Second Chance Husband: A Fake Bride Romance Read online

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He sits down on my bed, in the middle of the messy sheets and drops a bunch of brochures in front of him. There are like fifteen of them spread out as he picks one up at random, holding it up in the half-morning light.

  “I wanted to talk to you about our honeymoon.”

  I stare at him like he just spoke in Klingon. It takes my sleepy brain a few seconds to actually decode what he said and what he’s doing.

  “Get out,” I say.

  “I was thinking Hawaii,” he says, “but we could always do Paris.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” His smile is so innocent it’s almost scary, like he believes it. “I just want to give you everything you need, wifey.”

  “Get out, you asshole. I was asleep.”

  He grins and gets off my bed, leaving the brochures there. “Okay, fine, I can tell you’re cranky. Not a morning person. Good to know.”

  “It’s barely after six! And you’re not funny.”

  “I’m hilarious.” He grins at me as he walks past, but pauses, his body close to mine. “You know, you look good right now. Hair all messy, body barely covered. What were you dreaming about?”

  He must see me blush as I recall the tail end of the dream I was having just before he woke me up. He goes to say something but I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I swear, I’ll quit this job if you don’t get out right now.”

  He hesitates, smiles, and nods. “Whatever you say, wifey.” He leaves, pushing open the door and letting it close behind him.

  I groan and collapse back into bed. I’m so annoyed and there are brochures all over the sheets. I can’t get comfortable even after I shove them all onto the floor and pull the sheets up over my head. Sooner than I want, my phone’s alarm starts going off, and it’s time to get up again.

  That bastard. I was starting to think maybe he was getting his act together. Maybe he’d drop this stupid little prank.

  Nope, apparently he’s still as immature as always.

  * * *

  The last shoot of the week takes place in an up-and-coming restaurant owned by this hipster friend of Jace’s named Tommy. He has long brown hair pulled back into a bun, although his hairline is starting to receded. His beard is patchy and scraggly, like he never bothers to trim it, and his ears are both gauged wide. He has a deep, almost booming laugh, and it’s obvious why Jace likes him.

  Tommy is a nice guy. He opens his restaurant to us and rolls out a red carpet, so to speak. He’s effusive of Jace when we first walk in the door, and the two friends hug.

  “I haven’t seen you in, what, a year?” Tommy asks him.

  “More than that.” Jace grins at his old friend. “I was a different guy back then.”

  “So I hear. How come you only call when you want to film in my restaurant?”

  “Because I’m a taker, you know that, Tommy.”

  Tommy grins and hugs Jace again. “Just glad you’re here, man. Who are these people?”

  Jace introduces him to Grant, Eric, and Calvin, before turning to me. “And this is my wife, Piper.”

  I practically choke on my words. “Your wife?” Tommy asks. “Are you shitting me?”

  “I shit you not, my friend. We got married recently.”

  “And I wasn’t invited?”

  “No, no, no,” I say quickly, shaking my head and waving my hands. “Not married. Not wife.” I’m so flustered I can only speak like a caveman, apparently.

  “What’s she mean?” Tommy asks, eyeing Jace suspiciously. “This very eloquent lady here is directly contradicting you.”

  Jace grins and shrugs a little bashfully. “Well, maybe it’s not exactly a simple marriage.”

  “Sham marriage,” I manage to say. “It’s a sham marriage.” Some of my language skills are slowly coming back.

  “Ah,” Tommy says, giving Jace a knowing wink. “She needed a beard. Nice.”

  “No,” I say, gagging again. “Not beard.”

  “Speak in full sentences, Piper,” Jace prompts. “Tommy’s going to think you’re dying or something.”

  I take a deep breath and calm myself. “He tricked me into marrying him. It’s a marriage on paper, nothing else.”

  “Ah.” Tommy nods sagely, and doesn’t look surprised. “The old prank marriage. Classic.”

  “Classic? How is that classic?”

  “See, Tommy gets it!” Jace grins and the two guys high-five. “My man, it’s been too long.”

  They walk away arm in arm toward the kitchen and I’m left standing there like a total moron. How the hell does that guy think it’s totally normal to trick someone into marrying them?

  No wonder those guys are friends. They’re both completely insane.

  Eric and Calvin follow Jace and Tommy. As Grant walks past, he gives me a sympathetic little smile, which is practically his way of hugging me and telling me to let it all out. I sigh, adjust my bag, and follow the group.

  I’m still the damn producer, even if Jace is trying to undermine me at every turn. I thought we were starting to have something there after last night, but this morning and now this just proves that he’s completely unable to change.

  Fortunately, filming goes fine. They keep the joking on camera and on topic, going through a few of Tommy’s famous dishes. The guys really light the screen up and for a second, I almost forget again how much of an ass Jace is. When it’s over though, I join them at a table for a quick bite to eat, and although the food is good, I wish the company were a little bit more… refined.

  “Shots,” Tommy states, handing little glasses of his fancy home-made vodka around the table. “To a successful show.”

  “Cheers,” Jace says, tossing it back. I reluctantly drink mine, although I should know better. It’s smooth and delicious though the glow in my stomach suggests it definitely has a kick.

  “How’s it all going so far?” Tommy directs his question at me as the others all dig into their food, including Jace.

  “Fine so far,” I say. “I wish the host weren’t such an ass, but otherwise, I’m happy with it.”

  Jace grins and winks at me but doesn’t bother to respond.

  Tommy smiles, leaning toward me on his elbows. “Our boy here is abrasive sometimes, but he means well. Right, Jace?”

  “Right,” Jace says, his mouth full.

  “He’s good on camera, I’ll give him that.” I’m not in the mood to be generous.

  Tommy sighs. “I’m sure he’s giving you a lot of grief for this marriage thing, right?”

  I nod, glaring daggers in Jace’s direction while he blissfully eats, oblivious to this conversation.

  “It just means he likes you,” Tommy says. “I mean, he wouldn’t waste his time if he didn’t, right?”

  “Oh, so we’re in third grade. He’s just hitting the girl he really likes.” I roll my eyes. “Get over that play school crap.”

  Tommy just shrugs, nonplussed. “Suit yourself, but I know my boy here, and it’s the truth. It’s just his way of bringing you into his life.”

  Jace looks up and our eyes meet suddenly. There’s a sly grin there, and for a second, I get a glimpse of something deeper beneath that handsome and cocky attitude. He’s more than just the bad boy chef, the addict, the womanizer. He’s deeper… darker…

  “He’s right,” Jace says. “I want to fuck you.”

  The whole table goes totally silent. I gape at him as his grin gets bigger. Tommy bursts out laughing, breaking the tension as the camera guys also start laughing. Jace keeps grinning and watching me as the others go back to eating, but I don’t think he was joking. I don’t think he was joking at all.

  We end the segment with another short session, just the two guys drinking and talking about the old days. I’m distracted the whole time though, picturing what it would be like to go on a honeymoon with Jace, imagining what he would make me feel if I actually gave him the chance.

  It makes me si
ck and it excites me and I don’t know what’s more confusing.

  6

  Jace

  Piper doesn’t talk to me on the flight out of Las Vegas, and I can’t really blame her. I’ve been relentless with the wife thing, and while she just makes it so damn easy, I should probably back off.

  We do have to have a working relationship, after all. Even if I want to have a more physical one on top of that, I need her for this show. She’s a solid producer with a really good eye and amazing attention to detail, but more than that, she’s hungry for this.

  I did my research on her before we started. The network floated her name out there to me, along with a few other names to check out, but I knew it was her as soon as I did a little Googling. I remembered her from college, of course, but it was her resume that really sealed the deal.

  Every one of her projects got close, but never quite made it. That means she’s on the edge, probably on her way out, and she’s starving for a hit. She wants this just as badly as I do, and there’s something about that. Obviously I can relate, but I also think she’ll work harder than anyone else. Some guy with an already-established list of credits doesn’t really give a shit if my show bombs, but Piper cares. This is personal for her, just like it’s completely personal for me.

  That’s why I chose her. Of course, she’s fucking sexy and I love that we have a history, but mostly it’s because she’s going to take this show as seriously as I do.

  I keep stealing glances at her on the plane. She’s keeping her head down, nose tucked in a book, not interested in the world around her. Eric and Calvin are trying as hard as they possibly can to ignore each other, and Grant’s sleeping peacefully like he’s in his own bed at home. I want to lean across the aisle and talk to her, but something holds me back.

  Maybe it’s all the teasing I’ve been dishing out, or maybe it’s the teasing I plan on doing soon, but I decide to let her have a break. She earned it, after all. I couldn’t be happier with the show so far, but these next few days are going to be pretty telling.

  * * *

  We land in the Philadelphia International Airport after a brutally long flight. I got some sleep, which is unusual for me, especially without Ambien. Piper leads the way across the terminal and goes to grab the rental car while the boys pluck out their bags.

  “I’ll help them out,” I tell her, and she just shrugs, clearly uninterested in what I do.

  Which is all well and good. She should definitely keep her eye on me, but she hasn’t learned that lesson yet. She will though.

  I slip outside as soon as she’s out of sight. Calvin throws me a look but I just ignore him. I know this city like the back of my hand, and I have no trouble flagging a cab and giving him the address of the hotel we’re staying at. I ditch those assholes and look out the window as we speed down 95 toward 76, the city of brotherly love spreading out in front of me.

  Home sweet home. I grew up here, back when I was just a troubled kid living with my single mom. I still remember those days playing in the streets of Deep South Philly, getting into trouble, getting into fights. My mom moved from Philly a while ago, although my grandmom’s still here, living on her own in the northeast still at eighty-eight. Tough old bird, my grandma.

  The cab drops me outside of the Sofitel on the corner of Seventeenth and Sansom. It’s a big building right downtown in the heart of Center City Philly. People bustle past, the streets clogged with bike riders, yellow cabs, and annoyed-looking Suburban drivers. I take a deep breath of the stinking air, reeking of body odor, gas fumes, and puke, and I smile at the familiar stench.

  “Home sweet home,” I whisper to myself as I head toward the Sofitel’s big, gleaming glass doors. I slip inside and hustle to the front desk, smiling at the pretty girl wearing a black jacket, her hair pulled back into a tight bun.

  “Welcome, how can I help you?” she asks.

  “Do you have a reservation for Jace Morgan?”

  She hesitates. I spot recognition in her eye as she gets a closer look. I toss her one of my more charming smiles and she blushes a little bit as she quickly gets herself together and starts typing on her computer.

  “Let’s see, Mr. Morgan.”

  “Call me Jace.”

  She smiles again. “Erm, yes, Jace. You’re right here, in a block of… five rooms?”

  “Think you can do me a favor?” I smile even bigger. “Can you switch it from five rooms to two?”

  She hesitates but her professionalism maintains. “Certainly. Part of your party canceled?”

  “Actually,” I say, leaning in toward her in a conspiratorial way, “it’s more of a prank I’m playing. We’re filming a new show, see, and this is, ah, my way of bonding with the crew. So when my producer gets here and starts to yell at you, please insist we can only have two rooms.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she says.

  “Please,” I ask. “It’s a lot to ask, I know.” I slip two hundred-dollar bills from my pocket and place them on the counter in front of me, still smiling, keeping it casual. I slide them over toward her, maintaining eye contact.

  She glances down at the money, back up at me, and back down again. She takes the cash under her hand and holds it there for a second, glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

  “I think I can, ah, maybe book those rooms,” she says finally. “You know, for your bonding exercise.”

  “Perfect. I know the Sofitel wouldn’t let me down.” I flash her another smile. “Now, where’s that bar?”

  She points behind me. “Right over there.”

  “Great. Remember, my producer’s gonna get pissed, but hold strong.” I wink at her. “More tips in the future, I promise.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

  “Call me Jace.” I walk away, over to the bar, order a whisky, and wait for the upcoming shitstorm.

  * * *

  “Motherfucking fuckers,” Piper growls, slamming herself down on the stool next to me. “Every room in the place, booked, and we only have two reserved.”

  “What happened now?” I smile at her innocently as she fumes.

  I watched it unfold in real-time. Piper and the crew coming in together, looking bedraggled from the trip and probably annoyed that I ditched them. Piper finding out about the room situation and losing her shit. I had to wink at the front desk girl to keep her from cracking, that was how tough Piper came down on her. Poor girl, I’ll tip her another two hundred if this works out.

  They argued for a bit, and finally Piper stormed off. Now she’s sitting next to me, ordering wine from the bland-looking bartender and squeezing her hands into fists over and over. The crew is sitting at a table not far away, playing cards and pretending like Piper isn’t about to tear down the whole city like Godzilla.

  “There are only two rooms?” I ask her.

  She glares at me as the wine comes. “Something tells me you had a hand in this.”

  “No, never.” I hold up my hands. “See, perfectly clean.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Jace.”

  “Piper.” I smile in return.

  She sighs and sips her wine, hesitates, and drinks half of it down. I grin and watch her.

  “Okay,” she says finally. “We have two rooms. That means you and the crew in one, and I get the other.”

  I shake my head, still smirking at her. “Not a chance.”

  “I’m not bunking with any of them,” she says.

  “You can bunk with me.”

  She stares than laughs, shaking her head. “I’d rather go stay somewhere else.”

  “You could do that, but I bet the network will be pissed.” I cock my head at her. “Shoestring budget, remember?”

  She winces a little bit, looking at her wine like a drowning man looks at a life raft. I still remember the first meeting we had with her boss. The phrase he used specifically was “shoestring budget” which basically means we have no extra cash for anything at all, and if we want something to ha
ppen, we’d better make it happen ourselves.

  “You’re rich. Why don’t you go stay somewhere else?”

  I snort. “Most of my money went right up my arm, wifey. I don’t have much left.”

  “Please, there’s no way you shot up that much cash.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You underestimate how much heroin a very dedicated and relatively wealthy addict can do.”

  She groans and sips her wine, this time resisting the urge to chug it down. “I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world for what I’m about to say next.”

  I can feel a rush of excitement in my chest. Piper looks tired from the flight, her hair going somewhat frizzy with the humidity, her clothes hours old and more geared toward comfort than beauty, and yet she looks so much sexier than I’ve ever seen her.

  “Yes?” I say.

  “We’ll stay in the same room.” She glares at me again, leaning in close. “But I get the bed, and you can have the damn floor.”

  “What if there’s a couch?”

  “Floor,” she repeats. “And if you try anything…” She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll cut off your balls.”

  I blink at her and laugh. “You know, that’s not the first time someone’s threatened to castrate me.”

  “Yeah, well, they should’ve made it happen.”

  “Just the opposite.” I smirk and put my hand overtop hers. “She ended up a very, very satisfied customer.”

  Piper groans and pulls her hand away. She finally succumbs and finishes her wine, motioning for another glass. “Seriously, Jace. No bullshit. I’m pretty sure you orchestrated all this, but I’m too tired and too annoyed to fight it anymore. They’ll stay in one room and we’ll get the other. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, nice and pleasant. “Sounds good to me.”

  “And if you make one joke about—”

  “Just a husband and his wife, sharing a bed,” I say before she can finish. “The most natural thing in the world.”

  “Yeah, that.” She sighs. “Whatever.” Her wine comes a moment later and she drinks half that one down in a couple of gulps.