Fake Marriage Box Set

"No kidding," I muttered, stepping inside. The polished tile under my feet was Travertine, and for a wild moment, I wished I had worn fancier shoes.

Penn chuckled. "The first floor is basically a giant foyer. There are a few seating areas, but it's mostly about the view."

He wasn't kidding. The panoramic view of San Francisco Bay was captivating, but my eyes kept sliding back to Penn. He was bulkier and heavier-muscled than any other man I had found attractive. But the soft cling of his worn T-shirt revealed a flat stomach and narrow waist. He was fit and firm, and my mouth kept going dry.

"The next floor down is the dining hall. It's flanked by a butler's pantry and a separate bar with the best views of Treasure Island." Penn laid a wide hand at the small of my back and led me through the priceless artwork and elegant interior design of the first floor to a curving staircase.

I stopped at the top of the stairs and willed my body not to sway as Penn's arm curved around my waist. "And, what's on the next floor below that?" I asked.

"The living room, the music room, the first of the guest rooms," Penn said. "Or would you rather just go see the apartment above the garage?"

His dark eyes showed flecks of gold as he took a step down and came level with me. The electrical realization that his lips were just inches from mine made my brain short circuit. I imagined us falling in the door of the small garage apartment, my hands tugging hard to pull his shirt over his wide shoulders. The wild, unbidden idea of testing my teeth against his taut muscles made me sway.

Penn's hands automatically caught my waist and steadied me. As I reached out and caught his shoulders, the gold in his eyes burned brighter. I felt his fingers flex around my waist. All I had to do was lean forward, and our lips would meet. I caught my breath and tore my gaze away from his eyes.

"It's just, ah, your boss's place is spectacular," I said.

Penn shrugged and turned down the staircase. "And, you've only seen the top floor."

The weight of my disappointment pushed me down the stairs after him. I was glad he walked in front of me because my cheeks blazed again. I could have sworn his question was more an invitation, but what if I was wrong? Penn probably saw me as some silly blonde he would never bother with if I hadn't needed help.

I crinkled up my nose and balled my fists. The women that Penn found attractive were probably outgoing, confident, and strong. I was none of those things. I was snobby when nervous, insecure, and tripping all over myself around him.

As we stepped down onto the next floor, I smoothed back my silken curls. Penn might think he was better than me, but that didn't mean I was unattractive. I tugged down my dress and tossed my hair. If he thought he could dismiss me, then I would have to show him I didn't care. Men always wanted women who didn't want them.

"So, what's your boss like?" I asked.

The question sparked a reddish hue in his dark brown eyes. "My boss? He only loves the best of the best," Penn snarled.

"And yet he lets you work here?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

Penn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, very funny. I never said he loved me."

"Your boss?" I was thrown off-balance.

"I hardly ever come here," Penn said. "Normally, I live at my own place down in Monterey. I'm more of a free-agent these days."

His phone rang, and Penn swore. I sauntered over to the sparkling view and let him take it.

"Yes, I got your message. Yes, I'm here. Of course you're going to be late," Penn's answers were curt. "Yes, boss."

I didn't want Penn to think I was listening in on his conversation, so I pulled out my phone. Tom had charged it as promised, and I was able to check my messages. The first one was a quick message asking if I had seen all of Penn's tattoos yet. Attached to it was a raunchy cartoon of a girl swooning over a tattooed strong man whose chest muscles danced. I laughed out loud.

"Yes, someone is with me. So, don't worry, I am staying here tonight after all," Penn said.

"Sorry," I said after he hung up his phone. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble with your boss."

"Not at all," he smiled. "How about I show you the apartment now? We can call it a night."

My heart dropped, and all the heat left my body. Penn had used me to play out some kind of spat with his employer. Now his boss, obviously a well-to-do billionaire, thought I was letting Penn do unspeakable things to me all over his expensive, custom furniture.

The thought that I would have let Penn do those things left me cold. Now that I knew I had just been a pawn in his little scheme to get back at his boss, I lost my nervousness.

Penn slid open a glass door and led the way out onto a stone terrace. "We can walk back up through the gardens," he said.

I shivered but followed him out into the brisk, bay air. Fog curled around Alcatraz below us and obscured the far side of the bay. The lights of Berkeley were barely visible, and I wrapped my arms around myself to stay warm. It was annoying how comfortable Penn looked. Inside, he seemed tense, but in the fresh air, his tense sho

ulders released.