Her Little White Lie (11 page)

She walked over to the crib and leaned up against the rail, not minding that the wood was digging into her ribs. She bent down and ran her hand over Ana’s fuzzy head, down her stomach. Ana sighed and wiggled beneath Paige’s hand, making a little smacking sound with her mouth.

So much perfection. So much love. So much responsibility. Paige had never succeeded at anything in her life. And she had to succeed at this.

No matter how hot the kisses, Dante Romani was just a means to an end. She couldn’t let him distract her.

And that meant no more kissing. Unless they had to. For the press or for social services.

Suddenly she felt very tired. Like a weight had come to rest on her shoulders. It was harder than she’d imagined it would be. And she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t care. Couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t pressure pushing in from all sides. Couldn’t pretend that losing would mean nothing.

Not when it would mean everything.

“I’ll do my very best, sweetie,” she whispered, an ache in her throat, a tear rolling down her face. She just hoped that for once, her best would be good enough.

P
AIGE
managed to avoid Dante for the next few days. As best as she could avoid someone when she lived with him and drove to work in the same car with him every morning.

She was definitely much more careful when trying to sneak into his room for clothes. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of herself.

She’d liked the kiss too much and she was in serious danger of longing after the man. She didn’t do the longing thing. It ended in disappointment. And sometimes humiliation. Whether it was test scores or boys, that had been her experience. Longing just made the impossible hurt more.

There was no time for longing. She had to focus on Ana, not her suddenly perky hormones.

She growled into her empty office and bent down, rummaging through the box of glass, glitter-covered ornaments and gathered a few of them in her arms, taking them over to the work space she had cleared for herself in the back of the room.

The sunlight streamed in, bright and perfect for Paige to get an idea of just how everything would glitter in the windows of Colson’s department stores at Christmastime. The Christmas designs took up so much of her year, because every year there was the pressure to do bigger, better, more intricate. She loved it.

They moved her wooden frame, the same size and shape
of a standard Colson’s window, so that it was right in the path of the sun and she started hanging the ornaments from the top with fishing line.

They caught the light, and they glinted. But it wasn’t enough. She needed flash. She needed something no one would walk by and ignore.

She dug through her big box of sparkle, as she’d dubbed it, and produced a canister of silver glitter, one of gold and some deep purple gems. She set to it.

The finished product was much better. They caught fire when the sun hit, and beneath the display lights they would be fantastic.

She brushed her hands on her black skinny jeans and grimaced when she noticed the trail of glitter she’d put down her thighs.

“You’ve been working hard.”

She turned at the sound of Dante’s voice and ignored the fact that her heart had slammed into her chest and then started pounding hard and fast.

“Eh, you know the old joke. Hardly working and all that,” she said. She wasn’t sure why she was so quick to dismiss her work, and yet, she always did. Making light of it seemed to be her default setting. She was only just noticing it, and she didn’t like it.

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” he said, crossing the threshold and moving to her work area. “I like it.”

“There will be more. The mannequins, of course. Plus, about fifty more of these hanging at different heights. Snow. A Christmas tree. This is just for one of the side-street windows. But the main window display is going to be pretty amazing. I’m excited.”

“I can tell.”

“I put a lot of work into it,” she said, for herself more than for him. “And I work really hard.”

“Of course you do, Paige, or you would hardly still be on my payroll. This will be our third Christmas with you at the
helm, and everyone has said how much higher the quality has been on the displays since then.”

“Well … thank you.”

“Tell me about the main window.”

“It’s going to be called Visions of Sugarplums. It will be a bunch of Christmas fantasies. And I think I want to have them like they’re sort of springing from a dream. So some mist and icicles and lights. Very whimsical and beautiful.”

“And all the same at each location?”

“I think each one should be slightly different,” she said. “At least the big destination stores in Paris, New York, Berlin, et cetera. So that each one is an attraction.”

“Do you have the budget for it?”

“Um, now that you mention it, I do need a slight budget increase.”

“I thought you might.”

“But you said my displays are high quality.”

“I did. How much more do you need?”

She named a sum in the several thousands and Dante didn’t bat an eye. “All right, if that’s what you need, I will make sure you have it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

She stopped and really looked at him for the first time since he’d walked in. She’d glanced at him, but she’d avoided careful study. She knew why now. Looking at him full-on was a bit like staring into the sun. He was so beautiful it made her ache. She could no more reach out and touch him, have him for her own, than she could claim a star.

It made her feel so achingly sad. Just for a moment. She didn’t have time to worry about Dante or the fact that she had the hots for him. Or the fact that, in all honesty, it felt like more than just having the hots for him.

“Ready for the couples interview?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he said, his tone sounding thoroughly unconvincing. Which was funny, because if Dante was one thing, it was certain.

“What are you worried about?”

He looked at her and arched one dark brow. “I don’t worry,
cara mia
.”

“About anything ever?”

“No.”

“What are you doing in business? You should be teaching self-help classes.”

He chuckled, a dark sound. “I don’t think I’m in much of a position to be telling people how to help themselves. I’m just very good at ignoring things I don’t want to deal with.”

It was shockingly honest, and it was also something she recognized.

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Something we have in common,” he said.

“Who would have thought?”

“Not me. Do you think it’s enough to play the part of convincing couple?” He took a step closer to her and her stomach quivered. She could taste him on her tongue, the memory of his kiss so strong it was enough to make her knees shake.

Enough to make her take a step toward him. Stupid, really, because she shouldn’t kiss him again. He didn’t even want to kiss her, she was sure. Because that first time had been a mistake. He’d said so.

He tilted his head to the side, his expression intense, as though he was studying her.

“We certainly have chemistry,” he said, his tone rough.

She laughed, shaky, nervous. “You think so?”

He nodded and took another step toward her. “Yes, and it’s a good thing, too. Many things can be faked, Paige, and some of them even quite convincingly. But the heat between us? That’s real. And no one will question it.”

“I don’t really know if one kiss constitutes as heat,” she said. “One kiss that you said was a mistake.”

His lips curved upward. “Are you challenging me?”

“No. I’m not that stupid.”

“No, you are certainly not stupid.” Strange, but that made
her chest feel warm, made her heart lift. “But you might be trying to bait me into kissing you again.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked.

“For the same reason I’m hoping you are baiting me. I’d like to kiss you again.”

“You … want to kiss me?”

He nodded.

“B-but last time you said …”

“I said it shouldn’t have happened, because we both have goals to focus on. And I think we might both find it hard to focus while we’re tangled together in bed. And that, Paige, is where a kiss like the one we shared in my bedroom leads.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to kiss you again.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Perhaps not, but in just an hour we will be interviewed as a couple, and it’s imperative we have no awkwardness between us.” He took another step toward her and she could feel his heat, smell the scent of him. Clean skin, soap. Man.

She took a step toward him. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

He reached out and put his thumb on her lip. She raised her focus, her eyes clashing with his. “I find I envy your lip,” he said.

He couldn’t possibly mean … She touched her tongue to the tip of his thumb, tasting salt, tasting Dante. Then she took a breath and a chance, and bit him gently. He closed his eyes, a rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

Emboldened, she repeated the action, biting harder this time.

He moved quickly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her up against his hard body. She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. It felt so familiar and so foreign at the same time. So wickedly exciting.

He thrust his tongue between her lips and she reciprocated, the slide and friction sending a shot of heat through
her veins. Making her breasts ache to be touched, making her feel hollow.

He put both hands on her hips and gripped her tightly, pulling her against him, letting her feel the hard jut of his arousal against her stomach.

He backed her against the desk and she adjusted so that the edge was just under her butt, supporting her weight. He moved in closer to her, parting her thighs slightly, settling between them.

He pressed his lips to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

She never wanted it to stop. She wanted more. And she didn’t want to have to look him in the face when it was over and see the same regret she’d seen last night.

The kissing was safe. The kissing was good. She wanted more of that.

But it ended, and when he pulled away, it wasn’t horror or regret she saw on his face. It was worse. It was nothing. Nothing but a smooth, beautiful, unreadable mask. Like he hadn’t just pushed her to a point she’d never reached before. Like he hadn’t introduced her to a whole new side of attraction.

Like the world hadn’t just tilted on its axis. Her world certainly had.

“That, I think, proves my point,” he said.

She wanted to hit him. Kick him in the shins. Sing a show tune. Something that would get him to react. Because his coolness, his totally unruffled state, was killing her.

“That we have chemistry? Yeah, thanks. I’m really glad I got to be a part of the experiment.” She touched her lips. They were hot. And swollen. Overly sensitive just like the rest of her body.

Dante moved slightly and she caught a glimpse of gold shimmer on his suit jacket with the movement.

She frowned. “Could you move to the light here?” She indicated the shaft of sun coming through the window.

He complied, and the order did earn her a strange look,
which, all things considered, she would take and feel somewhat satisfied with.

The light hit his front and a giggle climbed her throat, bursting from her lips. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry!”

“What?”

“Your suit.”

He looked down at the spray of golden glitter that was pressed against the entire front of his suit in a little Paige-shaped pattern.

He uttered a curse and brushed his hand over his jacket. Paige tried to hold in her laughter, and succeeded in snorting.

He gave her a dirty look.

“I’m sorry! Oh, brushing it like that isn’t going to help. Glitter is the cold sore of the craft world. It spreads easily and it’s hard to get rid of.”

“Yes,” he bit out, “thank you. I actually figured out the reference without it being explained.”

“You were the one who pulled me all up against you. I was working, as we established, and that involves …”

“It’s fine, Paige,” he said, his annoyance, probably with the whole situation, coming through now.

“I am sorry. Because that suit must have cost …”

“A lot,” he ground out, “but I have a lot so it’s not a big deal.”

Except that he was meticulous with his things to a degree she couldn’t wrap her mind around, so she knew on some level it was a big deal.

“Well, then …”

“I have some things to finish up and then I’ll meet you at the day care to pick Ana up.”

Dante had been forced to walk through the office advertising intimate contact with his own personal glitter fairy. Which, he imagined, he should be somewhat grateful for or at the very least, okay with.

She was, after all, supposed to be his fiancée, and that
meant they were expected to touch. To kiss. To have interludes in her office during the workday.

He should be fine with it, but he wasn’t, and it had nothing to do with the possible ruination of his suit and everything to do with the flashing sign on his chest that was advertising his loss of control.

There were only a few minutes left until their interview. He stepped out of a cold shower and into his bedroom. He dressed quickly, ignoring the ache in his body that reminded him that no amount of icy-cold shower could steal the desire he had for her.

He gritted his teeth and turned sharply, hitting the solid wood bedpost with his open palm. The pain, he hoped, would remind him to keep himself under control. A reminder that passion had its price. That any loss of control had a cost.

Nothing was free. Nothing was without consequence.

The sting in his palm reminded him, for a moment, of her teeth grazing over his thumb. Of the reaction that faint pain had had on his body.

He closed his eyes and hit the bedpost again, the hard wood pushing past flesh and making contact with the bone in his wrist. He lowered his hand and shook it.

There was a timid knock on his door. “Come in.”

“Oh, hi. I was wondering if you were ready?” Paige opened the door wide to reveal her and Ana. They were both dressed in pink. Paige in a bright, silk dress and Ana in pale pink one, her chubby legs swinging back and forth.