Read Online Falling For Her Fake Fiancé (The Beaumont Heirs 5) by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah M. Anderson
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But he’d know her in a way that felt too intimate, too personal.
Not that she was a shy, retiring virgin—she wasn’t. But she had to keep her eye on the long game here, which was reestablishing herself and the Beaumont name and inflicting as much collateral damage on the new Brewery owners and operators as possible.
So this was her, inflicting a little collateral damage on Ethan—even if the dull throb that seemed to circle between her legs and up to her nipples felt like a punishment in its own right.
Okay, so it was a lot of collateral damage.
She realized she was holding her breath as she waited. Would he render their deal null and void? She didn’t think so. She might not always be the best judge of men, but she was pretty sure Ethan wasn’t going to claim sex behind tired old lines like “she led me on.” There was something about him that was more honorable than that.
Funny.
She hadn’t thought of him as honorable before this moment.
But he was. He muttered something that sounded like a curse before he stalked out of her line of vision. She heard the bathroom door slam shut and exhaled.
The score was Frances: two and Ethan: one. She was winning.
She shifted on the bed. If only victory wasn’t taking the shape of sexual frustration.
Frances had just stumbled on some sort of sporting event—basketball, maybe?—when Ethan threw the bathroom door open again. He stalked into the room in nothing but his trousers and a plain white T-shirt. He went over to the desk, set against the window, and opened his computer. “How long do you need to be here?” he asked in an almost-mean voice.
“That’s open to discussion.” She looked over at him. He was pointedly glaring at the computer screen. “I obviously didn’t bring a change of clothing.”
That got his attention. “You wouldn’t stay the night, would you?”
Was she wrong, or was there a note of panic in his voice? She pushed herself into a sitting position, tucking her feet under her skirt. “Not yet, I don’t think. But perhaps by next week, yes. For appearances.”
He stared at her for another tight moment and then ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “This seemed like
such
a good idea in my head,” he groaned.
She almost felt bad for him. “We’ll need to have dinner in public again tomorrow night. In fact, at least four or five nights a week for the next two weeks. Then I’ll start sleeping over and—”
“Here?” He made a show of noticing there was only one bed and a pullout couch. “Shouldn’t I come to your place?”
“Um, no.” The very last thing she needed was to parade her fake intended husband through the Beaumont mansion. God only knew what Chadwick would do if he caught wind of this little scheme of hers. “No, we should stick to a more public setting. The hotel suits nicely.”
“Well.” He sagged back in his chair. “That’s the evenings. And during the day?”
She considered. “I’ll come to the office a couple of times a week. We’ll say that we’re discussing the sale of the antiques. On the days I don’t stop by, you should have Delores order flowers for me.”
At that, Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“I like flowers, and you want to look thoughtful and attentive, don’t you?” she snapped. “Fake marriage or not, I expect to be courted.”
“And what do I get out of this again?”
“A wife.” A vein stood out on his forehead, and she swore she could see the pulse in his massive neck even at this distance. “And an art gallery.” She smiled widely.
The look he shot her was hard enough that she shrank back.
“So,” she said, unwilling to let the conversation drift back to sex just quite yet. “Tell me about this successful long-distance relationship that we’re modeling our marriage upon.”
“What?”
“You said at dinner that you’ve seen long-distance relationships work quite well. Personally, I’ve never seen any relationship work well, regardless
Not that she was a shy, retiring virgin—she wasn’t. But she had to keep her eye on the long game here, which was reestablishing herself and the Beaumont name and inflicting as much collateral damage on the new Brewery owners and operators as possible.
So this was her, inflicting a little collateral damage on Ethan—even if the dull throb that seemed to circle between her legs and up to her nipples felt like a punishment in its own right.
Okay, so it was a lot of collateral damage.
She realized she was holding her breath as she waited. Would he render their deal null and void? She didn’t think so. She might not always be the best judge of men, but she was pretty sure Ethan wasn’t going to claim sex behind tired old lines like “she led me on.” There was something about him that was more honorable than that.
Funny.
She hadn’t thought of him as honorable before this moment.
But he was. He muttered something that sounded like a curse before he stalked out of her line of vision. She heard the bathroom door slam shut and exhaled.
The score was Frances: two and Ethan: one. She was winning.
She shifted on the bed. If only victory wasn’t taking the shape of sexual frustration.
Frances had just stumbled on some sort of sporting event—basketball, maybe?—when Ethan threw the bathroom door open again. He stalked into the room in nothing but his trousers and a plain white T-shirt. He went over to the desk, set against the window, and opened his computer. “How long do you need to be here?” he asked in an almost-mean voice.
“That’s open to discussion.” She looked over at him. He was pointedly glaring at the computer screen. “I obviously didn’t bring a change of clothing.”
That got his attention. “You wouldn’t stay the night, would you?”
Was she wrong, or was there a note of panic in his voice? She pushed herself into a sitting position, tucking her feet under her skirt. “Not yet, I don’t think. But perhaps by next week, yes. For appearances.”
He stared at her for another tight moment and then ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “This seemed like
such
a good idea in my head,” he groaned.
She almost felt bad for him. “We’ll need to have dinner in public again tomorrow night. In fact, at least four or five nights a week for the next two weeks. Then I’ll start sleeping over and—”
“Here?” He made a show of noticing there was only one bed and a pullout couch. “Shouldn’t I come to your place?”
“Um, no.” The very last thing she needed was to parade her fake intended husband through the Beaumont mansion. God only knew what Chadwick would do if he caught wind of this little scheme of hers. “No, we should stick to a more public setting. The hotel suits nicely.”
“Well.” He sagged back in his chair. “That’s the evenings. And during the day?”
She considered. “I’ll come to the office a couple of times a week. We’ll say that we’re discussing the sale of the antiques. On the days I don’t stop by, you should have Delores order flowers for me.”
At that, Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“I like flowers, and you want to look thoughtful and attentive, don’t you?” she snapped. “Fake marriage or not, I expect to be courted.”
“And what do I get out of this again?”
“A wife.” A vein stood out on his forehead, and she swore she could see the pulse in his massive neck even at this distance. “And an art gallery.” She smiled widely.
The look he shot her was hard enough that she shrank back.
“So,” she said, unwilling to let the conversation drift back to sex just quite yet. “Tell me about this successful long-distance relationship that we’re modeling our marriage upon.”
“What?”
“You said at dinner that you’ve seen long-distance relationships work quite well. Personally, I’ve never seen any relationship work well, regardless
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