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&quot;I need a fake fiancée, and you need a plane. I&#039;m sure we can work something out.&quot;<br /> &quot;To be honest, I&#039;ll do anything to get home, so deal,&quot; Angel says. &quot;Wait! Not intercourse. Not that you want intercourse, but I&#039;ve never had intercourse before, so I&#039;m probably terrible at it and it would be great if someone would make me stop talking now.&quot;<br /> &quot;Intercourse will not be required,&quot; Logan confirms. A sliver of disappointment runs through her.<br /> &quot;Deal!&quot; Angel agrees, knowing she doesn&#039;t really have a choice.<br /> ————————<br /> Logan<br /> &quot;Don&#039;t kill me.&quot; I look up from the email I&#039;m reading on my phone as Kelly and I make our way to the airport. We&#039;ve been in LA for a week now, and I was ready to get out of here. Though it may not be all that terrible if I got stuck out here over the holidays. At least I wouldn&#039;t have to see my family. That would be a nice perk.<br /> &quot;What did you do?&quot; I know it can&#039;t be over the Canister deal. The three-day grace period to break the contract is over, and I made a killer deal on a shipping port.<br /> It was going to not only make me millions on my imports, but it was going to save me money as well. Land like that is hard to get out there. A decade ago, my family owned one there. Then my father went and sold it because he needed the money. In the long run, it only hurt the company. That was all my father seemed to do when it came to Duncan Imports and Exports.<br /> Under his reign of the company, he blew through a few billion dollars, taking the company to its knees about the same time I was graduating college. I stepped into a mess and started cleaning it up. It wasn&#039;t long before my father was off the board and I had taken his spot. My grandfather was on the committee and voted his own son out and me in.<br /> I&#039;ve turned things around not only because it is my job but because it&#039;s my family name. And to be totally honest, it was also a small screw you to my father as well. It&#039;s always nice to get a few in on that wanker.<br /> &quot;I can&#039;t do the holidays with you and your family.&quot;<br /> &quot;What?&quot; I pull at my tie I still have on. &quot;Why not? We&#039;re engaged.&quot;<br /> &quot;Tell them I&#039;m sick?&quot; Kelly suggests.<br /> &quot;They&#039;ll think you&#039;re knocked up,&quot; I say dryly. That would spread like wildfire.<br /> &quot;I&#039;ve met someone. I&#039;m sorry, Logan. It was fast, and well, I&#039;m pretty sure I&#039;m in love and hope that maybe one day soon she&#039;ll let me knock her up.&quot; I stare at Kelly waiting for her to laugh and tell me she&#039;s joking. But her laughter never comes. <br /> This whole fake engagement started when the board suggested I settle down to put some people at ease. Kelly actually made the suggestion. It worked out well. With her being into women, she could still date and no one would think she was out cheating on me. As for me, I didn&#039;t get to do anything. It wasn&#039;t only due to the whole engagement thing. I don&#039;t have the time or inclination to date for real.<br /> I drop my head back, closing my eyes. I can already see my mother trying to hook me up with someone. She is all about image. Not much matters to her other than that. She was pissed when I told her Kelly and I were engaged.<br /> Kelly didn&#039;t come from a rich family or bring any connections that my mom deemed as worthy to the table. That was another perk to being engaged to her. It made my mom mad. I&#039;d be lying if I said that didn&#039;t give me some sort of pleasure.<br /> &quot;I&#039;m going to miss you taking my mother on.&quot; I let out a long sigh. Kelly never let my mom get away with her backhanded compliments. She didn&#039;t outwardly call her out on them; she just tossed them right back at her, and Kelly&#039;s cut to the bone. It was entertaining to watch. &quot;I guess I&#039;m supposed to say congratulations,&quot; I grumble.<br /> &quot;Come on. We had to break up at some point. Everyone is already asking why we haven&#039;t gotten married yet.&quot; I don&#039;t say anything. There isn&#039;t anything to say. She found someone. I&#039;m happy for her. Kind of. Marriage and the whole kids thing looks miserable, if you ask me. My parents can&#039;t stand each other. Who would willingly sign up for a lifetime of that nonsense? Not me. No thanks.<br /> &quot;Would it be so bad for you to try to date? You might actually want to get married if you find the right person.&quot; I glare at her. &quot;I know we said marriage is for losers, but we might be wrong.&quot;<br /> &quot;There is something wrong with you. I can&#039;t believe those words came from your mouth.&quot;<br /> &quot;Yeah, I know. I think love makes you do and say crazy things.&quot; She lets out a small laugh before her face grows serious. &quot;All we do is work, Logan. From the moment we left college we&#039;ve had our feet on the pavement. I don&#039;t want my entire life to be work anymore.&quot;<br /> &quot;And look what we&#039;ve done.&quot; I hate change, and this has change written all over it.<br /> &quot;I really wish I could explain what I&#039;m feeling so you would understand, but I think this is one of those things you have to live and learn yourself to understand fully.&quot; She&#039;s drunk the Kool Aid, and I don&#039;t think there is saving Kelly at this point.<br /> We ride the rest of the way to the airport in silence. We both grab our bags and hurriedly make our way to the private entrance area knowing we need to get wheels up before the runways start to get any slicker than they already are. Kelly alerts them that we&#039;re here and to bring the plane around as we walk quickly.<br /> I lean up against the wall, playing with my phone as we wait. My eyes are drawn to a dark-haired girl that is pulling a piece of luggage coming our way. I stand up straighter as she starts to draw closer. Her head is down, and I will her to look up at me. Why? I have no clue. But I can&#039;t seem to stop myself from staring at her.<br /> For a brief moment I see her face. Full cheeks that are flushed with plump lips and a button nose. She&#039;s a tiny thing.<br /> &quot;You&#039;re staring.&quot; Kelly elbows me in the side. I keep right on staring, not wanting to look away from the young girl. When she drops her face into her hands and bursts into tears, I find myself moving. Kelly grabs my arm. &quot;What are you doing?&quot; I look from Kelly to the girl. What was I doing? &quot;Actually, never mind.&quot;<br /> She releases my arm before I can shake her off, and I continue on my path straight for the beautiful girl crying her heart out, knowing nothing could stop me. I am a sick wanker. She&#039;s crying her eyes out, and I&#039;m harder than I&#039;ve even been in my whole life.<br /> <br /> Angel<br /> &quot;Are you okay?&quot; I jerk my head up at the sound of someone talking. I look up at a man in a fancy suit towering over me. His dark green eyes stare down at me almost to the point of glaring. His hands are in his pockets.<br /> &quot;I&#039;ll be okay.&quot; I sniffle. He pulls out a handkerchief from the inside of his suit, handing it to me. &quot;Thanks.&quot; Of course one of the hottest men I&#039;ve ever seen in person is in front of me right now. I&#039;m sure I look like a hot mess. This day is getting worse by the second.<br /> &quot;Are you waiting for your plane?&quot; the man asks.<br /> I shake my head no. &quot;My flight was cancelled.&quot;<br /> He gives me a puzzled look. &quot;The private flights are still heading out for the next&quot;—the handsome man looks down at his watch—&quot;thirty minutes.&quot;<br /> I glance around the area I&#039;m sitting in. &quot;I was booked on a commercial flight.&quot; Clearly. I blow my nose into the soft napkin. I hear a soft laugh which draws my attention to the woman who is about ten feet behind the man in front of me. I&#039;m guessing it&#039;s his wife. She too is dressed in a suit. She&#039;s stunning. They make a beautiful couple.<br /> &quot;Where are you headed?&quot; he asks.<br /> &quot;I was hoping to get home.&quot; I notice the handkerchief he handed me has his initials embroidered into it. &quot;Oh my God! I&#039;m so sorry. I blew my nose in this.&quot; I bet it&#039;s one of those crazy expensive handkerchiefs that&#039;s a hundred dollars or something nuts for a small square of cloth.<br /> &quot;Is your boyfriend waiting at home for you?&quot;<br /> My eyes jerk back to him. Is he trying to see if I&#039;m single? All I can think about is that I&#039;m a freaking mess and that I&#039;ve ruined his handkerchief. Why is he asking me about a boyfriend when his wife is standing a few feet away? I shake my head no, but I have to admit that I&#039;m a little annoyed.<br /> &quot;Family.&quot;<br /> &quot;Where?&quot;<br /> &quot;Rocky Hill.&quot;<br /> &quot;What&#039;s your name?&quot;<br /> &quot;Angel.&quot;<br /> His eyes roam over me, and he smirks.<br /> &quot;Logan, our plane is ready,&quot; the woman behind him says.<br /> &quot;Give me your ID, Angel.&quot; He holds his hand out. I find myself digging for it in my purse. My Kindle and a few other things fall out onto the floor in the process. He bends down, picking them up. The screen of my Kindle comes on, and I watch his thumb slide over it to open it.<br /> &quot;Don&#039;t!&quot; I smack his hand, making him drop it. It hits the ground again. I cringe, hoping I didn&#039;t break it.<br /> He stares at me in shock for a moment. &quot;You hit me.&quot;<br /> The woman behind him lets out a small laugh.<br /> &quot;Oops?&quot; I say. I can&#039;t believe I hit him either, but a Kindle is private.<br /> &quot;I think you meant to say sorry, Angel. Now if you would give me your ID.&quot; I go back to finding it for him. I just tossed it into my bag after I got through security. This is what I get for not putting it back into its slot.<br /> &quot;Found it.&quot; I hold it up. &quot;Wait. Why do you want this?&quot; He snatches it out of my hand, taking it over to the woman at the counter. They share a few hushed words before he returns to me.<br /> &quot;I think it might be our lucky day. I can get you to Rocky Hill, and you can get me through the holidays.&quot; I furrow my eyebrows because I have no idea what he&#039;s talking about.<br /> &quot;What?&quot; I finally ask, confused. &quot;You&#039;ll get me home?&quot; That&#039;s the only part I really hear. I jump to my feet and throw myself at him. He catches me, taking a step back. I hug him tight.<br /> &quot;I said I can get you home, Angel. I didn&#039;t say I would.&quot; I release my hold on him. but I don&#039;t go anywhere. I realize my feet are dangling at least a foot off the ground. But he&#039;s not making any attempt to put me down. It&#039;s then I remember that his wife is standing behind us. Before I can say I&#039;m sorry, he starts talking.<br /> &quot;I need a fake fiancée, and you need a plane. I&#039;m sure we can work something out.&quot;<br /> &quot;We&#039;re good to go.&quot; The woman holds up my ID. Her eyes bounce between Logan and me. I think it&#039;s safe to say they aren&#039;t a thing because the man holding me is looking for a fiancé?<br /> &quot;Logan. This is not a good plan. You can&#039;t take this girl with you to your parents. They&#039;ll eat her alive. Look at her. She looks like she teaches the second grade.&quot;<br /> &quot;What&#039;s wrong with teaching the second grade?&quot;<br /> They both ignore me.<br /> &quot;It will work. All she has to do is agree, and she doesn&#039;t have much time.&quot; He lifts his eyebrows.<br /> &quot;To be honest, I&#039;ll do anything to get home, so deal,&quot; I say. &quot;Wait! Not intercourse. Not that you want intercourse, but I&#039;ve never done intercourse before so I&#039;m probably terrible at it and it would be great if someone would make me stop talking now.&quot;<br /> The woman bursts into laughter. Logan&#039;s hold on me only tightens at my admission.<br /> &quot;Intercourse will not be required,&quot; he confirms. A sliver of disappointment runs through me.<br /> &quot;We have to go now,&quot; the woman says through a laugh.<br /> &quot;Deal!&quot; I agree, knowing I don&#039;t really have a choice.<br /> &quot;We&#039;ll go over the details on the plane.&quot; Finally, he puts me back on my feet before grabbing my roller suitcase. I grab my big purse. I think this might be the luckiest thing that has ever happened to me. Logan snags me around the wrist and starts to pull me toward two double doors that lead onto the tarmac. I move along with him.<br /> It isn&#039;t until we&#039;re at the stairs of the plane that he finally releases his hold on me. He motions for me to walk in front of him. My eyes almost pop out of my head when I see how luxurious the inside of the plane is. I&#039;ve never even flown first class. Never mind in something so sleek and elegant as this.<br /> &quot;Good morning, Miss Meyer,&quot; the man says to me, giving me a bright smile. He looks to be a few years older than me.<br /> I read his name tag. &quot;Thank you, Cory.&quot; I glance around the plane, not sure where I should sit. It&#039;s not a normal floor plan. There is a sofa on one side. Another section has four chairs around a table. Then there are a few bigger chairs that look extra comfy. They remind me of my dad&#039;s recliner that my brother and I fight over at home. That&#039;s only when my dad isn&#039;t there because it&#039;s the best spot to watch TV. &quot;Can I sit anywhere, or are there assigned seats?&quot;<br /> &quot;Of course.&quot; He hands me a glass of champagne.<br /> &quot;Stop staring at her and let her sit,&quot; Logan barks from behind me. I almost spill my champagne.<br /> &quot;Sorry, sir.&quot; I rush to a seat, not wanting to get snipped at next. This Logan guy can&#039;t be all that bad if he&#039;s offering me a ride on his fancy plane, but then he also likes to issue orders. Such as demanding my ID, which I still need to get back.<br /> Logan takes the seat directly across from me. The woman walks past me, giving me a wink before snagging her own seat a few rows back. I take a drink of the bubbly goodness. The few times I&#039;ve had champagne I didn&#039;t care for it, but this is yummy. I set my drink down before going for my phone to text my brother Beau. I promised that I&#039;d give him my flight information. But I&#039;m unsure if this is what he had in mind.<br /> Me: You&#039;re never going to believe this!<br /> Beau:What did you step in?<br /> I snort a laugh. I do often find ways to step right into trouble. I give him a small rundown of what happened. Not a second after I send the text my phone is ringing. I answer it. It doesn&#039;t go unnoticed that Logan is staring at me.<br /> &quot;Facetime.&quot; Beau&#039;s voice fills the inside of the plane. I pull the phone away from my ear to see my brother&#039;s face on the screen. &quot;You got on a private plane with someone you don&#039;t know?&quot; Beau is trying to talk calmly, but I see the anger all over his face.<br /> &quot;Ahhh.&quot; Yeah, when he says it that way it sounds bad. &quot;Oops.&quot;<br /> Logan snatches my phone right out of my hand. &quot;I&#039;m not a stranger, I&#039;m her fiancé.&quot; I gasp.

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