Emily McKay - The Hudson's - Luc, Jack and Charlotte

Hours later, she awakened to the sound of a knock at the front door. She sat up in bed, confused, realizing she was still dressed in the same jeans and flannel shirt she’d worn the day before. What? How? She brushed her hair from her eyes, trying to blink away her drowsiness.

Mentally backtracking, she recalled coming into the cabin and settling into the office so she could steal a few naps in between watching the mare from the remote camera feed. How had she ended up in her bed?

Another knock sounded at the door. She heard a low male voice. Luc Hudson, she remembered and pushed her quilt aside. She glanced at the clock and cringed. Seven a.m. She should have been up by five! Dashing to the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth, then rushed down the hall. She took a turn toward the office.

“Gwen, dear,” Luc called.

She stopped midstep, frowning at the dear . She swung around to look at him. He stood in the doorway backlit and looking wide-eyed and perfectly awake. She tried not to snarl.

A man she’d never seen before craned around him and lifted a camera, taking a half-dozen shots as she stared in surprise. Luc shoved the door closed and strode toward her.

“They’re already here,” he said.

“Who?” she asked, craving a cup or ten of coffee. “And how did I end up—”

“We don’t have time. We’ll have to talk later.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Put this on,” he said, pulling a jeweler’s box from his pocket and opening it. Lifting the large solitaire with a diamond-studded band, he caught her left hand and pushed the ring onto her finger.

Gwen gaped at the ring, shocked at how well it fit. “How did you know—”

“Pretend you’re madly in love with me,” he said and tugged her toward the front door.

“But what—”

“The paparazzi,” he said and opened the door.

Gwen immediately heard a dozen clicks from the camera. “When did you and Luc Hudson get involved?” another man asked. “And what’s going on with your sister, Nicki?”

Luc slid his arm around her waist. “Gotta give you guys credit. You’re the first. You make it damn hard to keep a relationship private.” He turned toward Gwen and dipped his head. “I think they’ve caught us, sweetheart,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

Gwen blinked in surprise at the sensation of his lips on hers. Hearing the click of the camera reminded her of her role, Luc’s adoring fiancée. She deliberately melted against him and lifted her hand to his bicep. His kiss felt both foreign and natural. His body was warm and strong, his hand at her back firm and persuasive. His mouth lingered, catching her off guard, but she recovered, ducking her head into his shoulder.

“So shy. Listen, why don’t you come back later? We can show you the horse we rescued yesterday. She’s pregnant.”

“Gwen’s pregnant?” the reporter asked.

Gwen felt as if she’d been slapped. “No,” she said immediately in a sharp voice. “ The horse is pregnant. Not me.”

“Okay,” the reporter said, sounding disappointed. “Let me get a shot of the rock. Everyone likes to see the ring.”

Gwen raised her hand and stared at the unfamiliar ring on her finger.

“Cool, you look like you can’t believe it,” the reporter said.

The man had no idea, Gwen thought and plastered a pleasant expression on her face.

He glanced at Luc. “You’ll let us shoot some film?”

“It’ll make you understand even more why I fell for her.”

The photographer glanced at Gwen. “As if you needed a reason,” he said. “Hollywood misses you, Gwen.”

Gwen smiled, amused by how glamorous she didn’t look with zero makeup, hair that hadn’t been brushed and sleepy eyes. Good thing she didn’t give a rip. “You’re too kind.” She wrapped her hand around Luc’s bicep. “There’s a diner in town if you’re hungry.”

“Okay,” the reporter said. “You promise you won’t go anywhere?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Luc assured the man.

The reporter nodded. “This is gonna be great. So, I’m Tripp and this is Gordon.” Both men exchanged handshakes with her and Luc. “See you in an hour.”

“Two would be better,” Luc said.

“Okay,” Tripp said reluctantly. “Two hours, but not one minute more.”

The two men ran to their car and exchanged a high five before getting in and leaving. Disgusted, Gwen shut the front door and immediately rounded on Luc. “Why did you invite the paparazzi to hang around and shoot film? I don’t want them on the ranch.”

“They won’t be here that long,” he said. “This is perfect. They won’t be focusing their full attention on us.”

“I don’t want this ranch exploited for the almighty sake of Hudson Pictures. This is a beautiful, peaceful, safe place for the horses and—”

“And for you,” Luc interjected. “A safe place for you to hide from the rest of the world.”

Something inside her twisted. His words were like a hot poker fresh from the fire, stabbing at her most vulnerable point. “You have no right to criticize the life I’ve chosen. You have no right to invite these—” she broke off, her frustration growing by the millisecond “—these parasites onto my uncle’s property just because it serves your purpose. After years of working non-stop, my uncle is finally taking that three-week cruise he deserves. I hate to see his reaction when he returns to this mess. Have you thought about what will happen after this? How many more reporters will show up once our photos hit the rag sheets? And after this charade is over, how am I supposed to handle the reporters who keep showing up, asking for an explanation of why you and I broke up?”

Luc met her gaze with infuriating calm. “You can trust me. I’ll handle this.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before. Trust me are the two most deadly words in Hollywood.”

“Like you said yesterday, we’re not in Hollywood. I’ve been handling the press for years, Gwen. I can handle them this time, too. If it gets too intense, I’ll bring in some security.”

“Great,” she said, her voice full of sarcasm. “Exactly what I wanted. Security.”

“It’s temporary. And you shouldn’t knock the publicity you’ll get. You’ll get a flood of donations for horse rescue after this airs.”

She sighed, hating that he was right. “I need to get a shower. I don’t know how I ended up in my bed with my clothes still on. Last thing I remembered I was in my office watching the mare on the monitor and—” She stopped, seeing the knowing expression on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me you carried me to bed.”

“I did it for myself. Your head was cradled in your hands. You were going to end up with a helluva neck ache. You’re already difficult enough without anything else added.”

She opened her mouth to retort but couldn’t think of a suitable response. Was she supposed to thank him for his thought fulness or rip him to shreds for daring to touch her while she was asleep? She wasn’t accustomed to having anyone watch over her, especially a man such as Luc Hudson.

“I need to know how long this is going to last,” she said. “And don’t tell me ‘however long it takes.’ You know better. I bet you have this planned down to the minute. How long?”

“Barring complications with your sister, thirty to forty-five days,” he said.

Gwen told herself it was just another shoot. Her last shoot.

Two hours later, Luc watched Gwen engage both the reporter and the photographer as she showed them the rescued pregnant horse. “She’s still skittish and afraid, so you’ll need to keep your distance. Isn’t she a beauty?”