“You know, no one is watching us. You don’t have to pretend to want to kiss me.”

Julian smiled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years in LA, it’s that someone is always watching. But even if there weren’t, I would still kiss you.”

“Why?” Her dark eyes searched his face in confusion, her brows drawn together.

She honestly didn’t think she was kissable. That was a shame.

“It’s not that hard. Just take a deep breath, tilt your head up to me and close your eyes.”

He intended it to be a quick kiss, knowing it would take a while for them to work up to a convincing one. But he found that once they touched, he didn’t want to pull away.

* * *

One Week with the Best Man is part of the Brides and Belles series: Wedding planning is their business … and their pleasure

One Week with the Best Man

Andrea Laurence

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Epilogue

Copyright

ANDREA LAURENCE is an award-winning author of contemporary romance for Mills & Boon Desire and paranormal romance for Mills & Boon Nocturne. She has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she learned to read at a young age. She always dreamed of seeing her work in print and is thrilled to share her special blend of sensuality and dry, sarcastic humor with the world.

A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, Andrea is working on her own happily-ever-after with her boyfriend and their collection of animals, including a Siberian husky that sheds like nobody’s business. If you enjoy her story, tell her by visiting her website, www.andrealaurence.com; like her fan page on Facebook at facebook.com/authorandrealaurence; or follow her on Twitter, twitter.com/andrea_laurence.

To my baby sister Hannah—

Being a girl is tough. Surviving your teenage years with your self-esteem intact is a major feat. You’ve got a long way to go, but no matter what, I want you to remember: you are smart enough, you are talented enough and you are pretty enough. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You can do anything you put your mind to, and if and when you choose to fall in love, that man will be damn lucky to have you in his life. Don’t settle for someone that treats you like anything less than the best thing that has ever happened to him.

One

“Pardon me,” Natalie said, leaning in toward the man sitting across from her. “Could you run that by us again?”

Gretchen was glad Natalie had said it, because she was pretty darn confused herself. The four owners and operators of From This Moment wedding chapel were seated at the conference room table across from a man wearing an expensive suit and an arrogant attitude she didn’t care for. He wasn’t from the South; that was for sure. He was also talking nonsense.

Ross Bentley looked just as annoyed with the women’s confusion as they were with him. “You advertise From This Moment as a one-stop wedding venue, do you not?”

“Yes,” Natalie said, “but usually that means we’ll handle the food, the DJ and the flowers. We’ve never been asked to provide one of the wedding guests a date. This is a wedding chapel, not an escort service.”

“Let me explain,” Ross said with a greasy smile that Gretchen didn’t trust. “This is a very delicate arrangement, so this discussion will need to fall within the confidentiality agreement for the Murray Evans wedding.”

Murray Evans was a country music superstar. On his last tour, he’d fallen for his opening act. They were having a multiday wedding event at their facility next weekend, the kind the press salivated over. Those weddings usually required a confidentiality clause so that any leaks about the event are not from the venue. Frankly, Gretchen was getting tired of these big, over-the-top weddings. The money was nice—money was always nice, since she didn’t have much—but carefully addressing thousands of invitations in perfect calligraphy wasn’t that fun. Nor was dealing with the high-and-mighty wedding guests who came to these kinds of shindigs.

“Of course,” Natalie replied.

“I represent Julian Cooper, the actor. He’s a longtime friend of Mr. Evans and will be attending the wedding as the best man. I’m not sure how closely you follow celebrity news, but Julian has just had a big public breakup with his costar of Bombs of Fury, Bridgette Martin. Bridgette has already been seen out and about with another high-profile actor. As his manager, I feel like it would look bad if Julian attended the wedding alone, but he doesn’t need the complication of a real date. We just need a woman to stand in and pretend to be with him throughout the wedding events. I assure you there’s nothing inappropriate involved.”

Gretchen knew of Julian Cooper—it would be impossible not to—although she’d never seen any of his films. He was the king of dude films—lots of explosions, guns and scripts with holes big enough to drive a truck through them. That wasn’t her thing, but a lot of people loved his movies. It seemed a little ridiculous that he would need a fake date. His sweaty, hard abs were plastered all over every billboard and movie preview. While Gretchen might not appreciate his acting skills, she had a hard time discounting that body. If a man who looked like that couldn’t get a last-minute date, she was doomed.

“What kind of woman are you wanting?” Bree, their photographer, asked cautiously. “I’m not sure I know many women who would look natural on the arm of a movie star.”

“That’s understandable,” Ross said. “What I’d really prefer is an average woman. We don’t want her to look like an escort. I also think it would go over well with Julian’s female fan base for him to be seen with an everyday woman. It makes them feel like they have a shot.”

Gretchen snorted, and Ross shot a cutting look at her across the table. “We’d be willing to handsomely compensate her for the trouble,” he continued. “We’re willing to pay ten thousand dollars for the woman’s time. Also, I can provide additional funds for salon visits and a clothing allowance.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Gretchen nearly choked. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” Ross said. “I’m very serious. Can you provide what we’re asking for or not?”

Natalie took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. We’ll make arrangements and have someone in place to meet with Julian when he arrives in Nashville.”

“Very good. He flies into Nashville tonight and he’s staying at the Hilton.” Ross reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. He extracted a handful of cash and pushed it across the table to Natalie. “This should cover the incidentals I discussed. The full payment will be provided after the wedding is over.”

Without elaborating, he stood up and walked out of the conference room, leaving the four women in stunned silence.

Finally, Bree reached out and counted the money. “He left two grand. I think that will buy some really nice highlights and a couple fancy outfits, don’t you, Amelia?”

Amelia, the caterer and resident fashionista, nodded. “It should. But it really depends on what we have to start with. Who can we possibly get to do this?”

“Not me,” Bree insisted. “I’m engaged, and I’ve got to be able to take all the pictures. You’re married and pregnant,” she noted.

Amelia ran her hand over her rounded belly. She had just reached twenty-two weeks and found out that she and her husband, Tyler, were having a girl. “Even if I wasn’t, I’ve got to cook for five hundred guests. I’m already in over my head on this one, even with Stella’s help.”

They both turned to look at Natalie, who was frantically making notes in her tablet. “Don’t look at me,” she said after noticing them watching her. “I’m the wedding planner. I’ll be in headset mode keeping this show on track.”

“There’s got to be someone we could ask. A friend?” Gretchen pressed. “You grew up in Nashville, Natalie. Don’t you know anyone that wouldn’t mind being a movie star’s arm candy for a few days?”

“What about you?” Natalie fired back.

“What?” Gretchen nearly shrieked in response to the ridiculous question. They’d obviously lost their minds if they thought that was a viable solution. “Me? With Julian Cooper?”

Natalie shrugged off her surprise. “And why not? He said they wanted a normal, everyday woman.”

“Just because he doesn’t want a supermodel doesn’t mean he wants...me. I’m hardly normal. I’m short, I’m fat and never mind the fact that I’m horribly awkward with men. I clam up whenever Bree’s musician fiancé comes by. Do you really think I can act normal while the hottest star in Hollywood is whispering in my ear?”

“You’re not fat,” Amelia chastised. “You’re a normal woman. Plenty of guys like their women a little juicy.”

Juicy? Gretchen rolled her eyes and flopped back into her chair. She was twenty pounds overweight on a petite frame and had been that way since she was in diapers. Her two sisters were willowy and fragile like their ballerina mother, but Gretchen got their father’s solid Russian genes, much to her dismay. Her pants size was in the double digits, and she was in a constant state of baking muffin tops. Juicy wasn’t the word she would use.

“You guys can’t really be serious about this. Even if I wasn’t the last woman on earth that he’d date, you forget I work here, too. I’ll be busy.”

“Not necessarily,” Bree countered. “Most of what you do is done in advance.”

Gretchen frowned. Bree was right, although she didn’t want to admit it. The invitations had gone out months ago. The programs and place cards were done. She would need to decorate the night before, but that didn’t preclude her from participating in most of the wedding day activities. “I handle a lot of last-minute things, too, you know. It’s not like I’m sitting around every Saturday doing my nails.”

“That’s not what I’m implying,” Bree said.

“Even so, it’s ridiculous,” Gretchen grumbled. “Julian Cooper? Please.”

“You could use the money, Gretchen.”

She looked at Amelia and sighed. Yes, Gretchen was broke. They’d all agreed when they started this business that the majority of their profits would go into paying off the mortgage on the facility, so they weren’t drawing amazing wages. For Amelia and Bree it didn’t matter so much anymore. Bree was engaged to a millionaire record producer, and Amelia was married to a rare jewels dealer. Gretchen was getting by, but there wasn’t much left over for life’s extras. “Who couldn’t?”

“You could go to Italy,” Natalie offered.

That made Gretchen groan aloud. They’d found her Achilles’ heel without much trouble. She’d had a fantasy of traveling to Italy for years. Since high school. She wanted to spend weeks taking in every detail, every painting of the Renaissance masters. It was a trip well out of her financial reach despite years of trying to save. But Natalie was right. With that cash in her hand she could immediately book a flight and go.

Italy. Florence. Venice. Rome.

She shook off the thoughts of gelato on the Spanish Steps and tried to face reality. “We’re overworked. Things are slower around the holidays, but I don’t see a three-week Italian vacation in my future. He could give me a million bucks and I wouldn’t be able to take off time for a trip.”

“We close for a week between Christmas and New Year’s. That would cover some of it,” Natalie said. “Or you could go later in the spring. If you work ahead with the printing, we can get someone to cover the decorating. What matters is that you’d have the money in hand to go. What can it hurt?”

“Yeah, Gretchen,” Bree chimed in. “It’s a lot of money, and for what? Clinging to the hard body of Julian Cooper with a loving look in your eyes? Dancing with him at the reception and maybe kissing him for the cameras?”

Gretchen tightened her jaw, choking down another argument, because she knew Bree was right. All she had to do was suck it up for a few days and she could go to Italy. She’d never have another opportunity like this.

“Besides,” Bree added, “how bad can faking it with a sexy movie star really be?”

* * *

If Ross hadn’t been personally responsible for Julian’s career success, Julian would throttle him right this second.

“A date? A fake date? Really, Ross?”

“I think it will be good for your image.”

Julian sipped his bottled water and leaned against the arm of the chair in his Nashville hotel suite. “Do I look that pathetic and heartbroken over my breakup with Bridgette?”

“Of course not,” Ross soothed. “I just want to make sure that her management team doesn’t outsmart us. She’s already been seen out with Paul Watson. If you don’t move on fast enough, you’ll get painted as lovesick for her.”

“I don’t care,” Julian exclaimed. “Despite what everyone thinks, I broke up with Bridgette six months ago. We only went out publicly because you insisted on it.”

“I didn’t insist,” Ross protested. “The studio insisted. Your romance was a huge selling point for the film. They couldn’t have you two break up before it even came out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Julian said dismissively. “If I ever even look twice at one of my costars again, you haul me off and remind me of this moment. But now it’s done. I’m over Bridgette and I’m way over dating someone just for the cameras.”

Ross held up his hands. “It won’t be like that. I swear. Besides, it’s already done. She’ll be here to meet you in about five minutes.”

“Ross!” Julian shouted, rising to his full height to intimidate his short, round manager. “You can’t just do stuff like this without my permission.”

“Yes, I can. It’s what you pay me to do. You’ll thank me later.”

Julian pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “Who is it? Some country music singer? Did you import an actress from Hollywood?”

“No, none of that. They tell me she’s one of the employees at the wedding chapel. Just your everyday girl.”

“Wait. I thought after what happened with that waitress you didn’t want me dating ‘regular’ women. You said they were a bigger security risk than another star with her own career to protect. You said I needed to stick to women that didn’t need my money or my fame.” Julian had been dealing strictly with high-and-mighty starlets the past few years at Ross’s insistence, but now, a regular girl was okay because he said so?

“I know, and normally that’s the case. That waitress just wanted to dig up dirt on you to make a buck with the tabloids. There are a million women just like her in Hollywood. But in this scenario I think it’s a smart choice. Women in Nashville are different, and it’s an unexpected move. Your female fans will like it, of course, and so will the studios. I’ve been trying to get you a role as a true romantic lead. This could do it.”

Julian didn’t really want to be a romantic lead. At least not by Ross’s definition. His manager’s idea of a romantic film was one where the sexy blonde clings to his half-naked body while he shoots the bad guys. He’d already played that role again and again. When he’d pushed Ross on the topic a second time, he got Julian the “romantic” lead in a movie about male strippers. Not exactly hard-hitting, award-winning stuff. Hell, he’d be thrilled to just do a light romantic comedy. Something without explosions. Or machine guns. Or G-strings.

“I should fire you for this,” Julian complained as he dropped down into his chair. It was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. Ross had made Julian’s career. He might not be creatively fulfilled by big-budget action films, but the money was ridiculous and Julian needed every penny.

“It will be fine. I promise. It’s not a real relationship, so I can break my own rules this once. In a few days, you can go back to Hollywood and date whomever you want.”

Somehow, Julian doubted that. Since moving to Hollywood, he hadn’t had the best track record with the ladies. The waitress had sold the story of their romance to the newspapers with some other juicy tidbits she’d gotten out of him. The dancer was just looking for a guy to pay for her boob job. So many others were after either his money or his leverage to get into show business.

Ross encouraged him to date other actresses to reduce that issue, but either way, there was usually some kind of confidentiality contract involved. Even with that in place, he’d learned quickly to keep private things private. He didn’t talk about his family, his past...anything that he couldn’t bear to see in the papers. An after-the-fact lawsuit wouldn’t undo the damage once it was out there.

Since his breakup with Bridgette, he hadn’t really shown any interest in dating again. It was too damn much work and frankly, just not that fun. How was he supposed to find love when he couldn’t even find someone he could trust?

Ross got up from his seat and put his drink on the coffee table. “Well, that should do it.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” Ross said.

“Leaving? I thought you said my date was on her way over.”

“She is. That’s why I’m leaving. Three’s a crowd, after all. You two need to get to know each other.”

Julian’s jaw dropped as he watched his manager slip out of the hotel suite. He should’ve throttled him. He could get a new manager.

With nothing to do but wait, he slumped into his chair and killed time checking his smartphone for missed calls or updates from his family. His mother and brother lived in Louisville, and that was the easiest and most secure way to keep up with them, especially with his brother James’s condition. James’s attendant usually kept him up to date on how his brother was doing and shared any funny tidbits to make him feel more connected. Today, there were no messages to worry him.

About four minutes later, there was a knock at the door to his suite. His new girlfriend was punctual if nothing else.

Julian got up and went to the door. He looked through the peephole but didn’t see anyone there. Confused, he opened his hotel room door wide and realized it was because his guest was very petite. She was maybe five foot two if she had good posture, and she didn’t. In addition to being petite, she was curvy, hiding most of her body under an oversize cardigan. She had the look of the average woman on the street, nothing like he was used to seeing around Malibu.

What really caught his attention, however, were her eyes. She had a dark gaze that watched him survey her with a hint of suspicion. It made him wonder what that was about. Shouldn’t he be suspicious of her? Julian had been a part of the Hollywood scene for several years and had seen his fair share of staged relationships. The women were usually attractive and greedy, hoping they might actually charm their fake boyfriend into falling for them so they could take advantage of California’s community property laws.

He waited for her to say something, but she just stood there, sort of awkwardly hovering outside his door. “Hi,” Julian finally offered to end the silence. “I’m Julian, although you probably already know that. Are you the one the wedding company sent over?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her dark brown curls bouncing around her round face. He expected her to say something after that, but she continued to just hover. It made him think that at any moment, she might turn and bolt down the hallway. He was used to his fans being nervous around him, but not skittish. He was certain Ross would blame him if he ran off the woman his manager had so carefully arranged for him.

Julian didn’t want a fake girlfriend. He would gladly send this poor woman back home with an apology, but Ross wouldn’t have set this up without a good reason. He paid the man to make smart, strategic decisions about his career, so he had to be nice and make this work. Or he’d hear about it.

“And your name is...?” he prompted.

She seemed to snap out of her nervous daze. “Gretchen,” she said, holding out her hand. “Gretchen McAlister.”

Julian shook her hand, noticing how ice-cold her skin was and how her fingers trembled in his grip. This woman seemed terrified of him. Women usually had a much...warmer reaction to Julian. He had to pry them from his neck and wipe away their lipstick from his cheeks at movie premieres. He needed to warm her up or they were never going to convince anyone—much less a skeptical press—that they were dating.

He took a step back to let her into the hotel room. “Come on in, Gretchen.” He shut the door behind them and gestured for her to take a seat in the living room of his suite. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Something alcoholic would make all this easier,” she muttered under her breath.

Julian’s lips twisted in amusement as he went over to the minibar. That wasn’t a bad idea to help break the ice. At least for her. He didn’t drink, but certainly the hotel would’ve stocked the room with something useful. He wished he could drink, but that was on his personal trainer’s list of no-no’s: no alcohol, no sugar, no carbs, no dairy, no preservatives, no artificial colors, flavors or anything else remotely interesting or tasty.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know where to start with a drink for Gretchen. “There’s a collection of tiny bottles in here. Feel free to pick whatever you’d like.”

Gretchen watched him curiously as she walked over to the bar and pulled out what looked like tequila. He expected her to mix it with something, but instead, watched in surprise as she twisted off the lid and threw back the tiny bottle in a few hard draws. She really must be nervous if she was doing tequila shots just to be in the same room with him.

“You know, you look like you could use one of these yourself. I’m not getting the feeling that you’re very happy about this,” she said as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She tossed the empty bottle into the trash and turned back to sit on the couch. “I know I probably don’t meet your standards for a woman you’d date. Mr. Bentley specifically requested an everyday woman, but I assume I’m not what he had in mind. I’m obviously not a Bridgette, so if that’s going to be a problem, just say the word and I’ll go on my way.”

He was doing a crappy job at making her feel welcome. “No, no. I’m sorry,” Julian said, sitting down in the chair to face her. “My manager informed me about this whole arrangement literally minutes before you showed up. My reaction has nothing to do with you and the standards you seem to think you fall short of.”

“So you’re not on board with Mr. Bentley’s plan?”

“Not really,” he replied. There was no sense in sugarcoating it. “I’ll do what I need to do, but this isn’t my choice, no. It’s pretty common in Hollywood to contract relationships, but that’s not my style. I’d rather go to an event alone than with some woman I don’t even know. That’s probably why Ross sprang this on me—I couldn’t get out of it quickly enough. But now, here we are, and I find I’m just not as well prepared as I would like to be.”

“Neither am I,” she said. “Does one ever really get used to being pimped out by your friends for something like this?”

“Pimped out?” Julian chuckled. The alcohol seemed to loosen her tongue. “That’s one way to put it. Welcome to the Hollywood game, Gretchen McAlister. We’ve all sold ourselves for success. How much did it take for you to toss your good sense out the window and end up on my couch?”

A flicker of irritation crossed her face, blushing her cheeks an attractive pink. It might have just been the tequila kicking in. He’d bet her hands weren’t cold any longer. He fought the urge to find a reason to touch her again.

“Apparently, ten grand for my time and another two grand to make me more presentable.”

Julian looked over his date of the next few days and frowned. It shouldn’t take two thousand to make her presentable, and he hoped Ross hadn’t been rude enough to say such a thing. Ross was usually brutally honest, with a set of unrealistic Hollywood ideals. Whereas Gretchen wasn’t the kind of woman Julian was normally seen with in LA, she wasn’t unattractive. Her skin was creamy and flawless, her lips full and pink. Her eyelashes were so long and thick, he thought they might be fake, but she didn’t strike him as that type.

He supposed anyone could use a haircut and a manicure. She could take the rest of the money and buy clothes. Tonight she was dressed as though she’d come straight from her work at the wedding chapel, wearing a plain green shirt and khakis with a brown cardigan, a pair of loafers and argyle socks. Appropriate for winter in the South, he supposed, but not overly dressy. She looked nice. She actually reminded him a lot of his mother when she was younger and life hadn’t completely sucked away everything she had.

But instead of complimenting Gretchen the way he knew he should, he went the other direction. He felt himself being drawn in by her shy awkwardness, but Julian had no intention of getting chummy with this woman. She may not be a part of the Hollywood machine, but she’d use him just like everyone else. She was only here because she was being paid a ridiculous amount of money to do it.

“You should’ve held out for more. Ross would’ve paid twenty.”

Gretchen just shrugged as though the money didn’t mean much to her. He knew that couldn’t be true. Who would sign up for something like this if it wasn’t because they needed the money? He was a millionaire, and he still wouldn’t turn down a well-paying role. There was always something he could do with it. Even socking it away in the bank put it to good use.

He doubted that was the case for her, though. She certainly didn’t seem to have agreed to this because she was a fan. She was lacking that distinctly starry-eyed gaze he was used to seeing in women. The gaze that flickered over him was appreciative, but reserved. He sensed there was a lot going on in her mind that she wouldn’t share with him. He knew he shouldn’t care; she was just a fleeting part of his life this week, but he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on under that curly mop of hair.

“Well, now that we’ve established that I’ve been had cheaply, do we need to work out any details?”

Yes, Julian thought. It was better to stick to the logistics of the plan. “I came out a few days early to hang out with Murray before the wedding, so you’ve got some time to buy clothes and do whatever grooming women do. The first event for the wedding is Wednesday night. They’re holding a welcome barbecue out at Murray’s house. That will be our first official outing. Maybe we should get together here on Wednesday afternoon and spend some time on our story for anyone that asks.”

Gretchen nodded. “Okay. I’ll get the event schedule from Natalie, the wedding planner. Any special requests?”

Julian’s brows went up at her question. “Like what?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never done this before, but I thought you might have favorite colors for me to wear, or find acrylic nails to be a turnoff, that sort of thing.”

He’d never had a woman ask him something like that before. Despite how often people told him they were there for him, they rarely inquired or even cared what he might really want. He had to think about an answer for a moment. “I only have one request, really.”

“What’s that?”

“Please wear comfortable shoes,” Julian said. “I don’t know how many events I’ve sat through where the woman did nothing but complain about her expensive, fancy, painful shoes the whole night.”

Gretchen glanced down at her practical and comfortable-looking brown leather loafers. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Well, I’ll get going.” She got up from the couch and held out a card to him.

He accepted it, turning it over to find it was her business card. The design of it was very intricate but delicate, with a shiny ivory damask pattern over a flat white card. The text was in a blush pink, as was an edging of abstract roses, screaming wedding, but not cliché wedding.

“You can reach me at the chapel number during the day or my cell phone the rest of the time. If nothing comes up, I’ll see you Wednesday afternoon before the barbecue.”

Julian took her hand in his. It was warmer now, and this time, he noticed how soft her skin was against him. He swallowed hard as his palm tingled where their skin touched. His gaze met hers, and he watched her dark eyes widen in surprise for a moment before she pulled her hand away.

“Thanks for doing this, Gretchen,” he said, to cover his surprising physical response to her touch. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

She nodded and bit at her lip as she made her way to the door. After she slipped out, he bolted the lock and turned back to face his room. It suddenly felt more empty and cold than it had when she was here with him.

Perhaps this setup wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

Two

Gretchen felt as if she’d just lived through that makeover montage from the movie Miss Congeniality, although it was more painful than funny. Amelia had scheduled her appointments at the day spa they contracted with for bridal sessions, and they were happy to fit in Gretchen for a full day of beauty.

She was expecting a hair trim and some nail polish. Maybe a facial. Gretchen wasn’t a movie star, but she didn’t think she needed that much work.

Instead, she’d had nearly every hair on her body ripped out. The hair that was left was cut, highlighted and blown into a bouncy but straight bob. Her skin was buffed and polished, her clogged pores “extracted,” and then she was wrapped like a mummy to remove toxins, reduce cellulite and squeeze out some water weight. They finished her off with a coat of spray tan to chase away the pastiness. She got a pedicure and solar nails in a classic pink-and-white French manicure that she couldn’t chip. They even bleached her teeth.

Thankfully Gretchen didn’t have much of an ego, or it would’ve been decimated. It had taken about seven hours so far, but she thought she might—might—be done. She was wrapped in a fluffy robe in the serenity room. Every time someone came through, they took her into another room and exposed her to another treatment, but she couldn’t come up with anything else they could possibly do to her.

This time, when the door opened, it was Amelia. If Gretchen’s lady parts weren’t still tender, she’d leap up and beat her friend with an aromatherapy pillow for putting her through all this. Instead, she sipped her cucumber-infused mineral water and glared at her.

“Don’t you look refreshed!” Amelia said.

“Refreshed?” Gretchen just shook her head. “That’s exactly the look I was going for after seven hours of beauty rituals. Julian Cooper’s new woman looks so well rested!”

“Quit it, you look great.”

Gretchen doubted that. There were improvements, but “great” took it a little far. “I should, after all this,” she joked. “If this is what the women in Hollywood go through all the time, I’m glad I live way out here in Nashville.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Amelia said in a chiding tone. “I’ve had every single treatment that you had today. But now is the fun part!”

“Lunch?” Gretchen perked up.

Amelia placed a thoughtful hand on her round belly. “No, shopping. They were supposed to feed you lunch as part of the package.”

“Yeah, they did. Sort of.” The green salad with citrus vinaigrette and berries for dessert hadn’t really made a dent in her appetite.

“If you promise not to give me grief while we’re shopping, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.”

“I want pretzel bites, too,” Gretchen countered. “Take it out of my makeover money.”

Amelia smiled. “Fair enough. Get dressed and we’ll go buy you some clothes and makeup.”

“I have makeup,” Gretchen complained as she got up, realizing as she spoke that she’d already broken her agreement not to give Amelia grief. It just seemed wasteful.

“I’m sure you do, but we’re going to have the lady at the counter come up with a new look for you, then we’ll buy the colors she puts together.”

In the ladies’ locker room, Gretchen changed back into her street clothes, all the while muttering to herself about Italy. It would be worth it, she insisted. Just think of the Sistine Chapel, she told herself.

She continued the mantra as the woman at the department store did her makeup. The mantra got louder as Amelia threw clothes at her over the door of the changing room. Gretchen wasn’t really into fashion. She bought clothes that were comfortable, not too expensive and relatively flattering to her shape, such as it was.

But as she turned and looked at herself in the mirror for the first time today, something changed. She was still the Gretchen she recognized, but she looked like the best possible version of herself. Those hours in the salon had left her polished and refined, the makeup highlighting and flattering her features. And although she wouldn’t admit it readily to Amelia, the clothes looked really nice on her, too.

It was an amazing transformation from how she’d woken up this morning. This department store obviously used fun-house mirrors to make her look thinner.

“I want to see,” Amelia complained. “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.”

Reluctantly, Gretchen came out of the dressing room in one of the more casual looks. She was wearing a pair of extremely tight skinny jeans, a white cotton top and a black leather jacket. It looked good, but the number of digits on the price tags was scaring her. “I only have two thousand dollars, Amelia. I don’t know how much we blew at the spa, but I’m certain I can’t afford a three-hundred-dollar leather jacket.”

Amelia frowned. “I have a charge account here. They send me a million coupons. We’ll have enough money, I promise. You need that jacket.”

“I’m going to a wedding. Isn’t it more important for me to get a nice dress?”

“Yes, but all the formals are marked down from homecoming, so we’ll get one for a good price. You’re also going to the welcome party and the rehearsal dinner. You need something casual, something more formal and a few things in between just in case you get roped into the bridal tea or something. And you’re going to own this stuff long after this week is over, so it’s important to choose good bones for your wardrobe. I like that outfit on you. You’re getting it.”

“It’s too tight,” Gretchen complained, and tugged the top away from her stomach. “I’m too heavy to wear clingy stuff like this.”

Amelia sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, but wearing bulky clothes just makes you look bigger than you are. I wore a 34F bra before I got pregnant, okay? I’ve tried hiding these suckers under baggy sweaters for years, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Well-fitting clothes will actually make you look smaller and showcase your curves.”

Gretchen just turned and went back into the dressing room. There was no arguing with her. Instead, she stripped out of the outfit and tried on another. Before they were done, she’d gone through about a dozen other outfits. In the end, they agreed on a paisley wrap dress, a gray sweaterdress with tights, a bright purple cocktail dress, and a strapless formal that looked as if it had been painted with watercolors on the full silky skirt. Gretchen had to admit the gown was pretty, and appropriate for an artist, but she wasn’t sure if she could pull any of this off. In the end, she needed to look as though she belonged on the arm of Julian Cooper.

She didn’t think there were clothes for any price that would make the two of them make sense. Julian was...the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in person. The movies didn’t even do him justice. His eyes were a brilliant shade of robin’s-egg blue, fringed in thick brown lashes. His messy chestnut-colored hair had copper highlights that caught the lights and shimmered. His jaw was square and stubble-covered, his skin tan, and when she got close, she could smell the warm scent of his cologne. It was intoxicating.

And that wasn’t even touching the subject of his body. His shoulders were a mile wide, narrowing into a thin waist and narrow hips. He’d been wearing an untucked button-down shirt and jeans when they met, but still, little was left to her imagination, they fit so well. The moment he’d opened the door, her ability to perform rational speech was stolen away. She’d felt a surge of desire lick hot at her blushing cheeks. Her knees had softened, making her glad she was wearing sensible flats and not the heels Amelia had nagged her to wear.

When it came down to it, Julian was...a movie star. An honest to God, hard-bodied, big-screen superstar. He was like an alien from another planet. A planet of ridiculously handsome people. And even though she looked pretty good in these expensive clothes with expertly applied makeup, Gretchen was still a chubby wallflower with no business anywhere near a man like him.

Men had always been confusing creatures to Gretchen. Despite years of watching her sisters and friends date, she’d never been very good with the opposite sex. Her lack of confidence was a self-fulfilling prophecy, keeping most guys at arm’s length. When a man did approach her, she was horrible at flirting and had no clue if he was hitting on her or just making conversation.

At her age, most women had a couple relationships under their belts, marriages, children... Gretchen hadn’t even been naked in front of a man before. On the rare occasion a guy did show interest in her, things always fell apart before it got that far. Her condition seemed to perpetuate itself, making her more unsure and nervous as the years went by.

Being close to any man set her on edge, and a good-looking one made her downright scattered. Julian just had to smile at her and she was a mess. She couldn’t find a normal guy to be with her; how would anyone believe a shy, awkward nobody could catch Julian’s eye? It was a lost cause, but she couldn’t convince anyone of that.

An hour later, they carried their bags out to Amelia’s car and settled on having dinner at a restaurant that was a few miles from the mall, near the golf course.

“I’m glad we could have a girls’ day out,” Amelia said as they went inside. “Tyler had to fly to Antwerp again, and I get lonely in that big house by myself.”

Amelia’s husband, Tyler, was a jewel and gemstone dealer who regularly traveled the world. They’d hired a woman named Stella to help with catering at From This Moment, so Amelia occasionally got to travel with Tyler, but the further she got in her pregnancy, the less interested she was in long flights. That left her alone in their giant Belle Meade mansion.

“In a few more months, that little girl will get here and you’ll never be alone again.”

“True. And I need your help to come up with some good names. Tyler is terrible at it.” Amelia approached the hostess stand. “Two for dinner, please.”

“Good evening, ladies.”

Gretchen turned at the sound of a man’s voice and found Murray Evans and Julian standing by the entrance behind them. Before she could say anything, Julian approached her and she found herself wrapped in his arms. He smiled at her with a warmth she would never have expected after their awkward first meeting, and he hugged her tight against the hard muscles of his chest.

She stood stiffly in his arms, burying her surprised expression in his neck and waiting for him to back off, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush. When he did finally pull away, he didn’t let her go. Instead, he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a quick kiss, but it sent a rush down her spine that awakened her every nerve. She almost couldn’t grasp what was going on. Julian Cooper was kissing her. Kissing her! In public. She couldn’t even enjoy it because she was so freaked out.

He pulled away and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You need to work on that,” he said. Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned to Amelia with a bright, charming smile.

“What good fortune that we’d run into you tonight. It must be fate. Do you mind if Murray and I join you for dinner?”

* * *

“Not at all, please,” the redhead said with a smile that matched his own. “Gretchen said the boys would be out and about today, but we didn’t expect to run into you down here in Franklin.” She had a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that made her seem like the savvy type who knew how to play the game. But judging by the curve of her belly and the rock on her hand, he knew why the redhead had been taken out of the running for his fake girlfriend.

“Excellent.” Julian turned to ask the hostess to change the table from two to four, ignoring the woman’s stunned expression. He was used to that reaction when he attempted to live a real life outside Hollywood. What bothered him more was the wrinkling of the woman’s nose as her gaze shifted to Gretchen in confusion. It made him pull her tighter to his side and plant a kiss in the silky dark strands of hair at the crown of her head.

“What are you two doing out in Franklin?” Gretchen spoke at last, squirming slightly from his arms.

“Well,” Murray began, “we wanted to play some golf. Since I live in Brentwood, coming down here to Forrest Hills is easier and we’re less likely to run into any photogs.”

The hostess gestured for them to follow her to a corner booth in the back of the restaurant. Gretchen slid into one side, and he sat beside her before she could protest. She might not be ready for their ruse to begin, but they were together in public. He hadn’t seen any photographers, but one could be around the next corner. The nosy hostess could tip someone off at the local paper. If anyone saw them together, they needed to be playing their parts.

“What are you ladies up to today?” Julian asked after the server took their drink orders.

“It’s makeover day,” Gretchen said. “Julian, this is Amelia Dixon. She’s the caterer at From This Moment. She’s also very fashionable and helped me with my full day of beauty and shopping.”

Julian shook Amelia’s hand, but he found it hard to turn away from Gretchen once he started really looking at her. She looked almost like a different woman from the one who had shown up at his hotel room the day before. He hadn’t even recognized her when they first walked in the restaurant. It wasn’t until Murray pointed out that they were the women from the chapel that he realized it was Gretchen. The changes were subtle, a refinement of what was already there, but the overall effect was stunning. She was glowing. Radiant. The straightening of her hair made an amazing difference, highlighting the soft curve of her face.

“Well, she did an excellent job. You look amazing. I can’t wait to see what you guys bought for the wedding.”

Gretchen watched him with wary eyes, as though she didn’t quite believe what he’d said. She’d looked at him that way the first night, too. She was an incredibly suspicious woman. He smiled in an attempt to counteract her suspicion, and that just made her flush. Red mottled her chest and traveled up her throat to her cheeks. It seemed as though she blushed right down to her toes. It was charming after spending time with women too bold to blush and too aware of their own beauty to be swayed by his compliments.

He’d argued with Ross that he didn’t think this was going to work after their short, strained meeting, but maybe he was wrong. They just needed to deal with her nerves so her physical reactions to him were more appropriate. She went stiff as a board in his arms, but he had some acting exercises that would help. It was probably fortuitous that they ran into each other tonight. Better they work these issues out now than at an official wedding event.

As the evening went on, it became clear that Julian knew the least about everyone there. Murray had met both women at the various planning sessions leading up to the wedding extravaganza. Julian was starting with a completely clean slate where Gretchen was concerned. Ross hadn’t even told him his date’s name before they met, and their first conversation hadn’t been particularly revealing. They wouldn’t just be posing for some pictures this week. They’d have to interact as a couple, and that meant they needed to learn more about each other if they were going to be believable.

“So you said Amelia is the caterer. What do you do, Gretchen?”

Gretchen got an odd look on her face as though she wasn’t quite sure how to describe what she did for a living. It wasn’t a very hard question, was it?

“Gretchen is our visual stylist,” Amelia said, jumping in to fill the silence.

“I have no idea what that is,” Julian admitted.

“Well, that’s why I hesitated,” Gretchen said. “I do a lot of different things. I design all the paper products, like the invitations and programs. I do all the calligraphy.”

“So you designed Murray’s invitations?”

A wide smile crossed Gretchen’s face for the first time. “I did. I was really excited about that design. I love it when I can incorporate something personal about the couple, and musical notes seemed like the perfect touch.”

“They were just what we were looking for,” Murray said.

“They were nice. I wouldn’t have remembered them otherwise.”

“Thank you. I also do a lot of the decorating and work with the various vendors to get the flowers and other touches set up for the wedding and the reception. I’m a jack-of-all-trades, really. On the day of the wedding, I might be doing emergency stitching on a bridesmaid’s dress, tracking down a wayward groomsman, helping Amelia in the kitchen...”

“Or pinch-hitting as the best man’s date?” Julian said with a chuckle.

“Apparently.” She sighed. “I was the only one that could do it.”

“You mean, you ladies weren’t clamoring over who got to spend time with me? I don’t know if I should be insulted or not.”

Gretchen shrugged and looked at him with a crooked smile that made him think maybe he should be insulted. “It’s got to be better than stitching up a torn bridesmaid’s dress, right? It’s not so bad to be around me. At least I don’t think it is. I’m fun, aren’t I, Murray?”

“Absolutely. You’re going to have a great time with Julian. Just don’t get him talking about his movies. He’ll be insufferable.”

“What’s wrong with my movies?” Julian asked with mock injury in his voice. He didn’t really need to ask. He knew better than anyone that all the films he’d done in the past few years were crap.

He’d started out at an acclaimed theater program at the University of Kentucky. He’d gotten a full scholarship out of high school, praised for his senior performance as the lead in The Music Man. He’d intended to go on to graduate and do more stage work. Maybe not musicals—he wasn’t the best singer—but he enjoyed the acting craft. Then his life fell apart and he had to drop out of school. Desperation drove him to commercial acting, and with a stroke of luck, he ended up where he was now. It wasn’t the creative, fulfilling career he’d dreamed of when he was younger, but his paycheck had more zeroes than he’d ever imagined he’d see in his lifetime.

Everyone laughed and they spent a while critiquing the plot of Bombs of Fury as their food arrived. The conversation continued on various subjects throughout the evening, flowing easily with the group. Gretchen had been quiet at first, but after talking about her work and mocking his, she started to warm up. Julian actually had a good time, which was rare, considering he was having to eat salmon and steamed broccoli while the rest of them were enjoying tastier foods. It should be against the law to be in the South and not be able to eat anything fried.

When it was over, they headed out to their cars as a group. He walked Gretchen to the passenger door of Amelia’s SUV and leaned in close to her. “I had fun tonight.”

“Yeah,” she said, nervously eyeing him as he got close to her. “It was a pleasant surprise to run into you.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Tomorrow was the welcome party and their first official time out as a couple.

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.” On reflex, Julian leaned in to give her a kiss good-night. He was stopped short by Gretchen’s hand pressed against his chest.

“You know, no one is watching us. You don’t have to pretend to want to kiss me.”

Julian smiled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years in LA, it’s that someone is always watching. But even then, I would still kiss you.”

“Why?” Her dark eyes searched his face in confusion, her brows drawn together.

She honestly didn’t think she was kissable. That was a shame. She was very kissable, with pouty lips glistening from just a touch of sparkly lip gloss. If he were interested in that sort of thing. Tonight, however, he was more focused on their cover and getting it right.

“I’m going to kiss you again because you need the practice. Every time I touch you, you stiffen up. You’ve got to relax. If it means I have to constantly paw at you and kiss you until you loosen up, so be it.” He’d had worse assignments.

Gretchen bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being touched.”

He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled it away from his chest, where she’d still been holding him back. “It’s not that hard. Just take a deep breath, tilt your head up to me and close your eyes.”

She did as she was instructed, leaning into him like a teenage girl being kissed for the first time. He shook away those thoughts and pressed his lips against hers. He’d intended it to be a quick kiss, knowing it would take a while for them to work up to a convincing one. But he found that once they touched, he didn’t want to pull away.

Gretchen smelled like berries. Her lips were soft, despite the hesitation in them. A tingle ran down his spine, the kind that made him want to wrap his arms around her and pull her soft body flush against his hard one. He settled for placing a hand on her upper arm.

She tensed immediately, and in an instant, the connection was severed. He pulled away and looked down at her, standing there with her eyes still closed.

“You did better this time,” he noted.

Her dark lashes fluttered as her eyes opened. A pink flush rushed across her cheeks as she looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Practice makes perfect, I guess.”

He laughed softly. It certainly did. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Be sure to bring extra lipstick.”

“Why?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

Julian smiled wide and took a step back toward where Murray was waiting for him. “Because I plan to remove all of it several times.”

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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