From Fake to Forever (4 page)

“I don’t think so,” she said, taking out the copies of the shapes and colors lesson she had printed up.

He made himself comfortable by sitting on her desk—right on top of her shapes and colors lesson. She was forced to look up, surprised she wasn’t hit hard with the scent of some expensive cologne or aftershave. Instead, he smelled like soap—and man. Oh, dear. She felt her resistance slip a notch.

He leaned in closer. “Why not? You can never have too many friends. And I’ve been told I’m a very good friend.”

“I’m sure you do very well with friends, but no, thank you. Besides,
friend
, you’ll be out of here in a few days anyhow. I suggest you make the most of your research and don’t waste it trying to cozy up to me.”

His grin fell as he sat back. “Okay, I guess I should just be grateful enough you’re allowing me to do this in the first place.”

“You didn’t give me much choice.”

He slid off her desk and shrugged. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Wait,” she called when he walked toward the door. “One more thing. It seems your, ah, charms have temporarily blinded my sister and staff. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t encourage their attention.”

Amusement shot to those gray-green eyes of his. “Why? Are you jealous?”

Her mouth fell open. “No, of course not. I—I just don’t want it affecting their teaching. Look, when you’re here, I want you concentrating on your research. When you go back to California or New York or wherever you have your multimillion-dollar house, you can start adding women to your personal harem again.”

He nodded, rubbing his chin. “I did notice how your sister looked at me yesterday. You’d be surprised how often that happens.”

She responded with a heavy helping of sarcasm. “A movie star attracting women? Wow, that is surprising. Oh, please do tell, because that is the most fascinating piece of information I’ve heard in…oh, I don’t know how long.”

He chuckled. “I guess it is a pretty standard response.”

“Well, don’t count me in those generalizations.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t help but notice that, too.” His voice was easy, but he regarded her with such intent she thought he’d leave a burned eyeball imprint on her face. “So, what, you have something against men or just celebrities in general?”

“I don’t have anything against men or celebrities. In general,” she added.

“Ah, so it’s just
me
. You know you’re doing one hell of a Lizzie Borden job on my ego.” But he laughed, which conveyed his ego was hardly suffering.

She knew he was just trying to charm her like he had her sister—more acting, she supposed—but she refused to fall into the trap. “I wouldn’t worry. From what I’ve heard about you, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of women willing to nurse your ego back to health.”

He waved a finger, making a tsk-tsk sound. “I’m getting the feeling you’re judging me again.”

“Am I wrong about the hordes of women waiting for you?”

He frowned. “What’s your definition of hordes?”

“Oh, never mind,” she huffed out. “I doubt your kind has ever been in a monogamous relationship longer than twenty-four hours.”

“My
kind
? I can be a one-woman type of man as much as the next guy. And maybe someday I will.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I read it in the papers. In the meantime, try to control yourself and keep your hands off my staff.” She picked up a pen and proceeded to fill out her book order form.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. I’ll just apprise them of this new information.”

She felt a twinge of alarm creep up her back. “What new information?”

“I’ll inform the ladies that I’m exclusively yours for the time being.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What better way to keep the women at arm’s distance than by saying we’re already involved?”

“Why can’t you just tell them you’re working and can’t fool around on the job?”

A slow, lethal grin broke out. “Well, for one thing, I’d like very much to fool around, and two, as a celebrity, you turn down a woman and you’re automatically labeled as gay.”

“Are you for real?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes just filled with amusement.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” she cried. “A man can say no if he wants to. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Yes. Ridiculous, but true. Not that I’ve ever had to worry about those rumors before.” He grinned sheepishly. “I can’t seem to say no.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You’re an infant walking around in a man’s body. You know that, don’t you?”

“Have you been talking to my agent?”

Sandra had heard enough, and it hadn’t improved her opinion about him one bit. “Okay.” She dropped her pen and sighed. “That’s it. We’re going to establish some rules. Right here and right now. Got it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “When you’re here, you’re going to be a preschool teacher—nothing else. You’re not a movie star—you’re barely even a man as far as I’m concerned—you’re an employee. Which means I want you to do your share of the work with the children. Which means I want you to take what you’re doing here seriously and not just for some callous lark or Romeo escapade, which is what I’m sure you’re thinking this is. Which particularly means I don’t want you making any adoring googly eyes at me, my sister, or my staff.” She paused to take a breath, a little surprised at how tough she could make herself sound. “Understand?”

He stared at her a moment, unblinking and very still. Obviously her words cut deep and irritated him, but she couldn’t worry about his feelings. This was her livelihood they were talking about. From the mutinous look in his eyes, Sandra half expected him to walk out on her right then and there. But then his expression softened, his shoulders relaxed, and he slowly crossed his heart, giving her an almost-perfect Boy Scout grin. “I understand.”

Unfortunately, his words didn’t give her much comfort.

Chapter Three

Ben sat, observing the class from the back of the room where he thought he’d set himself up nicely—away from any actual contact with the kids. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work, he just needed to ease into the whole child-nurturing thing. A concept that still made him queasy.

“Class, this is…” Missy’s brows pulled together. When no other words followed, she sent him a helpless look.

He rolled his eyes inwardly at her obvious attempt to keep his name anonymous from a bunch of four-year-olds. “You can call me…Big Bens. Because of my big feet?” he added with a shrug.

The children laughed, and Missy seemed to love the idea. Score one for him.

“That’s so cute,” she gushed. “Okay, class, Big Bens here is going to be with us for a few days, so please treat him like you treat me, Miss Carol, and Miss Sandra. Okay?”

Ben leaned back as he watched tiny heads bob up and down. Oh, man. The whole scene was surreal, sitting in preschool like this. It was the first time in his whole life he’d even attended one. He was going to murder his agent if this turned out to be a waste of time. So far, it seemed okay, since the kids and Missy really liked him.

Take that, Miss Sandra!

Ben shifted on the miniature chair and tried to get more comfortable. He was surprised the tiny chair even held him, but then decided to stand so he wouldn’t sprain his buttocks—something he wouldn’t be surprised to hear Miss Sandra was hoping would happen. Sheesh. Talk about your heartless woman. He’d love to know what crawled up that beautiful backside and died.

Missy wrinkled her nose and smiled at one of the students. She was so perky and sweet she reminded him of Glinda the Good Witch from
The Wizard of Oz
—although the bubbliness was starting to grate on his nerves a tad. Sandra certainly wasn’t like her. He’d even doubt Sandra and Missy were related, except for the fact they were both very attractive blondes. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Missy’s face again, looking for the resemblance—the small, slightly turned-up nose, the perfect cheekbones, the cerulean-blue eyes. Oh, yeah, he thought. They were related. That gene pool was watertight—if you didn’t count the personality part. So why couldn’t Sandra be as warm and personable as her sister?

Why did he even care?

Ben hated to admit it, but Sandra-don’t-call-me-Sandy was a bit of a challenge. He liked the keen intelligence that simmered behind her gaze, too. She had guts opening and then standing up for her business. Plus, since he’d become famous, he’d never come across a woman with the kind of Wonder Woman ability to resist him that she obviously possessed. It wasn’t like she was married or anything—not that that had stopped other women from trying in the past—but it certainly wasn’t a factor in her case. Her actions went beyond annoying. He wasn’t used to a woman treating him so…so…
normally
.

How could she not even comment on how he looked today? She had to have realized that he couldn’t have walked into an average barbershop and asked for the works. He’d had to do it all himself, which was no easy feat. Not that that cold-blooded and apparently blind woman had noticed.

“Big Bens, why don’t you lead us in circle time?” Missy asked.

Her words jolted him back to the present, and he squinted as if that would improve his hearing. “Circle…what?”

“Circle time.” She giggled. “It’s great fun. We all sit in a circle and sing songs.”

Oh, yes. That sounds like great fun. A real hoot. Thanks so much for including me.
Who did she think he was, Mr. Rogers? “Uh…maybe I should just continue to observe today.”

Missy’s mouth formed a little bow. “Oh. Maybe tomorrow then?”

No freakin’ way, sister.
“Absolutely.”

Dear Lord, he was calling his agent as soon as he got back to his apartment. Denise hadn’t mentioned anything about belting out “Old MacDonald” for this gig.

Missy seemed appeased and resumed looking through her collection of CDs. He sat back down, casting a glance at Sandra’s little girl, Hannah, who had turned around at Missy’s question.

Talk about an adorable kid. Again that gene pool working its one-of-a-kind magic. The kid was already a real heartbreaker. In fact, if Sandra wanted to—which he highly doubted, since it would be his idea—he could get her daughter some small acting parts. They’d probably make some decent money, too. What person with a heart would be able to resist an angel face like hers?

Ben could still feel the child’s gaze on him, so he looked back at her and smiled. She didn’t smile back. Hannah just continued to stare at him with marked disappointment in those big four-year-old eyes. Oh, man. She looked as though she was silently reprimanding him for not doing circle time.

Figures.
He huffed out a breath. Sandra was doing one major job on that kid. It seemed as if Hannah was picking things up rather fast, since she had the judgmental attitude of her mother down pat.

Okay, kid. You win. I promise I’ll sing my little heart out tomorrow.

The girl blinked and still met him with a disapproving stare. She evidently didn’t understand the gigantic mental victory she had just won over him.

“Um, ’cuse me. I have something to tell you,” she said.

Ben sighed and prepared himself for a lecture. “Oh, yeah, what?”

“Bug.”

“Bug?”
That’s it?
He almost laughed. “Where’s a bug?”

She smiled and pointed. “Over there.”

Ben stood up and walked over to the windows, grabbing the attention of Missy and the rest of the class. His eyes swept around the floor a few seconds, and then he finally saw it. Holy crap, how could he not? That thing was huge.

“What’s the matter, Big Bens?” he heard Missy ask.

“Nothing.”
Gargantuan spider, actually.
But he didn’t want to announce that in case there were any squeamish kids in the room.

It was one mother of an ugly insect and—now that it began to move—remarkably fast for possessing those thick little legs. Being the he-man he was, he wasn’t about to let it get away so it could boast to all its hairy little friends. So he grabbed a heavy dictionary off the shelf, aimed, and then let the book drop.

“Got it!” he called out.

The children shrieked. His head whipped up and around, trying to sort through the sudden mayhem. He’d had absolutely no idea ten little preschoolers had the ability to create enough noise to blow out an eardrum, but at that precise moment there was enough sound to fill a stadium. But even among the loud chatter, he heard some of the kids cry out, “Herbie!”

Herbie?

That thing had a name?

Ben’s eyes shot to Missy for an explanation, but she just stood there like a corpse with wide eyes bulging out and a hand raised to her mouth.
Oh-kay.
He obviously wasn’t going to get any support in that corner. He was officially on his own.

Great. Now what? He was going to make things much worse if he picked up the book and allowed the class to see the smeared-up guts of Herbie, so he simply froze, wishing for some big hook to come and yank him away.

Then his wish was granted.

Sandra, aka big hook, appeared at the door of the classroom with her no-nonsense line of attack that stomped out all the commotion around them. Oh, man. She was not looking happy with him, either—not that he’d seen her looking any other way. More bad timing on his part. She had a way of popping in on him when he wasn’t exactly his best. Too bad he couldn’t have screenwriters helping him out with choice lines in real life, because he could sure use a witty one now. Coming up with nothing on his own, he hiked his shoulders up at her, hoping she’d take it as a white flag being waved. However, Sandra didn’t seem ready to declare peace.

“Ah, Mr. Ben, a word, please?”

Uh-oh. This was bad. She was giving him an even more snotty tone than she had first used on him. He had to be more careful with what he wished for in the future. No more big hooks. Next time, he’d be much more specific and wish for a scantily clad woman with more than a significant amount of appreciation for movie stars. But one who still looked exactly like Sandra.

Where did that thought come from?

Sandra turned and disappeared, not waiting for his response. He supposed she thought it was automatic, a given that he’d ask how high when she said jump. But he followed her out anyway. Even the wrath of Miss Sandra was better than staring into the shocked little faces of those poor kids. He obviously needed more child training than he thought.

Once they were out in the hallway, he quickly tried to make amends. “Okay, maybe I didn’t use good judgment in that particular circumstance. But I—”

“Our theme this month is
bugs
,” Sandra informed him, pointing to the countless decorations of various bugs throughout the hall. “Are you blind or something?”

Ben took in his surroundings and blinked, strangely noticing them for the very first time. Hmm.
Well, what do you know about that?
“Uh…no, I saw your little bug things hanging around.”

“Right.” She shot him a withering glare before entering her office.

He followed her in, running a hand over the top of his head. “Okay, I didn’t know. But I didn’t commit a felony, either. Like you never killed a bug before.”

“Never in front of the children.”

“What are you, some kind of tree hugger? Did you see that thing? It was a gross-looking spider.”

She whirled around to face him. “Yes, I know! Herbie, that gross-looking spider as you call it, is dead thanks to you.”

“Now, how was I supposed to know you had some kind of freaky school mascot?” he shot back. “What kind of place are you running here, anyway? Your daughter told me there was a bug. I saw it, the thing was scary and hairy, and I reacted. As an actor, I’m used to going with my emotions.”

Her arms folded tighter than a bed waiting for basic-training inspection. Her sleeveless cream-colored turtleneck accentuated her tanned, beautifully sculpted arms, and as she cocked her head, studying him—no,
judging
—with eyes like two deadly blue arrows, he’d never seen anyone look as captivating or as alluring in his life. And as a man—not an actor—he wanted to react to that as well. But he held himself in check this time, knowing that would get him into even more hot water.

“You know, you’re absolutely right,” she said after a long minute. “We should be able to squash all things we come across in life that are hairy and scary.”

She turned toward her desk, but he grabbed hold of her arm and swung her back around so they were practically nose to nose.

“Do you mean me? That hairy comment better not be referring to me and how I looked the other day with my beard and mustache.” They were so close and… He tried not to inhale, but she smelled like heaven. Her scent was definitely fruity—peaches, to be exact, which happened to be his favorite. From this day forward.

“If the shoe fits…” She shrugged an elegant shoulder, pretending not to be as affected as he was by being so close, but he caught the breathlessness in her voice.

He released her and stepped back so he could clear his head of fruit and resist the urge to shake her senseless—or worse yet, kiss her senseless. What was it about her? He’d been around tons of beautiful women in his life—some even more beautiful than her—yet he’d never been this close to losing control before.

“Look, we tried.” Her tone softened. “I think this proves you shouldn’t be here. Why don’t you just read for research instead?”

His eyes narrowed. “I see what’s going on. This has nothing to do with Herbie, does it? I think you’re still mad at yourself for judging me based on my initial appearance, and you can’t handle that fact.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Prove it.”

“And how would you like me to do that?”

“By giving me another chance.”

She shook her head.

“Afraid?”

“Of
you
? Hardly.”

He finally smiled. “That’s not what you said yesterday. You said I scared you to death.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Stop twisting my words. Look, I don’t want you here anymore, okay? You’re a disruption to my school.”

He took a step closer, finally giving in to his desire to touch her by running a finger down her smooth, bare arm. “Maybe I’m a disruption to
you
.”

She jerked her arm away, but he noticed a slight flush on her cheeks. Not quite the reaction he’d expected. He half expected her to laugh right in his face—loudly and mockingly. Maybe even take another shot about how large his ego was. Instead, she remained silent and seemed visibly shaken.

Dumbfounded, he dropped his arm. So he
was
a disruption to her. He was going to have to consider that. Apparently, she was a real woman underneath that icy exterior and not as immune to him as he once thought. He’d also have to consider what exactly he wanted to do with that information.

Tucking all that info away in the back of his mind, he licked his lips and tried again. “Look, Sandra, let me go back in there. You’ll see. I can make it right.”
Somehow.

She gazed at him, her eyes no longer hard and accusing. “I don’t know.”

“Those kids like their Big Bens—or at least they did until I sent Herbie to spider heaven. Honest, I think I have a knack with them.”

“A knack, huh? Because you told them to call you Big Bens?”

“Right. On account of my big feet.” He leaned in and grinned. “You know what they say about men with big feet, don’t you?”

Her eyes widened. “Mr. Capshaw—”

“Small gloves,” he quickly finished, wiggling his fingers.

Her mouth shut at his poor attempt at a joke. But then he watched a slow smile escape.

Yes!
He did it. Finally. The ice princess smiled.

A small smile, but still by every definition a smile. It was the first time he’d seen her do anything like that since they’d met, and it blew his mind. He didn’t think such a simple, everyday occurrence like that would have such a heart-fibrillating effect on him—but it did.