His mouth was hot and firm and perfect.

Jax kissed me with intensity and need, my body trapped between his and the wall. And I had absolutely no complaints. Because Jax was an incredible kisser. His hands were flat against the wall, his hips pressing into me as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a sensual sweep.

I couldn’t help it, I moaned against his mouth, everything almost overloading my senses. I felt Jax smile against my mouth, and the kiss went crazy. He slid his hands through my hair, angling my head so he could kiss me deeper. I loved it. I loved it all. I fisted my hands in his shirt and kissed him back, the tequila making me feel warm and loose and sexy and powerful. He tasted like salt and lime, and something dangerous.

Pure Jax.

We were in our own little world, and my head was spinning. Somewhere, a part of me was freaking out over the fact I was making out with Jax Hawthorne, but that part was muffled by how much my body wanted him, and just how good he felt.

A door slammed nearby. And just like that, reality broke through.

What was I doing?

I pushed Jax away.

“We can’t,” I told him, both of us breathing heavily.

His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes glazed, and his mouth continued to look unbearably kissable. I could only imagine how I looked. My lips felt swollen, and I had no doubt that my hair was a mess from the way he had been running his fingers through it.

Jax’s gaze darted downward, desire and intensity written all over his face. I looked at myself and remembered that I had practically undressed in the pub—my dress was still unbuttoned to past my neckline. Face red, I grabbed the sides of my dress and pulled them together, trying to button it up at the same time.

“This was a mistake,” I told him.

“It was?” he asked with a grin. “It didn’t feel like that to me.”

“Boundaries.” I gulped for air. “Remember? We set boundaries.”

But he didn’t have a chance to respond because Mikey—the actor playing Bingley—came stumbling into the hallway, looping his arm around Jax’s neck. He looked as if he was too drunk to even notice what he had interrupted.

“This place is wicked awesome,” he slurred, his accent going full Boston before veering into a less polished version of what he was using on camera. “Come on, mate, let’s get pissed.”

Jax shot me a look, but then Mickey made a groaning sound and started to retch.

“He’s going to be sick!” I exclaimed, and Jax sighed.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he said, warning me, before he slung an arm around Mickey and helped him out the side door—just before a lovely range of vomit noises echoed into the night.

I sank back against the wall, my heart racing.

Was that a promise or a threat?

I headed back to the hotel alone and locked my door behind me. I didn’t want to talk about the kiss. I didn’t want to think about the kiss. Unfortunately, that was all I could think about, and after a night full of very, very sexy dreams, I woke up and immediately took a cold shower.

By the time I was done trying to dispel my sexual demons, Jax had already left for set. He left a note saying that I should join him whenever I wanted, but there was no mention of the kiss.

I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. What was wrong with me? Getting involved with Jax—actually getting involved with him—was a bad idea. It was too dangerous.

So why did I keep fantasizing about his mouth on mine? His hands on my body? My hands on his body?

Ugh.

I was clearly sexually frustrated, and my body didn’t know what was good for it—namely, staying far away from the dangerous combination of Jax and tequila.

And Jax’s wicked mouth . . .

I checked my email to distract myself, and luckily, I found that Emmy had sent me her business plan for her fashion line, so I settled into work, determined to banish all those sexy fantasies from my mind.

I had been working on Emmy’s plan for an hour or so when my phone rang. It was Paige.

“How’s jolly old England?” she demanded happily. “Have you had fish and chips yet? Or steak and kidney pie? I miss it there!”

“You just miss the food,” I said, trying to be careful with my tone.

Unfortunately my sister knew me way too well.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Is everything ok?”

“Everything is fine,” I reassured her. “It’s just . . . a little intense sometimes, that’s all. I’m not used to being around movie stars, or being on a movie set, or—”

“Or falling for the leading actor,” Paige finished for me.

“It’s not like that,” I insisted.

“No?” She didn’t sound like she believed me at all.

“OK, I might be attracted to Jax,” I confessed. “But nothing is going to happen.”

Nothing else was going to happen, I said to myself.

“That’s probably for the best,” Paige surprised me.

Every time I expected her to tell me to throw caution to the wind—which had been her MO ever since we were kids—she said the exact opposite. Which meant that she really thought this whole thing between Jax and me was a mistake. “Way to be supportive,” I griped.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Paige said.

“I’m fine,” I reassured her. “I know what I’m doing.”

It was a total lie, of course, but saying that out loud at least made me feel like I had some control over what was happening. “Now, enough about me, what have you and Dash been doing?”

“Well,” Paige began, “I have an interview next week as a junior producer on this new documentary . . .”

We talked for a while longer, until I decided it was time to stop avoiding Jax and head over to the set. At least it wouldn’t be like last night with tequila and dark corners and pool tables. He was working, which meant he’d be focused on that, and wouldn’t have time to flirt with me or talk about the kiss last night. Maybe we could both just pretend that it never happened.

I found him in the costume truck, looking devastatingly handsome in full Mr. Darcy attire. The cravat, the waistcoat, the jacket, and the trousers—especially the trousers—were making it very difficult for my body to remember exactly why I had pushed him away in the hallway last night, when I could have just dragged him back to our suite and had my very naughty way with him.

“Penny!” Jax’s greeting interrupted my dirty thoughts—namely the ones where I was on my knees about to unbutton those perfectly fitted trousers. “Just who I was hoping to see.”

I had a feeling my face was already bright red, but the sweet compliment only added to my blush. Jax always sounded so happy to see me, as if he was constantly waiting for me to show up. I knew that couldn’t be the case—he was an actor after all—but it was hard not to feel special when you were greeted the way he always seemed to greet me.

Even the wardrobe mistress seemed to swoon a little.

“So.” He held out his arms and turned. “What do you think?”

Immediately my thoughts went back to me on my knees in front of him.

“It’s good,” I stammered, trying to keep my dirty thoughts at bay. “You look good. Really good.”

“It’s for the ball,” he explained, apparently oblivious to my internal dilemma.

“Uh huh,” I managed, easily able to picture him broody and perfect, dancing with Elizabeth Bennet.

“Actually . . .” He picked up a script from the table. “Your timing is perfect. Do you think you could help me run lines for my scene this afternoon?”

“Um, sure,” I said.

He quickly changed out of the costume and handed it back to the wardrobe mistress who handled it with the care and reverence it deserved.

“I’ll make the adjustments,” she said, hanging it up and beginning to mark it carefully with chalk.

“Cheers,” he said, looking just as handsome and devastating in a pair of jeans and a very well-worn T-shirt. “I’ll see you after the break.”

With a gentle hand on my back, he led me out of the wardrobe trailer.

“Do you need help with your lines?” I asked, thumbing through the pages of the script, trying to ignore the feel of his hand on my back. My sundress was barely a barrier between his skin and mine. I felt all tingly and hot. “Which scene?” I asked, trying to be professional.

“It starts on page 121,” he told me, directing me to a spot over by a little running brook, beneath some trees.

It was a beautiful location, and I could have lay down in the grass and taken a blissfully peaceful nap. Instead, I sat, my dress tucked beneath me as Jax stood nearby.

I flipped quickly to the page. My eyes widened. Oh no. This scene. The scene.

Jax knelt down next to me.

“ ‘In vain have I struggled,’ ” he said, taking my hand, his eyes intense and focused. “ ‘It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ ”

My breath stopped. The whole world seemed to stop. I knew it was pretend, I knew he was reading lines, but everything inside of me wanted to leap into his arms and kiss him.

Jax cleared his throat and made a small gesture down at the page. Then I noticed a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. That jerk. He was doing this on purpose. He was messing with my head because of last night.

I took a deep breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. After all, while this was the scene where Darcy brooded and smoldered, this was also the scene where Elizabeth Bennet told him in no uncertain terms that she was not here for his bullshit.

“ ‘I have never desired your good opinion,’ ” I said, lifting my chin. “ ‘And you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.’ ”

Jax gave me a look that was so quintessential Darcy—the surprise, the hurt—that I once again forgot that this was all pretend.

“ ‘And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting!’ ” he said, standing. “ ‘I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected.’ ”

“ ‘I might as well inquire,’ ” I read. “ ‘Why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?’ ”

The script went on, the two of us bantering back and forth about Jane, about Wickham, until we came to Elizabeth’s most cutting line. I put everything I had into it, wanting to match Jax, who had completely transformed into Darcy before my very eyes.

“ ‘From the very beginning,’ ” I read with passion. “ ‘From the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.’ ”

Jax held up his hand, his eyes sad. “ ‘You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.’ ”

We sat there for a moment, and I was lost in his gaze, just as I imagined Elizabeth Bennet would have been.

“Penny,” Jax said, his voice low and husky.

I would have done just about anything he asked me to.

But then someone began applauding behind us. I whipped my head around to find Lulu standing there, slowly clapping. She had a big smile on her face, one that didn’t look genuine at all. I remembered how she had treated Emmy, and how Jax had said he didn’t trust her. I didn’t trust her either, and yet she seemed to always be around.

“Brava,” she said, coming over. “I always knew you were a talented actor, Jax, but Penny.” Lulu kissed her fingers in a terribly obnoxious way. “You read those lines like you meant them.”

Something in her tone made me narrow my eyes. I got the sense that her comments about my acting ability weren’t really referring to the scene we had just run. Did she know that Jax and I were pretending for the paparazzi? That our relationship was just as fictionalized as Darcy and Elizabeth’s?

“We’re needed on set,” Lulu told Jax.

He nodded.

“Thanks for your help,” he told me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “See you later?”

I nodded, still feeling a little stunned by everything that had happened.

He had been acting as Darcy just then, but it had felt real—just as real as what was happening in private between us.

So what was fact and what was fiction?

I liked Jax, and I wanted to be open and honest with him, but that was impossible. My boundaries were getting blurred, and I didn’t know how to change that. Because this is what I had agreed to—non-disclosure contracts and all.

And the worst part was, I wanted more.

More sweet words, more kisses, more believing Jax was really the man for me. It was all pretend, but it felt so good, I didn’t care.

What did that make me: an actress . . .

Or a liar?