From Fake to Forever. Kat Cantrell

They had no relationship. And that’s how it was going to stay.

      She laughed. “You’re wearing a tux. Are you going, too?”

      “Yeah. You don’t think I expect you to do this all on your own, do you?”

      Of course, the plan to accompany her had formed well before she’d reminded him what happened when they spent more than five seconds in a room together. Abrupt loss of focus. Instant desire to do nothing more than spend several hours in bed, with Meredith’s soft laugh and softer skin against his.

      The woman turned him stupid instantly.

      “What, you don’t trust me?” she asked coquettishly. “I’m dressed. You can stop pretending to have some misguided sense of modesty.”

      “I’m not pretending. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I should get a free show.”

      He turned to face the interior of the room and got an eyeful of Meredith’s idea of dressed—a bra-and-panty set skimpy enough that it should be illegal. God, she was going to kill him.

      The freaking bath towel had covered more flesh. Her smile said she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

      “Honey, you can fantasize about keeping this platonic to your heart’s content. Just don’t hold it against me if I give you something else to fantasize about.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “What did you bring me?”

      A hard-on the size of a subway train, apparently. “Clothes. I don’t remember what.”

      She huffed out a sigh. “I’ll check it out myself, then.”

      This heightened sense of awareness was merely the product of the close confines and distinct lack of sex over the past few months. Maybe if he could get a dress on her, and they got the hell out of this very private hotel room, he could breathe again.

      Obviously, he had more in common with his hormonally driven father than Jason would have liked.

      She unzipped the garment bag on top of the pile and squealed. “Oh, Jason.”

      His name in her throaty come-and-get-me voice washed over him, tightening the already massive erection he probably wasn’t hiding as well as he hoped.

      Who was he kidding? It didn’t matter if they left the hotel room; this evening was going to suck regardless because he couldn’t think about anything but sex where Meredith was concerned.

      He put some steel in his spine and pulled the glittery dress from the hanger. “It’s one of Allo’s. Vogue revealed it in a spread last week, but it’s not in stores yet. I thought you might like to be the first woman to wear it out.”

      “What?” Her mouth gaped. “Me? You want me to wear a just-revealed dress designed by Allo to a fashion-industry event?”

      Undisguised glee radiated from her expression and he forgot what he’d been about to say. Why did pleasing her make him feel as if he’d been given a gift?

      “Put it on,” he said, his voice husky and foreign. He cleared his throat. “I want to see it on you.”

      She complied, sliding her lithe legs through the opening at the top and gathering it into place against her torso. Then she presented her back, lifted her dark fall of gorgeous hair away and called over her shoulder, “Zip me up?”

      Since his fingers were already straining for the zipper before she’d finished speaking, it seemed the answer was yes. He crossed to her and her heat reached out to engulf him. Slowly, he skated the zipper up its track, following the line of her bare flesh above it with his gaze.

      Wrong way, his brain screamed. Unzip! Unzip!

      He resisted. Barely. But his fingers wouldn’t let go of the zipper pull, even though the dress was as zipped as it could be. Meredith’s exotic perfume wrapped around him and somehow, his nose was nearly buried in her still-damp hair. It smelled like green apple. He sucked in a breath and the combination of scents and the essence of her wove through his senses.

      She swayed, brushing his arousal with her shapely rear. He sought the curve of her waist, meaning to push her forward a step but instead rested his hands there as he drew her backward, flush with his body. Her head tipped back against his shoulder and she moaned so sexily, the answering spike of lust nearly blinded him.

      So he shut his eyes and let his lips trail down her exposed throat. She tasted decadent and sinful and he wanted to sink into her.

      “Jason,” she murmured and twisted in his arms to peer up at him, her gaze heavy with unconcealed desire.

      The kiss they’d shared roared back on a wave of unsuppressed memory and he ached to lay his lips on hers again. Her face tipped up, bringing her mouth within centimeters of his and paradise was within his reach.

      But then she murmured his name again and said, “I’m absolutely okay with being really late to the gala. But are you?”

      Rationality swamped him and cooled his ardor in a snap. “Yeah, no. Not really.”

      He stepped back. Meredith’s mystifying and infuriating pull on him hadn’t diminished, that was for sure. He didn’t like it when someone had that much leverage over him, especially when he couldn’t envision how she’d use it to her advantage.

      Best-case scenario, she’d use it to get him into bed and leave it at that. He didn’t ever count on best-case scenarios and besides, she’d have to try a lot harder to break his will.

      His subconscious dissolved into gales of laughter and then reminded him that she’d been the one to halt what had almost turned into an invigorating reintroduction to the pleasures of his wife’s body.

      “All right, then.” She smiled softly and he ignored the slight hitch it put in his gut. “Stop being so sexy and we’ll have a much better shot of getting through the door.”

      He rolled his eyes. “The rest of the clothes are for you, too. I heard a rumor that you made a faux pas by wearing Alexander Wang your first day on the job. Allo is jealous of him. He wanted that Balenciaga job that Wang landed.”

      If Jason had known that weasel of a vice president in HR would stick Meredith with Allo, he’d have specified otherwise. Too late now. He couldn’t risk pulling any strings to get her reassigned or someone might get suspicious. But he could help her earn some points with her extremely difficult boss and the new clothes would accomplish that like nothing else. Allo was a narcissist to the core.

      Meredith raised a brow. “Why, exactly, did you need me as a spy when you apparently already have plenty?”

      “Nobody gossips about anything relevant to my merger plans.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Only what people are wearing. Welcome to the world of fashion. And now you have a wardrobe worthy of the design floor at Hurst House.”

      The new wardrobe was also a bit of a thank-you, and he hoped she liked what he’d painstakingly picked out among the castoffs from Fashion Week.

      “Wait, there’s more than this dress? I figured the other bags held backups in case this one didn’t fit.” Meredith dug through the garment bags and squealed some more over the geometric dresses, skirts and angular tops from Hurst’s newest line. None of it was available in stores yet, either.

      “There you go insulting me again. You can try all of it on later,” Jason advised. “We should leave. I have an out-of-the-way place in mind for a quick dinner. I’m sorry I can’t take you to Nobu, or some place you might enjoy more, but we can’t chance being photographed together.”

      She gave him an indecipherable look. “You don’t have to take me to dinner at all. We’re not dating. Just married.”

      “Which is why I should take you to dinner. Don’t you think a wife should be treated better than a woman I’m simply dating?”

      “Well...yeah.” She tossed