Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

“So, let me help. I’ll cook dinner and be charming, and when the night is over, you’ll have your library funds. I’ll even help you fix up those little things around your house.”

“Are you for real?”

“Like am I an alien?”

Or angel, I thought. “Yes.”

“You’ve seen me naked, what do you think?” He waggled his brows.

“We’re not supposed to think about that. We’re just friends, remember.”

His face feigned seriousness. “Oh yeah. Friends.”

As I considered his offer and what was at stake, I had to agree that it was a small little fib for one night that could help Salvation children for years. If I was truly committed to the project, I could suck it up for one night.

“Okay. One dinner.”

He grinned. “I feel like I’ve finally made it in this town. I’ve joined the fake married club.”

I laughed. “Glad to help initiate you.”

“You’re the only one I’d want to be fake married to.” He rubbed his hands together like he was ready to get to work. “So, how does this work?”

I had no idea how to pull off a fake marriage.

But we forged forward with the plan. Unfortunately, as Tucker came over to help fix up a few things at my home over the weekend, I was sure trying to have a fake marriage was a bad idea. Still, I had to appreciate that he was one-hundred percent committed to pulling it off. He planned a beef and potatoes dinner, chose the wine, and worked as a handyman in my home. He could truly do it all. He didn’t need a wife at all, except I guess for sex.

Speaking of sex, he was true to his word in that he didn’t try any funny business. He didn’t even speak in code or innuendo about sex. Each night when he left for his own home, I was left annoyed and frustrated. For one, for someone who said he wanted to date me, he didn’t seem to have any trouble acting like “just a friend.” The fact that his friends-only attitude hurt and annoyed me, pissed me off. My whole goal was for him to not like me as more than a friend, so why was I so disappointed that he’d given up trying? Seriously, there was something wrong with me.

Then of course, having his sexy body and charming smile around all day in those jeans that hugged his squeezable ass made my hormones go haywire. Each night when he left, I was

a ball of sexual frustration. My first stop was into a warm bath with hot oils and a waterproof vibrator to take the edge off. I was going to combust or go mad before this dinner was over, I was sure.

9

Tucker

I was doing my best to be “just friends” while planning a fake marriage with Holly. But it was fucking hard. She was clueless in the kitchen and in home fixit, which only solidified my stance that she needed me around. And I did want to be around. She was smart and funny. She was strong and yet had a vulnerability that brought out a need in me to protect her. Of course, if I told her that, her strong side would have balked.

And she was so pretty. Thank God my hands were busy, because every time I saw her, I wanted to run my fingers through her thick strawberry curls. I wanted to use my hands to discover every inch of her body. I left her house each night over the weekend with blue balls. When I got home, the first thing I did was shove my jeans down and jerk off.

The night of the dinner, I left school and went home to shower, shave again, and put on slacks, a button shirt, and a tie. This was a dinner to make money for the library, so I wanted to look sharp.

Then I drove to Holly’s parking my car next to hers in the drive so it looked like I lived there.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” I said when she answered the door.

She had that same look on her face as she did each day that I’d come by to help her get the place fixed up; a mixture of terror and panic.

“We’re gonna be fine,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. She flinched. “It’s showtime,” I told her. “I’m a very attentive husband.” I walked past her to the kitchen, mostly so I wouldn’t press her up against the door and fuck her right there.

I’d bought groceries for the dinner the other day, so I just pulled everything out and started cooking.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” she asked as she poured wine for each of us.

“My mom was adamant that I’d be an alpha male with a sensitive side. That means I can kick someone’s ass and cry at movies.”

She laughed. “You’re definitely unique.”