LITMIR.BIZ

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      Viviana Dawson had dreamed about her wedding day a bunch of times and not once had she imagined the swirl in her gut, which could only be described as a cocktail of nerves and holy crap.

      Jonas was going to be her husband in a few short minutes and the anticipation of what if was killing her.

      Jonas Kim had asked her to marry him. Jonas. The man who had kept Viv dateless for almost a year because who could measure up to perfection? Nobody.

      Oh, sure, he’d framed it all as a favor and she’d accepted under the premise that they’d be filing for annulment ASAP. But still. She’d be Mrs. Kim for as long as it lasted.

      Which might be short indeed if he figured out she had a huge crush on him.

      He wasn’t going to figure it out. Because oh, my God. If he did find out...

      Well, he couldn’t. It would ruin their friendship for one. And also? She had no business getting into a serious relationship, not until she figured out how to do and be whatever the opposite was of what she’d been doing and being with men thus far in her adult dating life.

      Her sisters called it clingy. She called it committed. Men called it quits.

      Jonas was the antidote to all that.

      The cheesy chapel wasn’t anything close to the venue of her fantasies, but she’d have married Jonas in a wastewater treatment plant if he’d asked her to. She pushed open the door, alone and not too happy about it. In retrospect, she should have insisted one of her sisters come to Vegas with her. Maybe to act as her maid of honor.

      She could really use a hand to hold right about now, but no. She hadn’t told any of her sisters she was getting married, not even Grace, who was closest to her in age and had always been her confidante. Well, until Grace had disappeared into her own family in much the same fashion as their other two sisters had done.

      Viv was the cute pony in the Dawson family stable of Thoroughbreds. Which was the whole reason Viv hadn’t mentioned her quickie Vegas wedding to a man who’d never so much as kissed her.

      She squared her shoulders. A fake marriage was exactly what she wanted. Mostly.

      Well, of course she wanted a real marriage eventually. But this one would get her into the secret club that the rest of the married Dawson sisters already belonged to. Plus, Jonas needed her. Total win across the board.

      The chapel was hushed and far more sacrosanct than she’d have expected in what was essentially the drive-through lane of weddings. The quiet scuttled across her skin, turning it clammy. She was really doing this. It had all been conceptual before. Now it was real.

      Could you have a nervous breakdown and recover in less than two minutes? She didn’t want to miss a second of her wedding. But she might need to sit down first.

      And then everything fell away as she saw Jonas in a slim-fitting dark suit that showcased his wiry frame. His energy swept out and engulfed her, as it always had from that first time she’d turned to see him standing outside her shop, his attention firmly on her instead of the sweet treats in the window.

      Quick with a smile, quicker with a laugh, Jonas Kim’s beautiful angular face had laced Viv’s dreams many a night. He had a pretty rocking body, too. He kept in great shape playing racquetball with his friends, and she’d spent hours picturing him shirtless, his chest glistening as he swung a racket. In short, he was a truly gorgeous individual who she could never study long enough to sate herself.

      Jonas’s dark, expressive eyes lit up as he caught sight of her and he crossed the small vestibule to sweep her into a hug. Her arms came up around his waist automatically. How, she had no idea, when this was literally the first time he’d ever touched her.

      He even smelled gorgeous.

      And now would be a great time to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Hey.”

      Wonderful. They’d had spirited debates on everything from the travesty of pairing red wine with fish to the merits of the beach over the mountains. Shakespeare, The Simpsons. But put her in the arms of the man she’d been salivating over for months and the power of speech deserted her.

      He stepped back. Didn’t help. And now she was cold.

      “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, his smooth voice ruffling all her nerve endings in the most delicious way. Despite being born in North Carolina, he had almost no accent. Good thing. He was already devastating enough.

      “Can’t have a wedding with no bride,” she informed him. Oh, thank God, she could still talk, Captain Obvious moment aside. “Am I dressed okay for a fake marriage?”

      His intense eyes honed in on her. “You look amazing. I love that you bought a new dress for this.”

      Yeah, that was why she passed up the idiots who hit on her with lame lines like “Give me your number and I’ll frost your cupcakes for you.” Jonas paid attention to her and actually noticed things like what she wore. She’d picked out this yellow dress because he’d mentioned once that he liked the color.

      Which made it all the more strange that he’d never clued in that she had a huge thing for him. She was either better at hiding it than she’d had a right to hope for, or he knew and mercifully hadn’t mentioned it.

      Her pulse sped out of control. He didn’t know, she repeated silently. Maybe a little desperately.

      There was no way he could know. He’d never have asked her to do this marriage favor otherwise.

      She’d been faking it this long. No reason to panic.

      “I wanted to look good,” she told him. For you. “For the pictures.”

      He smiled. “Mission accomplished. I want you to meet Warren.”

      Jonas turned, absently putting his arm around her and oh, that was nice. They were a unit already, and it had seemed to come so naturally. Did he feel it, too?

      That’s when she realized there was another man in the vestibule. Funny, she hadn’t even noticed him, though she supposed women must fawn all over him, with those cheekbones and that expensive haircut. She held out her hand to the friend Jonas had talked endlessly about. “Nice to meet you. Jonas speaks very highly of you.”

      “Likewise,” Warren said with a cryptic glance at Jonas. “And I’m sure whatever he’s told you is embellished.”

      Doubtful when she didn’t need Jonas’s help to know that the energy drink company his friend ran did very well. You couldn’t escape the logo for Flying Squirrel no matter where you looked.

      Jonas waved that off with a smirk. “Whatever, man. Where’s Hendrix?”

      “Not my turn to babysit him.” Warren shrugged, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text him. He’ll be here.”

      Somehow, Jonas seemed to have forgotten his arm was still around Viv’s waist and she wasn’t about to remind him. But then he guided her toward the open double doors that led to the interior of the chapel with firm fingers. Well, if this almost-intimacy was part of the wedding package, she’d take it.

      “I’m not waiting on his sorry ass,” Jonas called over his shoulder. “There are a thousand more couples in line behind us and I’m not losing my spot.”

      Warren nodded and waved, still buried in his phone.

      “Some friends,” Jonas murmured to her with a laugh, his head bent close. He was still taller than her even when she wore heels, but it had never been as apparent as it was today, since she was still tucked against his side as if he never meant to let go. “This is an important day in my life and you see how they are.”

      “I’m here.” For as long as he needed her.

      Especially if he planned to put his arm around her a whole bunch more. His warm palm on her waist had oddly settled her nerves. And put a whole different

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