Page 38 of That Fake Feeling

Sherrilooks like that’s the tackiest thing she could ever imagine.

Thephotographer pipes up again. “Andjust a couple of quickies with you standing in front ofConnor, please,Rose.”

Herattention snaps to him. “Infront?”There’san edge of concern in her voice.

“Youmean like one of those vegetable and fruit arrangement things?”Sherri’sstill stuck on the tomato flowers. “Thatyou can eat?”

“Hell, no,”Iprotest. “I’dnever send a woman something as tasteless as that.”Itmight all be a farcical fabrication, butIhave a reputation and standards to uphold.

“Yes, in front,” the photographer says. “Connor, put your arms around her waist and pull her back against you, please.”

Mydick shifts again at the thought of her butt pressing against it.Howthe hell amIgoing to hide this stiffy from her?

“Oh, no,”RosetellsSherri. “Itwasn’t like one of those things.Thiswas obviously done by a master.”

Sherripicks up her mug of spiked coffee and peers over it. “Amaster tomato carver?”

“Clearly,”Rosesays, stepping in front of me. “Hemade them into roses.Aftermy name,” she adds helpfully. “Sothoughtful.”

“Justback up to him, please,Rose,” the photographer says, losing patience.

Damnher for being so sharp and quick-thinking.Well, two can play at that game.

“Youshould showSherria picture.Youmust have taken a photo of this spectacular creation.”Itry not to be distracted by her bare shoulders, which are annoyingly crying out for my lips to touch them. “Orhow else would we be able to show our grandchildren the romance of the tomato flowers?”

Roseignores the photographer’s instruction and spins to face me with a look that saysI’man annoying child who needs to behave.

“Whyare you trying to ruin it?”Shewhispers through gritted teeth. “Wewill succeed at this if it kills me.OrifIhave to kill you.”

“Chop, chop, folks,” the photographer calls. “We’rerunning late.”

Rose’smouth curves into a sickly-sweet smile and she turns back toward the camera.

Iwrap my arms lightly around her sparkly waist and lean in toward her ear, her fruit-scented hair tickling my nose. “Yourclauses forbid this.Myhands aren’t supposed to wander around the front.”

“Clausesdon’t apply to photographers’ instructions.”

Sherri’svoice cuts through our whispers. “Soare you planning on a family?”

“Tight,Connor,” the photographer snaps. “Pullher tight to you.Showthe camera you can’t get enough of her.”

IfRose’sperfect ass presses against my crotch and feels this rock-hard rod, she’s liable to turn around and slap me.Imight want this to go horribly wrong, but that would be a step too far even for me.

“Oh, yes,”ItellSherri. “Iwas raised with my two brothers and two cousins, soI’vealways thought five kids is the perfect number.”

Rosebacks up asIcircle my arms further around her, easing her closer, but being careful to keep an inch between us.

“Well, it’s all been so fast,”Rosesays. “WhenIcalledCon-Conto thank him for the bouquet, he invited me to dinner, andImoved in two weeks later.It’sall been such a whirlwind we haven’t had a chance to discuss a family.”

“Restyour chin on her head,Connor,” the photographer encourages.

Ihave to pull her even closer to do that.

Oh, shit.

Thereit is.Dickon ass contact.

“Butyou said you were down with five kids,”Isay toRose, trying to sound offended, and like my cock isn’t throwing a party for itself.