The Pretend Girlfriend (38 page)

Sweat soon slicked them both, making them glisten in the light.

And then Aiden picked her up, still inside her, standing with enough force to send the chair wheeling away from them. Her ankles locked behind his back, holding them together.

He carried her over to the desk, clearing it off with one sweep of his arm. The polished surface was cold against her back, but she hardly even noticed.

Their loving became more urgent, Aiden’s thrusts coming hard and fast.

Her back arched up off the desk as she crested the top of her climax and then fell into the waves of bliss threatening to pummel her body to little quivering pieces.

Aiden followed her over that drop, kissing her neck, his hot, gasping breaths ragged with the intensity of it.

And then the tension leaked out of them both and Gwen was grateful for the coolness of the desk.

“I should take your things more often,” Gwen said.

“Any time,” Aiden replied, his chest and shoulders heaving as he struggled to regain his breath. She ran her hands along the well-defined muscles, relishing the feeling of it.

She wanted that moment to last forever.

"S
o, what now?" Gwen said. She sat on a barstool at the island in his kitchen. She had to sit gingerly to avoid the shocks of pain that came with sitting normally. Just thinking about the source of that ache sent heat through her chest and a blush to her cheeks.

Turning from the counter where he was preparing their breakfast, he said, "We should get out of here." When he saw her flushed face, he smiled, winked, and turned back to the parfaits.

That didn't help dispel the heat.

It wasn't fair that messy hair looked good on a guy. Of course, his hair was all nicely tousled like that because of the way she'd kept running her fingers through it while he...

"Here you go," Aiden said, putting the dishes down on the island and sitting down next to her.

"But how are we getting out? There are probably sneaky people with cameras all over the place. And a helicopter. We can't forget about the helicopter." She stuck her spoon into the dish and swirled the parfait around, lost in thought.

They'd checked the windows earlier, and there were indeed people with cameras waiting out on the sidewalk. And when Aiden placed a call to the concierge desk, they told him the vans had been out front all night, shifting parking spots to avoid the meter maids.

Basically, they were under siege. Except instead of catapults and boiling oil the invading army down there had DSLR cameras and instant access to the internet for uploading their spoils.

And they did need to get out. While it was so nice to hang out with him like this (
I mean, he's prepared every meal so far
, Gwen thought) they both felt the initial symptoms of cabin fever. And this was yet another night spent not doing any schoolwork!

Besides, they had run out of condoms. Gwen's blush grew brighter at that. Although, she also felt more than a little pleased with their performance and multiple encores.

Aiden clinked his spoon lightly against his dish, his eyes going glassy with thought. "I have an idea."

"Do tell," Gwen said.

It took them about an hour after that to get ready. Ready-getting consisted mostly of getting clean and dressed. That was the beauty of Aiden's plan; it was simple. Elegant, if Gwen wanted to use a slightly more expensive word.

So down to the lobby they went, the ride in the elevator smooth and quiet. Gwen drank in that silence and solitude, knowing that soon both would be shattered.

"Don't worry. This will work," Aiden said. He'd called the taxi company already, and the dispatcher said the car would be ready. They just had to get to it.

"Don't let go," Gwen said when he took her hand. They reached the ground floor and the door slid open with a soft chime.

The doorman and the concierge hadn't let any of the loiterers into the building, so the lobby was mostly empty. Still, as Gwen and Aiden walked towards the door, Gwen couldn't help feeling like she was in a zombie movie, moving towards the wall of flesh eating monsters waiting on the other side of the glass.

And the reporters and photographers seemed just as ravenous as the living dead. As soon as one caught sight of the approaching couple, they all turned as one. Gwen flinched as the flashes started going off. She hoped she looked okay. Since she'd spent the night and washed, she didn't have any makeup on. Aiden didn't have any, of course. Although when she voiced her concerns, he'd told her that she looked "Fantastic." That had really helped then, but now that she was staring down the proverbial barrel of the gun, she didn't feel so certain anymore.

Just imagine the pictures!
Gwen thought. And she didn't want to think of what they would say when they saw her wearing the same clothes as the day before. Her parents were going to die of embarrassment and shock.

Sensing her hesitation, Aiden gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Uh, I wouldn't go out there, sir," the doorman said, eying the two of them as they came closer.

"But it's such a beautiful day out! Shame to waste it," Aiden said, smiling at the man until he smiled back.

Aiden looked so calm and relaxed, like he went out to confront mobs of gossip-hungry reporters every day of his life.

Except Gwen knew he wasn't nearly so relaxed at that. His hand shook slightly in her grip, and she knew him well enough by now to see the strain in his jaw.

They could be nervous, Gwen knew, so long as they were nervous together. "I think I see it!" she said, pointing.

The yellow taxi had double parked beside a satellite van, the impetuous driver leafing through a newspaper while a growing line of traffic expressed their frustrations in honks and shouts behind him. Gwen hoped it was him, anyway. Sometimes you couldn't tell with these New York taxi drivers.

"Ready?" Aiden asked.

"No," the doorman answered. Aiden ignored him.

Gwen swallowed the lump back down her throat while she surveyed her adversaries. There was a woman who looked vaguely familiar just to Gwen's left on the other side of the door. Curly black hair hanging in ringlets down to the padded shoulders of her jacket, too much blush and lipstick, and a nose pointy enough to cut glass. She waited idly while berating her slightly overweight cameraman.

The rest of the crowd didn't look any nicer. And Gwen also thought she saw the paparazzo from yesterday, holding his big expensive camera up above the heads of the crowd to snap some candid shots.
How much is Henry paying these people?
Gwen wondered.

"Yes," she said. She didn't feel ready, but the longer they stood at the lip of the shark tank as it were, the more nervous and anxious she became. Best to just get it over with.

"If you will," Aiden said, nodding to the doorman.

"My condolences," the doorman replied. But he did indeed open the door.

Immediately, the dull murmurs of the conversations outside turned to an indistinguishable roar.

Aiden started forward into the line of microphones and cameras shoved through the doorway, stopping when Gwen stood her ground.

"It will be fine. Don't let him win, Gwen. Don't let him get to you."

Again, those lovely eyes of his did it for her. Aiden was right; this was just what Henry wanted and expected. Wasn't the best way to get revenge to let go of your anger, or something like that? Gwen couldn't remember exactly, but it was the sentiment that counted.

So, straightening her posture and plastering a look on her face that she hoped said, "Yes, I'm not wearing makeup. No, I don't care; don't you see the beautiful man whose arm I'm hanging off?"

This time, when Aiden urged her forward, she followed him into the breach.

"Aiden, how much did you pay? Was it fun?" the curly-haired woman asked, thrusting her mic in his face while the cameraman adjusted his focus.

"However much it was, it wasn't enough," Aiden replied. It left the woman gaping.

Gwen felt shocked at first, but when she saw the amusement on his face, she couldn't help but smile, too.

"Miss? Gwen Browning, do you have any comment?" a greasy-haired guy said, holding up a recorder.

"Nice to meet you. Lovely day, isn't it?" Gwen replied. She kept on walking, saying, "Hi, how are you?" "Lovely weather, isn't it?" and "I hear it's supposed to rain later."

The mob was dumbfounded. Clearly, they'd been expecting something of a media massacre when Aiden and his "escort" showed their faces in public.

They were so confused that they actually parted around the apparently happy and loving couple, giving them the path they needed to get to the taxi.

"Toodles," Gwen said, waving as she swung herself into the back seat of the cab, Aiden holding the door for her.

He slid in beside her and slammed the door shut, telling the driver to just drive and that they would give him more specific directions later.

Gwen couldn't hold it in any longer. She laughed, "That was amazing! I don't even know exactly what happened back there, but wow."

Aiden leaned his head back against the rest and closed his eyes. His performance had been just as admirable, but it had also taken a lot out of him. He smiled. "With the right attitude, you can get into any place. Or out of any place."

"Harvard?" Gwen asked.

"
Sex and the City
," Aiden replied. When he saw her expression he shrugged, "What? HBO is amazing!"

Their getaway wasn't clean, however. Several of the vans had pulled away from the curb and were following them as closely as they could in the morning rush traffic.

"So what now, genius?" Gwen said.

"Now we wait," Aiden replied, folding his hands behind his head.

"For what?"

"You'll see. Just wait. All things come to those who wait."

And with that maddeningly cryptic comment, the conversation in the car died. Somehow, they'd gotten the only cabbie in New York who didn't want to talk the whole time.

It wasn't until they pulled out onto a busier street that Aiden's plan came to fruition. Gwen kept watching behind them, staring hopelessly as the media vans jockeyed for position, drawing ever closer to Gwen and Aiden's taxi.

Then traffic stopped. Gridlock as usual. The formerly flowing river of taxis ground to a honking halt, dammed by a series of red lights all the way up to the boulevard.

"See?" Aiden said.

"A rush hour traffic jam was your plan? I'm going to nominate you for a Nobel prize, Einstein."

"Ye of little faith. Come on, let's go. Here, keep the change," Aiden said, passing a bill through the little pay drawer.

"What? Are you crazy?" Gwen said, watching wide-eyed as Aiden stepped out of the cab and onto the dotted line between this lane and the next.

"Afraid of getting hit by a parked car or something? Just come on out. Trust me."

She accepted his hand and found herself out on the road with him. The exhaust of hundreds of cars stung her eyes and left her throat scratchy.

Aiden led them forward, down the middle of the road, walking past all the cars. Drivers and passengers alike stopped honking momentarily to watch the crazy people lane splitting in the middle of rush hour.

And the funny thing was, it worked. The media vans blasted their horns and rode the bumpers of the taxis in front of them, but could come no closer.

When the reporters got out of their vehicles to follow on foot, they had to haul their expensive equipment with them, yelling at their cameramen to hurry it up.

But by then, Aiden and Gwen had reached the edge of the traffic jam, climbed into another taxi, and made their escape.

The media vans dwindled in the distance as their cab pulled away. Then the vans disappeared as they turned the corner.

"Did we lose them?" Gwen asked. It was a sentence she thought she'd never speak seriously in real life.

And sat next to her, calm, cool, and collected as Bond, Aiden nodded sagely. "For now, yeah. But they're not stupid; they probably managed to get number of this cab."

"Where you guys goin', anyway?" the driver broke in, glancing at them in the rear-view mirror. He'd been surprisingly calm and nonchalant when the two of them had sat down in his back seat even though he'd been waiting in the middle lane for the light to change. He wore an olive green knitted cap and spoke like he'd grown up over on Staten Island.

"Macy's," Aiden said. When Gwen shot him a questioning look, he responded, "I think a change of clothes is in order."

"Hey!" Gwen said, feeling defensive, "It's not like I knew I was going to be staying over at your place and would need some. Besides," she said, tugging at the neckline of her dress and sniffing it, "It's not bad. Just a few wrinkles..." she stopped when she saw Aiden's grin.

"That's not what I meant. We need to change clothes to keep the cameras off us. They know what we're wearing."

Gwen's cheeks burned. You weren't supposed to let the guy know that you might actually sweat sometimes, were you? "Oh," she replied, choosing to keep quiet to avoid embarrassing herself further.

"Everything's fine from this angle," the driver said, grinning when Gwen glared at him.

Macy's wasn't that far from Aiden's condo. Although, when Gwen really thought about it, Manhattan itself wasn't that big of a place anyway. It was the traffic that could make it take hours to get from one point to another.

When they finally arrived, the driver accepted Aiden's cash and said, "Don't you folks worry; I won't tell 'em where I dropped you off."

They went into Macy's quickly, Gwen looking up and down the street, expecting to see another clever paparazzo pop out of the scenery and begin snapping pictures.

As soon as they went in, a wall of mingled perfume smells slammed into them. Aiden rubbed at his eyes, while Gwen smiled. Department stores were great.

Still self-conscious about that embarrassing moment in the taxi, she accepted a sample spritz of some new celebrity scent being doled out by a model wearing too much eye liner. Gwen rubbed her wrists together, then touched her wrists to her neck.