Fake Fiancée(33)

The game got off to a rocky start with Louisiana scoring before we had points on the board. I chewed on my thumbnail, caught up in the action, hoping Max came up with a big play soon. When the other team scored again, I watched him pace on the sidelines, his posture wired.

At halftime Mimi elbowed me in the ribs and nudged her head at the Jumbotron. I planted a smile on my face and waved. The camera swung away but not before I saw Bianca sitting a few rows back with her sorority sisters, glaring at me.

“Who’s the girl giving you the evil eye? She looks meaner than a striped snake,” Mimi murmured around the rim of her draft beer.

“Max’s ex. This was probably her seat last year.” I shot a look over my shoulder at her, a glittery pendant around her neck catching my eye. It was a star-studded number seventeen hanging from a gold chain. My teeth ground together.

Who did she think she was still wearing Max’s number? What about Felix?

The players headed back out from the locker rooms, and I grew nervous. My hands clenched around my Diet Coke as I tipped it up to take another sip. I chomped on the ice.

Mimi patted my knee that had been vibrating up and down. “Stop your worrying.”

I paused. I mean, yeah, I got into a game as much any true fan, but it was more than that. I was emotionally invested in Max.

Max jogged down to the field, heading for his coach. They talked heatedly for a few moments until Coach Williams threw his hands up as if he was done and Max stalked off.

My brow wrinkled. He’d been rather distant the past couple of days leading up to the home game, and I’d assumed it was stress—but this looked different.

Max ran over to a cameraman a few paces away. I took in his face, trying to get a read on him, but he looked almost serene, which was weird during a game.

He stalked over to the barrier that divided the stands from the field and jumped it. The fans went nuts as he brushed past them, some not even realizing it until he was down the aisle. The Jumbotron followed him.

“Good Lordy, what’s he doing?” Mimi asked, clutching at her chest.

“I don’t know,” I said rather weakly, taking the chance to study him the closer he came. He was beautiful, his shoulders impossibly broad. To add to the distraction, his helmet was off and all that dark brown hair was flowing around his chiseled features as if he had a fan in his face.

“He’s coming over here,” Mimi commented.

He was. But why?

I stopped breathing . . . right when he came to a halt in front of me and knelt down on one knee.

Eyes the color of a wild ocean gazed at me.

He took my left hand in his right one.

“Max,” I breathed, my heart fluttering.

He gazed up at me. “Sunny Blaine, will you marry me?”

The stadium went wild. In a daze, I looked up at the Jumbotron and felt like I was watching this happen to someone else. Camera phones flashed all around us.

My first clear thought was I’ll kill him.

Aloud, nothing came out but a faint wheeze. Clearly someone had stuffed a giant wad of cotton in my mouth. Clearly I needed something a lot stiffer to drink than this Diet Coke. Clearly my fake boyfriend was a freaking raving lunatic.

He sent Mimi a grin—as if to say I really got her, didn’t I, and she handed him a black box. My eyes flared as I looked from her to him. Had he . . . had she? Good God, they were in cahoots. Which explained why she’d been jittery when I picked her up earlier. She kept patting the big purse she always carried, and even on the way over to the stadium I caught her poking through it a few times. I’d just figured she was nervous about meeting Max. Apparently they’d already met.

Mimi squeezed my hand. “He called me last night and asked to come over. He asked for my approval . . . can you believe it? What a gentleman. Of course, I said yes. He’s a keeper, Sunny.” Her eyes glowed. Freaking GLOWED.

The box opened, and my stomach churned at the sight of the large round solitaire diamond ring that was nestled on the black silk. I blinked repeatedly to clear my vision.

With deft fingers, Max eased it out of the lining and slipped it on my left hand.

I stared down at it. Then back at him.

Kiss her, Kiss her, the crowd chanted.

We were the focal point of the entire world.

Max stood and tugged me up with him until we were standing. He slid his hand around my neck and pulled his face to mine. The sky was blotted out as he kissed me.

But I hadn’t said yes! I wouldn’t say yes. Not to a fake engagement.

The applause of the stadium was deafening. And his kiss—it was deadly. Despite my rage, my body craved him. His lips were hot, so hot, and my tongue met his with a vengeance. We kissed hard, and I nipped at him, my teeth scraping across his lips. But the only one who’d end up bleeding in this scenario was me.

He eased back to take me in, and with a final look at my face he gave a thumbs-up sign to the entire stadium. They went nuts, chanting his name.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear, letting his hand trail down my arm as he stepped back from me. He walked away backward, eyes on me the entire time. The announcers for the game told everyone who might have missed it that Max Kent had just asked his girlfriend to marry him, and she’d said yes. More cheers came as they replayed him on his knee in front of me with a giant YES written across the top.

I plopped back down in my seat. Frozen.