Holiday Hoax (Windy City Holidates #3)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

IAN

Mia’s face smiles back at me from my phone screen as I stare at the picture she sent me of herself for what feels like the millionth time. I’ve been home for a few days but too busy with work to see her in person. Staring at her photo on the other hand, I’ve found time to do it incessantly.

I’ve memorized her face right down to the one incisor that’s just the slightest bit crooked in her smile. She also has a diamond shaped birthmark on the outside of her left calf. Did I discover that because I spent an hour zoomed in studying everything about her? You couldn’t waterboard that answer out of me.

If I was living in denial before, I’m not anymore. I have feelings for her. If I’m being honest, I probably have since the day we spent together in Italy. But she’s so much younger than me.

Coming up with a plan to fake date her was both the best idea I’ve ever had and the worst. Walking around and wanting her, knowing how good her lips feel against mine is torturous. I can’t help but wonder what other things would feel like. What they’d taste like.

Tonight is the dinner we’re hosting here. She’ll be here in minutes, for the first time since the night I kissed her and sent my heart on a suicide mission. I changed out of my suit from work and opted for a pair of gray trousers and black button down. It’s already getting hot in the penthouse from the chef and servers working in the kitchen, so I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and decided to forgo a tie.

The slide of the elevator doors sends my heart off a cliff. She crosses the threshold, and I hold my breath as my eyes drink her in. Her smile is wide and shines through her eyes as she locks eyes with me. Marta takes her coat, and then she’s closing the distance between us.

Our bodies fit perfectly together as she wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me. My hands circle her waist, clad in a deep purple dress that drapes gorgeously over her curves. She doesn’t pull away nor do I want her to.

“Does Marta think we’re dating?” she whispers into my ear.

“No. At least I’ve never told her that.” I pull her body closer to mine. “Why?”

“She said something the other day, and I wondered if you had told her.”

“What’d she say?”

“Nothing.” She steps out of my arms. “It’s so good to see you, Ian. Are you ready for tonight?”

“Absolutely. The question is, are you ready?”

She smiles, breathtakingly. “I am. Let’s do this.”

The first guests arrive, and I tuck Mia against my side as I introduce her. A few of the board members pull me aside to ask about my trip to Asia. Mia excuses herself graciously with a squeeze of my hand and wanders over to talk to the wives.

It’s normally not a problem for me to stay focused when I’m talking business, especially not with a dinner as high stakes as tonight. But every time I hear the lilt of her laughter from across the room, my eyes are drawn to her. Just like a magnet I’m drawn to her, powerless against the pull.

I watch as the chef approaches her and speaks quietly in her ear. Mia nods slowly and then replies with a smile. As he walks away she turns my way and mouths that dinner is ready.

I motion her over to my side, slipping my arm around her waist once more. “Dinner is ready, if everyone wants to take a seat at the dining table.”

I take my position at the head of the table with Mia seated to my right. Matthew, the chairman of the board, sits at the opposite end, his wife at his side. A few of the board members have been known to get into spirited debates at functions, so I’ve separated the couples that don’t mix. As long as we can get through the next two hours without conflict, I’ll consider it a success.

“So, Mia, how exactly did you two meet?” Elaine, Matthew’s wife, asks halfway through dinner.

Mia smiles and dabs at her lips with her napkin. “We’re family acquaintances. We’d occasionally run into each other over the years.”

“But it wasn’t until I was at an opening at her gallery that we began dating,” I add as I put my hand over hers. “I saw her from across the room and couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

Everyone chuckles at something Matthew says, but my eyes are locked on Mia’s as she gazes back at me. Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine, as if she’s trying to figure out if it’s just part of the act. I hope she can sense the sincerity in my words.

Hope swells in my chest when a smile splits her lips. She flips her hand over and links our fingers on the top of the table. In perhaps my boldest move yet, I lift our joined hands and press a kiss to her knuckles, my eyes never leaving hers.

“Hold on to that romance as long as you can,” Elaine says. “Soon you’ll be picking up his wet towels from the floor wondering where the man you fell in love with went.”

“I’m right here, darling, and you haven’t picked up a towel in decades.” Matthew lifts his eyebrows at her.

They spar back and forth with the ease of familiarity and genuine affection. It is something I do admire about the company my family has built. There haven’t been any scandals, no corruption, just decent people who are good at making sound business decisions. It’s one of the things that sets Jameson Industries apart from all the competition.

Mia’s knee brushes against mine under the table, making me feel like a teenager on my first date again. Now that I’ve acknowledged my very real attraction to her, I can’t ignore the fire she ignites within me. She stands to show a few of those interested the art she helped me choose for the penthouse.

I trail the group, lingering a few feet away to observe her as she describes the art. The way she speaks with such confidence in her knowledge of the art and the pieces is awe inspiring. She’s a damn good saleswoman. Pride swells in my chest as she gives her cards to a couple of the women who inquire about stopping by the gallery soon. Watching her work the room proves how good she is at her job. She doesn’t need anything from me beyond opening the door to a world of potential clients with deep pockets.

As everyone filters out following dessert, she stands at my side, schmoozing like she was born for it. I get a couple nods of approval from board members on their way out. After the chef and servers leave, I grab two wine glasses and fill them both with the remainder of the wine left on the counter.

She’s slipped her shoes off and is rinsing out a coffee pot when I approach. “Here,” I say as I hand her one of the glasses. “To a successful night.” I tap the rim of my glass to hers.

“It was good, wasn’t it?” She closes her eyes as she takes a sip. “This wine is probably the best I’ve ever tasted.”

My eyes dip to her mouth as her tongue sweeps along her lush bottom lip. She looks up and catches me staring before quickly looking away.

“We should sit down and relax while we finish off this bottle.” I gesture to the couch.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she says as she moves around the counter. She sits on one end of the couch and lifts her feet onto the cushion beside her. “Do you mind if I have my feet up? They’re killing me.”

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” I lean forward and set my glass of wine on the coffee table. “In fact, put your feet here.” I pat my lap.

“Oh, no.” She starts to put her feet down, but I grab them and set them on my thigh. “You don’t have to rub my feet again.”

“What if I want to?” I firmly run my thumb along her arch.

Her lips part on a moan as her head falls to the side. I’m not sure if she knows how sexy she is or not, but between the noise coming from her throat and the exposed curve of her neck, my dick surges to life. A mischievous glimmer shines in her eyes, a signal that something wild is about to come out of her mouth.

“Who am I to deny you your foot fetish?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No foot fetish here.”

“I don’t know.” She smirks. “You got awfully territorial over the thought of me selling feet pics on the internet. Then you buy me a dozen pairs of designer shoes. You’ve rubbed my feet twice now. Or do you do this for all your fake girlfriends?”

“Not even for my real ones.” I hit the spot on her foot that makes her eyes drift closed in pleasure.

“Why me then?” She opens an eye to look at me.

“Maybe I have a Mia fetish.”

Her lips pull back into a smile as she chuckles. “How many glasses of wine did you have tonight?”

“This,” I point to my mostly untouched glass on the table, “makes two. I’m stone cold sober.”

Her cheeks flush as she looks away. I brace myself for her to leave, to reject my interest. She probably should. But then she looks back at me, interest sparked in those warm, brown eyes of hers.

“Are you hitting on me, Ian? Flirting with your fake girlfriend?”

My heart beats loudly in my chest as I reach over and take her glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. She watches every move I make with rapt attention. When I grab her hands and pull her onto my lap, she comes willingly. Her knees settle on the outside of my thighs.

“If I said, yes, I was? Could you blame me?” My hands cup her hips, squeezing the soft curve of her body.

Her hands move onto my shoulders, gently kneading the tension in my muscles. “I guess it could help us with our chemistry.” She leans forward, her lips mere inches from mine.

“I’m not sure that we need to work on our chemistry, but it can’t hurt.” I close the distance between us until our lips are just a whisper apart. “But it’s your call, and I’ll respect it either way.”

My heart beats once. Twice. And then she leans in and fits her mouth over mine. I lock my desire in a cage, too scared to let her feel the power of it. Every single night that I’ve been away from her, I’ve jerked off imagining this specific scenario. Her soft and pliant on my lap, grinding her hot, slick center over my cock. Pre-cum seeps from my tip.

I give her control to take what she wants from me. Her fingernails rake over my scalp as her hips rock against me. She makes the cutest little grumble when her dress gets tangled with her legs. My mouth goes dry when she sits up to fix it, a flash of lace-topped stockings peeks from beneath the material as she adjusts it so she can get closer.

I grab the hem, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger in an effort to keep myself from pushing it up her thighs. “Is this okay?” I check in with her.

“Yes. More than okay.” Her tongue slides past my parted lips, gliding along my own.

She gasps when her core meets my hard on. Even with all the layers between us, I can feel her heat seeping into me. I need more, and I damn well know she does too, so I wrap my hands around her waist and pull her body forward until I’m pressed against her center.

“I need to touch you,” I whisper against her lips.

“Yes.” She nods. “Anywhere.”