Page 91 of Faking the Shot

Others, like Chris and Luc and Mike, seemed to be comfortable living out their faith, but he still felt like he was on training wheels. Keeping his mouth shut meant he had less chance to fall. Even if he’d fallen for this woman so thoroughly that he couldn’t imagine life without her. So he wouldn’t spoil things. Not tonight, anyway. Not when a kiss could finally be his in a few short minutes.

“I suppose we could just do a show kiss,” she murmured.

“A show kiss?” His lips twisted. “Is that where we show them how a kiss should be done?”

She laughed, drawing heads to turn their way. “It’s a TV kiss. Like what I do.”

Envy at these other men who had tasted what he wanted rippled through him. “And how is that different to a real kiss?”

“For a show kiss, you want it to look real, but there’s awareness of everyone around you. All the cameras, the directors, sound guys. There can be dozens on a set.”

“And the other?” He kept his eyes on hers. “The real kiss?”

She blushed. “That’s when you’re lost in the moment and don’t care who sees.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

The countdown began, and he drew her to one side. Either show kiss or real, he’d finally know what it would be like to kiss Ainsley Beckett.

He smiled at her, one arm around her back, as his teammates and their partners and friends counted the dying seconds of this year. “Three, two, one, Happy New Year!”

Around them as streamers and confetti fell, he kept his eyes on her. “Happy New Year, Ainsley.”

“Happy New Year, Zac.”

He leaned down, closed his eyes, and brushed his lips against hers in a moment of sweet perfection. Her lips were soft, so soft, so sweet, and everything he’d hoped.

Around them, laughter and revelry and plenty more kissing was going on, but he ignored them all, intensely focused on her as he pulled away an inch.

“How was that?” he murmured.

Her eyes were still closed. “Perfect.”

“Come on, Parotti. You can do better than that,” Drew goaded.

He could, but he wouldn’t push her. He was still trying to follow her lead, follow her script, after all.

Ainsley’s eyes opened. “Can you?” she whispered.

A show kiss? Or a real one? “You want me to be more convincing?”

She stared up at him, then grasped his head and tugged his face down. His eyes closed as his lips found hers, and she kissed him. Really kissed him.

He wrapped her more tightly in his arms, and the music, the laughter, the party faded. It was just him and Ainsley, kissing in this moment like they were made to do this. Almost like God had ordained this moment between them.

Heat ignited and he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping the back of her head. She pressed in more hungrily which only increased his need for more too. Then, as if by mutual consent, their kiss softened, sweetened, and he drew back, lifting his lips reluctantly from hers, as a whoop went up from around the room.

“Get a room!” someone called.

Oh. Looked like that had been a little too real. He glanced across, saw Chris and Diana staring at them. He cut back from their concern to refocus on Ainsley.

Ainsley stared at him, her chest heaving. “Zac.”

“Ainsley.”

“I…” She patted her chest, catching her breath.

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