Page 28 of It Happened in Vegas

“Nope. Just wondering what you brought to wear to the different functions this weekend.” Good cover up. I scanned again over the itinerary the show producer, Melanie, had emailed.

I hadn’t realized how many events Keaton was expected to appear in, focused solely on his branding relaunch celebration as I was. Keaton had made all the arrangements to get the newly labeled beer cans shipped to Vegas, while I handled all the party details, and even managed to land a few product placements at the wedding reception thanks to my friendliness and negotiation with the producers.

If everything went as planned, Brewed for Love’s eight million viewers would go wild for Keaton’s brand. Even more, I had Keaton’s fan club of social media influencers at the ready to post and created a buzz the minute the show aired.

Yes, he had a fan club online, and if anyone asked, I may or may not deny that I had started it back when I became hooked on his season with the show.

My entire plan fell into place, exactly as I liked it.

Just a few… minor details remained to sort out.

“Okay, Kingston,” I said, closing my laptop down and preparing for this important conversation. I laced my fingers in front of me with all the seriousness of a lawyer entering negotiations. “Terms and conditions. What are you thinking?”

Keaton smirked without looking up, his mouth snapping his gum. “About?”

“If we’re going to sell this?—”

“Sell what, exactly?” He cocked a brow and dragged a glance across my face.

“The idea that we’re dating. You wouldn’t take a random woman to Vegas. That’s an expensive trip, an entire weekend thing.”

“I think you are pretty random. No one knows I was seeing anyone.”

His minty breath enveloped me and I resisted the urge to toss something at him. Like, say, the throw pillow wrapped in blue velvet with a B monogrammed in gold braiding perched invitingly on the arm of my seat.

“I mean that, obviously, we should act like we know each other. We have to be convincing,” I explained.

“But we do know each other. You’ve invaded my brewery every morning, and we’ve talked. Hell, we even danced and kissed.” He set his phone aside and pushed the button to sit back up, as if he finally took an interest in this conversation. “I know more intimate details about you than I knew about my last girlfriend.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you take your coffee. How we have similar tastes in pie. And that nervous tic you have when you wear your glasses and push them up your nose.”

I resisted doing that now. After crossing an ankle on his knee, he leaned into me, over the armrest between us, taking up the outer boundaries of my seat space.

“About that kiss…” My voice got breathy.

“Admit it wasgood.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a tease. I guess we were getting close, as he’d adopted my word lately.

“I wish we’d have talked about it.”

“What was there to say? ‘Gee, Sophie, the next time I want you to give me a little more tongue?’” He chuckled.

My mouth went dry. “We might have to—be expected to, in certain situations—kiss again in front of people.”

The idea of kissing him again, anytime, anywhere, already undid me. And what was the difference between fake and real? I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell once my lips were attached to his.

“I’m counting on it. You should be prepared for plenty of them. Should we practice now?” He questioned casually, another tempting offer.

“Here?” I croaked, eying how far away the attendants were.

He shrugged a shoulder with a tilt of his head. “Why not? I’m game if you are.”

The cabin heated from the exchange of looks between us.

Another kiss or two? I didn’t need to arrive in Vegas with my panties any wetter before we landed.

“No.” I forced a laugh. “It has to be spontaneous. More natural that way.”

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