From Fake to Forever (Newlywed Games 2)

Janelle folded her napkin and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you at the Garment Center gala tonight, right?”

“I don’t know. What is it?”

“Samantha was supposed to invite you. I told her to send you an email with the details.” Janelle looked annoyed. “Hurst House is a supporter of Save the Garment Center and there’s a fund-raiser tonight. Avery Lynhurst—oh, she’s the vice president of Marketing, if you haven’t met her yet—is running the event and she wants all employees there. It makes her look good.”

What better place to get in front of Jason’s sister than a social event? And as a brand-new Hurst House employee, all the more reason to make sure she met everyone in attendance.

And it was a fashion-industry event that she got to attend. The thought made her downright cheerful.

“I’ll be there,” Meredith pledged and watched Janelle as she left the lunchroom.

As soon as Janelle was out of sight, she called Jason, who answered on the first ring.

“You have news, I trust?” he asked shortly, and the undercurrent said she was interrupting him, so she better make it good.

“There’s an event tonight,” she murmured softly in case anyone was listening in. “A Garment Center thing. Avery’s going to be there, so I am, too. It’s an opportunity to chat with her without raising any alarms.”

“Excellent.” Jason’s voice warmed. “I’d forgotten about the gala, but you’re right, it’s perfect.”

“There’s one problem. I don’t have anything to wear.”

“That’s the exact opposite of a problem,” he said drily. “It so happens I know a couple of people in the evening-wear business. I’ll swing by your hotel at six.”

“You don’t know what size I wear.”

“Sweetheart, I’m a Lynhurst and that’s plain insulting. Trust me,” he advised with a chuckle. “See you tonight.”

And that promise alone got her through the afternoon with Allo, the master of terror.

By tonight, she’d be one step closer to getting Jason’s signature on the divorce papers. Then she could go back to Houston and get started on the rest of her grown-up life.

That had always been the plan. It should still be the plan. But she feared she’d spend the rest of her life dreaming of the man she’d divorced and continue to date lackluster men who couldn’t begin to compare.

How had getting a man’s signature on a piece of paper complicated everything so much?

Four

Jason pounded on the door of Meredith’s hotel room for the fourth time and juggled the zipped garment bags. Again. When had he become an errand boy for a woman who’d probably never owned a clock in her life?

Enough was enough. He’d said six. It was six-oh-seven and Meredith had given him a key. And all the clothes he’d brought were heavy. If he didn’t let himself in, they’d be late to the gala, and it would be more difficult to enter separately, keeping up the ruse that they didn’t know each other.

But what if she was in the shower or blow-drying her hair in a little satin robe? One or the other was the most likely reason she hadn’t heard his many knocks.

That decided it.

It would serve her right to gain an audience if she was naked in the bathroom. A guy could hope.

Bobbling the garment bags until his fingers closed around the card key in his pocket, he cleared the threshold and dumped his cargo on the bed. His wife strolled from the bathroom at the same moment, clad in nothing but a skimpy towel, revealing miles and miles of legs and toned arms.

All that bare skin seared his retinas. The full force of her slammed into the backs of his knees, weakening them dangerously. It was one thing to barge into a hotel room on the possible assumption the female occupant might be undressed; it was another to get his wish.

His tongue went numb and every drop of blood in his body drained into the instant bulge in his pants.

How could he have walked away from that in Vegas? He couldn’t tear his gaze from her and a half whimper, half growl crawled out of his throat before he could stop it.

She didn’t even have the grace to look startled or embarrassed.

“Hey, you,” she called and pulled some frothy concoction of lace from her suitcase without censor, like men appeared in her bedroom unannounced on a regular basis.

Maybe they did. He frowned. Why did that thought make the back of his throat feel as if it was on fire?

“Uh, hey.” He cleared his throat as she slid a foot into the sexy panties.

Instantly, he whirled to face the window. Apparently she intended to get dressed as if he wasn’t even here. And what had he expected when he’d cavalierly charged into her room?