Chapter Three

Riley

She's mine.

I've only seen my bride for a few moments, and yet I can already tell I've got her wrapped around my finger. I've seen that expression on her face many times before--that look of awe and fascination with a gleam of unabashed desire, a glint of uncontrollable lust. She's already fallen for me hook, line and sinker.

I give her my best smile and she blushes then quickly looks away.

Shy, is she? Or is she just acting? No matter. Once the cameras stop rolling, it will just be her and me, and I'll make sure nothing will come between us. I'll have her trembling and moaning beneath me tonight.

In anticipation, excitement buzzes in my groin. My gaze travels over her breasts--not too big, so I'm sure they'll fit nicely in my hands and in my mouth--over her arms that will soon be wrapped around me, and over her hips that I can't wait to clutch between my fingers, neither too wide nor too narrow. She's got a nice figure, actually, and a beautiful face with eyes that remind me of the ocean. I even like the vibrant brown luster of her hair, which must look lovelier when it's spilling past her shoulders.

Very nice.

When they told me the woman who was supposed to be my bride was in an accident and they had to find a last-minute replacement, I was afraid I'd get stuck with someone plain, but this woman sure is pretty. I wonder where they found her.

What was her name again? Lena, I think they said.

I'm sure I'll forget it once this show is over, but I can guarantee she won't forget mine, especially not after I make her scream it a few times.

We reach the stairs of the gazebo and I offer her my hand. Her fingers tremble slightly as they rest on my palm.

She's nervous, is she? Scared? Well, she is the one getting married to a celebrity. This may only be for a week, but it's something she'll remember forever. And she may know who I am, but marrying a stranger is still a big step. I have to say I admire her courage.

The ceremony begins. Like any ceremony, it's scripted. Serious. Boring. After the judge says a few things and asks a few questions, we exchange rings and sign the papers. Then comes the exciting part. I grasp her chin and press my lips against hers. To my dismay, they remain frigid.

Well, she'll warm up to me soon enough.

After we pose for the camera, we go to another part of the garden to have our first dinner. This is all the celebration we get, a candlelit dinner for two instead of a reception attended by family and friends like married couples usually have. Our first meal as husband and wife. And strangely, our first date.

"Lena, right?" I speak first as soon as the entree--seared scallops and vegetables in white truffle oil--has been served.

She nods as she picks up her fork carefully.

So she really is shy. And it's probably her first time in front of the camera, so she's trying not to make a mistake. That's normal. But someone should have told her not to try too hard. In my experience, the more you try not to make mistakes, the more of them you end up making.

"And just let me know if I need to give you my name," I say in hopes of lightening the mood. "In case you didn't catch it earlier."

"Oh, I did." She pokes her fork into a stick of asparagus. "I mean, I caught your name, but I already knew it before then. They... told me."

"Really?" I lean forward. "So they told you I'm Tom Hardy?"

Finally, she lifts her chin and points those bluish green eyes at me. "You're not..."

She stops as she realizes I'm kidding. I grin.

"You're Riley Boyle," she says as she gives me a hint of a charming smile. "Everyone knows that."

"And what exactly do you know about me?" I ask to coax her out of her shell. Well, I'm curious to know it, too.

"That you're a swimmer with seventeen Olympic gold medals," Lena answers as she cuts into a scallop. "Which makes you the swimmer with the second most medals in Olympic history."

"Too bad I couldn't beat Michael Phelps. I broke two of his records, though."

"Have you met him?"

"A few times."

She continues eating in silence.

And she's back in her shell. Okay. I guess I'll have to prod a little more.

"Sure you don't want to ask me any more questions?" I stack an onion, a cherry tomato and a scallop on my fork and shove them all inside my mouth. "Like how I started swimming? Why I love swimming? What's the most unforgettable part of my swimming career?"

Lena tears her gaze off her vegetables to meet mine. "Something tells me you've had too many interviews."

"And you've read most of them."

"A few," she admits. "My father's a fan of yours."

"I see." Finally, she's opening up. "What does your father do?"

"He's a doctor, but he doesn't practice anymore."

"Why not?"

"He had an accident while diving and partially lost his hearing."

I pause. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She dabs her chin with the edge of the table napkin. "It could have been worse."

An optimist, hmm? I can't say I'm one, but I don't exactly dislike them.

"So your father swims." I let my last piece of scallop dance around my bowl to gather the oil before chewing on it. "Or at least, he used to."

"Yeah."

"What about you? Do you swim?"

Lena shakes her head.

I reach for my glass of wine and take a sip. "What's your sport?"

"I'm afraid I'm not the sporty type," she answers as she cuts into another scallop and eats half. "I can ride a bike. I've gone skiing and I tried to learn a bit of football after watching Bend It Like Beckham, but that's about it. Overall, I'm not really an active, outdoorsy person."

That explains why she doesn't have much muscle on her.

"You look fit, though."

And something tells me she'd look good in a two-piece swimsuit.

"Oh, my dad insisted on a healthy diet." She lifts her fork with the asparagus on it.

I grin as I tap my fingers on my glass. "You and your dad seem close."

She gives another shake of her head. "I was actually closer to my mom."

Was, I note as I watch the asparagus disappear past her thin lips.

"She and I used to watch--"

Suddenly, Lena stops. Ah, she's remembered the cameras are still turning. Pity. I would have liked to hear what she was going to say.

"Anyway, enough about me," she says as she forces a smile. "Tell me about your family."

"I thought you didn't want to ask questions."

She shrugs.

I lean back and tap my fingers on the table. Family, huh? Not my choice of topic, either.

"Let's just say they're very busy," I tell her. "And that they don't exactly approve of me being here."

"Oh." Lena pauses in the process of cutting a cherry tomato. "Why not?"

"Does your family approve of you marrying a perfect stranger?"

Her eyes meet mine. "No. You're right. It's only natural they wouldn't approve. This is crazy, after all. We're both crazy."

"Then we're perfect for each other."

I poke my fork into the squirty tomato she can't seem to cut or pin down and lift it to her lips. She reluctantly opens them to let the vegetable in. Or is it a fruit? I can never remember.

Either way, I wish I could shove something else in her mouth.

She covers her mouth with the napkin after as she looks away. A blush coats her cheeks.

My eyes narrow as I take another sip of wine. Could she be a virgin? I was informed that the woman who would be my wife wasn't, but since Lena is a replacement, that's not necessarily true. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I watch her as she tries to hold on to her composure while finishing her entree, the more I'm convinced she's never had a man. That means I'll be her first.

My lips curve into a grin above the rim of my glass. I can't wait to have her blushing all over.

Finally, she finishes her scallops and vegetables. A waiter takes the empty bowls away while another sets two plates in front of us with our main course--steak and potatoes.

I set my glass down. "Ooh. That looks yummy."

Lena, however, looks a tad disappointed as she stares at the tenderloin in front of her.

"Doesn't your father approve of steak?" I ask as I cut into mine.

It's medium rare, just how I like it.

"He does, but I... let's just say I got a stomachache once from eating steak."

"Maybe it just wasn't prepared well." I pop the cut piece between my teeth. The flavor of the meat and the spices bursts into my mouth. "This one's good."

She doesn't look convinced.

"Do you want me to try yours first just to be sure?" I offer.

"No, no." That makes her pick up her knife as she shakes her head. She doesn't want me to go near her plate now, does she?

"I'm fine. You're probably right. That was probably not prepared well, and of course, this one is."

She bites the morsel of beef off her fork.

"Of course." I nod. "It wouldn't do any good to have you throwing up in bed on our wedding night."

She stops chewing. Again, her cheeks grow red. A flicker of fear crosses her eyes.

Lena's a virgin, alright. Damn, I've always wanted to tease one.

"Don't worry," I go on. "I'm sure it will be perfect."

She continues chewing but averts her gaze.

"And we'll do it however you want it. Fast. Slow."

She swallows and shifts in her seat. Ooh, did I get her panties in a twist? Or a little wet, maybe?

I know I should probably stop, but this is getting fun. Just a bit more.

"You know I'm flexible, right?"

That last bit proves to be too much. Her hand holding the fork slips, which in turn makes the potato on her plate slip, or rather, jump. It hits my wine glass and topples it over, causing a burgundy puddle on the linen and a splatter on my shirt.

"Shit." Lena gets up and clasps both hands to her mouth as I straighten the glass up.

I'm too amused by her first genuine reaction of the evening to frown at the accident.

"I'm really, really sorry," she apologizes profusely as she approaches me.

"It's alright," I tell her as I glance at my shirt.

It was my fault anyway for teasing her too much.

As the waiter cleans up the mess, Lena presses her hand to her forehead.

"This is so embarrassing."

"So? Couples are allowed to do embarrassing things in front of each other, aren't they?"

I feel her tense at the word 'couple'.

"Hey. It's fine." I pat her arm. "Better my shirt than your gown."

She takes a closer look at it. "But will the stain come off?"

"I guess you'll find out. After all, you'll be doing my laundry, won't you?"

For the first time, her lips curve into a grin. "I guess I will."

"I'll leave it to you then, Mrs. Boyle."

Her robin-egg eyes widen.

"But first, let's finish dinner." I gesture to the table. "Unless you want me to take it off now? I am wearing my swimsuit underneath."

"No." Lena goes back to her seat. "You don't have to."

She sits down.

"Wait. You're really wearing your swimsuit?"

"You want to see it?"

"No," she answers quickly as she picks up her fork. "So you're swimming later?"

"I usually go for a quick swim before I go to bed."

"I see."

"Care to join me?"

Lena shakes her head. "I don't think so."

Another no, huh?

"I'll just wait in... inside the house."

I bet she almost said "in the bedroom".

"And do the laundry."

"Sure."

"And get all this makeup off."

And her gown?

"I'm sure you'll look great even without it."

She shrugs as she keeps her eyes on her plate. "But you just go and swim. I mean, that's your thing. And it's not like I'm going anywhere."

She lifts her hand with the ring on it to prove her point and I chuckle.

Yup. She's not going anywhere. Except to bed. Our bed.

A shiver of delight goes down my spine in anticipation.

Maybe I'll cut my swim a bit short tonight.

~

After my swim, I go inside the bedroom and find Lena standing on a stool in her maroon pajamas, peeking into the air conditioning vent.

I place my hands on my hips. "Um, Lena, what are you doing?"

I realize my mistake in sneaking up on her too late. Startled, she takes a step back and falls off the stool. Thankfully, I manage to break her fall.

"Are you alright?" I ask her as I cradle her in my arms.

She shoves herself off me and quickly puts some distance between us. "I'm fine."

I watch her as she smooths the front of her pajamas. Pajamas? Really? Not a robe with a chemise underneath? I can even catch a glimpse of gray lace through the gap between two buttons.

Oh well. At least the buttons are large, easy to take off. And maybe this is one of those cases where the unwrapping will add some thrill to the present itself.

"You're back quickly," Lena adds.

"What were you doing?" I ask again.

She tucks strands of hair behind her ear. They're flowing freely past her shoulders now, and just as I thought, it suits her better.

"Just checking that there really aren't any cameras here."

Interesting. "And?"

"I didn't find any. Oh, and I checked the bathroom, too before I took a shower."

I thought I caught the scent of soap on her. And here I thought we could enjoy a shower together. Maybe some other time.

"Good. I'll take a shower, then."

"Okay." She turns her back to me.

I close the distance between us and wrap an arm around her waist. I brush back more strands of her hair so I can whisper in her ear.

"Unless you want me to do something else first."

Immediately, her shoulders stiffen.

I wrap tendrils of her hair around my finger and press them to my lips, then plant a kiss on the back of her shoulder.

"Lena..."

She breaks free of my hold and turns around with her hands in front of her.

"You're right. There is something."

But I have the feeling it's not what I'm thinking.

"We need to talk first."

My eyebrows crease. "Didn't we do that during dinner?"

"I mean talk for real."

Okay.

I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hands on my lap. "I'm all ears."

"You know I'm not the one you were supposed to marry, right?" Lena asks me.

"I heard."

"I was actually a production assistant on this show and they had me fill in for your chosen wife."

My eyebrows arch. "Really?"

"That means that I didn't ask to be here, that I didn't want to marry you."

Okay. I wasn't expecting that.

"But you are married to me now," I point out.

"Yes. But I want you to understand that I'm just doing this because I was asked to. I'm going to play along. When the camera's rolling, I'm going to play your wife and do the challenges with you and all that couple stuff..."

Couple stuff? I wonder if she thinks that includes kissing, touching, making--

"But once no one's filming, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your distance and respect my privacy."

What?

"Don't worry." She raises her hands. "You can have the bed. I'll... sleep on that chaise lounge over there." She glances at it. "I'd sleep on the couch, but I'm supposed to stay in this room with you."

I throw her a puzzled look. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. We'll just be like... roommates. Housemates. Whatever. In a week, we'll part ways, so there's really no point in getting close to each other. And no need, really. I never wanted to be here and you're just..." Lena shrugs. "I don't really know why you're here, but I don't care. You'll move on with your glorious life and forget me."

"Wow." My eyes grow wide.

Shy? Scared? No. This is the real Lena.

And fuck, I think I want her even more now.

She clasps her hands together. "So, do we understand each other?"

I nod. "Loud and clear."

"Good."

She lets out a breath of relief and grabs a pillow from the bed. I grab the other end.

"Just one thing," I say to her. "You get the bed."

"Okay."

For now. Because for sure, before this week is over, we'll both be in it. And everyone can bet we won't just be sleeping.

I head to the bathroom with a wide grin.

So Lena wants to play, does she? She wants me to break through her defenses and win her over? Fine by me. I'm just as good with endurance as I am with speed.

And by God, one way or another, I'm going to get what I want from my wife.

Like Jerry said, no woman says no to Riley Boyle McAllister.