Accidentally Yours, Mr. Grumpy

The Practice

"So," Ava said, changing the subject. "The merger announcement. What's the plan?"

Noah finally looked up. "Tomorrow morning, we attend a press conference. We announce our marriage—'a whirlwind romance,' 'swept off our feet,' all the usual clichés. We answer questions. We smile. We look in love."

"And tonight?"

"Tonight, we practice."

"Practice what?"

Noah stood, moving toward her with the predatory grace of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. He stopped inches away, close enough that she could smell his cologne, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

"We practice looking like a couple in love," he said softly. "Starting with this."

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek with a gentleness that completely contradicted everything she knew about him. His thumb traced her jawline, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"You're tense," he murmured.

"You're touching me."

"I'm supposed to touch you. I'm your husband."

"Stop saying that."

"Get used to it." His other hand settled on her waist, pulling her closer. "Relax, Ava. I'm not going to bite."

"That's not what I'm afraid of."

His eyes darkened. "What are you afraid of?"

Ava swallowed. "That I'll forget this is fake."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. His thumb brushed her lower lip, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her. Really kiss her. Not for practice. Not for the cameras.

For real.

Then he stepped back, dropping his hands like she'd burned him. "That was adequate," he said, his voice rough. "We'll work on it."

"Work on it?" Ava's voice came out higher than she intended. "That was... that was..."

"Unconvincing?"

"Intense."

"Good. Intense sells." He turned back to his desk, dismissing her. "Dinner is at seven. Wear something appropriate. We have a reservation at Le Cirque."

And just like that, the moment was over. The walls were back up. Mr. Grumpy had returned.