Oh God," Merina uttered.
"What?" He was on alert, scoping out the club for more reporters or photographers.
"You dated her too."
"What?" Was she psychic or had his thoughts shown so clearly on his face? Either possibility presented problems. He worked hard to keep his feelings buried. It helped with the media and business to be poker-faced. Only his father and brothers knew him well enough to call bullshit. "Why would you say that?"
She shook her head and didn't reward him with an answer.
"How am I going to keep up with your long, long, long list of ladies?" She pressed her fingertips between her breasts and his eyes dipped to her cleavage. "If I were the one sleeping with half the men in the city, I would be painted as the slutty girl and they'd say you were slumming."
"Merina." He shook his head. There was a double standard, but he had to call her on that untruth. "No one in their right mind would ever accuse you of being slutty." She was too bright, too poised. Nothing like the one-night-only women he'd been seeing since Gwyneth had incinerated what they had together.
"Wanna bet?" She snagged his tie and tugged, not hard, just enough to see if he'd come the rest of the way. He did, too intrigued not to.
"Sure. I have a few bucks."
"I can't shake your hand because we'd look too businessy, so I had to improvise and go with a tie-tug."
"Good thinking."
She grinned in response before her eyes slipped to his mouth. All he could think of was taking her lips captive again.
"Five dollars says I'm painted as one of your ninnies by night's end," she said.
"You're on."
"You're going down, Crane," and then she answered his fantasy by crushing her lips against his and smothering the life out of his brain.
* * *
REESE CRANE, TAMED?
Merina had never been so glad to lose five dollars. The headline on the blog Monday morning didn't paint her as a hussy, but instead painted Reese as losing a manly peg or two to the siren who wooed him away from all other women. Two dates had been enough for the media to jump to conclusions.
Reese had sent her the headline this morning in a text message reading, Pay up.
She wondered how he liked being called "tame" and guessed he didn't, which put a bigger smile on her face.
"Well, you're smiley today," her mother announced as she entered the kitchen via the curved staircase. "And up early."
Merina closed her laptop, not caring to share with her mother how much publicity her "dates" with Reese Crane were garnering.
I noticed you were home early from your date last Friday." Jolie poured herself a cup of coffee. "Warmer?"
"I'm good." She sipped her half-full cup and debated what to tell her mom about the date, but she didn't have long to think it through when Jolie sat down across from her with her own mug.
After they left Posh, she and Reese went to dinner at a restaurant Merina couldn't remember the name of. Some fancy place with soft lighting and artful blocks of wood acting as tables. Dinner was incredible, and the conversation flowed rather than being forced. It seemed their first for-public kiss had set them both at ease. The evening ended by ten, and he walked her to her door, dropping a kiss on her lips that made her want more.
She wasn't sure what to do with that, so she decided to count it in the plus column for their ruse. It was unlikely but possible there was a paparazzo in the bushes. Better safe than sorry.
She hadn't seen him since and was now mentally readying herself for seeing him tonight. She hoped the meeting-like atmosphere would help quell some of her nerves.
Penelope had requested getting together at Reese's house. At the idea of seeing Reese's private lair, Merina felt fifty shades of nervous. Who knew what lurked behind his gargantuan mostly-unused Lake Shore Drive home? When she received the address via e-mail from Bobbie, Merina Googled it. The aerial view alone was drool-worthy. There was a pool out back. Fountains out front. Three manicured acres surrounded the building. The fifteen-thousand-square-foot house was sold to Reese nine years ago. She'd tried digging up a few pictures of the interior but only found one of the foyer and double staircase sweeping up each side and a small half bath in who knew what part of the house.
"Your father told me not to ask at the risk of being nosy, but…I have to," Jolie said.
Slowly, Merina lowered her mug.
"Why in heaven's name are you dating the man who only a few days ago you called a 'corporate tyrant'? I mean, don't get me wrong, I have eyes and I can see he's terribly attractive." Her mother's lips pursed. "The whole family is. Those three boys got the best of their mother and Big Crane."
She wasn't wrong. Merina had met Tag once before. He was the youngest brother and despite not having an affinity for long hair, she'd been completely taken by his charm and easy smile. Fun-loving Tag was more her style, but she'd received a proposal from the brother who was dark and closed off and irritating.
Until Reese was kissing her. Then he was none of those things. He was delicious and warm and tasted like spice cake. Or maybe that was the scotch.
"We just…hit it off," Merina said, lifting her mug so she wouldn't have to say more.
"Are you seeing more of him?" Her mother's eyebrows crawled up her forehead.
At the mention of "more," she again imagined loosening his tie. Why she was so focused on that one article of clothing, she had no idea. Maybe because she'd never seen him without one.
Merina cleared her throat. "I'm seeing him tonight, actually."
"Tonight." Her mother sighed. "Mer, you do know what you're doing, don't you?"
"Of course." She was marrying a billionaire to gain possession of her family's hotel.
"I worry, sweetheart." Her mother's brow creased further. "Since Corbin—"
"Mom." Merina shook her head. She didn't want to talk about Corbin. Like, ever. It was an embarrassing smudge on an otherwise perfect record. A time when she was blinded by love, or what she thought was love, when the writing was so clearly written on the wall even a blind man could have spotted it.