16. rule one
rule one
MARLEY
My head is throbbing way too much to go to the front office as I planned. My only thought right now is pain medicine and sleep. Yesterday had been physically and emotionally draining. And lying to a woman who inspired my career path doesn’t feel good at all either.
I enter Othello’s suite, the smell of fresh jasmine hitting my nose as I step inside.
Housekeeping must have been here, but then again, the place has been in pristine condition since we arrived last night.
Even the sofa where Othello had slept is tidy.
No extra pillows or blankets. His large suitcase and bag are nestled in a corner near the TV.
I feel bad that he’s sacrificing his own comfort for me.
Hopefully, I’ll be out of his hair before the night is through.
On the coffee table is a gift basket, and next to it something that looks like a journal.
I approach the ivory wicker basket, wondering if it came from the hotel.
There is a card resting on a small arrangement of orchids.
And when I see the engraved stainless steel cup, I know the basket is from Gavin and Carina.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the bathroom door open. Othello steps out into the living room, and my eyes go wide.
He gasps in surprise. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry,” he says apologetically.
“I didn’t know you were here,” we both say in unison.
I try to look away, but my eyes are glued to his damp chest, water trickling down the carved lines of his muscles. The bulge from between his legs doesn’t go unnoticed either. Othello’s eyes follow my gaze, and he clenches the towel tight around his waist.
“My clothes are in here,” he says, pointing toward the suitcase I’d seen earlier. He brushes past me.
He smells amazing. That same incense and mandarin cologne he’d been wearing on the plane.
I turn and face the wall on the opposite side of the room, not knowing what else to do.
I can hear Othello rummaging through his things before he brushes past me again.
I turn away, again, facing where he’d just come from.
“Gonna change in the bathroom,” he says.
I groan quietly under my breath, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. This has to be so annoying and uncomfortable for him. He’s supposed to be enjoying his suite. Maybe even free-balling around buck naked, and I’m in here disturbing the peace.
“Um, I didn’t get a chance to see if my room is available, but I promise, I’ll check on that tonight.” I step into the bedroom and drop my bag on the dresser.
“I checked for you this morning. There’s nothing left,” he hollers from behind the closed bathroom door.
The statement jars me, my overthinking already kicking into gear and spiraling with questions.
Is he rushing me to get out? Ready for me to leave.
Am I becoming an inconvenience? A temporary situation that’s overstayed its welcome?
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.
He comes out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of lightweight tropical print shorts and a matching short-sleeve shirt with buttons and a Cuban collar. There are slides on his feet, and I admire how well-groomed they look. Everything about Othello screams, Grown Man.
“What did you say?” he asks, stepping into the room with me. His fingers are still working on buttoning his shirt, and I sneak a peek at his broad chest and Hershey brown nipples.
“Nothing, I was just thanking you for checking for me.” I lean against the dresser and cross my arms.
“It was nothing. So, are you centered and balanced?”
I muster up a smile and try to focus on his eyes instead of his sculpted arms and how good he looks in this outfit.
Good lord, he must not ever miss a day at the gym.
“Something like that. It was an interesting session. I met Carina’s mother.”
“Word?” He says, eyes bulging in surprise.
“Yeah. It turned out to be just the two of us at Sunrise Yoga. And I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that she’d be here at the resort too. Carina is her daughter, after all. I have always been inspired by Collette. She’s kind of my idol.”
Othello’s face lights up, and he leans against the dresser near where I’m sitting. “I didn’t realize.”
“Yeah, I adore Collette. It was a really nice chat,” I say, before sighing. “But now I feel like a hypocrite.”
“A hypocrite? How?”
“I basically gave you the third degree last night for lying, and then I turn around and do the exact same thing.”
“Ah,” he says and gives me a sincere smile. “One thing about Collette is that she’s an understanding woman. If it really bothers you, I can talk to her. Clear things up before tonight so you don’t have to feel guilty about it.”
“And ruin things before they even start?” I shake my head violently, which causes a dull ache to bloom behind my eyes. “That might make things more awkward.”
I cringe at the thought of me and Othello standing before the great Collette Randolph to tell her that we lied to her.
I’m sorry you got to know me under false pretenses, but I’m actually very single, and Othello is just a guy I have a crush on who told a ridiculous lie because he’s probably still in love with your daughter.
Yeah, absolutely not.
I can see my reputation taking a hit and a potential friendship crumbling before it ever has a chance to flourish.
“True. Damn. I feel bad for putting you in this position.”
“As you should,” I say with a half-smile. And this only makes him chuckle. I exhale and fall back into the armchair. “Looks like I don’t have a choice but to be your girlfriend this week.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teases.
“This is a bad thing. I’ve lied to this woman.”
“I meant the being my girlfriend part.”
I purse my lips, and Othello studies me with those warm, ridiculously distracting eyes. “Are you sure about this?”
There is only one answer to that question: hell yeah. I mean, Collette said she wanted to talk to me about my magazine. For what or why, I have no clue. But why would I block a potential opportunity to score whatever gems she’s bound to drop?
This whole pretend thing won’t be so bad, right? Othello is fun. We have fun. I enjoy his company. He enjoys mine, I think. I mean, even though he is trying to rush me out of his room.
I lift my gaze back to him, more certain now.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” I stand and give him a pointed look. “But if we do this, we’re doing it my way.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He closes the gap between us, invading my personal space, and I can’t help but notice the lustful gleam in his eye.
“Tell me your commands.”
I lift a finger. “Rule one: no kissing.”
“How believable would that be if I don’t kiss you, Marley?”
I shrug. He has a point.
“Okay, anywhere but the lips.”
He raises an eyebrow, a lustful grin spreading across his face. I swat him on the shoulder.
“Anywhere on my face, except my mouth!” I correct myself.
“Noted,” he says, suppressing a laugh.
“Rule two: No leaving me alone. I don’t want to be stranded with your ex or the Satin Mafia.”
“Wait, the who?” He barks out a laugh.
“Her mean girl clique. Look, never mind what I call them. Rule three: no flirting with other women when we’re together.”
He shakes his head and laughs lightly. “Now, why the hell would I do that?”
“Because I saw the way those bridesmaids were looking at you. The one with the short hair was ready to risk it all for you right there in the lobby.”
“Oh wow,” he says, massaging his chin.
“What? You’re handsome, I get it. And I mean, I don’t blame you if you wanted to shoot your shot. They’re gorgeous women. But even if we are faking it, I don’t want you making me look like a fool.”
“Trust me, I won’t be looking at them, let alone thinking about them.”
The way he looks at me makes my heart leap into my throat, and I swallow. His proximity breaks my focus.
I clear my throat and murmur, “Ok, rule number four: you have to promise not to cross any lines. No slipping out of character. We go by the script until this vacation is over, and we keep this simple.”
For the sake of me not falling too deeply.
Othello’s lips curve as he ponders the rules I set. I shove him playfully in the chest.
“Othello!”
“Okay, I promise,” he says earnestly. I can’t stop myself from watching his mouth when he says this. Those full, delicious lips.
Lord, help me.
I realize we’re way too close. And I’m feeling way too hot.
Very hot.
I take a step back, putting much-needed space between us. “I should…take a nap. My head is killing me,” I tell him.
“Did you take any more medicine?”
“Not since this morning.”
“You should take a nap. With all the chaos yesterday, I’m sure you’re mentally and physically drained. You honestly haven’t had much time to sleep. You went to bed late and then got up pretty early for yoga.”
I nod, because he’s absolutely right.
“Yeah.”
There’s a brief pause, but the energy is still buzzing. Radiating loud and hard.
“I’m actually headed to a sandcastle contest, so that’s where I’ll be.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Sandcastle contest.”
“There is an entire itinerary for this week. Sorta reminds me of your vacation agenda,” he chuckles.
“Which is officially out the window now.”
“Hey, like I said. Any time with me is a good time.”
I almost drool.
I believe it.
“Let’s get you settled,” he says and pulls the blankets back on the bed.
I watch him, my eyes drifting to his butt, which is ridiculously cute.
He grabs the Tylenol from the nightstand and pours two into my hand like he’d done the last time.
I reach into my canvas bag on the dresser and pull out a water bottle.
He watches me take the meds, then gives me a satisfied smile.
“Alright, you should be good after a nap.”
“Shower first. And then nap,” I correct him.
We stand there awkwardly for a second, and then he sighs. “Alright, I guess I’ll see you later.”
“You will see me later,” I assure him.
He leans in close and for a minute I think he’s going to kiss me on the lips, but his mouth lands ever so gently on the curve of my jaw.
“I think I’m already regretting rule one,” he whispers in my ear.
My cheeks flush.
“Don’t cross that line,” I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I promise to behave.”
He heads towards the door, leaving so fast, I feel like what just happened may have been my imagination.