That Sunday, I was waiting outside my building when Travis pulled up in his SUV. As I clicked the seat belt into place, he handed me some papers. I took them and flipped through the pages.

Each one contained a different design with butterflies, rainbows, and dolphins. They were exactly what I had envisioned for the mural. “Where did you get these?”

“I drew them.”

“You draw?”

“Apparently.” He steered onto the street. “I can paint, too. At least I can paint murals. They aren’t all that hard.”

“You’ve painted murals?”

“Well, technically I’ve painted a mural. I did it for a friend of mine—for his daughter’s bedroom.”

Anyone else impressed?

Was I aware that he was an artist? Not at all. Not once in high school had I seen him draw or paint. But then it wasn’t like I had spent any time with him. All I knew about him back then was that he played hockey and was popular at school.

“What do you charge?” I asked.

“Are you asking if I’ll paint the mural at the youth center?”

I glanced back at the drawings. “In my convoluted way, yes—that’s exactly what I’m asking.” Before he could respond, I added, “These are great, by the way. I especially love the one with the butterflies flying across the sky, each trailing a different color behind them.” Together they created the rainbow that reached halfway across the page. Underneath it, two dolphins were jumping out of the ocean as if excited by the sight of the rainbow.

“I could be persuaded to do it.” His teasing tone was ripe with innuendo.

“And what exactly do I need to do to persuade you?” My body had a few suggestions of its own.

Nice try, body! Just because the heroes in romance novels knew how to make a woman’s toes curl during an orgasm, didn’t mean that mere mortal men had the same skill.

As most of the guys I’d been with had proven.

Naturally, the ache between my legs disagreed—pointing out that not all men were hopeless—and became that much more achy.

Hot date with Alejandro tonight? That sounded about right.

The ache pouted, wondering when it would ever get to experience a man’s touch again.

“I’m sure you can figure something out,” Travis said, his voice low, husky, and pure sensual male.

He really wasn’t playing fair.

“I’ve got enough money for the paint,” I said, “but what would something like this cost when it comes to your time?” From the looks of it, it would take quite a few hours or days to do it.

“I’ll do it for free. For the kids. But I need your help.”

“My help? Did you forget the part where I can’t draw?”

“You don’t need to draw. I’ll do that. You can paint between the lines, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. And I’ve got a place that can host the fundraiser.”

“You do? Where?”

“The Unicorn.”

The pub in my building. It had a stage where bands played several nights a week. “How did you swing that?”

“I have my ways, but I’d have to kill you if I told you.” He smiled what had to be the sexiest smirk on the planet. I had no doubt whatsoever that he used it often to get into women’s beds. Too bad he couldn’t use it for a greater good…like solving world hunger or creating everlasting peace.

“So this is really happening?”

“Yes, it’s really happening.”

Now it was my turn to smirk. “I could kiss you for that.”

He chuckled. “I’m all for that. But how about we save it for my grandmother’s benefit?”

My heart rate picked up at his suggestion. I had no idea why. “I have to kiss you in front of your grandmother?” That squeaky voice? Completely your imagination.

“Yep, in front of Granny. But to be convincing, we have to make it look like we sneaked off somewhere to kiss and got caught.”

A laugh burst from between my lips. “Put a lot of thought into this, did you? Or have you had that many fake girlfriends that you speak from experience?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No, you’re definitely the first. I’m a virgin at this.”

“That makes two of us.” And because that didn’t quite sound the way it had in my head, I hastily added, “I mean at being a fake girlfriend.”

The voice in my head barked a laugh. No, I hadn’t sounded ridiculous at all, especially since it didn’t matter whether I was a virgin when it came to sex. He and I weren’t going there.

I ignored the booing from my girlie parts.

Forty minutes later, Travis parked his car in the visitors’ parking lot of a low-rise apartment building.

“This is where Fanny lives?” The golden stucco, Mediterranean-style balconies, and well cared for garden all gave the place a welcoming feel.

“Yes, her and the other two troublemakers.”

“Troublemakers?”

“Her two friends who you’ve already met. Hazel and Abigail” He glanced up at the building, a slight frown on his face.

I snickered. Yeah, I could almost see them being labeled as troublemakers. But if I had a grandmother, those three were exactly what I’d wish for her to be like.

“I swear they’re convinced that they’re twentysomething college students,” Travis said. “In fact, I’d hate to see what they’d be like if they were.” He faked a considerable shudder and I laughed.

We exited the car and headed toward the building. Travis reached for my hand. My sweaty hand. How nice!

“Can your grandmother see us out here?” I asked—because that was the only explanation I had for why Travis would want to hold my hand.

“No—but her eyes can. Their apartment is on this side of the building.”

I laughed again. “Ah, she has spies.”

“Pretty much.”

From the way Fanny was beaming at us when she opened her door a few minutes later, it was clear her underground spy network had alerted her to our arrival.

“I’m so excited to see you again, Emma,” she said, waving us in. “When Travis told me you two were dating, I couldn’t have been happier.” She winked at me.

Yeah—I had no idea what that was about either.

I found out a moment later when she added, “That fountain of yours clearly is magical.”

Right. Her wish. The one where she had asked for Travis to hurry up and get married and give her great-grandkids before she died.

I smiled at her while feeling about two inches tall, then glanced at Travis to see if he felt as guilty about his lie as I did. My gaze met his confused one. Well, at least he had no idea about her wish—not that he believed in the fountain’s magical powers.

“Travis,” she said, “why don’t you show Emma the view from the balcony?”

“Okay,” he replied and started walking down the short hallway. I followed after him, stealing quick glances at the photos covering the walls.

“Are you in any of those?” I pointed at them as we strolled past.

“A few. Mostly when I was a kid.”

I stopped abruptly. “Show me.”

Fanny didn’t give him a chance to respond and pointed out some of his photos. “…and there he is when he was five years old,” she said. Behind me, Travis groaned.

Five-year-old Travis was standing on the beach, searching for something in the sand. The wind was blowing his brown hair about, and grains of sand peppered his skin.

“Ohmigod, you’re adorable.”

“All right, enough of the family photos,” he said, nudging me forward. “Time for me to show you the view.”

Grinning at his obvious embarrassment, I entered the living room.

It was small and filled with an eclectic mix of modern furniture and antiques. The brown leather sofa and recliner were facing the large-screen TV. Everything else—the side cabinets with glass covered bookcases, the coffee table, the end table—was a combination of dark rustic wood, lacy doilies, and decorative plates with hand-painted landscapes and cities on them.

Travis opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony with me trailing behind him. The fresh ocean breeze kissed my face as I appreciated the spectacular view.

“Wow,” was all I could say. I hadn’t paid much attention when Travis had driven us here, so I didn’t realize until now how close we were to the ocean. It stretched out on the horizon, with houses and trees partly blocking the view. But even then, you could still see the water glimmering from the low angle of the sun.

I placed my hands on the metal railing. Without looking, I could feel Travis close behind me. He wrapped his arms around me in a loose yet intimate embrace.

There was a slight chance my body might have melted against him. All for Fanny’s benefit—or so I told myself.

“Impressed, huh?” he murmured in my ear.

Heat rushed to my core, getting the situation all wrong. My body and I really needed to have a heart-to-heart.

“Very impressed,” I whispered.

Travis brushed my hair aside, exposing my neck, and traced his lips along my skin. The stubble on his jaw caressed me and I sucked in a soft breath.

His mouth moved to my earlobe and he nibbled the shell of my ear.

That moan, “Oh, God”? It might have been me.

Purely on instinct, I turned around in his arms. Before I could say anything, his mouth caught mine in a kiss.

And not just any kiss. He tugged on my lower lip with his teeth, teasing me. How could I not open up? Then the next thing I knew, our tongues were getting acquainted.

As they slid together, exploring, dancing, my hands moved to Travis’s hair. I knotted my fingers in his soft strands and a desperate moan slipped from my lips.

I couldn’t remember a kiss being this heart-stoppingly delicious—and I was just his fake girlfriend. What would it be like if we were really dating?

I was afraid to ask.

Travis’s hand moved to my lower back and he pressed me closer. The movement caused my head to tilt back, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

We kept kissing…until the loud noise of a seagull’s shriek jerked me back to the present. Startled, I pulled away, slightly dazed from the kiss, and stared at Travis.

“Wow,” I said, echoing my earlier sentiment.

The corner of his mouth slid up to one side. “Impressed, huh?”

I blinked myself out of my Travis-induced trance. “Not at all.”

Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “I think you’re lying.”

“And I think someone has an overinflated ego. You might want to get a doctor to check it out.”

Travis laughed. “Something tells me I’ll live.”

A movement from the balcony door caught my attention, and I turned in time to see Fanny moving away, trying to be inconspicuous.

“You think she bought the kiss?” I asked, keeping my voice low so she couldn’t hear me. If she hadn’t believed that the kiss was genuine, I was royally screwed—especially since I couldn’t be any more convincing than that.

Even my body was fooled.

Except now it craved more—a helluva lot more.

“There’s one way to find out.” He grabbed my hand and led me back into the living room. Fanny was busy pretending to set the dinner table, which looked exactly the same as when we had first entered the room.

“You have a lovely view,” I said.

The grin on her face from earlier? That had nothing on this one. “Yes, it’s a very lovely view.”

Why did I have a feeling we weren’t talking about the same view?

“Dinner is ready. Emma, why don’t you sit there.” She pointed at a chair. “Travis can sit in his usual spot.”

Travis pulled my chair out for me and I sat. He took the one next to mine.

“Would you like red wine?” Fanny asked me.

“That would be nice, thank you.”

But instead of Fanny pouring the wine, Travis did the deed. He left Fanny’s glass empty while giving her a long look. Fanny let out a suffering sigh that was more on the humorous side of things.

“How is it that you two started dating?” she asked us after she’d finished serving us the meat loaf, roasted potatoes, and vegetables.

And pickles. Apparently Fanny really liked pickles.

I flashed Travis a devious grin, wrapped up neatly with a bow. “Why don’t you tell her, sweetheart? You always tell the story best.”

Yes, I might have thrown him under a bus, but it was so worth it. Neither of us had thought to come up with a story about how we started dating.

“Not a problem, pumpkin.” He gave a strand of my hair a slight tug. That smirk? No, it wasn’t sexy. It was even more devious than the smile I had just given him. And for the record, my hair wasn’t pumpkin orange. It was more like a bright auburn.

He turned back to Fanny. “After we spent the third day driving around the city, looking at possible new locations for the store, Emma invited me out for a drink. Well, turns out she can’t hold her alcohol very well. She’d had only one drink, but when I returned from the bathroom, I found her on the table, declaring to the pub why she liked me.”

I took a sip of wine.

“Apparently, she really likes my ass.”

The wine went the wrong way and I began coughing.

“Are you okay, pumpkin?” Travis asked, his smile even more devious than before.

I nodded, still coughing. “Sorry. The wine went the wrong way,” I managed to say weakly before grabbing my glass of water.

“You know who has a really nice backside?” Fanny asked, not fazed at all by what Travis had told her. “That Chris Hemsworth boy.” She said it so matter-of-factly, you would’ve thought she and her friends discussed the topic on a regular basis.

“Ryan Gosling isn’t too bad either,” she added, and Travis groaned.

Flashing him an amused grin, I slipped in my vote. “While I have to agree with you on both choices, Ryan Reynolds’s as—butt is mighty fine, too.” And then, because I couldn’t resist it, I patted Travis’s cheek. “But not as fine as yours, sweetheart.”

Truth? I did like his ass—more than I should. Second truth? It was hotter than the asses of the other three men combined.

But I wasn’t about to admit that to Travis.

“Anyway,” he said, clearly pretending the current conversation wasn’t happening, “after Emma’s declaration to the entire pub, how could I not ask her out? And the rest, as they say, is history. She and I are now dating exclusively.”

Did it sound like he almost choked on those last two words? That alone made the charade all the more fun.

“Well, I think this deserves a toast.” Fanny picked up her water and waited for us to pick up ours. “To the happy couple. May your days and nights together be blissful and plenty.”

My girlie parts sang out, “Here, here,” in chorus. Traitors.

And then Fanny added, “Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.”

Yeah—I had no idea what she was talking about, either. It just came out of nowhere. Travis gave her a that’s-nice smile and went back to eating as though she hadn’t said anything—which was pretty much what Fanny did, too.

The rest of the dinner went well. Fanny was funny and highly entertaining. Or maybe the way she constantly embarrassed Travis was highly entertaining. She also said a few more random phrases like, “Choose kindness and laugh often,” and “I’m not what has happened to me. I am what I choose to become.” Apparently the last one was from Carl Jung. Unlike the other ones, that quote hit close to home.

The only thing that wasn’t entertaining was the level of guilt clogging my insides like day-old constipation. The more I got to know Fanny, the worse I felt about Travis’s and my deception.

Was the guilt enough for me to tell her the truth? Hell, no. I couldn’t afford to lose my store. It meant everything to me. Plus, she was happy. That was what Travis wanted. That was what I wanted. For Fanny to be happy.

Was it too late to become Catholic, go to confession, and say a hundred Hail Marys (or whatever it was that Catholics said after they’d sinned)?

Okay—how about I call that Plan B?

On the way back to my apartment, Travis and I discussed the mural some more.

“I’ll talk to Amelia tomorrow and finalize the details,” I said.

We had already discussed how we needed to use two coats of blue paint on the wall, to represent the sky. That would be our first project.

“So, why does your grandmother say all those random comments? You know, the positive affirmation ones?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. She started doing it a few years ago. She likes to write them in a notebook every time she sees one. Abigail gave her positive affirmation toilet paper for Christmas one year. After that, Granny kept saying them out loud. But because the sayings never fit what she was talking about, she got into the habit of blurting them just because she could.”

I barked a laugh. “That is the funniest and most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

Travis pulled up in front of my building.

“Thanks for offering to help me with the mural,” I said, and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. But at the last second, he turned his head and my lips—the heat seeking missiles that they were—landed on his mouth.

And apparently that wasn’t enough for them. They parted and my tongue welcomed Travis’s. A hunger for him consumed me and I deepened the kiss. The ache between my legs begged me to straddle his hips and rub it against his length. It ignored the part about the steering wheel being in the way.

I reminded it of our hot date with Alejandro.

All right—maybe I was crazy thinking that would be enough to appease it.

Silly me.

I pulled slightly back, breath ragged.

“You’re welcome,” he said. The amusement in his tone? I had a feeling he was talking about the kiss and not why I had really been thanking him.

I quickly escaped his car and didn’t even give him a second glance as I headed to the building. But while I might have been acting nonchalant about the kiss in the car and the one back at Fanny’s apartment, the thoughts powering through my brain were the furthest from nonchalant as you could get.

Somehow I managed not to stumble as I walked up the pathway to the entrance.

Once inside the building, I hightailed it up the stairs to the third floor and entered my apartment.

“Hi, I’m home,” I called out to the emptiness.

I really needed to get a pet. Like a fish. Or a snail.

I made a beeline to my bedroom.

The plan? Happy time with Alejandro.

But the ache between my legs wouldn’t cooperate and gave me the silent treatment—as in no orgasms for me. They didn’t even materialize when I thought back to when Travis kissed me on the balcony. That alone should have been enough—but the mutinous ache refused to budge even an inch.

Eventually giving up, I returned a dejected Alejandro to my bedside drawer.

Now what was I supposed to do?

I ignored the whispered suggestions about Travis the ache threw my way.