14. 14
“Y
ou know,” Delaney says, “they aren’t going away. In fact, with the proof that we’re in here, only more will come.” Her arms are still draped around my neck, her breath sweet and warm on my neck.
“Yes, but not even Lars will like photography in the gallery. And I’ve got a police friend in my pocket.” With my hands, I gently pick up Delaney’s wrists and lower her arms to her side.
She swallows and pink floods her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“Actually.” I drop my gaze to her stomach. “My cell is still—” My eyes lock on the small bulge at her tummy.
“Oh.” She gives me a false grin. “Right.” She untucks her pink top and catches my phone as it slips past the snap on her jeans. She holds it out to me.
The cell is warm and clammy after spending the last twenty minutes next to Delaney’s stomach.
I dial Nina and hold my phone—that might even strangely smell of Delaney, sweet and floral—next to my ear. “You might need a little help,” I tell her after explaining the situation.
I shove my cell into my pocket, and Delaney pushes her long blonde braid off her shoulder to hang down her back. “All right. Ready?”
“Ready?” I say, not computing.
“Are you with me one hundred percent, Miles Bailey?”
Engaged. Married. It’s not as if this deal is going to mess up my social life. So, why not marriage to get my building? I run my hand over my chin and blow out an exasperated breath. I might be going crazy. “One hundred percent.”
Delaney nods and loops one arm through mine. With her other, she leans forward and opens up the closet door.
A myriad of flashes blind us and I hold out one hand, trying to block the blinding lights.
“Are you done?” Delaney asks.
“Who is he, Lane?”
“How long have you been seeing this man?”
“Is this why Patrick dumped you before you could dump him? Were you cheating behind the scenes?”
“No,” I say before Delaney can get anything out. “No cheating.” My mother would kill me.
Her hand on my forearm squeezes, while her other sets to her hip. “You all saw the show. I was not in love with any of those men—and I tried to tell them as much. They wouldn’t let me. Miles wasn’t in the picture then. The show may have aired recently, but it ended months ago.” She gives a small definitive nod, letting them know this is the end of the cheating talk.
“Lane, are you saying you’re in love with this man?” the man I called Nina on yesterday asks. So many things fall into place with that recognition.
“I would hope so. He is my husband.”
Her words only get us another round of flashing cameras.
“So, why hide in the closet?” says another.
“Miles is new to this.” She nods toward the men and their cameras. “Besides, I wasn’t ready to share him with you or anyone else.” She peers up at me with her words. Her eyes remind me that my job is to make this believable. No one can doubt.
Right?
Her chin lifts, her eyes scanning from mine to my lips. Lane Jonas is giving me permission to kiss her. I see it in her eyes.
“Miles?” says one of the men. “Miles what?” He’s holding out his phone, ready to record whatever it is we recite. And I’m guessing, ready to look up every ounce of dirt he can find on me.
Great.
There isn’t any dirt. At least nothing criminal. Unless giving Owen a wedgie when I was ten is against the law. But that doesn’t mean the thought of someone creeping through my personal life isn’t disturbing.
I turn back to Delaney, who continues to watch me, still giving me permission. I slip my arm around her back and pull her closer to my side. “Miles Jonas,” I say before leaning in. Delaney blinks, her eyes fluttering closed. But I touch my lips to her forehead, pressing a lingering kiss there. The woman smells like she bathed in a tub of roses: sweet, floral, and completely inviting. Her skin is soft and smooth. And I swear it wants me to touch it.
I’m trying to remember what it is she asked me to do. Not fall in love with her, right? Because that’s the only way our plan fails.