Falling For Her Fake Fiancé (The Beaumont Heirs 5) by Sarah M. Anderson

demonstrate to the world that the Beaumonts were behind the restructuring of the Beaumont Brewery. That would buy him plenty of goodwill at the Brewery.
    Yup.
It was a great plan. There was just one major catch.
    Frances leaned toward him and shrugged her jacket off. The sight of her bare shoulders hammered a spike of desire up his gut. He wasn’t used to this sort of craving. Even when he found a lady friend to keep him company during his brief stints in cities around the country, he didn’t usually succumb to this much
lust
.
    His previous relationships were founded on...well, on
not
lust. Companionship was a part of it, sure. The sex was a bonus, definitely. And the women he consorted with were certainly lovely.
    But the way he reacted to Frances? That was something else. Something different.
    Something that threatened to break free from him.
    Which was ridiculous. He was the boss. He was in control of this—all of this. The situation, his desires—
    Well, maybe not his desires, not when Frances leaned forward and looked up at him coyly through her lashes. It shouldn’t work, but it did.
    “Well, then. Shall we get started?”
    “Started?” But the word died on his lips when she reached across the table and ran her fingertips over his chin.
    “Started,” she agreed. She held out her hand, and he took it. He had no choice. “I happen to know a thing or two about creating a public sensation. We’re already off to a great start, what with the confrontation outside your office and now this very public dinner. Kiss my hand again.”
    He did as he was told, pressing her skin against his lips and getting a hint of expensive perfume and the underlying taste of Frances.
    He looked up to find her beaming at him, the megawatt smile probably visible from out on the sidewalk. But it wasn’t real. Even he could tell that.
    “So, kissing hands is on the table?” He didn’t move her hand far from his mouth. He didn’t want to.
    When had he lost his head this much? When had he been this swamped by raw, unadulterated want? He needed to get his head back out of his pants and focus. He had explicitly promised that he would not make sex a deal breaker. He needed to keep his word, or the deal would be done before it got started.
    “Oh, yes,” she purred. Then she flipped her hand over in his grip and traced his lower lip with her thumb. “I’d imagine that there are several things still on the table.”
    Such as?
His blood was beating a new, merciless rhythm in his veins, driving that spike of desire higher and higher until he was in actual pain. His mind helpfully supplied several vivid images that involved him, Frances and a table.
    He caught her thumb in his mouth and sucked on it, his tongue tracing the edge of her perfectly manicured nail. Her eyes widened with desire, her pupils dilating until he could barely see any of the blue-green color at all. He swore he could see her nipples tighten through the fabric of her dress. Oh, yeah—a table, a bed—any flat surface would do. It didn’t even have to be flat. Good sex could be had standing up.
    He let go of her thumb and kissed her hand again. “Do you want to get out of here?”
    “I’d like that,” she whispered back.
    It took a few minutes to settle the bill, during which every single look she shot him only made his blood pound that much harder. When had he been this overcome with lust? When had a simple business arrangement become an epic struggle?
    She stood, and he realized the dress was completely backless. The wide swath of smooth, creamy skin that was Frances’s back lay bare before him. His fingers itched to trace the muscles, to watch her body twitch under his touch.
    He didn’t want her to put her jacket back on and cover up that beautiful skin. And, thankfully, she didn’t. She waited for him to assist her with her chair and then said, “Will you carry my jacket for me?”
    “Of course.” He folded it over one arm and then offered his other to