Make Mine A Heartbreaker Read online

  “Well, congratulations, you and your old friend Hannah are an engaged couple who let a little role playing get out of hand.”

  Nate stared, jaw tight, as Jack continued to speak with grand hand gestures. Curses. Why not just send him to celibacy lockup and throw away the key? Somehow they’d gone from bad press to him being magically engaged.

  He unclenched his jaw, his throat tight and dry as cotton. “I can’t believe we’re actually discussing this.”

  Jack shoved a piece paper in his hands. “This will be our press release in the morning.”

  Nate almost dropped the press release. If he didn’t know his eyesight was 20/20, he’d have claimed blurry vision. Hell, no. Printed in big, bold letters was the statement that warranted night terrors: Playboy Businessman of Chrome Motorcycles, Nate Fox, is Off the Market. Sorry, Ladies.

  “This was the best you could come up with, Jack. A fake engagement,” Nate said. “We could send her to a spa retreat until the deal is finalized. Women like spa days.”

  “We’ve known each other for more than a decade, and you always run from your problems. Like how you sent money to Montana.” Jack looked him square in the eyes. “You’ve got this. You’ll fix this. I have faith.”

  He swallowed. “She could decide to drop a kneecap to the family jewels this time, you know?”

  “The only thing you have to do is get her to agree to be your fake fiancée. It shouldn’t be hard. Women love you.” Jack paused to look him in the eyes. “I emailed you the address to Sunshine Rascals, where she works.”

  Nate balled the press release in his fists. “And if she says no, Jack. What’s your brilliant plan then?”

  His business partner laughed and gestured at the magazine. “Hell, it’s one week. Spin it as an adventure. Tell her you’ll take her out for coffee. Really, I don’t care what you say. But once you seal the deal all our dreams will become reality,” Jack said, shaking his head. “For me, it’s a vacation to Italy. I did this because I’m your friend—and also I couldn’t let the biggest deal of our lifetimes slip through our fingers due to a misunderstanding. Besides, she’s just some harmless peewee teacher. Trust me. It’ll be fine.”

  Nate glanced down at the crumpled press release in his hands and hoped to hell Sunshine Rascals required their teachers to wear a nun’s habit, otherwise, he could kiss his no-eye-fucking-the-kid-sister rule good-bye.

  Hannah scrubbed at the coffee stain on her left boob, exceptionally glad the school day had come to a close. Damn, she was a train wreck. All day she had to watch teachers and parents give her the stink eye over her new porn shop fandom. One stupid decision to send her ex-boyfriend a blow-up doll and look where it got her—she’d gone from perky daycare teacher to kinky bimbo in forty-eight hours flat. Adding to that big oops—the awkward moment this morning where her director had to give her a stern warning on character and appropriate conduct displayed by Sunshine Rascals preschool teachers. Heat raced across her cheeks at the uncomfortable memory. How had she gone from scorned woman to media sensation? Smut and vengeance did her in.

  Good grief.

  She knew Nate’s reputation hadn’t changed much since her eighteenth birthday when she said screw it to humiliation and kissed him in her mother’s backyard. He’d made it pretty darn apparent that she wasn’t his It girl. At the same rate, she could appreciate Nate for being real. He knew what he liked, and the kind of man he was, and never showed any qualms for being photographed with a new blond candy-of-the month dangling from his arm each week. And she couldn’t blame him. It seemed his life was in order, unlike hers. Well, if not being the perfect ten meant having a scumbag ex-boyfriend and a porn shop scandal, Hannah would take in a bunch of cats and pull the plug on dating life.

  She tossed the napkin in the trash can and plucked a coffee straw from a bin near an outdated microwave. No more Debbie Downer, and definitely no more reminiscing about Nate and those sexy, worn-in jeans—and yeah that white T-shirt clinging to his Thor look-a-like abs. Clearly, she needed a hobby; one that didn’t cause her to daydream about Nate-hotter-than-a jalapeno-pepper Fox.

  With a sigh, she grabbed her coffee mug and walked out of the breakroom. She paused outside her classroom to stare at the student artwork hung on the wall.

  Welcome to Preschool. You’re a disgrace to kiddie teachers statewide.

  Shaking off the heebie-jeebies, she went to grab the doorknob when she heard Nate’s all too familiar deep voice holler in her direction. “Hey, Hannah! I was hoping I’d catch you before you left work.”

  She looked up and met her naughty daydream in the eyes. To add insult to injury he held one hand over his crotch.

  She shrugged as if to say, Hey! You and your zipper have no worries. Then she turned back toward her classroom, ready to dodge inside and hope to hell Nate would leave.

  “Where are you going? We need to talk.”

  “No we don’t.” She tossed him a glare over her shoulder. “You said hi and I didn’t.”

  One corner of Mr. Pesky Biker’s mouth edged upward. “If you put it that way, I think you owe me a “hello, Nate,” wouldn’t you say?”

  She spun, finding herself caught in his prettiness. Like men weren’t supposed to outdo the girl in the looks department. Were they? With his Hollywood-heartthrob good looks, sugar-laced southern drawl, and tortured bad-boy image, Nate Fox could make any woman beg to be his nightly conquest, including her. He threw both arms out at his side, gave her a cocky wink, and proceeded to swagger down the hall toward her, where she discovered that her red Converse were superglued to the tile floor. She blinked, and an image flashed in her mind of Nate crushing their mouths together as he channeled an old, classic romance movie heel-popping kiss scene.

  “If you came to sue me for personal defamation, I think you should know I eat peanut butter from the jar with a spoon for dinner. I’m also in this fifteen-step program toward becoming a less problematic person. Luv Doodles is an amazing self-help author. He said I should own up to my mistakes.”

  “Yeah, well, out of respect for Doodles, I do believe you should know I think he’s a quack.” He smirked. “Are we better now? I showed my chivalrous side and stood up for your problematic side.”

  Hannah glared, feeling a bit pissy. “No. You leaked our run-in to garner press. Really, Nate,” she said.

  He gave her an odd look. “No, I didn’t. You can thank the porn shop arrest for those media mug shots.”

  “Fine.” She grumbled, feeling agitated by that news. “But my director did have a talk with me about character.” Hannah stared him down. “Did you know she thinks B.J. stands for Brice and Jones’s hardware store off Congress Avenue? I’m going to have to change zip codes after today. The parents weren’t too amused by my recent arrest, including a few teachers.”

  His rugged features transformed from shock to amusement then back into the friend zone. He offered her a smile that barely reached his eyes. “Well, I happen to think your director is lovely. We chatted about you just a few minutes ago. She’s happy you found someone so cute. There’s probably no need to worry about a meeting discussing what B and J stand for.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I went from being cheated on by my asshole boyfriend to being a tabloid sensation. Who gets arrested at a porn shop? No one does, Nate, but me.”

  “And me,” he said.

  “Why were you even at Frisky Business?” she asked. “Aren’t you like pre-marriage George Clooney to the business world?”

  His lips twisted. “I lost a poker game bet.”

  “Bummer.”

  That dang dimple she’d been intently watching twitch, and a traitorous thrill, made her pulse skip. “And you? It didn’t seem like porn shops were your natural habitat.”

  "All I wanted was a male blow-up doll so I could stick it to my cheating ex-boyfriend,” she said, practically tasting the embarrassing tint flushing her skin. “I’m past my humiliation. I’ve moved on.”

  Like to my dead-end job and being a guest
at the same wedding as my ex-boyfriend.

  Nate smiled. “Sounds like a great plan to me.”

  “You have no idea—wait?” Hannah regarded him curiously. “Good plan?”

  “Yep, no, scratch that, brilliant way to flip off an idiotic ex.”

  The muscles around his mouth tightened as he slid a glance down her body then back up to her face. Their gazes clicked. Crap-o-la, she’d forgotten how annoyingly sexy Nate could be. Looking at him from a different angle put a new perspective on his frustrating charm. Face to face was so much nicer.

  “Let me guess, the daycare requires all their employees to parade around in neon yellow Batman tees.”

  Hannah looked at her chest. The words “Always be yourself unless you can be Batman, then always be Batman” were printed beneath the huge wet circle on her left boob. “I happen to think my shirt rocks.”

  She heard Nate clear his throat. “Trust me, I do, too.”

  Note to self: Nate Fox likes your quirky graphic tees.

  Trying to ignore the hottie at twelve o’clock, she reached for her classroom door but stopped when she saw the nursery teacher gawking at her and Nate. She gave the other teacher across the hall a mind-your-own-beeswax nod, already hearing the lunchroom rumors buzzing in her ears. When it seemed the coast was clear and said nosey teacher stepped back inside her classroom, Hannah faced Nate.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Nate. I should get my classroom ready for tomorrow.” Her hip butted something hard, very sustainable indeed. Hannah spun around, mouth coming mere millimeters from the hot guy short-circuiting her brain cells. “You really should think about buying a size up in jeans, you know?”

  His grin widened, and before she could respond, he’d hooked an arm around her waist and tugged her into his side. “What do you know, Hannah, I do enjoy myself some glue sticks and construction paper. You lead the way and I’ll talk.”

  Nate ordered himself to keep his glances ponytail level as Hannah reached over the tiny desk to position a glue stick on top of a stenciled brown dog on a piece of construction paper for the kids to cutout. With her silky red hair and lightly freckled cheeks, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. If he was into relationships she could so be the one. But his father had managed to ruin his outlook on happily ever afters by cheating on his mother during her sickness. So settling down wasn’t in his near future, if ever.

  He snatched the safety scissors off his desk, and a sense of anxiety hit him harder than an uppercut to the jaw when he realized he was no better than that teenager who’d left the boys ranch almost a decade ago. Still stirring shit up, huh, man. And Hannah could be the best kind of trouble. There was a time in his life when he would’ve entertained such an escape, but he had to stay the course and not fantasize about her being anything more than a tempting Band-Aid to conceal his mistakes. He shook off that thought and began to massacre the puppy cutout.

  Hannah tilted her head back and licked her full lips once, twice, and it seemed that third time was just to hammer home how amazing she’d taste. Eventually he tore his gaze from hers, and she turned around to finish setting up the desks. He slid a glance down her body and swallowed thickly at the gorgeous sight in front of him. A dreamcatcher tattoo played peek-a-boo with a pair of low-slung jeans. Her T-shirt, although a few sizes too big, had managed to outline her curves perfectly. He wanted her to lean closer so he could gawk some more, and maybe strike up a conversation about her shirt long enough to keep those plump, kissable lips moving.

  Nope. Pull that head of yours out of the gutter. But she looked so darn cute in her worn-in graphic tee.

  Nate adjusted his long legs beneath the preschool table. “What happened the other day isn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

  She spun to face him and placed her hand over the scissors he was holding, and damn, did his jeans grow tight in an area they had no business shrinking. “I know. But did you know you just made a four-year-old extremely sad.”

  “Art wasn’t my strong suit,” he said.

  The corners of her heart-shaped mouth lifted. Enough to make him hope they were on friendly terms again. All things considered, she hadn’t kicked him out of the classroom, and that could be considered a step in the right direction.

  “Glad we both know you suck at crafts,” she said, her voice pitching on a flirty note. “Just out of curiosity, why are you here, Nate? Out of all the years we’ve known each other, including the seven years of silence, we never hung out together unless my brother was there. Besides yesterday, that is. You’re not here to sue me, or seek an apology. So what gives?”

  Clearly he didn’t think his plan through. He knew the facts, what had to happen, although he was clueless when it came to how he’d get Hannah on board with the relationship farce Jack cooked up.

  “I have a favor to ask.” He eyed his pathetic attempt at Pre-K artwork. “You might not like what I have to say, but I can assure you if I could change things I would.”

  “A favor, huh?” She opened a crayon box and dumped out the contents, then began to fill the plastic cups on the desk. “I won’t tell folks we did the deed to save your manhood. It’s not like we’re even friends anymore. You fell off the face of the earth. You stopped calling Graham and moved back to Texas.” Hannah eyed him with a slight arch to her brows. “It was a kiss, and I was drunk. I was a silly eighteen year old who threw herself at her brother’s twenty-one-year-old friend.” Her mouth formed a thin line. “Can we get over it, already?”

  It was more than a kiss to him, but he wouldn’t voice that and take them both down a path he couldn’t follow through with. Nate understood exactly what type of man he was to the core, the one you never brought home to Mom and declared “he’s the one.” No attachments were a necessity, and that’s why he stuck to one-night stands. He cared too much about Hannah to award her the usual notch on his bedpost.

  He stared at Hannah and found her watching him just as intently. He grumbled. “I’ll call a truce on the kiss. Okay? I’ll even throw in an extra incentive by calling myself a jackass for cutting you off these past seven years, if you’ll agree to help me out.”

  She rolled a purple crayon back and forth under her palm. “You have to tell me what you’re after if you want my answer.”

  He shrugged, reached inside his jacket, and tossed the press release Jack had given him face down on the desktop. “Hopefully this will make what I’m about to say a little bit easier to stomach.” Flipping it over, he tapped one finger at the headline. “This…this is what I need your help with. I might have told my business partner I’d go along with his plan to call you my fiancée.”

  She stared at him, both eyes widening in surprise. “I don’t remember you popping the question.”

  Nate went into panic mode when her mouth fell into a frown, and he tried to shuffle out of the desk. Instead, he toppled sideways, catching his chin on the wooden edge. “You did not see that.” He righted himself, shaking out his jaw. “Like really. I think if people found out I got stuck in a peewee desk it could do major damage to my reputation.”

  Hannah didn’t move, although he detected a faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

  He cleared his throat. “So that favor. What do you think?”

  “You want me to be your fake fiancée?” she asked, eyeing the press release. “No, this is crazy. We had a mishap that sort of spiraled out of control, but I think it should settle down soon.”

  “Hannah, there’s press on our mishap.”

  She squeezed the crayon between her fingers and groaned. “So you propose an engagement?”

  “Ever heard the word adventure?”

  Her upper lip twitched, and he couldn’t help but notice the cute little V pout. “Lying isn’t an adventure.”

  Nate coughed. “We aren’t lying. We’re just skating the truth for a week.”

  She lifted one hand to her ear. “Ding, ding, ding…you hear that?”

  “No.”

  “That’s C
razy Town accepting your new change of residency.”

  Nate knew he had two choices, the latter not being his favorite outcome: losing. He turned up the charm on his smile and looked her directly in the eyes. “We can be klutz’s together, and I promise to feed you better than jarred peanut butter for dinner,” he said. “Will you change your zip code to fake-it with me, Hannah?”

  Hannah’s gaze fixated on the press release. “Everyone knows I’m not your usual arm candy. Well, Business Weekly would claim any woman who reassembles a life-size Barbie could technically be called a Nate Fox CEO bunny. But that’s not me. I’m more of a Skipper, Barbie’s younger sister who no one really wanted to play with but kept around to keep the peace.”

  That quick-witted comment instantly gave him a hard-on. Shootin’ straight and narrow here, huh, buddy? She always did have a self-deprecating sense of humor that made her even more appealing to hang out with. Fuck him. He’d missed her company.

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Because we’re friends, I think you should know my zipper fly always saluted Skipper.”

  Her head fell back on her shoulders, and her hair swayed against her chin, and he had to reprimand himself to stop gawking as if he wanted her to warm his bed. “Your allegiance toward Barbie and her friends has just won you a brownie point. Give me your spiel as to why I should agree.”

  He smiled, even though she hadn’t agreed to be his future fake wife. “Okay.” He blew out a whistle. “The man I want to sign a business deal with isn’t too keen on my past indiscretions, porn shop incident included. So my partner told him you were my fiancée and we took our bedroom role-playing a little too far.”

  “That’s some scheme you two cooked up. Watching a little too much Jerry Springer?” Her lips curved into a barely suppressed smile. “I don’t know. I like you, we’re friends, but aren’t there other options. Better options.”

  His high hopes fumbled faster than a quarterback in the fourth quarter with two seconds left on the clock and sixty yards to the end zone. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want, just say you’ll play along for the next seven days. Until the ink has dried on the Urban deal.”