One Hot Fake: An Accidental Fake Marriage Romance by Sarah Brooks (nice books to read .TXT) 📕

go to Santa Monica together, and even though ours is a marriage of convenience, I don’t want things to be like this between Marian and me.

“Have you told the folks?” Ace says.

“No, and I don’t plan to until I have to,” I tell him.

Ace nods tersely. We both know our parents, especially our mother. Their specialty is mind games. When Ace and I were growing up, they dangled affection in front of us like a carrot to a rabbit.

If you behaved well, you received affection. If you messed up, as kids are bound to do, the affection was withdrawn. It was a fucked-up way to grow up, and I am happy for Ace that he’s been able to put it behind him.

Ace is smart enough to keep Lexi and Luna away from Mom. They visit every so often, enough for Luna to know her grandparents but not enough to enable them to influence her life.

“What are your plans for Did you say Pizza?” Ace asks.

I’m relieved by the change of topic. “I’m thinking of LA as the location for the second outlet,” I tell him. “I’ve put the word out to a few agents, but I know retail space in LA is very competitive.”

Ace and I were once in the real estate industry, flipping houses for a living until he went to Afghanistan.

“Oh,” he says. “You might just be in luck. You know Golden Crust Bakery, right?”

“Yes,” I say with mounting excitement. Golden Crust Bakery is down the street from Ace’s workplace and next to First Bar, a joint popular with firefighters.

“They’re shutting down. I’ll get more info for you,” Ace says.

This day, which began so badly, is doing a quick about-turn.

Chapter 9

Marian

It’s four in the afternoon, and I’ve given up hope that Declan will come by. I’m itching to go home and see whether he’s still there, but something tells me he’s not. Declan is not the type to be held ransom by anyone. I’m well aware of the position I left him in, but I needed to make a point.

He probably thought that our deal had changed because we had sex. No chance. Leaving him as I did in the morning would put that thought back where it had come from.

A part of me feels bad at treating him that way when he didn’t deserve it, but the survivor part of me is cheering me on. A knock comes on the door, and my heart skips a beat. Declan.

“Come in,” I call out cheerfully.

Kimberly peers in and disappointment floods me. I muster a smile. “Your four-thirty appointment is here to see you.”

I smile. “Thanks, show them in.”

I stand up as Phil and Erika walk in. They are a couple in their early twenties, and this is our first meeting together. I usually like to hold first meetings in my office to give my clients confidence that ours is a serious enterprise.

“Hi, I’m Marian Stevens, and you must be Phil and Erika,” I say.

They introduce themselves, and I invite them to sit down on the spare chairs. Erika is easygoing with a great smile. Her fiancé is a bit on the serious side, but in our world, that doesn’t say much. The partner who looks easygoing may very well turn out to be the most difficult.

I’ve learned to reserve my judgment.

“What can I do for you?” I say, my tone was friendly to put them at ease. First meetings are nerve-wracking for most couples.

Phil dives right in. “This is Erika’s idea.” A feeling of dread comes over me. Any hopes that I may have had that the meeting would be smooth fly out the window.

“Okay,” I say calmly.

“My first question is this: Why do people hire a wedding planner?” he says.

Erika sits up. “Why are you doing this, Phil? I already told you. We can’t cope with all the arrangements and our busy schedules.”

He sits back in his chair and adopts a sulky look. Definitely a bad start.

“It’s a good question that Phil asked,” I say, and he perks up a bit.

The meeting is long and tedious, with Phil being argumentative all the way. I could dump them on Kimberly or Eric, but I like to be the one dealing with difficult clients. By the time I manage to leave the office, it’s five-thirty, and I hurry out like a madwoman.

I drive straight home, clinging to the hope that just maybe, Declan is home. It hurts the slightest bit that he did not bother to look for me. Finding my number would not have been that difficult. His brother Ace would have gotten it easily enough.

I remind myself that ours is a fake marriage. We don’t owe each other anything. That knowledge doesn’t soothe my injured pride. The only thing that can is if I find Declan at home.

The silence in the house is deafening.

“Declan?” My voice echoes back at me.

I head to the kitchen. The note I left is not on the fridge. I spy it in the trash can. I look around to see if he left me a note. Nope. Nothing. I trudge upstairs to the guest room.

The bed is made, and the windows open to let in the fresh air. Despite myself, I’m impressed with his housekeeping skills. Looking at the bed, there’s no trace of the passionate night that Declan and I shared.

My pussy clenched and my thighs tingle as memories of the night flooded me. Declan is the most skilled lover I have ever had. He brought out a side of me that I didn’t know I possessed. A side that was unashamed and eager to let go and give myself to his experienced hands.

I swallow my disappointment. Not that I want a repeat of last night. That was just sex. What we do need to do, however, is to have a discussion and cement the deal. Make sure that Declan understands that I meant what I said.

We’ll only be together until I get pregnant, and then we can part ways.