CHAPTER 17
KATIE
“Wow.”
The word is out of my mouth, and my brain is too scrambled to even be embarrassed. Because standing in front of me is Nathan, shirtless, glistening with sweat. Wearing a backwards baseball cap.
Now, I’ve read the romance novels and watched the movies, so I’m familiar with how this particular look can turn a woman’s knees to jelly, but I thought I was built of tougher stuff than that. I thought I’d be the one woman on Earth immune to this brand of hotness.
I was wrong.
“Pardon?” Nathan’s brows float up to the top of his forehead, his mouth curving into a delicious smirk. Gosh, dial down the gorgeousness, Mr Jackson. I’m trying not to combust over here.
I shake my head, all my knowledge of words jumbling around my brain.
This whole thing is so surreal. First, I’m fake dating a sexy Formula 1 driver as a favour to him, then we share one bed and I wake up by myself (and not wrapped around him as the trope dictates), and now he’s a walking cliche of hotness and I can’t get my shit together.
And oh yeah, I’d also been an audacious princess last night and had labelled the man as mine. Always mine.
“Nothing.” I suck in a mouthful of drool and tear my eyes away from their happy exploration of the land known as Nathan’s naked chest. A land I’d like to move to, plant a flag on and never leave. “How was your run?”
His expression darkens, and he moves to grab a bottle of water from our well-stocked minibar, finishing the entire thing in one long gulp, his throat bobbing in a tempting way.
Get your hormones in line, Katie. He’s just hydrating. That shouldn’t make you sweat so much.
“It was fine.” He scoops up a piece of paper, small, A5 in size, from the floor where it must have been slipped under the door during the night. I’d been too obsessed with the sleeping arrangements and then the backwards baseball cap. I hadn’t noticed it. “What’s this?”
A frown grows on his face.
“What is it?” I inch closer, leaving lots of space between us while peering over his shoulder. “An itinerary for the week?”
The piece of paper in Nathan’s hand looks like silk. It’s embossed with love hearts and is handwritten in perfect calligraphy. It is one expensive-looking itinerary.
“Wow,” I breathe. “Fancy.”
Nathan tosses it to the ground, glaring at it like he wants to stomp on it. And perhaps spit on it for good measure.
“It’s over-the-top. Garish. Just like them.”
He paces away to stare at the horizon, and I follow him, picking up the itinerary and dusting it off. It may be overly opulent, but it’s still important information.
“We’re going on a yacht today?”
His shoulders bunch. “We don’t have to.”
What happened during that run? I stand next to him, nibbling on my lip as I try to work out the best way forward. “Um, isn’t that the point of being here? At least, of me being here with you? That we attend these events…together?”
He turns, turbulence in his lake blue eyes. “Not if you’re uncomfortable. Not if it means they sharpen their claws on you. Not on my watch.”
My breath catches at the intensity of his expression. Even though he asked me to be here to flaunt his new (fake) relationship in front of his family, he’s not doing it at my expense.
I melt. “Nathan, I’m stronger than you think. As long as you’re by my side; I’ll be fine.”
Indecision dances over his face, and I inch in closer, squeezing one large (oh-so-firm) bicep in my hand. “Truly. It’s fine. I want to go.”
“You do?”
I laugh. “I mean…I’ve never been on a yacht before. And if things get hairy with Vicky or George,”—I push at his chest a little to illustrate my point—“it will be man overboard.”
His face softens into a smile. “You’ve got some dark thoughts in that beautiful head of yours.”
My heart pounds and I lick my lips. He has no idea. “Yeah, well. What they don’t realise is I’ve got access to toxins in my lab. If it comes to it…I could make it appear like an accident.”
It takes a second for him to catch on, but when the penny drops, his expression is priceless. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”
I chuckle, patting his chest as I walk back into the bungalow. “I’ll let you figure that out. Now I’m off to get ready for our day on the yacht.”
His quiet but happy laugh follows me to the bathroom, and I close the door with a sense of relief.
Whatever or whomever had put that expression on his face, I’ve helped him move past it.
And that’s what I’m here for, after all.
To help him deal with these awful people he calls family.
Now I just need to suit up in my fanciest armour and help him get through the day.
?·?·?
“Jade, this is all your fault.”
My best friend’s face is alight with amusement as she gazes back at me from the screen of my phone. “It can’t be that bad.”
I pan the phone camera down to my ankles, then my feet and back up to my face. My extremely grumpy face. “It is that bad.”
Jade’s laughter booms through the phone, and I turn the volume down, sparing a glance at the door and the man I know is beyond it. “This is not helping.”
“I’m sure no one will notice them.”
The ‘them’ she’s referring to are my ankles and my feet.
My glowing white ankles and feet. Somewhere along the self-tanning application, Jade must have gotten bored, and now I’m paying the price.
Where the rest of my body is a gorgeous, glowing bronzed colour, the lower half of my legs remains pasty white.
The kind of white that suggests they haven’t seen the sun… ever.
“How did you not notice this before now?” she asks when she gets her breath back, wiping away her tears of joy.
I prop my phone against the mirror and apply face bronzer to my feet and ankles. To no avail; they refuse to accept any form of colour. “Yesterday I swapped pants for a floor-length dress. Then it was dark, and then Nathan was shirtless. None of this had me paying any attention to my ankles!”
“Hang on. Circle back. Tell me more about shirtless Nathan.”
I swallow a wistful-sounding sigh. “Jade, it’s even better than that picture in that article. It’s—he’s—perfect.”
Her gulp is loud in the quiet room. “Man, if I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you.”
“Well, maybe that’s why I have snowy white feet. Your subconscious is sabotaging me.”
She laughs loudly again. “Hey, I wouldn’t put it past me. My subconscious can be a prickly bitch.”
I giggle. Jade has a way of talking me off any ledge. Similar to Nathan. They are the calm in my messy storm. “Stop making jokes and help me.”
She taps her bottom lip. “Step back and let me get a look at you.”
Confused by her request, I do as she asks. “Why?”
“Pan the camera around so I can see you from behind.”
Again, I follow her order, contorting my body so she can see me from every angle.
“There it is. The answer is right in front of us.” She grins at me before letting out a wolf whistle. “You are so hot in that bikini; no one—and I mean no one—is going to be looking at your feet.”
I roll my eyes at her ridiculousness, propping her back up against the mirror and peering at my reflection.
Today I’m dressed in two of the most expensive pieces of fabric ever made.
It’s a flattering, designer string bikini, blue—the exact colour of Nathan’s eyes—and it covers very little of me.
Rosie had snuck it in my bags when I refused to buy it, and looking at myself now, I guess I’m grateful. In it, I know I look yacht-ready.
“You’re just saying that to keep me happy.
” I struggle into my cover-up, a crochet hollow-out knit dress in a decadent cream colour that allows for hints of the blue bikini to pop through.
Despite its name, it doesn’t cover up much, but it creates a whole vibe.
And it’s not like I have a heap of time or options to change into something else.
All my other beach wear is just as flimsy as this one.
“I do want to keep you happy. My tastebuds are craving that Duty Free giant Toblerone you promised me,” Jade says now. “But it’s also true. You go out there looking like that, and Nathan won’t be looking at your feet. Guaranteed.”
I nibble my lips. “Okay, I’m going to choose to believe you. Now, what should I do with my hair?”
Many minutes later, my hair slicked back into a ponytail I just know will give me a headache, I step out of the bathroom. And straight into Nathan’s captivating gaze.
“Wow,” he breathes, his eyes all over me.
I giggle. “You stole my line.”
His lips tip, but his expression stays intense. Almost fierce. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks.” I tighten my ponytail, turning to pull two hair ties around my wrist (just in case). “You should get ready. The yacht waits for no one.”
He brushes by me on his way to the bathroom, his still shirtless chest a whisper from mine. “Perhaps we should just stay in. I’m not sure I want to share you, looking like that.”
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and though all I want to do is pull him in closer and kiss his face off, I push him away instead. We’re here to fool his family into thinking he’s moved on; we can’t do that hiding out in here.
“Go. Get ready. It’s time to go show those people what winning in life looks like.”
His eyes flicker over me one more time, lighting every inch of my skin on fire. “With you by my side, no one will doubt just how much I’ve won.”
His softly spoken words linger in the air after he disappears into the bathroom. Phew, this pretending business is feeling more and more real by the second.
In desperate need of a distraction—and cooling down—I step outside, picking up the fancy itinerary as I go.
My brows furrow as I scan down the list. It seems Victoria and George have every inch of our week planned, leaving little time to do what I most desire.
That being lounging like a lizard in that above-water hammock with my loaded Kindle and room service on speed dial.