“Seriously though?”
“I’m serious. Look, you know how this goes. We can do everything we can to keep the wedding private, but someone is going to get a shot somehow. I know I’m taking a risk, but I’d just as soon it be you who gets the inevitable shot, so let’s make sure of that.”
“You’re risking a lot to get me in there,” she said softly.
I didn’t say anything at first. Just kept my eyes on her. “I know.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Hey, as long as you are as sneaky as I know you can be, the picture won’t be traced to you or James or me. It will just seem like it came from some random guest. Hence, why we need to make sure there is no Jess Leighton at the wedding.”
She swiped her hand through the air as if she were wiping away her identity. “Jess Leighton won’t exist on Saturday.”
“You can get a fake ID then?” I asked, and I liked that Jess and I were a team now. We both needed each other. We’d come to a truce, and we each could help the other.
“I can get a fake ID, but my fake name is Fred. Is that going to be a problem?” she asked in mock seriousness.
“Maybe a little. Any chance you could be a Fredericka?” I suggested.
“I can totally pass for a Fredericka,” she said in some sort of random indistinct accent.
I laughed. “What the hell kind of attempt at an accent was that?”
She shrugged sheepishly. “Italian?”
I placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping her lightly and shaking my head. “No, that was not an Italian accent whatsoever,” I said to her in Italian, and she furrowed her brow. “But you are so fucking hot even when you try to put on a ridiculous accent that I still want to fuck you. Especially since you look even sexier with that red wig on.”
She tilted her head curiously, her fake hair moving perfectly in synch with her face. “You speak Italian too?”
I nodded. “I do.”
“What did you just say?”
“That I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”
“Who said I’m not mad at you?” she asked, shooting me a narrow stare.
“You’re here with me and we’re plotting to rappel Espionage Style into a wedding this weekend,” I said, naming the famous spy movie franchise. “I’m giving you something you need and you’re giving me something I need.”
She sliced a hand through the air. “And that’s all.”
I grabbed her hand, and kissed her palm. Cheesy, I know. I wasn’t above a cheesy move. “I’m sorry,” I said, again in Italian.
“How do you know so many languages?”
“My parents know Spanish. They both studied it in school. They spoke it at home so we could know another language early on. I was good at it. Picked up on it quickly. Matthew knows it too, so we all talked to each other in Spanish. When I was in secondary school, I spent a summer in Italy and learned Italian.”
“You picked it up in one summer?”
I nodded, proud of my accomplishments in this area. “You know how some people are crazy good at math? They just know how to do complex math from an early age or play piano really well from when they were younger?”
“Yes.”
“I’m like that with languages. Maybe it makes me a freak. But it’s just something I can do. I started teaching myself Asian languages when I was teenager and I refined that here in college.”
“That’s amazing,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess you’re more than just the Hot British Guy.”
I stroked my chin. “Tell me more about this Hot British Guy.”
She reached into her back pocket for her cell phone, swiped her thumb across the screen and showed me a text message from me. Labelled HBG.
“My text message name?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I grinned wildly. “I need you to know that I completely approve of that name. And now I need to give you a nickname. How about Hot American Girl?” I suggested but we both cringed at the same time.
“HAG,” she said, crinkling her nose.
“Sexy American Girl,” I offered, but then nixed it quickly too.
“SAG is bad.”
I snapped my fingers. “We have the same problem with Beautiful American Girl. Damn you hot American girl with the AG initials.”
She laughed and her lips curved up in the sexiest smile. I brushed the pad of my index finger against her lips. “Jess,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry I deceived you about the job, but all this?” I gestured from her to me and back as I looked in her eyes. They were big and round and looked so damn vulnerable as she nodded for me to keep going. “It’s all real. I think you’re hot and beautiful and sexy and funny and smart and it drives me absolutely crazy how you try so hard to dislike me.”
She rolled her eyes. “What if I’m not trying? What if I really do dislike you?” she tossed back, her eyes sparkling now, saying otherwise.
“Then stop me before I kiss you again,” I said bending my head to her neck to layer a soft kiss on her skin. But just as I was about to map her with my lips, she pressed her hands against my chest.
“William,” she said, her voice a warning. “I don’t want to be used.”
“How is it using you if I kiss you?”
“Weren’t you kind of using me before?”
“And we’re using each other now. But we’re also not using each other because we’re being open about it. Yes, I needed to understand how you did your job, and now you’re telling me and that’s helping me with the most important thing to me–potentially staying here. And now you’re using me and I’m helping you with information so you can possibly get the most important thing to you–money for med school. So we’re using each other to help the other person get what they most want.”