Dr. Stud

The helicopter banks hard to the right, thrusting all three of us against the plush bench. It crushes the air from our lungs, leaving us breathless and dizzy. Bella claps her thighs around my hand and arches her back, her mouth open in a silent cry, and suddenly I'm coming too, exploding from within, lost in a volcanic eruption, blinded.

“Thanks for bearing with me, folks,” Chad says in his practiced, smooth way. “Just going to hit the gas here and take us swiftly back toward downtown, check out what the south side is up to right now.”

Slowly I open my eyes, gradually taking in the details. The setting sun, the lights of downtown coming up. The Hancock Building is all alight, and I even make out a few dozen sailboats on the water. It’s a beautiful night, and we hang high above it, breathless and exultant.

We are together, one in pleasure and abundant beauty.

Chapter 32

Emmet

A large crowd gathers behind the velvet rope, milling around and craning their necks to see who's got the firepower to be able to rope off Buckingham Fountain for a private event.

I sort of hear their voices, churning like foamy seawater on the rocks as I walk past, presumably to check on the caterer. But as their cameras snap, dozens at a time, I feel like I've checked something off the list. I should be trending in just a few moments.

I turn my back to the crowd, shifting my weight to one hip and thrusting my hands into my pockets so that they can get a good look at my shoulders under my cotton shirt. They love this, the matinee idol idea. Already I have seen different blogs picking up stories about this romance. There have been recaps of our history of bad behavior, quotes from celebrities with opinions about my character or romance in general. Rundowns of our fashion choices and even a few tutorials on how to get Bella’s “look.” She’s usually compared to Brigitte Bardot or Julia Roberts.

It's a fairytale, just like she said. At first, I didn’t buy it. Who has that kind of willpower, to pretend to be in love just for a job? But she certainly does. Her performances are flawless. When she looks at me, I look deep into her eyes and all I see is the glow of passion. Nothing suspicious underneath. And when we’re alone, she’s someone else yet again, keeping up her end of the bargain with Dillon too. She’s hungrier than I would have expected, for us both.

It must be a hell of a job she’s trying to get. I wonder who had the idea first — Hannah or Bella?

Probably, it was Hannah. She can come up with some very cutthroat schemes when her back is to the wall. And if she’s telling the truth about Google looking down its nose at us, I can see why she would be freaked out.

But really, Hannah and I just don’t see eye to eye. She's been dissatisfied with me for a long time. With both of us. Dillon and I don't satisfy her prudish expectations, I suppose. She looks like the sort of girl who has been cheated on. Damaged goods. Bitter, somehow. Or just tainted. Who knows.

So, maybe it was Hannah’s idea, but Bella is the one who really brings the story to life. Her breathless swooning for the cameras is absolutely genius. Completely believable Cinderella tale. When she looks at me, I almost feel like…

But it’s just a fantasy. In fact, it’s a fantasy that's only got about a week and a half left in it. Shouldn’t get too caught up in the act.

Our car rolls up through the six or so security guards, just as I'm leaving the caterer’s station and walking in front of the white privacy tent. Excellent. Action shots. I hear another fifty cameras go off. I could probably jog over there or something, maybe call her name.

No. Too cartoonish.

But as soon as she emerges from the car, she's in my arms. She almost falls into me, hooking her arms underneath mine, pressing up on those long, beautiful toes to be able to reach me. I let my arms drape over her protectively, plunging my fingers into her hair, practically lifting her off her feet so that can I kiss her in full view of everybody.

Snap. Snap. Snap. I wonder what the hashtags will be?

“They’re loving this,” she murmurs as I set her down gently, batting her eyelashes at me vigorously.

“Well, of course they are. I don't know if we could've gotten a much more perfect spots. Romantic, well lit, and about as public as you can get.”

“Oh, yes, you’re brilliant,” she sighs, and something inside me goes all warm and fire colored. I have to admit, I do like it when she says nice things to me.

The tent flap billows to the side and Dillon steps out, grinning widely. Again all the cameras start snapping and I shake my head, subtly gesturing for him to get back in the tent. He pretends he doesn't understand me and just stands there, beaming at her.

“What do you think you're doing?” I growl at him through clenched teeth when we are within earshot. “You're supposed to stay out of sight.”

“Rob is almost here. I figured you would want to know,” he shrugs, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. He is definitely not being even a little bit discreet.

“Oh, thanks for the heads up,” Bella says sweetly. She brushes her fingertips across my chest, gazing up into my eyes even while she's talking to Dillon. More snapping. “Is this where we’re going to be dining? Away from everybody?”

I hold the tent flap aside for her, allowing us one more moment in profile to gaze at each other for everyone to see before ducking through the opening.

Holding my hands out, I let her look around for a second, take it all in. “It’s nice, isn't it? Wolfgang Puck knows how to do take-out.”

She rolls her eyes at me, throwing a playful glance over her shoulder. “Oh, you're a funny one,” she giggles. “I bet you haven't really had take-out in —”

She stops up short as Wolfgang enters the enclosure, his ruddy cheeks crinkling in mirth.