Port Jefferson and had been since his youth. With an eatery in back and a bustling bar in front, it catered to young and old. With the sun setting on Saturday night, everyone would be meeting at the Waterfront for a quick dinner and a few drinks, before pub-crawling their way to a Sunday hangover—a Long Island tradition.
Headlights bounced off the interior of Travis’s truck. Georgie’s car.
Travis opened the driver’s-side door and climbed out, turning to lean up against it. By Georgie’s third attempt to back into a parking space, Travis was shaking his head.
He was prepared to question why she didn’t simply pull in headfirst, but the words died on Travis’s lips when Georgie came into view. No skirt this time, but he felt that low stirring in his belly regardless. Maybe even stronger this time around. She’d traded her clown suit for a loose summer dress and sandals that crisscrossed up her legs and tied below the knee. Hair that she’d hidden beneath an orange wig earlier was in a braid that sat on one shoulder. As she drew closer, he noticed a light sheen on her lips that made him think of bites taken from fresh fruit.
Every inch the sweet girl next door . . . until he let himself notice her tits. Kill me now. They’d been pushed up and separated and put on display in the V of her dress. Why couldn’t he look at her body and remain objective? He’d never had this problem before. Much of his life had been spent crossing paths with gorgeous women, but this one made him feel like his clothes fit wrong.
A young guy walking past her in the parking lot did a double take. After tugging an earphone out of his ear, he said hello. As in hel-lo.
“Hi,” she said back, slowing to a stop and looking at the man with an oblivious expression. “Did you need something?”
Clearly shocked that his skeevy hello had earned him a positive response, the guy backed up like a dog who’d spotted a stray treat. “Now that you mention it—”
“No, he doesn’t need anything. Christ.” Travis inserted himself between Georgie and the idiot, pulling her up against his side. His irritation plummeted when he saw Georgie was genuinely confused. “He thinks you are attractive, Georgie. He just did a shit job of letting you know it.”
“Ohhh.” Travis watched Georgie clock the reporter stationed a few spots down. “And . . .” She gave him a conspiratorial nudge. “What would be the right way?”
They weren’t even inside the restaurant yet and the danger line was blurring. It was enough to walk into the establishment holding Georgie’s hand. Buy her drinks. Put an arm around her shoulders. People inside would get the hint and so would anyone who saw the resulting pictures. He didn’t need to lean in as he was doing now, his palm sliding down her bare arm to twine their fingers together. He didn’t need to draw those fingers to his mouth and kiss them. Twice. Slow. “You look fucking beautiful.”
“You’re right,” she breathed, staring at the knuckles he was still holding. “That is definitely the right way.”
With the taste of her on his lips, taunting him for his lack of control, Travis turned and dragged her toward the restaurant. “Now you know.”
“Wait.” She still sounded breathless. “Shouldn’t we, like . . . reconnoiter?”
He stopped and faced her. “What?”
“Reconnoiter. You know . . .” She spoke in a hush out of the side of her mouth. “Perform recon. See who’s in there. Form a game plan.”
“I have a game plan.”
She widened her eyes at him. “Care to share? I’m one-half of this team.”
A flash went off over Georgie’s shoulder. “We look like we’re having an argument.”
“Trouble in paradise. Today on TMZ.” She crossed her eyes at Travis and he found himself fighting a smile. “We will be having an argument if you don’t clue me in. I’ve never had a real boyfriend, let alone a fake one.”
“You didn’t need to remind me.”
“Harsh.”
Travis lost his smile. “I didn’t mean it to sound harsh, Georgie. Only that I’m aware how much more experience I have than you.”
She gave a dainty tug of her earlobe. “And you’ve had an official girlfriend?”
Knowing he’d been bested, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Point taken. I still know how to convince whoever is watching that you’re mine.”
Did he imagine her shiver? “How?”
His body’s response to that single word was chemical. This woman whose body called to