The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

I end the call before Lucy has any time to protest and toss my phone into my little clutch. I swing my peach booty all the way out of the bathroom, ready to leave a trail of smoking tracks in my wake. Drew can kick me out of his house for all I care, and this prank I have planned tonight isn’t even worth it anymore. To be honest, I’ve been rethinking it all week. It’s settled—I’d rather be woken up every single morning by Levi than let Drew see me in this dress.

I open the bathroom door and leave the sterile florescent lighting to step into the warm opulence of wealth. Oh my gosh, I’m the pregnant version of Pretty Woman right now. I feel my mortification rising as eyes land on me when I attempt to gracefully glide my way to the front doors. I feel exposed and embarrassed as I try to avoid eye contact with everyone I pass. Why are they staring? Seriously, it feels like everyone is staring. I want to cry. No, I am going to cry.

And then, I see him.

Across the room, an entire ballroom length away, I spot Drew standing just inside the entrance. Holy handsome, Batman. Do they have stylists on call at the hospital, just waiting to turn doctors into red carpet celebrities at the drop of a hat? Of course the first thing I notice is Drew’s hair. It’s styled with a satin sheen pomade and waving away from his face in a wonderfully tousled look that somehow perfectly matches my own retro vibe. At first, I think he’s Cary Grant to my Doris Day. But then my eyes trail the length of his muscular body encapsulated in a tight, well-cut navy—almost black—suit that looks so fabulously out of place among all these other stuffy suits, and I realize we are the rebels at this event. He’s the James Dean to my Marylin Monroe.

Drew looks tall, lean, and powerful while casually talking with someone who stopped him near the door. I don’t think this man even knows the meaning of insecurity, because he’s never needed to feel it. He’s everything everyone wants—everything I want.

It’s official. I’m out of here.

I look around, frantically trying to find a menu or something I can hold in front of my face, but there’s nothing. Nada. What’s a girl got to do to find a tall fern or ficus to stand behind? How about a heavy drape? Damn those BBC shows filling my head with improbable nonsense. They always have a plethora of ferns to conceal themselves with.

When I look up again, Drew is already staring at me. Caught. Even from all the way over her

e, I can tell he is completely ignoring the man jabbering his ear off. Drew’s gaze zeroes in on me and runs from my hair to my toes—so intense I feel his eyes as if they were his hands.

Goose bumps trickle down my bare arms when his eyes meet mine again, and a slow smile spreads across his mouth. His head ticks side to side as if to say, You would. He breaks eye contact with me long enough to disengage himself from the man beside him, and then his gaze is back, locked on me as he walks across the ballroom.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I’m thankful I’m in a room full of doctors so they can resuscitate me when Drew Marshall’s sexy stare makes me pass out.

As he gets closer, I feel myself teetering forward, wanting to run over, wrap my arms around his neck, and trail kisses down his clean-shaven jaw. Easy, Jessie. You’re on a mission tonight. Poor Drew, he’s completely oblivious to the trap he’s unknowingly walking right into, the trap I set the moment he presented this idea of me posing as his girlfriend. Tonight is my chance to even the score after he left me high and dry in front of my grandaddy (yes, I know said grandaddy didn’t show—details, details), and I’ll squash my growing feelings. Just because he’s sexy as sin tonight and I may or may not be developing feelings for him doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon my plans. It means I need to double down on them.

Drew stops right in front of me, and I try not to let my knees buckle. I have never been more nervous in my life.

“You’re late,” I say, in a voice I hope doesn’t betray the way I’m trembling.

Drew shocks every nerve ending in my body when his mouth forms a half-smile and his hand rises to lightly slide the tips of his fingers along the waves of my hair, brushing my temple and cheek and then falling all the way down the length of my arm. His hand stops to lock with mine, and instinctively, my fingers close around his in a possessive, primal grip that I’m not proud of. They say the first rule in retail is to convince a customer to hold the object they are interested in, because their brain will subconsciously claim it as theirs. Apparently, the principle also applies to humans. Drew feels like mine now.

He leans forward, his smooth jaw brushing against my face as he whispers, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

His raspy, quiet, meant-only-for-me voice tears its way through my fragile emotions and wrecks me in the process. Drew pulls back but hovers closer to my face than we’ve ever been. I could bump his nose with mine. I smell his masculine cologne, see the black flecks in his navy eyes, feel a string pulling tight between our mouths. I could tip forward just the slightest bit and our lips would touch. They need to touch.

I thank my lucky stars when a voice calls out from beside us and slices our moment in half. “Dr. Marshall!”

Drew and I pull apart, but he doesn’t let me remove my hand from his. He introduces me to his female colleague who interrupted us. Dr. Susan Landry is her name, and I think I’m supposed to know who she is, but my mind just says, Blah, blah, blah, Drew’s hand feels so good in my hand. What a manly hand he has. I want to hold it up to my face and stare at it. It’s a big hand, which every woman knows only adds to the allure of a man.

Wow, how long have I been thinking about Drew’s hands? A while, I suspect, because now both Drew and Dr. Landry are looking at me and I’m not sure what to say. I blink at the woman. “So sorry. Pregnancy brain. I missed what you said.”

She laughs, and her kind smile is disarming. I relax a little. “I was just saying I’m so happy to meet Drew’s girlfriend! He’s talked so much about you this past week.”

Yeah, that’s jarring to hear. Surprisingly, it’s not unpleasant, but definitely jarring. I look up at Drew and see the slightest widening of his eyes. Apparently, I speak Drew’s eye language now, because I understand that this is the one we are meant to be in a fake relationship for.

Keeping my hand locked with Drew’s, I take the other and wrap it around his bicep, leaning into him and hugging his arm. And GEEZ DREW. He has a ridiculous muscle under here. I’m definitely distracted by how my body is reacting to Drew’s body right now, but I press on with a polite smile and begin to set my trap.

“Only this past week, baby? Well, I guess you would have more to talk about since we finally moved in together.”

Dr. Landry’s eyebrows rise. “Oh wow. That’s serious. Congratulations you two. But I guess you have even more to be congratulated on besides a housewarming.” Her eyes fall to my stomach, and for some reason, Drew and I never discussed how to handle this part of the ruse. My instinct says he would want me to make sure everyone knows it’s not his child, but guess what, bud? You stood me up, and it’s time to pay.

I rub my belly and stare up at him like my entire universe dangles off his pinky. “Thank you. I hope the baby has Drew’s eyes. I’ve never seen a blue so deep.”

Drew’s face goes a little pale and his arm stiffens beneath my touch. Oops! Did your lie just get a little more complicated, Drewsky-Woosky?

He smiles tensely. “Not sure how that will be possible,” he says with a slight chuckle, clearly trying to let our dear Susan know he’s not about to become a biological father.

I also know from the time I’ve spent around Drew since Lucy and Cooper have become an item that he despises PDA. Every time they kiss or snuggle, Drew grimaces.

Which is why I sidle up even closer and nuzzle his earlobe with the tip of my nose (and for the record, I have zero problems with PDA, but this is even making me nauseated). “Stop trying to keep your hopes down. Babies end up with their daddy’s eyes all the time.”