Chapter 7 #3
The deliberate pace of his touch sent a wave of anticipation coursing through Evie’s body, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against the hem of her shirt. The thin fabric barely concealed the heat of his hand, and her skin prickled with awareness.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as his fingertips lingered, just shy of crossing the boundary between fabric and bare skin.
A shiver rippled through her, involuntary and undeniable, as her imagination ran wild—what would it feel like if his hand slid higher?
If it found its way beneath her shirt, to her bare skin, her lace-trimmed bra?
The thought sent another rush of heat through her, catching her completely off guard. She wanted him to. The realization hit her hard, making her heart race even faster. Her body swayed instinctively closer to his, and her lips parted as if she might whisper his name, but no sound came out.
Just as Evie’s breath quickened, her heart racing in anticipation of what might come next, James abruptly pulled away.
His hand left her thigh, and the absence of his touch was like a sudden gust of cold air.
She felt the loss so sharply it was almost physical, as if the oxygen in the booth had been sucked away, leaving her gasping and unsteady.
For a moment, her lips still tingled from the kiss, her mind spinning with what had just happened—and what almost had. She blinked up at him, trying to ground herself, but the intensity in his gaze was gone. In its place was something cooler, controlled.
“These pictures,” James said, his voice steady, casual, as if the heat of the last few moments had been nothing but a fleeting whim, “are going to be great for a press release.”
The words hit her like a slap, sharp and stinging.
James abruptly pulled away. His hand left her thigh, and the absence of his touch was like a sudden gust of cold air. She felt the loss so sharply it was almost physical as if the oxygen in the booth had been sucked away, leaving her gasping and unsteady.
For a moment, her lips still tingled from the kiss, her mind spinning with what had just happened—and what almost had. She blinked up at him, trying to ground herself, but the intensity in his gaze was gone. In its place was something cooler, controlled.
Evie froze, her stomach twisting for an entirely different reason now. She stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up.
As Evie stepped out of the booth, her mind raced with the crushing realization that even this moment—the kiss that left her breathless and her heart pounding—was just another act in their meticulously orchestrated performance.
A fake engagement, a fake love story, and soon, a fake marriage, all because James had hired her to play the role of his fiancée.
She stopped just outside the booth, the noise of the fairground swirling around her, and drew in a shaky breath. Her fingers brushed the feather boa around her neck again, the playful prop now feeling like a mocking reminder of how easily she’d been swept up in the charade.
Behind her, James stepped out, his easy confidence radiating as he adjusted the crooked hat still perched on his head. If the kiss had affected him, he didn’t show it. Instead, his tone was light and businesslike as he fell into step beside her.
“This is exactly the kind of thing the press will eat up,” he said, glancing at her with that signature smirk that had fooled everyone, including her. “Happy, carefree photos of us together—they’ll think we’re the perfect couple.”
Evie turned to him, her stomach twisting, searching his face for any sign that the kiss had meant something more. But all she saw was his polished charm, his calculated control.
The man who had drawn her in just moments ago with a kiss that felt all-consuming was now every bit the businessman who had offered her a contract and a paycheck in exchange for her participation in his carefully crafted lie.
Forcing a tight smile, she said,
“Of course. Can’t let the world think anything less.” The words felt hollow, but they were all she could muster as her chest tightened. She had signed up for this, hadn’t she?
She’d agreed to the terms, to play the part. So why did this feel so much worse than she expected?
James gave her a look, his smirk softening slightly but not enough to break through her carefully constructed walls.
“You’re good at this, Evie,” he said, his voice low, almost like a compliment.
The right choice. That’s all this was to him—an arrangement, a calculated decision. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she might regret and nodded instead. “You’re paying for the best, remember?”
He chuckled softly, nodding as if she’d just proven his point. “Exactly.”
But as they walked toward the next booth, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension; Evie couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing herself in the role. The lines between what was real and what was fake were starting to blur—and it scared her more than she cared to admit.