From Fake to Forever (6 page)

She did not want Ben Capshaw.

Now, if only she could get her eye to stop double-crossing her brain, she might be able to hold on to her self-respect before it was time for him to go back to Hollywood.

…

Ben had the nerve to pop his head in her office exactly two hours later. “Do you mind if I wait in here while the parents pick up the kids?”

Still angry with him—and herself—Sandra didn’t bother to look up from writing at her desk. “You mean hide in here while the parents pick up their kids?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I mean hide.”

She finally put her pen down and lifted her head. Ben was doing one heck of a personal repentance show for her, hovering in the doorway with wide eyes and his hands folded. She practically saw the halo hovering over his golden-brown head. “Okay,” she said. “Then no, I don’t mind.”

“Great. Thanks, Sandals.”

She looked at him sharply as he stepped in. Five seconds had barely gone by, and he already had her back on the defensive. “That I
do
mind. My name is Sandra—not Sandals.”

“Yeah, I didn’t figure you for a nickname type of woman,” he agreed, looking pleased with himself.

“Good.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against her door. “But I’ve decided you need to loosen up. That’s why I’m going to call you Sandals.”

“You know, typically a nickname is shorter than the given name.”

“Is it?” he asked in seriousness. “Ben is already kinda short, but tell you what, you can call me…”

She waited several beats, thinking of more than a few unkind examples. “I can call you what?” she finally asked.

“That’s it.” He shot her his bone-melting smile. “You can just call me. Anytime, by the way.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to give in to the smile that threatened. “That sounds like a line from one of your movies.”

He shot her a triumphant look. “Aha! I knew you were a fan.”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself. I only meant that it sounds like a very generic line from a very generic movie,” she lied.

“Ouch.” He played wounded and made a show of sticking a pretend knife into his gut and taking it out.

To be honest, she’d seen better performances by him.

Ben pulled his phone out of his back pocket and turned it on. “You know, all in all, I had a pretty good day with the kids today.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You call terrorizing the children, having to perform a funeral service for a spider, and finger paint all over your polo shirt a pretty good day?”

“Well…yeah.” He looked down and frowned. “This stuff will come out in the wash, right?”

“I’m fairly certain.” She went back to her expense report, trying her best not to laugh again. She hated to admit it, but Ben Capshaw looked adorably cute with purple and blue paint smeared down his front.

His cell phone started to ring. When he saw who was calling, he immediately answered it. “Hey, Courtney, I meant to call you.”

Courtney.
Sandra wondered who the heck Courtney was. No, she didn’t. Why would she? Courtney was probably some beautiful model slash actress slash heiress slash celebrity chaser slash fill-in-the-blank.

“No, can’t do dinner tonight,” he said in a regretful tone. “I’m out of town for a while, not sure when I’ll be back.” He paused and listened, looking bored. “You bet. Sure. I’ll call you when I can.”

He hung up, and when he met her gaze, she flinched. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped working, so utterly focused on his conversation with that woman—as if she cared or was even remotely interested. Ha! As if.

She dropped her chin and pretended to write something important down in her ledger. But what she actually wrote was
I need a life and to stop staring at Ben Capshaw.

Come to think of it, that was a pretty important reminder. Missy, Carol, Courtney, etc.… The list seemed to be growing. She didn’t need her named added to it.

“So, what are you working on?” he asked, leaning forward to see on her desk.

Her palms slammed down on top of her papers. “Weekly expenses and general bookkeeping.”

Ben sat back with a nod. “You don’t have an accountant for all that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She huffed out a breath. “For your information, Mr. Capshaw, we can’t afford to hire one.”
Yet.

“It’s Ben, and that probably takes a lot of your time.”

Tell me about it.
“I manage all right.”

He cocked his head, studying her thoughtfully. “I bet you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I study people a lot. It helps me create characters, understand where certain emotions can stem from. You strike me as the kind of person you’d want on your crew if your ship were going down. Unflappable.”

Unflappable. That was quite the compliment. She liked to think she was that, wanted to be that, but there were too many days when she thought she’d lose it. So maybe she and Ben had something in common after all. Apparently, she was just as good an actor as he was.

“I don’t know if you’d call me unflappable if you saw the way I reacted when my ex-husband told me he was leaving. The neighbors still talk about that night. Thank goodness Hannah was too young to remember,” she said with a chuckle. Then with a slight gasp, she raised her hand to her lips.
I can’t believe I told him that.

She straightened, channeling some of that rigid composure he seemed to be so fond of. “I—I mean—”

“You know, it’s okay to admit the truth,” he told her kindly. “It means you’re human.”

She gave him a look. “I know I’m human, thank you very much.”

He chuckled. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll give you a truth and then we’ll be even. That’ll show you I can be human, too.”

“I doubt one piece of trivia will accomplish that enormous feat.” Although if she were to admit another truth, it would be that she was a tiny bit interested in hearing something about him that wasn’t common knowledge to the rest of the world.

“Come on,” he cajoled, undaunted by her attitude. “Don’t you want to know a little more about me and not the actor me? It’ll pass the time while we wait for the kids to be picked up.”

“What do you mean, like that twenty-questions game?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of truth or dare, but okay. We can play whatever game you like.” His gaze traveled over her body, slow and thorough, giving her an idea of where his thoughts were going and the games he was used to playing.

A mixture of curiosity and excitement had her swallowing hard. But she hid her emotions with an amused huff as she stood and walked over to her filing cabinet.

Honestly, Ben was worse than Hannah wanting to play games. She didn’t have time to entertain his childish whims, even if they did seem…a little enticing. She needed to find the number of a handyman. The building was falling apart, and a coat of paint might gloss over the many imperfections of it. Unfortunately, she was so intent on finding an old invoice, she didn’t notice Ben come up behind her until his hands braced the filing cabinet on either side of her.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, feeling her heart slam up against her chest.

“Waiting to find out what game you want to play,” he whispered in her ear.

She felt a shiver and whirled around to face him. “I…uh…game?” She couldn’t think—or even breathe. Standing so close, all the air around her seemed snatched up. So much for unflappable.

He smiled, and her throat constricted even more. “It looks like I’ll have to pick for you,” he told her.

“B-but you can’t.” Her palms came up and flattened on his chest, but for some reason she didn’t have the extra energy to push him away. She swallowed. “Someone will see.”

His lips curved into a grin. “Your office door is closed.”

“Is it?” She glanced past him. Sure enough, her door was shut tight, and it was just the two of them enclosed by four walls and no windows. Was it any wonder she was finding it so hard to breathe?

“Mr.… Ben…I don’t want to—”

He kissed her then.

Ben Capshaw was kissing her. And what a kiss it was.

Feeling his hands travel up her arms and cup her face created an unfamiliar sensation she wasn’t prepared for. That’s why she kissed him back. It had nothing to do with him being a celebrity or the man himself. Or the incredible scent of his skin. Or the fact that she hadn’t kissed a man since her divorce.

He pressed his body—the one she’d been so preoccupied with lately—against her, hard and firm, and her legs wobbled. His arms came around her, holding on to her as if he were dangling off a bridge. He felt so good.
This
felt so good. It didn’t matter that she was kissing a famous movie star or what he must be thinking at that moment.

Their tongues touched briefly, and she heard him moan. It had been so long since she had felt or incited that kind of reaction. She felt like an actual woman again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself farther into him, enjoying his response. If Ben was just acting again, he was doing a fine job of it. Maybe too fine. But she didn’t care. Not now. She let her better judgment take a short hike—for once—and gave in to this small, reckless moment of a kiss anyway.

“Mommy, I need a Band-Aid!” Hannah yelled outside the door. And just like that, better judgment came back with a vengeance.

Her hands flew to Ben’s chest, and she broke the kiss. Humiliation at her wantonness wouldn’t allow her to look at him, but she did manage a “Sorry” through her uneven breathing.

“I’m not,” he said.

Of course he wasn’t. He probably made out in back offices all the time. “What I meant was that was a mistake on my part. I don’t want to play these kinds of games with you anymore.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond with anything smart-alecky or arrogant—didn’t even wait for him to step away from her. Instead, she gathered what was left of her self-respect and rushed to her daughter.

Chapter Five

“And then Ben spun a ball on his finger. Well, of course, all the children had to try it, too. You should have seen it. It was the cutest thing.” Missy reached for the coffeepot, still smiling from her long and drawn-out Ben Capshaw story, and poured herself another cup.

Sandra drummed her fingers on her kitchen table and struggled for serenity. “Yeah, that’s quite a story. Look, can we not talk about Ben Capshaw anymore tonight, please?”

Sandra had invited her to come over to her house so they could have a nice, sisterly chat and have a distraction. She wanted to discuss shades of lipstick, who the next Bachelor would pick, the newly appointed justice of the Supreme Court—
anything
besides Ben Capshaw. But instead, Missy was driving her one block short of the loony bin with the whole play-by-play of her first teaching day with Ben. All she’d heard since Missy had first stepped in the door was Ben this and Ben that. Ben, Ben, Ben!

As if Ben hadn’t plagued her mind enough since this afternoon. The man—in all his super-celebrity audacity—had grabbed her, right there in her very own office, and kissed her. What was worse was she’d kissed him back. And not just one of those closed-mouthed, first-cousins-twice-removed type of kisses, either. She practically took a personal working inventory of his entire oral cavity. The man definitely knew how to use his mouth.

No big shock there. After all, she’d hate to count the number of women he had to kiss in front of the camera, let alone in private. And now, being the weak, sex-starved moron she was, she had to go and add herself to that ever-growing list.

Missy took another sip of coffee. “But I have another cute Ben story to tell. Why don’t you want to hear it?”

“I just don’t, okay?” She felt a strong surge of guilt over snapping at her sister, but she couldn’t do anything to rein in her testy behavior. “Look, save your enthralling Ben Capshaw stories for someone who’s interested. Like Carol. I, for one, am not interested.” Without thinking, she picked up her cup and slugged down the rest of her coffee as if she were doing shots at a bar. Thankfully, the coffee had cooled.

Missy continued to stare, her eyebrows forming a small, blond V. “You seem a little uptight whenever I mention Ben’s name.”

All she could do was snort in response.

“Is there something going on between you and Ben Capshaw?” Missy asked.

“W-what?” she spluttered. “That’s ridiculous. Laughable, really.” She tried to smile to prove her point, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. She was really a terrible liar. “There’s nothing going on between me and Ben Capshaw. I can’t stand the man.”

Missy’s big blue eyes narrowed farther. Uh-oh. Missy might have looked the sweet, dumb-blonde part, but she was far from it. Sandra started to sweat. “Come to think of it, you both were acting kind of funny today.”

“Funny?” Sandra swallowed and shifted in her chair. “Oh. That’s because of the whole Herbie fiasco, I’m sure.”

Missy played with her earring and looked away in thought. “Maybe. But after school, I definitely saw Ben come out of your office looking a little dazed. At first, I chalked it up to it being his first full day with the kids, but now…”

Sandra froze. Even though Missy was her sister, she still couldn’t bring herself to confide the truth. Partly because she was too embarrassed, but mostly because she hated admitting she’d lost control like that. Something very unusual for her, but it was happening a lot lately. Lately meaning since she met Ben.

Her sister looked at her again and paled. “Oh my goodness! It’s true, isn’t it? Something
is
going on between you two.”

She started to shake her head then blurted, “How did you know? Oh my gosh, am I wearing a neon
I Kissed Ben Capshaw
sign on my forehead or something?”

“Hot damn! You
kissed
Ben Capshaw?”

Sandra groaned. This was so not the conversation she wanted to have tonight. “He kissed me first,” she was quick to point out. “But yes, we kissed. Happy? Because I’m not.” She plunged her head in her hands.

“Wow. He kissed
you
?”

She whipped her head up. “Hey, why are you so surprised? Can’t a divorced mother of a four-year-old be sexually attractive to a handsome, rich celebrity superstar?” She threw a hand up before Missy could formulate an answer. “Never mind. I just heard how ridiculous that sounded.”

Missy frowned. “It’s not ridiculous at all. You’re beautiful—on the inside and out.”

“Not beautiful enough to keep a husband,” she murmured.

“Don’t say that! Honey, you know that’s not the reason you and Steve broke up.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “I’m just feeling pitiful and a little sorry for myself right now. I called Steve last week to see if he wanted to spend time with Hannah, you know, since he’ll be in New York for a few months. Well, you’d think our existence was a total inconvenience to that stupid show he’s in. Dealing with him has just been a nightmare. I think that’s why I let that kiss with Ben happen today. I know it sounds crazy, but it was so nice to be reckless for once.”

A silence of understanding fell between them. Missy knew that Sandra’s divorce from Steve was painful, and she hadn’t been with a man—let alone kissed one—since their separation. It had been unbearable to discover that the man she chose to love and cherish no longer felt the same about her, or even his own child. Enough of a blow to not make her want to rush right out and try her hand at dating again anytime soon—not that she was foolish enough to believe Ben Capshaw was looking for something as mundane as a date with her.

Missy jumped up and opened the freezer. Then she started searching the cupboards. When she found what she was looking for, she turned back and plopped a box of animal crackers on the table. “This is the most unhealthy thing I could find in your house, but it’ll have to do.”

“I’ll pass.” She wasn’t in the mood for one of her sister’s grazefests. Her stomach muscles were scrunched up so tight, she had a hard time even keeping the coffee down.

Missy opened the box and helped herself. “So…are you like…dating him now?” she asked between mouthfuls of cookie. “Not that I’m jealous—well, maybe just a little because he’s so hot, but the more I get to know him the more I consider him like a brother. So if you
were
dating him, I’d be super cool with that.”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah,” she countered, still smiling. “Didn’t you read it in
Celebrity Insider
yet?”

Missy stopped chewing. “What? It could happen. Tell me why it couldn’t happen.”

“Give me a break, Miss. He’s not interested in me. Not really, anyway. Acting is in his nature. Believe me, I know the type firsthand. Ben enjoys playing these kinds of games. Do you know he even had the gall to tell me my eye twitches when I lie?”

“He noticed that?” Missy looked away, suddenly fussing with a napkin she didn’t need. “To tell you the truth…your eye does kind of twitch when you’re not being honest.”

“Really?”

Missy shoved another cookie in her mouth and confirmed her statement with a shrug.

“Why didn’t anybody tell me that before?” And how did a stranger she’d known for less than forty-eight hours discover it so fast? In all the years she’d known Steve, he could never read her simplest pout.

“Sorry, but secret information you can use for your own personal advantage you don’t exactly want to divulge too soon.” With a halfhearted smile, she pointed to her eye. “That’s why I suspected something happened between you and Ben. But look on the bright side—at least the cat’s out of the bag now.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a relief. Now if I can just unload this Canadian quarter in my wallet, my day would really be looking up.”

Missy sniffed. “If it’s any more of a consolation, you’re a terrible liar. Even without the eye twitch, I can tell when you’re holding something back from me. It must be a sisterly thing.”

“How come when I was born I didn’t get those kinds of superpowers?”

Just then, Hannah came running in the kitchen. “Mommy, Mommy! When I washed my hands, my boo-boo didn’t hurt!”

Sandra opened her arms and swept her up onto her lap. “That’s great, honey. That Band-Aid’s really doing its job.”

That Band-Aid. That sweet, beautiful Sesame Street Band-Aid. The same one that prevented her from making an even bigger spectacle of herself in front of Ben Capshaw today—thank goodness. She squeezed her daughter in a tight, grateful hug.

Hannah squirmed. “Mommy, you hug me too much!”

Sandra grinned at Missy. “Did you hear that?” she asked, tickling Hannah. “She’s practically ready to move off on her own and rent an apartment in SoHo.”

“Mommy, stop!” Her daughter laughed. As her laugh grew louder, it rang sweet and infectious.

Missy reached out and tweaked Hannah’s nose. “I love that laugh of yours.”

“Me, too.” Too bad her ex-husband couldn’t appreciate little things like that. Steve never took an interest in any of Hannah’s little personality quirks or talents, always claiming he didn’t have time to notice them because of his work. Deep down, she knew it was really because he didn’t care.

She let Hannah wiggle free with a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Okay, it’s bath time, sweetie.”

Hannah held up two tiny fingers. “Um, how about two more minutes?”

“You said that same thing ten minutes ago. Now scoot.” She pointed, and Hannah giggled again as she ran off toward the bathroom.

Sandra stood and handed Missy the TV remote control. “You’re going to have to entertain yourself now. I’ll be back in a few with one fully scrubbed child.”

Missy turned on the TV and started flipping channels. “Okay. But what are you going to do about Ben?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Nothing.”

Missy’s attention quickly broke away from the
Seinfeld
rerun she’d put on. “
Nothing?
A handsome movie star takes an interest in you and you’re going to do nothing?”

“That’s right.” Sandra folded her arms, pleased she was back in control and feeling like her old self again. “Nothing. Goldilocks has two more days, and then he’ll be on a plane back to Hollywood and off to wreck some other preschool in the woods. So I’m going to ignore what happened. Then, after he’s gone, we’ll see if it’s in our budget to fix up the school and maybe spruce it up with some paint.”

Missy shook her head, a small smile of wonder on her lips. “Only you, Sandra, would think about giving the school a makeover rather than your own romance. I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it.” She wasn’t about to allow herself to fall into the same old trap, the same old heartbreak. Of that she was certain. But just in case her eye was feeling extra twitchy, she covered it with her hand for good measure as she left to bathe her daughter.

…

Ben stared at Sandra’s office door as he shifted the package he held in his hands. He wondered which Sandra he was going to meet with this morning—the cold, snappish one or the hot, compliant one.

He had a sneaking suspicion, which was why he’d brought the gift. He wasn’t about to take any chances with her mood. She didn’t seem the type to slug a man bearing a gift. But then again, he deserved it.

He was a rat—he darn well knew it—cornering her like that against the filing cabinet yesterday like some bizarro-world Don Juan. But his ego couldn’t take anymore of her chin-thrusting denials of their attraction. So when the opportunity presented itself, he’d grabbed at the chance to prove it to her once and for all.

Of course, he hadn’t planned on taking it so far. But once he gazed at that beautiful wide mouth of hers, something inside him just snapped. Looking back on it now, he supposed he’d wanted to kiss her all along.

Wanted to?

That was an understatement. Hell, he’d
needed
to. He’d needed to kiss her ever since the first day she turned that very refined nose up in the air at him. And now that he had kissed those silky-soft lips, he wanted to do it again—and much more. Hopefully, with a little softening after this gift and a little sweet talk on his part, Sandra would be right back where he left her before her daughter interrupted them. Under his lips. And willingly back in his arms.

Ben raised a fist, but before he could knock, her office door swung open. She stood there before him, hair swept up like a prim librarian. She wore no makeup except some pink gloss on her lips, and she wore a plain brown shirt that was buttoned unfashionably to her neck. He almost smiled.

Poor misguided Sandra. She obviously thought that would keep him at a distance. Unfortunately for her, her efforts to downplay her appearance were in vain. Hot was hot, no matter what she tried to do. And she looked hot. In fact, he’d never seen her look better, aside from the day at the park when he’d first spotted her wearing sweats and that old Red Sox T-shirt.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” she asked, her blue eyes boring into him.

He held in a sigh. His suspicions were right on the money. There was an ice storm brewing right before his eyes. It kind of turned him on—not because he liked cold women, but because those snowballs she hurled were directed toward him and him alone. “Yeah, but first I have something for you.”

She took a cautious step back. “What is it?”

“Peace offering.” He held up the package.

With some hesitation, she took it from his hands and tore off the wrapping paper. She saw it was an ant farm but looked far from amused at his little bug joke. Damn. It had seemed like a good idea yesterday. He’d pictured them sharing a chuckle over it. Now he kicked himself for not bringing flowers, too. Why was he such an idiot when it came to real life?

“Thank you,” she finally said. “But is this a peace offering for the spider incident or for the kiss?”

“The spider incident, of course.”

“Of course.”

He chuckled. “Well, as much as you like to overlook it, the fact is I am a man. And I very much enjoyed kissing you. Why should I apologize for that?”

“How about because it was unprofessional and uncalled for?”

“Uncalled for? Now don’t get all
Pride and Prejudice
on me. You wanted that kiss as much I did. You just didn’t know it.” He couldn’t help but grin. “That discovery was what made it so fun.”