12. The Love Muffin

“Perfect. Just a few more,”yelled a member of the paparazzi. As usual, they somehow managed to find us, even here at the private hangar where Dad kept his jet. The camera flashes were everywhere, but I relaxed as best I could, focusing only on the warmth of Buddy’s hand on the small of my back, so comforting.

I’d kept him busy all week with revisions on his script, but the few times we caught lunch or dinner together were enjoyable. I found his laid-back style so opposite mine. He’d always know just what to say or how to get me to laugh so I’d relax; a friendly reprieve from my hectic responsibilities at the studio.

Friends. I guess that’d describe us best. At least until we became husband and wife.

Finally, Cal’s pilot, Jack, announced the time to take off. Buddy and I boarded, settling in across the aisle from each other in the same row.

“Jack, this is Buddy Rodgers,” I introduced them and they shook hands.

A new face popped out of the galley as well. A cheerful young man. “Hi folks. I’m Delancey. I’ll be your attendant today. Shall I start you off with some champagne?”

I grinned at Buddy. “Yes, please. Add that to your list of what I love to drink occasionally.”

“I’ll have some as well,” he added, surprising me with the first drink I’d seen him have.

We settled in and Delancey brought the glasses. “Our flight time will be just about five hours to Boston. In about an hour, I’ll be serving the meal. Call me if you need anything.”

“Cheers to my fake future wife,” Buddy toasted me with his glass raised. He drank about half, then set the flute aside.

“And to you, my fake future husband.” That didn’t sound so awful, surprisingly fun and satisfying to roll off the tongue. “Thanks again for agreeing to help me. It hit me last night how silly this all must seem. I mean, to fake a wedding just so I can keep in Cal’s good graces and inherit my mother’s studio. It all sounds like a revenge plot of a fiction novel.”

“Hey, there are worse ways one could go about exacting revenge. Our agreement with marriage and…sex should be fun, at least.”

Mm. I rather enjoyed his sexy smolder and the way his voice dipped low.

“What must you think of me, though?”

“I think the world of you.” His eyes plastered onto me, heavy-lidded. “You’ve weathered a life without your mother, and life with a stepfather. Made your way to being a respected female in this business. And yeah, I heard what you said about it being a male-dominated field. So I’m even more impressed by your strength.”

“Thank you. I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I’ll take them.”

His tongue traced his bottom lip, accompanied by a long sweep of his gaze over my body. He shifted in his seat as if worried he might tent his pants soon.

“Happy to give you more. Like your long legs are sexy as fuck. The way your breasts perk up, you are either naturally endowed or have some of the best bras in the world. And don’t even get me started on how badly I want to reach out across this aisle and twirl your golden ponytail in my hand for the duration of this flight.”

Did I just walk into the mile high club? If so, sign me up. My body lit on fire with his words. If only we were alone, I just might give him everything he wanted.

“Buddy…”

“Honey… Tell me what your real name is so I can moan it when I c?—”

“Snacks?” Delancey interrupted us. We both picked bags of nuts and cookies from the tray. He also brought us water before he shifted out of our sight.

Like me, Buddy must have realized the futility of getting so hot and bothered on this plane, and searched for some new, safe topic. He cleared his throat. “So tell me. What do I need to know about your stepmom? With a name like Margarita, she’d better be tons of fun.”

“Oh, she is. Quite the personality. I’m not sure exactly what Cal saw in her, but they met and married within a few months of my mother passing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes. Well, I think he and I needed someone to help us in our grief, and I give Margarita full credit for that. We became very close. Plus, she has a daughter, Bailey, about my age, so we were a full family for a few years. Then I think Cal and Margarita drifted apart when he realized my mother couldn’t be replaced.”

“Grief will do funny things to a person. I was in grade school when my mom passed. I actually recall very little of her, but my dad did the same, hired nannies in the hopes they’d replace my mother; none ever did.”

I regarded him carefully, like a kindred spirit who had been through similar situations. “We both lost people we loved, Buddy…”

“Honey…”

“We should have pet names for each other, don’t you think?” Another change of topic was in order, so I shifted away from the heaviness of loss. “Our marriage might be fake, but doesn’t mean we should skip out on all the fun.”

He burst out laughing. “Some might say Buddy and Honey are enough.”

“How about babe?” I offered the first try.

“Meh. Sugar lips?”

“God, no. Um… Love muffin. I like that one. In fact, I’ll start with that right now. Delancey?” I called. His head appeared from around the corner. “Do you happen to have my favorite chocolate-covered strawberries on hand? Love muffin and I would like some, please.”

“Spoiled much, sweetie pie?” Buddy attempted a name for me. “I like that one, and I especially cannot wait to taste your sweet pie.”

I rolled my eyes but secretly loved it. “Is everything about sex for you—don’t answer that. Fine. And yes, I am spoiled. So, my fake husband, be prepared to spoil me rotten.”

Delancey placed a tray of the berries between us, eyeing us and our silly conversation. But I didn’t care if he or anyone judged me anymore. Thanks to Buddy, my new life motto would be to go with the flow.

“Believe me, my fake wife, my wheels have been turning from the minute we met,” he promised. And together we finished off the entire tray, with feeding each other and casting sexy glances.

Halfway through the flight, my panties were completely soaked thinking of him. After our meal of braised beef with pasta, with a couple more hours to go, we both leaned our seats back to rest for the duration.

I requested a blanket from Delancey because I always get cold. Catching Buddy’s eye, he wiggled his brows. “I can think of a better way to warm up, sweetie pie, if you’re open to suggestion.”

“Sure, why not?”

He unbuckled, then shuffled by, landing in the window seat next to me.

“Cozy, love muffin.” I remarked.

“Just you wait, sweetie pie.” Next thing I knew, strong arms lifted me onto his lap, my back and head resting against his arm and the wall. He spread the blanket on top of me and I already liked where this was headed. Thank God I wore a dress.

“Comfy?” He whispered, his lips nuzzling my earlobe.

“Very. But maybe better like this?” I shifted my skirt up my thighs, and placed one foot onto the floor, widening the path for his ultimate approach.

He growled low, running his hand beneath the blanket and up my thigh. “I like the way you think.”