Fake Fiancé, Real Love: Fake Fiance Accidental Marriage Box Set

by Dez Burke

  She couldn’t stop thinking about that last lingering look he’d given her as she’d walked away up the stairs. She listened carefully but didn’t think he’d come up himself. What could he still be doing down at that time of the night?

  God! Hopefully not more drinking?

  Angela knew she was dumb, crazy and stupid for what she did half an hour later. After showering and wearing her pajama set and dressing gown, she retired to lie on top of her bed and read a book to help get her to sleep.

  She couldn’t get Shane out of her mind. She thought of how tortured he’d seemed tonight; more than usual. Beneath the semi-dark lights of the club, he’d seemed like every other guy having a night out with friends. Even though he didn’t dance, he laughed and talked and seemed to be having a good time but Angela could tell it was mostly a cover. He probably didn’t even want to be there. But he had something to prove and he’d stuck it out until it was time to leave.

  Angela was too restless to go to sleep. The next moment she was jumping from the covers, tightening her sash around her and sneaking from the room and down the stairs.

  She found Shane exactly where she’d expected: in his study, seated behind his desk like that very first time. It was even more shadowy than normal. She pushed open the door quietly and called his name.

  Even though he didn’t answer she saw his form in the chair. On the table was a half-drank bottle of scotch and a tumbler.

  Heart racing, she stepped in, her slippers making barely any sound on the hardwood floor. “Shane? Are you okay?”

  Instinctively, her hand groped for the light switch on the wall, but his barked tone made her stiffen, “Don’t. No fucking lights.”

  Angela nodded in understanding then felt stupid when she realized he might not see it. She stepped forward, blinking to get her eyes accustomed to the dimness.

  “I’m worried about you, Shane. You...you really shouldn’t be drinking so much,” she offered. She knew she should leave him the hell alone. He was like a wounded lion; the last thing he’d need was any show of kindness or Christian concern which Angela told herself was what she was exhibiting. She also told herself she knew what was biting him and somehow felt responsible.

  She was only asking for trouble.

  She knew that but she couldn’t just keep her heart hardened and unfeeling. That wasn’t how she was at all. He merely grunted in reply to her statement. It sounded more like a warning growl. But Angela couldn’t let herself get scared off by that forbidding attitude of his.

  She made it to the desk without cracking her kneecap on any of the sturdy masculine furniture dotting the room. Her hand traced over the edge of the table as she went around it, just in time to catch the bottle as Shane lifted it straight to his mouth.

  “This never solved anything, Shane,” she said gently while her touch was firm as she had to force the bottle out of his clutch. She placed it on the far side of the table and then turned to find his hand which had relinquished the bottle was now travelling up her hip to grab her waist. She dragged in a breath, catching his eyes that were like grey shards of icy fire.

  Without thinking she lifted her hand to his face. She couldn’t really see but she could feel the tracks from the burns on the right side of his face. She felt more than heard the sharp intake of air that caused his chest to expand beneath his shirt.

  “Is that what you do now? Drink to hold off the pain? It still hurts, doesn’t it?” was her soft question.

  He groaned low in his throat and turned his lips into her palm. “What, you mean the agonizing scars or the fact that people still flinch when they manage to look my way?” he replied.

  “I know you’re suffering but alcohol isn’t going to make it better.”

  “No. And I think we both know what can make it better but you’re not exactly obliging, are you?” he asked on a harsh laugh. “I mean, you refused to sleep with me for money but I can’t see you sleeping with me out of pity, either. Which one do you think would be harder for me to stomach? Having to pay for it...or having to beg for it instead? Because for you, Angela, I will beg. In a heartbeat, without hesitation. I want you that fucking much and if that’s what it’ll take...”

  Angela scowled in the darkness down at him as she snatched her hand away. “Do you need to play the obnoxious rich guy? I mean is that your defense mechanism: make people hate you so that you never have to worry about not being worthy of their love, because of your scars?”

  “Love means nothing to me,” Shane said gruffly. “No one deserves to be with me. No one would ever even want to. Not now. Not for real – and certainly not forever. But I guess it is what it is.”

  Oh Shane, Angela thought tenderly as her heart swelled for him. She was so busy being touched by his words, she almost didn’t realize he’d pulled her close and set his cheek against her belly. At first she didn’t know what to do but then, found her fingers cupping his full head of hair, combing through the soft, silky locks.

  His hands on her waist began to travel higher. He rubbed his face into her stomach and made her secret places quiver. He must have felt the tiny, tell-tale tremors; the next thing she knew her ass was planted against the desk as he rose from the chair to edge her flat on her back while his frame quickly covered hers.

  Shocked with arousal, Angela didn’t know what to do as she felt his lips trace kisses in the open V of her dressing gown. He nuzzled at her breasts half-spilling from the neckline of her gown. Just when she thought to protest, he dove far lower, making her gasp as his face became level with her crotch, thankfully encased in her somewhat baggy satin pajama shorts.

  “I want to taste you,” he groaned deeply. “Inside out. Every single luscious inch until I make your juices run down my lips and tongue.” For emphasis, he buried his nose in the apex of her thighs and inhaled deeply. Angela wanted to faint with mortification and desire.

  “Damn you smell so good. I just know you’ll taste even better.”

  Merely thinking about Shane putting his mouth on her sex had her mind short-circuiting, but it took his hands reaching for her waistband to get her senses returning in earnest.

  “Shane, don’t. You aren’t yourself. You’ve been drinking. Please stop.” She couldn’t believe it was Shane saying and doing these things. Her fingers were fisted in his hair, before she realized what she was doing and let the thick locks go abruptly.

  Her thrill at his touch and the feel of him seeking to master her with his passion had her body reeling. She wanted to, so much. He was lonely and so was she, in her own way. Love hadn’t been kind to her either.

  She would give Shane so much comfort with the softness of her desire and she knew his powerful arousal would be a rock-hard manifestation if she only gave them the chance.

  With a groan, he moved back up again, leaning over her while his hand rested flat on her belly, only gently pinning her down. He ghosted his mouth close to her lips, his breath warm with a hint of scotch and a truckload of passion.

  “It will be so good. I promise,” he whispered thickly. “I will spend all night making it good for you.”

  God, he was always doing that.

  Making her imagine the possibilities. I can make you want me, he’d dared her that night of their first kiss. Angela had wanted to give in to the challenge, but instead she’d turned to anger and then walked up to her lonely, cool bed. Would tonight be different? Would she finally yield to what swelled like a giant wave inside her core?

  She already wanted him; he didn’t even have to do anything. It was just something that happened, like breathing. She couldn’t imagine how irresistible he must have been to the women in his past, who’d never had to look beyond the surface, such as his looks and wealth. But Angela wasn’t that shallow; she was grown enough to know the difference between what was real and what wasn’t.

  And her desire for Shane was real; beyond skin-deep or the money and power he had. She didn’t understand the most of it yet, but it was potent enough to make her confused if sh
e should stay or go.

  She wasn’t ready to walk away but she knew if she stayed any longer, she better be ready to face the consequences. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was some tease.

  Do it, Angela, her body told her.

  It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just hot, wild sex. Here on the desk, on the floor – against the wall if they could manage it. Heaven knew she’d been without for so long and besides; she’d never felt this height of arousal even at the best of times. But with Shane, her hormones were off the roof. She didn’t think she’d be able to fight him off if he persisted.

  Angela stuck out her elbows as she tried to balance herself up on them, and somehow managed to knock the tumbler off the desk. The resounding crash sounded like thunder in the darkened room.

  Shit! Angela thought, even as Shane stiffened on top of her.

  For a second, all her brain could register was that the thickness of him was nudging long and hard against her thigh even through his pants. She shivered with want, only to feel the loss of his heat and solidness when he suddenly moved off her.

  He swore harshly, spinning to face the window, pushing open the blinds and resting his forehead against the cold pane as he seemed to struggle to catch his breath.

  The length of his body was outlined in the moonlight streaking into the otherwise dim room. The rigidness in each muscle in his back was defined beneath the thin fabric of his dress shirt.

  “You need to go,” he said gruffly, not looking back at her.

  Angela scrambled off the desk, trembling hands tying her sash more snugly. She ran her hand through her now tousled hair. “Shane, I...”

  “Go,” he repeated, his harsh tone making her jump. “Please. Before I change my mind.”

  Angela backed away slowly until she got to the door. Without a peep, she fled the silent, charged and dark study.

  Chapter Eight

  Angela needed a cool drink after her run. It was the morning after, and she’d woken early to go jogging to clear her head. She’d hardly had any sleep and even when she had, it had been filled with steamy dreams and fantasies.

  Once, she even imagined she saw the handle of her bedroom door turn, as if someone wanted to come in. But it was just her mind playing tricks on her, conjuring hopes that Shane had indeed changed his mind and had come up to continue from where he’d left off in the study. Besides, her bedroom door was always locked securely.

  She’d woken up with her thoughts in a whirl. Emotions and sensations she’d never expected filled her heart for Shane. But he’d warned her from day one not to fall in love with him. Not that she thought this was love. It was just the ‘situation’; all the enigma that surrounded him plus the proximity they had to share as they played lovers.

  She’d put in her quarter mile distance for the morning, and was now thirsty as hell. She traipsed over to the kitchen which was empty. She had her ass in the air and her head in the fridge, when she felt his presence behind her.

  She straightened quickly to the sound of a stifled groan and turned to find Shane standing at the doorway. Half of her wanted to fly to him and be crushed in his warm embrace which would match the unguarded heat in his eyes at that moment. But then he pushed his fingers through his hair that tumbled over half of the scarred side of his face.

  “I apologize if I startled you,” he said calmly enough, though he let out a harsh breath as he added, “I thought you’d be gone by now. Or at least thinking about it, especially after last night. I’m sorry about that too. There you were simply trying to be a friend and I was being an ass as usual.”

  Angela wanted to lighten the air. “You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she teased. “Besides, we had a deal.”

  His lips tilted in a relieved smile. “Yeah. We did.”

  Angela shifted on her feet. Wished he wasn’t looking at her like he’d readily devour her. She’d worn her form-fitting running gear in lemon green with black tights. The weather was cool outside for September but she’d managed to work up a sweat. She felt a droplet of perspiration slip down her jawline to slither down in between her cleavage, gathered up by the tight neckline of her top. She noticed Shane watching that one bead of sweat and her breath caught in her throat.

  But Angela had been thinking and had figured a way out of this constant state of awareness. Shane had said it himself; she’d been trying to be friendly. That’s what they needed to do. Be friends. Get to know each other better.

  “I need to go up and shower,” she said lightly, “But I was thinking, when I come down that maybe we could chill. You know, maybe try out that fine-looking chess set I saw in the library.”

  Angela wondered where she found the audacity. She fully expected Shane to tell her to go to hell. And yet he didn’t.

  “Yeah; we could chill,” he replied. And then he grinned, transforming his face from handsome to devastating.

  Whoa.

  His eyes lit up so bright when he did that; and he had the nicest, whitest teeth she’d ever seen. What her friends would call a panty-dropping smile.

  Thankfully, her hormones could be kept well in check even though it was damned hard to keep Shane at arm’s length.

  The sexual tension would always be there, simmering beneath the surface. But at least they could have something else going for them while the arrangement lasted. So when he agreed to meet her in the library in half an hour for a chess match, she returned his smile and then flounced quickly from the kitchen before he could change his mind.

  Angela wore a simple pair of pants and a top after a brisk shower. Her hair was done up in a ponytail and she couldn’t help a little vanity as she glossed on some lip color and mascara. When she went down, she had a stupid smile on her face.

  Damn but the girl’s got it bad, she thought self-deprecatingly as she opened the door of the library and felt relief to see Shane waiting by the antique chess set.

  She didn’t expect Shane to be anything less than a master chess player. Turned out she was right. Thank goodness for the skills she’d learned playing with her dad from her childhood.

  Cassidy Neil had always been a man of many sides and had loved to tackle not just chess but also played jazz piano in a band when he was much younger. Angela had no musical leanings to speak of so she’d stuck with mastering chess and getting the opportunity to bond with her father while her sister preferred cooking up a storm with their mother in the kitchen until the day she left.

  “I’ll have to warn you though; I was known as a legend in my day at college,” Shane said lightly as they took position at a table he’d set for the purpose.

  Angela had to grin widely at that. “Then I can only hope to prove a worthy opponent,” she returned with a slight incline of her head. “So how was college?” she asked, hoping to learn why someone with an MBA ended up as a racecar driver.

  “Boring,” he returned with a laugh. “I was at the top of my class in high school and received a full scholarship to an Ivy League school based on that and my SAT scores. Of course, all I’d ever wanted to do was drive. My grand plan was to get a job on a pit crew right out of high school and work my way up to a driver’s position. My parents wouldn’t hear of it. We weren’t exactly dirt poor but we didn’t have spare cash to throw around either. They insisted that I take the scholarship and go to college. When I graduated I would be free to do whatever I wanted. So I did.”

  “And what did you parents think about you throwing away a college education to race cars?” She couldn’t imagine they would’ve been pleased, at least in the beginning; before the fame and the money.

  He moved a chess piece before answering. “Well, I didn’t exactly throw it all away. The money, this house, most of it comes from my business investments. I invested all of my race winnings and spokesperson fees I received from my corporate sponsors into other businesses. So as you can see my Ivy League education hasn’t been wasted after all, especially lately. So tell me about your family, Angela. How is your father doing?” He qu
ickly turned the conversation around to her.

  The atmosphere between them was light and cheerful compared to last night’s charged encounter in the study. Angela was a strong chess player but found herself rightly tested by the more intensely strategic Shane. Angela didn’t care how many times she lost; she was happy seeing Shane relax for once.

  He was in his element while he played, sometimes letting her think she had a fighting chance and then...well, it turned out to be a somewhat brutal trumping at his hands. He really was very competitive and he acknowledged her well executed moves.

  Angela enjoyed the fact that they could relate on an intellectual and cultural level, and it seemed like they played for hours. The more she learned about him, the more she wanted and needed to know.

  He never failed to surprise her. There was more to Shane Davis than a half-pretty, half-scarred face. It took Angela’s growling stomach for Shane to announce an end to the chess match.

  “I’m sure you’ll want to get some lunch,” he said lightly, rising to his feet. “I’m not that hungry so I hope you’ll excuse me while I make a few calls.”

  Angela felt bereft that they couldn’t spend more time together. She really would’ve liked to have had lunch with him. As if reading her mind, he suggested catching up with her later when he was done in a couple of hours. Angela wanted to kick herself for the girlish pleasure she felt at his willingness to share her company.

  It was a big old house after all, and neither Bess nor Linda worked on the weekends. Usually Angela spent time by herself, calling friends and family, watching a movie or reading. But she couldn’t help being fascinated by Shane and she told herself the more time she spent with him, the better she could handle her ‘girlfriend’ role especially as they drew so close to the time they were to visit his parents.

  Angela didn’t want to think about that upcoming event, because she knew that it would signal the conclusion of their contract. Once they convinced his mother that he was truly healing both physically and psychologically, he wouldn’t need a fake girlfriend. And if he ever did, he could easily find himself another one. Maybe one for real.