Page 18 of The Christmas Cover Rule
“Mr. Grosso?”
“He’s an old friend of mine.”
“Oh! Are you here for his niece’s wedding?”
I’ve lied more times in the last twenty-four hours than in my thirty-six years of life. What’s one more?
“Yes!”
Her smile feels relieved. “Wonderful. I’m not sure when he’s supposed to be in, but I’m sure you’ll see him soon.”
“Right.” I knock my knuckles on the counter, slightly defeated, knowing this is absolutely not the update my boss is going to want to hear.
When I don’t move, she adds, “Is there something else I can help you with?”
“No.” I make a show of looking at her name tag. “Carmen. Thank you, though.”
I reach over my head,peeling off my sweaty running shirt and draping it over my shoulder before pushing open the door to our suite. The cold air smacks against my damp skin, and my feet root to the floor, but it’s not the temperature that holds me in place.
Stella stands at the end of the bed in a flaming, red bikini that has me instantly adjusting myself in my shorts. Two red triangles cover her perfect breasts, and the straps are working overtime to hold them up. My gaze trails down the soft curves of her stomach, lower until I find the equally small red triangle that covers the tight little V between her legs. My fingers itch to grasp the ties at the side of her hips and fist the strands of dark, wavy hair tumbling down her bare back.
She looks up at me from where she was just fumbling with the gold bracelet around her wrist, and her eyes widen briefly, but she covers it quickly with a teasing smile.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she breathes.
I wet my bottom lip. “Do we?”
That gives her pause. Her eyes search mine in silent question, but I don’t have any answers for her. Instead, I close the door and the distance between us, nodding toward her wrist.
“May I?”
She sets her wrist into my waiting palm, and her skin is buttery soft against mine. I work the tiny clasp as I take in her soft coconut scent, and I’m not sure if I’m even trying to hide how badly I want to be near her anymore. In fact, when the bracelet clips into place, and I don’t move, I know I’m not.
Stella’s leg shifts, and before I know it, her fingers are brushing my forearm for balance, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close my bare chest and her nearly-bare-everything are.
Her pulse flutters under my thumb the way it does every time I touch her, and it reminds me too much of the secretswe’re keeping. Except, I’m starting to wonder if the secrets I’m keeping are that everything about us is beginning to feel less like a fake relationship and edging into something more.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I let go of her wrist, run a hand through my hair, and force a step back, needing to put some distance between us before I do something stupid.
CHAPTER 11
stella
Itry to swallow, but my mouth is the only part of my body that remains dry after my encounter with Jonas this morning. I finally have to look away from where his cocky little smirk and all eight of his rippling abs lie beside me in the cabana.
Maybe I’m not used to the heat, and the Dominican sun is made of something different, because ever since I landed, I’ve been unable to think straight. I want to believe it’s because of my breakup with Aiden and not the fucking Greek God I’m sharing a bed with this week, but I’m also not an idiot.
Maya and Ella’s delighted squeals hit me, and I catch the tail end of their dad launching Ella into the air. She pops up from the water, and Maya climbs into her dad’s arms. She starts with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs like a mini cannonball, but about three feet in the air, her little limbs are flailing around. I laugh, looking a few chairs over to where Lilianna is lying in her own cabanna, except she’s not reading the book in her hands, or laughing at her children. She’s eyeing me. She thinks she’s being slick because she’s wearing her little Meredith Blake sunglasses like I can’t tellshe’s watching me, but I know her big lawyer brain is working to piece together what’s going on over here. Whatever that may be.
She goes back to reading her book, but I can still feel her doubt lingering, and if it’s time to step up the fauxmance, then here goes nothing, I guess.
“Hey, can you get my back?” I smile, handing Jonas my sunscreen oil. “Make me shine like your favorite Christmas ornament.”
He moves to scoot in closer behind me, shaking the bottle in his hand. “Is that code for ‘put sunscreen on’ or are we getting freaky at the pool?”
I gather my hair, pull it over my shoulder, and offer a flirty glance behind me.
