Oh how he loved sundress season. Lindsay had come by wearing a black and white striped sundress that clung to her hourglass figure in the most distracting way possible, and Malik had a helluva time concentrating on the topic at hand.

“But you don’t know what’s in it for you.”

“You told me. Not a damn thing.” What a waste of time. He was going to strangle Stephan.

“That’s not true! I’ll talk to Nina. I’ll do what I can about the tree sculpture, but I can’t make you any promises.”

“Exactly. Meanwhile, you want me to run around town pretending to be engaged to you? No thank you.”

“You don’t have to run around town. You only have to take a few pictures with me.”

“Not interested.”

Pretending to be Lindsay Winthrop’s fiancé—with her sexy ass—was not the way to sell his work. There was no guarantee talking to her sister would even help, and he needed the money from the sale of the tree sculpture, fast. He was almost out of cash, and more than anything, he wanted to start paying back the money his uncle had loaned him to get started in his craft.

“How about I sweeten the deal,” Lindsay said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

She caught his attention. Why would Lindsay, of all people, need a fake fiancé?

Beautiful women could be found anywhere, and in a city like Atlanta, a night out at the club, a lounge, or any restaurant in town meant a bevy of beauties were always on display. Yet among all these women, Lindsay stood out. She was show-stopping pretty with bee-stung lips and sultry, hazel eyes. At one time he’d thought her long lashes were fake, but they were completely natural.

She was also tall, wearing heels that added another three inches to her five-foot-nine height. Her height was the first thing he’d noticed about her when they met a few years ago. Despite being model-tall, she wasn’t model-thin. She had meat on her bones. Her thick thighs were obvious in the form-hugging dress, as was her fleshy ass and his favorite part of a woman’s anatomy—large breasts.

Her straight hair was cut super short and highlighted the beauty of her round face, dyed an eye-catching golden blonde today, but he’d seen the color range from jet black to platinum blonde over the years, as if she couldn’t settle on a color. Or maybe she didn’t want to.

“Sweeten the deal how?” Malik asked.

“I could pay you.”

She was definitely desperate. This photo shoot was way more important to her than she originally let on.

“So the relationship expert doesn’t have a man?” Malik didn’t ask the question to be malicious. He was genuinely perplexed why someone who looked like her and gave advice needed to pay someone to pretend to be her fiancé.

Faint color surfaced under her reddish-brown skin, which reminded him of terra cotta tile. “This may come as a surprise to you, but not every woman needs a man. I’m perfectly satisfied by myself and wouldn’t bother with this ridiculous ruse if it weren’t for my publicist and the publishing company making a gross mistake about my relationship status. So let me worry about that, okay? Do you have a girlfriend I should be concerned about?”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“Humor me.”

“No.”

To honor his dead mother, he’d promised himself he would concentrate on his craft. At the thought of Bessie Jones, his chest constricted as if someone had tightened a band around his torso. Thirteen years and her death still caused him so much pain. He rubbed the area where the ache resided.

To keep his mind right, he stopped chasing women and ended up refraining from sex completely. He hadn’t set out to be celibate, but being celibate meant his head was clearer, and being disciplined meant he got more work done. After years of wasting time and being unfocused, he fell into a routine of abstinence, and before he knew it, three years had gone by and he owned a large collection of pieces. Except for the occasional urge, which he handled himself, literally, he no longer craved sexual contact the way he used to.

“A secret wife?” Lindsay asked.

“No,” Malik said dryly.

“Good. Then there’s no reason we can’t move forward. Like I said, I’m willing to pay you—a reasonable sum, of course—for your time.”

“I’m listening.”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars. What do you say?”

Malik thought about the warning on the water bill and the monthly payments he’d only recently negotiated with the power company. Two hundred and fifty dollars would hardly put a dent in his expenses. If only that tree sculpture sale hadn’t fallen through.

“Five hundred,” he countered.

Her mouth fell open. “Five hundred dollars? You’ll only be there for one damn hour. That’s not reasonable.”

Malik shrugged dismissively. “You’re the one who asked me to help. Not the other way around.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead, sighed, and then threw back her shoulders like someone preparing for battle. “Five hundred it is.”

He should have asked for more, but it was probably best that he quit while ahead. He knew Lindsay’s type. Sweet as sugar, sexy as hell, but with a hair-trigger temper that meant she could snap at any minute. Women like her excited the hell out of him.

The night he and Lindsay met at Stephan’s, she pressed her soft body against his and made an offer he’d found almost impossible to resist. You’re so damn hot. Let’s fuck. She’d whispered the words in his ear and he’d felt them all the way to his groin.

Lindsay had an amazing voice—low and husky, like someone getting over a bout of laryngitis. Perfect for radio. He could listen to her read the ingredients on a box of cereal. Ever since that day, he couldn’t help but wonder how husky her voice would get when she was pinned beneath him, begging for more.

But he’d turned her down. Not because he had any real willpower, but because he’d recognized she wasn’t in her right mind when she made the offer.

“Malik?” She dragged him back into the conversation, staring at him expectantly. “Do we have a deal?”

“Where will these photos end up?”

“They’re for promotional purposes only. They might end up in a magazine or two, but that’s it.”

He didn’t know if she was telling the truth, but he needed the money.

“We have a deal,” he said, against his better judgment.

“Excellent!” She slapped her palms together, lips stretching into a broad grin that transformed her face into a bright expression of excitement.

The expression gut-punched him, leaving him momentarily without breath and staring. Meanwhile, she twirled—that was the only way to describe the movement—in the direction of all the sculptures.

“I’m going to take some pictures of the tree sculpture.” She tossed a look at him over her shoulder. “You should really get online, but I’ll let you worry about that. Do you go by a pseudonym, or…?”

“Malik. That’s it.”

“Malik. I like it.” She shifted her gaze back to the artwork and started snapping pictures.

If Lindsay could get him in touch with the right person, he’d be one step closer to living his dream of being a self-employed artist. He’d sold a few small pieces before but hadn’t made much money. He needed to pay his bills, pay back the loan his uncle gave him to start his business and fix up the house—which had been deemed uninhabitable when he inherited it—and put away some money for a rainy day.

Tilting his head, he licked his lips as she snapped photos, droning on about how she’d take care of buying the engagement ring, but he half listened. He was too busy assessing the curve of her waist and the bow-shaped hips his hands had traced the night of Stephan’s party. Damn, she was fine.

As an introvert, he’d needed time alone away from the din and partying to recharge, but Lindsay had found him crashing in one of the upstairs bedrooms and climbed on top of him. He couldn’t forget how her soft body had felt in his arms or how close he’d come to giving in right when he’d decided to take a break from dating. If anyone could make him relapse, Lindsay could.

Malik shook his head and shifted his stance to alleviate the heaviness in his groin area. One hour. That’s it. Quick and easy. Done and done.

Except a knot of unease settled in his stomach, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into.