Page 9 of Daddy's Naughty Author

I can't suppress my smile as the screen fills with a chorus of laughter and good-natured ribbing. "Oh, come on, guys, KC is not some brooding alpha male straight out of my books. He's just...KC." I wave a nonchalant hand, even as my insides squirm with the knowledge of how close to home their teasing lands.

"Sure, sure," Jackie snickers, "and I'm just casually friends with Chris Hemsworth."

"Hey, if you're holding out on us with a Hemsworth connection, I will personally lead the intervention," I quip back, but my thoughts are already tumbling into a chaotic dance.

Internally, I'm grappling with the absurdity of the situation. Me, Rebekah Johnson, the writer of spicy contemporary romance novels, caught up in a fake relationship that could rival any steamy plot twist. It's laughable, really. My mind flits playfully over the idea of KC as a Daddy Dom, and I almost snort aloud at the ridiculousness of it. KC, with his military precision and demanding personality commanding me to lay across his lap and— oh God, I can't even finish that thought without my face heating up. I mean, there’s the undeniable zing of chemistry that sizzles between us, threatening to ignite something I'm not sure I'm ready to handle. I mean, the guy can make changing his oil look like an act of seduction. Not that I'm paying that much attention. Definitely not.

"RJ? Earth to RJ!" Jess calls out, snapping me back to the present. "You're zoning out. Is KC doing pull-ups shirtless again?" I might have mentioned the view I have from my kitchen window into his living room once before… maybe. Once or twice.

"Ha! In your dreams," I retort, feeling the flush now impossible to hide. "The only exercise KC has been doing around me lately is jumping to conclusions."

They all laugh, and I join in. "Anyway," I redirect before they can spot my blush, "how about that scene where?—"

"Save it, girl," Gina interrupts with a knowing smile. "We all know you're just stalling. You still haven’t told us about dinner with KC’s mom."

"I am not," I protest, but my voice lacks conviction. It's true; I am stalling. Stalling from facing the reality that KC might just be more than a convenient lie. That maybe, just maybe, he's starting to fit into the role of my hero a little too well. I realized when I woke up and immediately checked my phone to see if he’d messaged me, that I might be falling for him and not the fake kind, either.

"Let's get back to the book," I insist, steering the conversation away from dangerous waters. "There's plenty to unpack without diving into my nonexistent love life."

"Nonexistent, she says," Jess mutters with a smirk. "Keep telling yourself that, RJ."

“Yes, I think thou protests too much,” Karen says.

I roll my eyes again, but I can't shake the feeling that my friends might see through me better than I'd like to admit. I quickly catch them up on the news. I’ve committed to pretending to be KC’s girlfriend for two whole weeks. The women respond with cheers, which surprises me.

Then, like a scene change in one of my books, my attention flickers to the movement outside the window beside me. There's KC, standing on the porch. He's leaning against the railing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, exuding that easy confidence that only men who are comfortable in their own skin seem to possess. He squats down, giving me a delicious view of his shapely ass, as his gaze fixes on something out of sight. There's an alertness in his posture. I wonder what it is he’s looking at or for. Did he drop something under the porch?

As if he can feel me staring, KC turns his head and his eyes meet mine through the glass, and nods hello. I nod back and he gives me a small wink, as if he’s telling me he knows I’mwatching him. A heat unfurls low in my belly, a warm, tingling sensation that whispers of forbidden thoughts and late-night fantasies. It's ridiculous, this reaction I have to him and how often I have to remind myself that anything between us is made up. Fake. Absolutley, not real.

"RJ, earth to RJ!" The sound of Liz’s voice snaps me back to the grid of animated faces on my laptop screen.

"Sorry, got distracted.”

"Sure, distracted,'" winks Gina from her square, her eyebrow arching in a way that suggests she's reading between the lines of our current romance novel and my life. "Is your ‘distraction’ a tall, dark, Daddy Dom standing outside?"

The group erupts into laughter, and I roll my eyes, playing along with their teasing. "KC is not a Daddy Dom, guys. He doesn’t have any of the characteristics of one." I realize I’ve just lied to all of them.

"Except when he's telling you to lock your doors at night," adds Jess, her giggles infectious. "That's textbook protective behavior, RJ."

"Come on, RJ," Tasha says, pulling me back once more, "admit it. There's something about KC that gets under your skin—in a good way."

"Under my skin?" I scoff, feigning nonchalance. "He's just a neighbor I’m doing a favor for. And trust me, if he had any of those alpha tendencies, I'd be the first to run for the hills."

"Or into his arms," Liz teases, and the others chime in with playful oohs and aahs.

“I think you are overlooking his alpha tendencies. I mean, he told you to wear your coat, you said he put your seatbelt on, and—” Gina is interrupted by the knock on my door. I excuse myself from the call and go to answer the door.

As soon as I pull open the door, the crisp winter air sneaks in, biting at my skin. KC stands on my porch, hands shoved intothe pockets of his jacket, looking like he just stepped out of a brooding, small-town romance novel. I step outside and smile at him.

“You’re not wearing enough clothes to be out here,” he states, voice low and disapproving.

I cross my arms. “Well, hello to you too.”

He exhales sharply, like I’m testing his patience. “Can I borrow a flashlight and apparently my batteries have gone dead on mine. I literally just leant my backup gear to a buddy with my spare. My phone light isn’t strong enough. There’s something under my porch. Think it’s a raccoon or something.”

My brow lifts. “Big, bad soldier scared of a little wildlife?”

He rolls his eyes. “RJ, flashlight. Please.”

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