He's a cynic. She's a romantic. One deal, one wedding, and one gigantic secret stand between them.
**
Harper Lane wants to believe in true love. After her parents split, she began photographing evidence of it. Couples holding hands. Valentine's Day...
"Don't be ridiculous," Lawson said mildly. "It'll never fit in our car."
Lawson put down his duffel bag, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. His white t-shirt rode up, revealing a bronzed strip of skin, and Harper quickly averted her eyes. For all Lawson's talk of hating cardio, she thought, he seemed to be in exceptional shape. It was incredibly annoying.
There was a thump.
Harper whipped around. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing: Lawson was bent over, dragging her suitcase toward the bed.
What the hell?
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
Lawson made a sound that was awfully close to a snort. "You don't really think I'm going to let you sleep on the couch, do you?"
She frowned. "I like the couch."
"Really?" Lawson tilted his head, studying it. "I find the floral pattern offensive."
Wariness filled her. "Can you be serious? Just for five seconds?"
"Look, Ohio," Lawson said, dropping her suitcase near the bed. "We have two options. Either you take the bed, or we share the bed." He straightened, crossing his arms. "Which would you prefer?"
He looked almost smug. Probably, Harper realized irritably, because Lawson already knew what she'd pick; she'd been desperate to claim the couch. Desperate not to share a bed. He thought he'd backed her into a corner.
Well, too bad.
She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
"Fine, then." Harper shrugged. "Let's share the bed."
Lawson stared.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He bore, Harper thought, with just a tinge of satisfaction, a strong resemblance to Fish.
"But I—" Lawson shook his head. "That's not what I—"
"You know," Harper mused, "I finally get why you enjoy making people squirm." She rose from the couch, then slumped back onthe bed. Just to prove her point. "There's something so entertaining about it."
"We're not sharing a bed," Lawson said hoarsely.
"Why not?"
"We're just not." Two red spots burned high in his cheeks. "End of story."
"It doesn't have to mean anything," Harper said, frowning as she sat up. "We're friends. It's not like we've ever... er..."
She trailed off. Unbidden, the memory of the garden party surfaced in her mind. Lawson's warm, heavy weight on top of her. His fingers gliding up her thigh. His mouth on her own. The air between them grew heavy, loaded with static charge. When Lawson spoke, his voice was laced with dark velvet.
"Haven't we?" he asked.
Harper shivered. "Not like that. That was different. That was— that was—"
"Go on." Lawson raised an eyebrow. "Finish the sentence."
She scowled. "You're such a dick sometimes."
"A dick that you're taking to your father's wedding," Lawson said, and then paused. "That sentence sounded much less dirty in my head."
Harper crossed her arms. "Admit it."
"What?"
"You're freaked out that we're going together."
"Are we?" Lawson leaned against the bedpost. "I don't recall you actually asking me."
"Lawson," Harper said, "I'm begging you. Just play along for one night."
She could hear the desperation in her voice, but Harper didn't care. Being single at a wedding was one thing; lying about being single to your ex-boyfriend was quite another. Should she have told Jake that she was dating someone? No.
Was Harper determined to get away with it anyway?
Yes.
Absolutely.
Even thinking of Jake's face if knew the truth — if Jake realized that she was still single, and that Harper's idealistic view of love really was utter garbage— imagining his pity and his judgement and his condescending kindness—
Harper swallowed.
No. She couldn't let him find out.
"Just for one night," Harper repeated. "Please."
"Let me get this straight," Lawson said slowly. "You want me to rock up to the wedding with you so that your ex-boyfriend — who's the sort of psychotic wanker that chases a girl through a park, by the way — thinks that you've met the love of your life."
Harper winced. She knew that she'd regret filling Lawson in on the details of what happened in Battersea. "Er. Yes."
"Fine," Lawson said, and then held up a hand when Harper beamed. "On one condition."
"What?"
"We tell the boys the truth," Lawson said.
Her smile faded. "Absolutely not."
"Ohio." Lawson's voice was a warning. "Griffin will go mental if I just show up at the wedding with you."
Harper shifted until she was kneeling on the bed. "Griff doesn't have to know we're there together. Lawson, please." She seized his hands. "I just need you to be affectionate with me in front of Jake for like, five minutes. Is that really so hard?"
Lawson stared down at their joined hands. His dark lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones, and there were purple smudges beneath his eyes, as if someone had dipped their thumb in ink and stamped it there. He wasn't sleeping well, Harper realized; how hadn't she noticed that before?
"No," Lawson said softly. "I suppose it would be easy to pretend, with you."
She blew out a breath. "Thank-you."
Slowly — carefully — Lawson raised their linked hands to her cheek. Harper's breath hitched. But Lawson only brushed a crumb from her face with his thumb, dropping his hand. He turned, face unreadable.
"Come on," he said. "We'd better get a move on. Wedding prep awaits."
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Hello lovely readers,
Happy Tuesday! I'm posting two chapters today, because why the heck not? ;)
