So Much Trouble: Bad Boy Forbidden Love Romance Collection (So Wrong It's Right Book 4)

by Jamie Knight

  “Apology accepted.”

  Sighing, I cursed again, but this time only inside my head. This whole thing was going in a direction I didn’t like. Now, not only would I have to deal with my family, I would have Gina showing up in some sort of slinky gown that showed way too much and embarrassing me by trying to pretend to be my date and picking up on other men at the same time. What a nightmare!

  Arguing with my mother was often a no-win situation, but I had to try.

  “Why would you invite Gina, mom? Kicks and giggles?”

  “Watch your language!” Mom admonished again.

  “Which? Kicks or giggles?”

  “Neither, I know what that is a stand-in for, and it is very rude!”

  I was starting to bristle. “Ruder than inviting my ex to an awards gala in my honor?” I asked, a bit more pointedly than I should have.

  She tutted. “Don't be silly. It is time for you to stop fooling about and get serious and settle down.”

  “With Gina?”

  “I admit that she isn't all that I would have wished for you—”

  “Who is?” I asked, rubbing my temples as a headache started to form.

  “But I really think she could be good for you.”

  “Like cigarettes,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” I muttered.

  “You are thirty-nine, dear, it really is time you got married—”

  “Or I'll end up a spinster?” I snapped, feeling very done with this whole conversation.

  “Don't be silly, spinsters are women, darling.”

  “You don't say.” I rolled my eyes, knowing that she couldn’t see.

  “Gina is coming,” Mom said firmly. The conversation was done, and I had lost.

  “Fine, but don't expect me to courtesy.”

  I hung up before she could respond, knowing that it wouldn't go well if I gave her the chance to get another word in. Better to leave her confused. If I could just come up with a way to do the same with Gina, I would be golden.

  The only problem was Gina was a lot craftier than Mom, who had experience but not nearly as much guile. Gina had managed to gaslight me for the better part of two years. I suspected, of course, but she was very convincing. If she ever decided to give up her career in investments, she could have a sterling future as a super-villain.

  It was important that my ex not get the wrong idea and think I wanted her back. I would have thought my parting words to her would have made this clear, but you never know how a megalomaniac might interpret things.

  I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.

  Chapter Two - Noah

  I didn't really have any addictions per se. Habits sure but nothing that would qualify as physical dependency — except for coffee. Not just caffeine, coffee, and the stronger the better. I could get caffeine all sorts of places that didn't tend to cause paranoia and heart murmurs, but coffee just tasted so good. I jonesed for the java, and there was really nothing to be done but surrender to the dark roasted demon, lest I be unceremoniously torn asunder by pure want. When stress hit, that was when my habit came out the strongest. After talking to my mother, I needed something dark and sweet to take the edge off. Yes, a little pick me up was necessary.

  Sitting in my spacious office on the fourth floor of our red brick building, I looked at the phone still in my hand. Opening the contacts, I scrolled down until I found Jim, my boss and good friend. It really was interesting how easy technology had made it to keep in contact with people. Even in the depths of depression and worry, help was only an icon tap away.

  “Hello?”

  “Jim!” I exclaimed, putting on a false cheerfulness.

  “Noah?”

  “That's me!”

  “What happened?” Jim asked gravely, hearing right through my façade.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You need coffee,” my friend said. “I can hear the strain in your voice.”

  I smiled to myself, glad to have such a good guy right in the building with me. “Good call.”

  Luckily there was a coffee shop right next door to our law offices. I don’t know if Jim planned it that way when he bought the building. He might have. He was as much of a coffee fiend as I was.

  Java, the café, was where we frequently took our breaks from work. Sure, we could have had the coffee in the office, but going next door gave the illusion of getting away for a while and sometimes — often — that was needed.

  “I know you, man,” Jim continued. “I also know there is something else that brought this on. Meet me at the cafe in five minutes.”

  “Righto.”

  Jim was already sitting at a table in Java when I arrived, good to his word that he would be there when I was. It made sense, really. Not only did he work in the law firm, but he also co-owned it with his sister and could really come and go as he pleased.

  My boss was easy to spot among the other patrons, not only because he was one of the few wearing an expensive tailored suit, but also due to his jet-black hair and bright green eyes. With that combo, he just stood out. In all honesty, as far as appearances went, he and I were kind of opposites. I was blonde as compared to his dark hair. I was also a good deal taller.

  “English toffee cap, right?” Jim asked as I approached his table, proffering the paper take out cup my way.

  “Yeah,” I said, a bit surprised that he remembered.

  “So, spill,” he said, as I slid into a chair and took the first, calming sip. Coffee makes everything better.

  “My mother —”

  “Oh, dear,” he said.

  “That's what she said,” I smirked.

  “Come again?” Jim asked, trying not to laugh.

  “Mom likes to say that,” I explained, trying to keep things light. “She is coming to the gala for my Governor’s award.”

  He nodded. “Well, that makes sense.”

  I picked up my drink, took another sip, and nervously tapped the fingers of my right hand on the paper cup. “You haven't heard the worst of it.”

  “Sorry, please, continue.”

  “She is coming, as is my dad —”

  “Is your sister coming?” Jim asked seriously, knowing how much my whole family stressed me out.

  “Apparently.”

  “I see,” Jim said, nodding again, but he didn’t have the whole of it yet.

  “So, the whole crew is coming, and my mother invited Gina.”

  From across the table, Jim stiffened. He raised both of his eyebrows and let his mouth fall open. “No!”

  “Yes.”

  “Not good,” Jim observed, with a grimace.

  “Don't I know it. I tried to fight it but—”

  “Resistance is futile,” Jim said and then took a long sip of his coffee.

  I sat back and ran my fingers through my hair. “Exactly. So now I need to find a way to let Gina know that I'm really not interested, short of dumping a punch bowl over her head.”

  “Not big on subtly, is she?” Jim asked.

  “Nope.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, each taking long sips and letting the coffee work its magic on our brains. A bit of a smile started to play on my boss’s lips. I wondered what he was thinking. After a few more moments, he was grinning. “How about a fake fiancée?”

  “Come again?” I asked.

  Jim laughed then scooted his chair forward. “I know it sounds strange, but it can really work. You know Leo? The new guy at the office?”

  “I know of him,” I said.

  “He met his wife a similar way,” Jim explained.

  “Really?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling full of disbelief. That really couldn’t be true. What even was a fake fiancée?

  “Yeah, oddly. His wife is a good friend of mine. She needed someone to go with her to her high school reunion and hired Leo to pose as her fiancé. Apparently, he did a really good job because they ended up falling in love.”

  I sn
orted a laugh. “Oh, so they hadn't really lied as much as been chronologically challenged,” I said.

  Jim laughed too. “Pretty much, yeah,” he concurred.

  A fake fiancée, huh? Maybe the idea wasn’t crazy. Having a hot girl by my side with a ring on her finger would certainly tell Gina to back off. Then after a few weeks, I could tell my family that things went south, and hopefully, Mom would be off the Gina kick by then. It was a simple plan.

  “It's not a bad idea,” I admitted, still mulling it over.

  “Thank you.”

  “I'm just pretty sure it would break my mother's heart if she thought I got engaged without telling her,” I admitted, sighing. “She wants to know all my business.”

  “True.”

  I picked up my cup and found myself tapping on it again. “Though if it banishes Gina from this realm for all time, it might be worth it.”

  “You make her sound demonic,” Jim pointed out, raising one eyebrow in a questioning look.

  “Mom or Gina?”

  “I was thinking Gina,” Jim clarified.

  I laughed. “Can you blame me?”

  “Not really,” Jim admitted. He knew the whole story.

  “Now, I just need to find someone willing to commit an emotional fraud,” I said, getting into the idea.

  “How hard can it be?” Jim shrugged.

  Chapter Three - Emma

  I had only been a waitress at Java, the cafe near the Howell and Howell Law Firm’s building, for a few weeks. I had worked at coffee shops before back home in Hanford, but it was nothing like the fast-paced hurly-burly of big city L.A. I soon got used to it, though, especially when I figured out how the machines worked and got it down to near muscle memory. I wasn't a particularly fast learner, but when I got something I had it forever — that was basically what I told them when they had hired me here, and the manager had been really patient with me during my training. I did my best to live up to that trust.

  I didn't usually remember people very well, at least not the ones I saw briefly as customers, but I could have spotted Mr. Jim Howell from across the street in a heavy fog. Ditto for the tall, handsome friend he occasionally had with him when he came in.

  The other baristas told me that Jim Howell owned the multi-million-dollar law firm next door. He was easy to spot with his dark hair and general air of confidence. He also came into Java almost every day.

  I assumed the blue-eyed man with model-like looks was also employed at the law firm, and the hot lawyer was the star of my latest fantasies. I was thrilled when they showed up during my afternoon shift, and through eavesdropping skills worthy of a ninja spy, I gleaned that the friend's name was Noah Wells.

  I had seen some pretty good-looking men in my twenty-seven years of life, but no one had made my naughty bits tingle as much as the blonde hottie did. My imaginative was quite vivid and distinctly raunchy — especially when it came to Noah.

  I was still a virgin, but not because I wasn't interested in sex. I was just too painfully shy to respond even if a guy showed interest in me, which happened on occasion.

  After moving to L.A., I finally decided that it was a pattern that had gone on for too long. I wanted a guy, I wanted to lose my virginity, and Noah was the best candidate yet.

  It wasn't just arrogance that made me think the lawyer was interested. We hadn't exchanged many words, and none outside the context of ordering coffee, but I could see where his eyes would wander. Usually, they would end up staring at my tits, which, to be fair, were quite big. He also really seemed to like my legs, something he saw a lot of, it being Los Angeles. Short skirts were pretty much standard apparel. I had tried shorts a couple of times but couldn't really pull them off — in either sense of the word. The zippers tended to stick. Just my luck.

  Today when Jim and Noah started talking about how blondie needed someone to pretend to be his fiancée, I could hardly believe it. I knew in my gut that this was my chance. Or, at least the best chance I would get to get close to the man of my dreams. As hopeful as I could sometimes get, I was a stone-cold realist at heart. So much so, that I managed to overcome my natural shyness and walk over to the table, turning the waist of my skirt a couple of times, shortening it by several inches before I went.

  “Excuse me,” I said, as politely as I possibly could.

  “Oh, hi,” Mr. Howell said. “Emma, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied with a smile.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I, um, couldn't help but overhear that you need someone to pretend to be your fiancée, Mr. Wells, and well, I, um, would like to offer myself for the job,” I announced, trying to keep my voice steady.

  Their jaws dropped like I had just done a magic trick, and they looked at each other as though to ask, “what the fuck?”

  Both men’s expressions made me wonder if I had been stupidly bold. Nervously, I clasped my hands behind my back and fought the urge to tap my foot.

  “Seriously?” Noah asked, looking up at me with his sky-blue eyes wide.

  “Uh-huh!” I said, perhaps a bit too upbeat.

  “Wow,” Noah said, a big grin settling onto his sexy lips, “not only do I get a fake fiancée but a smokin' hot one to boot. I didn't even buy a ticket.”

  I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I blushed furiously. Though, I also couldn't keep myself from grinning at the same time. Maybe being bold was a good idea, after all.

  “How about we meet here when we both get off work?” Noah asked. “We can get to know each other a little bit better.”

  “Great idea,” I said, still a bit dizzy.

  I was buzzing for the rest of my shift — and not just from the free coffee we all guzzled when no one was looking. Noah thought he had won the lottery. I thought I had walked into a fairytale. I didn't, but I felt a great urge to pinch myself to make sure I was awake, and it had all actually happened.

  I guess I would find out how true this all was when Noah came back at five.

  Feeling really happy about my boldness, I smiled briefly at myself. I was being the person I wished I could be: strong, sexy, open, afraid of nothing. I felt another smile creeping back to the edges of my lips.

  Finishing my shift, I took off my name-tag, the only bit of identification involved in working at the Java Cafe, and sat at one of the tables, trying to act like I was just another customer even though everyone I worked with would recognize me instantly. I liked to suspend disbelief on occasion. You know, like you do. Life was a lot more fun that way.

  Noah was late. At least according to what I remembered — it could have been a beautiful waking dream, I supposed. That was a hypothesis that only seemed more likely by his absence. Just as I was about to give up on the entire concept — and with it, a tiny sliver of my sanity —Noah came in through the door, adorably flushed.

  “Sorry, work,” he grunted, hastily pulling a chair back from the table I had chosen.

  “It’s okay,” I said, resisting the urge to literally bat my eyelashes at the sexy lawyer.

  Despite having clearly just been running, Noah had yet to even break a sweat. His cheeks were flushed, as already noted, and his breaths were short, almost in a sexy, panting way, but he remained perfectly dry and smelling like his choice of cologne. Eddie Bauer's Adventurer by the smell of him.

  It was a scent that took me back to high-school and the quiet but clearly intelligent boy I sat next to in math class. I used to glance at his grades when the teacher handed back the assignments, always somewhat jealous and intrigued. The kid was a lanky, pale example of gothy geekdom who wore a black trench coat, read Proust seriously, and listened to heavy metal ironically.

  “Have you been waiting long?” Mr. Wells asked, taking off his dress coat and snapping me back into the present.

  “No, not really,” I said, averting my eyes, my natural shyness reasserting itself.

  “Good, good.” He sat and folded his legs by placing one ankle on the other’s knee.

 
We looked at each other. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure what to say, so I picked up my mug and took a sip. Noah had nothing in front of him to drink.

  “Did you order already?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  I shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Oh, no reason, really, I just have a staff discount is all.”

  “Ah,” he said and nodded his head slightly.

  It was that moment I remembered that I had heard that Mr. Wells was richer than Gates, being both a high-priced lawyer and born into a wealthy family. I felt the warmth return to my cheeks. I couldn't help it. The sudden urge to get up and leave made my chest quiver, but I decided to stick it out, lest the bravest thing I had yet done in my life be all for naught.

  “So, um, how do you want to do this?” I asked, trying to say something before my courage completely left. “I mean, the whole fake fiancée thing.”

  He scratched the sexy, blonde stubble on his chin. “I've been thinking about that. I figure it is most important to get our story straight on how we first met. It is likely to be one of the first questions we're asked. Particularly with my mother.”

  “Okay,” I said and looked at him expectantly.

  “Any ideas?”

  It became obvious that Noah wasn’t creative in the story making process. He blinked his eyes at me, looking lost.

  My mind was also blank, so I traced the handle of my coffee cup. “Um, at church?”

  “That might not go off super well,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “I attend the same church as my parents,” he pointed out. “They know everyone there and would wonder why they hadn’t seen you.”

  “Ah.”

  One of the other baristas walked over and set a steaming latte in front of Mr. Wells. She blinked at me, suspiciously raising her eyebrows. Hiding my lips behind my hand, I mouthed for her to “go away.” She giggled and walked off.

  Noah looked at me but didn’t ask any questions. His cheekbones were perfect, and I imagined carefully running my finger down the sharp line of his jaw.

  He sighed, gave a little shrug of his broad shoulders, and turned to face the front door of the café. “I suppose we could tell the truth and say that we met at work. Your work in any case.” He stopped, lifting his latte to his lips, but he didn’t take a sip. Instead, his sturdy fingers tapped a rhythm on the porcelain. “However, we might not want to say what you do.”