Page 30 of Icing the Enemy

“Not someone…you.”

“Oh my God, quit saying that!” she scoffs. “Just listen.” She takes a deep breath and puts her hand in mine as if to tether me to her so I can’t escape. “We can help each other out. The Notes want you to settle down, not because you’re a party animal but because it looks bad that you’re single. You’re the face of the franchise, and they want the All-American guy leading them, not some single guy without any prospects who gets taken advantage of.”

Shaking my hand from hers, I lean back against the cabinets. Everything she says is true but whatever Oakley is cooking up in that pretty little head of hers is trouble with a capital T. “And?”

“Well, I need to be married so that I’ll have access to my trust fund.”

“Good luck with that,” I mock as I empty the water in my glass.

“Here’s my proposal. We get married, in name only. After a few weeks of dating, you get management off your back, and I get my monthly allowance which I desperately need.”

My voice climbs to a higher pitch. “Say what?”

Conflicting thoughts wind through my mind. She makes a valid point about what my single status suggests. My public image has always been that of a golden boy but with recent events piled on top of never being photographed with a woman is giving the press and the gossip mags plenty of fodder.

But am I capable of marrying someone under false pretenses?

“Don’t overthink it, Corbin. It’s a win-win. A marriage of convenience, that’s all,” she says, and I can see the desperation in her eyes.

She reaches out, touching my forearm, sending a jolt that feels like a lightning strike. I fight the urge to draw away from her hold. I can’t deny that she’s interesting, beautiful, and mybody is drawn to her, but trusting someone with my career will take some thought.

What will my parents think of me having a sham of a relationship? Knowing Oakley is strapped for cash, I feel a hint of guilt, if I say no.

But isn’t everyone telling me to quit trying to save people?

“I need a drink.”

“Grab me one too,” she responds.

I grab two light beers from the fridge, pop the tops on the counter, and hand her one. “A fake marriage sounds like a recipe for disaster. I don’t like lying.” What I want to say is I don’t know if I can trust you to not blab that it's fake and continue the façade as long as necessary.

Oakley raises her shirt over her head, leaving herself in only a light-blue bra that matches her eyes. “If you don’t want to, I’m sure someone will take me up on the offer.”

I don’t doubt that for a second.

CHAPTER TWELVE

oakley

“Oakley,this plan will never work and put your shirt back on.” He sits down on the bamboo chair, and I watch his knee bounce like crazy. I slowly wiggle back into my shirt, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away “We don’t even like each other.”

Oh, you like me.

“Please,” I beg, holding my hands together in prayer.

His eyes glimmer. “Are you begging me?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “You are, aren’t you?”

Hopefully, he likes the sound of me making this happen by any means necessary even if it includes begging. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

There’s an undeniable connection between us if we can stop arguing long enough to be a fake couple.

“Be honest with me, and I’ll think about it. What possessed you to take my truck? I mean, maybe I was reading the room wrong, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure we were both having fun together.” His voice is strong, yet gentle, the perfect mixture that makes a woman swoon.

“To make a long story short. My mom died three years ago. I never knew my father’s identity. Last week, I received a letterfrom an attorney that my presence was required in Atlanta. Mr. Gould informed me of my trust fund and the requirements to access it—twenty-one, check. Married, not checked.”

Corbin and I could make this work. I know we could.

“So, have you found out who your father is? Jim? Clay?”

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