Sutton stopped walking and placed a hand on Reeve’s arm. “You remember what I wore?”
“You’re gorgeous. You cast me in a movie. Yes, I remember.”
Sutton pressed her teeth against her lower lip for just a second, fighting to ignore the feeling that swept through her. As if he’d tapped into something with his remark.
“So we went out the next night,” she said, continuing the fable of their love affair.
“To Italian,” he added. “Because that’s my favorite. What’s your favorite food?”
“Fish and chips.”
“Funny, doesn’t show.” He eyed her from head to toe.
“I walk my dog an hour a day.”
“That’s one lucky dog.”
“He deserves only the best. I need to buy him a new jacket though. It’s getting colder,” she said, remembering how The Artful Dodger had shivered on their morning power-walk in Central Park. Poor little love. Last year’s fleece jacket was a bit worn. He needed a new one very soon. “I also do yoga and pilates.”
“Of course. What’s your favorite book? Wait. It has to be Oliver Twist. Because of your dog.”
She flashed him another grin, impressed that he’d connected the dots between her dog’s name and the fictional character he was named for. “You are a bright one.”
“Well, I’d be an idiot if I hadn’t figured that out. Is he a pickpocket, your dog?”
“Nope. Trained him out of it. Your favorite book?”
“Toss up between Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or The Great Gatsby.”
“Favorite movie?”
“Anything you’ve cast,” he said with a wink.
“Oh, we are a perfect pair. That’s my favorite movie too.”
“Okay, when are we moving in together?”
“After the wedding. I have to protect my virtue, of course.”
“Right. Virtue. On the subject of virtue, what’s your favorite position?” Reeve asked as they walked past high-heeled shoes.
Sutton stopped. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I’m not buying the protecting-the-virtue thing. I doubt they will either. So, what is it?”
“I highly doubt that will come up at dinner. Besides, our deal was for pretend. So I don’t think we need to go there.”
“No. We don’t need to go there. But yet, that Janelle…” he let his voice trail off.
“What do you mean? That Janelle?”
“I don’t know, but her little casting couch comment made me think she’s not quite as conservative as she pretends to be.”
“And because of that we need to prepare a briefing doc on our fictional sex life?” She raised an eyebrow, daring him to keep going.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he swept a strand of her soft brown hair away from her ear, and asked in a low, sexy voice, “What could it hurt for me to know how you like it, Sutton?”
Oh, he was good. He was very, very good, because she felt that swooping feeling in her belly. But she wasn’t going to be rattled by it. She was going to play along too. Sutton took a step closer to Reeve, giving him a look as if he were a naughty boy. “Doggie style,” she whispered, then watched him closely. His chest rose and fell, and he pressed his lips together, as if he were trying to hold back a word, or maybe even a moan? Perhaps he was even picturing her naked on king-size bed, on all fours as he trailed a hand down her back. Good. They’d be all the more believable then as a couple. “What’s yours, Reeve?”
He locked eyes with her and she felt goosebumps on her arms. Then, he dipped in closer, his mouth inches away. “The one you like best. That’s my favorite. My favorite thing is making you feel good.”
She drew in a sharp breath, then clamped her lips closed. But it was too late. A fuse had lit inside her. Deep in her belly, sending heat throughout her body, sending warmth to between her legs. Then she reminded herself—he was an actor, he was playing the role she’d cast him in, and he was going to win an award, because the way he’d said making you feel good seemed so true and authentic. As if he meant it. As if Reeve really had made her feel all those things in the bedroom.
“We better get moving.” She led him to the men’s section, choosing several high-end dress shirts for him, sharp pants, and a few neat ties. She was grateful to segue away from the sex talk and onto the safer terrain of wardrobe.
“This shirt is perfect for your eyes.” She held a green button-down against him.
“I feel like Julia Roberts,” he joked.
“Cue the shopping scene montage.” This was better, she thought. Keep it light, keep it simple.
“May I help you with that?”
The question came from a dressing room attendant. Reeve nodded, and the cute, perky gal took the potential purchases and showed him a dressing room. Sutton sat on the leather couch in the nearby waiting area and took out her phone. She fired off a few quick replies to agents asking questions about tomorrow’s plastic surgeon audition—Were there pages? Yes, already attached. How should the actors dress? In scrubs. Clean shaven look or stubble? Stubble, but of course—all the while picturing Reeve pulling off his tee-shirt, standing there alone in the dressing room, shirtless, only jeans on.
Damn. He made it hard to concentrate. She took off her glasses and pressed on the bridge of her nose as if she could push away all the thoughts of him.