Calgary, Alberta, Canada

"JR, I hate to ask but…"

Approaching him as he stood looking out their hotel room window at the city street below, she handed him the necklace, swept her hair aside with one hand and turned her back to him.

"Of course."

Gentle in his hand movements, latching the clasp with ease, not pulling at her skin, he surprised her further when he brushed his hand against hers, releasing her hair and setting it back in place.

"There you go."

"Thank you."

Turning to face him again, she met his eye, falling silent at the expression on his face. His earlier movements gentle, his eyes were anything but; his lustful thoughts clear despite his gentlemanly behaviour.

"Ready to go?"

Prompting her, she wondered if he was hoping she'd say no, that she'd suggest staying in. The way he was looking at her brought such thoughts to the forefront of her mind and unfortunately, she didn't instantly dismiss or even dislike the thoughts.

"Mhm."

Confused and scared of what was happening, she took the opportunity to make sure they weren't alone for much longer.

"Do you find it difficult?"

"What?"

"Being in the oil business. I do my best to listen to what Ed has to say but it's all so dull to me however you choose to do it, so you must find it fascinating."

Engaged in a discussion with 'one of the other wives' as JR had termed them, somehow they were still discussing oil, a subject neither of them had any interest in.

"Fascinating is a bit of a stretch. I've always worked, I like to have something productive to occupy my time with, but oil wasn't something I chose. I grew up somewhat connected to the industry and then married into it. Fashion is what I chose, oil chose me and things spiralled from there. My husband…"

"Fashion? Do you design?"

Cutting her off before she could explain again how exactly oil had become her career, the conversation moved towards something she always had an interest in discussing, her chosen career falling by the wayside during her marriage to Bobby, unlikely to return any time soon considering she was still trying to master the basics of oil.

"I never got that far, I was a buyer at a store..."

"JR, we need to put a stop to this."

Collecting two glasses from a passing waiter's tray, JR handed one to Pamela, stopping to listen to what she had to say.

"What?"

"This… whatever this is. Everyone here thinks we're married."

"So?"

Shrugging, he played dumb as to why she'd think that was a problem.

"We're not."

Chuckling, he didn't know why she was allowing herself to get so worked up about it, but he couldn't say he hated seeing her flustered.

"You don't have to tell me that."

Having the title of husband and none of the perks wasn't his idea of a good time, but he didn't see the need to make it a bigger issue than it currently was.

"No, but we should let everyone else know."

"Now? When they've already gushed about how lovely we are together?"

Joking, referring to the multiple comments they'd received complimenting them, he grinned.

"Are you enjoying this?"

Not quite stamping her feet in annoyance, but getting close, her irritation was just the encouragement he needed to continue.

"Maybe a little."

"Why? You know I can't stand you, and I know you can't stand me."

Shaking his head, he was quick with his mock offense.

"That's harsh."

"That's almost a direct quote."

Shrugging and laughing, he leaned in closer, whispering in her ear.

"Let these people think whatever they want to. 99% percent of the guests here we'll never see again. Who cares what they think?"

He'd chosen to attend a conference in Canada because of the single northern interest Bobby had brought to Ewing Oil after their fight for ownership following their daddy's death and generally, Ewing Oil's business network wasn't didn't heavily overlap that of the other guests present, so he had very few concerns about the lasting opinions of anyone around them presently.

"I care. And what about the 1% we do see again?"

"Pamela, I'm not here to stop you from telling the truth. If you want to, go ahead. The fact is people believe whatever they want to believe, regardless of the truth. Another fact is that I'm not lying to anyone and neither are you."

Listening to him, her facial expression indicated she was conflicted. He might have made a good point but it wasn't one she could comfortably accept alongside her own opinion.

"It might not be a lie but we're actively involving ourselves in a miscommunication if we continue to accept compliments about how lovely we are together or how progressive it is for a couple to share a company when neither of those statements are that simple in our situation."

"You're your own person, do exactly as you wish."

Aware he wouldn't even entertain the idea back home the way he was now, at present he didn't have the same concerns, finding the entire situation amusing and frankly, enticing.

"I will."

Reacting petulantly, finishing her drink in seconds, her feelings were clear. She wasn't nearly as satisfied with his answer as she wanted him to believe she was, but she'd be damned if she'd continue a conversation that was going nowhere fast.

"Good. Shall we dance?"

Hot and bothered about what everyone else thought of them, it seemed only natural that eventually Pam would need someone to take her frustration out on, and if he played his cards right, that person would be him.

"Pamela, JR, come with us."

No closer to an agreement regarding how to progress, the evening got away from them, dinner, dancing, drinks, more dancing and more drinking always seeming to get in the way of a conversation that needed to be had.

They weren't together, but that fact remained unknown, the omission becoming their identities, something that was never more obvious than when the after party invitation was issued.

Not quite quick enough with an excuse why they couldn't make it to the impromptu get together, before she knew it JR's hand was on her back again, walking alongside her as they left the banquet room and headed toward the elevator with the energetic group.

She'd not yet figured out what was so fascinating about oil, the presentations throughout the day making little sense to her and the conversations in the evenings generally led by JR, her input mostly that which could be classed as public relations, however she knew it wasn't oil that was keeping their new friends abuzz.

Unlike her and JR, everyone they'd left the organised evening function with had chosen to be paired off and as the night was young, anything could happen.

A party was a party; there were those who danced, those who talked and those who appeared to disappear almost as soon as they arrived and this was no different.

Shown into the living room of the suite she was sure was more like what Ewing Oil had originally booked, she accepted the drink that was offered and while she didn't intend to end up where she did, before she knew it she was sitting in JR's lap, his hand resting on her thigh.

Engaged in conversation that flowed easily and never focused on one topic for too long, she couldn't have recapped exactly what they'd discussed as her mind was elsewhere entirely.

JR's touch felt like that of a lover, which they certainly were not, but strangely, the idea that they weren't lovers made her feel melancholic rather than happy.

Not entirely sure how they ended up as they had been, he knew exactly how they'd settled into the position they now occupied.

Leaving his lap in search of a bathroom, he'd not expected at all that after excusing herself she'd return to exactly where she'd originally settled upon arrival, right back in his lap, but she had and he wasn't complaining.

Resting her head on his shoulder, her hair covering her face, she didn't make any effort to brush it out of the way, leaving him to wonder what was going on in her mind.

"Are you tired honey?"

"No."

Running his hand through her hair, prompting her to look up at him, he asked another question.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

Shaking her head, she smiled and sat up straighter, not appearing tired any longer, her readjustment ensuring he'd not be sleeping any time soon either.