Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (6 page)

“Trust me,” he said, between grabs for air.

She tried to relax, to ease into his touch, as he drove inside her again and again. Numb discomfort gave way to a new flash of sensation, and sparks danced behind her eyes as he hit the right spot. She slammed into climax, head growing light, everything except the physical fading into the background.

She was intently aware of his cock inside her. The way she clenched around it. The sheen of sweat covering her, cooled by the air. The taste of his kisses, when he crushed his mouth to hers. His grunts as his motions became more punctuated. The jerk of his body when he came, still moving inside her. All of it mingled, as her orgasm hit a peak and then ebbed.

Slowly, her world came back into focus, sharpness muting, to blend with what had fuzzed. He slid out of her, then shifted to lie on his back beside her on the bed and tugged her into him, and she rested her head on his shoulder without resistance.

She wasn’t sure how long they lay there, catching their breath and letting the world tick by. The salt of sweat tingled on her lips. He’d said she could trust him, but that never lasted. It was nice to pretend, though. Would be nice if it continued outside the bedroom. There weren’t a lot of people in her life she could say she trusted, and with stunts like the one George pulled, the list grew smaller every day.

Her brother’s name summoned a new thought. Not a welcome one, in a moment like this, but the edge was gone in the lingering haze of pleasure.

Gwen propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at Brad. She was going to do this before she lost her nerve. “Do you want to get engaged?”

“Did you just propose to me?” He brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead, while he studied her face.

“I supposed that’s what we could tell people.” She worried the inside of her lip with her teeth, doubt sinking in. “I mean, not for real, of course. But you need to prove your life is stable, and I need to prove I’m not planning on dying an old spinster.” The way he furrowed his brow wiped away the last of her bravado. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m saying. Post-coital bliss or something.”

His smile returned, though not full force. “I don’t think I’ve ever fucked a woman so hard she wanted to marry me.”

“You
don’t think
, but you might have? Besides, I said
engaged
.” Gwen tried to keep her tone light. What was she thinking? Bad,
bad
idea. Straight-out-of-a-stupid-movie kind of bad.

“No, I’m certain that’s never happened before. Yeah, all right. Let’s do it.”

“Wow. That sounded less than enthusiastic.” Though she’d dismissed the idea, and it wouldn’t be more than for show anyway, his reluctance dug deep. She rolled onto her back. “It’s no big deal, really.” And it wasn’t. Whatever ached inside, gnawing at her sensibility, needed to knock it off.

There were so many reasons for Brad to tell her no. On the other hand, the idea was brilliant in theory. He had to say so, since he’d started the whole thing when he told Emily they were engaged. But Gwen was real. She didn’t wear a mask for the cameras or pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Or put on a facade for years, in a marriage that made her miserable, the way Emily had.

If he and Gwen went ahead with this plan, at least part of whatever was between them became as fake as the rest of his life.

He also couldn’t ignore how wounded she looked. They’d both know it was pretend—no lies between them—and the benefits would be for them both. He let himself relax, sat, and pulled her up. He traced a finger along her bottom lip, and she let out a gasp. Hearing more of these tiny sounds, seeing her turned on, would be pretty pleasant too.

He took her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “Gwen Marie Debson, my life has been non-stop chaos since you walked into it, and I don’t want to imagine how boring going back to normal will be. You’re amazing in the sack, and—God—you look hot naked. Will you fake marry me?”

Her smile was back, hesitant but there. “You say the sweetest things.”

“Is that a
yes
?”

“Yes. I’d love to.”

It still didn’t feel right, but at least she was in on the deception. A new thought flashed into his mind, and he frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Her expression mirrored his.

“I can’t do this to Drea. Don’t misunderstand, I think the two of you would hit it off, but I can’t let you into her life, let her get close, knowing you’ll be gone at some point.”

Gwen tapped her fingers against her leg. “So we don’t get close. I assume someone will tell her, but that doesn’t mean she has to spend time with me. There’s always a convenient excuse, right? Not that I want to coerce you into this.
No
is fine too.”

That would have to do. Keeping her apart from Drea made sense. “I’m still asking if you’re still accepting. We’ll just have to be careful.”

“Of course. Perfectly careful. When are we comfortable telling people?” Her smile was too big. Too bright.

“No time like the present, right? We’re happy and in love.” One lie on top of another. He didn’t like it, but it was a means to an end.

****

Jaycie slid into her seat at the counter. Today she was laptop- and handheld-free. Unusual, but it meant she had a lull in games. Or she was working on how to write up one she’d recently played. “What’s new?” she asked.

Gwen’s response died in her throat. This was her chance to put her plan into motion. To tell someone and celebrate and let the world know she wasn’t a bitter old hag who hated men and marriage. Except with the opportunity in front of her, she struggled to find the words.

Jaycie raised her brows. “That good, huh? Did the one-night-stand bozo come back with another
business proposal
?”

Yeah, this was about to suck. Gwen gave a nervous laugh. “Funny you should mention him…”

“Ooh.” Jaycie leaned in, resting her forearms on the counter. “Is this exclusive, pre-blog gossip?”

Another thing Gwen needed to remember. She’d actually written and scheduled that bitter post the other night, about how bad things went with Brad. His name wasn’t on it, but other things like using her as a fiancée to look good in front of his ex, were. She needed to pull it down before it went live. “Not quite. I mean, yes, it’ll go on the blog, and it’ll be amazing.” She didn’t believe herself. “But it’s not
that
kind of news. We’re engaged.”

Jaycie’s jaw dropped, and it took several seconds for her to snap it shut again. “You’re what-to-who-now?” She laughed. “I get it. You’re yanking my chain. Holy crap, you almost had me. What’s got you in such a playful mood?”

“I’m not kidding.” Gwen focused on not fidgeting or doing anything but standing there, pleasant smile in place, trying to look like she was the luckiest woman alive. “He proposed, I accepted.”

Jaycie studied her, gaze searching Gwen’s face. Then she shook her head. “No, really. Oh, shit. You’re not. There are other ways to win against your brother.”

“I’m really that transparent, aren’t I?”

“Only to anyone who knows you. George stopped paying attention years ago, so you might pull this off. As long as you lose the whole attending-your-own-funeral look when you tell him the
fantastic
news.” Jaycie sighed. “Don’t do this. We both know trying to gloss over a problem like this, pretending there’s any solution other than a direct one, isn’t the way to go.”

“Too late.” And it was. Even though everything Jaycie said made sense and echoed the thoughts Gwen tried to ignore, she and Brad had already started down this path. “Besides, it won’t be for long, and we’re both walking into it eyes wide open.”

“I’m going to cut out all the hemming and hawing and straight-up ask you, is there any way I can talk you out of this?”

“Please don’t.” Gwen was surprised at the pleading in her own voice. “I don’t want to be stuck in court for the next ten years, fighting over something that’s rightfully mine. This way, it ends quickly and neatly. Once the judge signs the arbitration in my favor, it’s over.”

“Did he at least apologize for being a manipulative ass?”

Heat rushed to Gwen’s cheeks, carried on memories of the night before. “Without question.”

Jaycie’s smile looked as phony as this entire arrangement. “In that case, congratulations. I get to be the maid of honor, don’t I?
And you’re not sticking me in a tacky dress?”

“Always and never. Thank you.” The simple words didn’t seem like enough given what Jaycie was playing along with, but they’d do for now.

“We’re going out to celebrate, right?” Jaycie asked. “We get to meet the love of your life, make sure he knows I had you first?”

“You’re going to tell Ethan, aren’t you?” How many people would find out this thing was fake, before someone believed it was real?

“Yeah. But don’t worry; he’ll be as happy to play along as I am.”

“You’re not reassuring me.”

Jaycie’s expression shifted into something more genuine and sympathetic. “We’re both here for you.”

“You want lunch before things get too busy?” Anxiety still twitched through Gwen, but knowing Jaycie was on board made a huge difference.

“Duh?”

Gwen relaxed further. That was back to normal. She placed Jaycie’s order with the kitchen, and then slid into the noon rush. Things were at their thickest, with every table full and a few parties waiting, when Jaycie grabbed her attention.

“Five minutes, I promise,” Gwen called over her shoulder.

“I need thirty seconds. You want to see this.”

Gwen set her current order in front of its waiting patrons and stopped next to Jaycie. She wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. “What’s up?”

Jaycie held out her phone, search result displayed with Gwen’s website at the top. “Your URL, your metadata?”

“You know it is.” A sick feeling without a source clawed at Gwen’s gut.

Jaycie clicked the link. The screen spun as the device changed to the new website, and… Gwen clenched her jaw so hard, her teeth ached. Brad’s site sat on the screen, not hers. “No.”

“Yes.” Jaycie set the phone down. “He hijacked your search-engine listing.”

Molten rage filled Gwen’s veins.
Fucking asshole.
“Maybe it’s a misunderstanding.” She struggled to keep the waver from her voice.

“We both know a 403 redirect doesn’t happen accidentally.”

Gwen muttered every foul word she could think of under her breath. “Thanks for showing me.” She couldn’t deal with it now; she had customers to take care of. She focused her remaining energy on not taking this out on them. The minutes ticked by, and then a few hours. Somewhere along the way, Jaycie wished her luck and offered to help break kneecaps if needed, and then took off.

By the time the diner was almost empty again, Gwen’s scorching fury had shifted to something cold and sat heavy in her limbs. She snagged Brad’s card from where she’d tucked it under the cash register, and dialed the work number.

“Too Goode to be True. This is Mr. Goode’s office. May I help you?” The woman who answered the phone was cool and polite.

Gwen wouldn’t take this out on her. No, she wanted to do it in person, and let Brad deal with it himself. She poured sugar into her voice. “Hi. I was wondering if Brad had any openings in his schedule this afternoon. I was hoping to make an appointment.”

“I’m sorry, miss. His calendar is booked for the rest of the day. He’s free tomorrow at two.”

“Are you sure? I think he might make five minutes for me.”

“Oh?” The woman’s voice lilted in disbelief. “And who might you be, miss?”

“His fiancée.”

“I—” There was a long pause. “Can I have you hold for a moment?”

“Of course.” Gwen probably looked like a maniac to anyone watching. Grinning at the empty air, teeth gritted, tone syrupy. It didn’t matter what answer the woman came back with. Gwen would head down there and camp outside Brad’s office until he made time. But she could
try
to afford him a courtesy he hadn’t given her, and make an appointment.

“Ms. Debson?” The woman was back a few seconds later. “He says he’s sorry he can’t take your call, but he’d love to see you at three-thirty, if that works for you.”

“That sounds perfect.” Gwen cringed at her own cheer. Maybe it was a bit over the top.

“Great. We’ll see you then. And congratulations.”

Gwen hissed at the phone after she disconnected. That gave her about twenty minutes to get there. Not a lot of time, but enough. She let her people know she was stepping out for the afternoon, grabbed her purse, and cut a straight line for her car. Every stoplight she missed or car who drove a little too slow raised her ire another notch. By the time she reached the address on Brad’s business card, she was ready to scream.

The four-story brick building was a modern one in Sugar House, a few blocks from his condo. The city had spent a lot of money over the last few years, reviving the old town and making everything old look new again. Brad’s company sat on the top floor of the building. She was a little surprised the office was so small, for a company with such a large presence. She doubted more than thirty people worked there.

Reception pointed down the hall, last door on the left, and told her he was waiting. With each new step, the mask Gwen had worn since she figured out he was hijacking her site melted away a little more. When he stepped from his office and met her halfway, she couldn’t hide her growl.

He frowned. “Hey, sweetie. You all right?”

“Peachy.”

“Okay… I’m really sorry, but I have to handle something over in Art, and they need it in time to drop their work with FedEx. Give me ten minutes?”

She blinked at him in disbelief. He was acting like there was nothing wrong and brushing off their meeting. “No.”

“Please.” He reached for her hand.

She stepped away. She didn’t want to make a scene in front of his employees, but she was seconds from doing so.

“I’ll hurry. There are chairs there.” He nodded toward two next to his door. “Ten minutes, tops.”

And then he was gone. Gwen stared wide eyed at the spot where he’d just stood. She was unable to grasp a single thought. What was she supposed to do, chase him down and rip him a new one in front of his Art Department? Satisfying, to be sure, but the professionalism inside wouldn’t let her carry through with it. She dropped into an empty seat, twisted her fingers together, and tried not to grip so tight it made her knuckles ache.

“Excuse me.” A young voice interrupted Gwen’s silent rage. “Gwen?”

She looked up to find Drea watching her. Great. Now she was going to have to answer questions like,
Are you my daddy’s new girlfriend?
Or,
Will you be my new mommy?
No wonder Brad made her wait in the hall. Gwen swallowed her irritation further down than she had yet today. She might not be interested in signing on to be a stepparent, but there was no reason to be rude to the kid. “Hi. What can I do for you?”

“You can wait in there.” Drea pointed at the open door. “The chairs are more comfortable. I know my dad doesn’t want me bugging business associates, but you’re a friend.”

Gwen wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t know how to refuse the offer. She followed Drea into the room. “Thanks.”

Like with his condo, most of the decor was wrought iron and glass. It had a slick, sterile feel to it. But Drea was right; the padded leather chairs were more comfortable.

Drea paced to the other side of the glass desk. “I’m trying to figure out what my dad sees in this place.”

“You mean work?”

“Yeah, that.” Drea looked around the office. “I mean, all the books are about boring stuff like marketing, and he looks so grumpy when he has to take phone calls.”

“I guess that’s being an adult.”