From Fake to Forever

She texted him back and hightailed it to the bathroom to splash on some perfume and freshen her makeup because Chandler-Harris women did not allow anyone to see their cracks.

The knock startled her despite her expecting it. That was fast.

She opened the door and the dark expression on Jason’s face swept out to engulf her and not in a good way. The back of her neck crawled. “What’s wrong?”

“Just let me in. I’m not having this conversation with you while lounging in the hall.”

Silently, she pushed the door wide, forcing him to slide past her to enter the room. It was a deliberate ploy, but his solid body brushed hers deliciously and she wasn’t sorry she’d done it.

Jason filled the hotel room and she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. “I take it you aren’t planning to ask me to dinner. Which would be totally fine, by the way. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“You’ve ruined everything,” he said shortly. “Everything. I’ve worked so blasted hard for two years, and in one afternoon, it’s gone. Poof.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here to fix the problem.”

“I told my fiancée the cute story of a torrid weekend in Vegas and how, get this, it’s so funny, but it turns out I’m still married. She was not amused. In fact, she was so unamused, our engagement is over.”

“Oh, Jason! I’m so sorry.” Meredith’s hand flew to her mouth involuntarily. How terrible. He had to be beside himself. No wonder his mood seemed so black. “I never imagined—”

“So here’s how this is going to go. You cost me a very important contact in the textile industry. You owe me. And you are going to pay, starting right now.”

She took a step backward as his ire rolled over her. “Uh, pay how?”

This was not the man she remembered from Vegas. He looked the same, had the same rocking body and a voice that should be required by law to talk dirty to her twenty-four seven. But this Jason Lynhurst was harder, more brittle. She didn’t like it.

“In as many unpleasant ways as I can devise,” he muttered and swept her with a look. “But not that way. This is strictly business, sweetheart. I need you to do something for me.”

Since he’d just lost his fiancée, and likely was nursing a broken heart, she’d let the condescension slide. “I’m truly sorry that your fiancée is upset. I’m sure you can smooth things over. Do that thing with your mouth, you kno—”

“Meiling is not upset.”

Fire flared from his gaze, giving her a great big clue who the upset party was in this equation. Since he’d interrupted her again, she crossed her arms and perched on the desk so he could burn off that mad.

“If she’s not upset, what is she?”

Jason started pacing, rearranging his spiky hair with absent fingers as he stomped around in her small room, shedding his suit jacket as he went.

“She’s unwilling to associate with someone who would marry a stranger in a crass Vegas wedding and then fail to follow up to ensure the marriage was dissolved. Her exact words.” He tossed his jacket on the bed with a great deal more force than necessary. “I’ve embarrassed her in front of her family, and in her world, that’s unforgivable. So there’s no smoothing it over.”

The light dawned. “You weren’t in love with her.”

Why that made her so happy, she couldn’t pinpoint. But the realization moved through her with a wicked thrill nonetheless.

Jason shot her an annoyed glare. “Of course not. It was a business arrangement, and now I’ve lost the in I had into the Asian textile market. Lyn needed Meiling’s connections. Since this is all your fault, you owe me.”

Okay, this was not what she’d anticipated. Where was the sensitive, passionate man she’d spent many luscious hours with once upon a time? He’d been replaced with a coldhearted suit who possessed not a shred of romance in his soul.

“My fault?” She tightened her crossed arms before she used one to right-hook him to the ground. “Seems like your fiancée—sorry, ex-fiancée—called it exactly right. You didn’t follow up, either. Actually, you should be thanking me that I came to you with the truth before you got married. You’d be guilty of bigamy. Imagine explaining that to your Meiling.”

“I depended on you to destroy the papers.” He made a noise of disgust. “I shouldn’t have, obviously.”

That stung. Mostly because the implication—that she couldn’t be counted on and wasn’t smart enough to handle a simple task—was actually true in this case. “You’re not endearing me to your cause, honey. Doesn’t seem like I owe you anything but an apology. Which I’ve already given.”

“You want to play hardball?” He advanced on her, the look in his eyes enigmatic and edgy. “Fine. I can indulge you. I lost an advantage and you’re going to help me regain it. Granted, you don’t have Meiling’s connections, but I’m sure you’ve got many tricks up your sleeve. Until I get back on track, what’s my hurry to sign the divorce papers?”

He stopped not a foot from her as his meaning sank in. He wasn’t going to give her the divorce unless she did whatever it was that he wanted. Which still hadn’t been clearly established.

Poking a finger in the center of his chest, she held her ground. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Gazes deadlocked, they stared at each other. No way would she blink first. Or move her index finger from his hard torso.

God in Heaven, that beautiful face of his. She soaked it in and something sharp tore right through her abdomen. Many a morning over the past two years, she’d woken in a cold sweat with no idea what she’d dreamed, but certain Jason Lynhurst had played a starring role in it. That face lingered in her mind’s eye far past the time when she should have forgotten it.

And here he was. Her fingers relaxed and flattened against his chest, easily, as if her palm belonged there. He glanced down and back up, meeting her gaze again with lowered lids. As if the thrumming tension had wound through him with equal fervor.

“If you’ve got nothing to lose, then I’d be more than happy to try you,” she murmured.

She bunched his shirt in her fist and reeled him in. He hesitated for an eternity and then their lips met. The sweet taste of Jason swept through her and it was as if they’d never been apart. She nearly wept as Jason’s arms came around her, drawing her closer.

This was the Jason of Vegas, the one she’d worked so hard to forget and couldn’t.

Oh, yes. Her heart burst into motion, pumping euphoria through her veins as if it hadn’t beaten in two long years. Hungrily, he sucked her deeper into the kiss and sparks danced behind her eyelids.

She pulled back, chest heaving from the effort of not diving into him with abandon. As they stared at each other, locked in a long moment, a glimpse of the man he’d been flitted through his features.

Something pulled at her heart. Oh, that was not good. That was why she’d never forgotten him—he’d taken a piece of her she’d never meant to give.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can we start over?” she asked, her voice more tremulous than she would have liked.

Because she’d just realized letting him go in Vegas might have been the biggest mistake of her life.

* * *

In spite of it all, a chuckle spilled from Jason’s mouth and reluctantly, he let his arms drop from the siren he’d somehow wound up kissing. He’d come here to wring her neck, but instead, she’d expertly defused his mood.

But that didn’t mean they’d be falling right back into a crazy-town affair, not when so much was at stake. Not when he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. “Depends on what the definition of starting over is.”

Meredith pursed her kiss-stung lips, and he decided it was better to put a little more distance between them. She was even more dangerous than he’d realized and he refused to follow in his father’s footsteps. Paul had left Bettina for a younger, sexier wife, with no regard to the consequences to his company or his family. Obviously, it was in the Lynhurst blood to let passion rule, but that didn’t have to be Jason’s fate and someone had to step up where his father had failed.

Jason had a vision for putting the pieces of his life back together and no woman would sway him from realizing it. He was stronger than his father.

While he flopped into one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting area of her hotel room, she crossed to the minibar and pulled two beers from the fridge, flipped off the caps expertly and handed him one.

“I don’t want to be at odds, Jason. You’re upset. I get that. But don’t come in here slinging ultimatums and expect me to fall in line. Let’s do this differently.”

What the hell. He loosened his tie, guzzled a third of the cold dark beer and raised his eyebrows. “Which is how?”