The Billionaire’s Marriage Of Deception

They’d barely staked out a spot on the beach when one of the resort staff came up to them and asked if they’d be willing to join in on a beach volleyball game to even up the sides. Amanda agreed reluctantly; it wasn’t how she’d been planning on spending her morning, and even after her trip here had been turned entirely upside down—twice—she still had a hard time adjusting to changes in her schedule. Still, when Michael said it was okay, she agreed, thinking it would be nice to get in some exercise.

Of course, that meant she spent a couple of hours watching Michael leap and dive and roll and otherwise show off the most amazing body Amanda had ever had the privilege of seeing in person. She missed more than one serve, distracted by the way Michael’s back muscles flexed as he turned to face the net.

She found herself trying harder than she otherwise would have to get words of praise or even a hug from Michael. And since the guy was pretending to be her husband, he wasn’t stingy with the hugs. Amanda was really hoping no one else was noticing how her nip*les were hard and defined through her bikini throughout the match as a consequence of having Michael’s firm, sweat-lined body occasionally pressed up against her.

She was worried about having to make small talk with the other players once the game was over, but it was all couples playing, and Amanda soon realized that she wasn’t the only one who’d been…inspired by performances on the court. Two blond Baywatch wannabes looked like they were about to go at it right there in the sand, and Michael chuckled as he put a hand on Amanda’s back to lead her back to where their towels were laid out. “Who knew volleyball could make you so horny?” he muttered.

Amanda ducked her head. Damn, she’d been hoping Michael hadn’t noticed. “Shut up.”

That got her a quick look from Michael, followed by raised eyebrows. “You mean you—?”

It took a moment, but Amanda realized that Michael had been speaking of the generic “you” rather than her specifically. She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Hey, I’m surrounded by hot men and I haven’t gotten any in a month. Can you blame me?”

“A month? I find that hard to believe.” The glance that he swept over Amanda’s body felt almost like a physical touch in its intensity.

Amanda drew in a shaky breath and looked away. Michael had already said these weren’t the right circumstances in which to get involved, and Amanda totally agreed. Mostly.

At least the parts of her that weren’t currently getting hot and wet at the sight of Michael’s ass as he bent over to pick up his towel and shake off the sand.

She tried flirting with Michael a little that afternoon, casual touches or looks over the top of her sunglasses. She got an approving nod a few times, which took her aback until she realized that Michael thought she was playing along with the fake husband thing. That took a little of the fun out of it, but Amanda noticed enough envious looks from other resort guests—and even staff—that she started to feel pleased with herself at having the attention of the hottest guy in the resort.

There were one or two times, though, when there was something in Michael’s eyes that was hard to read but made Amanda wish that they’d met each other under different circumstances. Like when he tugged Amanda close with an arm around her shoulders as they walked along the water’s edge, his fingers rubbing gently over Amanda’s skin even though no one else could see. Or when Amanda made a joke that was by no means one of her best but still cracked Michael up, head thrown back and mouth wide open as he laughed out loud, sending a warm thrill down Amanda’s spine.

They were walking back to the villa, Michael’s arm around her small waist, and Amanda realized that she was enjoying having someone showing interest in her, even if it was all a pretense. The last several weeks with Calvin hadn’t been good, and even before that, Amanda couldn’t remember them spending the kind of easy, fun time together that she and Michael were doing. It made her want to laugh at herself: what kind of loser was she that a fake relationship was more satisfying than a real one had been?

It was a depressing enough thought to make her quiet through dinner, until Michael finally asked if she was all right. “Yeah, I guess so,” Amanda replied, absently twirling her chicken with pineapple cilantro rice around her fork.

When she looked up, Michael’s eyes were fixed on her, warm and full of concern. “Listen, I know this must be hard for you,” he said, reaching out to cover Amanda’s hand with his own. “Pretending I’m your husband when you just got—well, you know. I’ll talk to Demore tonight and see how close they are to catching the shooter; maybe I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Amanda said quickly. “I mean, yeah, it’s weird, but not—” She broke off and shook her head. “I don’t understand. I’m the woman who gets thrown off-kilter all day if I don’t wake up at the same time and have my coffee black, no sugar every morning, and now here…” She swept her free arm around to indicate the entire situation, trying to ignore the way the heat of Michael’s hand was soaking into her.

The corner of Michael’s mouth quirked up. “The coffee black no sugar huh?”

“Yeah.” Amanda shrugged. “I like knowing what’s going to happen, you know? I like knowing what to expect, and I don’t like being surprised by things.”

“I know what you mean,” Michael nodded. “My job requires planning everything down to the last detail, even the things you think can’t possibly happen.”

“Yes, exactly.” Amanda pointed a finger at him. “It’s all about being prepared.”

“But it’s also about being flexible,” Michael replied. “I don’t think there’s ever been a job that went the way we planned it, not in every detail. It’s being able to deal with the stuff you don’t expect that can make or break you.” He paused and then gave Amanda a small smile. “And I have to say, you’ve been amazing.”

Amanda felt herself flush and looked away. “Not really.”

“No, really. You’re this pampered rich girl who all of a sudden is getting shot at and having some ginormous dude in your face all the time, all while trying to deal with your own sh*t. You’re keeping it together so well, Amanda. I can’t even imagine how upset I’d be in your place.”

Amanda shook her head as she realized something she’d been thinking all day but hadn’t managed to put into words up until this point. She said slowly, “I’m not all that upset about losing Calvin. Not anymore. I think I’m more upset about being duped.”

“It bothers you more that you allowed yourself to trust someone rather than that you lost him?”

When Amanda looked up, she saw a mix of emotions swirling in Michael’s honey gold eyes: compassion and concern mixed with protectiveness and maybe even something like jealousy. Which was stupid: what did Michael have to be jealous about? Aloud, Amanda said, “Yeah, if that makes any sense.”

“It makes a lot of sense.” Michael’s thumb was stroking back and forth across the back of Amanda’s hand. “It’s a good sign, too. Means you’re starting to move on.”

“Yeah,” Amanda breathed out. “Maybe I am.” She briefly licked her lips, and when Michael’s gaze dropped to her mouth, she found herself fiercely wishing that the table wasn’t between them. As it was, there was no way to subtly make a move, and she was afraid to let the chance go by without seizing it.

Michael cleared his throat. “Amanda, I—”

If the room hadn’t been so quiet and tense, they wouldn’t have heard it. It came from outside, a choked-off cry that made the hair on the back of Amanda’s neck stand up.

Instantly, Michael’s expression went from tentatively hopeful to grim. “Get down,” he commanded, rising to his feet and reaching for the phone in his pocket. “Under the table.”