The Billionaire’s Marriage Of Deception

Chapter 3

They demolished the rice and chicken stew between them. Then Michael polished off the peas while Amanda licked at the remainder of the sauce, full from the delicious chicken. All the while, they talked about where they were from, their favorite basketball teams, other light stuff that had nothing to do with why either of them was there. Michael seemed friendly and outgoing, not what Amanda would have pictured in a secret agent or whatever the hell he was.

They also emptied a bottle of wine between them, although Amanda had the suspicion that Michael kept raising the same glass to his lips without actually drinking any of it. Which meant that she had had about three glasses, which might explain the floating feeling inside her skull. It felt pretty good, actually, and she found herself grinning at Michael as he poured the last drops into Amanda’s wine glass. “Thanks,” she said, lifting the glass slightly. “This is great.”

Michael looked bemused. “What is?”

“Haven’t had dinner with a really hot guy in a long time.” Amanda frowned at her own words, vaguely aware that that wasn’t the actual purpose of this dinner. “‘S nice. You’re nice.”

Michael bit his lower lip, and Amanda stared at the heat of it beneath his even, white teeth.

 “About that…Look, you can tell me to fu*k off, but what happened? Why was your fiancé such a moron? I mean, you…” His gaze roamed over Amanda’s face and arms before dropping to the table. “That is, you…seem like a nice girl.”

“I guess ‘seem’ is the operative word,” Amanda muttered. She drained her glass and set it on the table a little too hard. “He said it wasn’t a good idea. That I was too…too anal. You’d think that’d be a good thing, huh? Seeing as he…uh, he was….very lackadaisical.”

She thought she heard Michael snort, but when she looked up, the other man’s expression was bland. “Had you guys been together long?”

“Two years.” Amanda smoothed down a fold in the tablecloth. “You’d think he would have noticed earlier that I was a freak.”

“Hey, you’re not a freak,” Michael reproached. “Just…precise about some things.”

“Like what?” Amanda challenged. “And how’d you know?”

“I’ve been watching you all day,” Michael replied, and Amanda did not go hot all over at the words. “You laid out your towel very precisely, after spending ten minutes finding the perfect spot. You were very careful to evenly apply your sunscreen and not get any on the towel or your shorts. But, you didn’t seem to mind when that dog ran past and sprayed sand on you and the towel, so you’re not completely compulsive. And when we were packing up, you shook out the towel kind of haphazardly; I bet there’s sand all over the floor by the entryway.”

“Duh, we were on a beach,” Amanda returned. Then she thought about what Michael had said, and her cheeks felt hot. “You were watching me pretty close, huh?”

Michael’s head jerked to the side as he looked away. “‘S my job,” he muttered.

“Hmm.” Amanda thought about that for a moment and decided with wine-induced decisiveness that it was bullsh*t. Michael was supposed to be watching other people, not her. She let her gaze slide over Michael’s well-muscled chest and wished that the table wasn’t in the way so that she could look lower. She squinted as if she could look through the sauce-stained plate and the table, and then she realized what she was doing. “I think I’ve had enough wine,” she concluded.

Michael guffawed, and Amanda couldn’t help grinning at the sound. “You might be right. Let me clean up and you head on upstairs, okay?”

“You gonna join me?” Amanda drawled. Then she blinked. Damn brain-mouth filter, disappearing after only three glasses.

Michael folded his arms across his chest, his veined forearms instantly drawing Amanda’s gaze. “I’ll be right down here,” he said, nodding at the long couch. “And my team’s on patrol outside. But holler if you see or hear anything suspicious, okay?”

“Okay.” Amanda doubted she’d be up to seeing or hearing much of anything, given as how she was going to be falling asleep as soon as she made it to the bed, but she wanted to do what Michael said. Michael was nice. Michael was super hot. Maybe after he caught the bad guys, Michael would sleep with her.

“Okay, you definitely need to get going, Amanda.” Michael’s voice sounded choked for some reason.

Amanda realized she’d said the last few words out loud, and she heated. “Oops.” Wine always went right to her head, which was probably how Calvin thought he could get one over her, given that they’d met at a bar. Too bad she hadn’t known then that she was rarely going to see that charm at work again; that was the night he’d wooed her and ended up in her bed. That should have been a sign, Amanda thought, that they weren’t meant to be, because who falls for someone when they’re both tipsy?

In the morning he’d convinced her that she never would have slept with him if she didn’t feel something deeper than lust. She wasn’t that type of girl. He’d convinced her because that premise was based on the truth. She wasn’t that kind of girl. At least, she’d believed she wasn’t. But here she was, lusting after her new fake husband.

She vaguely registered someone helping her up the stairs and into bed, even pulling the sheets over her. Amanda tried to sit up and take her shirt off, because that was what was supposed to come next, but a gentle baritone was telling her to lie down and rest. It was a nice voice, so she did what it said, and the last thing she remembered was a hand brushing over her forehead and through her hair.

Heading downstairs, she mentally crossed her fingers that the bad guys had been caught and all of the mysterious men in black had gone home and left Amanda and her embarrassment to themselves. But Michael was sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee from a white mug that looked too small in his large hands, and touching herself in the shower hadn’t done a thing to curtail Amanda’s libido, given how her thoughts were wandering to how those hands would feel on her—

“Morning!” Michael said cheerfully. “How’re you doing?”

Amanda winced and put a hand to her head. “I need to apologize for some things I said, even though I don’t remember what they were.”

Michael laughed, head thrown back and long neck looking extremely lickable, and Amanda realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn’t just wine that made her want to jump the guy who was guarding her. “It’s all right, I know it was the wine talking.”

“Seriously, though.” Amanda padded over to the coffee maker, where the carafe was blissfully full. “If I hit on you or did anything to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You probably need a rebound guy, is all.” Michael took a sip of his coffee and looked away. His voice dropped as he said, “Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you out.”

Amanda drew in a sharp breath. It was way too early in the morning to be saying things like that. “That’s too bad,” she said, trying to keep her voice level and pour a cup of coffee at the same time, either of which she personally felt should qualify as an heroic effort. “Because I don’t think I’d be opposed to it, either.”

By the time she got the guts to look up, Amanda was astonished to catch Michael’s eyes raking over her body, lips slightly parted and tongue poking out. When his eyes met Amanda’s, he looked embarrassed and turned away. “We should go back to the beach today,” Michael said, his voice rougher than before. “Staying in public is still the best idea.”

Amanda watched in fascination as Michael’s hand strayed below the countertop as if he was adjusting himself. There was no way a guy that hot and built could be interested in the messed-up pile of confusion that Amanda was right now. Maybe Michael hadn’t been laid in a long time, either.

‘Maybe you should “help” each other out’, a little voice inside Amanda’s head piped up, and she firmly ignored it. This whole mess would be over soon, and Michael would be on to his next assignment, and they’d never see each other again. Best not to get involved in something that wasn’t meant to be.