in any way.
Sully cleared his throat, the soft rumble tugging her back to the conversation. “Speaking of reality, we should probably talk about this whole fake-boyfriend thing. Just to get the story straight before we see everyone tomorrow.”
“Oh, right.” She shifted against her pillow, grateful for something to think about other than the weird thread of longing that had just curled through her rib cage. God, the stress of seeing her parents was really getting to her. “Well, I think it makes sense to stick to the truth as much as we can. We met at culinary school, and we’re station partners.”
“Sounds good. Have we been going out since we met?”
Sasha fought the urge to laugh, allowing a smile to take over her mouth instead. “They’d never believe that, Jace least of all. I’ve mentioned you to him a few times in passing though, and obviously, he knows I’m bringing you. A month of dating ought to do the trick.”
“You’re not going to tell your brother this is an act?” The surprise in Sully’s voice was clear, but she answered with certainty.
“No. The fake-date thing would just be one more thing for him to worry about. I’m not doing that to him at his wedding. Plus, we should keep up the relationship ruse across the board in order to keep things believable and avoid slipping up.”
Sully paused, his eyes glinting as he looked at her from his side of the bed. “How believable do you want to get?”
All of a sudden, Sasha realized exactly how close Sully’s side of the bed was to hers. She whispered, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re probably going to have to do more than tell a few stories in order to convince everyone we’re together.” His voice dropped to a murmur, heating a path up her spine as he added, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with in order to make this work.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. Sully wasn’t wrong about them needing to engage in a little PDA to pull this fake-boyfriend thing off, and anyway, setting the parameters now was smart. “Well, we held hands on the plane. That was…” Comforting. Intimate. Hot as sin. “A good start.”
Sully slid his arm into the no-mans-land between them, brushing his knuckles over hers before flipping his palm to lace their fingers together. Sasha’s stomach did an involuntary twisting half-gainer, but she didn’t let go.
“What are you doing?” She swallowed back the sigh building in the back of her throat as Sully skimmed his callused thumb over the inside of her wrist.
“Just a little practice,” he said. “What’s next?”
Sasha inched forward, until barely a few inches separated their bodies. “I suppose you’ll put your arm around me from time to time.”
“Like this.” There was no question in his voice as he gently dropped her hand to wrap his tightly-muscled forearm around the back of her rib cage. The move brought them face to face at the edges of their pillows, and whether it was the darkness making her bolder or the fact that Sully was letting her call all the shots in this little practice session, Sasha couldn’t be sure.
But she didn’t want to stop. “Yes. But it would probably look odd if I didn’t hold you back.” She pressed her palm against the hard plane of his chest, his pulse beating firmly beneath her fingers.
“Fair enough,” he said, tipping his chin so their mouths were completely level. “Do you think we might kiss when that happens?”
Oh. God. “Yes.”
Sully brushed his mouth over hers, his soft lips completely at odds with the friction of his five o’clock shadow as he angled closer. Sasha spread her fingers wide over the front of his T-shirt, exhaling in a soft burst as he parted her lips ever so slightly. But rather than try to dominate her or deepen the kiss, Sully kept his attention on her mouth, arcing his tongue over her lower lip in a maddeningly delicate sweep before pulling back.
“How’s that, between friends?”
<
br /> The words brought her crashing back to her senses. Of course this had just been practice, the two of them getting on the same page before tomorrow rolled around and they were faced with her family’s uber-inquisitive eyes. And Sully was her friend, which was all the more reason she needed to buckle down and think with something other than her girly bits.
“I think that’ll be fine. But we should probably get some sleep.” Sasha slid back to her side of the bed even though the cool, crisp sheets made her that much more aware of how warm she’d felt in Sully’s arms. But the last thing she needed with T-minus eight hours to go was something that would blow both her composure and her story.
Relationships never lasted. Seeing her parents tomorrow would be all the reminder Sasha needed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sully ran a hand through his shower-damp hair, giving his reflection one last glance before calling it as good as it got. He probably would’ve had a decent shot at sleeping off the pair of shadows the Jet Lag Fairy had dragged beneath his eyes, if only he’d been able to do more than toss and turn around the world’s most unrequited hard-on.
Yep. No amount of strategic thinking was going to cure him of that.
Sully stabbed his arms into his banged-up leather jacket, pulling the thing tight across his shoulders. Granted, kissing Sasha under the guise of boyfriend practice hadn’t been part of the easy-does-it plan. But the way she’d pressed her hand against his chest and looked up at him with that soft and sexy yes had shredded his carefully planned strategy—not to mention his composure—like a five-pound wheel of Parmesan. It might’ve been impulsive, but Sully had hoped the bold move, coupled with the mention of their friendship, would bridge the gap from business to pleasure.
Instead, the F-word had made her punt him squarely back to the friend zone.
“Hey.” Sasha padded into the bedroom, twisting the ends of her dark hair between her fingers. “Sorry I’m running a little late this morning.”
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