I had the biggest teenage crush on my brother’s friend.
And now I wear his ring on my finger.
Sounds perfect, right?
Literally a dream come true.
Except this engagement isn’t real.
I used to tag along when my brother watched football, just so I could spend the entire game watching Brock instead. I wrote his name over and over again in my diary. I daydreamed about him in class.
Now, finally, I’m not just his friend’s little sister. I’m also his personal assistant and his fiancée–his fake fiancée, that is.
I mean, come on. Brock runs a billion-dollar company. He’s also heart-stoppingly, panty-meltingly gorgeous. Someone like him wouldn’t actually want to be with someone as ordinary as me.
Besides, my brother has warned me about Brock–repeatedly. He’s a heartbreaker. As much as I want to get between the sheets with him, I refuse to be just another notch on his bedpost.
He needs a date for a wedding. And I need help getting rid of my stalker ex. That’s all.
This engagement is just a practical, win-win solution to our problems. It’s as utilitarian as any one of those business deals Brock makes in his office every day.
Except there’s nothing business-like about the wicked glint in his gaze, or the hunger in his voice, or the way his hand lingers on my body whenever we touch . . .
I’m in trouble, I know. If I let Brock get any closer, I’m afraid he’ll break my heart. But I can’t help it; I can’t quench the fire inside me that burns for him.
I want this fake, accidental engagement to be real–as real as the diamond ring I’m wearing.