Page 33 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

Avery gives up trying to throw the blankets over the railing, and drags a chair over instead. She climbs, balancing precariously as she tries to cover the windows.

“I can do that,” I tell her, moving to help.

“It’s fine,” Avery insists stubbornly.

“C’mon—

“I can take care of myself.” She reaches higher. “And you’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want to—AAIII!”

Avery loses her balance, and starts to fall. I leap closer, managing to grab her by the waist before she tumbles to the ground.

“You were saying?” I ask pointedly, and then gloating is the last thing on my mind because Avery is in my arms.

Warm and yielding, her curves crushed against me; her heart-shaped face just inches away.

Blue eyes wide on mine. Soft lips parted. Breath coming fast.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

Lust crashes through me, sending good sense and logic out of my head for good.

I could kiss her.

I could kiss her right now, and find out what that smart perfect mouth tastes like.

I could kiss her, and make her forget about the headlines; turn that sad caution to a sigh of pleasure.

Find out what makes her moan…

Avery blinks up at me, still wide-eyed with her cheeks flushed bright pink. “I should, umm…” she lifts her hands from where they were laying pressed against my chest, and makes to pull away from me.

“Sure. Right. Sorry.” I quickly set her on the ground again, and step back. I need to do something with my hands in case I lose my mind and reach for her again, so I grab the blankets, and quickly finish draping them to cover the view. “There,” I blurt, still feeling off-balance. “That should do it.”

“For now,” Avery says, rueful. “But thanks.”

I follow her back towards the front door. “Would it help?” I blurt suddenly.

She turns.

“What Quinn was saying, the other day. If you and I…” I trail off. I can’t believe I’m even saying it, but something about the look in her eyes just about breaks my heart: so sad and cautious, like she’s a wild animal trapped in here, under siege from the yells and speculation outside. “If we pretended… you know, to be for real.”

Avery’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?” her voice comes out a squeak.

“If it’d make all that bullshit go away,” I say, jerking a nod towards the door.

“I… I don’t know,” she blurts, still looking flustered. “But… probably? Quinn says the tabloids are like wild animals. If you feed them scraps, it can stop them tearing you apart.”

“Then we’ll do it.”

I don’t even decide until the words leave my mouth. I mean, hell, everyone already thinks we’re an item. What difference will it make if I play along for a couple of weeks?

“But—” Avery starts to answer, when I catch a flash of movement through a gap in the drapes. Some asshole reporter is trampling all over the flower beds, trying to peer in the front window.

“Avery!” he’s yelling, outside the cottage. “Over here. Show us those tits!”

Avery cringes back, trying to hide in the shadows. I feel a surge of anger.

Goddamn vultures.

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