Accidentally Married on Purpose (11 page)

Sherry reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Tyler lifted his head, and she squeezed his hand again before placing it back on the wheel. “That was unfair. I made a snap judgment before I even met you, and I said a lot of unforgiveable things. I was speaking from my own pain, and the sad part is that I thought I was being funny. Folks from small towns know how harmful gossip can be. I should’ve remembered that.”

A flash of emotion crossed her face. She’d been hurt before, and more than just some asshole breaking her heart. Protectiveness shot through him, stealing away his frustration, and leaving a subtle warmth in his chest. Sherry was a woman who straddled confidence and vulnerability, strength and sensitivity. It’d be easy to see the sass and sexy smirks and not delve any deeper. But he saw the cracks. Unraveling this woman’s secrets would take a lot longer than a month, but Tyler was up for the challenge.

“No need to apologize…” He paused as if he were deliberating. “Unless it’s for that last rule. Damn, girl, you sure know how to ruin a man’s plans.” He shot her a mock-glare and released a heavy sigh, feeling victorious when she laughed. “No lie, this is gonna be hard as hell. I want you bad, darlin’, and I didn’t get near my fill. But if
you
can hold out, I guess I can, too.”

Amusement sparked in her hazel eyes, and he sucked in a breath. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that playfulness.

“Oh, I think I can control myself,” she teased. “I’ll just imagine you dangling and then busting your ass at Cirque du Soleil, and my lust will be cured.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but I got it the second time, didn’t I? Not all of us were born to fly.”

She smiled, obviously pleased with the compliment, and they rode the next few minutes in comfortable silence. The north shore of the lake grew closer, and soon they exited the never-ending bridge. Tall green trees and New Orleans Saints billboards declaring “Bless You Boys” screamed that he was home. Tyler’s head fell back against the seat rest. Opelousas was a good drive up the road, near Cajun country, but people were people, and these people were his.

Rolling down the window, he breathed deep and exhaled the tension from his shoulders. This was what he needed to finish his album. Get back to his roots, away from the madness. Find what he’d been missing.

“I have a rule,” he said suddenly. Sherry looked over at him. “For the next month, we live in the moment. No talk of the future or expectations. No worries about what will happen next. Let’s just live day by day and try to enjoy it, okay?”

She smiled softly and nodded. “I like that one.”

They drove on for another minute, Tyler blatantly staring at the French-sounding names on buildings and the people in neighboring cars, snippets of potential lyrics already firing in his head. Digging in his back pocket, he grabbed his wallet and took out the pack of sticky notes he always kept inside. Inspiration flowing, he was a few lines in when Sherry suddenly pumped the break at a stop sign, causing his pen to scratch across the page.

“Crap! I was totally on autopilot.” She smacked her forehead and huffed a breath before asking him, “Where’s your hotel?”

Huh.
He’d thought that would’ve been obvious. But then again, he’d also thought he’d be getting lucky tonight.

“Maybe I’m wrong, sugar, but I was under the impression married couples lived together.” He watched realization dawn on her pretty face. “Don’t they?”

Chapter Eight

Moss-draped oaks hugged either side of Main Street, a normally welcome and calming sight after a long day of work. Today it just sent Sherry’s tummy into a free-fall. They were a block away from her street, her home where she’d be living with Tyler Blue,
alone
, just the two of them for the next month.

Shoot her now.

The fact that Angelle had moved out was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because at least she and Tyler wouldn’t have to be
on
, performing all the time. They’d get a small reprieve behind her closed front door to stop the fantasy. Remember reality. It was a curse because the
front
door wouldn’t be the only one she’d like to close behind them.

She already knew they had chemistry. Intense, set-your-sheets-on-fire chemistry, if her fuzzy-edged memories were any indication, which blew all previous sexual encounters out of the water. Her questionable ability to withstand a repeat performance was only one of the things locking her spine tight. The other was her house itself.

Sherry wasn’t a pauper, and she was proud of what she’d accomplished on her own. Unlike so many of her generation, there was no failure to launch with her. At least not financially—love was a whole other boat. But after graduating college, she’d immediately gotten her own place, a rent-to-own home that she loved to pieces and was proud to call hers.

When fancy, millionaire celebrities weren’t about to walk inside.

Had she loaded the dishwasher before she left? Remembered to pick up her dirty underwear from the bathroom floor? She’d been in such a hurry to leave, and a nervous wreck of a mess…and now, of course, she was worse.

Which was the only excuse she had for not realizing he’d be staying with her. It should’ve been a given. They’d established they were pretending this was real. A surefire clue their marriage was only for show would be him checking into a hotel. But for whatever reason, Sherry’s mind hadn’t gone there. And now here they were, turning onto her street, and Tyler Blue was about to walk into her house.

Her modest, old-style, southern house…that was probably the size of his kitchen.

Turning onto Maple Drive, Sherry glanced ahead to her driveway. It was clear, thank God. The last thing she needed right now was a well-meaning family member waiting in the wings, or another reporter chilling on her porch. She snuck a glance at Tyler’s face, wondering how her simple, down-to-earth neighborhood looked through his eyes.

A small smile curved his lips. “This reminds me of home.”

“Yeah?” He nodded as if he meant it, and Sherry swung her car into the driveway. As the engine idled, she fiddled with her seat belt, then said, “I mean, I know it’s not much. It’s only a rental, but…”

His hand closed around hers. “Sugar, it’s perfect. My parents’ place in Opelousas looks just like this. Just a lot older.” She lifted her head, and he gave her a reassuring smile. Searching his face, the skin around his eyes seemed smoother. Lines of tension she hadn’t realized had been there were now gone. Maybe he really did like it.

“When I got my first fat paycheck, I fixed up the place,” he said. “Got my parents a new roof and better plumbing, a garden for Mom, more tools for Dad. But the old bones are still the same, and that house will always be home.”

He glanced at the front porch and that beautiful, peaceful smile grew even wider.

Following his gaze, Sherry felt a surge of pride in her modest home. Hearing him talk, she got the impression he was close with his family. There seemed to be sadness there, but good memories, too.

Maybe helping Tyler reconnect with his past could be part of her mission this month.

“Well, all right then.” Anxiety melting away, she turned off the engine and placed a borrowed high heel onto the concrete. She couldn’t wait to kick the suckers off. She much preferred her boots or sneakers, but they hadn’t gone with this dress at all. She’d tried. Tugging on her hem, Sherry stretched out the kinks in her back, and then met Tyler back at her trunk.

Popping it open, she laughed at his one carry-on and guitar case. “I can’t imagine traveling so light. You should’ve seen what I lugged with me to Vegas. And that was only for a weekend.”

Granted, most of that was makeup and hair supplies, but still.
One
bag?

“Don’t get all impressed with me just yet,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got more crap coming.” He set his luggage on the ground and closed the lid of her trunk. A cool breeze blew her hair in front of her face, and Tyler tucked a strand behind her ear. The pads of his fingertips ghosted across her cheek as he said, “But I’m not here to inconvenience you. This is still your house. I’m simply a very grateful guest.”

A tingle built beneath her skin, and as she leaned into his touch, it shot across her scalp. They stood there staring at each other, him looking down, his hand on her face, and her chin lifted toward him. It’d be so easy to push onto her toes and press her lips against his. It didn’t even have to lead to anything. It could be a simple, friendly
nice to see you again
kiss, the kind she’d been too preoccupied—and annoyed—at the airport to give. Or an innocent brush of the lips to seal their new agreement.

But who was she trying to kid? She just wanted to kiss him. And it’d be wrong. A rule breaker. Technically, they were outside, and they
were
supposed to act hot for each other in public. But unfortunately, right now, they were very much alone.

Or are we…

A snap of a tree branch made Sherry jolt, and she twisted her head to look at the tall oak in her yard. Was the creeper back? A lump lodged in her throat, an icky feeling of being watched unaware stealing over her. Tyler cupped her elbow and growled under his breath.

“Cameras,” he whispered.

His focus was trained on a distance beyond her, away from the tree. Meaning there was more than one camera aimed at them. A muscle jumped along his jaw. Fighting the urge to turn around, she stilled in his arms and asked, “What do we do?”

He lowered his gaze, and a new emotion joined the desire in his eyes. She couldn’t name it, but the determined glint made her heart pound.

“Rule one.” A smile lifted his lips as he slid his arm around her back. Sherry’s breathing stuttered. This was what she wanted. For the world to believe they were in love. That he wanted her…though that part wasn’t a lie. So why was her heart beating so fast? Cradling her cheek, he threaded his fingers into her hair as his gaze fell to her mouth. “Definitely my favorite one.”

He brushed his nose across hers, and Tyler’s scent hit her senses. An arousing mix of soap, cinnamon-flavored gum, and sandalwood. Sherry inhaled deep, letting it fill her head.

A dozen snapshot memories of their night together played in quick succession in her mind. No clear image remained, only unmistakable
want
. His grip tightened, and as his eyes burned into her, his eyelids grew hooded. He was remembering, too.

“Tyler…” Sherry swallowed, not knowing how to finish her thought. But this felt like a pivotal moment. There’d be no turning back tomorrow. Pictures would be everywhere, confirming their story. Tyler lowered his chin, tugged her up against him, and crashed his firm, unyielding lips onto her own.

Moaning, Sherry went on tiptoe. She threw her arms around his neck and his hold shifted. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth. Gladly, she opened, wanting,
needing
more. She was intoxicated. Not on alcohol this time, but on him. His scent, his taste, the weight of him in her arms. Tyler Blue was hard muscle and velvet-soft touch, and his arms and chest engulfing her made her feel like a woman, feminine and wanted. His hands cradled her gently, and when he scooped her up, lifting her off her feet, the world dropped away.

Clicks and the murmur of voices brought her back to reality all too soon. Tyler must have heard the same because he slowed his kiss, fingertips now gliding in a circle over her skin. Instead of the frenzied hold of a minute before. When he opened his eyes and stared into her, nothing seemed more important than picking up where they’d left off, only inside and away from prying eyes. Which is exactly why they couldn’t.

Breathlessly, she told him, “I think we got our point across.”

His low, husky chuckle sent a fresh shiver down her spine. He set her back down and rested his forehead against hers. “I’d say so.” He brushed his lips against hers again. “You sure about that other rule?”

“No,” she admitted with a dazed shake of her head. “And that’s why we need it.”

Groaning, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before straightening to his full, towering height. “I foresee many cold showers in my future.”

Sherry put her fingers to her tingling mouth. “And I’ll be right behind you.” She lifted a shoulder. “But the way I see it, those are preferable to heartache.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line as he nodded and gripped his guitar case. Pulling out the handle of his luggage, he nodded toward the house. “Let’s see my new digs.”

Grateful he wasn’t pushing the situation, Sherry led the way, covertly glancing around her yard as they walked up the cracked concrete path. Was this what the next thirty days of her life would be like? People watching, capturing her boring-ass trek from the car on film? Videoing her slipper-clad hike to the mailbox?

What have I gotten myself into now?

On the porch, Tyler watched in amusement as she dug through her purse for her keys. She’d just dropped them inside, but the thing was a disaster as always. Eventually she found them underneath her hairbrush, and after fiddling with the lock until the stubborn thing turned, she threw open the door. “Home sweet home,” she announced.

Tyler set his bags down on the porch and stalked toward her with a devious smirk. “What are you doing?” she asked, backing away in confusion at the mischievous look in his eyes.

That bad-boy smirk transformed into one of his crooked grins. The kind that sold millions of records and sweet-talked girls into trouble. “Carrying you over the threshold.”