Falling For Her Fake Fiancé (The Beaumont Heirs 5) by Sarah M. Anderson Page B

out soon,” she promised, as if that was what their little chat had been about.
    Phillip smirked at the dodge. But he didn’t say anything else. He and Jo moved off to their own table.
    “Everything okay?” Ethan said. His arm was firmly back around her waist and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him.
    “Oh, sure.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. For someone who’d been playing a game calculated on public recognition, Frances suddenly felt overexposed.
    Ethan’s fingertips tightened against her side, pulling her closer against his chest. “Do you want to go?”
    “Yes.”
    Ethan let go of her long enough to fish several hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet, and then they were walking toward the front. He held her coat for her before he slid his own back on. Frances could feel the weight of Phillip’s gaze from all the way across the room.
    Why did she feel so...weird? It wasn’t what Phillip thought. She wasn’t being naive about this. She wasn’t betraying the family name—she was rescuing it, damn it. She was keeping her friends—and family—close and her enemies closer, by God. That’s all this was. There was nothing else to it.
    Except...except for the way Ethan wrapped his strong arm around her and hugged her close as they walked out of the restaurant and into the bitterly cold night air. As they walked from the not-crowded sidewalk to the nearly empty parking lot, where he had parked a sleek Jaguar, he held her tighter still. He opened her door for her and then started the car.
    But he didn’t press. He didn’t have to. All he did was reach over and take her hand in his.
    When they arrived at the hotel, Ethan gave the keys to the valet, who greeted them both by name. They walked into the lobby, and this time, she did rest her head on his shoulder.
    She shouldn’t feel weird, now that someone in the family was aware of her...independent interests. Especially since it was Phillip, the former playboy of the family. She didn’t need their approval, and she didn’t want it.
    But...she felt suddenly adrift. And what made it worse?
    Ethan could tell.
    They didn’t stop in the middle of the lobby and engage in heavy petting as planned. Instead, he walked her over to the elevator. While they waited, he lifted her chin with one gloved hand and kissed her.
    Damn him
, she thought even as she sighed into his arms. Damn Ethan all to hell for being exactly who he was—strong and tough and good at the game, but also honest and sincere and thoughtful.
    She did not believe in love. She struggled with believing in
like
. Infatuation, yes—she knew that existed. And lust. Those entanglements that burned hot and fast and then fizzled out.
    So no, this was not love. Not now, not ever. This was merely...fondness. She could be fond of Ethan, and he could return the sentiment. Perhaps they could even be friends. Wouldn’t that be novel, being friends with her soon-to-be-ex husband?
    The elevator doors pinged open, and he broke the kiss. “Shall we go up?” he whispered, his gaze never leaving hers as his fingers stroked her cheek. Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to make her think he could care for her?
    Why did he make her want to care for him?
    “Yes,” she said, her voice shaky. “Yes, let’s.”
    They stepped onto the elevator.
    The doors closed behind them.

Nine
    B efore she could sag back against the wall of the elevator, Ethan had folded her into his arms in what could only be described as a hug.
    She sank into his broad and warm and firm chest. When was the last time she’d been hugged? Not counting when she went to visit her mother. Men wanted many things from her—sex, notoriety, sex, a crack at the Beaumont fortune and, finally, sex. But never something as simple as a hug, especially one seemingly without conditions or expectations.
    “I’m fine,” she tried to say, but her words were muffled by all his muscles.
    His chest moved, as if he’d