LITMIR.BIZ

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he was gone. Retreating through the crowd, offering arm claps and boisterous laughter by way of damage control as he went. Stopping for only one furtive glance back.

      “You okay?” Nate asked, a single vein throbbing in his neck as he ran his big hands gently over the place where Clint had bruised her.

      Payton placed her palm at the center of his chest, felt the violent punch of his heart beneath. The tight rein on his fury as he fought for control. “I’m fine. Clint wouldn’t hurt me.”

      She took a deep breath as Nate’s arm crossed her back, his hand settling possessively at the flare of her hip. It was obvious and so good and not at all what they’d discussed. “I thought the plan was to keep some distance. Play hard to get with the press?”

      Nate peered down at her tucked beneath his arm. Wide brown eyes met his and he felt the pull of them straight through the center of his body. A little too far north of his belt for his comfort, truth be told, but it was there nonetheless. “The plan changed.”

      Yeah, like the second that jerk touched her. But in all honesty, things were pretty shaky before that. “Clint just gave us the perfect opportunity to bring this to a head…Tell me to get the hell away from you.”

      She jerked out of his hold. “You’re pretend breaking up with me?”

      As furious as Clint had made him, he couldn’t help but smile at the indignation in her expression and tone. “No, princess. I’m not pretend breaking up with you. To the contrary, we’re going to have our first public spat. And then I’m hauling you out of here to pretend make up with you.”

      The corner of her mouth twitched with the amusement overtaking the tension of a moment ago. “What exactly is involved in pretending to make up?”

      He leaned that much closer, absorbing the rising heat from her skin. “Tell me to walk away and you’ll find out.” Her eyes widened, pooling dark at his proximity. Giving into the pull of her so close, Nate brushed his knuckles across her shoulder, over the tiny strap of her black dress. “Tell me to keep my hands to myself before someone realizes what’s going on.”

      Her arms crossed as she gave him her shoulder and spoke toward the crowd using one of those hushed tones that sounded convincing but still managed to carry. “You need to stop. Walk away, Nate.”

      “Do I?” He let out a gruff laugh followed by a deep sigh, close enough to her ear to stir the fine hairs around it. “Why?”

      She shivered. “Someone will notice.”

      It was exactly what was happening. More eyes turned their way with every passing second. “Mmm, notice how close I’m standing? How long we’ve been talking? The rapid rise and fall of your chest? Your heightened color suggesting an escalated pulse? Are they going to notice that I want you…or that you want me?”

      She spun back to him, face flushed, lips parted with a frustrated plea that flickered between hostility and desire. “Nate…”

      He caught her chin in his palm, lowering his face to within an inch of hers. “Let them see. I’m done playing games.”

      Turning her cheek into his hand, she peered up at him and countered, “You never stop playing games.”

      Chapter Eleven

      WRAPPED in Nate’s dinner jacket, Payton stood before the vast expanse of glass staring out at the light bright cityscape surrounding the penthouse apartment. Waiting.

      They’d left the event together, fingers twined, allowing a photographer the opportunity to snap a picture as they darted for the car, knowing a counterpart would be staked out at Nate’s building as well. Her heart had been racing, her stomach in tumult as she’d waited for him to make his move. But as the scenery blurred past the windows, Nate kept his distance, content to discuss the success of the night. He was confident there’d be a stack of messages from reporters the next morning looking for the scoop on the relationship with Payton Liss. She’d nodded and agreed, all the while contemplating the two roads before her. One smart. One reckless. One right. One wrong. There shouldn’t have been any question at all. Only as she’d watched Nate fall into that wide-legged, masculine sprawl, one arm draped across the leather seatback, all she could think was how tempting it would be to climb into his lap. Run her lips across the faint scrub of his jaw. His neck. His mouth…

      Now they were back at his apartment, Nate stepped into the reflection in the dark glass as his hands settled over the slope of her shoulders. “What are you thinking?”

      That she was crazy and he was dangerous, and if she wasn’t very careful she’d end up exactly where she wanted to be. “That your secret’s safe.”

      “I think it is. In large part thanks to Clint.”

      She stiffened. Looked past his image into the night where streetlights illuminated spots of scenery and the red streaks of taillights disappeared around the corner two blocks down. “I should have thought about how he’d react. Warned him. But I didn’t think of him at all.”

      He squeezed gently over her muscles, drawing the tension out with slow strokes. “He’s jealous.” Not a question. “Wants you back.”

      “Maybe. Yes.” At least he thought he did. Clint wanted the woman she’d pretended to be.

      “Not quite the idiot I thought, then. But you don’t want him, do you?”

      She shook her head. “No. I really don’t.”

      “Good.” His breath came close to her ear. “Then that’s out of the way.”

      A warning skittered over her skin and she turned out of his hold. Stepped back. Swallowed. “I should go. Tomorrow’s a school day. We both have to work.”

      Nate dismissed her protest with a flick of his hand.

      Nonsense. Inconsequential.

      “I wouldn’t stop you if marrying Clint was what you wanted.” His gaze drifted to her mouth, to where she’d anxiously set her teeth into her lip. “Or maybe I would.”

      He was flirting, playing as he always did.

      Yeah, sure he was.

      A nervous laugh escaped her and he took a step forward, one golden brow arched in question. “You think I wouldn’t?”

      Okay, this was it. Her chance to talk sense. She shook her head and took another step back. Slowly. She wouldn’t stand a chance if this turned into a game of chase. “You might be cutthroat and relentless and everything else they say about you, but you’re also honest and honorable. You’ve been that way your whole life—it’s just not quite as obvious the way the papers paint you now.”

      “You’re a Pollyanna,” he countered with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I like it. Did I mention I had a bridge to sell you?”

      “No way, Nate,” she scoffed, her confidence returning with their banter. “You do the right thing. I trust you. It’s why you—your friendship means so much to me.” One of the reasons anyway.

      He took another step forward. “I’m glad to hear honesty is important to you, because about that friendship thing—”

      “Stop.” Before it was too late and she ended up losing everything because she couldn’t resist the sound of his voice and lure of his words. “Let’s think about this for a minute.”

      “I’ve already thought about it,” he answered flatly.

      “Listen,” she pleaded. “Imagine we have two roads before us. Friendship is like an interstate highway.”

      Nate’s chin pulled back, amusement battling with distaste. “Remind me not to hire you for any marketing jobs.”

      Ignoring the little boy who didn’t want anyone to make the rules but him, she went on. “The highway is long and constant. Scenic. Pleasant. We could travel it for years.”

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