Torn

I can’t believe I’ve fallen into this role so easily. I shouldn’t want to. I shouldn’t do it at all. I’m not his girlfriend and he’s not my boyfriend. We’re not even in a real relationship.

We’re at one of the most expensive and revered restaurants in Napa Valley. Gage and Archer have exquisite taste, I’ll give them that. The place is overflowing with beautiful people, all of them dressed to perfection. I can’t see anything but a sea of suits and finely cut dresses. They all look like they just came out of work.

I look like I’m ready to hang out for the night and go clubbin’. Or worse, I have the freshly f**ked look, according to Gage. Can everyone see we just had wild and crazy sex in his car?

God, I hope not.

My fingers tremble, and I feel him squeeze my hand. He comes to a stop, turning to look at me, his face etched with concern. “You okay?”

I shouldn’t let it touch me that he’s being so sweet. But it does. I want to melt at the concern I see reflected in his eyes. “A little nervous,” I admit.

“Archer won’t bite. You’re going to be fine.” He kisses me on the lips, right there in the middle of the freaking restaurant, and I want to both disappear and scream with glee that this man . . . this very fine man standing right here, is mine.

But he’s not. Not really. We’re . . . huh. I don’t know what we’re doing. He wants my family’s property. He’d probably fall to my feet in gratitude if I introduced him to my father, which I so don’t want to do. Helping him get that much closer to what he wants would be idiotic on my part. It would be the end of the bakery.

Besides, I want an opportunity to grow my business. Instead of pushing him away, I’m selfishly spending time with him. And we’re gaining something from each other while we have wild passionate sex on the side. A totally unexpected bonus in this bargain we made.

It’s so strange, so unlike anything I’ve ever done before. There is no definition for what I’m experiencing with Gage.

I just need to approach it day by day.

“What about Archer’s fiancé?” I ignore the pointed stare the hostess is shooting us when she discovers we’re not following behind her any longer. Just how big is this stupid restaurant?

“Yeah. Uh. She’s great.” He smiles and fidgets, releasing my hand so he can run his through his tousled dark hair. “I have a confession to make.”

Dread fills my stomach. “What is it?”

“Sir? Miss? Your table is this way,” the hostess calls, her voice full of hostility that we’re not obeying her command.

We ignore her. “Tell me,” I say when he still hasn’t answered.

Shrugging, he reaches out, trails his index finger down my cheek. “She’s my sister.”

I frown. “Who? Do you mean Archer’s fiancé?”

“Yeah.” He winces. “My best friend is marrying my baby sister.”

“Oh.” I’m sort of offended that he didn’t tell me from the first. Why keep it such a secret? I don’t get it.

Sometimes, I really don’t get him.

“Mister Emerson!” The hostess is practically shouting at us. “Please, follow me!”

We hurry after her, my mind awhirl after his confession. She leads us to the very back of the restaurant, where the private dining rooms are, and I blow out a slow, cleansing breath, trying to calm my agitated nerves.

I thought hav**g s*x with Gage in his car would take the edge off, but no, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I feel edgier, more amped up than ever. He’s not helping matters with how sweet he’s being. You’d think I’d like his attitude and want more of it, after all the fighting and the arguing between us.

But I need the distance. I need to focus and think about what exactly I want to say to Archer. Now that I know he’s with Gage’s sister, that Archer is Gage’s best friend, it puts a new spin on their relationship. Puts a new spin on the entire dynamic that’s about to happen once we sit down with them. I knew he and Archer were good friends, but I guess I didn’t realize they were best friends. They’re practically family.

“Here you go.” The hostess stops at an open door that leads to a small dining room, the interior done in cool greens and blues. Gage lets me walk in first, and I spot them sitting at the table. I smile nervously at Archer and his fiancé. Gage’s freaking sister.

God help me, I hope I don’t make a fool of myself in front of her. I want her to like me.

It doesn’t matter if she likes you or not. You’re not looking for a relationship with Gage. You’re having dirty, awesome sex with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

I really wish I could believe that.

Plus, I need to focus on what I really want out of this dinner. A chance to gain exposure for the bakery and my aunt’s desserts by having them featured at his hotel. That’s what matters tonight.

Gage rests his hand at the small of my back, his simple touch making my heart hammer. I watch helplessly as Archer stands and approaches us, a warm smile on his handsome face as he stops in front of me. He’s wearing a suit, just like everyone else in this restaurant save for me and Gage, and he’s intimidating despite the friendly expression.

“Marina, it’s wonderful to see you.” Leaning in, he presses the requisite society kiss to my cheek. “You’re looking ravishing tonight.”

Oh. God. I want to die. He is so close to the truth it’s embarrassing. Does he know Gage ravished me? Can he tell? Am I wearing a flashing sign on my forehead that screams freshly f**ked?

Gage’s low chuckle doesn’t help matters either. If he doesn’t watch it, he’s going to end up with an elbow in the ribs.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice shaky, and I clear my throat. “So glad you’re able to have dinner tonight with us, Archer. I know it was last minute.”

“Anything for Gage.” He flashes him a quick, smug smile. “I may think he’s a complete a**hole, but considering he’s going to be my brother-in-law in less than a year, I guess I need to start thinking of him as part of my family.”

“Oh, stop being so rude.” His fiancé approaches us as well, her expression open. Friendly. Curious. “I’m Ivy. Gage’s sister. You must be Marina.” She extends her hand toward me.

“Nice to meet you,” I offer weakly, overwhelmed as she takes my hand and shakes it. I don’t want to screw this up, and I’m going to if I don’t watch it. I can barely keep my crap together as I stand before these two people.

I need to chill out.

Ivy’s wearing a red wrap-style dress, looking effortless and elegant, and again I feel like an idiot in my jeans. I blame working at the bakery for my lack of dressy clothes. I have them, I just don’t bother wearing them much anymore. I’m always in jeans.

Though Gage doesn’t seem to mind me in jeans . . .

We all sit at the table, Archer and Ivy resuming the spots they occupied and Gage and I sitting across from them. The table is small, the setting intimate, and I keep my gaze on the place setting in front of me, trying to calm my racing heart.

Gage settles his hand on my back, reaching up to tickle at the sensitive skin of my nape. I jerk my gaze toward him, giving him a look I hope he can interpret: one that says stop touching me.

He doesn’t seem to get it. Clueless bastard. Instead he’s smiling at me, as if he enjoys my slight discomfort, and I grimace at him, my breath catching in my throat when he laughs at me.

“Why are you so worked up?” he asks after the waiter sweeps out of the room with our drink orders. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not upset.” I glance toward Archer and Ivy, who are arguing over what to order for dinner. God, they’re cute. “I feel woefully underdressed compared to everyone else in this stupid restaurant.”

His smile turns wicked as he leans in closer, his voice lowering. “Baby, when we were in my car just a few minutes ago? Now that was woefully underdressed.”

His words set my cheeks on fire, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “One minute you’re the sexiest, most nak*d thing I’ve ever seen, and now you’re blushing like a sweet schoolgirl.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘most nak*d,’ Gage,” I say irritably, earning a bigger grin for my effort. “You’re either nak*d or you’re not.”

“Well. You were very nak*d.” He kisses my cheek. Again. It’s like he can’t stop touching me, not that I’m protesting. “And right now? You look amazing.”

I feel my cheeks heat further, which is silly. Three simple words and my heart is hammering. He touches my elbow, my back, tucks my hair behind my ear, and I want him to touch me more. I think he sees it too. His knowing smile—which I should find completely annoying—instead sends a shivery little thrill down my spine.

“You don’t think I should be wearing a dress?” Why am I acting like a simpering, self-conscious girlfriend? I need to stop.

His gaze roves over me, taking me all in, and my skin heats as if he’s physically touched me. “I think you look perfect,” he says when his eyes finally meet mine, dark and serious and so intense I can hardly look away.

Oh. My. What is happening between us? I don’t . . . don’t know what comes over me when I’m with him. He’s acting like he’s truly interested in me and I . . . just don’t think that’s possible. Sexually, we’re compatible. But two people can be in a sexual relationship that doesn’t go beyond that point, right? Not that I’ve ever experienced anything like that, but I know people do it all the time.

So why is he looking at me like that? Saying such deliciously wonderful things to me? What in the world are we doing? This is supposed to be temporary between us.

Yet it already feels all too real. It shouldn’t though. Not at all.

Someone clears their throat, and I tear my gaze away from Gage to find Archer studying us, his expression full of amusement. Ivy’s studying us as well, her delicate brow furrowed in confusion.

I can’t blame her. I’m confused too.

“So Marina, I hear you’ve been spending time with Gage,” Archer says, one brow lifting.

I want to squirm in my seat. Are Gage and I that obvious? Of course we are. We’re hanging all over each other like we’re together. He can’t keep his hands off me. We just had sex in his car on the side of the road, for the love of God. The pheromones or whatever between us are probably off the charts.

And if they’re best friends like Gage said, then surely Archer must know all about Gage’s romantic past. Maybe I’m not Gage’s normal type, and he’s confused as well?

“Have you met Ivy before?” Archer asks me before he studies his fiancé with unabashed love in his eyes.

He knows the answer to this question. Is Archer trying to make this evening more awkward? What should I say?

Oh hey, Ivy. I know we haven’t met and all but I’ve known your brother for a few days and we’re having the wildest sex of my life. How do you do?