Janie looked the guy dead in the eyes again and boom, her ovaries practically melted. The way those blue eyes looked at her? Lethal. The light shifted, and through the lust fug clouding her vision like fog, she changed her mind. They weren’t blue eyes. They were some sort of crazy, ocean full of sequins with blue curaçao punch mixed together eyes. And were they sparkling? Hells yes they were. It took everything she had not to melt into a blubbering mess, but she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to do that ever again, so she straightened. She could talk to men. She would talk to men. That was part of what she came here for.

“Boston, cute name. Not very Texan, but cute. What sort of dog is he?”

Gawd, that accent. What was it, Scottish? Did someone forget to tell McDashing that this was Thailand and not the set of Outlander? “A stupid one,” she said keeping her voice as steady as she could as she waited for the lust fog to lift. “Likes to chase mice down holes down at the tractor sheds and gets stuck with his ass waving in the air all the time.”

He chuckled, and those eyes were sparkling and they were looking at her like she was supposed to say something more. Like she should do something. Hell, those eyes almost wrapped her up and took her to bed. Girlfriend, you need to sit down a second. Guy could be a serial killer and you’re lust-whoring after his eyes and insisting he come to your room? Since when do you do that? Janie gave herself a little shake. She’d clearly only just gotten out of Little Acre in time before she lost all sense of reason. Putting a hand to her stomach, she tried to still what felt like a giant herd of Thai elephants rather than butterflies trampling through her intestines. What the heck was that? There were no feels to be felt here. She blinked hard to try and focus, and the lust fog finally lifted.

“Boston is a mongrel. Floppy thing, a bit like Ryan Gosling’s mutt. Not that you care about Ryan Gosling enough to know what his dog looks like. Or even know who Ryan Gosling is. Still, Boston’s mine and despite his stupidity I love him to bits. Saved him from getting himself shot.” Janie made herself shut up. Oversharing much? “Anyway. I’m Janie. My room is over there, I’m as normal as a steering wheel on a tractor, and you’re still dripping.” She pointed to his shirt.

He looked down and sighed. “So I am.” Unbuttoning the first couple of buttons, he pulled the shirt over his head to reveal an intricate tattoo that took up most of his left chest and shoulder. And also… Holy six-pack of heaven. Her fingers itched to touch it, to smooth the dampness away. The elephants in her stomach trumpeted their agreement.

Then he put his hand in his shorts pocket. “Och, damn and bollocks.”

“What?” Janie managed to get the words out past the saliva. Heck, at least she wasn’t openly drooling.

“My cell. It’s got your cocktail on it.”

"Sis, you didn't tell me your infamous roommate from college would be at your signing."

"I'm pretty sure I did. You just weren't listening."

He turned back to Adeline. "Tell me, Adie, have you been in any bar fights lately?"

Adeline gave Kinley a three-watt stare. A hundred-wattage one would have hurt. "You told him about that?" One sorority against another sorority. Adeline belonged to neither, but she somehow ended up blamed for the St. Patrick's Day brawl. Simply because she blurted to one posse of sorority sisters that they looked like a bunch of pink leprechauns. Which they did.

Of course, they'd assumed she was a member of the other sorority.

And then someone spilled a drink on one of the leprechauns. It may or may not have been Adeline.

Kinley cleared her throat. "I—”

"Red, didn't my little sister ever tell you she can't keep a secret?" Jack said, interrupting Kinley. "Hell, she can't keep her own secrets let alone someone else's. Just ask her husband."

Adeline twisted and used the pole to pull herself, hand-over-hand, into a standing position. "I go by Adie or Adeline. Not Red."

Kinley pulled out a chair. "Sit." She sounded as bossy as Charlie.

Adeline sat.

Kinley turned to her brother. "I've explained to Adeline that you are in need of a pretend fiancée."

Jack groaned. "Sis, I told you I can find one on my own."

“Why would you go looking for one when there’s a perfectly normal and nice woman sitting in front of you? Now, you two talk while I go see if there’s some ice in the kitchen.” Kinley took off leaving them alone.

Adeline eye-balled Jack.

Jack gave her a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t let my sister browbeat you into anything.” He pulled up a chair and sat in front of her. Adeline tried to control her breathing in an attempt to keep her breasts from heaving in a come-hither manner, but it was useless. Something about this man’s voice drove her to the brink.

His thumb lightly grazed over her cheek, before he gently touched her brow.

She winced.

"You're going to have a headache tomorrow," he said, his warm breath whispering against her temple.

She resisted an urge to trace her face where he'd touched. Was he trying to cast a spell on her? "With those powers of observation, your momma should have called you Einstein.”

He chuckled. "And the woman has a healthy helping of spice to go with her dollop of nice.” He held up two fingers. “Follow my fingers." He moved them from side to side.

Adeline followed, reminding herself she had goals. A distraction wasn’t on her laminated to-do list.

Jack made her follow his fingers three more times and then stopped. A pulse beat in his cheek as he stared intently into her eyes.

Was he going to kiss her? Was that a step in assessing head injuries these days? Adeline's tongue darted out to lick her lips. You know...just in case.

"You should never be a man’s pretend fiancée. Only his real fiancée," he said in a low whisper, before he sat back in his chair and broke off their gaze.