"I'm trying to drive."

  "Keep trying." I kissed his cheek, leaving a pink smear of lip gloss behind. "If you had a smart car, this wouldn't be a problem."

  I retreated to the confines of my seat. "There. Our first kiss. Was it as good for you as it was for me?" I laughed. "We're going to have to try a kiss Grandma wouldn't give you before we get to the wedding venue."

  I swear his Adam's apple bobbed. Was he actually nervous? A billionaire who all the women wanted? It made no sense.

  "Maybe we're the kind of couple who is saving their first real kiss for their wedding," he teased.

  I laughed. I mean laughed. "No way. I hope you're joking. We are not going to be one of those fake couples who doesn't kiss. I'm not being in even a fake relationship with a man I haven't kissed and am supposed to be in love with. Everyone who knows me knows I'm affectionate. If you'd seen me in the beginning with Mitch—"

  Wrong thing to say. I corrected course. "If there's no kiss, how do you know there's real sexual chemistry?"

  "I went to a wedding last summer where the couple hadn't kissed before their wedding kiss," he said. "They're still married and happy together."

  "Let me guess—the kiss was slobbery and awkward, and overexaggerated, because neither of them knew how to manage the simple seduction of a kiss. And they were doing it in front of an audience. Personally, I don't want a guy who's never been kissed. I prefer a guy with experience."

  "You've seen a virgin kiss?" He turned onto the freeway.

  "I'm in the wedding industry," I said. "I've seen everything. I worry about what their wedding night was like. I hope they knew which bit went where."

  He laughed. "Only experienced men need apply. Duly noted."

  Within minutes, we were on the freeway. Traffic was light going out of the city.

  Dex liked to weave and zip. I supposed the Porsche should have tipped me off. Fortunately, he was an expert driver. Talented, even.

  I relaxed. He didn't seem intent on cutting other people off. And he wasn't reckless. We'd probably avoid a drive-by shooting or road rage.

  "Who's watching Charlie?" I asked out of the blue. But it had been on my mind. If he'd given me Carol…

  "Mom and Dad," he said. "They love Charlie, and he loves them. They spoil him rotten. It'll take me days to get him behaving again."

  "What? You're not using your own services?"

  "I usually do," he said. "But you have Carol this weekend, and Mom and Dad begged. I hate it when they beg."

  He looked ahead in traffic. "I should warn you," he said as we zipped along, weaving in and out. "There will be plenty of photographers at this wedding."

  "Eh," I said, playing it cool. "I expected as much. Weddings do have them, you know."

  "Yeah, but…" He switched lanes. "You seem a little camera-shy. Which is why I'm warning you. There will be cameras everywhere. And probably some that don't belong. Charles Kangley is a high-profile guy from a longtime Seattle family. An intrepid photographer could sell some shots of the festivities for a few bucks."

  "What do you mean, camera-shy?" My heartbeat sped up. The man was too observant. I was pretty sure he was referring to my online presence.

  "All I'm saying is that I hope you brought a big-ass hat. You can go British on us at this wedding. Look rakishly hot with your flowered hat tipped over one eye. How good are you with the accent?"

  I scowled at him. "Did you see a hatbox in my luggage?"

  "Now that you mention it—no." He laughed. "Sunglasses fit in your purse," he added. "They work, too. Jackie O always wore them to frustrate the paparazzi. If they worked for her, they'll work for anyone. A person would almost get the idea you're hiding something."

  "Really?" I said, trying to play it cool. "It's no secret I have secrets. I told you so in my dossier. And even fake boyfriends will have to deal with them. I made that quite clear."

  I turned sideways to face him. "Are you objecting at this late date?" I was treading on thin ice here. If he remembered…

  "Not at all." His face and voice were masked. "Just giving you a heads-up so you can avoid a headshot."

  Diversionary tactics were necessary. I waved the cookie box in front of him. "You might have noticed his beautiful box on my lap. I brought you a present. I made it myself."

  "I saw that box. Do I smell chocolate? And cookies?" His face lit up.

  "Chocolate chunk cookies." I opened the box and ran it under his nose so he could get a whiff of deliciousness. I held a cookie up so he could see for himself how mouth-watering they were. "Made with locally sourced chocolate and double-strength vanilla. The chocolate is dark, creamy. Decadent." I sighed and rolled my eyes heavenward. I was making myself hungry.

  The road ahead was straight and clear. It was the perfect time to make my move.

  I waved the cookie in front of him. As he reached for it, I snatched it away playfully.

  He turned his head toward me and tried to grab the cookie. As he did, still holding the cookie, I took his face between my hands and pressed my lips to his, letting him smell the chocolate in my hand.

  I kissed gently at first. Then more insistently.

  I darted my tongue in and out and ran it around his lips.

  He let go of the wheel with one hand and caught me at the back of the neck, pulling me into a deep, lush kiss. He held me in place, kissing me as if possessing me was his full intent. As if I was the only thing that mattered, now or ever.

  Many guys have kissed me competently. A few seductively. But very few had ever taken my breath away. Not like this. Or made me forget time and space. Where I was. And maybe even my own name. None had made me want to lean into them and taste them all the way to their soul.

  His kiss was bruising and powerful. Passionate enough that an involuntary moan escaped me.

  I closed my eyes and leaned into him. If this was backfiring on me, so be it. I'd take it.

  I felt a surge of desire and energy…as the car accelerated. The engine revved.

  Clarity came back to me. How long had we been kissing? How fast were we going? How long would we stay on the road if we went on like this?

  I struggled to pull away. Dex held me tight.

  I opened one eye, hoping he had one eye on the road.

  His eyes were closed. Crap.

  I gestured toward the road with the cookie.

  He opened one eye and released me. He shrugged, grinning.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My lips were puffy from his kiss. I was unsettled.

  He had complete control—of the car, and apparently his nerves. We were still in the middle of our lane and on the road.

  "Who was driving?" I asked.

  "Huh," he said. "Maybe this car has a few self-driving features after all." He was side-eyeing the road and still steering. He lightly tapped the steering wheel. "Good job, baby."

  Good job, indeed. That kiss had been too real. And that car wasn't driving itself.

  "Eyes back on the road." I hitched my thumb that direction.

  He shrugged and complied.

  He had a smear of decadent dark chocolate on his cheek from where I'd held my cookie against it.

  "You have chocolate on your face." Before he could react, I licked it off. I caught him by surprise again.

  "Your licks are almost as good as Bella's," he quipped.

  "Almost?" I rolled my eyes.

  "I'm not used to beautiful women licking me on the cheek. Dogs are another matter."

  "I guess I'm glad you didn't lump me in with the dogs." I leaned back in my seat. "Back to our kissing—good acting. As a wedding professional who's seen a lot of kisses, I'm confident we're capable of competently faking hot chemistry."

  I cleared my throat. "Just remember how to do that in front of people. Maybe without quite so much vigor."

  "I'm always vigorous," he said.

  I ignored him. "A private performance is one thing. An audience is something completely different. Stage fright gets the best of us."

  "I've never had any problem performing." He waggled his brows and snatched the cookie out of my hand. "Time for a snack. Let me taste your baking."

  The look he gave me said he wanted to taste way more than the way I made chocolate chunk cookies.

  Chapter 15

  Shelby (Resorter, cookie eater, fake-boyfriend kisser, wisher for an online method acting class.)

  By the time we arrived at the resort, Dex had eaten half the box of cookies. And I'd had a few. The way he polished off cookies, I had no idea how he maintained his sleek physique. He claimed he had a personal trainer named Stryker who was going to kick his butt from here to the moon once he found out about my baking. Those cookies didn't have a prayer of settling around his waist, according to him.

  "You could join me in a workout," he said. "Stryker enjoys group punishment."

  "I only had two cookies," I said, playing demure. "One online exercise session should take care of them."

  We drove into the mountains, down a long, private road, and through a wrought-iron guarded gate. Dex had to give the guard a QR code to scan.

  "No wedding crashers," I said, thinking aloud.

  "Shouldn't be," he said. "Have you seen many?"

  "Enough. Most of them harmless. Some of them people who get a thrill out of going to weddings and pretending to be distant relatives or long-forgotten friends. Some of them terribly disruptive and disturbing to the brides. And I've heard some even worse stories. People who show up to try to stop the weddings. Exes, that kind of thing."

  "Set your mind at ease," he said. "No one will be crashing Adam and Chrissy's wedding."

  The power of money and a good gate.

  The woods were lush and lovely and full of rhodies and spring flowers as we drove through. Gorgeous to see and uplifting. We finally drove past a golf course with a view of mountains that was to die for.

  "The falls should be spectacular," Dex said. "The mountain runoff is good this time of year. We're almost there."

  We came around a bend and there was the lodge, perched at the top of a waterfall, its windows sparkling like gems in the sunshine. The lodge was deceptively rustic on the outside, but pure elegance inside. Or so I'd heard. I'd never been inside, but I'd heard the stories and urban legends from my colleagues who'd been lucky enough to get a wedding gig here. And, of course, I'd checked out the photos available online.

  This was a venue that only the rich could afford. Unlike Snoqualmie Falls, which was open to the public, this resort was a well-kept secret as the playground of the wealthy. The golf course was private. The falls were nearly as tall as Snoqualmie's. The lodge had a deck on the falls side that was the perfect wedding venue. The resort boasted a spa, a world-class restaurant, a bakery with a topnotch pastry chef at the helm, a florist, and several high-end shops in case you needed either resort wear or a last-minute tie for dinner.

  Although my run-away-from wedding venue had similar amenities, it was the low-rent version of this venue.

  Dex pulled the car to a stop in front of the lodge and prepared to hop out.

  I grabbed his arm. "The games begin now. No more social distancing between us. No more acting like two strangers politely getting to know each other. If you want this fake relationship to work, this is where we sell it. The moment we set a foot out of this car, we're two people in insta-love." I was actually enjoying this.

  Fake relationships were so much more fun, in a way, than real ones. Different stresses, I guess. Which made it exciting.

  "Yeah, well, I'm paying you to do a great job."

  "Paying me!" I shook my head. "I'm not a whore. You're not paying me anything. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. And just so you know, I'm an alpha personality. An overachiever. If anything, I'm going to be so convincing that people will grieve forever when we break up, wonder how their own eyes had deceived them so badly. You'd better keep up your end of the bargain."

  "I'm an alpha dog myself. Good luck. Keep up." He grinned and hopped out of the car. He handed his keys to a valet. "Dex Rushford. Shelby Hudson. We're checking in."

  I slid my arm through Dex's and cuddled into him. If I said I didn't feel a zing of attraction, I would have been lying. His arm was rock hard with muscle, and he smelled delicious. I was going to have a hard time keeping my hands to myself with this fake boyfriend.

  But, after all, I deserved a little fun with a billionaire, didn't I? Something to tell the grandkids someday. Did I ever tell you about the time I dated a billionaire…

  "Yes, sir," the valet said. "We'll get your bags to your room." The reverence he treated Dex with was impressive.

  Dex took my hand.

  "You're going to trust him with my dress?" I whispered in his ear as if telling him a great secret. Or telling him how hot he was.

  "I'm trusting him with my car," he whispered back.

  "Yeah, but your car is insured." I squeezed his hand and looked gooey-eyed into his deep blues.

  He returned my squeeze. "He's expecting a big tip. He'll take good care of the dress. If he doesn't, I'll buy you a new one."

  "Before tomorrow? And have it tailored to cling to my body like a second skin?" A breeze ruffled the hem of my skirt and fluttered my hair into my face. "That dress fits perfectly."

  "Like first skin. Soft as a caress. I'll fly it in." He brushed my hair out of my face and tucked a lock behind my ear.

  He could be mesmerizing. Those eyes were so blue-violet.

  Dex gave a wistful look as the valet began unloading our luggage. "I'd love to stick around and watch someone else wrestle with that dress. It has a mean streak. It would be fun seeing someone else struggle with it."

  "It's temperamental, is all. You can hardly blame it. All divas are." I sized up the valet. "I don't know about fun. His butt isn't as nice as yours. This Stryker guy obviously hasn't kicked his."

  Dex grinned. "I'll pass the compliment along to Stryker. This way."

  Inside the lobby, a fire crackled in an oversized fireplace against the far wall. Every table was decorated with fresh floral arrangements. Not just any floral arrangements, either. Arrangements only an artist could create.

  I recognized the signature style of Puget Sound's top floral artist, and the hand-blown glass vases they were in. All in what I assumed were the wedding colors—shades of pink and gray. Nice. Very elegant.

  I knew a thing or two about the costs. The vases started at several hundred apiece. The flower arrangements would set you back at least another hundred each, probably a lot more given the selection of flowers and the size. I lost the math before I could get a quick total of just the floral wealth in that room.

  Pastries, cookies, chocolates, and tea and coffee were set out on a table covered in a cloth in pale pink. Guests were gathered in cozy groupings on the casual-looking, but obviously expensive, leather chairs and sofas.

  A group of men dressed in gray golf shirts walked past us out of the lobby, carrying their clubs.

  A tall, gray-haired man sitting near the entrance rose to his feet. "Dex!" He pulled Dex into a bear hug. "You're one of the last to arrive. The golf tournament has already started. You just have time to check in and make a quick pit stop before your tee time."

  Dex stepped out of the hug.

  The man looked to me. "Who's this?"

  "Charles, I'd like you to meet Shelby Hudson. She's my plus-one for the weekend. Shelby, Charles Kangley, father of the groom."

  "And host of this shindig," Charles said. "The actual wedding is Chrissy's family's deal. But all the pre-wedding events are ours."

  Charles made a point of looking around. He elbowed Dex. "Where's Charlie? When you RSVPed for a plus-one at the last minute, I was half expecting you to bring him as your date. Shelby is a pleasant surprise." He winked at me.

  "Come over and meet the welcoming committee." Charles guided us to a group of people nearby. "Jane, Dex is here."

  An elegant, casually dressed woman rose to her feet from a sofa. "Dex!" She hugged him as a young couple seated nearby stood.

  Introductions flew as I was introduced to Jane, Charles's wife, and the bridal couple—Adam and Chrissy. Adam looked like a young version of his father, striking and athletic. Chrissy was pretty and seemed nice. She appeared to adore Adam and was comfortable and at ease in the surroundings and with the family. I tried to guess, from just this first glimpse, how happy they'd be together. It was a game I played with myself with my wedding clients.

  "Where's Paige?" Charles asked. "She's supposed to be part of this party."

  As he spoke, a cute, in a nerdy way, young woman came up behind Dex and covered his eyes. She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear loud enough for me to hear, "Guess who?"

  "A Paige from my life?"

  She laughed and pulled her hands away from his eyes. He spun and gave her a hug. In my opinion, she lingered too long.

  I stood silently by, waiting to be acknowledged.

  Finally, Paige turned to me. "You must be Plus-One." It was a careless and cruel statement. Not playful at all.

  "Shelby," I said.

  "Shelby." She studied me, not looking pleased with what she saw. That much was obvious. She was clearly the misfit in her family. Short and nerdy to her brother and parents' tall, athletic looks.

  I hoped her disapproval meant I was worthy competition. I took Dex's hand again.

  "I hope you can golf," Paige said. "Our grand tournament is about to start. You're in a foursome with this duffer." Paige rolled her eyes. "We're playing best ball and giving prizes for closest to the tee and longest drive, that kind of thing. If you can golf at all, you might be able to save Dex." She grabbed his arm and squeezed it.

  "I don't golf at all," I said. "I have complete faith Dex will carry the day." I smiled at him like a woman in love. Did I sound too gushy-gooey? Did I care?

  Paige shrugged. "We have plenty of other activities planned. Maybe you'll excel at one of them." She looked doubtful. "What is it you're good at?"

  "Crafts. Art. Board games." Men.

  "Sorry. We're a little short on most of those. Artistic, are you? What is it you do for a living?" Paige cocked her head, more like she was sizing up the competition than really interested in what I had to say.