Warm air hit me as I stepped outside. It was only ten in the morning, but heavy heat already pressed against my skin, which meant we could look forward to a scorcher this afternoon. My mind quickly abandoned any thought of the weather as I took in Rafe leaning against his Pontiac.

  In all the “You look beautiful” stuff, I hadn’t processed what he was wearing. Surprising, since he was something to see, leaning against his car, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a lightweight cotton shirt in a blue that probably brought out his eyes, but I wouldn’t know because he was wearing cool-as-hell sunglasses. The shirt definitely brought out his muscles. It was fitted. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and he wore it loose over his light gray dress pants. A few buttons were left undone at the collar, showing off his strong, tan throat.

  Holy hotness, Superman.

  Dammit.

  As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, Rafe’s lips curled upward slightly in an arrogant smirk that was also too hot for my own good. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, which reminded me to pull mine out of my purse as I approached him. It gave me a reason to stop ogling him.

  He stepped away from the car, but only to open the passenger-side door.

  Always the gentleman.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  As I moved to get into the car, Rafe touched my lower back and brought his lips so close to my ear I felt them brush my skin. “Did I mention you look beautiful?”

  Goose bumps prickled my arms as I glanced up at him in surprise. He’d pulled his head up, but his body crowded mine and, while I couldn’t see his eyes, I could have sworn he was smoldering at me.

  What was going on? “Um . . . thanks?”

  Rafe grinned as if my response was hilarious, and a riot of butterflies exploded in my belly. I must have gaped too long, because he chuckled, “Are you getting in or are we celebrating the Fourth on your sidewalk?”

  “Oh, right. Fourth. Party. House. Harrison.” I dove into the car, my mind reeling.

  Was . . . Rafe Whitman flirting with me?

  But why? There was no one around to see it. It was just us.

  Confused, I didn’t speak as he got into the car and pulled out onto the street. Once we were off the island, we hit pretty heavy midmorning traffic heading upstate. Looked like we weren’t the only ones leaving the city for the weekend celebrations.

  I’d slipped my sunglasses on and kept shooting side glances out of the corner of them. Rafe handled stick with a confidence that was mesmerizing. The muscles in his forearms flexed now and then with his movements. It was unfair that every inch of him was beautiful. I mean, I hadn’t seen every inch, but usually people had some kind of flaw, right? That was what made them interesting. Rafe should be boring, he was that physically perfect. But he was anything but boring. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d been blessed with the body of a superhero. The man actually got up at five every weekday to work out at the gym in his building. He even had a trainer. When I’d asked him why he enjoyed working out, he said not only did the actual workout take his mind off everything else going on in his life, but he always felt great after it. Energized.

  I wondered how that energy would translate into the bedroom.

  Dammit.

  I ripped my gaze from his freaking forearm at the realization that his limb was turning me on. Bad fake girlfriend. I shook my head at myself.

  “You okay over there? You’re very quiet this morning,” Rafe observed. “Do you need water? There’s a cooler on the back seat with bottles of water and fruit juice. I’ve got snacks too. There are some breakfast bars, but there are also fresh bagels from the place around the corner from my building. I didn’t know if you’d eat before we left.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted the cooler and a net grocery bag brimming with food. On top of it was a white bakery box.

  Complimentary and considerate.

  Seriously, what was going on with him?

  “Do you want a bagel?” I asked. “I can hold it for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then, yeah, I’ve only had a protein shake this morning and I’m starving.”

  Nodding, I took off my seat belt to lean into the back.

  “Be careful,” Rafe murmured.

  As I wedged myself between the front seats, the car suddenly swerved.

  “Sorry, shit,” Rafe growled. “Asshole came out of nowhere. You okay?”

  I’d grabbed onto the back of the front seats, my nails digging into Rafe’s perfect ivory leather. My heart lurched—not gonna lie—but I was okay. I told him so. Then I returned to trying to reach for water and food.

  I thought I heard Rafe mutter something about his “own personal hell.”

  Frowning, I grabbed the bagels once I had the water and shimmied back into the front seat. “What?” I straightened out my dress, glad my boobs hadn’t popped free with all the movement.

  “What?” he repeated back at me.

  “You said something.”

  “Nope.”

  “Hmm.” I didn’t push it. Instead, I pulled my seat belt back on, placed the water in cup holders, and then opened the bagel box. “Breakfast bagels. Yum.” They’d already cut each of them in half for easier eating on the go. Probably a bagel no-no anywhere else, but I appreciated the practicality. I handed Rafe half of his.

  Feeding him while he drove and then making sure he was watered felt awfully girlfriendy, but I tried not to think about it, just as I tried not to think about his odd behavior. Although the grumpy, brooding man I’d met three months ago had gradually disappeared over the weeks, this was different. He was different. And I didn’t understand why.

  To steer my thoughts elsewhere, I asked Rafe about his week, and he told me that poor Finn had expressed a cavapoo’s anal glands the day before and the secretion had sprayed all over his face. I’d cackled at Rafe’s boyishly wicked enjoyment of it, but I’d also felt truly bad for Finn. Honestly. I knew my amusement suggested otherwise, but poor Finn.

  “We’ve all been there. He’s gotta learn.” Rafe shook his head, still grinning.

  The conversation lulled me back into a comfortable place and I told Rafe about my week. Thursday had been my best day because I had a four-year-old’s party at a preschool and I’d dressed as Elsa from Frozen while a colleague dressed as Anna.

  “The kids were so cute and excited. I love it when they really believe I’m the character. Their wonder and awe makes my week.” I beamed, thinking about the little birthday girl and how she’d clung to my sparkly blue skirts the entire time, smiling up at me like I was an angel. It made my chest throb just thinking about it.

  “I bet you make a gorgeous Elsa,” Rafe commented, shooting me a quick look. “The kids must have been in heaven.”

  What. The. Actual. Heck?

  “Are you practicing right now?” I blurted out.

  I could have sworn he restrained a smile, but he kept his head turned toward the road. “Practicing?”

  “The compliments. The flirty compliments.”

  His mouth definitely tugged upward. “Okay.”

  Okay? That wasn’t an answer! “Is that a yes? No? What?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Sure.”

  Sure to yes or no or what? I spluttered, “Are you being deliberately infuriating?”

  This time, he turned his head to grin at me before looking back at the road. “Am I?”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Rafe Whitman?”

  “Are you feeling okay?” He blindly reached toward me as if he wanted to touch my forehead.

  I slapped his hand away, laughter in my voice. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  Rafe chuckled as he returned his hand to the wheel. “That is very true.”

  A tingle burst to life between my legs at the flirty rumble in those words, and I squirmed in my seat.

  Yeah . . . I was very, very confused.

  * * *

  • • •

  When we first arrived at his parents’ house, Rafe continued to be affectionate and sweet, but now we had an audience. Guests had only just started arriving for the weekend house party, and Rafe kissed me on the mouth in front of his family before he told me he was taking our luggage to our rooms.

  “Oh, room, darling,” Jen corrected. “As in singular. We don’t expect you two to pretend like you don’t share a bed. And frankly, I needed the other rooms for guests.”

  Rafe stared at his mother, a frown between his brows. “You always put Camille and me in separate rooms. It drove her up the wall.”

  Jen shrugged. “That’s because I didn’t like her.”

  Gigi hooted. “Momma Jen keeping it real with some honesty. I love it!”

  Jen rolled her eyes at her daughter’s antics, but I could see the amusement there.

  Then Gigi wrapped her arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her. “Looks like someone approves, gorgeous.”

  My cheeks flushed and I’m sure they thought it was humble modesty. But it wasn’t. The heat was part guilt and part holy shit, I’m stuck sharing a room with Rafe for the weekend.

  As if she had read my mind, Gigi whispered in my ear, “Don’t feel guilty. Trust me, Rafe deserves this reprieve from my mom’s matchmaking insanity.” Gigi and I had spoken privately about it, and she’d told me that what I’d witnessed at Charmaine’s birthday party was nothing compared to what she’d watched her brother endure. She’d once been out for coffee with him and he’d received five calls in an hour from women his mom and Pippa had given his number to.

  I nodded at Gigi, giving her a small smile of thanks.

  Then I looked over at Rafe. His smirk was cocky before he left the room with our luggage.

  Was he . . .

  No.

  He couldn’t be.

  Right?

  * * *

  • • •

  Gigi commandeered me as soon as we joined the party, dragging me away from Rafe to ask me advice on how to deal with a friend who’d just lost her job and had started ghosting Gigi. I advised her to go see her friend to make sure she was okay. Sometimes low feelings made us push people away. After that, our conversation moved easily to more friend talk, guy talk, work, tattoos, and more. Before I knew it, so much time had passed, Rafe came to collect me.

  “I need you by my side for this,” he grumbled, pulling me away from his sister.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get caught up.”

  He gave my waist a squeeze. “It’s fine. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I brought a woman home who got on so well with Gigi or any of my family, for that matter.”

  Huh.

  I was not going to overanalyze that.

  Within the next hour of the garden/pool party, Rafe had returned to Mr. Monosyllabic. But only, I realized, around the guests he didn’t know. He kept me close with his arm around my waist as his mom introduced us to new friends and acquaintances and we said hello to old friends. Rafe was visibly more relaxed around the people he knew.

  Something had slowly occurred to me over the last few weeks. We’d moved away from a conversation with a couple Pippa and Hugo had invited. During the exchange, Rafe had tightened his hold on me and barely said a word as the husband droned on about insurance for small businesses like Rafe’s.

  Getting nowhere with him, the man finally gave up and made an excuse for him and his wife to leave.

  As soon as they were gone, Rafe released a sigh as if he was deflating, grabbed my hand, and glowered his way through the guests. He picked up two bottles of beer from the bar and kept walking until the music and murmur of conversation was just a hum in the background. We stopped in the shade of trees in the woodland behind his parents’ property.

  As I took the beer Rafe held out to me, I leaned against the nearest tree. “Is it shyness?”

  Rafe pushed his sunglasses into his hair and frowned at me in question as he took a swig of cold beer.

  “You’re different around people you don’t know.”

  His frown deepened. “I’m not shy. I’m just not comfortable making small talk with strangers. Never have been. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. It’s just the way I am.”

  Something like tenderness filled me. I considered him. “So if you’re uncomfortable talking to strangers, how did you ever get a date?”

  Rafe shrugged. “My lack of loquaciousness never seemed to bother the women I’ve dated.”

  My gaze dragged over him and his masculine beauty. “Of course it didn’t.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I snorted, gesturing to him with my free hand. “Look at you. You don’t look like a vet, Rafe. You look like the model they hire to play the vet for the hot guy career calendar.”

  A tinge of red crested high on his cheeks as his eyes narrowed on me. Then his gaze swept down, lingering on my breasts, before traveling downward and back up again.

  I was being smoldered at by Rafe Whitman and every inch of me loved it.

  He was wearing too many clothes and so was I.

  Shit.

  “Anyway, lack of loquaciousness or not, I’m starting to think I’ve never really had a good radar for picking women who don’t have ulterior motives,” he mused sullenly.

  I studied him in all his brooding. “What does that mean?”

  He shrugged. “Most of my relationships have ended because my girlfriends turned out to be different people from what I’d been led to believe. And the hell of it is, my family always seemed to pick up on it before I did. Maybe that’s why I never caught one of them chatting away with Gigi like they’re long-lost friends.” Rafe’s gaze turned hot and intense again as he stared into my eyes, as if daring me to acknowledge the insinuation that I was a better fit than his previous girlfriends.

  Heart racing, I pushed off the tree, then took a long swig of the beer before I said, “Shouldn’t we get back?”

  “Dying to know which Birkin bag should be in your closet or what the best insurance provider for it is?” Rafe drawled wryly.

  Chuckling, I forced myself to relax. “Hey, these are your people. And they’re not all like that. Most of them talk about their kids, which is nice. I like how much they care about them.”

  Rafe was quiet for a moment before he surprised me. “I know things aren’t great with your parents, but you are in contact, right?”

  I stiffened. “I texted my mom two months ago and she never got back to me. Worried, I tried my dad and he finally texted last week to let me know they were all good. Alive and stuff.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “My mom is too uninvolved and yours is too involved. What a pair we make.”

  But Rafe didn’t want to make light of my parents’ shittiness. Anger and concern lit his eyes. “It’s their loss, Star. It’s their big fucking loss because they’re missing out on someone very special.”

  My breath caught.

  Rafe Whitman had just told me I was very special.

  His expression darkened to something surprising. Arousing. “Star—”

  “We should get back to the party,” I practically squeaked as I pivoted away from him and toward the house. What was going on? Why was he suddenly acting like he wanted me? I couldn’t handle it. “We can’t make your family and friends believe we’re dating if they’re not around to see it.”

  A few seconds later, I heard Rafe’s footsteps behind me, and then he was at my side, his hand on my back. “That’s very true.”

  I waited for more flirt.

  None came.

  Great.

  We were back on the same page. Hopefully.

  So why was my heart racing a mile an hour as Rafe guided me back to the party? We put our empty beer bottles on the bar and grabbed two fresh, cold ones. We nodded at people we’d already said hello to and then stopped to watch Gigi cannonball into the pool with the kids.

  I grinned as she reached the surface, screaming, “I am the awesomest!”

  “I love your sister,” I told him in all honesty.

  Rafe grunted at that.

  “Get in here!” Gigi caught sight of us.

  “I don’t have a suit,” I called back to her.

  “You can have one of mine!”

  Considering I was packing more curves than Gigi, I doubted anything of hers would fit me.

  “C’mon, Star!”

  “No!” Rafe called back.

  Gigi made a face. “Why not?”

  “Because she’s busy.” The bastard made sure of that by pulling me into him with one arm around my waist and bending his head to cover my mouth with his. I gasped at the sudden kiss, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue over mine. Gigi’s whistle was a reminder that we were in public and I had no choice but to lean into him and kiss him right back.

  Absolutely no choice.

  Honestly.

  It had nothing to do with the fact that Rafe Whitman kissed like it was the last kiss he’d ever give.

  Clapping broke through the hazy, lusty spell he’d cast over me, and I was the first to pull away. His arm tightened around me as if he didn’t want me to go, and he glared at my now swollen mouth.

  “Rafe,” I murmured. “We have an audience.”

  He turned his head to look and sure enough, some guests were clapping and hooting at the show we’d put on, while others frowned in disapproval.

  As if remembering himself, Rafe released me. I eased away and he licked his lips, eyes on my mouth. “Just . . . making sure they’re buying it.”

  “Right,” I murmured before taking a long pull of my beer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time night fell and everyone was leaving or making their way to a guest room, the tension between Rafe and me was at breaking point. I constantly had to remind myself what a bad idea it would be to cross the line with him, and he didn’t make it easy. He was casually flirtatious, complimentary, and considerate without even thinking about it.