“Open the door, Luna!”

  “No Luna here!” I call out in a falsely low voice. Ugh, I sound like a voiceover dub for an anime or something.

  And they clearly aren’t buying it either. “Not funny. Open the door, wife.”

  Wait, what?

  There’s only one person who would call me that, but it doesn’t sound like Carter out there. Unless he drank three espresso energy drinks, followed them with enough sugar to make an elephant get the jitters, and then got a case of mad cow disease.

  I climb out from my hidey-hole and peek out the peephole. It’s Carter, but not like I’ve ever seen him. He looks . . . shook. Curious, I open the door. “You look like—”

  Carter pushes past me, barging into my apartment.

  I glare at his back and mutter, “Well, come on in, I guess.”

  He pays no attention to my sarcasm as I wave my hands around, mimicking a welcoming host. As I close the door, Carter helps himself to my refrigerator. Grabbing one of the craft beers I keep stocked for Zack, he twists off the cap and takes a long draw from the bottle.

  I tilt my head, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow and an intrusive thought of what it would feel like to lick over the stubble on his jaw and down to kiss his neck pops into my head.

  What!?

  I don’t want to do that. That’s ridiculous.

  Ahh, maybe this is a dream.

  That could be true. Since I got back from Elena’s, sex-filled nightmares where Carter and I turn that fake sex very real are disturbing my sleep. This is probably one of those. I must’ve fallen asleep while working, and voila . . . Carter appears. I wonder if this’ll be the one where he holds my jaw while feeding me. And I don’t mean food.

  “Feeling better?” I ask.

  He swallows once more and then licks his lips. Wiping the slight sheen from his mouth with the back of his hand, he looks at me with eyes filled with torture. “All day, all night, I’ve played out every scenario possible, every variation. I’ve been over it a million ways, maybe more. I want you to know that. You have to understand. There’s no other way.”

  He’s ranting wildly as though I have any idea what he’s talking about.

  “What? I’ve never seen you like this. You’re scaring me.” I take a slow step back as tingles of fear dance over the nape of my neck. He looks crazed and desperate—his normally neat hair mussed, his tie gone, his dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the neck—but it’s his eyes that bore into mine that look the most different. Carter always seems confident and in control, even when unexpected things are thrown at him. But right now, he’s looking at me as though . . .

  I’m his salvation?

  I’m no such thing. I couldn’t save someone else from a fly. I can’t even save myself from myself.

  He covers the space between us while I’m still frozen in place, too stupid to run and too intrigued to speak. He drops his beer bottle to the counter and firmly grabs around my upper arms with both hands.

  I feel the pressure and realize that this is no dream. I’m wide awake and completely confused. “Carter—”

  “You have to help me, Luna,” he says, his voice low and rough and desperate . . . and sexy as fuck. “Please.”

  The plea in his voice strikes directly into my heart. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

  I don’t know what I’m agreeing to, but it can’t be worse than what I’ve already done. Right? And I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about disagreeing with crazy people when they have ahold of you. As in, don’t do it.

  “Really?” He shakes me a little bit, lifting me to my toes. My hands find their way to his stomach, pressing for balance as I look up at him. There’s a spark of electricity in the space between us.

  “Of course?” The questions are bubbling up, but I don’t have a chance to ask.

  “Yes . . .” The word of relief becomes a breath as his lips meet mine. It’s so much like my dreams that I fall into it at first.

  He tastes like beer and bad decisions. Especially when his mouth moves against mine and his hands move from their squeezing grip on my arms to a gentle caress of my jaw, keeping my face tilted up to him as he moves me the way he wants to.

  But this is real.

  I should stop him. Deep down, I know that this is a bad idea for so many reasons.

  But Carter Harrington is a good kisser. I was definitely right about that, and that’s enough to make any reasonable thought fade away given how pent up I am and how, despite my stubborn avoidance and denial, this has been coming since that first night of tutoring.

  So I kiss him back, hoping I’m half as talented as he is. Hell, I’d settle for a quarter as good, considering the difference in experience between the two of us.

  But I don’t need practice to know that the heat building in my core is fierier than any I’ve ever felt. I take the opportunity to answer my own earlier question and lick along his jawline, the blonde stubble prickling my tongue, and then place an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck when he lets his head fall to the side. I feel the pulsing of his heartbeat in his throat and I answer with a moan of my own.

  It’s the last bit of control Carter lets me have. He lifts me in a swoop that makes my stomach flip and sets me on the counter, pressing my legs open to accommodate him between my knees. Before I can say a word, he returns to kissing the stuffing out of me.

  I whimper when his hand encircles my neck, not squeezing but just letting me know he’s there and in charge. “Do you like that?” he groans against my mouth. “My good girl, Luna?”

  A sound of needy hunger is all the agreement I can make, but it’s not enough for him.

  “Tell me.” He kisses my cheek, a soft press of his lips that contrasts with the squeeze of his hand. “Tell me,” he repeats, his breath hot on my ear, and then he nips my lobe with his teeth.

  “Y–y–yes.” If he’d been looking me in the eye, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to admit that. But with the tip of his tongue teasing over the shell of my ear, I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. He rewards me with another kiss, and his free hand grips my hip, squeezing the flesh there more sharply than my neck, and I squirm, delighting in his touch.

  “You like it rough? Want me to bend you over this counter and take you from behind with one hand on your ass and one on your throat while I slam into your pussy?” He lays sweet kisses over my face as he asks the filthy question, painting a picture I won’t soon forget.

  It reminds me of the way he spoke when we faked sex, and it sounds amazing, sexy and wonderful. But I’ve never done that, and I need a second to think.

  “I–I–I don’t know?”

  That’s not the answer Carter’s looking for, and the moment of craziness breaks. His hand gentles on my throat as he presses his forehead to mine, moving his head left to right as though he can’t believe he kissed me.

  “You’re a lifesaver.” He sighs, the tension palpable between us.

  “I am?” I whisper, wishing he were still kissing me. Which is weird because I don’t even like Carter Harrington. At least not in that way.

  But my body sure does. I’m vibrating with heat and want.

  His thumbs brushes over my cheeks, and he pulls away, leaving warm traces on my skin that tingle without his touch. His hands run through his hair, mussing the strands even more, and his eyes take on the desperate glint once again as the haze of our kiss fades.

  “It’s all fucked up. So fucked. And I need your help, Luna. You said you’ll help.”

  He’s desperately reminding me, as though I haven’t been paying attention since he came in. “I will, but with what? What’s going on?”

  “You’re not gonna believe this. I still don’t.” He tells me about his day at work and how his dad has taken over wooing Elena Cartwright for Blue Lake Assets.

  “That’s your contract, though.” I’m defending him as though I’ll benefit in some way from his getting the deal with Elena.

  “I know, but nobody argues with Dad. He thinks he’s doing the right thing. I spent the whole evening going over it, looking for any way around him or a way I could get Elena to sign without a family dinner. But there’s no way.” He shakes his head vacantly, his mind not here in the kitchen with me but likely going over the options he’s already considered and rejected.

  “Now what?” I ask, trying to fill in this very unclear picture. “Do you need to call Elena?”

  His eyes meet mine and he says flatly, “I did.” Adding in a high-pitched voice I think is supposed to be Elena, he says, “She was completely delighted to be invited to dinner, said she’s looking forward to meeting the man in charge of Blue Lake, and the fella who taught me how to work an investment portfolio.” He shrugs, blinking as he does so. “I didn’t tell her that I learned a lot from Dad, but it was really Professor Malkin in college who taught me the most about diversified portfolios.”

  “So she’s coming to dinner. That’s good, isn’t it?”

  I’m trying to keep up with his manic switches from ranting to kissing me and back to ranting, while consciously ignoring the heat between my legs. Carter stops pacing and pins me with a hard stare. “She said she’s looking forward to dinner with us again. Us, as in you and me.”

  Finally, I realize why he’s freaking out because I begin freaking out worse than he is. I hop down from the counter, brushing past Carter as I look for an escape that my small apartment doesn’t provide. “No way, nope, nuh-uh, not doing that again.”

  “You have to. You already said you’d help me,” he informs me, seemingly thinking I’ve forgotten my response from mere minutes ago.

  Trust me, bucko. I won’t be forgetting anything about tonight.

  “Help you? I thought you meant like you wanted me to go over art with you some more!” I can hear how ridiculous that sounds once I say it aloud, but I can’t sit with sweet old Elena Cartwright and lie to her again. I feel guilty enough as it is.

  “Please,” Carter begs, making puppy dog eyes at me. “There’s no other way. I’ve been over it again and again.” He huffs a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I’ve looked from every angle, from the KISS solutions to the ridiculous. None of them will work.”

  Plopping down onto my couch, I cover up with the blanket there, needing to put barriers between us after what just happened. I can’t tell him no when I can still taste the beer from his kiss. “Can’t you tell her I’m busy that night or something?”

  Carter shakes his head. “That’d only bring up more questions.”

  “More questions than showing up to dinner with a wife your family knows nothing about?” I ask incredulously.

  “If we come in together, Elena knows and likes you, and they’ll just think we’re together. They wouldn’t dream of arguing in front of a potential client. It would serve no purpose.” He seems sure, but I can’t imagine a family where a surprise wife wouldn’t be cause for alarm and a whole laundry list of questions.

  He drops to the floor in front of the couch, his hands gathering mine in his. Looking me in the eye, he says earnestly, “Please.”

  I stare at him for a long moment, wanting to say no.

  He moves closer, until our lips are mere inches apart, as he whispers, “Please, Luna. I need you. Please.”

  His kiss this time is gentle, his tongue probing as his lips move over mine. It feels as though he’s savoring me, and I get lost in him. I lean forward, hungry for more, and he weaves his hands into my hair, holding me in place as he takes my breath. And along with it, my doubts and worries.

  “Okay,” I whisper against his lips.

  I’m not sure why I agree. The smart thing to do would be to leave Carter alone, walk away from this fake marriage thing he’s still running on Elena, and tell Zack he owes me an entire library worth of books.

  “Really?” He breaks the kiss, pulling back the slightest bit so I can see his smile is hopeful and full of promise. He rises to the couch, sitting next to me. His eyes are clearing, his focus centering.

  I can’t think of an argument, or at least not one I haven’t already tried, so I nod silently, though I do wonder if I’m getting played by Charming Carter the same way he’s playing Elena.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I’m not sure about any of this, but he sounds so deeply grateful that I can feel a blush heating my cheeks.

  “I need to give you the rundown on my family so you’re ready.” He’s back to all business in a blink, and my head spins.

  How can he do that? Go from kissing to clear-headed?

  “Ready?” I will never be ready for this. I’m the antithesis of ready to meet my fake husband’s family, especially when they’re the freaking Harringtons and I’m an awkward, introverted artist whose idea of fancy dress is non-paint-spattered overalls. In a moment of wishful thinking, I ask, “How bad could they be?”

  “They’re not bad, exactly, just Harringtons, and that comes with a lot of baggage. A lot of baggage,” he repeats.

  “You’re coaching me on how to meet your family as your fake wife, and you think they have baggage?” I question.

  He chuckles at the dig. “I really appreciate this.” His eyes drop to my hands, where I’m fidgeting with the blanket. “And I’m sorry for . . . before.”

  He’s talking about the aggression in the kitchen and how it differs from the sweeter kiss we just shared. But if we’re getting to know each other, I need to be honest with him. “I’m not.”

  He gives me a cocky, heated smirk, and I wonder if I maybe should’ve kept that to myself. “Let’s start with the easy ones,” he says instead of torturing me with that info. “You’ve already met Kyle . . .”

  “Wait! Let me get my notecards so I can study before dinner.” This will be so much worse than a test or memorizing the tour information. I will need to know these people backward and forward and respond to them in real time as if we’ve been family for a while so that I can fool Elena. And pray that Carter’s right about his family not questioning my sudden appearance in front of a guest.

  With notecards and my favorite pen in hand, Carter tells me about his family. He’s right . . . they’re a lot. And I have to have dinner with them as Carter’s wife.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  CARTER

  If Dad’s office at work is hell, his home office is purgatory. It’s equally his domain, but there’s no façade of professionalism, and the only hope of rescue is Mom, and she tends to stay out of office politics and projects as much as possible.

  And this is firmly into the realm of a company project, at least in her eyes.

  “What else do I need to know? Any updates?” Dad asks. He’s been a bulldog on this, and his questioning’s been relentless. We’re sitting in leather chairs in front of the empty fireplace, a pre-dinner scotch in each of our hands. I take a sip, stalling as I take Dad’s measure.

  I think every teenage boy comes upon an age where they think they could out-man their father. I was fourteen when I thought that day had come. I don’t remember what we were fighting about, but I’d yelled, been disrespectful, and thrown out those infamous words, ‘wanna take this outside?’ and though Dad hadn’t wanted to, he’d gone with me, a resigned look on his face.

  I was wrong, and the fist-sized bruise he left on my gut after I’d tried and failed to land several punches was proof enough.

  As I got older, I realized that real power wasn’t in whether or not I could take Dad on mano-a-mano. It was in money, influence, and control, and he will always have more of those than I do. At least at Blue Lake.

  But this time, he’s the one who’s underestimating me.

  “I still don’t agree with this. You’re stomping right into and over my prospect when your heavy-handed approach isn’t warranted.”

  I’m trying hard to not sound like a whiny seagull—mine, mine, mine. Not sure I’m succeeding, though.

  “Noted,” Dad says agreeably but then adds, “It’s still happening. But consider your objection on the record.”

  He’s such a steamroller. A charming one, but a steamroller, nonetheless.

  Mentally, I evaluate the imaginary chess board we’re sitting at, searching for my best play. The end goal is to bring Elena on as a client. It’ll be good for Blue Lake, good for Elena, and admittedly, good for me. It’ll prove that I can stand up next to Cameron as the next generation of Harringtons, bringing in business, managing clients, and increasing revenue.

  My best move is to make sure that tonight is a resounding success.

  “Elena isn’t your usual fundraiser elbow-hobknobber,” I remind him. “She’s got more money than God but lives casually. You’re more likely to find her in the barn with her horse than attending a gala. She literally told me to drop the pomp and circumstance, so don’t overdo it. It’s a sure bet to turn her off Blue Lake.”

  Dad scoffs. “Everyone likes a little pageantry to make them feel important. Don’t worry about me. You just make sure you don’t underdo it. This could be a big deal for us.”

  He doesn’t understand at all. Not Elena, and not me. He’s usurped this deal without giving me a chance of succeeding on my own. And I was doing well with Elena without involving the family.

  I just needed Luna. I still need her.

  Once more, I consider my decision to spring Luna on my family in the middle of everything. Of course, the most obvious answer would’ve been to tell them about the fake wife situation ahead of time and hope they’d play along, but there’s no way that would’ve gone well. I can almost hear Dad yelling at me about treating this opportunity like a joke.

  Which I’m not.

  Having Luna arrive a few minutes after Elena is my best choice. No one in my family will risk being the fool who doesn’t know who Luna is during a professional dinner. We’re trained to nod along with whatever Dad says, and they’ll do the same for me. I hope.