Authors: Robyn Thomas
Christophe spread his hands in a beseeching fashion. “May I?”
Terrified of what he was about to say, she felt herself nodding, albeit reluctantly. Presumably the weedy little fellow was good at his job, whatever that might be. If he had a suggestion the least she could do was hear him out.
“You’ve devised a bridal lottery and declared yourself the winner.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I created it,” Jake said.
Christophe continued to speak, paying them no mind at all.
“Bethany, you have all the members of Five Awesome Emperors living under your roof.” She nodded once, her brows pulling down as she tried to grasp what he was saying. “Maybe you’re planning a redraw? Maybe you’re playing them against one another?”
Her jaw dropped even as Christophe’s hands shot up in front of his face as if he thought Jake would take a swing at him.
“Relax Jake, easy boy.”
Jake took his seat beside her again and wrapped an arm around her. His cold gaze fixed on Christophe, who appeared to be enjoying himself now that the threat had dissipated.
“What do you want, Christophe?”
“The situation is open to a certain level of
interpretation
that you may wish to avoid. An exclusive interview.”
“No,” Jake cut in. The warning in his tone was clear, but Christophe refused to be silenced.
“One strategic interview with the two of you looking wholesome, yet lovestruck.” His beady eyes lingered on their linked hands and his lips curled into a smile. “Much as you are now. Something tasteful and brief that’ll disperse the crowd at your gates.” His eyes slid to her ring and he made a tut-tut sound.
“We’ll have to get you a decent ring.”
She was on her feet almost before the insult was out of his mouth. “I’ll do
one
interview if it’ll make you happy. But there’s no way I’m changing my ring.”
The silence following her outburst was deafening. Jake’smouth was set in a grim line but Christophe beamed, cl early pleased with the outcome.
“You sort it out,” she said to Jake, certain she’d only dig herself a deeper hole if she tried to argue with Christophe. Jake was more uptight than she’d seen him in the few days they had spent together. Obviously, he and Christophe had a problematic relationship. No doubt she’d put him in a difficult position by reacting to Christophe’s taunt about her ring, but this wasn’t exactly a picnic for her either.
“You don’t have to do this, Beth,” Jake murmured for her ears only.
“Will it get rid of the reporters? Most of them?”
His nod was reluctant, but she could tell he was just trying to save her from the dubious joy of more publicity.
“Before I go getting any more famous, I’m going to need to
freshen up.” Despite their avid one-person audience, she reached up to cup Jake’s clenched jaw. “I’ll be in the bathroom if we need to go over our battle plan.”
…
An overwhelming sense of déjà vu crashed over Jake. It was probably good Beth hadn’t shucked her clothes on the way out the door today, but this was the exact point where yesterday had slipped beyond his control.
“No interview,” he told Christophe. “Being proactive could be dangerous in this instance. Let’s see what the press comes up with before we attempt to counter it.”
The other man’s arrogance fell away. “Where are you going?”
Beth’s bathroom.
Ignoring his still-damp hair, Jake hiked one shoulder up. “To grab a shower.”
Knocking softly on the next door over was easy; waiting for a response was torture. “Beth?”
The door opened wide and she dragged him inside by his shirtfront before shutting the door with a decisive click. “You’ll get me into trouble,” she said before flinging her arms around him and holding tight. “You need to go.” She began to push him away, then thought better of it. “Oh, unless no one saw you? If they didn’t then you should definitely stay for a bit.”
A rush of tenderness engulfed him as her words fell all over themselves. Her heart pounded in a restless rhythm that matched his as he pulled her closer. “Ken was in the hall, but I didn’t pay him any attention. I’m not ready to be one of a dozen houseguests.”
“You’re not a guest at all.” She eased out of his arms and grinned as she brandished a newspaper. “I found this on the vanity and according to the article about us, you live here.”
He glanced around at the purely feminine space with candy-striped wallpaper and an old-fashioned rose-pink bathtub. “My digs are quite feminine. I’ll have to redecorate and make the place more…manly.”
Her laughter warmed him from the inside out. “Real men aren’t intimidated by splashes of pink and tactile furnishings. My
fianc
é has coped rather well with touchable fabrics and alternate beds the past few days. I wonder if he’ll change, now that other people are watching?”
Crazy feelings of jealousy and possessiveness clawed through him, and the temptation to march her back to their sitting room, banish Christophe, and barricade the door was difficult to resist.
Hell, how was he going to get by without touching her at every opportunity? Her hand seemed to be forever in his and he liked it that way.
“Liam and the others will pounce on every tiny intimacy. Every look, every touch will be a source of ridicule and speculation. Your fiancé knows better than to fuel it.”
Ignoring him, she bent to put the plug in the bath and turned both taps on. She produced a spindly pink stool from beneath the open vanity unit and gestured for him to sit on it. He eyed the hot pink fuzz skeptically but sat without complaint. The sideways look she sent him all but dared him to comment as she removed her wrap. He remained silent, resting his elbows on his knees in an effort to appear at ease. She was deliberately winding him up, and it was working. His curiosity raged out of control.
She extended one leg toward him and wiggled her foot.
“Heels,” she told him with a grin. “All day yesterday.”
So saying, she tossed a liberal amount of fragrant powder into the bath, took a seat on the wide tiled ledge at the end of the bath, and sent him a patronizing glance. “Taps off. Button on.” She pointed to the spa control.
Her big old dinosaur of a bath was a spa? How cool was that?
“Must I do everything myself?” she asked when he didn’t obey immediately.
Assisting her was a pleasure. In every sense. The novelty of being at Beth’s command, albeit just for fun, was something he’d expected would vanish once she got a taste of his world. Boosting her through her kitchen window, shifting furniture, and stocking her coolroom with neatly labeled containers of food had been a great introduction, but she was
still
treating him like a man who ought to watch his step around someone as fine as she was.
And he adored her for it.
His own feet were already bare, so joining her on the ledge felt as natural as breathing. The calming aroma of mint and something vaguely citrusy appealed to him. Settling beside her, he sank his feet into the steamy water, then yanked them back out again. “Damn, that’s hot!”
“Hot water?” she asked drily. “Imagine being unexpectedly plunged into that.”
He watched her closely. “Want me to cool it down?”
Her slight smirk told him they were no longer discussing the bath, if indeed they ever had been. “Or we could just wait for it to stop steaming on its own.” Her head tipped to one side as if to say “couldn’t we?” And he felt his chest constrict, wishing it was that simple. “This is new to me. What usually happens?”
He cleared his throat and considered distracting her instead.
Adjusting the water temperature gave him a brief respite, but Beth waited for an answer. He sat beside her, crowding her because she’d strayed into territory he didn’t want to discuss.
She bumped his shoulder with hers. “What usually happens, Jake?”
Taking her hand in his, he settled it on his outer thigh and trapped it there. Documenting the downside of his life was uncomfortable, but these bonus moments of pseudo-intimacy with Beth made up for it.
“If there’s an article or report linking a woman to me without her having made a conscious grab for celebrity, then money inevitably changes hands. It’s usually backed up by public tears, and occasionally there are hastily drafted legal papers prohibiting future contact.” He shrugged. “Some women feel guilty about asking for hush money when they don’t have a story to share. The paperwork seems to legitimize it for them.”
“You pay to keep a lid on things that never happened?”
“Sure. Aside from public appearances, concerts, and new albums, there’s never anything to report, yet the media love to weave stories out of nothing.” One of her eyebrows quirked and he ran his hand over hers, sliding his fingers between hers just because he could. “It could be anything. I’m in the same city as another entertainer—we’re having a hot affair. I’m staying at a particular hotel—it’s rumored there are runway models in the suite next door. I write a song about Florence and I’m the toast of Italy, until a photographer catches a photo of an autograph I’ve signed for a single mother in Baltimore. Her name’s Florence and next thing you know her kid’s photo is printed alongside mine and the world’s looking for similarities in our bone structure.”
“How awful.”
He squeezed her hand, but took care to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “It’s a constant battle to keep the public vibe favorable. That’s why Christophe’s annoyed that he wasn’t brought in earlier on this engagement story.” He frowned as he considered that. “You could make money from our situation. Why haven’t you threatened to sell the story?”
The flush that colored her face caught him by surprise. “I don’t know what the deal is with you and Skyla, but you’ve gone to a lot of effort to ensure she’s not making a mistake by marrying Brad.
Your solution wouldn’t have been my first choice, but we’re on the same side so I’m not about to ruin it for you.” She laughed and jiggled her hand within his grip. “Organizing their wedding under seige conditions is bound to throw up some interesting challenges, but I’ll manage somehow.”
“Skyla and I—”
“I don’t want to know! Truly,” she said in a softer tone.
“Skyla’s about to be my unofficial sister-in-law, so ignorance about her history with you will be bliss. Just keep what you know to yourself.”
“She’s my sister.” The admission made him feel exposed, but he hadn’t told the complete truth. “Half-sister. She doesn’t know, and I don’t think my mother does either.”
Beth’s sharp intake of breath felt like a dagger in his side. “So you’re family?” A host of emotions played across her face as she tried to come to terms with it. “I know some things that aren’t mine to tell, but I can promise you she’ll be thrilled to discover she has a brother. Why don’t you stop pretending?”
“It can’t be public knowledge. My parents have a volatile marriage as it is, and confirmation of an affair my father had twenty-six years ago might be the final straw. He’s not a nice man, not someone Skyla should ever associate with.” He grinned. “She’s a bit of a princess. Being her employer allows me to observe her life from a distance without any risk.” His heart crept onto his sleeve. “But I want more.”
Her soft snort said it all. “Me too.” She hesitated, her internal struggle evident in her tightly held body. “You should know that pretending to be engaged to you is really working for me.
While I had my mother it didn’t seem so bad, but now Brad’s the only person I have a lasting connection with, and I feel as if our friendship will change drastically once he and Skyla are married.”
A long length of her hair dangled between them. Taking a chance, he tugged on it. “Aren’t weddings supposed to bring families together?”
The smallest twitch of her lips was his reward. Then she made a production out of groaning and dropping her face into her hands. “Ugh, if my wannabe-brother is marrying your half-sister, does that mean we’re related?”
He threw his head back and laughed. He stepped into the center of the bath and turned the spa on before reaching for Beth’s hands. Drawing her to her feet, he hugged her close, continuing to chuckle as the warm sudsy water frothed around their ankles. “I think we’ll be in-laws when Skyla and Brad get married.”
A sharp knock sounded on the bathroom door and Liam’s voice wafted through. “Heads up, Christophe’s having a breakdown over some computer searches.”
“Okay. Thanks, Liam,” she said.
Jake shook his head at Beth’s ability to tell her new houseguests apart by voice alone. He stepped out of the bath and decided to forgo the range of hot-pink towels. “I’ll stall Christophe while you shower. I guess I forgot to warn you that the media will have been monitoring your internet searches.” He grinned as color rushed to her face. “Spill. What have you searched since I got here?”
Green eyes full of defiance clashed with his. “You.”
“You’re kidding.” The barely there shake of her head assured him she wasn’t. A weird combination of amusement and dread washed over him. Christophe would be purple in the face and so full of bluster there’d be no placating him, but whether that was funny or dire remained to be seen. He propped his hip and shoulder against the candy-striped wall and folded his arms. “We’ll face the music together. Go ahead and shower.”
“Turn around.”
Intrigued despite himself, he did as she asked, damn near jumping out of his skin when her balled up nightgown hit the back of his head. He grabbed one of the cotton-candy-inspired towels and unfolded it to the tune of hasty splashing. Was she sitting down, squatting, standing and splashing haphazard bits of water over herself? Could he help? The need to look ate him alive but he kept his eyes on the wall, his gaze straying to the shaving mirror, which was angled all wrong yet wouldn’t need a huge adjustment to net fabulous results.
“Thanks.” The towel was yanked out of his hands, and when he turned Beth was swathed in it, a wide smile on her face. “It’s possible I looked up some wedding stuff, too.”
He handed her some underwear and grinned. “Nude pics, life insurance, and sprawling estates in the south of France would be easier to explain, but Christophe can use a challenge.”