Fake Engagement, Real Temptation

“You’re going to need vacation clothes,” she said.

He held up his pack. The one he’d run out to the car to get after she’d slapped a ticket at him.

“I have a change of clothes and my ID, all I need.”

Of course. The man could fashion a McDonalds out of sandpaper and a smile.

“Welcome to the happy newlyweds!” a cheery voice rang out from the stewardess who came to stare them down. “I’m told you just got married,” she said, looking extra long at Blake then taking in the fact that Carrie was wearing her “honeymoon” dress. Crap, they did look like a couple. A fancy couple.

The stewardess leaned down and whispered, “You know, we have two seats available in first class if you’d like for your trip. For the honeymooners.” She winked.

Carrie opened her mouth to correct the situation. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Used to such kindness,” Blake interrupted, and cupped her knee. “We’d love to upgrade. Thank you so much,” he said to the stewardess, then turned to Carrie. “Come on, sweetheart.”

The word sounded like it pained him. She’d never known Blake to have a girlfriend, much less use endearments. Unless “little girl” counted. Which she told herself it didn’t. Even if it did give her chest the tingles.

So what was he trying to pull by

posing as newlyweds? She frowned, ready to ask him just that, when he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You want to be spontaneous? To have your fantasy? Then I’m going to help you get it.”

The stewardess was watching to escort them to their news seats. What was Blake—?

He kissed her earlobe. The stewardess smiled. Carrie couldn’t back out now. She also couldn’t deny how the zing of Blake’s lips on her ear left her all…tingly.

She had no choice but to follow him to first class.

…

Nine days. Blake was going to be with Carrie for nine days. Which shouldn’t be so bad. But as she sashayed her tight little ass into the first-class seat next to his, he was having a hard time focusing on the fact that his mission was to protect and comfort her. Not picture her naked. Not “comfort” her with his arms—mouth—and “protect” her from an orgasm-free day. His enemy would be the distance between her mouth and his, and he would not stop until—

Damn it, now he was worked up again and doing GI Joe commentary in his head.

But this mission really was hard—in a lot of ways. And not entirely his fault. Seriously, how could any man look at her and not want her?

He’d heard her conversation with her friend on the phone. Saw the way she looked at the happy family getting on the plane. He also knew Carrie. She wanted love and a family and to watch the cooking channel while baking pies for her children. She was successful in her own right, working at a gallery in the city, but Carrie had always loved the idea of love.

Blake knew this.

He couldn’t give her any of that.

But he could give her that fantasy she was after. He could help keep her sadness at bay and play the part of a hero, if only to really let her experience what an adventure was.

He had plenty of experience with first-class everything. From the endless countries he’d traveled to for VIP-guided hunting and excursion tours, to bumping elbows with the “elite” at various clubs, islands, and resorts, he was no stranger to lavish adventures. And he wanted Carrie to have that, for at least this week. That he could do.

He glanced at her while she adjusted her dress and wiggled in her seat.

The woman was all curves and soft skin, and the dress was doing nothing to hide either of those truths, because the lace clung to her perfect shape.

Yeah, this was a problem.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked, playing on her assessment of him earlier. Because he didn’t want her thinking she was anything less than stunning, but he couldn’t hold out looking at her in that dress. His goal was to give her a fantasy, not realize she might be his.

She glanced down the front of herself. “Of course I do. I just checked them.”

Ah yes. In that massive suitcase.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, likely knowing the answer.