Indecent Arrangements: Tabloid Affair, Secretly Pregnant!

GLASSES clinked, laughter rose and the poignant melody of “Unforgettable” wound around her like a soothing embrace. Inspired by the classic song and its apt description of her past week, Payton swayed with each step on her way to the bar. She could feel the looks. Sense the questions multiplying around her. Heard one woman’s sharp, “What?” rise above the din.

She’d been identified—through process of elimination and then conspicuous absence—as Nate’s bridesmaid from the back hall, and word had been spreading like whispered wildfire for days. Already she’d faced the most brazen of her social set, descending upon her arrival with horrified expressions and ghastly rumors.

Of course they wouldn’t believe such nonsense about Payton, but she deserved to know what people were saying…

She responded with the appropriate denials and a flicker of nerves to feed suspicions, then beat a hasty exit, not trusting herself to fight the obnoxious grin threatening to take over her face. Now all she had to do was follow the plan, drop enough subtle hints with Nate to confirm what her reputation was leading people to reject—and Nate’s secret would be safe, buried beneath the rubble of Perfect Payton’s good-girl reputation.

“What’ll you have, miss?”

The bar was stocked with all the top-shelf labels and an assortment of excellent vintages including a nice Italian white she kept at home. “The Pinot, please.”

A glass was in her hand within seconds and, moving to a quiet corner a few feet off, she sipped, her mind bent to the task of fueling the frenzy of gossip already buzzing around her. The wine was cool and refreshing with a hint of fruity sweetness. A perfect complement to the spice of scandal.

Only then a nervous sense of anticipation swirled through her belly, spreading out until it licked over her skin.

Nate.

Lifting her gaze, she found him in an instant, dressed in an immaculately cut white dinner jacket, exchanging greetings with the owner of a bank a few feet from the main entrance. A flash of brilliant blue locked on her, held her rapt, inciting a sudden panic at the betraying heat flaring to life from one look alone.

She stood arrested beneath Nate’s considering scrutiny until a feral gleam lit his eyes and the corner of his mouth curved into a dark smile that touched her from clear across the room. Made her shudder.

Not platonic. Not by a long shot. But not for the crowd or the press or protecting a secret either.

What a mess.

She needed his friendship. Was desperate for it. But the pull of this attraction between them was playing with her body and mind, and it hadn’t died off in the slightest.

To go on as friends after a single night together was one thing, but if that single night turned into a string of nights, a week, a month—something finite, because she knew without question Nate wasn’t interested in forever—what would she be left with when it was done?

The press having a field day splashing her face across the rags. Speculating on why she couldn’t hold a man like him. Comparing her to whatever bit of glitz he picked up next. Dredging up Clint and then demanding to know what she’d been thinking.

Who was she kidding?

That was exactly what she’d signed on for the moment she’d given into Nate’s kiss, agreeing to go along with the pretense of this affair. Only in the original scenario, she’d have known in her heart it was all a farce. And as it stood now, she was looking at certain heartbreak…If she gave in.

Her eyes closed as the weight of the moment settled around her.

Nate wanted her. She wanted friendship.

She didn’t stand a chance. Because deep in her heart she wanted way more than that.

Blinking open, she found the tilt to Nate’s lips evened, the brilliant blue of his stare gone flat and focused behind her. Her stomach tensed—

“What the hell’s going on, Payton?” The question came quiet and accusing from the one person she hadn’t considered through all of this.

“Clint.” She spun to face him, heat prickling her cheeks as she faced the man she’d nearly married. Tall, with a lean but healthy build, Clint was typically a well-ordered man. Tucked in. Buttoned down. Only this evening, all of that perfection seemed to have slipped the slightest degree. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. I thought—”

He cut her off with the wave of a hand. “We finished in New York early so I’m back in town.” Through with the pleasantries, he glared down at her. “Do you know what people are saying?”

She bristled at his tone of affront and the disapproving glint in his eyes. He had no right. They’d ended the relationship six months before and she knew for a fact he hadn’t been sitting home alone that whole time. “People are always saying something. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me, Payton. What they say about you definitely matters to me.”

More to the point, it reflected on him. That was what this was about. What everything was about.

His hands went to his jacket, where he adjusted the hang, checked the button. All the while, his gaze tracked over her head, scanning the room behind her. “What are you even doing with Nate Evans?”

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “Nate and I are friends.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed. The lines at his mouth pulling down. “No, you aren’t. Brandt hates him, and in the years we’ve been together I can’t remember you exchanging more than a passing hello.”

She opted to let the answer sit. The seconds ticked past as each waited for the other to back down. It wouldn’t be her.

His chin jerked back, his brow furrowed and he reached for her arm. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called you so you didn’t find out this way.”

“What are you trying to prove, Payton?” Anger flashed in his eyes as the grip at her elbow tightened; she winced, trying to pull free. “He’s a player. A predator. The last thing you are to Nate Evans is his friend. Mark my words,” he hissed, “you’re nothing more than a f—”

Tension snapped through the air and a wall of solid muscle closed in behind her. “That’s enough, Clint,” Nate cut in, his voice deadly low and serious.

Clint’s hand released her, his eyes widening as she rubbed her arm then seeking hers apologetically for the unrecognized force of his hold. Taking a step back, he smoothed his jacket as a flush of pink tinged his cheekbones.

“Evans, this is a matter I need to settle with Payton. I’d appreciate it if you gave us a few minutes.”

Nate leveled him with an unyielding stare, pulling Payton into his side. “No.”

Clint seemed to gauge the moment, notice the growing attention surrounding them, and shook his head. “Payton, this is a mistake.”

If she gave in, he would be right. Her heart would pay for her body’s wants. But regardless of her personal indecision, publicly she was committed. “It’s my mistake to make.”

He held her stare a moment. His features hardening as he acknowledged with a terse nod.

And then he was gone. Retreating through the crowd, offering arm claps and boisterous laughter by way of damage control as he went. Stopping for only one furtive glance back.

“You okay?” Nate asked, a single vein throbbing in his neck as he ran his big hands gently over the place where Clint had bruised her.

Payton placed her palm at the center of his chest, felt the violent punch of his heart beneath. The tight rein on his fury as he fought for control. “I’m fine. Clint wouldn’t hurt me.”

She took a deep breath as Nate’s arm crossed her back, his hand settling possessively at the flare of her hip. It was obvious and so good and not at all what they’d discussed. “I thought the plan was to keep some distance. Play hard to get with the press?”

Nate peered down at her tucked beneath his arm. Wide brown eyes met his and he felt the pull of them straight through the center of his body. A little too far north of his belt for his comfort, truth be told, but it was there nonetheless. “The plan changed.”

Yeah, like the second that jerk touched her. But in all honesty, things were pretty shaky before that. “Clint just gave us the perfect opportunity to bring this to a head…Tell me to get the hell away from you.”

She jerked out of his hold. “You’re pretend breaking up with me?”

As furious as Clint had made him, he couldn’t help but smile at the indignation in her expression and tone. “No, princess. I’m not pretend breaking up with you. To the contrary, we’re going to have our first public spat. And then I’m hauling you out of here to pretend make up with you.”