Page 87 of Reputation (Tempt)

Nate’s mouth twitched as if he was fighting back a laugh.

Bridget evaluated me then finally returned to questioning Nate. “What changed?”

“Everything.” He turned to me with a smile, leaning in for another kiss on the cheek. Did he have to lay it on so thick?

Bridget crossed her legs. “Emerson, when did things change for you?”

“I think—” I glanced at Nate.Stick as close to the truth as possible.“Things changed slowly for me. I’d see what a good dad he was. Or I’d be reminded of how fun he could be when he’d let go. He’d do something thoughtful. All those small moments added up over time.”

“It wasn’t love at first sight, then?”

I barked out a laugh. “Definitely not.”

Bridget inclined her head. “At least she’s honest.”

“It’s one of the reasons I love her,” Nate said, giving my hand a squeeze. “Her authenticity and her willingness to put me in my place.”

“I thought that was what drove you crazy,” I teased before I could stop myself.

“That too.”

“So you were going to keep your engagement a secret, but the news came out,” Bridget said. “Tell us about that.”

I told her about Nate coming to the hospital, tweaking the details obviously to fit the narrative Nate and I were trying to sell. Carefully omitting the part about losing my job and avoiding any mention of the Hartwell Agency. But most of it was true—the fact that he’d never left my side. His insistence on paying my hospital bill despite my protests. His concern. Even now, when he spoke of his reaction to my hospitalization, the worry lines were still etched into his skin.

I knew he cared about me. I knew that wasn’t an act, but just as my heart softened toward him, it was quickly replaced by the sting of his rejection this morning. My feelings were too mixed up where Nate was concerned, and the less physical contact we had, the better.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Nate was already in bed when I entered the room. He was propped up against the headboard, the covers pulled to his waist. We’d survived the interview, and I’d spent the rest of the day avoiding him. But now, it was late. I was tired. And his chest was gloriously bare.

One year. I’d locked myself into a year of this torture.

God, why did my fake fiancé have to be so freaking sexy?

Especially with those glasses perched on his nose, his brow furrowed in concentration. He glanced up at me and then scowled. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

I frowned then followed his eyes down the length of my body. I had on an oversized T-shirt that stopped high on my thighs, the spot where Nate’s eyes lingered.

“It’s a T-shirt,” I said in a flippant tone.

I’d picked it up in the gift shop after the interview so I wouldn’t have to wear another set of the sexy lingerie Jay had sent. Barely there lace and sheer designs were only asking for trouble. I plugged in my phone and busied myself with getting things just right on my nightstand.

“Yeah. I know.” He let out a heavy sigh, and I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh at his discomfort. “But where are your pants?”

“It’s not like I’m naked beneath my shirt,” I said, lifting the hem to reveal my boy shorts.

“Emerson,” he growled.

“What?” I paused. “Oh, are you concerned you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?” I hadn’t meant to say that.

But now that I had, I was curious. Did he regret this morning? Regret waking up together—or regret stopping us?

Hell, I didn’t know how we’d ended up tangled together. I just knew that it felt good. More than good—amazing. But he’d been right to stop us, even if I’d never been hornier or more embarrassed.

Pretending to be engaged in public was one thing, but this was… Well, it felt as if the lines were blurring between real and pretend. My heart and my head were getting confused, and we were playing a dangerous game.

“I shouldn’t have…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

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