“This was a mistake. A huge mistake, Valerie,” I say into my phone as I pace inside my condo. I grab the TV remote and flick on the news to drown out the quiet of the place. After growing up in a house with a noisy, rambunctious brother, then living in a Stanford dorm with two other roommates, I thought I’d enjoy the solitude more than I actually do. Sometimes though, it’s kind of lonely living here by myself. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Braxton to be in that big mansion all alone. Then again, he does have a different girl every night to keep him company. Not that I care. He can do whatever he wants.

“Why are you so nervous, anyway?” Valerie asks. “It’s just Braxton. You’ve known him forever.”

“I shouldn’t have asked him.” Of all people, I shouldn’t have asked him. “I didn’t think this through. You should have stopped me.”

“Stopped you?” Her snort comes through the phone. “Come on, Eliza. No one can stop you when you put your mind to something.”

I toy with the gold hoop in my ear. “Well, you could have at least tried.”

She laughs and it reverberates through me. “I didn’t even know what you were up to. I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

I shake my head. Truthfully, my best friend isn’t to blame for this. Two hours ago, I single-handedly lit a fuse that could only blow up in my face. Goddammit, you’d think I’d have learned that impulsive decisions based on gut feelings only lead to trouble— and a whole lot of embarrassment.

“I know,” I say and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry. Of course, this isn’t your fault. It’s just another one of my stupid spontaneous decisions.”

“What brought it on, anyway?”

“I was driving past Braxton’s office complex earlier tonight, saw him in the parking lot, and the idea hit like a bolt of lightning.” If only that bolt had killed me! “At the moment, it seemed brilliant, and it actually was, right up until he said he was going to treat me the way he treats his real girlfriends.”

“Ummm, lucky you,” Valerie whispers, her voice all breathy, her words dreamlike.

I nearly swallow my tongue. “Lucky me? Are you serious?” I pace to my bedroom, grab my bathing suit from my dresser and toss it into my overnight bag. It’s a cute pink bikini with a frilly edge. Valerie said it looked great on me but I’m not so sure. I’m used to one-piece suits that don’t show a lot of skin. It’s not that I’m self-conscious…well, okay maybe I am a little—a hold-over from my youth. I used to be heavier when I was younger, and wasn’t comfortable wearing a two-piece except to lay out in the sun on my back deck, alone. Then again, I was never really alone. My brother and his best friend were always around. Not that they paid me a lick of attention.

I turn, catch my reflection in my floor to ceiling mirror, and examine my body. I’d shed my work clothes the second I gotten home, and now I’m wearing my comfortable frayed shorts and a T-shirt. Thanks to eating healthier and regular work-outs, I’ve lost several pounds and like what I see when I look at myself. My legs are long and lean and my breasts appear heavier, a little larger than they actually are, in my Victoria’s Secret push up bra. The truth is, even though I’ve lost the weight and grown curves, I still can’t get Jason’s attention—or any other guy’s, for that matter. Hence my stupid plan.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Valerie says, pulling my thoughts back. “You’re one lucky woman and I wouldn’t mind being in your shoes. I’d take full advantage of it.” She makes some kind of sound, a pleasurable moan, if I had to guess.

“You know his reputation, Valerie. His bedroom has a revolving door.” I hold my finger up and swirl it, even though she can’t see me.

“Which is why I’m jealous. Imagine having that man’s undivided attention for one night, or better yet, the whole long weekend. Ummm, just think about it…three sexy days with those capable, controlling hands touching you, bending you to his will…or over the kitchen counter.”

Do not think about it. Do not think about it.

Oh, God, I’m thinking about it.

“That is so not happening. I don’t even like the guy,” I counter.

Then why are you tingling all over at the thought of “getting bent” by Brax?

“Hey, you don’t have to like him to sleep with him. Take advantage of his revolving door, Eliza. Get in, get a little—or a lot—of sex, and then move on. How long has it been, anyway?” she asks.

“Low blow, Valerie.”

Great now I’m thinking about Brax and blow in the same sentence. I’m going to kill my best friends.

“I’m asking a serious question, Eliza. How long has it been?”

Too long.

I take a deep breath, and shut down my inner voice—the one loving Valerie’s plan. “Remember, I’m using him to get another man’s attention. It’s Jason I want, not Brax.”

“Yeah, I know, but come on, you two will be sharing a room and—”

“Oh, shit…”

“What?”

I stop pacing, and my heart crashes against my ribcage harder. “I never thought that far ahead.”

“Ah, you didn’t stop to think if you were bringing your significant other, that boss man would put you in the same room? You’re consenting adults, Eliza, and it would look odd if you brought your boyfriend to the retreat and asked for two rooms.”

As a new kind of panic grips my throat, I slap my hand to my forehead. “I need to call this off.” I leave my bedroom and hurry to my front window to make sure Braxton’s not here yet. It’s been over two hours since I ran into him, and he went home to get changed and packed for a beachside getaway. It’s almost eight. He’s likely to be here any minute. “Yeah, I’ll text him and call it off. He’ll be happy about that, actually.”

“If you ask me you’re making a mistake.”

“Which is why I’m calling it off,” I blurt out.

“No, Eliza,” she says, her voice low and even. “Your mistake would be in calling it off.”

I shake my head. Valerie is so wrong about this. “I have to go. I need to text him right now before he leaves his house.” I’m about to hang up, but stop when she continues to speak in that low even tone that means she has something serious to say.

“Don’t do it. Let him take you to the retreat. Force him to play the doting boyfriend. Don’t you think he deserves to be put in that uncomfortable situation as payback for all the times he called you lizard, pulled your hair, or teased you? He deserves this,” she says. “If I were you, I’d make him pay, torture him in return.”

Why the hell is she trying so hard to talk me in to this?

Surely to God she doesn’t think I like him.

“I don’t want him, Valerie,” I blatantly point out, in case she’s mistaking the reason for me asking him, specifically.

You have a lot of guy friends, Eliza, so why exactly did it have to be Brax?

“I know, but think of how you could torture him in the bedroom,” she says.

“What are you talking about?”

“Have fun with this situation you got yourself into. Make it work for you and kill two birds, so to speak. While you use him to make Jason stand up and notice, you can get back at Brax for everything he’s done to you over the years. Say you do have to share the same room, the same bed—wear something sexy and torture him. Like you said, you don’t want him, but you can make him want you, then walk away. Or better yet, use him in other ways while you have him there for the weekend.” She coughs out the words, “Dry spell.”

“I am not doing any of that.” I blurt out, even as my mind goes straight to the hot little nightie I’d bought but never had a reason to wear. I’ve been so focused on school, and my career, I haven’t been with a guy in a long time. Which must be why I’m visualizing Braxton on the bed, and me walking around the room in something suggestive. Yeah, that has to be the reason because I don’t want him. Not one little bit.

“Why not?” she asks.

“He doesn’t think of me that way.”

“How do you know?”

“Because…because he doesn’t.”

“Weak, Eliza, really weak.”

“Okay, fine,” I shoot back, changing tactics. “What if I do wear something sexy, and he doesn’t even notice. I can’t handle that kind of rejection.”

Not again.

“You’re not sixteen anymore, my friend,” she says softly, her tone sympathetic.

I pinch my eyes shut and will the unwanted, hurtful images away. I can’t—won’t be that girl again. “I’m calling this off.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my doorbell chimes. Damn, I wanted to catch him before he left his house. I feel bad for dragging him across town, just to break it off, but I guess the proper thing to do would be to tell him in person. I owe him that much respect, right?

“He’s here. I have to go.”

“I’m on my way too. I guess I’ll see you both soon,” she says. “And remember—get your vamp on and bask in the takedown of Braxton Freeman.”

“No, you’ll see me soon.” I slide my finger across the phone to end the call, take a deep fueling breath and walk to my door. I grip the handle, swing it open and when I come face to face with the hottest guy on the planet, every reason I have for ending this stupid ruse slips from my mind.

With one arm behind his back, his dark gaze roams over me, lingers on my breasts, my bare legs, scorching me from the inside out. His eyes close for a brief second, then he’s once again there, taking me in, a stare so dark and penetrating air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I take a faltering step backward, needing the distance to break from his spell.

What the hell? He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive. Since he’s never looked at me like that before, it has to be all part of the act, getting himself in the role of my lover? A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and I brace myself, expecting some smart-ass comment, something insulting about my clothes, or my hair, but instead he gives an appreciative nod, blazing heat still in his eyes as they leisurely travel back to mine.

“I…uh. About this weekend…” I begin, needing to get my head on straight. He’s acting, nothing more, and I’d be wise to remember that.

“For you,” he says and pulls his arm from behind his back to hand me a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

I stare dumbly at the stunning arrangement of wildflowers clutched in his fist. He could have produced anything from behind there—the evening newspaper, carry-out pizza, a water gun to squirt me between the eyes, but…he brought me flowers? Not once in my life has anyone brought me flowers. I reach out and touch the velvety petal of a daisy with the tips of my fingers.

“Are you going to let them wilt?”

The softness of Brax’s voice brings my gaze up and if I’m not mistaken, he looks almost as uncertain as I am surprised. My hands shake a little when I take the bouquet from his. I hope he doesn’t notice. It would give him one more thing to tease me about.

“I’ll put them in some water,” I say, and hurry to my kitchen. I take one quick glance at the man in my doorway, then grab a vase from my cupboard and fill it with water. My brother’s best friend had grown up wealthy, and was always very generous with his money, so the flowers might mean nothing to him, but they mean a lot to me. More than they should, probably. Then again, maybe they do mean something to him. I mean, how many times did he want to pay Derek’s way in life? My dad was a powerhouse attorney, and he left us when we were young. He provided Mom with enough money for us to get a good education at a private school—where my brother met Brax—but mom taught us the value of money, and both Derek and I held down jobs through high school and college. There were times though, I had a feeling Brax was embarrassed by his wealth, always wanting to do more for us. But he worked hard to get where he is today, and he should be proud of that.

I step back into the front entrance way, and find him exactly where I left him. “You didn’t have to do this,” I say quietly, my mind taking another trip down memory lane, to the Christmas when I was sixteen and wanted a gift certificate for the spa to get a mani/pedi. All my friends from school were getting one. Mom told me straight up we couldn’t afford to spend money on frivolous things, but miraculously, on Christmas morning, the gift certificate was under the tree. It was a surprise to all of us, and to this day—even though he vehemently denies it—I had a feeling Brax had everything to do with it.

Exuding a cool control, he tilts his head, and arches a brow. The uncertainty I thought I’d seen before was gone. Brax was back to his old, cocksure self. “Didn’t we already establish that I’d be treating you the same way I treat every other woman I take out?”

“About that…” I begin, when he takes a measured step toward me, his clean soapy smell messing with my ability to form a coherent sentence. My gaze drops, takes in his t-shirt, the way it clings to hewn muscles my hands suddenly want to touch.

End this now, Eliza. Before you do something stupid, like actually try to kiss him again, only to get laughed at.

He shoves one hand into the pocket of his khaki shorts, and I take pleasure in the way they ride lower on his hips. Brax in a suit is one thing, but this relaxed version…it’s totally messing with my ovaries. Truthfully, I don’t understand it. Braxton is rich, successful, gives to charities, and is, by far, the hottest guy I’ve ever set eyes on. He grew up in a loving family, with two parents, never having been abandoned by one—like Derek and me. He’s never been subjected to the pain behind divorce, or what it does to the kids. So why again is he single, leaving one girl for the next, with no hints of settling down in the foreseeable future? I mean, I get why I’m not interested in marriage. I watched my rich father get bored with his wife and two small kids, only to move on to the next pretty, young thing. It’s a pattern he still perpetuates—the pattern of the rich, I guess. Brax might not be married, but his rotating door is a sure sign he’s a carbon copy of my father.

“We should get going.” Brax says, pulling me back to the moment at hand.

“…use him in other ways while you have him there for the weekend.”

As Valerie’s words ping around in my brain, a bolt of lust curls through my blood. But what if I did seduce him and he laughed at me again? I could never, ever live through that humiliation again.

You’re not a chunky sixteen-year-old anymore, Eliza.

I bend down to pick up my purse, needing something to occupy my hands as I think about how to tell him the weekend is off, without coming across as crazy, after begging him to do this for me. When I stand and turn back to Braxton, I don’t miss the blast of heat sizzling in his eyes as they slide down my body. My pulse jumps in my throat. Would he look at me like that if he weren’t interested in a little bedroom fun? Then again, I am his best friend’s kid sister. Would that stop him?

No. No. No. Don’t go there, Eliza. He’s acting, and you need to end this now.

“I…my…”

“Your overnight bag?” he asks.

“Uh, it’s in my bedroom.”

He moves past me, his hard body brushing mine as he walks down the hall and disappears into my bedroom.

“What are you doing?” I ask and hurry after him.

“Getting your bag.”

“I’m quite capable of getting my own bag.” I plant my hands on my hips and follow him to the door of my room. I don’t dare go in. The less time I spend in a bedroom with him the better. I find him staring into the bag I had left open on my bed, and at the little bikini I’d tossed into it earlier.

He clears his throat. “Do you have everything you need?”

End this now!

I open my mouth to do just that, and instead find myself saying, “Yes.”

“Good.”

He’s about to zip up the bag up, but I say, “Wait.” I walk to my dresser, and pull out my sexy black negligee. I drop it into the bag, and Brax goes perfectly still, the air in the room charging, taking up space between us.

He thumbs the material. “Black lace,” he murmurs, his voice so low I have to strain to hear it.

“In case our ruse works, and Jason finally takes notice,” I say, a reminder to him—okay, to myself—that we’re not enjoying a lovers’ weekend away. This is about him helping me, nothing else, and I am going to kill my best friend for putting such crazy thoughts into my head. Brax doesn’t want me and I don’t want him. We don’t even freaking like each other.

His head lifts, and dark eyes meet mine. “Is that everything?” he asks through clenched teeth, his eyes a shade darker, piercing…almost angry.

“I think so.” He shoulders the bag, and I shake my head. “I can carry my own bag.”

“Yes, but you’re with me now, and things will be done differently.”

“Are you always this bossy with your dates?” I ask. He’s always had a bossy, controlling side to him. I’ve just never been subjected to it before. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. There was that time he tossed me over his shoulder and hauled my ass out of the party Valerie and I snuck off to. Everyone was drinking, things started to get rowdy and a fight broke out. He showed up out of nowhere, and removed both Valerie and me from a bad situation. I had no idea how he found out where we were, and we never talked about it again.

“Depends on the date.” He walks past me and I follow him out the door. I lock up and he’s standing on the passenger side of his Tesla when I reach the driveway. He opens the door for me, and I slide in.

“I had no idea you were such a gentleman,” I say.

“You’re my girlfriend, Eliza. There are a lot of things you’re going to find out about me this weekend.”

“Technically I’m not your girlfriend.”

“There will be no technicalities this weekend. It’s all in, or nothing. As soon as you agree to that, we’ll get going.”

He stands over me, hovering close, and my heart leaps. “You’re saying it’s your way or the highway?”

He bends, and his handsome face is close to mine. There isn’t an ounce of humor in his eyes when they lock on mine. “Yes.”

Nervousness bubbles up inside me, as I mull that over. “You mean when we have an audience, right? We go all in for the audience? But behind closed doors—”

“What will it be, Eliza?”

This is your chance to end it, Eliza. He’s giving you an out.

I should climb out of the car right now. I really should. So what the hell is stopping me? Could it be because I really want a chance with Jason? Or could it be something else entirely.

“Just so you know,” he begins, his voice softer. “I’d never put you in a situation or ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” I say. Is that why he thought I hesitated? “Actually, I never thought you would.”

His jaw unclenches, a new softness about him. “Then you trust me?”

I toy with the handle of my purse. Trust him? Yeah, I trust him. The question is, can I trust myself around him? “Yes,” I say. “To both your questions. It’s all in, or nothing and I trust you.”

“Good.”

He closes my door, and I shift restlessly in my seat as he climbs into the car. I try to settle myself as I pull up Google maps and give him directions. We drive mainly in silence, my thoughts going too fast to remain on any one topic. Half an hour later, we reach my boss’s beachside mansion.

“Nice place,” he says.

“Not as nice as yours,” I blurt out without thinking.

“You like my house, Eliza?”

I shrug and examine the cars in the lot, searching for Jason’s. “Sure.”

He taps his thumb on the steering wheel. “I was actually thinking about selling it.”

My head jerks around. “You’re kidding me.”

His brow furrows as he angles his head my way. “No, why?”

“It’s beautiful, with a great infinity pool, overlooking the bay. Why would you ever want to sell it?”

With his concentration back on the road, he slows the vehicle and puts on his signal light. “It’s kind of obnoxious, don’t you think?”

“Obnoxious?”

The muscles in his jaw bunch as I glance at him, but he turns his face from me. Not before I catch the embarrassment in his eyes. Others might not see it, but there are things this man can’t hide from me—never could.

“I think…it’s just…a house like that for one person. All those rooms and space. It’s kind of much.” I frown, hating that he feels guilty for his wealth. He shrugs one shoulder, and goes on to justify his decisions. “I bought it on a whim, you know. Interest rates were down, right time for an investment property.” He casts me a quick glance, and I hate how he cares so much about what others think.

“It’s a beautiful property and you deserve it,” I say.

A smile touches his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, and believe me, I know all about spontaneous decisions. Sometimes they aren’t always the best choice, but you never know. Maybe someday you’ll have a big family with lots of kids and fill all those rooms.” Without thinking, I slide my hand across the seats, close it over his and give a reassuring squeeze. But the second I do, his gaze lifts to mine—a gaze so hot and so intense it fires every nerve in my body.

Okeydokey…

I reach for the door handle, needing a reprieve from the storm inside my body. I’m about to flee when he leans into me. “Eliza,” he whispers, and I practically jump out of my shoes, when he captures my hand, and holds me in place.

“Yeah?” I ask, trying my best to pull off casual.

“Listen, Eliza. If you want to pull this off, you’re going to have to stop jumping every time I touch you. I get it, you don’t like me, but you’re going to have to pretend you do in front of co-workers.”

“I know,” I say, feeling far too breathless and ridiculous for my stupid body’s reactions to this man’s innocent touch.

He touches my hair, coils it around my finger, and I swear to God, the muscles between my legs clench.

“Take a deep breath,” he says softly. I do as he says, then let the air out slowly. When I glance back at him, he’s smiling. “Better?”

“Better,” I say.

“One more thing.” His hand slides to my neck, and his fingers clasp gently as he slowly caresses my flesh with his thumb.

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to have to kiss you.”

Holy shit!

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Brax.” Jesus, why do I have to sound like I just ran up eight flights of stairs.

The muscles in his jaw clench, and air gusts from his flaring nostrils. “Oh, I think it’s very necessary if you want us to look like lovers. We should at least have the kiss nailed, right?”

“Yeah, but…”

“When I sign on to do something, Eliza, whether I want to or not, I give it my full, one-hundred percent. Anything worth doing is worth doing right. I’m not going to make a fool of myself by doing this half-assed, and getting called out. I thought you would have known that about me by now.”

I do.

Cripes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brax so intense before. I get he’s trying to help me and this all part of the act, but holy hell, the man deserves an academy award.

“I…well, I suppose. If you—”

He leans into me and his mouth steals my words. My body ignites. My eyes slide shut but I quickly open them again. Forget all the angst between us in the past; I have to see Brax’s face as he kisses me. My chest rises and falls with shallow breaths and his clean soapy scent swirls around me. His fingers delve into my hair, tugging, controlling, confident in his touch as our mouths move, and tongues tangle.

He slides his tongue in farther, a slow exploration, testing, tasting, discovering with a deeper curiosity. A moan I have no control over catches in my throat, and his kisses deepen, expand, our tongues tangling as curiosity changes to a single-minded hunger that I’ve only ever read about.

This is what I’ve been missing?

He inches back, severs the intimate moment and not only am I breathless, I’m speechless—dying from need I never even knew existed, until this second…this man.

Oh this is so not good.

“Well?” he asks. “Do you think we’ll be able to pull it off?”

I take more breaths, praying my brain starts working and I can form a coherent sentence. “That was…” How do I put in to words that the man kisses like a freaking God? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was kissing me like he meant it? But of course, I do know better. Right?

“Awful?” he asks.

What? I was awful?

How mortifying!

I swallow down the pain and remind myself it shouldn’t matter that he thinks I’m an awful kisser. It’s Jason I want. Not him. I repeat that to myself until it sinks back in. “Yeah, awful.” I make a face like I’d just eaten a bucket of worms. “Horrible.”

“I think tonight, behind closed doors, we’re going to have to give that a whole lot more practice if we have any chance in hell of making this work.”

OMFG.

I am so in over my head here.