Famously Engaged Read online

  When it was time? Time for what? Time to pretend he was a selfish bastard who cared more about fame than he did about Beth? Time to bow out gracefully and leave her struggling to find someone who’d make her feel like he did? Public perception was that he was a heartless womanizer, but in reality it always came down to him making the right decision for everyone else and walking away with nothing.

  A commotion outside drew his attention and he was out of the van and heading for Beth before she’d finished calling his name. He pushed through the crowd to get to her and felt her muscles tense when he slid his arm around her waist.

  “I’m Cinderella and you’re Prince Charming,” she said.

  “These lovely people are certain I’m after fifteen minutes of fame, and your money, of course, but they’re curious about what you see in me.” She fixed him with a challenging look, her vulnerability evident to him although he doubted anyone else would notice it.

  “I could answer, Famous Man, but you might prefer to take this one yourself.”

  Hell yeah, he’d love to tell the world what a sweetheart Beth was. The impassioned words died in his throat because revealing more details about her would be unforgivable. Presenting a united front would be a much better course of action, and he could start by dispelling their gold-digging assumptions.

  He spoke directly to Beth despite the jostling crowd. “It’s

  very simple. I’ve carried a glass slipper around for years in the hope it would eventually be a perfect fit for someone. I saw you, spoke to you, and knew my search was over.”

  Beth regarded him as if he’d publicly demonstrated his glass-slipper preference, and for an awkward moment he wondered if his hands had been curved in anticipation.

  He gestured toward her for the benefit of their onlookers.

  “When you find the right person, there’s no point in continuing to look. I have a beautiful fiancée who makes me laugh, surprises and inspires me, cooks awesome food at weird hours of the night, and holds my secrets close. An excess of money and fame are obstacles that we’re dealing with one day at a time.”

  The rest of the encounter was a blur, but Beth slid into his arms like warm butter over toast when the call went up for photographs. He tasted sadness in the kiss they shared for the cameras, and reality hit him hard. Beth was digging incredibly deep to make it through the day, and it had taken him all this time to realize her happiness was only for show. The pride he’d felt at keeping her mood light all day vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a cloud of self-contempt so thick he almost choked on it.

  “I’m going to have to ask you all to move along,” a male voice said. “We start serving dinner for the city’s homeless in less than an hour and your presence here is inappropriate.”

  Beth’s body sagged with relief and Jake pulled her closer as her Brad-clone dispersed the crowd. “Thanks, Simon,” she mouthed and nodded when the man pointed at her and mimed sleeping.

  Jake felt his insides knot at their easy familiarity, especially when Simon put his hand over his heart and sent Beth the kind of look usually reserved for abandoned puppies. Resisting the urge to indulge in a few choice charades of his own, Jake gave Beth his full attention. “I’m taking you home.”

  Beth didn’t appear to notice his possessive tone. Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she yawned delicately. “I’m glad. There’s a really comfortable L-shaped lounge suite there.”

  She was damned lucky they were surrounded by people, because the temptation to toss her over his shoulder caveman— style and hightail it home on foot was incredibly high.

  …

  Beth dozed on the drive home, but Jake woke her while they waited for a green arrow to turn on to her street.

  “Heads up,” he said. “We’ve got a police escort but we’ll still have to do battle with the mob outside your gates.”

  Half-asleep, she almost smiled, but the question she hadn’t asked earlier demanded to be voiced. “When you spoke to the reporters, what was all that glass slipper stuff about? You made it sound like—”

  “Our engagement is real? That was my intention.”

  “Do I get to know why you lied to them?”

  “I didn’t lie. Being seen together in public was confirmation of our engagement, and I know for a fact that you’re not chasing fame or money.” Heat flared in his eyes as his gaze drifted over her. “I’ve been preoccupied with the glass slippers all day so they were bound to come up in conversation.”

  She laughed to disguise the weird ache inside her. Jake hadn’t lied in the usual sense but he’d certainly put a spin on the truth.

  What he’d said to the reporters combined with the way he looked at her now made her wish for the impossible. She wanted to share a lot more than a few days and a bunch of headlines with Jake. “The whole world thinks I’m engaged to you because of something they read. It seems to be a case of seeing-is-believing and that creates a problem for me because I saw it, too.”

  “Hold that thought.” The traffic ahead of them moved and they made the turn on to her street. The swell of reporters had doubled in size, and chaos reigned with pedestrians swarming all over the road. A kebab caravan was doing a roaring trade and she had to fight the ridiculous urge to get out of the van and make a run for it.

  Blaming Jake seemed like her best bet. “You enjoy living like this?”

  Jake’s hand left the steering wheel to cup her elbow. “They’re here for you, Beth. I rarely draw such a crowd.”

  His answer made her smile. “Liar. I searched for you online last night, and there were heaps of pictures of you surrounded by reporters. And models and singers and movie stars.”

  “At events, sure. If I’m at the Grammys or a premiere, a high— profile restaurant or nightclub, an album launch or industry party, then there’s always a crush of reporters and photographers. It’s part of my job to be seen at the right places with other celebrities, and I have a policy of leaving early with a beautiful woman on my arm.”

  She supposed she’d asked for that, but it was still an odd thing for him to tell her after they’d spent the night together. “Do you make a habit of telling the woman you’re with about the other women in your life?”

  He grinned. “Nope. I keep it simple by not having women in my life, singular or plural.” He braked sharply before spraying water over the windshield and putting the wipers on full speed.

  “Look at this guy. He’d cause an accident just to get a shot of us.”

  Beth blinked at the sudden change of subject. Was Jake using the traffic congestion to avoid their conversation? “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but how exactly do you maintain your reputation as a womanizing rock god without having”—she paused for air quotes—“any women in your life?”

  “Most of the photos are candid shots. Any woman who talks to me, dances with me, or eats with me risks being dubbed my latest flame. Hell, there was one woman who leaned close to ask for directions to the restroom. Other shots are planned by my management team ahead of time and staged when I’m leaving a function. It’s generally accepted that I take those women home.”

  His features hardened for a moment, but then he shrugged as if he didn’t care what myths were perpetuated about him. “The constant press helps Five Awesome Emperors stay in the public consciousness.”

  Is it worth it? She swallowed the question, too tired to think straight.

  “No comment?” he asked.

  “Staged photos and fluke shots?” She made a tut-tut sound.

  “Aren’t you worried you’ll lose a fan by dispelling the myth?”

  “What myth?”

  “That you’re utterly irresistible and every woman you meet ends up in bed with you.”

  He choked out a cough that turned into a rich laugh. “Ah, that myth. I take everything I said back. I don’t know what possessed me to lie to you just now.”

  She smiled because he was genuinely amused by the madness of his life. “Apology accepted.”

  H
er focus switched to the gates of her house as they were swung open by unknown minions. The media surged forward, several trying to make it through the gap, others taking their chance to snap photos and shout questions and bang on the windows and doors of the van. It was a similar atmosphere to a protest rally, but these people were on her property.

  “I don’t know how you cope with this.”

  He didn’t respond, his attention fixed on the gates as he waited for a path to be cleared. His life seemed devoid of anything worthwhile, but she stomped on the pity that swelled inside her.

  He’d chosen to live this way and probably didn’t know what he was missing.

  Jake unlocked his door and slid across the bench seat toward her as a security guard climbed into the driver’s seat. Their driver appeared to have little regard for human safety, and within a few minutes they made it through the gates to the comparative safety of her yard. Without a word, the guard pulled the van to a halt near her front door and alighted to open her door for her.

  She dashed to the front door and fumbled the key in the lock, the air between her and Jake thickening as the front door closed, offering complete privacy for the first time in hours. Question time was probably over, but she couldn’t let it drop.

  “Can I…ask you one more thing?”

  “Before you decide I’m irresistible and climb into bed with me?”

  Heat rushed to her face but laughter accompanied it. “Yes, before that. Today has raised some questions for me.”

  “I thought it might.” He held his hand out to her and she took it, digging her heels in when he tried to hustle her down the hall.

  “Wait, I need to show you a couple of things.” She pointed to a series of discreet scribbles on the closest doorframe to where they stood. “These are mine. They’re a record of how tall I was on each birthday till I was sixteen, and I adore them because they’re in my father’s handwriting. We stopped after…we decided sixteen was a good enough number. And these photos here on the crystal cabinet are special too.” She pointed again. “That’s my mum, and my grandpa crafted this three-way mirror as an anniversary gift for my nan. This dress—”

  “Was your mother’s. It’s beautiful, Beth, but why are these things significant?” He looked at her carefully then rephrased.

  “They’re special, I can see that. Why are you sharing them with me?”

  “I wouldn’t be the same person without them. I can run my hand over almost anything in this house and recognize its texture.

  Put it all together and they make up my reality. I have an affinity with this collection of inanimate objects and I wondered what you hold close. Is it your family, something you’ve bought, an old baseball glove from your childhood…anything?”

  Her hand squeezed his as she struggled to articulate her thoughts. “You have the luxury of living among my things, but I’m not getting that same privilege and I can’t reconcile what I’ve seen and heard of you and your life so far. I’m hoping you’ll give me a bit of insight so I know what’s important and what’s just for show.”

  He shook his head.

  Shock coursed through her. “Fine.” My voice just had to wobble, didn’t it? “Keep your famous secrets, but at least tell me this. Is anything in your life real? Or is it all just smoke and mirrors?”

  “My music is real.”

  Had he just admitted that his music was the only real thing in his life? She raised one brow to prompt him to continue, but he didn’t. An odd fluttery chill teased the back of her neck and she tried to imagine what it must be like to exist in such a vacuum of superficiality.

  “If that’s what real, then I want to hear some of it from you. We can both be professional in the kitchen for a while. I’ll be a chef cooking dinner and you can be a musician”—she waved her hands as words escaped her—“providing ambience. There’s a guitar in the cupboard directly opposite ‘our’ mirror.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she headed for the rear of the house, stifling a yawn as she contemplated dinner. A note hung at a jaunty angle from her kitchen door and she damn near collapsed with relief as she read Brad’s message. Kept one container for the delivery girl. Enjoy!

  She kicked her shoes off, selected a bottle of wine from the fridge and sat down while the oven preheated.

  …

  The fabulous smell of lamb kofta filled the kitchen. Beth was surprised to find herself hunched over the bench with her head resting on her folded arms. She sat upright and looked around.

  “Good timing,” Jake said. “Here, put this on.” He wrapped one of her mother’s emboidered tablecloths around her shoulders like a cape at the hairdresser’s.

  “What’s this for?”

  His smiling face appeared in front of hers. “Dinner. You don’t want to get food on your dress, do you?”

  “No, but I’m not thrilled about wearing a straitjacket either.”

  “Have a little faith. Close your eyes.”

  “I don’t think I can. I’m a little light-headed and this seat has no back.”

  He moved, his body supporting hers from behind. His arms wrapped around her to provide extra security. “Close them.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and obeyed, the waft of her favorite wine beneath her nose making her feel strangely breathless. It was as if she was floating above the world in a warm cocoon of familiarity. Jake stirred against her lower back and a low moan climbed her throat. He’d mentioned paradise yesterday, and clearly she’d arrived.

  “What do you think?”

  “Hmm? About what?”

  “The ambience,” he said.

  I could stay here forever. Catching herself before she said those words aloud, she reached for sarcasm instead. “Well, the straitjacket and strong-arm tactics are winners for sure, but promising alcohol then not delivering might be a tad excessive.”

  The rim of a wineglass made contact with her lower lip as she spoke and he chuckled. “Ready?”

  He must’ve taken her surprised squeak as a yes because the wineglass tipped. The tiniest trickle of wine landed on her tongue and it had never tasted so good. The weird combination of comfort and deprivation had her entire body fizzing with expectation.

  Being semi-helpless intensified the joy of being in Jake’s arms, and her imagination was having a field day with the idea of trusting him to give her little doses of blind pleasure.

  “More please.”

  “Wine?”

  She nodded. “More everything.”

  The wine was delicious, and the awkward method of drinking added to the experience. Jake pushed her hair forward over one shoulder and nuzzled the soft skin below her other ear. A rush of heat between her thighs confirmed where this was going, and she relaxed as Jake moved against her back.

  “Time to change venue?”

  “To the dining room?” His tone was the epitome of innocence.

  “I’d rather eat here.”

  She arched forward, needing Jake’s hands to slide beneath her makeshift cape far more than she needed alcohol. “Enough wine. What else have you got?”

  “Lamb kofta.”

  What? “I thought—”

  One arm tightened around her, tablecloth and all, in a fierce hug, and she heard the wineglass clink against the stainless steel counter a moment before his other arm completed the embrace.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t want every memory you have of me to be one where I’m taking something from you.”

  “Like when? What did you take?”

  “Your freedom, your right to grieve alone and in private, your chance to get a bit of sleep this morning.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  He rested his chin against the crown of her head. “Enlighten me.”

  “You being here means I have someone to hold me when otherwise I’d be all alone.”

  “You’ve got your own football team, Beth.”

  “I’ve known all of those guys for years. They’re like brothers.”

/>   She thought for a moment. “Not brothers, maybe more like cousins. I have a lot of platonic friends but your arms are the only ones I want around me. I clearly haven’t just met you because I’d need to have been with you for at least six months before I’d consider getting engaged.”

  He snorted but she ignored him, her eyes closing to soak it all up.

  “Fabricating a vague history with you works for me and you ought to be glad. There’s no way you’d be living in my house, meeting my friends, or touching me without it.”

  “So you’re lying to yourself?”

  He withdrew his arms from around her and she felt the brush of his body against hers as he shifted forward. She opened her eyes to address him. “We’re both lying to the world. I’m simply looking for a way to make the lie acceptable. You have what you came for because I’m not going to have a last-minute affair with Brad, and in return I should get what I want.” Her voice cracked.

  “To be distracted for a few days.”

  He engulfed her in his arms again. “And that’s all I am? A welcome distraction?”

  No, but if that’s what you want to hear, I’ll say it. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. Temporary distractions are all we can be, because our lives are completely incompatible and we want different things.”

  His features tightened and she spelled it out. “I want a husband and children and a huge extended family to fill this house with love and laughter and endless celebrations. I know this is temporary, but while it lasts, we have a free pass to sample the fairy tale we’re selling to everyone else. I don’t want to waste it.”

  “I think you need to take a minute.”

  “I can’t take a minute. I can hardly breathe for missing my mother. My home’s always been like a haven to me, but I’m beginning to wonder how much of that feeling came from the

  house and how much from my mother. If you weren’t here…”

  “I am here.” He paused for several beats and she braced