Temporary Wife (Episode 1) Read online

  Temporary

  Wife

  Episode One

  ROSSI ST. JAMES

  COPYRIGHT 2015 ROSSI ST JAMES

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  DEDICATION

  To fans of hopeless romantic comedies from the late nineties – this one’s for you!

  Rossi

  OTHER BOOKS BY ROSSI ST JAMES

  Biker Stepbrother 1

  Biker Stepbrother 2

  Biker Stepbrother 3

  CRAVED (By the Alpha Billionaire #1

  CLAIMED (By the Alpha Billionaire #2)

  CHERISHED (By the Alpha Billionaire #3)

  STEP SCANDAL 1, 2, 3

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  DESCRIPTION

  I’m flying home to bear witness to my best friend as he marries the love of his life.

  It should’ve been me. Instead, I’m standing next to his bride, whom I can’t stand, as an honorary bridesmaid as a favor to him.

  I’m a bundle of nerves on the plane, and the hot stranger sitting next to me is about to regret asking me what my problem is. I’m about to give him an earful; beginning with the first time I knew I loved Derek Saunders. I didn’t mean to start crying. I didn’t mean to make the guy feel bad for me. But for some strange reason, he takes pity on me.

  So he offers a solution. A proposal, if you will. He’ll be my fake husband. I’ll be his temporary wife.

  It’s the only way I’m going to get through this weekend, and so I say hell yes. But I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PREVIEW – CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE

  ONE

  You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.

  “Odessa, did you hear what I said?” my childhood best friend slash love-of-my-life, Derek Saunders, said from his side of the phone. “I’m getting married!”

  I fell back onto my sofa, my entire body limp as a noodle and my face tingling into a state of numbed shock. “T-to whom? Charlotte? But you guys just met, what, last summer?”

  “Yeah, but Dess, when you know, you know.” I could practically hear the smile in his voice. “I love her so much. You’re going to love her too. I just know it.”

  I neglected to tell him I’d done some good, old-fashioned social media stalking of Charlotte the moment he first told me he met the girl. She’d pretty much documented their entire first six months of dating one couple-selfie at a time. Derek looked stupid happy in each photo, his arm draped around Charlotte’s whittled waist like he was showing off some prized trophy. Her bleach-blonde hair damn near matched her perfect, toothy smile, and her sun-kissed skin played off Derek’s golfer’s tan like they were custom matched. They were fucking Barbie and Ken. Literally picture perfect.

  From my perch on the west coast and through the magic of Internet stalking, I watched as the way he dressed changed. The way he smiled changed. The way his hobbies and interests changed. And I hated her for it.

  He was supposed to be mine. I was supposed to be Odessa Saunders someday. We made a pact when we were both ten. If we weren’t married by thirty, we’d marry each other. But now we were only twenty-seven, and Derek was the epitome of anti-committal. I thought I had more time to make him realize that I was serious about our agreement. I hadn’t even bothered looking for someone to remotely want to settle down with because it was supposed to be Derek. It was always going to be him.

  “I can’t wait for you two to meet,” Derek said.

  I felt like I already knew her, at least in pictures. “Yeah, me too. She sounds really…special.”

  It was a lie. The only lie I’d ever told Derek in the history of our friendship. Except in 7th grade when Shayla McKinney passed me a love note to hand him after class and I “accidentally” stuck my used gum in it and threw it in the trash after the 5th period bell.

  I quietly cracked open my laptop while I still had him on the phone and pulled up her Instagram account. Sure enough, the newest photo was of her hand and the ridiculously huge diamond gracing her left ring finger. A half-full glass of champagne rested on a rustic coffee table behind it. The picture before that was of Derek down on one knee and Charlotte wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled big. They appeared to be surrounded by friends and family at what resembled his parents’ house, which was practically my second home growing up.

  My heart ached at the fact that he didn’t include me in his special moment. Sure he lived in Chicago, and I lived in L.A., but our friendship transcended time and distance. At least it did for me. I would’ve flown there in an instant had he asked me.

  I scrolled down after noticing a few more new pictures. The picture before the proposal was of the two of them standing in front of a pile of dirt with the caption, “BREAKING GROUND ON OUR DREAM HOME! CAN’T BELIEVE IT! THANKS, D!!!”

  Derek was an architect and the oldest son of a prominent home builder. I always secretly hoped he’d build us a dream home when we married someday. Now he was building Barbie her very own dream home, while I was stuck in an overpriced condo in West Hollywood all by my lonesome. Life was funny that way.

  “You guys set a date?” I asked him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “May 4th.”

  “May the fourth be with you,” I snickered. That was always our inside joke. Derek was obsessed with Star Wars growing up. Looking at him now, you’d never know that. “Charlotte a fan of Star Wars?”

  “She’s obsessed!” he laughed. “Probably more than I am.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible.” I tried to make light of the situation as my insides burned and bubbled and ached and the room began to spin. It was like that moment when you’re at the top of a hill on the world’s tallest roller coaster and everything’s freakishly still and quiet before the plunge that makes your stomach fly up into your throat. May was only four months away. I was going to be stuck on the top of that rollercoaster for four months. “That’s really soon, isn’t it? May fourth? Think you can plan a wedding in four months?”

  Derek laughed. “She’s in full wedding planning mode. Don’t worry. I kind of get the feeling she’s been planning this wedding since she was a little girl.”

  Oh. She was one of those.

  I made a mental note to stalk her Pinterest account later. Shameless, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  “Dess?” Derek asked. “Can I ask you something?”

  I waited with bated breath. Was he going to ask me if I thought they should wait longer? If I thought he was being a royal idiot? I’d say yes. Absolutely. Wait another year or two. Make sure she’s the one. Don’t rush this. You have plenty of time.

  “Of course.”

  “I really want you to stand up there with me,” he said. “On our wedding day.”

  “Oh, like an honorary groomsman?”

  “You’ll be a bridesmaid,
” he said. “Char’s very insistent that she wants a traditional wedding. She’s made room for you on her side. You’ll stand between her best friend and her cousin, that is, if you say yes.”

  How I wished, in that moment, he wasn’t asking me to stand up there. I’d have much rather concealed myself somewhere in the crowd and stared at the back of a creaking church pew while I staved off the self-pitying tears I knew would flow like a river as I watched them take their marriage vows.

  “Dess?” He must have sensed my apprehension. “It would mean the world to me. You’re still my best friend. And I’m going to be nervous. If I get cold feet or something, I want to be able to look over at you. Maybe, you know, you could make that face you always made when we were kids. When you scrunch your nose up like a bunny and cross your eyes.”

  I wanted to tell him if he was that nervous about marrying her, he shouldn’t be marrying her in the first place. But I bit my tongue. I had to be mature. I had to do the right thing. “Of course, Derek. I’ll be in your wedding.”

  He breathed a sigh through the phone. “Thanks. It really means a lot to me.”

  I thought about the last time we had a heart to heart. It was the summer he met Charlotte. I was going through a rough patch with work and he’d stayed up late talking to me on the phone for at least an hour every night for three weeks.

  And then he met her, and I got busy with work again. I never dreamed we’d drift apart. And I always thought I’d get a chance to tell him how I really felt about him. Missed the boat on that one.

  “We’ll need you here a few days before the wedding,” he said. “I’ll get all the details from Char and email you when I get to work on Monday. I don’t want you to waste too much of your vacation time on this thing, but if you could squeeze out an extra day for just you and me – for old time’s sake – that’d be cool. If not, I understand.”

  My heart fluttered and the corners of my mouth pulled upward. “Derek, absolutely. I’ll always make time for you.”

  TWO

  First class. Row 1. Seat D.

  I handed my boarding pass to the flight attendant and wheeled my bag down the jet bridge, greeted with stale airplane air the second I rounded the last corner.

  “Good morning!” an overly perky flight attendant said in a way that made me wonder if she overdosed on espresso before coming to work that day. “Welcome aboard! Welcome, welcome!”

  My seat was right behind her. I liked to be the first on and the first off. Strangers and crowds and travelers generally annoyed me, so the less time I had to spend with them, the better.

  I pushed past the attendant and shoved my bag into the overhead compartment. A traveler hiding behind a spread newspaper occupied my window seat. I double-checked. D1. That was me.

  “Excuse me,” I said, clearing my throat. “I believe you’re in my seat.”

  The paper fell down, revealing a man with dark hair, a navy blue suit, and eyes the color of pale smoke.

  “You mind trading me? I really like the window.” His lips twisted, revealing a matching pair of tragically sexy dimples that flanked a picture perfect smile.

  It took everything I had for the cordial smile to stay plastered on my face. I paid for a window seat. I chose a window seat. I was getting my damn window seat. He was officially a jackass for even asking me such a ludicrous question, but now I was going to look like an asshole if I said no.

  “I don’t know if the airline allows that,” I said. It was a weak argument, but maybe he wouldn’t protest it.

  “We’re in first class,” he said. “We can do whatever we want. What, are you afraid to go against the rules every once in a while?”

  I peered around the cabin, which was quickly filling up. I’d heard the flight attendants mention it being a full flight that day. I was going to be stuck for the next several hours next to the entitled jackass with the impossibly exotic eyes who was getting on the last of my already frazzled nerves.

  I slid into the aisle seat, his seat, and drew in a deep breath as I closed my eyes. I was a strong woman. I owned my own PR firm. I worked my way through college. I didn’t take shit from anyone. I had to let it roll off my back, however impossible it seemed in the moment.

  Besides, my mind was elsewhere anyway. By the time my flight landed that night, Derek and Charlotte were going to be pulling into O’Hare International airport, waiting to pick me up. We were supposed to get dinner that night so Charlotte and I could get to know each other, and I was going to have to pretend I didn’t know a damn thing about her.

  Remember, I told myself. You don’t know that she has two sisters, a pug named Chanel, or that she attended Kent State for Fashion Design. You don’t know that she gets a new gel manicure every week with cutesy designs on her pinkies and Instagrams it or that she takes time to post those insanely cliché quote pictures on her Facebook newsfeed every other day. You know nothing.

  “Ladies and gentleman, the crew has prepared the plane for take off…” the captain announced over the loudspeaker, instructing us to fasten our seatbelts and mentioning that it was going to be a balmy 72 degrees by the time we landed in Chi-Town.

  I pulled in a sharp breath and took out my phone, flipping through a few old pictures of Derek and me taken the last time he visited L.A. two years back. I switched my phone off and shoved it back in my purse. I couldn’t believe it’d been that long since I’d seen him in person last. Funny how the older I got, the faster time went.

  I crossed my arms and drummed my fingers against my elbows, my foot tapping nervously against the floor of the plane as we taxied to the runway.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those,” the stranger in my seat teased. “You forget to take your Xanax?”

  “I love flying,” I scoffed.

  “Right.”

  The plane came to a complete stop before jerking forward and going what felt like a million miles per hour until we were suddenly airborne. My stomach dipped as the wheels clunked under the body of the plane. Taking off was always my favorite part; a split second of danger on an otherwise boring plane ride.

  My ears popped, and I felt the need to remind him once more. “I love flying. I fly all the time.”

  I glanced over his shoulder, watching the city below us grow smaller and smaller until we rose above puffy, alabaster clouds.

  “You really want your window seat back?” he asked after I realized I was practically hanging over his lap to look outside.

  “If you’re offering,” I said with a hint of well-deserved snark.

  “As soon as the fasten seatbelt sign turns off, we can switch.”

  “Oh, so now you play by the rules?”

  “I play by my own rules,” he said, whipping out his paper and expanding it until I could no longer see his face.

  “Would you two like anything to drink?” the peppy flight attendant said, appearing out of nowhere. “We have complimentary champagne today for our first class travelers.”

  “Yes, please, thanks,” I said.

  The stranger shook his head ‘no’ and went back to reading his paper.

  “If you don’t want yours, I’ll take it,” I said.

  “And you still expect me to believe you love to fly.” He shook his head, his mouth curling into a half-smile that showcased his left dimple as he flipped the page of his paper.

  The attendant returned with a glass of bubbly, which I quickly sucked down before promptly ordering a stiff drink upon her return. I needed something a tad stronger. Thirty minutes later, the edge was fading and I was beginning to enjoy the quietude of the uneventful flight.

  But then the boredom set in. In my hurry to get to the airport, I’d neglected to bring my Kindle or the stack of magazines I’d sat out on the kitchen table the night before. With nothing to do, my gaze wandered over to my seatmate. In my frazzled state of annoyance, I’d failed to fully appreciate his dashing good-looks.

  THREE

  His hooded gray eyes and perfect, straight nose were like som
ething out of a men’s lifestyle magazine. The way his jaw clenched subtly as he read made me smile just a little. It was the kind of cute nuance that a wife or girlfriend would appreciate. Speaking of wives, I was sure he had one. My eye traveled down to his left hand, which was bare save for a bold-faced Cartier watch on his wrist.

  “You can stop staring anytime now.”

  My heart leapt into my throat with his words.

  “Sorry.” I faced the opposite direction and begged the red in my cheeks to fade as quickly as possible. The alcohol coursing through my veins helped numb the string of embarrassment just a tad, but it was still there. And we still had another seven hours to go.

  I rotated to my left hip, facing the aisle and waiting for the awkward moment we shared to dissipate into thin air, but it never happened. The crinkling of his paper drew my attention in his direction, and when I looked over my shoulder, I found him staring at me.

  “You want to switch seats now?” He pointed up to the unlit seatbelt sign.

  I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping into the aisle. He climbed out of our row, coming entirely too close to my person. My breasts practically grazed against his chest as we swapped places, and I could’ve sworn I saw the hint of a smirk on his full mouth.

  I fell into my window seat, clipping the seatbelt around me and leaning my head against the cool glass as we soared above the clouds. “Thank you.”

  He said nothing. I turned to my side. He was gone. Must’ve gone to the lavatory?

  He returned a few minutes later with a couple of blankets and pillows. “Here. Grabbed us some of these.”