From Friend to Fake Fiancé

Pulling in a breath and trying to focus on the task Jenna had sent him out for, Mac turned back toward the lobby. If Braden continued to be unreachable and Shane forced their hand, Mac wouldn’t be able to hold Ryker back much longer.

And, in all honesty, Mac wasn’t so sure he wanted to. Legitimacy be damned.

Eight

“I really need to get back to working on the flowers.”

Not bothering to even slow down, Mac laced his fingers with Jenna’s and kept walking down the beach. “You didn’t come to bed until three this morning because you were working.”

Well, that was true, but she’d also been avoiding going to bed because she was having a difficult time lying there beside such temptation. The fewer hours the better. The warmth of his body next to hers was something she could get used to and that was a major problem.

“I have yet to start on the largest arrangements and the wedding is in three days.”

She risked a glance to see if he was going to respond, but he just kept walking in that sexy, I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world kind of way. Without a shirt. With all those glorious, tanned muscles clenching with each step and strut.

And he was totally oblivious to the fact that he stole her breath and made her heart quicken.

Jenna blinked and focused on looking ahead. While Mac had all the confidence in the world, she tugged on her strapless cover-up once more to avoid a wardrobe malfunction. Mac had suggested they head to the beach to “be seen” so she’d thrown on the only bathing suit she’d packed, because it was the only one she owned. Clearly swimwear was designed by the devil and a host of supermodels.

The cover-up helped, though. As long as she kept her shield in place, she didn’t feel so...exposed.

“Stop fidgeting,” he commanded. “You look fine.”

Great. She looked fine and he looked delicious.

“C’mon,” he said, tugging her toward the water’s edge. “Let’s cool off.”

Jenna pulled her hand free. “Go ahead. I’ll just sit here.”

She sank onto the sand, shoving her toes into the warmth. When Mac stood in front of her, blocking the sun, she eased back on her hands and stared up at him.

“Come in the water with me.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Go on ahead.”

When he took a seat next to her, Jenna continued to stare out at the ocean through the tinted lenses of her sunglasses. They’d only seen one other couple walking along the beach. It was still early and the weather was perfect. Everything about Bora Bora, this wedding, the ambiance, was perfect. What wasn’t perfect was the turmoil rolling inside her. Maybe Martin had gotten the hint and was going to leave her alone. Maybe she and Mac didn’t have to be quite so touchy-feely in public.

Because her body still tingled from the table experience.

Mac’s hand brushed along her shoulder, smoothing her hair away from her back and over the other shoulder. “Take off the cover-up, Jenna.”

Stiffening beneath his touch, letting his husky words wash over her, Jenna’s refusal was on the tip of her tongue.

“I know you’re not comfortable,” he went on, his tone low and soft. “But you’re one sexy woman. You’re made like women should be, Jen. All those curves.”

He palmed her back as he leaned in closer. “You make a man think of things he shouldn’t.”

A shiver racked her body. “You’re delusional.”

“No, I’m honest.”

Jenna glanced his way, her hair falling over her shoulder, the ends tickling her bare thigh. “You don’t need to say pretty words, Mac. I only needed you to pretend.”

Mac jerked off his sunglasses, then hers, and looked her dead in the eye. “You think I’m just saying this to make you feel good? I’ve always thought you were sexy, Jenna. That’s never been a question.”

Yeah, well, clothes could camouflage quite a bit.

Mac slid his hand down, his fingers curling around the elastic on the top of her cover-up. Jenna jerked.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “Let me.”

Closing her eyes, she waited for him to pry her security blanket down. She hated this. Hated knowing she would be exposed in seconds. No, she’d never worn a swimsuit around him. She rarely put a suit on, period. Why was he doing this? To prove he could?

“Mac.” Her plea came out as a whisper.