Trapped with Mr. Walker: A fake dating steamy romance (The Men Series – Interconnected Standalone Romances Book 6)
Trapped with Mr. Walker: Chapter 4

“DO I LOOK LIKE a convincing future mayor’s girlfriend?” I ask as I walk into the living area and perform a twirl.

Reed’s eyes lift from the phone in his hand to the figure-hugging silk of my pink dress as I complete my three-sixty. Thank goodness for Maria lending it to me. She gets loads of free dresses since Vogue featured her as businesswoman of New York in their latest annual awards. Really, I’m doing the up-and-coming designer a favor by wearing the stunning gown, even if I am loving every second of feeling like a film star in it.

I grin as the fabric slides over my skin.

“Well?” I look up at Reed.

He shoves his phone into his pocket without looking back at it; his eyes firmly glued to the high split that’s allowing a peek of my thigh to be on show.

“Too much for the stuffy bores you mentioned?” I shimmy a little, testing out how much leg will be exposed when I dance. I mean, it’s a little bit of skin, but not too much. I think it’s perfectly acceptable. The neckline is high and elegant, so it works. Tits or leg, Suze always says. Not both.

“No… not too much. You look beautiful.” Reed finally lifts his eyes from my thigh to meet mine, and I clasp my hands in front of my face and walk closer to him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so rude. I’m going on about my dress, and here you are looking…” I take in his black dinner jacket, bowtie, and crisp, white shirt. Standing this close, his cologne reaches me in waves. Each note of its unique scent dances around me like tiny whispers of dreams in the air.

He looks like a fantasy. A sex one.

“… Looking very, very… capable,” I finish.

Damn, this must be how he manages his man-whoring so easily. He doesn’t even need to open his mouth. If it isn’t the scent of him, then it’s the deep earthy strands of his hair or his gray smoky quartz eyes that light up when he talks. And if you survive all that, then it’s the broad chest and strong arms that fill out a dinner suit like it was custom made for him that will take you down.

My brows pinch together as I study him. I’m no expert on designer suits, but I’m also sure in all the years I’ve worked at The Songbird, and all the high-profile guests I’ve seen, I have never seen anyone look like Reed looks in a dinner suit before. If the mayoral campaign could be cast on sex appeal alone, then he would win, hands down.

“Capable?” One of his thick, dark brows lifts.

“Yes.” I nod at him, a smile growing on my face. “Totally capable of spending an evening outshining stuffy people when you tell them all about your amazing policies and plans for the city.”

I reach up and straighten his bowtie, my fingers brushing his freshly shaven jaw by accident. His eyes widen, and I pull my hand back.

“Sorry, force of habit. I’ve helped my brother when he’s worn them in the past.”

Reed clears his throat and looks away as he picks up the key card for the apartment. “It’s fine. Are you ready to go?”

The dinner is being held in one of Manhattan’s grand hotels. After we’ve eaten, I head to the ladies’ room and tap out a message to Maria to inform her she can tell Griffin their food is not a scratch on The Songbird’s.

I slide my phone back into my purse and pull out my nude lipstick to re-apply. As far as stuffy evenings go, this one hasn’t been half bad. Reed and I are sitting at a table with a few other couples. One guy is an attorney. Reed spent a lot of time talking to him about things I tuned out of once I realized the woman, called Natalia, next to me had a dog. I saw a picture of the cute bundle of white fluff on her phone and that turned into a full-blown conversation about how she founded her own dog walking business for city workers. She’s had to take on more staff as demand has grown. She said they even have other animals on their books now, including a house goat. That led to us leaning over our phones, laughing wildly at funny animal videos. I caught the amused look on Reed’s face before I excused myself to come and freshen up.

I shake my hair out and have one more glance in the mirror before heading back out to the main ballroom. I spot Reed immediately, despite the place being crowded. He’s hard to miss, being one of the tallest men here. He’s standing by the bar talking to a guy I recognize from a show I’ve watched before work. I figured I should do some research if I’m going to nail this fake political girlfriend thing. Some of it seems quite interesting and I bet I would do way better on a pop quiz now from my extended knowledge of current affairs.

I walk over and flash my friendliest smile as I reach the pair of them.

“Ah, good evening.” The older gray-haired man smiles back at me and holds out his hand. “I’m—”

“Tom Coulter,” I finish for him, taking his hand. “I watched your piece on global warming and the importance of tackling climate change two mornings ago. It was great.”

His eyes soften as he looks back at me. “Why, thank you. That’s wonderful to hear…”

“Harley,” Reed says as he steps closer to me.

I take my hand back from Tom and wrap it around Reed’s solid bicep as I sink into his side. He stiffens before he clears his throat.

“Tom, this is Harley Jacobs. My girlfriend.”

I swallow as he says girlfriend. It’s the first time I’ve heard him say it in public. It sounds weird.

“Oh?” Tom’s brows shoot up before he recovers quickly, smiling at the two of us. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harley. How are you enjoying the evening?”

“Oh, it’s”—I glance at Reed, who’s looking down at my hand on his arm—“not nearly as full of stuffy bores as I had expected.”

Tom’s eyes light up before he tips his head back and laughs out loud. “Yes, my dear. You’ve hit the nail on the head there. That’s why my wife, Margo, doesn’t usually like to attend many of these things. She only agreed to come if she could have a dance with this young man again.” Tom looks at Reed, who’s smiling warmly at him.

“I would be honored. Your wife is a wonderful dancer. And she tells me some interesting tales about you when I get her alone.” Reed chuckles as Tom slaps him on the shoulder, then turns to wink at me.

“Watch this one, young lady. He’s a joker.”

I giggle as Tom averts his gaze to a woman who’s waving at us across the room. Then he bids us a good evening and goes to join her.

“Is that Margo? Wow, she looks amazing,” I say in delight as I admire her silver sequined gown.

“Yes, that’s her.”

Reed’s bicep twitches beneath my fingers, and when I look up, his expression has returned to strait-laced and serious.

“Reed,” I whisper, rising on my toes so I can whisper in his ear. “You need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” he grumbles, his eyes scanning the room.

“Really?” I arch an eyebrow at him as I squeeze the thick, tense muscle of his bicep. “Because you feel so relaxed right now.” I give it another squeeze. There’s no give at all. It’s a solid rock of strength.

He keeps his head straight, but there’s a quirk at the corner of his lips as he side-eyes me. “This is how I always feel.”

“What, hard?” I blurt, my eyes widening as the amusement in his eyes fires up like a flare. “Reed Walker,” I tut. “You have a dark and dirty mind.”

He smirks and then falls serious again as his eyes fix on something. “You’ve no idea how dark my mind is, Harls.”

Harls.

He’s never called me that before. Only my family ever calls me Harls. I never hear that name in person here in New York. It should feel out of place, wrong. Yet, I kind of like the way it sounds in his deep voice.

I look up at his profile. Maria’s right. He is good at his job. That’s a technique for getting people to feel comfortable around you, isn’t it? Call them by their name or nickname. Use it when you speak to them. I bet it’s a trick he practices a lot. Reed Walker is one smooth operator.

I follow his eye line to a stunning raven-haired woman in a long crimson dress and the dark-haired man on her arm. I say on her arm and not the other way around, as it’s obvious from the confidence seeping out of her in every graceful step that she’s the one who’s the top in that relationship. As they get closer, I recognize the man she’s with.

“Isn’t that Graham Hutchings?” I talk softly so my lips don’t move.

Reed’s gaze is glued to the pair of them as his bicep tension climbs another notch to rigid steel beneath my palm. He doesn’t answer me. But I know that one of his running opponents is almost right in front of us now with his black widow partner. I’m not usually one to judge harshly and so quickly, but the way her eyes cast over my outfit, critically and with no shame, has me straightening my spine. Her eyes flick up to my face and then drop to the hand that is still wrapped around Reed’s arm as they reach us.

“Walker.”

Graham holds out a hand and Reed shakes it, the two of them displaying the expected politeness as he greets Graham back and gives him a charming smile. It’s his public smile. I’ve seen him smile a million times over the years when he’s visited Griffin. The smile he uses with friends is totally different from this. That smile reaches his eyes and has a certain peace and comfortableness held in it. This one is bright, but careful and perfectly measured.

It’s both a weapon and a shield.

“I believe you know my partner, Bea,” Graham says as she leans in, kissing Reed on both cheeks, the beads on her dress scraping against my arm as she closes in on him.

“Reed. What a wonderful surprise.”

“Bea,” Reed replies in a monotone voice as she pulls back and tinkles out a laugh.

“Oh, you. Always a man of so many words. And who is your friend?” She turns to me, a thin smile spreading over her lips.

“Don’t take it personally.” She lowers her voice to me before Reed has a chance to answer. I glance at him, and his jaw is set hard. “I’ve heard he has trouble with names if he doesn’t need to remember them the next day.”

Bitch.

She has no right. She doesn’t know him… not really. I mean, he’s Griffin’s best friend. And he’s my… well, he’s Reed.

I take a deep breath to compose myself as I plaster on a smile, running my spare hand up over Reed’s chest and wrapping myself against him.

“Oh, he won’t need to use my name tomorrow. Saturday is our special day together, isn’t it, Babe?” I press my hand flat against his chest and let out a breathy sigh before looking directly at Graham. “I like him to call me baby girl on Saturdays. It’s my daddy day.” I pout and then glance up at Reed, catching his darkened gaze boring into mine. “Oh, don’t look so worried. It’s hardly unusual. I’m sure Graham and Bea have special days in their home, too.”

“Our home?” Bea’s polite bitch mask has slipped, leaving her sour-faced as though she’s just been told being a witch went out of fashion decades ago.

She scowls at me as I continue to talk. “Oh, sorry. I just assumed. Silly me.” I roll my eyes with a giggle. “You two just look so wonderful together. I assumed it must be serious and you live together.”

Take that, bitch. I know how to hand out shit disguised as sugar.

“It is serious, very serious. But we haven’t found the right place yet. Everything in the city we’ve seen so far is too… ordinary.” Bea’s gaze drops over me again, one brow raised, and I know she’s trying to get a rise out of me. I smile sweetly at her instead and she looks back at Graham, who is running a hand around the back of his neck and looks like he might break out in a sweat any second. I almost feel sorry for him.

“Oh, well, how exciting when that day comes. Although I bet you’ll hardly get any unpacking done. There’s something so exciting about a new place together while there are boxes everywhere, isn’t there, Babe?” I rub my hand over Reed’s chest, noticing the way Bea’s eyes follow my movement.

“Yes. There is, isn’t there?” Her gaze turns cold as she looks back at my face with a smirk. “I remember that all too well after I moved in with Reed when we got engaged.”

My hand freezes for a micro-second before I continue stroking Reed’s chest. His heart is pounding.

“Well, you two beautiful lovebirds wouldn’t be here today if that had worked out, so…” I give her another sweet smile and then turn to Reed, widening my eyes as the band begins a new song.

“You know I love this one. Can we dance?”

“Of course.” Reed takes my hand in his as he nods goodbye.

“So nice to meet you both,” I call over my shoulder, wiggling my fingers in a small wave as Reed leads us to the dancefloor and then pulls me into his arms.

“What was that?” he hisses in my ear as we move to the music. It’s a slow song, so I wrap my arms around his neck as he rests his hands on my back.

“They’re looking this way. Put your hands lower.”

“What?” He leans back, but I grip him to me.

“Bea and Graham. She doesn’t look happy. Put your hands on the top of my ass,” I instruct.

“Harley, I—”

“Do it,” I whisper in his ear, feeling the low grumble from his throat as he slides his hands down and rests them on the curve of my lower back, his fingers lightly grazing the top of my butt cheeks. “Better,” I hum in his ear as we move to the music.

“So now, can you tell me what the hell that was all about?” His voice is low and gravelly against my ear as we move around the dance floor with the rest of the couples.

I shiver as his breath teases the side of my neck. “She was being rude about you.”

“So you thought you’d tell her I have a fetish for being called Daddy?” he growls as I fight to hold in my giggle.

“No. I told her I have a fetish about calling you Daddy, duh. Anyway, I was just doing what a real girlfriend would do.”

“Sharing our sex life with strangers?”

“No,” I groan, huffing out a breath. “Showing her I’m not affected by her whole ‘mean girl’ act.”

“By telling her about our sex life?”

“Our pretend sex life.” I pull back to look at his face. “Which is earth-shattering, by the way.”

The tiniest twitch of his lips draws my eye. “Of course it is.”

“Good.” I grin. “Glad we agree on something. You know, you’re going to have to get better at this whole pretend thing if you want people to believe we’re a real couple.” I wiggle my ass a little, encouraging his hands to slide lower so his fingertips are touching the fullest part of its curve.

“I don’t need to feel you up in public to look like a real couple,” Reed says, the heat from his body emanating into mine and drawing out a sense of calm from deep in my chest.

“Not all the time, but sometimes, you do.”

“Really?” Amusement laces his words, and his shoulders lose some of their tension beneath my arms.

“Really.” I reach one hand up and stroke the thick, silky hair at the base of his skull as we dance. “If you were my real boyfriend, I would expect you to be fighting a constant battle with yourself not to touch me all the time.”

“Is that so?” His deep voice rumbles against my neck where he leans close again, while he flexes his fingers against my ass.

The sensation makes my breath hitch in my throat for a split second, catching me off guard.

Weird.

“It is so.” I press my body into his, relishing in its solid warmth. “See, we should be close when we dance, like this. Close enough that people around us can feel the desire flowing from us in waves, taste the hunger in our breath as it mixes, and see the crackle in the air from the electricity our passion for one another creates.” My words tumble out as my excitement grows. “Basically, Reed, I would expect you to look at me as if you’re recalling the way I had just ridden your face before we left home… so hard that you’d had to breathe through your ears.”

He lets out a chuckle as I giggle and continue, lowering my voice and whispering in his ear so no one around us can hear.

“That would look real. Because if you’re going to be my boyfriend in public—because it’s not just me playing a role here—then I expect you to give it your all. I don’t want people looking at you all stiff and moody with your giant arms and thinking I’m this mean girlfriend that never lets you choose the channel and flushes the toilet when you’re in the shower.”

His chuckle morphs into a laugh. A rich, free one.

It’s a beautiful sound.

His chest shakes against me as we hold on to each other and dance.

“I’m a really nice girlfriend. I mean, I think I am. It’s been a while since anyone can corroborate. But I’d like to think that’s how we would look together if this was real, you know?” I lift my head from where I’ve rested it against his shoulder and look into his eyes with a questioning gaze.

“I think I can manage that. I don’t want people to think I have a girlfriend who threatens to use her teeny tiny scissors on my little branch.” His eyes are glittering and dark as he watches me, his lips curled into a breathtaking smile.

I drop my mouth open in protest. “I did not threaten. I merely explained their abilities. Although I’m not sure Bruce likes to share.”

“Neither do I,” he growls.

Something about his tone makes my stomach flutter.

“So who’s the prize bitch you were going to marry?” I ask, my hand still stroking the hair at the top of his neck. I’m doing it to look authentic and coupley. But it’s been there long enough to achieve that now, so I should move it.

I really should.

“I would never have married her.” He sighs, and his eyes shutter closed as I keep my fingers in his hair and trace my thumb around to his sideburns, stroking down the side of his face.

“I didn’t know you were engaged.”

“It was years ago, and it only lasted a few months.” He opens his eyes and looks at me, and I’m struck by a flash of pain in them before he blinks it away. “She was what I thought I needed at the time.”

A trace of the shield I saw earlier crosses his face.

“You were hurt,” I state softly.

His eyes pinch and he stiffens in my arms for a second before Tom Coulter appears dancing next to us with Margo in his arms.

“Do you mind if we cut in?” Tom smiles.

“Of course not.” Reed lets me go and graciously offers his hand to Margo, who beams at him. He gives her a charming smile and says something quietly to her, which has her laughing.

“He’s a fine man,” Tom says to me as I take his hand, and we dance away in the opposite direction.

I smile as I look over to where Reed is. He spins Margo out and back in again, the smile on her face bright and infectious.

“I’ve known him a while, ever since he started volunteering on some community projects supporting mental health I’m involved with. Of course, that was a long time ago, back when his family lived nearby. I didn’t see so much of him when they all moved to California. Between you and me.” Tom leans in conspiratorially. “I’m hoping he wins.” He draws back again. “Partly because I know he will do a great service, but also for selfish reasons. If he stays, then I may be able to rope him into some more projects again.”

I laugh as I glance at Reed. Maybe he senses eyes on him because he looks in our direction at the same moment and smiles at me.

I mouth the word, Daddy, at him and he chuckles to himself.

Tom follows my gaze, looking between us. “But something tells me even if he doesn’t, he won’t be going far.”

I frown at him, puzzled. But he just smiles softly and continues to dance.

Two hours later, we walk through the front door, and I kick off my shoes in delight, slipping my feet into my slippers, which I left right by the front door prepped for my return.

“God, this is almost as good as an orgasm,” I moan as my feet are encased by warm, fluffy coziness.

“Then I think you’ve been doing it wrong,” Reed says as he closes the door behind us.

I reach out to swat him but miss, earning me a deep chuckle as he walks into the kitchen.

“What did Bea do wrong, then?” I ask as I plod behind him. “Apart from being a bitch. Is that why she’s called Bea? It’s really just a B for Big Bitch Badge?”

I was itching to ask him in the car on the way home, but he was telling me Margo’s latest confessions about Tom’s filming bloopers, and he looked so light and happy as he regaled me that I didn’t want to interrupt and put a damper on things.

Reed grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and hands one to me.

“Like I said. She was what I thought I needed at the time.” He avoids my gaze, instead tipping his head back and devouring half the bottle down his muscular neck in one long glug.

I twist the cap on my bottle, but it doesn’t budge. Reed reaches over, opens it with one easy twist, and hands it back to me.

“Thanks. So, back to Bea,” I say before taking a sip.

“That’s all there is to it. It’s in the past. Where things from the past should stay.”

He finishes his drink and then drops the empty bottle into the recycling can.

“Okay.” I sip my drink again as he loosens off his bowtie and then runs a hand around his jaw with a deep sigh. I know he was up at the crack of dawn this morning. I heard him leave before my alarm even went off.

He looks exhausted.

“Are you heading to bed now?”

“Yeah.” He presses his thumb and finger into his eyes and rubs. “I told Griffin I would run early with him in the morning.”

“What an incredibly hellish way to start the weekend.” I snort. “Think of me while you run, curled up in my warm, incredibly comfy bed, won’t you?”

He smirks and shakes his head before heading to his room.

“You didn’t answer… Daddy,” I call after him, holding back my laugh.

“I promise to think of what you’re doing in bed, home alone without me, Baby Girl,” he calls back.

Our chuckles mix together in the air, echoing all the way from the kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom before the door closes softly.

I stay in the kitchen to finish my water as I process the evening’s events.

It’s in the past. Where things from the past should stay.

I doubt he would still say that if he knew about my past. Some things should be shouted and screamed about, not left in the past to be forgotten. Unpaid for. Not that there’s any price that could ever be great enough for some sins. Some things only a time machine can fix.

I look at Reed’s closed door as I head to bed, my steps slowing as I fight the strange urge to knock on it and see if he’s still awake. I know I didn’t imagine the flash of hurt in his eyes when I asked about Bea. She may be a bitch now, but maybe she wasn’t always. Maybe once she was someone incredibly special to Reed. I mean, he was going to marry her. He must have loved her.

She must have meant a lot to him.

My stomach twists as I contemplate his words. She was what I thought I needed at the time. Maybe he thought so much of her that it still hurts to see her. Especially with someone like Graham Hutchings, who I know is shadier than an artist’s pencil collection. He hasn’t gotten to where he is through hard work alone, if the rumors are anything to go by.

It makes sense why Reed has only had brief flings since. And why Maria said the women she saw leaving his apartment were always blonde. Bea is striking in her beauty; dark, sharp, intense features. Hypnotic almost. The polar opposite of what Reed goes for. That’s what some people do, isn’t it? When they’re trying to get over someone. They throw themselves into forgetting. Hiding their grief behind nameless hookups. Looking for a complete physical contrast of what they lost if it’s still too painful to be reminded of that person.

A sickening ball rolls around the pit of my stomach as I wash my face, put my pajamas on and then climb into bed. I’ve figured it out. It’s obvious. The pain in his eyes when we were dancing. His reluctance to talk about it.

She hurt him.

He loved her.

Maybe he still does.