Page 19 of Fauxmance in the City

His face lands against my neck, his breath hot in my ear where he landed. I twist my head, my nose grazing his rough jawline, and I breathe in his soapy scent.

“Baby, we don’t have time for this.” He growls the warning, but his heart races against my ribs.

A car screeches to a stop in front of the townhouse, and I fling my gaze toward the window.

“Oh shit, they’re here.” I shimmy out from under Sam and take a moment to catch my breath and bring my volcanic heat down to a normal level.

I scoot to the window. A taxi idles at the curb. A young man in jeans and an iron-gray sweater stands in front of the door below. The doorbell rings. I glance over my shoulder at Sam. He leans against the bedpost, his face flushed. He’s watching me with the strangest look in his eyes, like he’s never seen me before.

“What?” I ask, innocently. The game we started in Patrick’s office is addictive, but it’s only a game, I remind myself. “Can’t we enjoy each other while we play pretend?”

“You’re a cruel woman,” he jokes, but there’s little merriment in his voice.

“Come on,” I say, ignoring the shiver that runs over my arms. “Let’s greet our guest.”

“Give me a minute.” He closes his eyes and repeats, “Grandma. Grandma. Grandma.”

Another day. Another erection.

“Ready.” He pushes off the bed, the front of his pants flat.

Sam and I hurry downstairs, and I open the door. The man in front of me is handsome, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Max Chase. He looks older than in his picture, and his rumpled clothes throw me. His wavy brown hair has grown several inches, and there’s a wariness in his eyes that the picture didn’t reflect.

“I’m Max.” He glances at a piece of paper in his hands. “I’m looking for Mrs. Catelyn Bloom.”

“That’s me. Catie.” I step back to let him enter.

“Oh.” His brow furrows like he’s searching for a memory.

“We’ve never met before,” I reassure him. “Just in case you’re wondering.”

“I know. I mean, Aunt Gilli told me.”

I smile. “This must be weird for you.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what’s weird and what’s normal.”

Max’s chocolate eyes stare into mine, and I blush. I wasn’t expecting him to be so yummy. In need of a makeover, but there’s a whole lot of sexy underneath the rough exterior.

“I’m Sam.” He wraps an arm possessively around my shoulders. “Catie’s husband.” He squishes his lips on my cheek.

I elbow Sam in the ribs, and he releases me.

“Don’t mind him,” I say to Max, who stares at his feet. “My darling husband gets carried away.”

“Is the dog here?” Max asks when I lead him into the living room. “The only memory I have is from my childhood—playing with my dog Chester. Aunt Gilli said he died of bone cancer years ago. It was a sweet gesture for her to buy me a dog just like him to help my transition.”

Max’s smile is eager, and I hesitate to tell him that he’s mistaken. Gillian is only fostering the dog for a couple of weeks—for the shoot.

“I’d love to take him out for a walk,” Max says. “The therapist Aunt Gilli hired says doing everyday things I used to do is the best way for me to jog my memory. It can’t be forced.”

This entire TV special is trying to force it.

We look out the window to the darkening sky. “The dog’s out back,” I say.

I walk Max through the kitchen and out onto the patio, but I don’t see the dog in the garden. I’m not sure what I expected, but this man looks like he’s teetering on the brink.

“Doggie,” I whisper. “Psst. Psst. Doggie.”

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