Pretending He's Mine (3 page)

She picked up the picture frame, as if the dog with his tan and brown face had all the answers. “Tell me who’d be perfect for this role,” she said to the dog’s image. Then she pressed the frame to her chest and closed her eyes. He had to be sexy, but he had to have a touch of innocence to him. Why was it that men didn’t ever want to project a little bit of innocence? Was that such a bad thing? But so few were willing to show that side, as if being vulnerable, being fresh, would somehow shred every last ounce of masculinity from a man? Her ideal man would need a bit of the wide-eyed wonder that a superhero has when he first learns he has special powers. She scrolled through her photographic memory of faces, mentally crossing off all the ones that just wouldn’t do. Then, like a jack-in-the box springing to life, she shouted a victorious “yes!”

She placed the frame gently on her desk and moused over to the file she kept on her desktop from every single audition she’d ever held, clicking until she found the man she had in mind. Yes. He was every bit the boy toy. He was every cougar’s dream, even though Sutton wasn’t a cougar. But she’d always had a bit of a crush on him. He was adorable, and yet, had that chased-with-danger look in his eyes. She’d never regretted calling him in for any audition. He was witty, clever, and frankly, irresistible.

But the best part was she could never truly fall for him because she simply wouldn’t go there with an actor. She didn’t trust actors with her heart, and had never dated one for real, so she’d have a built-in safety net. They’d both simply be trying to get a job.

She hit the speaker button on her phone, stabbing it with a perfectly manicured fingernail, polished in midnight black. Sutton wasn’t a woman who needed to wear fire-engine red to look sexy. Sutton was sexy. She’d been born and bred that way, with long legs, a flat belly and curves where she needed them. Her long brown hair was twisted on top of her head, and she wore her trademark black cat’s eye glasses. She was twenty-eight, but she looked young for her age and that’s why she wore glasses—so she’d be taken more seriously. The whole effect made her look like a sexy librarian.

As she started to dial the number, she noticed the time on her computer clock. It was noon on a Monday. Could she pull this off in one week? Time was unspooling into a messy stew. She’d have to speed it up and fast track this deal. She dialed the rest of the number, hoping her hunch was right.

Reeve punched a fist in the air when he hung up with his agent. He’d scored an audition, one with a casting director he’d worked with before. He’d tried out for It’s Raining Men, and had returned for a second and third callback, but lost out on a supporting role. He’d snagged a day role though, as a bartender at the strip club. The bigger roles had gone to bigger names. But now she wanted to see him, and his agent had sounded so enthusiastic that Reeve couldn’t help but be fired up. Sutton Brenner, very British and very sexy, wanted to see him two hours from now.

Reeve popped up from the couch in his cardboard box-sized apartment, dropped his phone on the scratched and beaten-up wooden coffee table, and changed into one of his favorite tee-shirts, reviewing all the things he knew about Sutton Brenner as he brushed his teeth. The movies she’d cast, the shows she’d worked on. Then there were the personal details. She had a dog who was the center of her world, and Reeve was pretty sure the dog had a strange name. As he capped the toothpaste, he remembered the name.

He checked himself out in the cracked mirror on the closet door. Yep. He looked the way casting directors wanted him to look—young and dreamy, but with a bit of an edge. The kind of guy you could clean up with a short haircut, button-down shirt and pants and bring home to mom and dad, but the same guy a girl would gladly slide in behind on a motorcycle for a ride to a secluded make-out spot. Those were the roles he knew he could win. He left and headed for Sutton Brenner’s Madison Avenue office. The receptionist showed him in immediately. At the end of a long hallway, Sutton stood in the doorway, one hand on the door, the other on her waist, looking like a tall drink of woman.

If he’d met her under different circumstances, say, a bar, or a club, he’d have walked straight up to her, asked her name, bought her a drink, and then charmed her. She’d have been an even match, giving it good with quips and witticisms that made her sound even smarter and savvier with her oh-so-proper British accent. She’d have done that hair flip thing, all the more alluring with her long, thick brown hair, then hooked him in with those cool blue eyes. Then he’d have hailed a cab for her, and given her a long, slow, lingering kiss by the curb that would have melted her from the inside out. She’d have said, “Come home with me.” He’d have done just that and discovered whether she wore thigh-high stockings as he always suspected. He’d have peeled them off her long, lean legs—peeled them off with his teeth.

But he needed to focus on business, on work, on playing whatever part she required for him, and he was sure none of those included removing her stockings, so he cleared her curves from his thoughts.

“Come in, Reeve,” she said, and closed the door behind them. She gestured to her couch. He sat down, doing his best to project coolness and confidence. Whatever Sutton was casting, Reeve was sure those were vital character traits.

She sat next to him. That was odd. Most casting directors sat across from actors, but she moved so near he couldn’t help but notice that she did indeed wear thigh-high stockings, the lace edges peeking out from below the hemline of a short black skirt that could have been painted on her. She had on a white blouse, and one or two buttons were undone. Her hair was pinned up and her sexy glasses made him think “hot-for-teacher.”

“Good to see you again, Ms. Brenner.”

She laughed lightly. “Do call me Sutton, please.”

He flashed a crooked smile. “Sutton it is then. How’s your dog? The Artful Dodger, right?”

Sutton grinned brightly. “You remember.”

“Little chihuahua-mini pin, right?”

“He is absolutely the love of my life. He’s such a darling.”

“What does he do when you’re at work?”

“Why, he goes to dog day care, of course,” she said, playfully. Then she laid a hand on Reeve’s thigh. “As if I would leave my darling alone.”

“Dogs rock. They’re just the best creatures ever, aren’t they?”

Sutton beamed at Reeve, and squeezed his thigh. “I am so glad I called you.”

♦ ♦ ♦

This might work out better than she planned. Reeve was her type physically, he liked movies, and he liked dogs. He was the perfect pretend boyfriend. Not to mention, she rather enjoyed the feel of his thigh beneath her palm. His legs were strong and muscular, and his jeans were the best kind of tight. He worked out, but he didn’t work out too much, and that was vital.

Perfect—she was attracted enough to pull this off. But she’d keep up her barriers so it would be all business. “Reeve, I have a part for you. It’s a bit unconventional, and it’s sort of a live theater type of role.”

“Can’t wait to hear about it,” he said and Sutton admired his voice. It was silky and melodic, the kind of voice that could sell you anything.

“It’s also a part that’s, how shall we say, off the books? Sort of a secret deal.”

“Secrets make everything better,” he said, with a playful wink. He waited for her to say more.

“Reeve, you know I’ve always found you incredibly attractive.”

“Oh yeah?”

She bit the bullet. She wasn’t one to dance around propositions or offers. “That’s why I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a week.”

He laughed, sounding shocked. “Why?”

“I have an opportunity to land a job I want badly, and it seems the producers were under the mistaken impression that I recently got engaged. Because, you know, Sutton McKenna…” she said, and made a rolling gesture with her hand. Reeve surely knew the other Sutton. She was one of the few theater actors with enough star wattage to open a Broadway show on her own.

He nodded, and snapped a finger. “Ah, Sutton McKenna. She was in ‘Oklahoma’ last year, and she recently got hitched to her manager I heard.”

“Right. Exactly. And that’s the thing. The producers fancy themselves as being a bit of a family-centric company, so when they congratulated me on my ‘engagement’ and seemed so delighted with it too, well, I decided I should just go along with it.”

Reeve smiled and shook his head in an admiring sort of way. “Clever.”

“I’ll be clever if I can pull it off. And that’s why I called you. I want you to take on the role of my fiancé for a week.”

“So this is the acting job you called me in for?”

“I’ll pay you.”

“What’s the job you’re trying to get?”

“It’s for the film Escorted Lives,” she said. Then she watched and waited as Reeve’s delicious brown eyes lit up. His lips curved into a grin. His face said everything. Every actor wanted it on this movie.

♦ ♦ ♦

Escorted Lives was one of the bestselling books in the last few years. It started as a self-published novel and shot up the charts with its red-hot story of a woman who runs an escort service, but also has her own particular sexual peccadilloes. After one too many cheating episodes by her husband, she turns to voyeurism for her kicks and gets off watching her stable of hot young men handle the ladies they’re paired with. It had been jokingly referred to as the novel the world beat off to. Every actor wanted a role in the flick; it was bound to be huge, no pun intended.

Funny that just last night, he’d told Jill he had no interest in being an escort for Upper East Side ladies. And here he was being offered something of a man-for-hire gig.

“I’m prepared to pay you $5000,” Sutton said, and the thought of the money made his heart beat faster. But then he flashed back to his parents, to his dad who’d been a cop his whole life. To his mom, who taught high school English. His parents had a hard enough time accepting that he wanted to be an actor and make a go of it in New York City. But to take money for a fake boyfriend job? Fine, Sutton wasn’t asking him to put out, and even if she had, he honestly wouldn’t have minded. But there was something he wanted more.

“I want something besides money. I want an audition for the producers and for the director. I want a chance to get the lead role.”

He watched as she took a deep breath and considered his request. It was unconventional to bypass the casting director, but then, this deal was unconventional. Besides, it wasn’t every day that he landed an opportunity like this. He’d be paid in the currency he coveted most—the chance for a role in a feature film. Reeve would have liked the money, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. Besides, he planned to do everything differently from the Joss Whedon audition. He’d be natural and he’d be authentic when he tried out for Escorted Lives.

She nodded. “Reeve, I’ll get you an audition for them,” she said and flashed a smile, then winked. “How strange would it be if my fiancé—such a fine specimen at that—didn’t get an audition, right? But if for some reason I don’t nab the job, I will insist on paying you.”

“Fine. But you will get the job. And I will nail the audition, I promise. I won’t disappoint you. Not as an actor, and not as your fake fiancé,” he said confidently. “So we don’t really need to worry about money. We’re both going to get something we want out of this. I will be your perfect pretend boyfriend.”

She smiled. “I knew you were the right man for the job. We have dinner at their penthouse Friday night.”

Reeve didn’t mind pretending to be seeing Sutton. He’d be lying if he’d said he didn’t want to unbutton a few more buttons on her shirt, and get a glimpse of those round, full breasts. He could see a bit of cleavage exposed and it made him harder. Add in that hand on his thigh, and he was going to have to picture the entire Knicks basketball team before he could stand up. But that was all there was to this—she was hot, and that made this acting job a hell of a lot more fun.

She held out a hand for shaking. But before he could respond, she said, “That’s quite daft of me. If we’re going to pretend to be involved, we wouldn’t just shake hands. I’d give you a long, lingering embrace.”

She reached for him and began to wrap her arms around him in their first official act of pretend touching.

“Excuse me, Ms. Brenner,” a voice said, booming through the speaker phone on Sutton’s desk. There’s a Janelle Pinkerton here to see you.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Sutton snapped back and her eyes went wide. “Bloody hell,” she muttered and pressed a hand against her suddenly racing heart. Wasn’t Janelle supposed to messenger the tickets over? Sutton felt as if Janelle were checking up on her, like a school marm inspecting her cursive handwriting. Then she took a breath, reminding herself that she was one step ahead of Janelle. Her pretend boyfriend—her meal ticket, so to speak—was right here next to her.

Sutton brushed a hand against her skirt and rose, walking over to the phone. “Go ahead and send her in please.” Then to Reeve, “She’s on the producing team. So, time to improvise.”

Reeve gave her a thumbs up. Moments later, Janelle walked into the office, a thin-lipped smile on her face.

“Hello, Ms. Brenner.”

“So good to see you again, Mrs. Pinkerton.”

Janelle cast a glance at Reeve on the couch, then raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Actually, the timing is perfect. This is my fiancé,” Sutton began, but then the awkward word seemed to stick in her throat. Janelle caught on, because she narrowed her eyes in a way that made Sutton nervous. Reeve stood up, took Janelle’s hand and planted a kiss near her wrist.

“Such a pleasure to meet you,” Reeve said to Janelle.

“And you as well. I had no idea I’d be lucky and meet you so early.”

“I can’t wait for Friday night,” Reeve said. “Can I bring anything? I’m not a very good cook, but I will tell you this—I can bake the best the chocolate chip cookies in the world.” Then he flashed a smile at Janelle, and Sutton marveled at the ease with which he slid right into his role as fictional fiancé.

“Oh, I do love a good chocolate chip cookie,” Janelle said, and Sutton was sure it was the first time she’d seen the woman smile. Then Janelle dipped her hand into her purse and proffered two tickets. “For the play tomorrow.”