If the moment had a hashtag it was probably #blueballed.

The drive to his house was hard—almost as hard as his erection because, dammit, Melanie looked tempting. So very, very tempting.

In her worn clothes, she’d been attractive. Dress her in something a little more upscale, toss on a light dab of makeup, and with her hair pulled back and shining…wow.

Like big fucking wow. As in, he wanted to toss her over a shoulder, take her somewhere private, and show her how hot he found her wow.

Somehow he doubted she’d agree to that. The only reason she sat in this car was because of the deal they’d made. The realization kept him in check—and his hands on the wheel instead of stroking her thigh.

“Where are we going?” She broke the tense silence in the car.

“The mansion for a family dinner.”

“I thought your grandfather was sick.”

“He is.”

“Yet we’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah. Him, my so-called cousin, his fiancée, and us.” His lips twisted into a sneer. “Granddad insisted so we could get to know each other better.”

“You don’t believe he’s your cousin.”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ on the answer. “I find it a tad too convenient that, as my grandfather is ailing, some guy we never even suspected existed shows up out of nowhere claiming he’s family.”

“And your grandfather believed him?”

“So he claims. He is, however, getting a DNA test done. The results are just taking longer than expected.”

“I thought DNA stuff was pretty quick these days.”

“Usually it is. However, our usual lab had some technical problems, and since we don’t trust anyone else”—because they certainly couldn’t give shifter blood samples to humans to play with— “we kind of have to wait.”

“If I were a believer in conspiracies, I’d say that’s very convenient for your cousin.”

He slapped the steering wheel and exclaimed, “That’s exactly what I said! But grandfather is being a senile old coot. Waxing all sentimental about how Rory looks just like Trixie, if his sister were a girl, of course.”

“What if he really is your cousin?”

His grip tightened on the wheel, making it creak. “He’s not.”

“But what if he is?” she insisted.

“Then I guess we’d better make sure we’re wed before he is.” What he didn’t add was the pregnant part. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, although—he cast Melanie a glance—bedding Melanie wouldn’t be a hardship. Not one bit.

“Tell me some stuff about yourself. If we’re going to make this work, then I should have some kind of idea who you are.”

Good point. “I’m twenty-six. I work for Towering Oaks Incorporated. My parents are dead. Dad was shot by a hunter when I was ten.” Bloody poacher thought he’d tagged a real moose. Imagine his surprise when he went to bag his prize and found a bleeding man instead. “My mom was taken by a car accident.” An event that crushed not only a young boy who loved his mother, but the man who’d sired her. In their grief they’d bonded, but that bond was tested over and over again due to his grandfather’s ornery nature. “What about you?”

“You know about my mom. Dying of liver cancer and making everyone suffer along with her.” Melanie didn’t hide the bitterness in her words. “Never knew my dad. He took off when I was young, too young to remember him. I don’t even have a name or a face. My mother never shared anything about him.”

“That sucks.” At least he’d had time with his.

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t care enough to stick around, then it was probably for the best. I don’t have much else interesting to add. I went to college. Had just graduated when my mother insisted I care for her.”

“No offense, but it doesn’t sound as if you like her much.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you come back to care for her?”

A deep sigh heaved out of her. “A feeling of obligation. The woman gave birth to me. Then abused me. And heaped guilt upon guilt. Rationally, I know I should walk away…”

“But?” he prodded.

“She’s the only family I have. Once she’s gone, I’ll truly be alone.”

The lonely words struck him, especially since he understood. As much as his grandfather drove him batty, he also was his only family tie. Once he died, it would be just Bryce.

Just me. For a moment he understood his grandfather’s burning desire to see a great-grandchild. To know that a part of him would live on.

Melanie spoke. “How much of my real life did you want me to use? It’s not very glamorous, so I’ll understand if you want me to pretend to be someone else.”

“No. I want you to be yourself.” The world was already full of pretense.

“You do realize that it’s not just my upbringing that will set me apart. I never learned any fancy manners. I might not know which fork to use.”

“So long as you don’t eat with your hands behind your back, face first in the plate, you’ll be fine.”

“I think I can manage that.” A snicker left her, the mirth-filled sound wrapping around him and tugging forth a smile.

“You’ll do great.” Better than great because Melanie had an innate sweetness about her, a softness with a steel core. She wouldn’t bend easily, but she could be shaped into something wonderful. Someone perfect for a billionaire in need of a wife.

Pulling up in front of the house, behind a sports car with the top down, the vanity plate reading RoryBeau, he paused for a moment.

Could he truly go through this charade? Lie to his grandfather just to inherit?

He looked over at Melanie, biting her lower lip, looking adorable, and it struck him.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be fake.