Fill-In Fiancee. Deanna Talcott

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СКАЧАТЬ course, you Americans have a phrase for it—’fast cars, fast women.”’

      “I guarantee this is one woman who is not in the fast lane,” Sunny clarified. “In case you were wondering.”

      An amused smile spread over his face. “I dare say that is probably for the best.”

      A few moments slipped by before she realized he had intentionally hit a hot spot with her. One she’d have to address. “Speaking of parents,” she began hesitantly, “I’d just as soon keep mine out of this.”

      “Oh?”

      “Well, we might run into them, being in the same complex and all, and I’d just as soon not have that happen. I certainly don’t want them to know I’m posing as your girlfriend.”

      “Fiancée,” he corrected.

      “Whatever.” She waved her hand. “It’s enough for them to think I’m staying with a friend for a couple of weeks.”

      “Okay. That’s fine with me. If that’s the way you want it.”

      “I do.”

      A moment later, Brett pulled off onto the side street adjacent to the apartments. Then, offering her a lopsided grin, he wheeled into the drive. Sunny clutched the armrest and pressed her shoulder blades into the bucket seat. She still slid into him.

      “Don’t you just love the way a sports car takes the curves and hugs the road?” he asked drolly, letting the steering wheel spin back within his hands.

      “Hugs?” she repeated, pulling herself upright. “I thought I was going to be in your lap.”

      He passed the pool and clubhouse, and pulled up at the first intersection. She straightened her skirt again and unconsciously motioned for him to make a right, toward her apartment building.

      “Of course, when we drive together you will need to hug me instead of the door,” he said.

      “I wasn’t hugging the door,” she argued. But the truth was she had intended to leave as much space between them as possible. “And you can stop right here.”

      Brett pulled into the first available parking space and threw the car into Park. He stripped his sunglasses off and tossed them on the dash. “Back to my parents again, okay? They’ll expect us to be lovey-dovey, you know. And they’ll like your proper edge, as it will make the story all the more believable. But…”

      “Yes?”

      “How about a kiss?” he suggested boldly, his gaze dropping possessively to her mouth. “For you may find that you can’t tolerate me. And that would be a pity, to put on a show for my mother and father, when you find me insufferable.”

      “I— I never said you were insufferable.”

      “Really?”

      His gaze trailed over her curiously. He turned on the seat, leaning closer to her, then waited, giving her the opportunity to withdraw, to protest.

      But she didn’t—and for the life of her she didn’t know why.

      “Or we could say,” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheeks, “that we’ll share a kiss to seal the secret about who I really am.”

      “I won’t tell,” she promised, feeling dizzy as he loomed closer.

      “Mmm. Good…” His mouth first nuzzled hers. His lips, so soft and warm and tasting of tea and lemon, almost surprised her. The tip of his nose brushed against hers, and raspy stubble scraped her cheek. He smelled seductively fresh, like salt and sea air.

      When Sunny involuntarily kissed him back—her mind in a muddle, her senses on overload—Brett deepened the kiss, sending earth-shattering sensations through her. Her respiration grew shallow and her heart started to pound. And behind her eyelids she saw a panorama of stars. Shooting stars. Spinning stars. Dazzling waves of stars.

      Sunny’s hand went to his shoulder to steady herself, her fingers curving over the thick muscle there. His shoulders were so wide they seemed to envelop her, in a protective, supportive kind of way. Her fingertips inched upward, over the seam of his dress shirt. She discovered the warmth of his flesh above his starched collar and beneath his ear. The tip of her fingernail traced the neat edge of his haircut, the tiny hairs teasing the pad of her forefinger.

      Brett flexed his shoulders, and groaned. He pulled reluctantly away, even as his mouth continued to taste hers.

      Finally he broke the kiss and tipped his forehead against hers. “I do think we’ll get on,” he predicted softly. “My family should be suitably convinced that our affections are genuine. And if I didn’t know better, I’d be nearly convinced of it myself.”

      Chapter Three

      By the time she’d run up the two flights of steps to her apartment, Sunny was gasping—and it wasn’t due to the exercise. No, the reason her head was spinning and her lungs had turned six shades of breathless blue, was because of Brett Hamilton.

      He had kissed her until she ached—and she’d kissed him right back. She’d never realized a man could taste so good.

      She’d never imagined she could lose herself like that. Not her. Not Sunny Robbins. She’d steeled herself to take cold, analytical views of everything life presented. That’s why she worked so hard in her job as a paralegal. She could see both sides of a story, weigh issues and make rational decisions.

      Never in her wildest dreams had she thought a man like Brett Hamilton could make her feel so light-headed and giddy.

      The lyrics to a song popped into her head, and she shivered. “With just one kiss…”

      Well, shiver me timbers, she thought insanely, some English bloke, with a title and a reputation, plants a kiss on me in the middle of the apartment parking lot, and I fall apart like a sinking ship.

      She would put a stop to it. She swore she would. For a moment, standing there on the commercial carpet outside the door to her apartment, Sunny thought about who and what she was.

      Because she liked a roof over her head, and benefits that included medical and dental, she held a nine-to-five job in the corporate world. She ate commercially prepared meals in throwaway boxes because it was efficient and convenient. She voted a straight Republican ticket, read the New York Times, paid her taxes when they were due, and balanced her checkbook every week. She’d never been hauled off to jail during a sit-in, a sit-down, a rally, protest or demonstration. She didn’t have a screaming room, and she didn’t paint abstract canvases of her inner self. She hadn’t dated anyone in two years and had only explored one sexual experience. Love-ins were way out of her league.

      It went without saying her parents thought they had failed. On every count.

      Then Brett Hamilton came along, proposed an absurd charade, kissed her and swept her off her feet.

      She looked down at her toes. Okay. She was still standing. Barely.

      Sunny pivoted on her heels and sank back against the wall, taking a cleansing breath. She would drive СКАЧАТЬ