Page 24 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

My dating experience might have been sporadic—the seasonal flu came with more regularity than I did—but I was a woman and knew the signs. For one man. But with twins, it was like being hit over the head with a cartoon anvil. They could have been speaking Swahili and I would have understood their intentions. I picked up on a few important French words:petite choux, partagerandménage.The first was an endearment that translated literally as little cabbage. Not overly romantic sounding, but in French, quite playful and endearing. The second meant share and I didn't have to be a Francophone to know the last.

They wanted to share me. Me! Their touch was soft, but their intentions very strong. I inhaled sharply, my eyes going wide. A teacher from a podunk town in Montana. It really was like erotic fiction.Just like my book.

The one all but kissing my neck pulled back, gazed at me. They continued to talk between them, and with context, I followed along easily. My heart hammered in my chest, nervous, a little excited, and a whole lot flattered at their very eager attentions.

“She is the one for us. Mike is not enough for her. We'll show her what having two men can be like. She will be ruined for all others.” My translation was fairly literal and I definitely caught on.

“Yes, by the end of the week she will be flying to France to be with us.”

Holy shit. Jubal's nephews were polyamorous French twins. Now I knew what Mike felt like, being chased so eagerly, and why he'd been so desperate to have me come to Alaska. Was there something in the water? Susan interrupting my shower. Uncle Bob dressing like Jefferson Davis—I knew now where the dog got his name. Obsessed twins. Everyone was crazy.

And they had their sights on me. And their hands. If I was going to take Goldie's advice and live out my erotic romance, I'd have to tag team the two French look-alike hotties. I gulped. That might be more adventure than I could handle. Did I even want to? Sure, I'd never have to carry groceries from the garage again. My car would always have the oil changed, but the toilet seat would always be up.

My mother could understand Mike's faux engagement, but I wasn't so sure how she could handle me moving to France. Goldie would have a field day if she knew.

“She smells like mint. Delectable,” the left one said.

His blue eyes were piercing, his gaze roaming over my face and settling on my mouth.

“I want to kiss her while you?—”

“Hey, Jean-Luc. Marc,” Mike said. He filled the doorway out to the living room. “Do you need help with something?”

Both men took a step back, giving me some breathing space. All three men stared at each other, bodies tense, and backs straight. Testosterone filled the hallway and practically choked me.

One of the twins glanced at me. Mike must not have liked the look because he came over, wrapped a hand around the nape of my neck. Goose bumps spread down my arms. This wasn't a gentle hand on my shoulder or on my waist. The placement of his hand at the back of my neck was different. It felt different. Felt oh, so possessive. Like he wasn't just telling the twins 'hands off' but telling me without words that I belonged to him.

Okay. Total pissing match.

“Mike,” I started.

“I don't like the way these guys are bothering you.”

“They're not bothering me. Really.” Okay, they were bothering me. The kind ofbotherthat had my girl parts perking up.I'd never before in my life been the interest of three men. Three hot, dominant, alpha men. At the same time. It was a volatile situation and I was a little unsettled. And a lot turned on.

“They need to sniff around someone else.”

Sniff? Seriously? “I don't think they understand what you just said.”

He looked down at me, eyes sharp. Intense. “Fine. Then I'll speak in a language they're sure to understand.”

The hand at my nape pulled me up onto my tiptoes as he lowered his mouth to mine. He kissed me. Not a simple peck on the cheek, but a 'get a room' kiss that left no doubt in either Jean-Luc or Marc's mind—or mine—Mike's meaning.

Tilting his head, he angled the kiss so that he settled in deeper, his teeth nipping at my lower lip, hard enough to have me gasp, and then his tongue licked and soothed the pain away. I moaned. It was the most erotic kiss I'd ever had. I wanted more.

When he lifted his head, I looked down to see his T-shirt tangled tightly in my fingers. I never remembered grabbing hold. He'd blown all of my circuits and I wasn't sure if my legs worked. Or if I was still wearing clothes.

His kiss had certainly done what he'd intended because the twins were nowhere in sight.

“That wassocaveman of you.”

Mike grinned, his smile filled with manly pride. “Whatever it takes, babe. Whatever it takes.” He walked off, and I heard him ask Jubal what the score was on the game.

As I stood there contemplating the shallow depths of a man's psyche, I saw Trish out of the corner of my eye, picking up things from the living room. Beneath one arm was a ceramic garden gnome. Since dinner, she'd changed into a clingy white T-shirt with a horizontal strip of black sequins strategically placed to show off her ample assets. Her makeup was perfect and her hair was sleek down her back.

I recognized that gnome. What was it doing in Alaska and how did Trish come to have it? I went to find out.

Trish eyes darted over my shoulder as I approached. I pivoted and we both watched the French brothers watching me as they slinked off to a different part of the house.

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