One Week With The Best Man

Three

Gretchen made her way back up to Julian’s hotel suite the next day. This afternoon, she wasn’t as nervous as her first visit, but she still had butterflies in her stomach. She was pretty certain that last night’s kiss had something to do with it. She’d been kissed by only four men before last night, and none of them had been movie stars.

She couldn’t even sleep last night. His threat to remove her lipstick several times over lingered in her mind. He was going to kiss her again. She felt a girlish thrill run through her every time the thought crossed her mind, quickly followed by the dull ache of dread in her stomach.

There was nothing she could do about it, though. She had to live through this. It was only four days. She could make it through four days of almost anything. She knocked at his hotel room door and waited, anxiously tugging at her paisley wrap dress.

“Hey, Gretchen,” Julian said as he peeked around the door with a head of damp hair. “You’ll have to excuse me—I was running late. Come on in. I’ve just got to finish getting dressed.”

He stepped back and opened the door wider. As Gretchen entered the suite, she realized he’d been hiding his half-naked body behind the door. Just his hair wasn’t wet; all of him was. He had a bath towel slung low around his waist, but otherwise, he was very naked.

She didn’t even know what to say. As he closed the door behind her, all she could do was stare at the hard, tanned muscles she’d seen in the movies and on advertisements. His body didn’t even look real, although she could reach out and touch it. It was as if he was Photoshopped.

“Gretchen?”

She snapped her head up to see Julian watching her with amusement curling his lips into a smile. She could feel the blood rush hot into her cheeks when she realized she’d been caught. “Yes?” she said.

“Go ahead and grab a seat. I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Turning as quickly as she could, she focused on the couch, gluing her eyes to the furniture so they couldn’t stray back to Julian’s naked, wet body.

He disappeared, thankfully, into the bedroom. The moment the door closed, she felt the air rush out of her lungs. Sweet Jesus, she thought as her face dropped into her hands. She was about as smooth as chunky peanut butter. There was no doubt that Gretchen was miserably in over her head. There had to be a better person to do this than her.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he came out a few minutes later. He was wearing a pair of charcoal dress pants and a navy dress shirt that made his eyes seem as if they were an even brighter blue. “I didn’t want to leave you out in the hallway while I got dressed. I hope that was okay.”

“It’s fine,” she said dismissively. Hopefully convincingly. “It’s not like you don’t run around like that in half your movies anyway. Nothing I haven’t seen.”

He chuckled as he settled down on the couch beside her. “Yeah, most of my modesty went out the window a few years ago. Once you film a sex scene with thirty-five people watching, then millions watch it on the big screen, there’s not much left to worry about.”

“Do you do a lot of sex scenes?” Gretchen asked. She couldn’t imagine how invasive that would be. She couldn’t even work up the courage to take her clothes off in front of one man, much less a roomful.

“There’s usually one in every film. I typically save the female lead from the bad guy and she thanks me with her body. It’s always seemed a little cliché and stupid to me. You’d think someone would be too traumatized for something like that, but apparently I’m so handsome, they can’t help themselves.”

“I’m sure most women in real life couldn’t help themselves either. You’re in...excellent shape.”

He grinned wide, exposing the bright smile that charmed women everywhere. “Thank you. I work very hard to look like this, so it’s nice to be appreciated.”

“I can’t imagine what it would take.”

“I can tell you. I do high-intensity interval training four days a week and run about ten miles a day the other three. I have given up all my vices, and my trainer has me eating nothing but lean protein, vegetables and some fruits.”

Gretchen’s eyes grew larger the more he talked. That sounded miserable. No pizza, no bread, no cookies. He looked good, but what a price. “I, obviously, am not willing to put that much work in.”

“Most people aren’t, but I make my living with these abs. It’s not exactly what I’d planned when I moved to California, but it’s worked out. Even then, there are days where I’d kill for a chocolate chip cookie. Just one.”

That just seemed sad. She was no poster child for moderation, but there had to be some middle ground. “I guess the wedding cake is out, then. That’s a shame. Amelia does amazing work.”

Julian narrowed his gaze at her. “Maybe I’ll make an exception for a bite or two of her amazing cake. I’ll let you feed me some of yours so I’m not too tempted.”

She couldn’t even imagine feeding Julian cake while they sat together at the reception. That seemed so intimate, so beyond where they were together. She knew nothing about him, aside from the fact that he was out of her league.

“I need to tell you something,” she said. The words shot out of her mouth before she could stop them.

His dark brows went up curiously. “What’s that?”

“It may be painfully obvious to you, but I’m not very good with this kind of thing. I haven’t been in many relationships, so this whole situation is alien to me. I don’t know if coaching will be enough for me to pull this off.” She stopped talking and waited in the silence for him to put an end to this torture and terminate the relationship agreement. If they hurried, maybe they could find a more suitable replacement before the welcome dinner. Anyone would be better than Gretchen.

“I think that’s charming,” he said with a disarming smile. “Most of the women I know mastered flirting in kindergarten. But no worries. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“How can you teach me how to have a relationship in only a few hours if I haven’t mastered it in almost twenty-nine years?”

He leaned in and fixed his bright blue gaze on her. “I happen to be an actor,” he confided in a low voice. “A classically trained one at that. I can teach you some tricks to get through it.”

Tricks? How could a few acting drills undo fifteen years of awkwardness around men? “Like what?”

“Like reframing the scene in your mind. For one thing, you’ve got to stop thinking about who I am. That’s not going to help you relax. I want you to look at the next few days like a play. You and I are the leads. I’m no more famous than you are. We’re equals.”

“That’s a nice idea, but—”

Julian held up his hand to silence her. “No buts. We’re actors. You are a beautiful actress playing the role of my girlfriend. You’re meant to be here with me and you’re perfectly comfortable with me touching you. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Gretchen sighed. It would take more than a little role-playing for her to convince herself of that. “I’m not a beautiful actress. I can’t be.”

“And why not?” He frowned at her, obviously irritated by her stubbornness to play his game.

“To be a beautiful actress, one must first be beautiful. Only then are acting skills relevant.”

Julian narrowed his gaze at her. She squirmed under the scrutiny. They both knew she wasn’t Hollywood starlet material; there wasn’t any need to look so closely and pick apart the details of her failures.

He reached out and took her hand in his. “Did you know that Bridgette has a mustache she has to get waxed off? She’s also not really a blonde, and most of her hair is made up of extensions. Her breasts are fake. Her nose is fake. Everything about her is fake.”

“And she looks good.” The money was well invested in her career if what he said was true. If Gretchen had a couple grand just lying around, she might make a few improvements herself.

“Julia Monroe is legally blind when she isn’t wearing her contact lenses. If her makeup artist doesn’t contour her face just right, she looks like a guy after a losing boxing match.”

Julia Monroe was one of the biggest and most sought-out actresses in Hollywood. Gretchen had a hard time believing she could look anything but stunning.

“Rochelle Voight has the longest nose hairs I’ve ever seen on a woman, and her breath is always rancid. I think it’s because all she ever eats or drinks are those green juices. I hate when I have to kiss her or film close scenes.”

Was he serious? “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you need to know that it’s all an illusion. Every single one of the Hollywood beautiful people you’ve compared yourself to is a carefully crafted character designed just for the cameras. We’re far from perfect, and more than a few of us couldn’t even be described as beautiful without our makeup and hair teams.”

“You’re telling me everyone in Hollywood is secretly ugly, so I shouldn’t feel bad.”

He smirked and leaned in to drive home his point. “I’m saying you’re an attractive woman—a realistically attractive woman. You shouldn’t put yourself through the wringer comparing yourself to an unrealistic ideal. It’s all fake.”

Gretchen’s brows went up in surprise. Even with her makeover, she felt as if Julian were only tolerating her because he couldn’t get out of the arrangement. Could he actually believe what he said, or was he just trying to boost her ego enough to get them through this week together?

“Everything about me is fake, too,” he said.

It was easy to believe the women he’d spoken about were painted to perfection, but everything on Julian looked pretty darn real to her. “Come on,” she chided, pulling her hand from his. She knew he was putting her on now.

“No, I’m serious. These baby blue eyes are colored contacts. The highlights in my hair are fake. My teeth are porcelain veneers because my parents couldn’t afford braces when I was younger. My tan is sprayed on weekly. Even my accent is fake.”

“You don’t have an accent,” she argued.

“Exactly. I’m from Kentucky,” he said with an unmistakable twang he’d suppressed earlier. “I have an accent, but you’re never going to hear it from me because I hide it like everything else.”

Gretchen sat back against the cushions of the couch and tried to absorb everything he was telling her. It was a lot to take in all at once.

“We may all have fake hair and wear makeup and put ourselves through all sorts of abuses to chase the elusive beauty and youth, but we’re all actors. This is just our costume. So think of your new makeover as your costume. You’ve been given all the tools you need. Are you ready to play the role of Julian Cooper’s girlfriend?”

She took a deep breath and straightened up in her seat. “I think so.”

He cocked his head to the side and lifted a brow at her in challenge.

“I am,” she corrected with faux confidence in her voice. “Let’s do this. Where do we start?”

Julian smiled and turned to face her on the couch. “Okay. When I was in acting school, one of my professors was adamant about throwing the hardest scenes at us first. He didn’t let us warm up or start with a less challenging part. We had to open with the dramatic soliloquy. His theory was that once you did that, everything else would come easier. So we’re going to start with the hardest part of your role.”

Gretchen tensed beside him. The hardest part? It all seemed pretty challenging. She’d be much happier working her way up to the comfort level she needed to pull this off. “How are you—”

He lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers, stealing the question from her lips. Unlike their quick, passionless pecks at the restaurant the night before, this kiss packed a punch. Julian leaned into her, coaxing her mouth open and probing her with his tongue.

She wanted to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. One of his hands was at her waist and the other on her shoulder, keeping her from retreating. Closing her eyes, she remembered she was an actress playing a part. She stopped fighting it and tried to relax. Maybe she could let herself enjoy it for once.

When her tongue tentatively grazed along his, he moaned low against her mouth. The sound sent a shock wave of need through her body making her extremities tingle. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. When she’d relaxed against him, his grip on her lessened and his hands became softer and exploratory. They slid across the silky fabric of her dress, finally coming to rest as they wrapped around her waist.

Just when Gretchen had relaxed into his arms and was enjoying their experimental kiss, she felt him tug hard against her. Mercy, but he was strong. Those muscles weren’t just for show. The next thing she knew, she was in Julian’s lap, straddling him. Her dress rode up high on her thighs and she could feel the warm press of his arousal against her leg.

She almost didn’t believe it at first. Gretchen hadn’t felt many erections in her time. She hadn’t anticipated feeling one here, for sure. Could Julian really be turned on by their kiss, or was he just a very convincing actor? The concerning question startled her enough to make her break away from the kiss. The second her eyes opened, she regretted it. In the moment, things had felt right. Exhilarating and scary, but right. Once she pulled away, all she could do was look awkwardly at the man in whose lap she was sitting. It was a decidedly unladylike and bold place to be, and she wasn’t comfortable with either of those adjectives. She could feel the heat in her chest and throat and knew she was blushing crimson in her predicament.

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