Fake Engagement, Real Temptation (Passion and Protection) Page 2

  Lane nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. But she can’t go there alone.”

  Now it was Blake’s turn to give the duh, moron face. “I know. That’s why you’re going with her. Keep an eye on her. Everyone wins.”

  Lane dropped his head and wiped his brow. “I would. But I have a huge deal I’m closing this week. I have to be here.” He sighed hard. “But Carrie can’t be alone right now. That asshole wrecked her world.” He glanced at the ceiling. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll find a way to go and keep an eye on her.”

  “No.” Blake sighed now. “I’ll go. You take care of the deal.”

  Lane raised an eyebrow. “You’ll go? I don’t know. How’s Carrie going to feel about that?”

  “She won’t even know I’m there. I do this kind of thing all the time.”

  Which was true. He set up the adventures for his clients and then became invisible. Unless something went wrong.

  Lane said, “I know you’ve got your own business to handle, though. You can swing it?”

  Blake laughed and nodded. He was his own boss and didn’t have another client scheduled for two weeks. Fall was his busiest time, but winters were slow. And Carrie had opted for a December wedding. Nothing about this whole thing felt right.

  Why the hell did she choose December in Colorado to get married?

  “Yeah.” He clapped his buddy’s back. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

  “Thank you,” Lane said.

  Now Blake just had to prepare himself to face Carrie with the fact that he’d be her spotter.

  “Do whatever it takes,” Lane said. “No matter what, you stay by her side. The last thing she needs is to be alone out of the state. Just keep her safe. And don’t you dare leave her once you get to her.”

  Blake nodded. He cared about Carrie, had always had a protective instinct toward her. He hadn’t talked to her since the year before she’d gotten engaged, back when she’d been finishing her master’s degree and had first begun dating her scumbag ex-fiancé. She’d looked lovely. More than lovely, in a cute sweater and glasses. Of course he wouldn’t leave her.

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Blake said to Lane, and he headed out of the church, his newest guide mission set.

  But when he returned to Carrie’s suite, she didn’t answer the door. The cleaning woman did. He frowned and peeked around the obviously confused housekeeper.

  “I was looking for the woman who was just here. Carrie Morgan?”

  The housekeeper shook her head. “She checked out a half hour ago. I have to get this cleaned by tonight for the next guest.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Checked out?”

  He peeked in the room again. All signs of her were gone.

  She wouldn’t…

  He bolted down the hall and out into the parking lot. He sped over to Carrie’s place and…

  She wasn’t there, either. No sign of her.

  Yeah. She wouldn’t? She had. He could only hope he got to the airport before her plane took off.

  Chapter Two

  The heavy, oversized suitcase Carrie was dragging through the airport kept snagging on the bottom of her dress, and the rip sound was getting louder. Or maybe that was the ringing in her ears still blaring strong from her aunt screeching when she’d found out Carrie had been stranded in the bridal suite earlier with no groom.

  “Come on, you stupid”—rip—“piece of”—riiiippppp—“crap!” She cursed and kicked her bag, which should be rolling, but one of the wheels had busted somewhere between hauling ass out of that suite and the cab dropping her off at departures ten minutes ago.

  She hadn’t bothered to change into anything beyond her “honeymoon” dress. Who cared? This was her honeymoon, and by God, she was going to wear this dress.

  She would have her fantasy. Or at least try to. In between wiping away angry tears.

  She finally made her way to the endless line at the ticketing counter and rifled through her purse.

  Two tickets.

  Two honeymoon tickets to Hawaii.

  She and Kevin were supposed to leave tonight after the reception, but that wasn’t going to happen anymore. And it was the only escape Carrie could get. Funny that the idea had come from her older brother’s best friend, who’d barely ever shown her any attention except to tease her.

  She just had to book it before her brother actually tried to tag along. He was relentless in his protectiveness. Christ, the only person who could potentially smother her even more than Lane was Blake. Imagine if it had been him coming along with her.

  She had already taken time off from work. However, she worked at the gallery that sold her ex-fiancé’s artwork, so “time off” was a term she’d have to redefine now that Kevin had stood her up.

  But she had the tickets to Hawaii. She might not have a job to go back to, but the prepaid, all-inclusive island trip was a consolation prize after the most humiliating afternoon of her life. She might as well go. It was better than staying in town while the nonstop casserole train came around her place with pity pies.

  Not that she could be surprised. She should have known this was a bad idea. Between Kevin always needing “his space” and Carrie being little more than inconvenient over this past year, she’d told herself that the 371 days of celibacy was due to planning a wedding and stress. But it turned out Kevin had been with someone else the whole time.

  A mistress for a year, and she’d had no idea.

  The only thing she was thankful for was that she had already felt disconnected from Kevin. Yes, he’d hurt her. Badly. But she was trying to focus on getting away so she could clear her heart. All the warning signs had been there. The lack of intimacy and lack of…well…everything she’d always thought a relationship should be.

  But Kevin had made her feel lucky to be with him. From day one meeting him, his messy hair, creative style, and carefree artsy vibe, she’d never felt good enough for such a colorful man. Granted, that “carefree artsy vibe” had turned out to be more “stoner,” but whatever. He was the artist. The creative one. And Carrie was his peddler. That was it. Never mattered that she wanted more. More for her job, her own sense of beauty in art. More for her life. Like love and marriage and babies. Carrie wanted the kids, the carpool, and to come home to a happy husband who loved her.

  And today, she had thought she’d finally get it.

  Nope.

  Instead of happily ever after, she was standing in public, looking like a freak that escaped an episode of Bridezilla, and feeling lonelier than she ever had before. Because even though Kevin had never made her feel whole, exactly, she’d had hope that she was at least getting closer to her dreams. Getting closer to love.

  Welcome to reality. We hope you like your stay.

  No. Screw that. For the next week, she would live in a fantasy. Her fantasy.

  She pulled her suitcase to keep pace with the slow-moving line, and the broken wheel whined and skidded.

  “Whatever,” she mumbled to herself, glancing down at her dress. It was a gorgeous dress. Strapless, fitted up top, and with just the right amount of poof at the bottom. She’d read that a “honeymoon dress” was just the way to start your marriage off right. And she told herself that was why everyone was staring at her. Because the dress was beautiful. Not because it was weird for a dumped turned runaway bride to be standing in line alone at an airport. Because the dress was part of the fantasy, and by God, she’d have her fantasy, if only for the week.

  She was already counting how many little bottles of vodka she could have on the plane, and she anticipated being heavily drunk by the time she crossed the Pacific time zone. She needed this week in Hawaii to forget. To start over. To feel alive again. And damn it, that’s what she would do.

  She would find her strength. Forget Kevin. And maybe even go on a manhunt to get the one thing she’d been craving—connection.

  An orgasm by someone other than her battery-operated boyfriend wouldn’t hurt, either.

  Gripping her suitca
se with two hands, she continued to slowly make her way to the baggage check-in counter. Once she dropped off this heavy thing full of little swimsuits she’d spent eight months in the gym to get ready to wear, there’d be no turning back.

  …

  Blake ran through the entrance of Denver International and looked around. The long, open hall of airline check-ins was endless, but far off in the distance, a bright pink bag stood out, and next to it, a woman wearing what looked to be some kind of fuzzy pink apparatus.

  Carrie.

  He hustled in her direction, and it wasn’t until he got closer that he saw the massive pink suitcase she was fighting with was broken, and the fuzz in question was coming from her—as in, the bottom piece of her dress—and she was next in line to drop off her bag.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, walking up to her. She looked up from the fight with her bag, blew a lock of hair out of her face, and scowled.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked. There was that sass. He’d take attitude over her tears any day.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he said.

  She pointed at her suitcase. “Well, you’re the genius with the idea to go on my honeymoon alone, and since my arms get tired when I flap them longer than ten minutes, I have to take an airplane to Hawaii.”

  He raised a brow, his blood igniting in that way that only Carrie could make it. That snarky tone made him want to spar with her. But he knew her well enough to know she was still hiding pain beneath the brazen attitude.

  “I’m glad to see you found your sassy pants,” he said. “Maybe they’ll keep you warm under that dress.”

  She rolled her eyes and Blake continued. “I’m glad you’re going, and I’m glad you’re having your adventure. But I was serious about needing a—”

  “Spotter?” she cut in, using his term from earlier.

  “Yes. Carrie, you going alone isn’t an option.”

  “Well I’m a grownup, and I’m not taking my brother. That’s weird and, oh right, I’m. A. Grownup!” she said slowly, like he was an idiot.

  “Lane can’t make it,” he said frankly, and watched her eyes go wide, the truth hitting her.

  “Lane sent you,” she said with venom in her voice. “How did he even know I was here?”

  “He didn’t; I did,” Blake corrected quickly. “After our talk and realizing you wouldn’t wait, I tracked you down here.”

  “Oh right, the infamous tracker,” she said, and Blake wished she sounded more impressed. Not sure why that mattered. Maybe he could contemplate that if he wasn’t so busy staring down the plump tan skin currently heaving out the top of her dress.

  My God, she looked incredible.

  But Carrie was clearly in a mood, and he couldn’t blame her. Last thing he should be doing was checking her out. Which he wasn’t. Because not only had she just been left at the altar, but also she was his best friend’s little sister. No way in hell was he thinking of her in any other way than a lady to be protected.

  Truth be told, he thought she’d be a crying mess of sad clown makeup, but instead, she was huffing from lugging around the suitcase, making the tight, low cut of her dress dip even more, giving him yet another prime view of the most perfect cleavage he’d ever seen.

  Kevin was an idiot to not show up for a woman like her.

  Stop thinking that way. She’s your buddy’s sister.

  “Well you found me,” she said, exasperated. “So you can report back that I’m fine. Bye.”

  “Sorry, little girl, can’t do that.”

  She stood tall and put her hands on her hips. Amazing, curving hips that the dress hugged as perfectly as it did the rest of her, all the way down to her cute pink toes peeking through strappy sandals.

  “First of all, I’m not a little girl,” she said.

  Oh, he could see that. But that’s what he’d always called her, and even though Carrie Morgan was all woman now, he couldn’t shake the habit. Besides, she was his responsibility, so until that mission was fulfilled, he’d say whatever he needed to get her to a safe place. Mentally and physically. He also couldn’t leave her. This was his idea, and even though it was kind of biting him in the ass at the moment, he wouldn’t let Lane down. He’d go with her, whether she liked it or not, and keep her safe.

  “I can’t leave you; I need to make sure you stay safe.” Leaving out the part of the pact he’d made with Lane. The man would have made him take a blood oath if there’d been time.

  Carrie just laughed in his face, making her long beautiful hair dance a little, and she tucked a golden lock behind her ear.

  “It’s not up to you to do anything,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m leaving here, and I’ll be back in a week. Thanks for the advice about going after my fantasy. But my brother’s buddy turned pseudo bodyguard is not part of my image of an island fantasy.”

  Blake sighed, thinking of Lane and Mr. Morgan and Grammy. But especially Lane and the last thing he’d said to Blake. Don’t leave her.

  Lane was right. Carrie might look more pissed than upset now, but a week alone in God knew where would not be good for her. He couldn’t leave her. This was his bright idea in the first place, and now he had to make sure she wasn’t alone while this good intention started blowing up in his face. He had a responsibility to her, and for Christ’s sake, she needed to stop breathing so hard, because with her wild blond hair and heavy breasts, he was getting hard just looking at her.

  Fuck, this was all sorts of a bad idea.

  Maybe he needed to change tactics. Maybe he should try to convince her to go home? If she really hated the idea of him going with her, then maybe she’d rather just go back to her house.

  “I can’t leave you,” he said again. “Let me take you home. Your dad and brother—”

  “Absolutely not!” she cut in. “I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want. I’m not going home to listen to my mother ask me why I can’t ‘keep a man,’ or my dad go over his checkbook on all the money he just wasted, or Lane fuss over me, waiting for me to cry.”

  She cleared her throat. Blake honestly had no idea what to think. She was strong, he knew that, but the adrenaline of today would eventually crash, and she’d be hurt. Was hurting. Just trying to escape it. He couldn’t blame her.

  Still…

  “You either let me take you home, or get used to me being your new shadow. Either way, I can’t let you go anywhere alone, Carrie.”

  With a huff, she reached into her purse and slapped a plane ticket at his chest. “Then it looks like you’re coming with me.”

  With that, she turned to check her bag.

  Chapter Three

  “I’m getting on the plane now,” Carrie said into her cell phone, walking down the air bridge toward the plane.

  “Are you okay?” her best friend, Annie, said from the phone.

  Carrie shook her head. Was she okay? She glanced back and saw Blake right behind her. Her shadow, just like he’d promised.

  “I have no idea,” Carrie said honestly. “I know what I wanted, and I thought this week would be different.”

  “I know,” Annie said. “But you’re strong. And I think it’s great you’re going on your honeymoon anyway. You need a vacation.”

  “I’m going on my honeymoon with my brother’s friend, like I’m some infant and can’t take care of myself.”

  “Then don’t think of it that way,” Annie said. “Think of it as an opportunity. Everything you ever wanted is possible this one week.”

  Not really, Carrie thought. She wanted a family. Marriage, kids, the whole thing. Maybe that’s why she’d hung in with Kevin even though she’d known it wasn’t right for a long time. As if the universe was listening and decided Carrie needed a physical reminder of what she wanted and the dashed hopes that went out the door, literally, with Kevin, a toddler ran down the air bridge and smashed her miniature Dora the Explorer wheelie suitcase into Carrie’s leg.

  Carrie winced at the little scratch of pain the suitcas
e left, and the little girl was giggling, pigtails bouncing, clearly so excited to get on the plane.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Lidia! Stop!” the frantic mother was calling after her, weaving around the line of people to get to her daughter. It looked like chaos, but Carrie’s heart melted a little with envy and sadness.

  The little girl looked just like her mother. And the mother looked tired but happy. Even chasing after her daughter, she was smiling, and there was a tone of laughter in her words every time the little girl slowed her pace to turn back and beam at her mother. A family trip to Hawaii.

  The kind of thing she’d dreamed of. The kind of thing she’d never have now.

  “Don’t think of it as a honeymoon,” Annie continued, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You said you’re taking this trip for you and to live out the fantasy in your mind. So it’s your fantasymoon.”

  Carrie laughed a little. Annie had been her best friend since birth, and she always had a way of making the world around her look rosier. Maybe if Carrie couldn’t have the long-term things she’d always wanted, she could have this week to try to have every fantasy she could. Why not, right? Wasn’t like she had much left to lose.

  “You’re a free woman,” Annie said. “And, sweetie, I hate to say it, but you were in a celibate relationship with a man who didn’t appreciate you. You should do whatever you want to feel good again. Start fresh, starting now.”

  “I like that idea,” Carrie said, just as she reached the open door of the plane, trying not to once again count the months and months that she and Kevin had drifted apart this past year, in every way. “I’m boarding, so I’ll call you when I land.”

  “Okay, try to have fun. And remember: it’s time for you to go after what you want. This week is all yours,” Annie said, and Carrie could feel her friend hug her through the phone.

  “Thank you,” she said, and hung up.

  “Welcome aboard,” the stewardess greeted Carrie as she stepped on the plane. Her foot slipped just a tad—and strong hands steadied her from behind. Blake.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and his blue eyes hit hers while the heat of his strong palms melted her arms. Carrie righted her footing, but she didn’t get far because a family of four was blocking the aisle. The dad put a suitcase in the overhead bin while the mom cooed to her baby in the seat and a little girl played with a Barbie next to her.