What is he doing to me? Driving me crazy, that’s what.

It’s not even fair. How can I keep separating what he’s saying and doing, and what we’re actually in this for? Because he is too darn convincing and it’s getting harder and harder for me to not get my heart involved. I sort of want to remind him that he doesn’t have to try so hard to make us look believable, but I also want to crawl into his lap and stay there.

It’s complicated.

Real complicated.

Ugh…I wish he wasn’t so darn right about the drink too. It’s exactly what I need. Why does he have to be right about everything, always? If he were wrong every once in a while, it would make him seem a little more human, a little less perfect. To date, the only thing that makes him even the slightest bit relatable is the way he’s still hung up on his ex. Strange considering she happens to be the most dreadful harpy I’ve ever met.

I look up at him from under my lashes. He’s saying something to Mark. Is that creature really the kind of woman he goes for? I wish I could get Mark alone for a few minutes and ask him. He seems like a good guy. Fun, charming, playful with gently tanned skin. And he looks like a west coaster too, with his blond hair and piercing eyes. Almost as handsome as Brock, but in a different way.

My eyes look for and find Charlotte as she weaves her way through the crowd of guests, dragging Trent behind her and laughing that shrill laugh of hers. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on his way to the dentist for a root canal tomorrow night, instead of getting married to the woman he loves. I guess that’s the way marriage goes for people like him and her. They run in the same circles and have to marry within the circle or they’ll feel as if they’ve married beneath them. Nevermind, they have nothing in common with each other as people or they’re not hot for each other.

I turn my attention back to Brock. He’s nodding and there is so much intelligence in his face. Could he really be in love with her? It seems almost unbelievable. He seems too smart and sophisticated not to be able to see through her act. I mean he saw right through me on our first meeting. Maybe she’s really incredible in bed or something? Is that his Achilles heel? But are men really that stupid? Does sex blind them so much that they can’t recognize a twenty-four-carat bitch when she shimmies up to them and treats them like a piece of shit?

“Catch you later,” Brock says to Mark and turns to me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, touching my bare shoulder.

I feel almost naked in this dress, no matter how sexy it is or how far his eyes popped out of his head when he first saw me in it, I’m not used to baring this much skin. “About how unreal this is,” I lie with a shaky laugh. “This time last week, I was cleaning apartments and planning to do the same thing for the foreseeable future. But here I am. In this fine hotel, this high society party, in this wildly expensive designer dress…with you.”

“Life can turn on a dime,” he agrees.

“I’m still not entirely sure why you have me here with you,” I confess. It must be the liquor loosening my tongue. I have to remember to take it easy, no matter how tasty it is. Drinking isn’t my forte. I lose my tight control very fast and the last thing I need is to get drunk and make a big mistake.

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. “I don’t think Charlotte believes you would be with someone like me.”

“Trust me, I didn’t make a mistake. You’re so perfect you’ve got Charlotte dying to scratch your eyes out.” He allows his fingers to trail down my arm, raising goosebumps.

I wish I could lean against him, absorb his touch, and ask him to take me upstairs. Oh, I want nothing more than to do that. There’s an almost discernable pain in my chest I want it so much. “But what difference does it make? It’s obvious she’s miserable with this guy.” I have to lean in close and murmur in his ear to be heard without giving us away, but it’s not exactly a hardship. His cologne alone is enough to make my inner thighs tingle.

“You think so?” he replies, his voice deep and resonant, stirring the hairs on the back of my neck until they stand up.

Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?

“You don’t see it?” I straighten and scan the room for her. I find her fast. It’s hard to miss her in her skin-tight white dress. Like we need the reminder that she’s the bride. The smile plastered on her face looks about as real as her hair extensions—admittedly, they’re pretty high-quality, but they’re clearly not the real deal. Nobody has hair like that, so thick and wild. That tamed-yet-untamed look. Actually, everything about her is a fake.

“You think she’s pining away with love for me?”

I turn back to look at him. One corner of his sensuous lips curls upwards. I would if I were in her Jimmy Choos. Then again, I wouldn’t let him get away from me in the first place. I stare up into his beautiful eyes. Again, I have a sensation of déjà vu. Which is really weird.

One eyebrow arches. He’s waiting for my answer.

Gosh, I wish I didn’t feel like this. I wish standing so close to him with his hand on my back and the scent of his cologne playing on my senses, didn’t turn me into such a fool. I wish I could be stronger than I am, but I don’t think I can. I’m only human, and he’s—him. The most irresistible man I ever laid eyes on.

I clear my throat. “If she has half a brain in her head, she should,” I say. It has to be the drink. I would never say something like that if I were sober.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Of all the ways he could respond, that was the last one I would’ve expected. The music is light, a sort of nondescript, inoffensive dance tune, and a few couples are already taking a turn on the floor.

“Let’s dance. Isn’t that what people who are in love do?”

I blink at him. Oh, God. In love? “Um…”

“Come on. You can show me some of your dance moves.” He takes my hand and leads me across the room.

I don’t dare protest or make a scene. Besides, the thought of having an excuse to be so close to him is exciting. When we reach the dance floor and he turns to pull me into an embrace, I stand on tiptoe to speak into his ear, “Exactly how much do we have to play this up?”

His eyes flash when they meet mine, and the closest thing to an electrical current I can imagine runs up my spine. I’m his. He doesn’t know it. He can never know it. I even wish it weren’t true, because there’s no way this will end well. In spite of that, I would do anything he asked right now. Absolutely anything.

“Let me show you,” he answers, and lets his body do all the talking as he holds me tight, pressing his hand into my lower back and forcing our bodies together. I wind my arms around his neck to support myself and let him lead me as we begin swaying back and forth, our hips rocking in time.

He lowers his head until his mouth skims over my shoulder, then up my throat. The pressure from his lips is so slight, it might just as well not be there at all. Maybe I’m imagining it because that’s what I wish he would do. I wish he would kiss me. And not just for show, the way he is now. I tilt my head back to get a look at him and one corner of his mouth quirks up in a sexy smirk.

Daring me? Maybe.

I press my face to the side of his neck when his hand slides down my back and just barely grazes the top of my butt. We never agreed to anything like this but it’s all so good, so right. I wouldn’t stop him for anything in the world. I can feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, just under my lips, and I want to sweep my tongue over that spot.

The urge to do so is almost impossible to fight, especially with the buzzing, tingling feeling between my legs getting stronger every time our bodies rub against each other. I’m breathless, dizzy, holding on for dear life now, as he controls our motion. A bead of sweat rolls down his neck and disappears under his shirt collar and oh, God—I want to lick it off. I have to squeeze my eyes shut to block it out.

But there’s no blocking out the touch of his hands on me, my dress sliding over my skin until I’m so completely lost in sensation I don’t ever want to be found. When I dare open my eyes again, he’s looking down at me and our mouths are only inches from each other as we’re both breathing hard and heavy— oh, yes, I’m lost. Falling. Wanting to fall even further…

The song is over. So is our dance. He steps back, breaking the spell. Probably for the best.

I need another drink. He takes my hand and we walk towards the bar where he gets us a drink. I drink mine like it is water.

Brock’s eyes widen.

“Can I have another?”

Without a word, he turns to orders another one.

I look around and to my surprise, my gaze gets entangled by Charlotte. We stare at each other. I just can’t look away from the hate in her eyes. Then someone calls to her and she tears her eyes away from mine.

Wow! What the hell?

“Are you all right?” Brock asks, handing me my drink.

I can feel the heat from the alcohol and the sexual tension throbbing in my veins. Screw it! I’ll give her something to be really jealous about. I take his hand and pull him towards the gardens. Outside the night is balmy. I run my hand over the nape of my neck. It is already damp.

“So…what are we doing out here, Dani?” Brock’s voice is soft, his huge hand on my waist.

God, what would it be like to be on my back in his bed? I squeeze my thighs together as I remember how thick and long his erection was pressed into my belly. It’s enough to soak my panties. I’m on fire—for the taste of Brock.

I turn around to face him. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just feel this crazy heat inside me, between my legs. I know I shouldn’t, but hell—this is Vegas. “Let’s pretend to make out in that shed there.”

His eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline.

No, I’m not the sane Dani I’ve known all my life. This Dani is fierce and powerful and knows exactly how to get what she wants. I’ll give him something to remember me for when he thinks he still wants her. I tell myself this, but I know it’s a lie. I want this for myself. This is for me to remember for when this weekend is over.