3. Lana
three
lana
“Hey Viv!” I tried to make my voice sound as cheerful as possible. “I’m sorry to get your voicemail, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m going to a conference in San Diego for a couple of days. One of my vendors is going to be there and invited me, and it’s a great opportunity. So much I won’t have to call Jenna after all,” I shared. It wasn’t the first time I had attended a work conference.
“So, if you need me for anything, just call or text me, ‘kay? Love you! I’ll try you again soon. Be safe, ‘kay?” I blew her a kiss and hung up. I placed the phone on top of my dresser and looked at myself in the mirror. “What are you doing, Lana?” I asked myself, but even I couldn’t answer.
“I have a better idea,” he’d said, and I listened.
A getaway.
One where I had to not only be his date for some ball but pretend to be his girlfriend. It was like every romance novel and fantasy I’d had of him had been shaken up in a snow globe and somehow, all the pieces had fallen perfectly in place.
I’d surprised myself. When he suggested his little deal, all I wanted to do was say yes. What is wrong with me? The man was a self-entitled, pompous ass. Why did I want to be around him? Much less travel with him? And pretend to be his! His? Holy crap, I had a feeling I was completely in over my head with this! I needed to pretend to be his girlfriend. I hadn’t had a boyfriend since high school!
“It’s one small party,” I said to myself. “That’s all. One party, and I won’t have to take on a second job,” I mumbled to myself. A knock sounded, and I didn’t have to look up to know it was Wilson Harding. But I still glanced up, and our eyes connected through the mirror.
“All ready?” he asked, and I nodded. My heart felt like it was beating a little quicker around him, yet I was weirdly comfortable with him.
There was no denying how attractive he was. Or the pull I felt when I was around him. Not to mention the way every molecule that made me who I was livened up at the mere touch of his hand on mine.
You would have to be blind not to feel drawn to a man like him.
But that wasn’t what this was about. You’re not a prostitute. All he needs is a date. That’s it. For all you know, he’s gay and just needs some arm candy, I thought to myself and turned around.
“I’m ready.” I headed towards my luggage and didn’t realize he was doing the same. We reached my bag at the same time. It sat on the edge of my bed, and we bumped into one another. One of his long, muscular arms wrapped around my waist.
“Shit, sorry.” “Sorry.” We both apologized almost at the same time. I looked up at him and felt my face turn hot.
It felt good to be held. It had been along time since I was on a date and even longer since I’d had sex. Not to mention the last time I got myself off was to the image of the man who was holding me. That’s what this is, I excused, knowing I was lying to myself. I need to go out and get laid!
We were so close to my bed that image after image bombarded my mind. Ones of him and me wrapped up tightly in a cinch where his hand explored my body while he took every stitch off me and left me naked and panting.
“Lana?” His deep voice rumbled so beautifully my skin broke out into goose bumps.
“Yes?” My chest rose and fell, and my room suddenly not only felt warmer but smaller.
“What are you thinking about?” His voice sounded raspy. Was I going up on the tips of my toes, or was he dropping his face a little closer?
“Toothpaste,” I blurted. I wasn’t sure why, but the two of us froze. I watched his Adam’s apple bob, and instead of licking it like I was dying to, I kept rambling. “Toothpaste,” I repeated. “I should pack some, and then we can go!” I stepped away, almost stumbling and tripping on my own feet.
But once again, there he was.
Wilson Harding saving me from myself, and damn if that wasn’t something I could easily get used to!