Chapter 4
Reid
A fucking horde of paparazzi, hired by Merrick I’m sure, is waiting for us when we land in Belize. Somehow, we need to fight our way through that wall of human beings to get to our car.
Not being accustomed to the crush of bodies and the flash of camera lights, I do my best to shield Kate as we push through the crowd, her little hand tucked safely in mine. We’re within ten feet or so of the limo waiting to take us to our honeymoon retreat when one of the reporters sticks a microphone in my face. “Reid, how is marriage treating you so far?”
I slide an arm around my wife’s waist to keep her close to me. “Wonderful. Never been happier. Thanks.” Then I shoulder my way past him, pulling her along. A smattering of questions are barked at us, but I keep going until we reach the safety of the limo. There I stop and turn to face the cameras while my wife boards. I smile and wave. “Maybe our marriage didn’t start out the way most do, but we’re still newlyweds. On our honeymoon. So, you know, how about some space and privacy?”
“Have you consummated the marriage?” some classless asshole shouts.
I hate classless assholes.
Annoyed by the question but not surprised, I lift my hand. “Out of respect for my wife, I’m not going to answer that question.”
Then I slide into the car and close my eyes for a moment.
“I take it, this isn’t normal?” a little voice asks.
“I’m a B-list actor. I’m no Chris Pratt,” I answer. I roll my head toward her. She’s frowning. “You have no idea who Chris Pratt is, do you?” My heart lurches when I look into those wide eyes. I see so much innocence. Giving her a reassuring smile, I add, “No, this isn’t normal. Not for me. The show hired them. They’re trying to push up the ratings. Create hype. It’s all a game.”
“Then it’s good?”
“It’s good for the show. It’ll get even worse once the season airs. You have no idea what you’ve signed up for.” I take her little hand in mine again, marveling at how natural it feels to hold it, and how intensely I feel the loss when I let go. “I’m going to try to protect you. As much as I can.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope it’ll be good enough. I don’t know what the producers have up their sleeves. Between you and me, I feel I should warn you. I’ve seen John Merrick’s shows. He’s going to try to put us in a position where we’ll do things for the camera. Things that’ll make the ratings soar.”
She blinks. Those eyes. They are so clear. So full of trust. And honesty. “Such as what?”
“Well, get…physical, for instance. You know….um…kiss. And stuff. Or fight. I don’t know yet what they’re looking for.”
Her sweet features tighten. “I see.”
“These shows are never real,” I explain. “There’s no script, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t scripted in a sense.”
Kate gently pulls her hand from mine. “I think I understand.” Her expression changes.
I’ve said something wrong.
Fuck. I need to fix it. Whatever I just said.
I think I know what it is.
“I don’t want you to think that every time I touch you it’s for them,” I tell her, needing to make sure she understands that. “Or everything I say is fake. I want to be real with you.”
She shakes her head, and a glimmering tendril of hair falls over her face again. I reach for it, aching to feel it’s satiny softness, but she tucks it behind her ear before I can get to it. “I’m so confused. Why are you telling me this? Are you being real? Or aren’t you?”
“This is real.” Needing to touch her, anywhere, I reach for her hand again. She lets me take it. Thank God. I look down, at her smooth, ivory skin. So soft. So perfect. I drag my thumb over it. “All the things we talked about on the plane. They were real. What I said then. It was real.”
What I feel for you. That’s real. Very fucking real.
“I don’t know how to act, Reid. I don’t know how to pretend for the cameras. Is that what you want me to do?”
“No. I don’t want you to pretend. Neither do they. They picked you because they knew you won’t act. Be you. You’ll tug at the viewers’ heartstrings.” Just like you have mine. “I’m telling you this because…” Because I want to protect you. From all of this. All of them. “I want you to be aware, they’re going to manipulate us for their purposes.”
Her lips curl into a semi-smile and all I can think about is how sweet they taste. And how much I want to kiss them again. I’ve only kissed her once so far. During our wedding. We can’t be intimate. But what’s wrong with a little kissing? Right? “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you. For trying to help me understand.”
The car stops in front of a large house, and we climb out. There’s no photographers. A relief. I get out of the car first and wait for Kate.
Her jaw drops when she climbs out. “Wow. Where are we? It’s so beautiful here. So green. And warm.”
“We’re on an island. Ambergris Caye. In Belize,” I tell her. “Please tell me you’ve heard of it.”
“No. So, we aren’t in the United States, right?”
I nod.
Staring at the impressive house before us, she asks, “What is this place? A hotel?”
“It’s a house. Ours for our ‘honeymoon’.” I make air quotes.
She blinks huge, glittery eyes. “This is a house?”
Charmed by her goggle-eyed reaction, I follow her up the walk to the massive front door and open it for her. The other women I’ve dated never reacted to anything like Kate has. They were blind to the luxury. So accustomed to expensive things, they took them for granted.
But not my Kate.
She takes one step inside and stops. “This cannot be a house.” She walks through the open living room-dining room-kitchen. “This can not be a house.” Her hand drags across the marble counter spanning the full length of a kitchen island that occupies more square footage than most New York apartments. “This is not a house.” She stops in front of the wall of doors leading outside to the pool and outdoor living space. “Not a house.” She slowly does a one-eighty, her gaze meandering as she turns. “Reid, this is unreal.”
“They want it to be. They want us to get caught up in the fantasy.”
“They’re doing a good job.” She pulls on the back door and it folds like an accordion, opening the entire rear wall of the house. I have to say, I’m impressed by the billion dollar view out there. Beyond the gorgeous infinity pool is a few of clear Caribbean blue sea and a cloudless sky. Breathtaking. But you know what’s even more breathtaking? My wife. “Wow.” Her hair being tossed by the ocean breeze, she steps outside and peers down at the pool. “I don’t know how to swim. But that water looks really good. It’s hot here.” She closes her eyes, giving me a chance to admire her lovely profile. Her smooth, flawless skin and high cheekbones and delicate features. I can’t imagine this beautiful, petite woman shoveling shit in a barn or hauling wood, like she described. She appears too small to do those things. Too delicate. “The air smells so good. I noticed it the minute we got off the plane.”
“It does,” I agree, my gaze locking on her mouth. Her lips are full. Plump. Tempting. Yes, one kiss is definitely not enough for me. Since yesterday, I have been dying to kiss her again. And again. And again. She’s so pure and natural, unlike the women I’ve dated in the past. Fake tits. Fake lips. Fake everything.
The producers knew exactly what they were doing, picking her.
My dick is getting hard, of course. I don’t want her to see it, and I realize there’s one sure way to solve my problem.
I dive into the pool.
When my head breaks the surface, she’s grinning down at me. The sight is so spectacular my heart lurches in my chest.
“I can’t believe you just did that!” she says, laughing. I paddle to the side and splash some water at her, and she squeals and jumps back. “You’re still wearing your all your clothes. Even your shoes. You’re crazy!”
I swim toward the shallow end. “The water feels great. Come in.”
“I can’t swim.”
“It’s safe over here.” I stand, letting her see how shallow the water is. Four feet deep, at most. And just cool enough to chill the blood flow to one formerly prominent part of my anatomy.
She purses her lips. “Hmmm. I should probably change. These clothes—“
I splash her and this time she isn’t fast enough.
The spray douses her and she blinks at me, shocked. “Why did you do that?” she asks, breathless.
Why did I do that?
Hmmm.
I know. Because I want her to come into the pool with me.
And why do I want her to come into the pool with me?
I don’t know.
Just…because I’m having fun?
Or because she’s wearing that white t-shirt.
And it’s wet again.
What can I say, I can’t help myself.
Look at that, I can get hard in cold water.
“Your clothes are wet anyway,” I tell her.
“Thanks to you.”
“If that bitchy wardrobe director has anything to say about your clothes, I’ll handle it.”
She gives me a scowly look but it’s not a serious grimace. No, there’s a playful glimmer in her eyes. And I like it. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
She kicks off one shoe. “Is the water very cold?”
“No. It’s nice.” I bend my knees and immerse myself up to my chin.
She kicks off the other shoe and bare foots to the wide steps at the shallow end. Gripping the handrail, she dips a toe in the water. “Oh. It feels like bath water.”
“You see, I didn’t lie.” I plod through the water, moving toward her.
Kate doesn’t swim. Even though the water is shallow, I should be close to her. You know, just in case…
Okay, yeah. I’m not scrambling to her side because I think she’s going to drown in four feet of water.
I want to be close to her.
I want to touch her.
I want to…do a lot of things to her. With her. For her.
And, holy shit, can I just say she has the world’s most perfect tits? Her little nipples are hard.
I’m a fucking Neanderthal.
She plunks down two steps, sucking in a gasp when the water hits her thighs. I wish she wasn’t wearing pants. Or that shirt. Or anything else. “Yikes it feels a little colder now.”
“Just go for it. Jump in. That’s the way to do it.”
Looking cold, but absolutely scrumptious, she grimaces. “Maybe I can swim later.” She shuffles around to climb out.
Oh no, you don’t. I plow through the water and sweep her into my arms.
She shrieks, wraps her little arms around my neck and flattens her sexy little self against me, and my whole body goes hot and hard instantly.
Good decision.
Maybe.
“Hold your breath,” I say then let my knees buckle. We emerge a split second later, and I swear the heat pouring off my body is going to make half the pool water evaporate.
Our gazes lock.
Yes, that was definitely a good decision.
Her lush body is wrapped around mine.
Our mouths are inches from each other. Inches.
Her lips are parted ever so slightly.
And they’re right there.
Waiting to be kissed.
Everything in me is screaming, my woman.
Mine.
Kate isn’t my pretend wife; she’s my real wife.
Mine to keep.
I press my lips to hers and the world starts spinning out of control.
She’s every bit as sweet as I remember. Maybe even more.
I trace the seam of her mouth with my tongue and she trembles and tightens her hold on me. Fighting the urge to rip off her clothes and consummate our fake marriage, right here, in the fucking pool, I brush my mouth over hers, back and forth, back and forth. When I feel her try to pull away, I cup the back of her head in my hand, fingers tangled in her wet hair.
Decision made.
Kate is my wife.
Mine.
She flattens her hands on my chest…and shoves. Hard.
Then she scrambles away, practically falling into the water.
“Kate!” I call after her.
She keeps thrashing toward the steps. “I can’t…” Once she’s out of the pool, she turns to me. “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend.”
“This isn’t pretend, Kate.”
Hugging herself, she shakes her head and dashes into the house, leaving me standing in the pool, wishing I hadn’t just tasted heaven.
I have three months to make sure she doesn’t want to leave me.
I’m not going to wait until the end to try convincing her. Hell no.
I’ve found the woman of my dreams. On this stupid television show.
Now, how to make her see it isn’t all fantasy?