“I can’t lie like it’s nothing,” I protested. “Maybe I was wrong about what I c—”
“Shut up.” His mouth covered mine in a furious kiss. The heat singed my lips. I struggled to breath, but he held me close, locking my body against his.
I squirmed free, heaving for air, but he pulled me into his chest, his lips crashing into mine a second time.
“Don’t you think I want this to be real?” His eyes darted back and forth. “Don’t you think I want you to wear my ring? To be my wife?”
“Wait. What?” I needed to hear it again. Every word he breathed.
“I want the same reality you do.”
“You do?” I whispered.
“Yes. But it sure as hell isn’t going to be like this. It’s not going to be while we’re trying to figure things out. It’s not going to be because I’m in the middle of a job. I wouldn’t do it like this.
“And it’s going to be something you remember. Something you can tell our grandchildren about. I’m sorry if I hurt you tonight.” He brought the ring to his mouth, kissing my fingers. “I thought if I downplayed it, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I don’t want it to be a big deal until I can give you exactly what you want. And I know this isn’t it. I knew the instant I chucked the ring across the room I fucked it up.”
“You did?” His mouth feathered over my knuckles.
“Yeah. I was a dick, wasn’t I?”
I nodded. “That’s a nice way to put it.” I twisted my lips together.
“How do I make it right, Em?”
“Why don’t you tell me more about the job.”
He blinked. I had surprised him. “That’s not a good idea.”
“You said we have to pretend to be married in case I bump into the mark. Wouldn’t it help if I knew who that was?”
He chuckled. “Nice try. All you have to do is be Mrs. Leo Birch when we’re in public. It shouldn’t matter who we are with, the story is the same.”
There was a thought I hadn’t considered. I was finally getting used to being Kate Walker, and she was already moving on to being Kate Walker Birch. I didn’t know how I was supposed to keep everything straight. The lies were continuing to pile up. More compromises I had to make.
I pulled my hand from him, crossing my arms. “Who said I’m the kind of woman who would change her last name? Maybe I want to keep my name. I have a JD as Emily Charles.”
His eyebrows rose. “It’s just for the cover story, babe. You think it matters to me if we share the same last name
? Names are meaningless to me. You know that. You’re picking a fight with me about something that doesn’t matter because you’re still mad.”
I peered at him. “I’m not. Everything is ok.”
“I don’t think it is.” His hands slid to my back. He found the zipper to the little black dress. He began to unzip it, sliding the straps from my shoulders.
“Tonight sucked,” I admitted. It wasn’t the way either of us wanted to spend a night celebrating.
“I’ll fix it,” Vaughn volunteered. His lips touched my shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me, Em.”
“I’m not.” I reveled in how quickly the anger faded and was replaced by something stronger. Something more powerful.
“But you were,” he growled.
I nodded, yielding to his hands as they stripped the fabric from my hips. I rose forward, stepping out of the dress. I was wearing French lingerie. Something lacy and sheer Vaughn had purchased for my travel wardrobe. It was supposed to be the perfect complement to the dress and the boots.
“I was.”
He shifted me until I was seated on the couch. He dropped to his knees in front of me. His fingertips curled under my bottom, sliding me toward him. He blew a warm breath across my panties.