In Name Only. Kat Cantrell

be nervous? This was all his show and he’d always had a supreme amount of confidence no matter the situation.

      His friend Warren stood next to an elderly man holding a Bible. Jonas halted where they’d been told to stand and glanced at her with a reassuring smile.

      “Dearly beloved,” the man began and was immediately interrupted by a commotion at the back. Viv and Jonas both turned to see green-suit lady grappling with the door as someone tried to get into the room.

      “Sir, the ceremony has already started,” she called out to no avail as the man who must be Hendrix Harris easily shoved his way inside and joined them at the front.

      Yep. He looked just like the many, many pictures she’d seen of him strewn across the media, and not just because his mother was running for governor. Usually he had a gorgeous woman glued to his side and they were doing something overly sensual, like kissing as if no one was watching.

      “Sorry,” he muttered to Jonas. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he’d slept in his expensively tailored shirt and pants.

      “Figured you’d find a way to make my wedding memorable,” Jonas said without malice, because that’s the kind of man he was. She’d have a hard time being so generous with someone who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.

      The officiant started over, and in a few minutes, she and Jonas exchanged vows. All fake, she chanted to herself as she promised to love and cherish.

      “You may kiss the bride,” the officiant said with so little inflection that it took a minute for it to sink in that he meant Jonas could kiss her. Her pulse hit the roof.

      Somehow, they hadn’t established what would happen here. She glanced at Jonas and raised a brow. Jonas hesitated.

      “This is the part where you kiss her, idiot,” Hendrix muttered with a salacious grin.

      This was her one chance, the only time she had every right to put her lips on this man, and she wasn’t missing the opportunity. The other people in the room vanished as she flattened her palms on Jonas’s lapels. He leaned in and put one hand on her jaw, guiding it upward. His warmth bled through her skin, enlivening it, and then her brain ceased to function as his mouth touched hers.

      Instantly, that wasn’t enough and she pressed forward, seeking more of him. The kiss deepened as his lips aligned properly and oh, yes, that was it.

      Her crush exploded into a million little pieces as she tasted what it was like to kiss Jonas. That nice, safe attraction she had been so sure she could hide gained teeth, slicing through her midsection with sharp heat. The dimensions of sensation opened around her, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of how truly spectacular it would feel if he didn’t stop.

      But he did stop, stepping back so quickly that she almost toppled over. He caught her forearms and held her steady...though he looked none too steady himself, his gaze enigmatic and heated in a way she’d never witnessed before.

      Clearly that experience had knocked them both for a loop. What did you say to someone you’d just kissed and who you wanted to kiss again, but really, that hadn’t been part of the deal?

      “That was nice,” Jonas murmured. “Thanks.”

      Nice was not the word on her mind. So they were going to pretend that hadn’t just happened, apparently.

      Good. That was exactly what they should do. Treat it like a part of the ceremony and move on.

      Except her lips still tingled, and how in the world was Jonas just standing there holding her hand like nothing momentous had occurred? She needed to learn the answer to that, stat. Especially if they were going to be under the same roof. Otherwise, their friendship—and this marriage—would be toast the second he clued in to how hot and bothered he got her. He’d specifically told her that he could trust her because they were friends and he needed her to be one.

      “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant intoned, completely oblivious to how the earth had just swelled beneath Viv’s feet.

      Jonas turned and led her back up the aisle, where they signed the marriage license. They ended up in the same vestibule they’d been in minutes before, but now they were married.

      Her signature underneath Jonas’s neat script made it official, but as she’d expected, it was just a piece of paper. The kiss, on the other hand? That had shaken her to the core.

      How was she going to stop herself from angling for another one?

      “Well,” Hendrix said brightly. “I’d say this calls for a drink. I’ll buy.”

       Two

      Jonas had never thought of his six-thousand-square-foot penthouse condo as small. Until today. It was full of Viviana Dawson. Er, Kim. Viviana Kim. She’d officially changed her name at the Department of Motor Vehicles, and soon, she’d have a new driver’s license that said she had the legal right to call herself that. By design. His sense of honor wouldn’t permit him to outright lie about his relationship with Viv; therefore, she was Mrs. Kim in every sense of the word.

      Except one.

      The concept was surreal. As surreal as the idea that she was his wife and he could introduce her as such to anyone who asked.

      Except for himself apparently because he was having a hard time thinking of her that way no matter how many times he repeated the word wife when he glimpsed her through the archway leading to the kitchen. Boxes upon boxes covered every inch of the granite countertops, and though she’d been working on unpacking them for an hour, it looked like she’d barely made a dent.

      He should quit skulking around and get in there to help. But he hadn’t because he couldn’t figure out how to manage the weird vibe that had sprung up between them.

      That kiss.

      It had opened up a Pandora’s box that he didn’t know how to close. Before, he’d had a sort of objective understanding that Viv was a beautiful woman whose company he enjoyed.

      Ever since the ceremony, no more. There was a thin veil of awareness that he couldn’t shake. But he needed to. They were living together as friends because she’d agreed to a favor that didn’t include backing her up against the counter so he could explore her lush mouth.

      He liked Viv. Add a previously undiscovered attraction and she was exactly the kind of woman he’d studiously avoided for nearly a decade. The kind he could easily envision taking him deeper and deeper until he was emotionally overwhelmed enough to give up everything.

      The problem of course being that he couldn’t stop calling her, like he usually did with women who threatened his vow. He’d married this one.

      He was being ridiculous. What was he, seventeen? He could handle a little spark between friends, right? Best way to manage that was to ignore it. And definitely not let on that he’d felt something other than friendly ever since kissing her.

      All he and Viv had to do was live together until he could convince his grandfather to go through with the merger anyway. Once the two companies signed agreements, neither would back out and Jonas was home free. Since he was covering Viv’s rent until then, she could move back into her apartment at that point.

      This plan would work, and soon enough, he could look back on it smugly and pinpoint the exact moment when he’d outsmarted his grandfather.

      Casually, he leaned on the exposed-brick column between the dining room and the kitchen and crossed his arms like everything was cool between them. It would be cool. “What can I do?”

      Viv jerked and spun around to face him, eyes wide. “You scared me. Obviously.”

      Her nervous laugh ruffled his spine. So they were both feeling the weirdness, but it was clearly different weirdness on her side than on his. She was jumpy and nervous, not hot and bothered. He had not seen that coming. That was...not