Chapter Three
On the way to the men’s department at Elizabeth’s, Sutton and Reeve walked past the jewelry counters. Sutton was drawn to the necklaces and bracelets. She’d always been a bit like a squirrel—taken in by shiny objects. But she didn’t stop this time. Instead, she “tsk-tsked” the displays. “This store seriously needs some necklaces,” she said.
“Funny. I was thinking that myself,” Reeve joked.
She wagged a finger at him. “Aren’t you a playful one?”
“Take me to the park and throw me a Frisbee. See how high I can jump.”
“Oh, I might just take you up on that. I do like dogs.”
“Want to put a leash on me too?”
“Would you like that Reeve?” Sutton asked, in her best seductive voice. If they were going to be a pretend couple, then she was going to play at innuendo.
“I find that I’m generally open to pretty much everything. Want to do it outside? I’m your man. In front of the window with the neighbors across the street watching? Totally fine with that. On the stairwell in your office building? Put up the bat signal and I’m good to go.”
“Would you arrive with a cape too?” Sutton asked as they walked past glass displays with watches, gloves and scarves.
“Of course. I’m good with costumes. I could even put on a mask if you want,” he remarked, moving closer to Sutton to let a woman pushing a high-end baby stroller past them. He brushed Sutton’s shoulder as he leaned into her, and Sutton found herself making a mental note about how very nice his body felt against hers. Of course, it was good that she felt this way, right? It would help her win the contract. But to win the job, she also needed to make sure their backstory was airtight. This was like the prep work she’d do for any job. Whenever she pitched new producers, she was thoroughly and completely ready—she researched all their films or shows, watched everything they made, and studied up on interesting personal details, like whether they liked to collect sports cars or rare LPs.
“Lovely. I’ll keep the mask issue in mind. Now, let’s go over the details so everything is ironclad. I think we go with the truth as to how we met. We met when I cast you in a day part for It’s Raining Men. She already knows your name since you met her already.”
“Damn. I was really hoping to be a Sven.”
Sutton laughed and raised an eyebrow. “Sven?”
“Okay, so I’m Reeve Larkin from Ohio. My dad’s a cop. My mom’s a teacher. I went to Ohio State.”
Sutton rolled her eyes. “Please say you’re kidding.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s right out of central casting, Reeve! Cop dad and teacher mom? You’re the too-good-to-be-true boy from Middle America who went to the hometown college to boot.”
“It’s the truth, though. Studied American Lit for my major.”
“Okay, fine. And we started dating shortly after the premiere of It’s Raining Men six months ago.”
“Ah, so it all started up in May. I remember that. You looked so hot at the premiere in that slinky black dress.”
Sutton stopped walking and placed a hand on Reeve’s arm. “You remember what I wore?”
“You’re gorgeous. You cast me in a movie. Yes, I remember.”
Sutton pressed her teeth against her lower lip for just a second, fighting to ignore the feeling that swept through her. As if he’d tapped into something with his remark.
“So we went out the next night,” she said, continuing the fable of their love affair.
“To Italian,” he added. “Because that’s my favorite. What’s your favorite food?”
“Fish and chips.”
“Funny, doesn’t show.” He eyed her from head to toe.
“I walk my dog an hour a day.”
“That’s one lucky dog.”
“He deserves only the best. I need to buy him a new jacket though. It’s getting colder,” she said, remembering how The Artful Dodger had shivered on their morning power-walk in Central Park. Poor little love. Last year’s fleece jacket was a bit worn. He needed a new one very soon. “I also do yoga and pilates.”
“Of course. What’s your favorite book? Wait. It has to be Oliver Twist. Because of your dog.”
She flashed him another grin, impressed that he’d connected the dots between her dog’s name and the fictional character he was named for. “You are a bright one.”
“Well, I’d be an idiot if I hadn’t figured that out. Is he a pickpocket, your dog?”
“Nope. Trained him out of it. Your favorite book?”
“Toss up between Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or The Great Gatsby.”
“Favorite movie?”
“Anything you’ve cast,” he said with a wink.
“Oh, we are a perfect pair. That’s my favorite movie too.”
“Okay, when are we moving in together?”
“After the wedding. I have to protect my virtue, of course.”
“Right. Virtue. On the subject of virtue, what’s your favorite position?” Reeve asked as they walked past high-heeled shoes.
Sutton stopped. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I’m not buying the protecting-the-virtue thing. I doubt they will either. So, what is it?”
“I highly doubt that will come up at dinner. Besides, our deal was for pretend. So I don’t think we need to go there.”
“No. We don’t need to go there. But yet, that Janelle…” he let his voice trail off.
“What do you mean? That Janelle?”
“I don’t know, but her little casting couch comment made me think she’s not quite as conservative as she pretends to be.”
“And because of that we need to prepare a briefing doc on our fictional sex life?” She raised an eyebrow, daring him to keep going.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he swept a strand of her soft brown hair away from her ear, and asked in a low, sexy voice, “What could it hurt for me to know how you like it, Sutton?”
Oh, he was good. He was very, very good, because she felt that swooping feeling in her belly. But she wasn’t going to be rattled by it. She was going to play along too. Sutton took a step closer to Reeve, giving him a look as if he were a naughty boy. “Doggie style,” she whispered, then watched him closely. His chest rose and fell, and he pressed his lips together, as if he were trying to hold back a word, or maybe even a moan? Perhaps he was even picturing her naked on king-size bed, on all fours as he trailed a hand down her back. Good. They’d be all the more believable then as a couple. “What’s yours, Reeve?”
He locked eyes with her and she felt goosebumps on her arms. Then, he dipped in closer, his mouth inches away. “The one you like best. That’s my favorite. My favorite thing is making you feel good.”
She drew in a sharp breath, then clamped her lips closed. But it was too late. A fuse had lit inside her. Deep in her belly, sending heat throughout her body, sending warmth to between her legs. Then she reminded herself—he was an actor, he was playing the role she’d cast him in, and he was going to win an award, because the way he’d said making you feel good seemed so true and authentic. As if he meant it. As if Reeve really had made her feel all those things in the bedroom.
“We better get moving.” She led him to the men’s section, choosing several high-end dress shirts for him, sharp pants, and a few neat ties. She was grateful to segue away from the sex talk and onto the safer terrain of wardrobe.
“This shirt is perfect for your eyes.” She held a green button-down against him.
“I feel like Julia Roberts,” he joked.
“Cue the shopping scene montage.” This was better, she thought. Keep it light, keep it simple.
“May I help you with that?”
The question came from a dressing room attendant. Reeve nodded, and the cute, perky gal took the potential purchases and showed him a dressing room. Sutton sat on the leather couch in the nearby waiting area and took out her phone. She fired off a few quick replies to agents asking questions about tomorrow’s plastic surgeon audition—Were there pages? Yes, already attached. How should the actors dress? In scrubs. Clean shaven look or stubble? Stubble, but of course—all the while picturing Reeve pulling off his tee-shirt, standing there alone in the dressing room, shirtless, only jeans on.
Damn. He made it hard to concentrate. She took off her glasses and pressed on the bridge of her nose as if she could push away all the thoughts of him.
The attendant walked by. “If you want to go in and help your boyfriend choose a shirt, it’s totally fine with me.”
Apparently, Reeve had the same idea, because Sutton heard him call out to her. “Hey, Sut. I could use a little help.”
A boyfriend would definitely want to show potential purchases to his girlfriend, Reeve reasoned. This was part of the role, and he had to play it well. To impress her. But there was something else going on too. He’d thought he was playing her, but the way she talked about favorite positions, all smoky and breathy, it was like a rush of blood to the head. Now, he was picturing her, naked on a big king-size bed, on all fours, him trailing a hand down her gorgeous back.
So if they were playing pretend, he was going to enjoy it. He opened the door a bit, and watched her walk toward him. She had a hell of a body, a true hourglass shape, with a waist you just had to get your hands on. He could picture her on top of him, his strong fingers wrapping around her waist. Or she could be pressed against the wall, that fabulous sculpted ass of hers jutting out, and he could hold her that way.
His eyes drank her in as she gave a perfunctory rap of the knuckles on the open door.
“Funny. I thought you had clothes to show me.” She slid inside the dressing room. She tapped her fingertip against his naked chest. “Did you need me to help get your shirt on?”
“On. Off. Whatever you want.” He closed the door behind them.
“I think we were going for on, weren’t we?” she asked, sounding the tiniest bit breathy. Sutton couldn’t stop looking at him, Reeve noticed. She was damn near gaping at his chest and his abs. He worked out a lot. He had to look good for his job. No, he had to look a hell of a lot better than good.
“Okay. Let’s try this green one.” He started to reach for a shirt. She stopped him.
“You have a tattoo.” She pointed to the swirling calligraphy that lined one side of Reeve, from his hip bone up to his arm.
“You’ve seen my tattoo. If memory serves, you required shirts off for It’s Raining Men.”
“I know,” she started, but her voice was shaky. “I just haven’t seen it this close.”
“Want to touch?”
She nodded, and reached out a hand, as if she were mesmerized, as if she were lured in by some uncontrollable force toward his skin, his muscles, his body. She started at the hip bone, one fingertip making contact. She glanced up, and Reeve drew in a breath. In this moment, he wasn’t acting; he wasn’t playing as she trailed a finger up his taut, lean body. Everything about her touch made him buzz. He wanted to grab her and do everything, but he let himself give into the moment, to the way she seemed so drawn to the marks he’d made on his body.
“They look like very fancy Hs. Three Hs.”
“They are. For the three most important things in the world.”
“And those are?”
“Health. Happiness. And hope.”
She gave him a quick smile. “Yes. I agree.” Then she traced her fingertip from his chest down to his waist as if she were painting his skin. Her touch was as soft as a butterfly, but it was full of fire, and he liked it. He needed to make sure she liked being touched too, so their relationship was believable.
“You’re doing better now. More natural.”
She tilted her head as if to ask what he meant.
“You were all weird and awkward when I kissed you at your office,” he added.
“I’m sorry. I was just surprised.”
“I know. But we need to make sure you don’t jump the next time I kiss you.”
“We do?”
“Well that would give it away, wouldn’t it? You need to get used to being kissed by me.”
“Okay,” she said with a business-like nod.
“That means we need to practice.”
“Practice kiss,” she said slowly, then nodded quickly. “Right. Of course. Like actors. Like a stage kiss.”
She sounded chipper and cheery, as if she were trying to convince herself. She seemed to need the convincing, so he went along with it. “Think of this as a dress rehearsal. We’re prepping for the big kiss scene that makes the audience swoon and totally believe we’re in love. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Ready?”
“Right here in the dressing room?”
“What better place to rehearse a kiss than a dressing room?”
“Totally. Absolutely. Definitely.”
Reeve wondered how many more adverbs she’d need to utter before he kissed her. Perhaps they were a sort of liquid courage. Either way, he knew he had to lead. He suspected he had more experience with stage kisses.
So he looked at her, as if she were the woman he’d been dying to kiss for years. She was his leading lady, she was the only woman he wanted. She returned his gaze, and then it was as if a flame burst. Reeve pictured her ravenous and greedy, wanting to be consumed with kisses. Her lips were parted slightly, and her breathing had become…lustful. Maybe she was acting too. In that moment, he didn’t care. He wanted to taste her lips, he wanted to feel more of her beautiful body. There was something about her, maybe it was the age difference, her twenty-eight to his twenty-four, maybe it was the power play. But there was no time for analysis because his head was turning cloudy with a need he hadn’t had before. He wanted to do things to this woman. He wanted to make her feel the way a good boyfriend would—desired, wanted, craved. She deserved all that. He could give it to her now. He could give it to her for a week.
“You look like you want something,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer. She just licked her lips once. That was enough of an answer. That was all he needed. He moved behind her, brushed a strand of hair away from her neck, and pressed his naked chest against her back. He watched her in the mirror as she closed her eyes and sighed into him.
He started with her neck, pressing his lips gently against her skin. She smelled like some kind of shampoo, jasmine maybe, and she moaned the moment he touched her. It was like a chemical reaction, the two of them. They had that kind of physical attraction that smacks you hard, and turns you inside out in a second. Instant and electric, and you feel like you can set the world on fire. They could have known each other for years or been two strangers who met on a train—- their bodies were magnets for each other. With the softest of flutters, he kissed her neck, barely touching her, but touching her enough to make her move, to make her shift her hips against him. He ran his hands down her back, resting his strong palms on her waist, and she gasped. He worked his way to her ear, nibbling the earlobe, then kissing her jawline as she said his name in a low voice that gave all her desires away. “Reeve.”
Her voice was needy, full of want, and he grabbed hold of those hips and pulled them against him, so she could feel how hard he was through his jeans. She slid around, taking hold of his waist and bringing him close. He zeroed in on her red lips, first tasting the waxy flavor of red lipstick, then her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, crushing her lips in a way he was sure the audience would love, even though this kiss was only for her. She was amped up. He could tell by how she wriggled against him and pulled him closer. He was all about obliging this woman, so he responded, with a deeper and harder kiss. She was such an alpha woman in the workplace—all take-charge and full-speed-ahead. But here, in his arms, she was different. She seemed vulnerable, but maybe that was just because she was damn near quivering under his touch. As if she were letting down her guard. She was the sexy librarian unpinning her hair and taking off her glasses for him.
He longed to slide a hand between her legs, feel her panties, and see if she was as wet for him as he hoped she would be. But somehow that would be going too far. So he let himself exist in the heat of the kiss in the dressing room.
“Reeve,” she said, her voice thick with lust, and topped with a dollop of nerves.
“What is it, Sutton?”
“I—”
But she was cut off by a voice outside the dressing room. “How is it going in there? Are you finding anything to your liking?”
Reeve cleared his throat. “Yes. Everything is to my liking.”
The attendant walked away, and Reeve and Sutton stood, stupid and awkward, as if they’d been caught red-handed.
“So,” he said, drawing the word out as she brushed her hands against her skirt, looking everywhere but at him. “I guess that might seem a bit more believable now in case we have to kiss in front of anyone.”
“Yes. I think that might fit the bill.”
He reached for her chin, softly raising her face so she had to meet his eyes. “See. Rehearsals are fun.”
“Indeed,” she said, and shot him a smile that he recognized as the one she gave every actor after every audition. Fine, they needed to get back to business.
“I suppose I should figure out what I’m going to wear tomorrow,” Reeve said. Maybe the attendant’s visit was the reminder he needed too—this was a job, and he shouldn’t f*ck it up by feeling too much.
Sutton shifted gears, back to that sassy, in-control businesswoman. She swatted Reeve on the butt. “Okay, darling. Let’s get you in some clothes. Any pretend boyfriend of mine better look totally fetching for the theater.”
Reeve nodded, and slid his strong arms into a crisp button-down, modeling the shirt for Sutton. She curled up her lips, narrowed her eyes and nodded approvingly. He tried on a few more and she ticked each one off as a yes too.
“Lucky me. Who knew I was going to get a whole new wardrobe as a dashing, debonair man as part of this gig?”
“Isn’t that one of the great benefits of being an actor? You often get to take home the costumes.”