What am I doing?
Jenn snuggled more deeply under the burgundy spread on Cole’s guest bed. How was she supposed to spend six months pretending to be his loving wife when he was about as far from her idea of a husband as a man could get? Why had she agreed to any of this? And why had she spent the last ten minutes reliving every moment of their make-out session last night in Bryant Park?
Groaning, she sat up and pulled on her worn UCLA sweatshirt for modesty before leaving her room. Her gaze fell on the window and the sunny tree-lined street outside. Cole lived in the West Village, a neighborhood she didn’t know well as the homes here were well out of her—and her friends’—price range.
Unless she had to be at work super early, Jenn started pretty much every morning by walking down to the Cup and Cupboard, the coffee shop a few blocks from her apartment. But she was a wanderer at heart, and the prospect of exploring Cole’s neighborhood to find a new, albeit temporary, coffee shop wasn’t unappealing. Actually, she welcomed it. Hopefully, he wasn’t even up yet, and she could head out alone to do a little exploring in her search for caffeine.
Her gaze settled on two men lurking on the other side of the street. She knew them all too well as she’d often seen them camped outside Kate’s building on Central Park West. They were paparazzi, and for the first time in her life, they were here to get a glimpse of her. Colton Nix’s new bride. Her stomach dropped. No matter how heavy the paparazzi presence around Kate, Jenn had always been able to slip through unnoticed.
This was her new reality, though, for however long the fascination over her marriage lasted. She would just have to roll with it, whether that meant sneaking out the back or letting them get a shot of her heading out on her morning coffee mission.
Resigned, she went across the hall to the bathroom to freshen up and then headed for the kitchen. To her enormous surprise, she found Cole sitting in the living room, sipping from an insulated cup as a sports newscast played on the big screen TV. He wore a slightly rumpled Knicks T-shirt and athletic shorts, his hair disheveled as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
He glanced in her direction and flashed a bright smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” She felt off-balance here in his house, and it wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. Not at all.
“Feel free to toss it if it’s not what you wanted, but I ordered you a latte and poppy seed bagel.” He gestured toward another insulated cup and a bakery bag on the coffee table. “It’s what you had yesterday when you came over.”
She gawked at him, dumbstruck at this unexpectedly thoughtful—and observant—gesture. “I…well…thank you.”
“Welcome.” He gave her an amused smile, his eyes flicking to hers before returning to his sports show.
She sat in the oversized chair beside the couch and picked up her latte, inhaling its intoxicating scent. So much for her morning coffee expedition, but this wasn’t a bad turn of events either. She sipped. Yum. Maybe even better than the lattes from Cup and Cupboard. “I see a few familiar faces camped outside.”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “I guess you know them almost as well as I do, don’t you?”
“George Marks and Lamar Otis. They’re not bad guys, although George can be kind of a perv sometimes.”
Cole laughed. “I haven’t experienced it, but I don’t doubt it. It’s…well, it’s new for me, being with someone who knows the industry as well as you do.”
“I know it, but this is the first time I’ve had the lens pointed in my direction.” She took another fortifying sip of her latte and reached for her bagel.
“Not much fun, is it?” he asked, his eyes on the TV.
“I never thought it would be. You and Kate love it, or love to hate it anyway, but I’ve never wanted my face in a magazine.”
“But you do want your songs on the radio,” he commented.
She bit into her bagel, unnerved by how well he understood her when he shouldn’t know her at all. “Sung by someone else.”
“Like me?” He turned his piercing gaze in her direction, and she choked.
But yeah, okay, since meeting him last week in the Bahamas, she’d imagined his raspy voice singing something she’d written. Maybe she’d even toyed with the idea of writing a song especially with him in mind. “Not you, necessarily.”
“Do you listen to my music?” The question was casual, but she sensed an underlying current between them. She was intensely aware that they were sitting in his living room together first thing in the morning, drinking coffee in their pajamas. Of the fact that Cole was her husband.
“I have your songs in my library, yes, along with thousands of others.” She was being purposely vague, and she knew it.
He gave her an amused look. “Way to stroke my ego.”
“I don’t think it’s your ego that needs stroking.” That sure as hell got his attention, and honestly, it was all she could do not to slap her hand over her mouth in horror. Talk about a complete disconnect between her brain and her mouth! Cole’s whole body tensed, and his gaze lasered onto her with an intensity that made her sizzle from the inside out.
After a moment, though, he leaned back on the couch and gave her a lazy smile. “Nope. All good there, although I must admit it was a little weird to jerk off while my wife slept downstairs.”
Now it was her turn to tense. The mental image of Cole masturbating upstairs while she slept—and did he think of me while he was at it?—had a very strange effect on her. She ought to have been offended at the rather crass way he’d just shared that information, but instead, she was turned on…so turned on that she had to cross her legs against the ache throbbing between them. “TMI, Cole.”
He shrugged. “You brought it up.”
She ducked her head in embarrassment. “So, um, what are you up to today?”
“Don’t know yet, although I do need to get a workout in. Maybe you and I ought to spend some time getting to know each other, don’t you think?”
“I do, actually.” She stuffed the last bite of her bagel into her mouth. They’d been asked a lot of awkward and personal questions last night while they hung out with her friends. If they were going to play the part of newlyweds convincingly, they needed to know a lot more about each other. “Kate’s in the Bahamas for a few more days, so I’m pretty much free until she gets back.”
“What do you say we spend the day together, then?” he suggested. “Let’s get out of the city and go somewhere we can just hang out.”
“I like the sound of that. Any suggestions?”
“Fire Island, maybe?”
“We’d have to take a boat to get there, though.” And honestly, she’d had enough of boats and islands for a while after Luca Cay. “What about Cornwall?”
“Kind of stuffy, but it could be fun.”
“We could see the sights, rent a kayak, and there are loads of good places to eat.”
He nodded. “Sold. Let’s do it.”
Two hours later—after a workout and showers—they were in his car and on the way to Cornwall. Cole drove about how she expected—hard and fast—and even if he’d grumbled about her asking him to keep the top on his Tesla convertible, he was still grinning as they whizzed down the highway. It was a gorgeous April day, bright and sunny, and he talked nonstop during the drive. The truth was, he wasn’t half-bad company, and she wasn’t even dreading having to spend the whole day with him.
Cole dug his paddles into the Hudson River, and the kayak surged forward. In front of him, Jenn sat perched on a little cushion near the bow, wearing a blue knit dress and matching sandals. Her red hair shone in the sunlight reflected off the water, bringing out rich golden highlights that mesmerized him. Snippets of lyrics drifted through his head, and he dropped the oars long enough to slide his phone out of his back pocket and tap them in.
Like fire in my arms, flames curling around her face and eating at my heart
“Careful you don’t drop it,” she said, watching him from behind oversized sunglasses.
He slid the phone back into his pocket. “Not a chance.”
“Lyrics?” she asked.
He nodded. “Do you do that too?”
“No,” she answered, her expression thoughtful. “Kate does, though. She carries a little notebook around with her everywhere she goes. I usually designate time for songwriting, and I sit at my keyboard and work through the lyrics and melody at the same time.”
“You play the piano?” he asked. Guitar was his muse, and he could tap out a decent beat on the drums. Never tried the piano, though, although its music had always interested him. He pictured Jenn seated at a baby grand, her fingers dancing over the keys as she played something she’d written. His dick grew heavy inside his jeans.
She was nodding in answer to his question. “My parents signed me up for lessons when I was seven. I hated it at first, but it kind of grew on me over the years. At least I enjoy playing while I’m composing.”
“I’d love to hear you play.”
She cringed. “No, you wouldn’t. I’m barely passable at it.”
“Still want to hear you play. Good call coming here today.” It felt good to be outside, gliding along the water with no one around to bother them.
“I only moved to New York full-time about a year ago, so I’ve been working my way through a list of places to visit, and this has been one of my favorites so far. I love the city, but I have to get out sometimes too.”
“I fuckin’ hear that.” He guided them along the river as the tree-laden shoreline of Storm King State Park slid by. He’d been out of sorts this past year, hiding from the headlines and possibly from his life too. The truth was, he’d lost some of the satisfaction from what he did lately. Whether he was in the studio writing songs or up onstage with women screaming and flashing their tits at him, none of it made him buzz the way it once had, like he was high on the best fucking drug in the world.
“You’ve met my friends,” Jenn said, tilting her face toward the sun. “Tell me about yours. Who do you hang out with? Your phone’s been awfully quiet since news of our wedding broke. Why is that?”
“Because I’ve been letting it ring straight through to voice mail,” he admitted. “I talked to both of my parents yesterday. No one else needs their nose in my business.”
“Friends?” she asked again.
“I have about a thousand people who’d tell you I’m their friend, but no one I feel like I need to share our news with. They’ve already read the papers.”
“Interesting.” She reached down to trail her fingers through the water. Ripples spread in ever-widening rings across its surface, disturbing the reflection of the sky above so that the clouds seemed to stretch and twist in a sort of weird, rhythmic dance. “What did your parents say?”
“My mom thinks it’s great and can’t wait to meet you. My dad didn’t really care one way or the other. What about yours?”
“They’re horrified.” A smile flitted across her lips. “They’re super Catholic, so it’s all kinds of sacrilegious the way we got hitched. They want us to have a proper marriage in the church as soon as possible.”
One of the oars lurched beneath his hand, almost knocking him out of the kayak. “And what did you tell them?”
“I waffled on it. I can put them off for a few months, and by then, I can start dropping hints that things aren’t going so well between us.”
The thought of standing up in front of a whole church full of people, of Jenn walking toward him down the aisle in a proper white dress… It made his skin feel hot and prickly, and the thought of her laying the foundation for their divorce didn’t make him feel any better. Maybe he should have given this marriage thing more thought before suggesting it. For him, it was all about public appearance. For Jenn, family and religion and all kinds of expectations came into play. It didn’t sit well in his gut.
“They want us to come visit,” she said. “I won’t be able to get us out of that one, Cole. We’re going to have to visit, and soon.”
“How soon?” he asked.
“The sooner the better, really. What’s your schedule like? Once Kate gets back in town next week, things will get crazy for me.”
“Let’s go this weekend, then,” he said with a decisive nod. “Next week starts getting busy for me too. In fact, Kate and I are performing together on Good Morning America next Friday.”
“I know,” Jenn said with another small smile. “Okay, this weekend it is. I’ll make our travel arrangements.”
“Like hell you will. You’re not my assistant, Jenn. You’re my wife. Jorja will handle the arrangements.”
She shrugged. “Right. That’s fine.”
They paddled up and down the Hudson until his arms were burning, then had an early dinner at a local brewery. They made it back to his town house just past nine. The day had been pretty damn great as far as he was concerned, but as soon as they walked back into his house, he felt the distance and tension descend between them.
Jenn kept the kitchen island between them as he walked to the fridge for a beer. He handed one to her, which she accepted with a smile, her eyes still guarded. Last night this time, they’d been cuddled together on a blanket in Bryant Park, making out like crazy. How could he regain that level of comfort and intimacy between them? “Want to make some music?”
She shook her head. “But I’d love to hear you play something.”
“You got it.” He motioned for her to follow him downstairs to the studio. The house was dark and quiet around them except for the sound of their feet on the stairs.
Jenn sucked in a breath as she followed him into the room. “Wow.”
He’d converted the basement of his town house into a studio almost as soon as he’d moved in. The walls had been outfitted in soundproof paneling, covered in a deep brown fabric, with a black leather couch to the left and a couple of matching chairs on the right. The back wall was lined with guitars, and a microphone stood in the center of the room. “You like?”
“I love it. You record here?” She stepped forward, trailing her fingers over the side of the couch.
“I write here. I can make rough demos on this equipment, but I go into a professional studio when it’s time to record an album. This is more like my playground. I had it soundproofed so that the neighbors wouldn’t complain when I was down here on my guitar at all hours of the night.”
“Smart thinking,” she said with a smile, walking toward the back of the room. “May I?” She gestured toward the guitars.
“Sure thing, babe. You know how to play?”
“No clue.” She lifted his Fender 22 and swung it into her arms, strumming her fingers lightly over the strings. When she lifted her head, she was smiling. “Maybe I should have you teach me a few things while I’m staying here.”
And maybe music could bridge this gap between them. “I would fuckin’ love that.”
Jenn sat cross-legged on the floor, beer cradled between her hands, watching as Cole lifted the guitar over his head. Seeing him here in his home studio, holding the guitar and about to sing for her—and just for her—felt awfully damn intimate. He wore a snug black T-shirt and worn jeans, his biceps flexing nicely as he settled the guitar into place against him. His brown hair was wild and windswept from their day out in Cornwall, his scruff bordering on a beard. And he looked so sexy, she could hardly breathe.
“This is something I’ve been working on this week,” he said as his fingers began to strum a slow, seductive rhythm. The notes were deep and hypnotic, and here in the small, enclosed room, she felt the vibrations roll over her skin like waves in the ocean on the day they met, warm and rhythmic.
“She lies next to me in the morning,” he sang, his voice deep and just a little bit gritty.
She inhaled sharply as a ping of lust burned straight through her core. His voice seemed to echo deep inside her. She’d never felt anything like this before, and she’d seen just about every modern-day musician live. It was just Cole.
All Cole.
“I keep her close, breathe her scent, love her so, so deep.” His hands danced up and down the length of the guitar, and she watched, mesmerized. “And now she’s gone…oh…gone…gone girl…the girl is gone.”
The tune started slow and seductive, picking up the tempo through the chorus as his love turned to heartbreak, and she was absolutely lost, caught up in the music, the lyrics, and Cole’s throaty voice. When he’d finished, she blinked as though coming out of a trance. “That was…it was amazing.”
“It’s still rough, but I think it has potential,” he said.
“Potential?” She stood and walked to him, out of breath as if she’d been the one singing. “That’s a number one hit on the charts.”
“Been a while since I had one of those.” His gaze locked on to hers, and everything inside her heated up and seemed to quicken. Her breaths became gasps, her heart galloping along like an out-of-control horse while her blood seared through her veins.
“Thanks for playing it for me.” She took another step, so close she reached out and rested her hands on the guitar still slung across his chest.
“My pleasure.”
She leaned in, and her eyes slid shut as her lips brushed his. “Cole,” she murmured.
“Yeah?” His voice was like sandpaper, rubbing over every aroused cell in her body.
“This is so much more complicated now that I’m your wife.”
“Makes it all the more simple, the way I see it.” His lips moved against hers, and they were kissing, gasping as they grappled for each other over the guitar.
“When’s the last time you had a relationship that lasted six months?” she asked, her lips hovering over his.
“High school maybe? I’m not sure. Why?” His hands had snaked their way around to grip her ass, drawing her up against him, but the stupid guitar kept her hips from bumping into his.
“Because if we have sex right now, you can’t walk away in the morning. You have to live with me for six months, and I think that might be easier as roommates than lovers.”
His hands stilled. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze, his eyes dark and stormy. “Oh. That actually makes a shitty kind of sense.”
She nodded, even as disappointment rushed through her because she was so turned on, she could hardly think, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Cole could rock her world. But sex had the potential to turn their budding relationship sour awfully fast, because they didn’t have any of the luxuries that most new couples had. They couldn’t take a step back or slow down if things weren’t working out.
They were already married.
“Jenn.” He slid the guitar over his shoulders and set it gently on the floor before yanking her flush against his body. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her belly. “If we make it to six months, promise me we’ll have sex before you leave.”
“I never promise a man sex,” she told him, even as her body burned for the chance. “But if we still want each other this badly when the clock runs out on our marriage, I think it would be a shame not to.”
“A damn shame.” He rocked his hips into hers, and she almost didn’t recognize the needy sound that escaped her lips. “In the meantime, maybe we could be friends who fool around a little bit?”
“I’d say we already are. Good night, Cole.” She smiled at him as she backed out of his arms. Gathering every ounce of her willpower, she left him standing there and went to bed, alone.