Fake Engagement, Real Temptation

And there it was. That challenge. That poke at her pride.

Can’t handle it? Oh hell no.

She wouldn’t let him see how his ditching her had ripped her chest in half.

She’d handle the shit out of dinner and out of this whole week, and then she’d handle her life. But that didn’t mean she wanted to sit across a table from her ex and his new woman. And she was just about to say something along those lines when Kevin spoke again.

“I need to talk to you about the upcoming reveal of my latest piece for the gallery.” He paused, and she knew he was watching her squirm. “Unless you’d rather I wait until last minute, when we get back to Denver?”

Last minute.

Two words she hated.

Because Kevin had pulled the “last minute, I’m an artist, don’t contain my brilliance to a schedule” crap before, and it had messed up her world royally. Once, he’d threatened to pull a piece of art twenty minutes before a major buyer was due to come. A buyer that had signed an intent-to-buy with Kevin and would have landed the gallery in hot water with breach of contract. Kevin had also “last minute” not shown up when the doors were set to open to display his art.

So, no, she didn’t want to wait until last minute.

But one thing at a time.

First, dinner.

“Dinner sounds great,” she lied.

“Excellent, we’ll meet you at The Scene at seven.”

The Scene was the outdoor restaurant and bar at the resort. It was big and looked out over the ocean. The tables were set up on the sand, but between the strung-up twinkling lights and sounds of the waves crashing only yards away, it was remote and fancy. Gotta love all-inclusive, after all.

She did her best to smile as Kevin walked off with Wendy, then she glanced at Blake.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said. And God, did she know it.

“Can’t hurt too bad since I’ve already been burned,” she countered.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” he said, and touched her shoulder. She didn’t shy away like she had from Kevin a minute ago.

“That’s why I’m doing this,” she said, turning to face Blake. “I’m faking it until I make it, isn’t that the plan?”

Blake grinned. “You are a pretty good faker.”

She blushed. He was right. But as long as he didn’t know there was something she didn’t fake today, then this was still pretend, still kept at bay. She could control herself. Maybe.

“Do you have it in you for one more show tonight?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m your man.”

She smiled, and he walked her back to her room. Their room. Now she needed something to wear, and she had just the thing.

…

“What was wrong with that one?” Blake called, sitting on the decorative chair in the corner of the master bedroom while clothes flew out of the closet.

“It’s too cutesy,” Carrie called from inside the closet, another outfit flying out as if the material were toxic.

“And cutesy is bad?” Blake asked.

“Ah, yeah!” she yelled.

He just wove his fingers together, put them behind his head, and leaned back in the chair. He was ready for dinner, but he was also a guy. Which meant he had no clue about what it took for a woman to get ready.