From Friend to Fake Fiancé (3 page)

“Put me down. I'm heavy.”

Halting his steps, Mac met her gaze, his face mere inches above hers. “You're not heavy, Jenna. You're perfect. I won't want to hear that from your mouth again.”

Closing her eyes, praying for the humiliation to pass, Jenna sighed. “Just put me down. I'll put some shoes on and get this mess cleaned up.”

“I can get it.”

“You're going to cut yourself,” she argued, though the point was moot now.

“Better me than you.”

He placed her on the sofa and stood back, his hands on his hips, his narrowed eyes daring her to argue. Jenna held her hands up in defeat. She wasn't fighting with him. She chose her battles wisely. Besides, she had to admit she rather liked this whole knight-to-her-rescue thing.

Moments later, once the glass was all discarded and he'd swept the floor thoroughly, Mac returned and sat on the table in front of the sofa. Straddling her legs, he reached down and placed one of her feet on his leg. When he started to examine her, she pulled her foot away.

“I'm fine. I wasn't cut.”

“You're sure?”

Jenna snorted. “I think I'd know, Mac. Calm down. Were you cut?”

He merely shrugged. The man was infuriating at times.

“You know, you could've called someone to come clean that up.”

Shaking his head, he replied, “By the time someone came, I would've been done. It's not a big deal.”

Mac O'Shea might have been a billionaire, he might have been a mysterious, powerful man, but he wasn't lazy. He worked hard and always remembered that just because someone had money didn't make them better than anyone else. His father had instilled that value in all of the kids, and Jenna admired Mac and his siblings for being so conscious of other people's feelings...unless those people crossed the line. Then the O'Sheas left no room for negotiation, if the rumors were correct. Still, overall they were good people. She knew about the charities they silently donated to. She'd overheard Mac talking on the phone once to Laney, his sister, but Jenna hadn't said a word. She was proud the family didn't boast about the fact they shared their wealth. That's what giving was all about.

The sun had sunk lower, sending a soft glow into the hut through the wide opening leading to the deck. Fatigue was starting to take over and she was running out of steam. She needed to rest up if she was going to pull off this charade for the next seven days. Who knew when Martin would arrive, and she wanted to be ready.

“I'll sleep here on the sofa,” she told Mac. “Actually, I'm so tired, I think I could pass out on that hammock out on the deck.”

Mac simply shook his head. “You're sleeping in the bed and so am I. We're adults, Jenna. We've been friends for years.”

Yeah, well, she'd never lain next to her best friend and attempted to sleep after he kissed her as if he needed her more than air. How could she sleep if his hard body brushed against hers in the middle of the night? What if she rolled over and her parts touched his parts? Because then a new level of awkward would settle in and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Whatever you're worried about, stop.” His demand was loud and clear. “Go to bed. I'll be in later.”

Yeah, that's precisely what she worried about.

Three

“W
e may have found something.”

Mac sat up straighter and glanced toward the closed bedroom door where Jenna had disappeared over an hour ago.

“The scrolls?” he asked his associate Ryker in a hushed tone. But Ryker was so much more than an associate. He was a brother, a friend, an enforcer. He might not share the same blood, but he was practically family.

And he'd found information on the infamous scrolls. The nine pieces of family heritage they'd been chasing for decades. Their ancestor was an Irish monk who'd been chosen to transcribe Shakespeare's early works. The scrolls were invaluable...and still missing. They'd been in the O'Shea family up until they'd lost everything in the Great Depression, then they'd vanished.

Under the direction of their father, they'd followed countless leads. Once Patrick had passed and Braden had taken control, he'd gone to the point of origin at an old estate in Boston that used to be owned by the O'Sheas. The scrolls were last known to be there, yet his family was still on a damn wild goose chase. Granted, had he not gone to the starting point, Braden never would've met Zara, the love of his life. Zara now owned the home which used to be in their family. Even she had searched her home, but nothing had turned up.

Mac, his brother Braden and their sister Laney were ready to fulfill their late father's request and find these missing heirlooms, but so far they'd had no luck. Ryker, the go-to guy who was more like a brother than an employee, had proved himself to be relentless in finding the scrolls, in fulfilling a dying man's wish—no matter where in the world he had to follow the trail.

“I'm actually boarding the jet now,” Ryker stated. “I'll be heading to Chicago on a tip from McCormick's.”

McCormick's. If the O'Sheas worried about rivals, McCormick's would be top of the list. But, Mac's family had been in the industry much longer and had far longer reaches into that world...both political and civilian. That, coupled with everything they had going on behind the scenes, definitely made them the most sought-out auction house in the world. They could get the job done, fly under the legal radar and have transactions completed quickly and efficiently. Their clients never knew the details of how things were handled, they only knew O'Shea's was discreet and got things done.

“Is this tip from a reliable source?” Mac asked.

“Reliable enough,” Ryker said. “I'll keep you posted, but Braden was busy at some event with Zara and they couldn't be bothered, so I had to act fast. Where are you, anyway? Still in Barcelona?”

Mac came to his feet and glanced out the open doorway toward the inky water, shimmering only slightly from the moon peeking from behind the clouds. Bora Bora was one of the most beautiful places on the planet...it was also one of the most romantic. Not that he did the whole candlelight-on-the-beach kind of thing. He was more of a slam the bedroom door with his foot as he plastered a willing woman against the wall and claimed her type of guy.

“I'm in Bora Bora with Jenna. She had a family emergency.” Sort of. “I'll be home in a week, but let me know as soon as you discover anything, no matter how minor.”

“Will do.”

Mac disconnected the call and gripped his cell in his hand. Every time there was another lead, he got anxious. After years of letdowns, Mac knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, but all of this searching had to pay off at some point, didn't it? Because none of them would stop until these scrolls were found. Unfortunately, Patrick O'Shea had passed before he could fulfill that vow. The heart attack that claimed his father was sudden. He'd gone in for surgery, knowing there was a risk, but it was his only option for survival. They'd lost him on the table.

Mac didn't know if he'd ever get used to the idea of his father not being around. Then again, he didn't want to get used to the loss. He wanted to remember his father for the powerful, loving family man he was. He may have been a hard-ass outside his inner circle, he may have had more blood on his hands than a corrupt politician, but Patrick O'Shea was loyal to those close to him. Mac missed that man every minute of every day and would continue to honor his father's legacy and work with his siblings to make the O'Shea name as reputable as ever.

With his mind spinning in so many directions, Mac was too wound up to go to bed. Well, he was too wound up to sleep. Getting between the sheets with Jenna right now wouldn't be wise. He wanted her so damn bad, with a fierceness he'd not allowed himself to feel before. She wasn't ready, though.

His priority for the next few days was to make Jenna smile, to make her life worry-free and to get her to see just how easy it would be to be intimate and still be friends. He wasn't looking for a lifetime commitment; they were already best friends and that was about as close to someone as he was willing to get.

Given the family business, he was used to keeping certain things close to his chest. He didn't want to get too involved with anyone because he doubted there was a woman in the world who would put up with his lies. And he would lie to Jenna—he
had
lied to her. He had no choice with his lifestyle, and he wasn't about to apologize for it.

He'd been born an O'Shea, born into a world that was glamorous, powerful and, more often than not, deceitful. He was proud of his name, dirty rumors be damned. Because, overall, the name O'Shea brought prestige and power. No one questioned them to their faces. And Mac would stop at nothing to help fulfill his father's dying wish in getting back the scrolls. At all costs. They'd been missing long enough and he wanted to be the one to bring them back to their rightful place.

Turning back around, Mac eyed the bedroom door once again. Was she asleep? Was she tossing and turning? Was she fantasizing about the offer he'd given? One way to find out. Stripping off his shirt, Mac tossed it to the sofa and padded toward the bedroom. No matter what she was doing, Mac was going in. He wasn't tired, but there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. A smile spread across his face as he unbuttoned his shorts, slid the zipper down and let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and slowly turned the knob.

Wearing only his black boxer briefs, Mac entered the darkened room, took in the curvy shape beneath the sheet and headed to the other side of the bed. After flipping his phone to silent, he placed it on the bedside table and sank onto the edge of the bed.

Behind him the sheets rustled and Mac had a hard time not letting his imagination run away with him. He'd never had a sleepover with Jenna before. Oh, she'd fallen asleep during a movie several times when he visited her or she came to his place. But Mac had never spent the night with her and she certainly hadn't been planning on him sleeping in her room, so had she packed adequate pajamas? Did she sleep in the nude? All those lush curves, begging to be touched...

Mac eased back onto his pillow, crossed his ankles, laced his hands over his bare abdomen and stared up at the ceiling. The blades of the fan whirled in a slow, steady circle, giving off just enough of a light breeze to make the sheer curtains billow in front of the open window. The perfect setting for relaxation. For seduction. If this were any other woman, Mac wouldn't put forth so much effort, but he knew full well that being with Jenna would be worth the wait and definitely worth the exercise in self-control.

A soft moan filled the silence of the room as Jenna shifted beneath the sheet again. Apparently she had fallen asleep, but she was restless. Good. Selfishly, he wanted her to be on edge, to be aching because he sure as hell was lying here in a state of...well, he couldn't quite put the proper term to it.

Another moan escaped Jenna, this one louder, longer. Mac clenched his fists at his side. She was dreaming. His ego liked to think she was dreaming of him, of his proposition. The thought of her with another man irritated him, but he had no permanent claim on Jenna. Wanting intimacy with someone was completely different than wanting a happily-ever-after.

His eyes adjusted even more to the darkened room as he rolled over to watch her. A sheen of sweat covered her face; her lips were parted just enough to be even sexier than usual. The sheet slid down as she shifted again. What the hell was she wearing? Was that...yeah, she was wearing some type of maxi dress. Why?

Mac eased the sheet the rest of the way down her body. No wonder she was sweating. As soon as that layer was off, he stood and reached for the fan control, to kick it up on high. When he turned back to the bed, that long dress had ridden up on Jenna's thighs. Mercy, the woman was killing him.

He knew she was insecure about her body. They'd never talked about it because he wouldn't give that negativity any attention. To him, Jenna was absolutely perfect. He didn't want her to believe her shape defined her. There had to be some way to make her see herself the way he did. To realize that she was a voluptuous, stunning siren and she was valuable to anyone who took the time to appreciate her.

Jenna rolled to her side, facing him. Mac watched the swell of her breast threaten to move over the boundary of the scoop neck of the dress. A tan line ran up around her neck—he resisted the urge to run his finger along the pale skin.

That damn kiss had completely messed with his mind. While he'd always found her sexy as hell, now that he'd fully tasted her, he could think of nothing but tasting her again. For years he'd thrown out one sexual innuendo after another, but he wasn't kidding any longer. That kiss had changed something in him and as soon as he knocked her guard down and made her his, he could eradicate her from his system and they could circle back to this friendship thing.

Before he could roll away, her lids fluttered open, her eyes locking on to his. She blinked as she licked her lips, her hand moving up to adjust the top of her dress.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked, her voice husky.

“You were dreaming.” He wasn't about to answer her question. “And moaning.”

Her eyes widened, then closed briefly before she met his gaze once again. “Did I wake you up?”

Mac shifted on his side more, propping his elbow on the pillow, his head in his hand. “I just came in here. You're sweating and wearing a dress to bed. Care to tell me why?”

The second he mentioned the dress, she jerked and adjusted the material back down. “I didn't have proper pajamas for a bedmate and I certainly didn't plan on you being in my bedroom with me.”

Mac swallowed and fisted the sheet in front of him. “What did you pack?”

“Doesn't matter.”

Stubborn to a fault. No wonder they got along so well. The push-pull part of their relationship was half the fun.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked.

When she hesitated, he knew. Good. He liked knowing he was in her thoughts when she wasn't fully in control.

“Nothing much,” she replied, her eyes darting away.

“With moans like that? I'd say it was something pretty amazing.”

Jenna rolled over the other way, threw her legs over the side and offered him her back. “Drop it, Mac.”

Such emotion for someone who wasn't dreaming of anything major. He was getting to her, already she was thinking of them together. Seducing her would be a cinch. But he didn't want to just seduce her, he wanted her to come to him.

“Change your clothes.” When she glanced over her shoulder, he added, “You're hot, you're uncomfortable and you need to rest. Whatever you brought to sleep in, I think I can handle it.”

After a moment, she nodded. She went to the chest of drawers, got something out and disappeared into the bathroom. A sliver of light slid from beneath the door and Mac had to force himself not to march in there and take what they both wanted. He only had a week, but he'd give her another day to come to terms with the fact they would be sleeping together in every sense of the word. Lying beside her would be a new test in self-control, but this was his Jenna and she deserved to be treated with respect.

So he'd lie here and be the perfect gentleman...for now. This would be completely new territory for him, but he was willing to make the sacrifice for an epic end result.

When Jenna came back out, he couldn't tell what she'd put on until she passed by the open window and the soft moonlight flickered across her body. The image lasted only a second, but long enough that he was reevaluating this gentlemanly decision. She wore a silk chemise that hugged her every hollow and curve. The lace trim around the dip just above her backside teased him. What would she do if he ran his finger beneath that edge? If he slid one of those thin, silky straps off her shoulder and showed her how good he could make her feel? Would she prefer the real thing to her dreams?

As she slipped in beside him, Mac gritted his teeth and wished like hell he'd opted to sleep on the deck in the hammock. If he left now, though, she'd have the upper hand and he never gave up control that easily.

“Good night, Mac.”

Facing the opposite direction, Jenna slid the sheet up and over her shoulders as if she wanted an extra layer of defense. A sheet and a piece of satin wouldn't keep him away, but the fact she was so special to him would. Tomorrow was another day and all of this playing around in pretend-lovers' bliss would get to her. He'd make damn sure of it.

* * *

Okay, she'd done it. She'd made it through one night sleeping next to Mac and she'd even put on the chemise she'd packed. She loved barely there lingerie, it always made her feel sexy. Unfortunately, she'd risked putting silk and lace on with only one man, years ago...and that plan had backfired. She refused to make that mistake again.

Fortunately it had been dark last night and Mac hadn't seen her. This morning she'd gotten out of bed before him and could sneak off to shower and throw on another sundress before he got up. She'd thought for sure he'd sleep on the pull-out couch when she'd asked him to meet her here. Never would she have thought he'd use this situation to get closer to her...she should've known better.