Authors: Alexia Adams
Her Faux Fiancé (23 page)
“Jonathan, this is my friend Olivia Chapman. She’s visiting for a couple of weeks. Olivia, this is Jonathan Davis. He’s the one who rescued me when I got lost on my first day in Italy.”
He shook hands with Olivia, surprised at her firm grip. “And then Sophia rescued me from bad taste,” he replied. He gestured around the room. “Everything you see is a product of her design skills.”
Olivia glanced around the rustic kitchen. “It’s beautiful. And you have a stunning view. Must be amazing to wake up to that every morning.”
Not as amazing as it would be to wake up next to you in the morning.
God, he had to get a grip. Fast. He was behaving like a pubescent teenager. Not a man of thirty-one who’d already been to hell and back at the whim of a woman.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, very beautiful.” His gaze locked on hers.
“So, tomorrow? Do you want to join us?” Sophia’s voice broke through the fog of desire that held him captive. Even Olivia turned, as though surprised her friend was still there.
“Tomorrow?” He dragged his mind, kicking and screaming, back to the present.
Sophia laughed. “The medieval festival in Brisighella.”
The voice of reason in his head told him that spending time with Olivia would wreak havoc on his newly found peace of mind. A woman on the rebound and a guy who’d sworn never to marry again—it could only end in disaster. The sensible thing to do would be to decline and spend tomorrow working on the garden.
The rest of his anatomy overruled logic.
“That sounds great. What time are you leaving?” He forced his eyes away from Olivia, who was the opposite of Sophia in coloring. Sophia had blond hair and green eyes, her pale complexion sheltered by a large brimmed hat. Olivia was dark, sultry—her mixed race parentage had blended to create a potent combination of skin tone and luscious features. But both Sophia and Olivia had the same hint of laughter in their eyes.
“Seven
A.M.
okay with you? Luca suggested we leave early to make the most of the day,” Sophia said. Her mobile phone rang and she dug it out of her handbag. “Speak of the husband … I’ll take the call on the terrace so you two can talk without having to listen to my one-sided conversation.” She answered the phone as she wandered outside.
“Is this your first trip to Italy?” Jonathan asked.
Keep it simple. Keep it casual
.
“No, I’ve been to Rome and Milan several times. But it’s the first time I’ve been out in the country and, of course, my first visit to Sophia’s place.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Her villa is beautiful. How long do you plan to stay?”
Her answer was preempted by Sophia’s return, looking upset.
“What’s wrong, Sophia? Is everything okay with Luca?” Olivia put her arm around her friend’s shoulder.
“Luca’s fine. It’s that hotel project he’s working on. There’s been a hiccup with the contracts, and he needs to fly to New York right away.”
“Go with him.”
“I can’t, Livy. You just got here.” Sophia’s protests weren’t as adamant as she probably hoped.
“I can hang out at your place for a few days without you. If everything you tell me is true, there’s plenty to keep me busy. Go with your husband to the States—a place you’ve never been but have always dreamed of visiting.”
“But ... ”
“No buts. I’ll be fine.”
“We were all set to go to Brisighella tomorrow,” Sophia reminded her.
“We can go when you get back.”
“The festival ends this weekend.”
“Then Olivia and I will go tomorrow and take lots of photos so you can see what you missed,” Jonathan responded.
Why the hell did I suggest that? Has my dick learned to talk? Because obviously my brain is in my pants right now.
“I—” Olivia began. She clearly didn’t think it was a smart idea either.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. If you and Jonathan are together, I won’t feel so bad about leaving.” The beautiful smile that crossed Sophia’s face reassured him he’d done the right thing. Her interior design skills had turned his sterile renovation into a comfortable home. He owed her. And if taking her friend to a medieval festival would make her feel better, then he’d do it.
“Seven still okay for you?” he asked Olivia.
“I’ll be ready,” she confirmed.
“Thank you, Jonathan. I’d better get home and pack.” Sophia put her water glass into the sink and turned toward the door.
“Until tomorrow,” Olivia murmured as she handed him her empty glass. Their fingers touched briefly and he nearly dropped the tumbler. Her lips parted and her eyes scanned him once more before she followed her friend.
A bead of sweat slid down his spine. What had he just gotten himself into?
• • •
Early the next morning, Olivia stepped under the cool spray of the shower in one of the guest bedrooms at Sophia’s villa. She was used to discomfort. Clothes that squeezed her curvy shape into the boxlike silhouette designers seemed to prefer, ridiculous shoes that pinched everywhere, and contorted positions that she had to hold for hours so a photographer could get the perfect image. It was the price she paid to be a model. A job she was damn good at. Her coping mechanism generally worked perfectly, allowing her to withstand hours of pain and still keep the smile on her face and the come-ravage-me look for which she was known in her eyes.
Her discomfort at walking into Jonathan’s house yesterday, however, had all been internal. She had reacted to him in an entirely unhealthy manner—unhealthy for her peace of mind, that was. Her body had immediately suggested all kinds of ways she could relieve the pressure that grew inside with each caress of his sky-blue eyes.
Unlike many of the male models she worked with, she was pretty sure Jonathan’s muscles came from actual work, rather than hours spent in the gym. They weren’t disproportionate or just for show. And when she’d caught a glimpse of his tight, white arse in the reflection from the window, she’d nearly passed out. Yes, he was one smoking hot man. What surprised her was that her immunity to pretty boys didn’t seem to extend to Sophia’s friend.
Maybe it was because he was more like a Norse god than a mere mortal pretty-boy. It was as though he was used to walking into a room and being instantly in charge. Jonathan’s very presence was somehow powerful, disturbing; his touch almost electric. She’d had to physically force herself to move away from their contact over the water glass. His long, strong fingers could probably bring a woman to the brink of ecstasy within minutes. And his shoulder-length, light blond hair with its loose curls would give her something to hold on to as his fingers did their work. Even his blue eyes, heightened by his deep tan, could scatter her thoughts. No man had ever had that effect on her.
And that was the problem. Jonathan wasn’t a man who was easily forgotten. Too bad she’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future. He would have made one hell of a swan song.
She shut off the water and toweled herself dry. The cool air slid over her body, raising goose flesh. Sophia’s house was beyond magnificent. Her guest bedroom was larger than Olivia’s whole flat back in London. And the gardens and postcard village on the doorstep were gorgeous. No wonder her best friend had fallen in love with Italy. And Luca.
She’d worried for Sophia when she’d entered the marriage of convenience with a man she barely knew. Now, however, her friend not only glowed with love but also her newly discovered pregnancy. Olivia squashed a twinge of envy before it could develop into longing. Of the two of them, Sophia was suited to love and marriage and babies. Olivia, not so much. She had a career to build and didn’t have time to dance attendance on any man, no matter how sexy. An image of Jonathan hauling himself out of the pool, starkers, flashed into her brain, but she repressed that as well. Although, admittedly, with a little less vehemence.
She flicked through her clothes selection. What did you wear to a medieval festival? Especially in the company of a man you were trying to keep your distance from. Burlap? She hadn’t packed anything even remotely bag-like. Trousers and a loose-fitting top were as close as she could get.
The clock now showed 6:55
A.M.
Damn, she was running late. Too much time in the shower fantasizing about Jonathan. She skipped the rest of her usual routine, threw a few things in the oversized handbag she’d brought for sightseeing, and headed down the stairs.
All she had to do was make it through the day with her man moratorium in place and she’d be fine. Then she caught a glimpse through the window of Jonathan arriving in a sleek sports car and the deep breath she’d taken whooshed out audibly.
Maybe there was time for one last ill-advised affair.
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Also by Alexia Adams:
“...an enjoyable contemporary romance with a fairy tale come to life vibe.”—4 stars,
InD'Tale Magazine
“For a fun and sexy romance with a reunion and fling that turns into real romance, don’t miss
Singapore Fling
by Alexia Adams.”—Harlequin Junkie
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