Forbidden Fake Fiance (Forbidden Small Town Bad Boys #1) Read online

  Forbidden Fake Fiance

  Holly Jaymes

  Copyright © 2020 by Holly Jaymes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Untitled

  1. Doomed

  2. The Ice Queen

  3. Saved

  4. Something to Build On

  5. To Lie or Not to Lie

  6. Preparing to be Posh

  7. The Charade Begins

  8. Becoming Real

  9. Giving In to Desire

  10. Head Over Heels

  11. The Jig is Up

  12. Joining a Monastery

  13. Losing Myself

  14. Aftermath

  15. No Regrets

  16. Taking a Risk

  17. Seal the Deal

  Author’s Note

  Also by Holly Jaymes

  About Holly James

  Untitled

  Forbidden Fake Fiance

  Doomed

  Allie

  Six bare-chested firemen lay supine on blue mats. Four bare-chested sheriff’s deputies lay among them. All of them had at least four-pack abs, chiseled pecs, and sculpted shoulders and arm muscles. I was dying to take a picture. If I posted it on Instagram, my yoga/Pilates studio would be packed with clients.

  “Breathe in, filling your lungs from the bottom up to your chest,” I cued them.

  In unison, their bellies then chests inflated.

  “Breathe out, keeping your exhale the same as your inhale. Slow and controlled.”

  Offering classes to first responders in Eden Lake had been a good idea, although it had taken some effort to convince them to come. Fortunately, ex-Navy SEAL and former celebrity trainer Mason McLean lived in this tiny mountain town and was also a volunteer firefighter here. With his help, my little class was growing.

  I wondered if I could ask a couple of them to let me take a picture for Instagram. While my fledgling business was showing signs of success, I couldn’t let up on marketing and promotion. Having a picture of Mason on social media would be like winning the lottery. Not only had he been a celebrity trainer, but now he had his own streaming wellness channel. He also ran a fitness empire mostly online. Plus, his brother was a famous football player. And, he was hot in that dark, quiet-broody sort of way.

  Wyatt Dalton would be helpful in my promotion too. He was a well-respected sheriff’s deputy who had his sights on running for mayor one day. He was fair compared to Mason, but still very good looking. And he was nice. He let me off with a warning when I got caught speeding just after I moved here. Later, I ran into him at Paradise Java, and he bought me a coffee. He was friendly and fun. He was definitely a million times better than his brother Josh.

  Josh Dalton was God’s gift to women, at least that’s how he pictured himself. It was hard to blame him for thinking so. Like Wyatt, he had those California good looks; blond hair, ice-blue eyes, perfectly groomed scruff, and a million-dollar smile. Why he was in Eden Lake instead of Hollywood, I didn’t know. It wasn’t just his looks that made him hot. His body was perfection. It was like he’d been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. The problem with Josh was that he knew all this about himself. It made him unattractive, at least to me. Other women, clearly didn’t care that he was full of himself.

  He wouldn’t be so hard to deal with if I only had to see him when he came to my class. But he was also my neighbor, and so I was constantly running into him. He’d be leaving to go for a run, bare-chested in running shorts. Or he’d be swimming laps in our complex’s pool. His back muscles were serious perfection.

  “On your next breath, gently turn on to your side,” I cued the next move in the cooldown.

  All the men slowly rolled as instructed. I cued them to sit up in a relaxed pose as I finished the cool-down of their yoga session.

  “Namaste,” I said, with my hands in a prayer position and bending my head.

  “Namaste,” the men repeated.

  I looked over the men, and Josh winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

  I finished the class and watched as Josh and Wyatt walked out of the studio.

  “Mason?”

  “Good class, Allie,” he said as he approached me with his mat in his bag. My studio supplied mats, but Mason had his own. As a fitness guru, I imagined there wasn't an exercise doo-dad that he didn’t own. But I also knew that he’d discovered yoga as a means to cope with the effects of being a soldier, long before I had thought of it. When I’d approached him about offering the class, he was all for it. He said that being a first responder wasn’t much different from being in the military and that they could benefit from learning techniques that reduced stress.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate all you’ve done to help me grow here.”

  He smiled. Mason was a quiet man, but his size and dark broodiness could make him seem scary. However, he was a really kind man. “Of course.”

  “I hate to ask too much, but I was hoping maybe you and a couple of the others might be willing to let me take pictures sometime for social media.” I gave him a sheepish smile. “Women like men in uniform…when they’re not wearing their uniforms.”

  He laughed. “You might ask the Daltons. They’d probably bring in a lot of the local ladies.”

  “Not you too?”

  He shrugged. “Believe it or not, when I grew up here, I was the 98-pound weakling.”

  “You’re not anymore.”

  “The packaging has changed, but inside…I’m not a ladies’ man.”

  “You could be if you wanted. But I understand.”

  The first responder class was the last one of the day, so once they all left, I cleaned up the studio, and then headed home.

  Luckily, I didn’t run into Josh as I reached my condo. He was probably out drinking and finding his next hookup.

  Once inside my apartment, I put my gym bag in my room, took a quick shower, and then made dinner. I poured a glass of wine to have with it. Once finished, I washed my dishes and poured a second glass of wine to take with me to binge-watch something on Netflix.

  I was trying to decide between a period piece and a documentary when my phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I saw it was my mother. I blew out a breath as I prepared for the call. I loved my family, but sometimes I thought I was adopted or switched at birth because I was clearly not of the same DNA as them.

  “Hello, mother,” I said in the formal way I was raised to address her.

  “Allison. I’m calling to remind you of your cousin Elizabeth’s wedding.” My mother called everyone by their given name. Most people called me Allie. My cousin preferred Liza or Elizabeth.

  I looked over at the cat yoga calendar hanging by the desk in my living room, where I’d circled Liza’s wedding date. “Yes, mother. Two weeks from now. I’ll be there.”

  “I’ve got your plus one lined up.”

  “Mother, I don’t need—”

  “Yes, you do, Allison. It doesn’t look right for a young woman to attend a formal event alone. What will people think?”

  That I’m single? It was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer.

  “It’s Maxwell Lassiter.”

  “He’s engaged to Sissy Maynard.” Good golly, what was my mother thinking?

  “Cecelia ran off with some Navy pilot. Maxwell is available. You know him, Allison. He’s a successful lawyer now.”

  “I’m not marrying
Maxwell, mother.”

  “Why do you have to be so contrary, Allison? We raised you in a good home.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “You got a good education. We even supported you on that silly major of wellness.”

  That was only because she and my dad hoped I’d eventually go pre-med. “Yes, mother.”

  “And then you ran off to live in the woods like some sort of hippie.”

  “I’m not a hippie mother. And you know Eden Lake. Plenty of people in your social class come here.”

  “This is not what your father and I planned for you.”

  “I know.”

  “So, you’ll come to Elizabeth’s wedding and be perfectly charming with Maxwell. They want to do all that yoga stuff in Malibu too.”

  “I’ll come to the wedding, but I won’t be Maxwell’s plus one or vice versa.”

  “Allison. It’s not too much to ask this one favor—”

  “I’m seeing someone. You didn’t raise a cheater either.” The minute it left my mouth, I regretted it. I wasn’t seeing anyone, and my mother had heat-seeking liar-radar.

  “Who? Oh God, it’s not some lumberjack, is it?” she said it in a way that had me imagining her pressing the back of her hand over her brow like she was going to pass out.

  “He's a good man.” I pictured Mason in my mind because I needed the image of someone to tell a real story. Not that I had the hots for him. He was nice, but a little too intense for my taste. But it was easier to lie if I could imagine something real.

  “Does he have money?”

  “Yes. He’s a billionaire.” I knew that to be true from my research on him when I was looking for partnerships to help me grow my studio.

  “Oh. Well, Do we know his family?”

  “I don’t think so.” Mason was self-made, which would have lowered his status in my mother's eyes. Mason’s family was known in this area because of a nearly two-century long dispute between his family, the McLeans, and the Haynesville family that started when one shafted the other in a business deal. Since then, the folklore described them much in the same way as the Hatfields and McCoys. Today, Mason was the only McLean in town, and there were no Haynesvilles. However, their name lived on in the rich Haynesville Ridge area up on the hill overlooking the lake. However, none of this was known outside of the area.

  “What does ‘seeing’ mean? If it’s not serious—”

  “It is mother. We’re engaged.” I slapped my hand over my mouth, wishing I could pull that statement back in. Crap, I probably needed to give up drinking wine.

  “Engaged!” My mother's shrill tone had me pulling the phone away from my ear. “Allison Prescott Sinclair! How can you be engaged and not tell your family?”

  Oh God, Oh God… “It just happened, mother. I haven’t had time to call.”

  “You’re going to have to bring him to the wedding. Oh God…what if he’s an embarrassment. How could you do this to me?”

  “Mother, it will be alright. He doesn’t need to come, and you don’t have to worry.”

  “Of course, he has to come, Allison. You can’t be engaged and not bring your fiancé to your cousin’s wedding.”

  I dug myself a hole I couldn’t climb out of. I had to tell her the truth, but I didn’t want to hear the lecture I’d get about lying and then have to accept Maxwell as my plus one.

  “Yes, dear!” my mother called over the phone, clearly responding to something my father was saying. “You’re never going to believe this.”

  I was in deep, deep trouble.

  “Allison. You need to come a day early so your father and I can meet your fiancé. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mother.” I was in some serious trouble.

  “I have to go. Your father is home with one of his clients, and I need to get their drinks.”

  “Yes, of course. Give father my love.”

  “He’s going to have a heart attack when I tell him you’re engaged. Thank god he’s a billionaire.”

  When I hung up the phone, I poured the wine out of my glass into the sink. Then I emptied the bottle down the drain too. Wine had led me astray. At least that’s what I was going to blame my brain blip on. Seriously, Allie. What was I thinking to say that? I was hoping she’d back off on pushing Maxwell on me, but I just made things worse.

  I had to find a fiancé. I wondered if Mason would play along but quickly dismissed that idea away. I was hoping he and I could partner one day on a wellness retreat. I’d looked like an idiot if I asked him to pretend to be my fiancé. If I couldn’t handle my family, how could he trust me to manage my business? So, Mason was out.

  Wyatt? He might go along with it. I got the feeling he was interested in me of at least interested in finding out if he was interested in me. But I didn’t want that kind of pressure. I needed someone neutral. Someone who could play the part of fiancé without expecting the possibility of a relationship.

  Josh came to mind, but I immediately pushed him away. With my luck, he’d hit on my cousin Liza at her wedding.

  I was doomed. Unless I could hire an actor out of Los Angeles to help me, I was going to end up embarrassing my mother, and I would never live to hear the end of it.

  The Ice Queen

  Josh

  If someone had told me that I’d be taking a regular yoga class, I’d have thought they were off their rocker, unless, of course, it was all in an attempt to win a woman. As it turned out, I was taking a regular yoga class, and while I’d like to win over the sexy and flexible Allie Sinclair, she was clear that she wasn’t interested in being won.

  I had to admit, having a woman look at me with the disdain that Allie did was new to me. She didn’t even know me. Sure, she probably knew of my reputation with the women. I earned it too. Many women had come through Eden Lake that I’d kept company with. I hadn’t minded the rep that I earned until recently. The problem with reputations was that they stuck, even if the behavior changed. I could probably join a monastery, and people would still think I was a player.

  That was how Allie looked at me from the first moment I saw her moving into the condo across from me. I had even offered to help her. At first, I thought her rejection had to do with her not knowing me and being in a new town. Women had to be careful these days. But as time went on, her attitude never changed. Not even when I ran into her talking with Mason McLean at Paradise Java, and he introduced us. Surely Mason had the clout to vouch for me. But no, she still treated me like I had cooties.

  Fortunately, I was patient and not one to hold grudges. Someday I would melt that ice queen exterior. Even if we never hooked up, it would be nice to be friendly. We were neighbors, after all. It was possible hell would freeze over before that would happen, as it would seem. I even took her yoga class with Mason, and she was still cool to me.

  Although seeing Allie bend and stretch held an appeal, the real reason I’d agreed to take the class was Mason. As an ex-Navy SEAL, former celebrity trainer, and now fitness guru, who was also a volunteer firefighter, Mason was a man I respected. Like me, he grew up in Eden Lake, although I hadn’t remembered him when he returned. I knew his younger brother, Tucker, because he’d been in my class and he was now an NFL football player. My brother Wyatt told me that Mason had been in his class. I looked him up in the yearbook and saw a picture of a scrawny and nerdy wimp.

  Today Mason was a hulk of a man built partly by the U.S. military and partly by his own interest in fitness. I suppose he was what the ladies would call an alpha male, but he was quiet and subdued most of the time. He was a leader, but not by barking out orders or throwing his weight around. I respected him, and so when he said yoga could help me in a lot of ways, I believed him. He said it could help in dealing with the stresses related to being a firefighter.

  The class was a challenge, not so much because of the breathing, focus, or poses, but because watching Allie move always did things to me. These were things I didn’t need my fellow first responders to see. Seriously, how could I expect to r
elax with a woody?

  Still, I continued to go, and I suppose part of it was because I knew it annoyed Allie. In that respect, I guess I was still a bit immature.

  I left class, headed home for a quick shower, then back to town, where I met my brother for dinner and drinks at the local sports bar. We always tried to get together once a week if our schedules allowed. Sundays were for our parents, again, if we weren’t on duty.

  Wyatt was already at one of the bar tables when I joined him.

  “Good class, eh?” I said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  He winced. “My body isn’t a pretzel.”

  I laughed. “You’re getting old, big brother.”

  He sipped his beer. “People aren’t meant to tie themselves up. Don’t tell me you like that…” Then he rolled his eyes. “Oh wait, you like watching Allie.”

  I waved to the waitress and ordered a beer. “Are you saying you don’t?”

  He shrugged.

  “Come on. She’s got that firm tight body that’s soft in all the right places. She’s also flexible.” I couldn’t let my mind go to all the orgasmic glory her flexibility could lead to. Those thoughts were reserved for my morning shower rub and tug.

  “She’s more than a good body.” Wyatt’s tone was chastising, telling me to stop looking at women as more than sexual beings. I liked sex, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like women as people too. And who was he kidding, looks were important. Attraction started with looks. Anyone, man or woman, who said differently was lying.

  “I wouldn’t know. She’s a prickly one toward me.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re always ogling her,” Wyatt said over the rim of his glass as he sipped his beer.