Nancy Warren - A Very Fake Fiancée - The Fiancée Charade / My Fake Fiancée / A Very Exclusive Engagement

Whatever the cause, if she wanted to enforce the no-sex rule, she would have to leave now, before she was enticed back into his arms and lost her willpower altogether.

She intended to leave him a note, outlining her conditions. She was certain, given the businesslike way Gabriel had couched her new job description, that once he adjusted to the fact that she would not continue to sleep with him, that he would be happy with the idea.

Shifting slightly, just enough to dislodge Gabriel’s arm, Gemma inched nearer the edge of the bed. Fully awake now, the chill of early morning registered. The gray light of dawn pushed through the enormous expanse of glass that framed the panoramic view of the Mediterranean, revealing the hedonistic chaos of the bedroom. Her clothes and Gabriel’s were scattered where they had discarded them, and at some point the silk coverlet had slipped off the bed and now lay tumbled on the floor.

Outside the piercing cry of a gull was loud enough that Gemma held her breath as Gabriel stirred restlessly. The rumpled silk sheet slipped low on his hips, exposing his long muscular torso and the intriguing line of hair that arrowed to his loins.

Setting her jaw against the instant tug on her senses, and annoyed with herself that after years of abstinence she was actually fickle enough to let herself be ruled by desire, Gemma worked her way free of the gorgeous, entangling sheets. Her feet landed softly on the bare expanse of the hardwood floor, the cool of the marble-smooth wood sending an involuntary shiver through her.

Overpoweringly aware of her nakedness and the faint stiffness that telegraphed just what she had been doing for half the night, Gemma was tempted to drag the silk coverlet off the floor and pull it around herself as a covering. Reluctantly, she abandoned the idea. It was a miracle she hadn’t woken Gabriel up already, and modesty came a bad second next to her need to leave and reestablish her collapsed boundaries.

Padding silently, she found her panties. As she straightened, she caught a ghostly view of herself in a carved gold full-length mirror. Her mind instantly slid back to the riveting, addictive pleasure she’d experienced making love with Gabriel. Cheeks warming, she scooped up her bra, which was dangling over the arm of a chair, and a little desperately reminded herself of the downside of all this.

Six years, and she had made the same mistake with the same guy, and once again without settling any of the vital issues, such as love and commitment. The only saving grace was that this time they had used contraception so she was safe from a second pregnancy.

Despite the fact that she absolutely did not want to get pregnant, the thought was oddly depressing, because it brought home the fact that as irresistible as the passion they had shared was, love had definitely not been involved.

It impressed upon her the need to stick to her resolve that there would be no more sex, because giving in would only signal to Gabriel that she would happily accept sex over love and commitment, that she didn’t require him to value her.

When the fake engagement was over, she could work on forgetting Gabriel. She had done it before; she could do it again.

As she bent to pick up her lace dress, which lay pooled on the floor, her fingers brushed Gabriel’s discarded shirt, which was lying next to it. Irresistibly tempted, she picked up the shirt instead.

The faint, clean masculine scent that clung to the fabric made her stomach clench on a zing of desire. Out of nowhere a shimmering wave of emotion hit her. If she’d had any sense she wouldn’t have done such a silly, sentimental thing as picking up his shirt, but now that she had, she didn’t want to relinquish it.

It was silly. She didn’t need a memento of their time together. She would see Gabriel again in just a few days when she started at Ambrosi Pearls, but by then their relationship would be back on a proper professional footing. Apart from the necessities of the charade, there would be no more intimacy, no more passionate kisses, no more snuggling in bed. And absolutely no more sex.

Although, it was a fact that the shirt would be a more practical piece of clothing to wear on Medinos in broad daylight than the sexy lace gown.

A rustling sound, Gabriel turning over in bed, made her freeze in place. She risked a quick look. He was now lying sprawled on his stomach on the side of the bed she had vacated. In the gray light slanting across the bed, the long line of his back looked muscular and sleek, his tanned skin exotically dark against the white silk. From the even tenor of his breathing, and his utter, boneless relaxation, he had simply turned over and was unaware that she had left the bed.

Letting out a silent breath of relief, Gemma padded quickly from the room. Minutes later, she had found her bag and retrieved her phone from Gabriel’s jacket pocket. She located a bathroom off the main living area. After using the facilities and washing her hands and face, she quickly dressed.

As she fastened the buttons of Gabriel’s shirt, she checked the effect in the large vanity mirror. Gauzy and white, the shoulder seams fell halfway to her elbows and the shirttails covered her to her knees.

She tried not to notice the wild tousle of her hair, or the fact that her mouth was faintly swollen and there was a faint red patch on her neck where Gabriel’s stubbled jaw must have scraped her skin.

A tinge of misery edged through her resolve as she rolled up the trailing shirt cuffs until they were bunched just above her wrists. The result wasn’t stylish, but it was acceptable. She could easily be someone who had gone for an early morning swim and had decided to use a shirt as a cover-up.

Her heart leaped in her chest as she checked her wristwatch and saw how much time had passed. She still needed to write her note. If she was going to get out of the house before Gabriel woke up, she would have to hurry.

Not bothering to finger comb her hair, she picked up her bag and padded to the kitchen. Finding a piece of notepaper, she quickly dashed off an explanatory note. She included her email and phone numbers, anchored it on the counter with a cup then padded to the front door. Remembering to turn the alarm off, she eased the door open and stepped outside. Her heart hammered as she gently closed the door. Simultaneously, her phone chimed.

Sending a brief prayer upward that she had gotten out of the house before Sanchia rang, she answered the call as she walked quickly, avoiding the drive and instead heading for the beach. The route to town was more direct and it would be easier on her bare feet.

The conversation was grounding. It was a relief to put her own needs aside and think of Sanchia’s instead, and for her daughter the equation was simple—she needed the security of her mother back in her life.

Gemma checked her watch again as she said good-night and ended the call. She then rang the airline and changed her flight. The extra cost made her stomach hollow out, but now that she had a job, she would be able to replenish her bank account.

A fifteen-minute walk to the hotel, and hopefully any press would still be in bed after the late night. She had an hour and a half until her flight. She had already done most of her packing, so all she really needed to do was pile the few things she’d left out into her case, zip it closed then catch a taxi. She would check in and board straight away.

Once she got to Sydney, she would sort all of the furniture and possessions she had left in storage, dispose of the things she didn’t need and have the rest freighted to New Zealand.

Number two on her list of things to do was change her appearance. The idea was extreme, but she was tired of the media sneaking around after her, and with her stylish clothes and red hair she was just too easy to spot.