Рейчел Бейли – His 24-Hour Wife (страница 7)

“You were right,” he murmured. “I do feel more comfortable.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Is it okay with you if I move a little closer?”

He chuckled. “We’re supposed to be in love. I think you’re allowed to get as close as you want without asking permission.”

She stepped in and leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt good there. Felt right. As if his body remembered their intimacy. He took his hand from her waist and wrapped it around her, securing her against him, and she let out a contented sigh.

He imagined leaning down, finding her lips and losing himself in her kiss. Then taking her by the hand down the hall to her bedroom...

Except they had an audience.

And they were pretending.

This wasn’t real. He couldn’t let himself be lulled into falling for the very story they were spinning for the press. He released Callie and stepped back.

“I, er,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “That seemed to go better.”

Callie nodded. “I was less self-conscious. What did you think, Summer?”

Summer held up her camera and pointed to the laptop. “Excellent. Once you two started dancing, it was totally believable. Just remember how you did it when photographers ask you to pose.”

“Sure,” Callie said, her voice a little husky. “We’ll pretend we’re dancing.”

Adam rubbed two fingers across his forehead as he contemplated having to repeat this. “Will do,” he said, throwing a glance at the door. He needed some space to clear his head. And to rein in his body. “Look, I should head home. Thanks for your help, Summer.” He stuck out his hand, and Summer shook it. Then he turned to Callie. “Callie, let me know when you have an interview set up and I’ll clear my schedule.”

“I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”

He nodded. After the dance they’d shared, it seemed ridiculous to offer her the same handshake as her sister, but then again, they weren’t actually dating. He settled on the same greeting he gave his brothers’ fiancées and kissed her cheek.

Then he left the apartment. Quickly. Because the stupid part of his brain had told him to kiss her again. And this time, not on the cheek.

Once he was safely inside the elevator with the doors closed, he thumped his head back on the wall and swore. Next time, he’d have better control over his reactions to Callie Mitchell. Next time, it would simply be like two actors in a scene.

Next time...

He groaned and thumped his head against the wall again as he realized this was only the beginning.

* * *

Two days later, Callie found herself with a journalist, walking through the Hawke Brothers’ flower markets. She was wearing a pale gold dress and kitten heels, her hair and makeup photo-ready.

Adam was striding a few steps ahead with the photographer, who wore ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt. Adam, in contrast, was in a tuxedo, parting the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea. No one walked the way Adam Hawke did—powerfully, and always with a purpose. The jacket fit his shoulders perfectly, highlighting their breadth and strength. It was mesmerizing.

“You sure lucked out in husbands,” Anna Wilson said as she walked in step beside Callie. Anna was the first journalist she’d called when looking for a place to launch the story. She was already a friend, and she had a reputation for writing good, solid stories on famous people that neither simpered over the subject nor made snarky digs.

“Yep, Lady Luck was kind to me that night.” Memories of twisted white sheets and Adam’s naked physique rolled through her mind, causing her mouth to suddenly go dry.

“Maybe I should try Vegas,” Anna said. “If I’m going to try my luck anywhere, then surely luck’s hometown will work as well for me as it did for you.”

A stab of unease hit Callie squarely in the belly. Luck hadn’t smiled on her in Vegas. It had given her a night in heaven, sure, but the price had been high. Spending this time with Adam now might just drive her insane.

“You’re not wearing rings,” Anna said suddenly.

“Rings?” Callie repeated.

“You know,” Anna teased, “those little bands we traditionally exchange when we get engaged and married.”

Callie frowned, surprised at herself for missing this detail. When they’d originally exchanged vows, they’d paid for cheap rings that had come from a tray kept under the counter at the chapel. She and Adam had both taken them off the next morning. Hers was in her makeup case where she’d tucked it after sobering up, and she assumed Adam had thrown his away.

“We’re getting new rings for the new ceremony,” she said, thinking on her feet. “It’s symbolic of us starting fresh.”

Anna smiled dreamily. “I love that idea.”

Adam stopped in front of a large flower stall with shelves covered in buckets of bright blooms in every color. He said a few words to the photographer, and then turned to Callie. “How about we take some of the photos here?”

She surveyed the scene. The backdrop would provide color and evoke happiness, and the light was good. “This would be great,” she said, moving to take Adam’s hand.

He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on her lips, and her pulse went into overdrive. It wasn’t difficult to find the blissed-out expression that she was supposed to be faking—in fact, she knew it was on her face, whether she wanted it there or not.

Anna glanced around and conferred with Ralph, the photographer, and then said, “This is good. How about we start with you replaying that kiss for us?”

Callie glanced up at Adam and he looked for all the world as if he could think of nothing better than kissing her again. He clearly had the acting thing down pat. Of course, he probably did still desire her—chemistry as strong as what they’d shared wouldn’t likely disappear overnight, but she was well aware he didn’t want to give in to it again. And one thing she’d learned about Adam Hawke in the short time she’d known him was that he had iron willpower.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as he lowered his head. This time it was no peck on the lips, it was more. So much more. Tempting, sensual and knowing. It was everything. She slid her hands along his wrists, past his elbows to grip his biceps through his shirt, partly to keep him in place and partly to hold herself up.

He trailed his lips to the corner of her mouth and then across to her ear. Whispering her name, he sent a shiver across her skin and bit gently on her earlobe. She turned her face, searching for and finding his kiss, feeling as if she’d found her home, as well.

They eased apart and Callie held on to his arms for an extra beat, her knees too wobbly to hold herself upright, her mind too dazed to think clearly.

“Adam,” she whispered, and in response a lazy smile spread across his face.

“That’s great,” Ralph said. “Just hang on a sec while I adjust some settings.”

Surprised out of the little world she’d been in with Adam, Callie took a step back. She hadn’t given one thought to acting during that kiss or its aftermath. She’d forgotten the photographer was there. Forgotten the rest of the world. In that moment, she couldn’t look at Adam. Didn’t want to know if he was looking down on her with pity for getting carried away, or if he was looking at something else, disinterested in her now that they’d performed for the camera. And if he was as off-kilter as she was? Well, some things were better not to know.

To give herself something to do, she turned to take in the picturesque markets around her, the beautiful displays of flowers of all kinds, all colors, and waited for her breathing to return to normal.

As she turned farther, she felt her dress catch on a bucket of lilies near her feet. Not wanting to hurt the flowers, she picked up her knee-length skirt and took a step back.

“Hang on,” Adam said, looking at her hemline. “You have pollen on your skirt.”

Callie sighed. Pollen was almost impossible to get out of fabric, and this was a good dress. She went to rub her thumb over it, but Adam held up a hand. “Wait. Rubbing it will only make it worse.”

He kneeled down in front of her and took the skirt from her hands, inspecting the stain. Then he retrieved something from his pocket.

“What’s that?” She tilted her head to try and see around him to what he held.

Holding it up for her to see, he gave her a quick smile. “Sticky tape. I always carry a roll when I walk through the markets.”

“Just normal, everyday tape?” she asked, skeptical about what he was doing, but prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He nodded. “Best thing for it.”

She watched as he ripped off a small strip and carefully laid it across the pollen before peeling it off. There was something strangely like a fairy tale about standing amongst the flowers in a pale gold dress with a handsome man on bended knee before her. The fact that he was doing something as practical as helping with her with a pollen mishap, instead of declaring undying love and offering her his kingdom, only made it all the more perfect. Adam Hawke stole her breath no matter what he was doing.

He stood and held the tape out to her. “All gone.”