Pretending He's Mine Read online

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “What’s the job you’re trying to get?”

  “It’s for the film Escorted Lives,” she said. Then she watched and waited as Reeve’s delicious brown eyes lit up. His lips curved into a grin. His face said everything. Every actor wanted it on this movie.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Escorted Lives was one of the bestselling books in the last few years. It started as a self-published novel and shot up the charts with its red-hot story of a woman who runs an escort service, but also has her own particular sexual peccadilloes. After one too many cheating episodes by her husband, she turns to voyeurism for her kicks and gets off watching her stable of hot young men handle the ladies they’re paired with. It had been jokingly referred to as the novel the world beat off to. Every actor wanted a role in the flick; it was bound to be huge, no pun intended.

  Funny that just last night, he’d told Jill he had no interest in being an escort for Upper East Side ladies. And here he was being offered something of a man-for-hire gig.

  “I’m prepared to pay you $5000,” Sutton said, and the thought of the money made his heart beat faster. But then he flashed back to his parents, to his dad who’d been a cop his whole life. To his mom, who taught high school English. His parents had a hard enough time accepting that he wanted to be an actor and make a go of it in New York City. But to take money for a fake boyfriend job? Fine, Sutton wasn’t asking him to put out, and even if she had, he honestly wouldn’t have minded. But there was something he wanted more.

  “I want something besides money. I want an audition for the producers and for the director. I want a chance to get the lead role.”

  He watched as she took a deep breath and considered his request. It was unconventional to bypass the casting director, but then, this deal was unconventional. Besides, it wasn’t every day that he landed an opportunity like this. He’d be paid in the currency he coveted most—the chance for a role in a feature film. Reeve would have liked the money, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. Besides, he planned to do everything differently from the Joss Whedon audition. He’d be natural and he’d be authentic when he tried out for Escorted Lives.

  She nodded. “Reeve, I’ll get you an audition for them,” she said and flashed a smile, then winked. “How strange would it be if my fiancé—such a fine specimen at that—didn’t get an audition, right? But if for some reason I don’t nab the job, I will insist on paying you.”

  “Fine. But you will get the job. And I will nail the audition, I promise. I won’t disappoint you. Not as an actor, and not as your fake fiancé,” he said confidently. “So we don’t really need to worry about money. We’re both going to get something we want out of this. I will be your perfect pretend boyfriend.”

  She smiled. “I knew you were the right man for the job. We have dinner at their penthouse Friday night.”

  Reeve didn’t mind pretending to be seeing Sutton. He’d be lying if he’d said he didn’t want to unbutton a few more buttons on her shirt, and get a glimpse of those round, full breasts. He could see a bit of cleavage exposed and it made him harder. Add in that hand on his thigh, and he was going to have to picture the entire Knicks basketball team before he could stand up. But that was all there was to this—she was hot, and that made this acting job a hell of a lot more fun.

  She held out a hand for shaking. But before he could respond, she said, “That’s quite daft of me. If we’re going to pretend to be involved, we wouldn’t just shake hands. I’d give you a long, lingering embrace.”

  She reached for him and began to wrap her arms around him in their first official act of pretend touching.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Brenner,” a voice said, booming through the speaker phone on Sutton’s desk. There’s a Janelle Pinkerton here to see you.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Sutton snapped back and her eyes went wide. “Bloody hell,” she muttered and pressed a hand against her suddenly racing heart. Wasn’t Janelle supposed to messenger the tickets over? Sutton felt as if Janelle were checking up on her, like a school marm inspecting her cursive handwriting. Then she took a breath, reminding herself that she was one step ahead of Janelle. Her pretend boyfriend—her meal ticket, so to speak—was right here next to her.

  Sutton brushed a hand against her skirt and rose, walking over to the phone. “Go ahead and send her in please.” Then to Reeve, “She’s on the producing team. So, time to improvise.”

  Reeve gave her a thumbs up. Moments later, Janelle walked into the office, a thin-lipped smile on her face.

  “Hello, Ms. Brenner.”

  “So good to see you again, Mrs. Pinkerton.”

  Janelle cast a glance at Reeve on the couch, then raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

  “Actually, the timing is perfect. This is my fiancé,” Sutton began, but then the awkward word seemed to stick in her throat. Janelle caught on, because she narrowed her eyes in a way that made Sutton nervous. Reeve stood up, took Janelle’s hand and planted a kiss near her wrist.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you,” Reeve said to Janelle.

  “And you as well. I had no idea I’d be lucky and meet you so early.”

  “I can’t wait for Friday night,” Reeve said. “Can I bring anything? I’m not a very good cook, but I will tell you this—I can bake the best the chocolate chip cookies in the world.” Then he flashed a smile at Janelle, and Sutton marveled at the ease with which he slid right into his role as fictional fiancé.

  “Oh, I do love a good chocolate chip cookie,” Janelle said, and Sutton was sure it was the first time she’d seen the woman smile. Then Janelle dipped her hand into her purse and proffered two tickets. “For the play tomorrow.”

  Sutton took the tickets. “Thank you,” she said, but the words still came out strange and awkward-sounding. Sutton was having a harder time pulling this off than she thought. She cleared her throat and tried to come up with something else to say.

  Reeve seemed to notice her discomfort, because he jumped into the conversation.

  “Sut and I are totally psyched to see this play. I was telling her how much I wanted to when we were walking The Artful Dodger the other day. And now, look at this. You give us tickets. It’s like serendipity,” he said.

  Sutton longed to breathe a deep sigh of relief. He’d not only come up with a little nickname for her, he was already speaking as if he knew her daily routine. In fact, the words felt so true, and he said them with such honesty that Sutton found herself rewinding the day, reflecting on the dog walk with Reeve that never happened.

  “By the way, I’m Reeve Larkin. Love your movies. All of them,” he said, and Janelle nodded once in thanks to his acknowledgement of her behind-the-scenes efforts.

  “Well, I better be on my way. What are you two up to the rest of the day?” Janelle asked, then lowered her voice in a whisper. “A little session on the casting couch?”

  She winked and Sutton was shocked. Janelle had seemed so conservative in the meeting earlier today, and now here she was making little innuendoes. Reeve took the bait and moved over to Sutton, draping an arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Her skin tingled when he touched her, and to her surprise she shivered as he ran his thumb against the fabric of her shirt.

  “What can I say?” Reeve said with a sheepish shrug. “Sometimes I just need to stop by and visit my woman in the middle of the day.”

  Janelle nodded as if she understood exactly what Reeve meant. Sutton wasn’t even sure what Reeve meant, and she suddenly felt unmoored, as if Reeve and Janelle were in on something, and she—the one who’d engineered this fake engagement—were the clueless one.

  “Enjoy the show,” Janelle said and walked down the hallway. Janelle glanced back once and as soon as she did, Reeve moved in for a kiss. He pressed his lips lightly against Sutton’s, and she was so surprised by the unexpected kiss that she jumped.

  “Oh.”

  Sutton looked down the hall, and Janelle was gone. Thank G
od she hadn’t seen Sutton react so weirdly to a kiss.

  “You okay?” Reeve asked.

  “Absolutely. Just surprised is all.”

  “Well, if we’re going to pull this off, you might want to get used to me kissing you.”

  “Right. Absolutely. I should definitely get used to that,” she said, but what she really needed to do was get her groove back. She was a take-charge kind of woman and needed to start steering this ship properly. If that meant getting used to kisses, so be it. If that meant reviewing the basics of their relationship so she could say the word fiancé without choking on it, then she’d do that too.

  She placed a hand on a hip and appraised Reeve from top to bottom. “We should review our backstory. And I think we’re going to need a better outfit for you to go the theater. We do have box seats.”

  “What? You don’t think I have nice clothes for the theater? I’ve been to the theater. I’ve auditioned for plenty of shows. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.”

  “I know,” she said in a decisive tone as she ran her index finger up his pecs, her way of taking back the reins. Then she lowered her voice to a faux whisper even though it was just the two of them in the hallway. “But you’re mine now for a week and I want to play dress up.” She looked at her watch. “I have to make some calls on this TV guest doctor role I’m casting tomorrow for Overnight Shift,” she said, referring to the popular medical drama. She’d written down her list of ten potentials this morning on the cab ride over to her office. She didn’t even have to look them up on her computer; she simply knew who the ten best prospects were by tapping into her mental rolodex. She never forgot a pretty face or a talent to behold. “Can you wait for me in the lobby and I’ll be free in fifteen minutes to go to Elizabeth’s and get you a new shirt and pants?”

  He nodded, and she returned to her office and shut the door. She sank down into her chair and scrolled through her files to find the numbers of the agents she had to call. Not only did she need to get matters quickly squared away for the role of the plastic surgeon who saves the day, she needed to get her mind off the way her body felt when Reeve had touched her.

  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.