Best Friend Bride
Back on track, she smiled at the friend she was about to marry. They were friends with benefits that had nothing to do with sex. A point she definitely needed to keep in the forefront of her brain.
A lady in a puke-green suit approached them and verified they were the happy couple, then ran down the order of the ceremony. If this had been a real marriage, Viv might be a little disappointed in the lack of fanfare. In less than a minute, traditional organ music piped through the overhead speakers and the lady shoved a drooping bouquet at Viv. She clutched it to her chest, wondering if she’d get to keep it. One flower was enough. She’d press it into a book as a reminder of her wedding to a great man who treated her with nothing but kindness and respect.
Jonas walked her down the aisle, completely unruffled. Of course. Why would he be nervous? This was all his show and he’d always had a supreme amount of confidence no matter the situation.
His friend Warren stood next to an elderly man holding a Bible. Jonas halted where they’d been told to stand and glanced at her with a reassuring smile.
“Dearly beloved,” the man began and was immediately interrupted by a commotion at the back. Viv and Jonas both turned to see green-suit lady grappling with the door as someone tried to get into the room.
“Sir, the ceremony has already started,” she called out to no avail as the man who must be Hendrix Harris easily shoved his way inside and joined them at the front.
Yep. He looked just like the many, many pictures she’d seen of him strewn across the media, and not just because his mother was running for governor. Usually he had a gorgeous woman glued to his side and they were doing something overly sensual, like kissing as if no one was watching.
“Sorry,” he muttered to Jonas. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he’d slept in his expensively tailored shirt and pants.
“Figured you’d find a way to make my wedding memorable,” Jonas said without malice, because that’s the kind of man he was. She’d have a hard time being so generous with someone who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.
The officiant started over, and in a few minutes, she and Jonas exchanged vows. All fake, she chanted to herself as she promised to love and cherish.
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant said with so little inflection that it took a minute for it to sink in that he meant Jonas could kiss her. Her pulse hit the roof.
Somehow, they hadn’t established what would happen here. She glanced at Jonas and raised a brow. Jonas hesitated.
“This is the part where you kiss her, idiot,” Hendrix muttered with a salacious grin.
This was her one chance, the only time she had every right to put her lips on this man, and she wasn’t missing the opportunity. The other people in the room vanished as she flattened her palms on Jonas’s lapels. He leaned in and put one hand on her jaw, guiding it upward. His warmth bled through her skin, enlivening it, and then her brain ceased to function as his mouth touched hers.
Instantly, that wasn’t enough and she pressed forward, seeking more of him. The kiss deepened as his lips aligned properly and oh, yes, that was it.
Her crush exploded into a million little pieces as she tasted what it was like to kiss Jonas. That nice, safe attraction she had been so sure she could hide gained teeth, slicing through her midsection with sharp heat. The dimensions of sensation opened around her, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of how truly spectacular it would feel if he didn’t stop.
But he did stop, stepping back so quickly that she almost toppled over. He caught her forearms and held her steady...though he looked none too steady himself, his gaze enigmatic and heated in a way she’d never witnessed before.
Clearly that experience had knocked them both for a loop. What did you say to someone you’d just kissed and who you wanted to kiss again, but really, that hadn’t been part of the deal?
“That was nice,” Jonas murmured. “Thanks.”
Nice was not the word on her mind. So they were going to pretend that hadn’t just happened, apparently.
Good. That was exactly what they should do. Treat it like a part of the ceremony and move on.
Except her lips still tingled, and how in the world was Jonas just standing there holding her hand like nothing momentous had occurred? She needed to learn the answer to that, stat. Especially if they were going to be under the same roof. Otherwise, their friendship—and this marriage—would be toast the second he clued in to how hot and bothered he got her. He’d specifically told her that he could trust her because they were friends and he needed her to be one.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant intoned, completely oblivious to how the earth had just swelled beneath Viv’s feet.
Jonas turned and led her back up the aisle, where they signed the marriage license. They ended up in the same vestibule they’d been in minutes before, but now they were married.
Her signature underneath Jonas’s neat script made it official, but as she’d expected, it was just a piece of paper. The kiss, on the other hand? That had shaken her to the core.
How was she going to stop herself from angling for another one?
“Well,” Hendrix said brightly. “I’d say this calls for a drink. I’ll buy.”
Two
Jonas had never thought of his six-thousand-square-foot penthouse condo as small. Until today. It was full of Viviana Dawson. Er, Kim. Viviana Kim. She’d officially changed her name at the Department of Motor Vehicles, and soon, she’d have a new driver’s license that said she had the legal right to call herself that. By design. His sense of honor wouldn’t permit him to outright lie about his relationship with Viv; therefore, she was Mrs. Kim in every sense of the word.
Except one.
The concept was surreal. As surreal as the idea that she was his wife and he could introduce her as such to anyone who asked.
Except for himself apparently because he was having a hard time thinking of her that way no matter how many times he repeated the word wife when he glimpsed her through the archway leading to the kitchen. Boxes upon boxes covered every inch of the granite countertops, and though she’d been working on unpacking them for an hour, it looked like she’d barely made a dent.
He should quit skulking around and get in there to help. But he hadn’t because he couldn’t figure out how to manage the weird vibe that had sprung up between them.
That kiss.
It had opened up a Pandora’s box that he didn’t know how to close. Before, he’d had a sort of objective understanding that Viv was a beautiful woman whose company he enjoyed.
Ever since the ceremony, no more. There was a thin veil of awareness that he couldn’t shake. But he needed to. They were living together as friends because she’d agreed to a favor that didn’t include backing her up against the counter so he could explore her lush mouth.
He liked Viv. Add a previously undiscovered attraction and she was exactly the kind of woman he’d studiously avoided for nearly a decade. The kind he could easily envision taking him deeper and deeper until he was emotionally overwhelmed enough to give up everything.
The problem of course being that he couldn’t stop calling her, like he usually did with women who threatened his vow. He’d married this one.
He was being ridiculous. What was he, seventeen? He could handle a little spark between friends, right? Best way to manage that was to ignore it. And definitely not let on that he’d felt something other than friendly ever since kissing her.
All he and Viv had to do was live together until he could convince his grandfather to go through with the merger anyway. Once the two companies signed agreements, neither would back out and Jonas was home free. Since he was covering Viv’s rent until then, she could move back into her apartment at that point.
This plan would work, and soon enough, he could look back on it smugly and pinpoint the exact moment when he’d outsmarted his grandfather.
Casually, he leaned on the exposed-brick column between the dining room and the kitchen and crossed his arms like everything was cool between them. It would be cool. “What can I do?”
Viv jerked and spun around to face him, eyes wide. “You scared me. Obviously.”
Her nervous laugh ruffled his spine. So they were both feeling the weirdness, but it was clearly different weirdness on her side than on his. She was jumpy and nervous, not hot and bothered. He had not seen that coming. That was...not good. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. We’ve both been living alone for so long that I guess we have to get through an adjustment period.”
Which was the opposite of what he’d expected. They’d always been so relaxed with each other. How could they get back to that?
She nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
Was it that bad? Her forlorn voice tripped something inside him and it was not okay that she was uncomfortable around him now. “Best way to adjust is to spend time together. Let me help you put away these...” He grabbed a square glass dish from the counter. “Pans?”
“Pyrex.” She smiled and it seemed like it came easier. “I can’t imagine you care anything about where I put my bakeware.”
He waggled his brows. “That depends on whether that’s something you use to make cupcakes or not.”
Her cupcakes weren’t like the store-bought ones in the hard plastic clamshells. Those tasted like sugared flour with oily frosting. Viv’s lemon cupcakes—a flavor he’d never have said he’d like—had a clean, bright taste like she’d captured lemonade in cake form.
“It’s not. Casseroles.”
“Not a fan of those.” He made a face before he thought better of it.
Maybe she loved casseroles and he was insulting her taste. And her cooking skills. But he’d never said one word about her whipping up dinner for him each night, nor did he expect her to. She knew that. Right?
They had so much to learn about each other, especially if they were going to make this marriage seem as real as possible to everyone, except select few people they could trust, like Warren and Hendrix. If word got back to his grandfather that something wasn’t kosher, the charade would be over.
And he’d invested way too much in this marriage to let it fail now.
His phone beeped from his pocket, and since the CEO never slept, he handed over the glass dish to check the message.
Grandfather. At 6:00 a.m. Seoul time. Jonas tapped the message. All the blood drained from his head.
“Jonas, what’s wrong?” Viv’s palm came to rest on his forearm and he appreciated the small bit of comfort even as it stirred things it shouldn’t.
“My grandfather. My dad told him that we got married.” Because Jonas had asked him to. The whole point had been to circumvent his grandfather’s arranged-marriage plan. But this—
“Oh, no. He’s upset, isn’t he?” Viv worried her lip with her teeth, distracting him for a moment.
“On the contrary,” Jonas spit out hoarsely. “He’s thrilled. He’s so excited to meet you, he got on a plane last night. He’s here. In Raleigh. Best part? He talked my dad into having a house party to welcome you into the family. This weekend.”
It was a totally unforeseen move. Wily. He didn’t believe for a second that his grandfather was thrilled with Jonas’s quick marriage or that the CEO of one of the largest conglomerates in Korea had willingly walked away from his board meetings to fly seven thousand miles to meet his new granddaughter-in-law.
This was something else. A test. An “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maybe Grandfather scented a whiff of the truth and all it would take was one slipup before he’d pounce. If pressed, Jonas would feel honor bound to be truthful about Viv’s role. The marriage could be history before dark.
A healthy amount of caution leaped into Viv’s expression. “This weekend? As in we have two days to figure out how to act like a married couple?”
“Now you’re starting to see why my face looks like this.” He swirled an index finger near his nose, unbelievably grateful that she had instantly realized the problem. “Viv, I’m sorry. I had no idea he was going to do this.”
The logistics alone... How could he tell his mom to give them separate bedrooms when they were essentially still supposed to be in the honeymoon phase? He couldn’t. It was ludicrous to even think in that direction when what he should be doing was making a list of all the ways this whole plan was about to fall apart. So he could mitigate each and every one.
“Hey.”
Jonas glanced up as Viv laced her fingers with his as if she’d done it many times, when in fact she hadn’t. She shouldn’t. He liked it too much.
“I’m here,” she said, an echo of her sentiment at the wedding ceremony. “I’m not going anywhere. My comment wasn’t supposed to be taken as a ‘holy cow how are we going to do this.’ It was an ‘oh, so we’ve got two days to figure this out.’ We will.”
There was literally no way to express how crappy that made him feel. Viv was such a trouper, diving into this marriage without any thought to herself and her own sense of comfort and propriety. He already owed her so much. He couldn’t ask her to fake intimacy on top of everything else.
Neither did he like the instant heat that crowded into his belly at the thought of potential intimate details. He couldn’t fake intimacy either. It would feel too much like lying.
The only way he could fathom acting like he and Viv were lovers would be if they were.
“You don’t know my grandfather. He’s probably already suspicious. This house party is intended to sniff out the truth.”
“So?” She shrugged that off far too easily. “Let him sniff. What’s he going to find out, that we’re really legally married?”
“That the marriage is in name only.”
To drive the point home, he reached out to cup Viv’s jaw and brought her head up until her gaze clashed with his, her mouth mere centimeters away from his in an almost-kiss that would be a real one with the slightest movement. She nearly jumped out of her skin and stumbled back a good foot until she hit the counter. And then she tried to keep going, eyes wide with...something.
“See?” he said. “I can’t even touch you without all sorts of alarms going off. How are we going to survive a whole weekend?”
“Sorry. I wasn’t—” She swallowed. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. So clearly the answer is that we need to practice.”
“Practice what?” And then her meaning sank in. “Touching?”
“Kissing, too.” Her chest rose and fell unevenly as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “You said we would best get through the adjustment period by spending time together. Maybe we should do that the old-fashioned way. Take me on a date, Jonas.”
Speechless, he stared at her, looking for the punch line, but her warm brown eyes held nothing but sincerity. The idea unwound in his gut with a long, liquid pull of anticipation that he didn’t need any help interpreting.
A date with his wife. No, with Viv. And the whole goal would be to get her comfortable with his hands on her, to kiss her at random intervals until it was so natural, neither of them thought anything of it.
Crazy. And brilliant. Not to mention impossible.
“Will you wear a new dress?” That should not have been the next thing out of his mouth. No would be more advisable when he’d already identified a great big zone of danger surrounding his wife. But yes was the only answer if he wanted to pull off this plan.
She nodded, a smile stealing over her face. “The only caveat is no work. For either of us. Which means I get dessert that’s not cupcakes.”
Oddly, a date with Viv where kissing was expected felt like enough of a reward that he didn’t mind that addendum so much, though giving up cupcakes seemed like a pretty big sacrifice. But as her brown eyes seared him thoroughly, the real sacrifice was going to be his sanity. Because he could get her comfortable with his hands on her, but there was no way to get him there.
The date would be nothing but torture—and an opportunity to practice making sure no one else realized that, an opportunity he could not pass up. Having an overdeveloped sense of ethics was very inconvenient sometimes.
“It’s a deal. Pick you up at eight?”
That made her laugh for some reason. “My bedroom is next door to yours, silly. Are we going to have a secret knock?”
“Maybe.” The vibe between them had loosened gradually to where they were almost back to normal, at least as far as she was concerned. Strange that the concept of taking Viv on a date should be the thing to do it. “What should it be?”
Rapping out a short-short-pause-short pattern, she raised her brows. “That means we’re leaving in five minutes so get your butt in gear.”
“And then that’s my cue to hang out in the living room with a sporting event on TV because you’re going to take an extra twenty?”
Tossing her head, she grinned. “You catch on fast. Now, I have to go get ready, which means you get to unload the rest of these boxes.”
Though he groaned good-naturedly as she scampered out of the kitchen, he didn’t mind taking over the chore. Actually, she should be sitting on the couch with a drink and a book while he slaved for hours to get the house exactly the way she liked it. He would have, too, simply because he owed her for this, but she’d insisted that she wanted to do it in order to learn where everything was. Looked like a date was enough to trump that concept.
As the faint sound of running water drifted through the walls, he found spots in his cavernous kitchen for the various pieces Viv had brought with her to this new, temporary life. Unpacking her boxes ended up being a more intimate task than he’d anticipated. She had an odd collection of things. He couldn’t fathom the purpose of many of them, but they told him fascinating things about the woman he’d married. She made cupcakes for her business but she didn’t have so much as one cupcake pan in her personal stash. Not only that, each item had a well-used sheen, random scrapes, dents, bent handles.
Either she’d spent hours in her kitchen trying to figure out what she liked to bake the most or she’d cleaned out an estate sale in one fell swoop. He couldn’t wait to find out, because what better topic to broach on a date with a woman he needed to know inside and out before Friday night?
As he worked, he couldn’t help but think of Viv on the other side of the walls, taking a shower. The ensuing images that slammed through his mind were not conducive to the task at hand and it got a little hard to breathe. He should not be picturing her “getting ready” when, in all honesty, he had no idea what that entailed. Odds were good she didn’t lather herself up and spend extra time stroking the foam over her body like his brain seemed bent on imagining.
What was his problem? He never sat around and fantasized about a woman. He’d never felt strongly enough about one to do so. When was the last time he’d even gone on a date? He might stick Warren with the workaholic label but that could easily be turned back on Jonas. Running the entire American arm of a global company wasn’t for wimps, and he had something to prove on top of that. Didn’t leave a lot of room for dating, especially when the pact was first and foremost in his mind.
Of course the women he dated always made noises about not looking for anything serious and keeping their options open. And Jonas was always completely honest, but it didn’t seem to matter if he flat-out said he wasn’t ever going to fall in love. Mostly they took it as a challenge, and things got sticky fast, especially when said woman figured out he wasn’t kidding.
Jonas was a champion at untangling himself before things went too far. Before he went too far. There were always warning signs that he was starting to like a woman too much. That’s when he bailed.
So he had a lot of one-night stands that he’d never intended to be such. It made for stretches of lonely nights, which was perhaps the best side benefit of marriage. He didn’t hate the idea of having someone to watch a movie with on a random Tuesday night, or drinking coffee with Viv in the morning before work. He hoped she liked that part of their marriage, too.
Especially since that was all they could ever have between them. It would be devastating to lose her friendship, which would surely happen if they took things to the next level. Once she found out about the pact, either she’d view it as a challenge or she’d immediately shut down. The latter was more likely. He’d hate either one.
At seven forty he stacked the empty boxes near the door so he could take them to the recycling center in the basement of the building later, then went to his room to change clothes for his date.
He rapped on Viv’s door with the prescribed knock, grinning as he pictured her on the other side deliberately waiting for as long as she could to answer because they’d made a joke out of this new ritual. But she didn’t follow the script and opened the door almost immediately.
Everything fled his mind but her as she filled the doorway, her fresh beauty heightened by the colors of her dress. She’d arranged her hair up on her head, leaving her neck bare. It was such a different look that he couldn’t stop drinking her in, frozen by the small smile playing around her mouth.
“I didn’t see much point in making you wait when I’m already ready,” she commented. “Is it okay to tell you I’m a little nervous?”
He nodded, shocked his muscles still worked. “Yes. It’s okay to tell me that. Not okay to be that way.”
“I can’t help it. I haven’t been on a date in...” She bit her lip. “Well, it’s been a little while. The shop is my life.”
For some reason, that pleased him enormously. Though he shouldn’t be so happy that they were cut from the same workaholic cloth. “For me, too. We’ll be nervous together.”
But then he already knew she had a lack in her social life since she’d readily agreed to this sham marriage, telling him she was too busy to date. Maybe together, they could find ways to work less. To put finer pleasures first, just for the interim while they were living together. That could definitely be one of the benefits of their friendship.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not nervous. But you’re sweet to say so.”
Maybe not nervous. But something.
His palms itched and he knew good and well the only way to cure that was to put them on her bare arms so he could test out the feel of her skin. It looked soft.
Wasn’t the point of the date to touch her? He had every reason to do exactly that. The urge to reach out grew bigger and rawer with each passing second.
“Maybe we could start the date right now?” she suggested, and all at once, the hallway outside her room got very small as she stepped closer, engulfing him in lavender that could only be her soap.
His body reacted accordingly, treating him to some more made-up images of her in the shower, and now that he had a scent to associate with it, the spike through his gut was that much more powerful. And that much more of a huge warning sign that things were spiraling out of control. He just couldn’t see a good way to stop.
“Yeah?” he murmured, his throat raw with unfulfilled need. “Which part?”
There was no mistaking what she had in mind when she reached out to graze her fingertips across his cheek. Nerve endings fired under her touch and he leaned into her palm, craving more of her.
“The only part that matters,” she whispered back. “The part where you don’t even think twice about getting close to me. Where it’s no big thing if you put your arm around my waist or steal a kiss as I walk by.”
If that was the goal, he was failing miserably because it was a big thing. A huge thing. And getting bigger as she leaned in, apparently oblivious to the way her lithe body brushed against his. His control snapped.
Before he came up with reasons why he shouldn’t, he pulled her into his arms. Her mouth rose to meet his and, when it did, dropped them both into a long kiss. More than a kiss. An exploration.