Читать книгу Rent A Millionaire Groom - Judy Christenberry - Страница 8

He couldn’t believe it.

He’d been suckered in, like an inexperienced teenager.

Damn it, he was thirty-six. He’d been chased by the best, and he’d fallen for this green-eyed witch’s simple plan.

He schooled his features to give nothing away. “I’m not interested in marriage, Dr. Foster.”

As he started to rise, her hand reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. He didn’t know whether to believe the look of horror on her face. If she was acting, she was damn good.

“No! I mean, neither am I!”

He raised his eyebrow again, still not convinced it wasn’t a trap. Too many women had seen his millions as a ticket to easy street.

“I meant I want you to come to the wedding as my pretend fiancé. I only need you until after the wedding. I like being single. I have my career. It’s only a pretense!”

She sounded desperate, he’d give her that. But he didn’t see why it would be so important to her…unless she had an ulterior motive. “Why is it necessary?”

“Look, I… Oh, never mind. It was a crazy idea. I’ll figure out something.”

Now it was his turn to reach out and stop her from rising. Was he crazy? He was backing away from the exit sign. “Just explain. You owe me that, at least.”

Her cheeks were red from what might have been embarrassment and she kept her gaze lowered, denying him the sight of those beautiful green eyes. A strand of hair, curling slightly, had escaped the clasp and dangled beside her cheek, urging him to tuck it behind her ear. Most of all, her full pink lips, without lipstick, trembled.

“I’m tired of being harassed,” she muttered.

“Harassed? By whom?”

“My family!” she almost shouted, her eyes blazing with what appeared to be anger as she finally looked at him. “They won’t leave me alone. I chose not to marry. Not to be a—a satellite to some man. I have my own career and I’m happy with my life. But they won’t leave me alone!”

The cold anger in his own heart eased slightly. He was beginning to believe her again. “What do they do?”

“You mean other than calling me every day to suggest I’m a loser old maid with no prospects?” she returned, sarcasm having replaced the anger.

“Every day?”

“I have six sisters plus my mother. And she has two sisters. My grandmother died last year, so she can’t join in—but she would if she could.”

“No wonder you weren’t enthusiastic about large families,” he said, relaxing a little more.

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I love my family. But—but they’re driving me crazy!”

Leaning forward, he captured her hands in his. “But, Elise, this would only be a temporary solution. Then what?”

“You don’t understand. It’s the prospect of a wedding that stirs them all up. And this is the last wedding. Every sister will be married. There won’t be any more weddings on the horizon to get them excited. Chance, my brother, certainly won’t be marching down the aisle. So if I can just get through this one, I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t see them all that often. For several months after the wedding I can tell them you’ve gotten a role in Hollywood. Then I’ll tell them we can’t marry because you’re always gone. It’s simple.”

James didn’t quite believe her last statement. But the prospect of pretending to be Elise’s fiancé had some appeal for him. A great deal of appeal, actually. He was fascinated by her emotion, her soft lips, her green eyes.

Recognizing a danger signal when he saw it, he let go of her hands and sat back. “When is the wedding?”

“In three weeks. That would be enough time to—to learn about each other, wouldn’t it? I mean, I can write out everything you’d have to know.”

Her scholarly approach tickled him. She thought she could write a report and they could convince everyone they were lovers? He grinned. “Well, now, I’m a method actor, sweetheart. I’d have to spend time with you to do a good job.”

The reluctance on her face assured him he’d been wrong about Elise Foster. She wasn’t trying to marry him. She didn’t even want to date him. Which only made her more attractive.

“Spend time? How much time? I mean, I have my classes and office hours and grading papers. I can’t—”

“Evenings, Elise. I have work to do, too. But we could spend a few evenings together, have dinner, talk…you know, like a real couple.”

She looked lost. He understood. He hadn’t dated anyone on a regular basis in years. He hadn’t been comfortable enough with a woman to let her get that close. Was he making another mistake?

“I suppose we could…spend a few evenings together.”

“Okay, you’ve got a deal.” He extended his hand across the table.

After hesitating, she put her hand in his. “But we haven’t discussed your fee.”

“That’s not necessary.” In fact, he was wondering if he should offer to pay her. There was an excitement singing through his veins, an enthusiasm for the days ahead that he hadn’t felt in some time.

“Of course, it’s necessary. I’m hiring you. How much would you be paid for your time if you were doing a play?”

He had no idea what Bobby would receive, so he guessed. “Union wages are a hundred and twenty a day.”

She swallowed. “Okay. How—how many times will we need to go out?”

“Oh, you don’t pay me for those evenings. That’s research. I’m responsible for research. You only pay for the time at the wedding.” He grinned, proud of his solution.

“No, that’s not right. The wedding will be three days, but I’ll pay half that rate for the evenings.” She gave an abrupt nod, firmness in her lips.

He thought she looked adorable.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss that thought.

“No? You won’t agree to half? Okay, I can pay full—”

“That’s not what I meant! That’s fine. What you said was fine. We’ll settle up after the wedding.” When it was over, he’d tell her who he really was. Payment wouldn’t be necessary.

“But won’t you need some money in advance?” She bit down on her bottom lip, and James longed to pull her to him, to touch her there.

“Uh, no, I’ll be fine.”

Her earnest, professorial look firmly in place, she said, “Look, James, don’t let your pride get in the way. I know teaching assistants don’t make much money. I’ll write a check for five hundred dollars and you keep a list of expenses.”

What could he say? He wanted that check. It was proof that she wasn’t after his money, wasn’t it? Not that he’d cash it. Instead, he’d probably frame it, to remember a certain green-eyed siren who had captured him…temporarily.

ELISE WAS UNSETTLED by her arrangement.

Or maybe she was unsettled by James’s insistence that their first research evening be tonight.

Not that she’d had plans. No, she had intended to go over her lesson plans for the next day. And there was a test she needed to grade. Normal activities.

Or maybe she was unsettled by the excitement filling her. This wasn’t a date! And even if it were, a date shouldn’t cause such interest. After all, a male friend was no different from a female one.

That blatant lie couldn’t sail past her truth alarm without ringing wildly. Okay, so sitting across from James Dillon, date or not, was a lot different from sitting with Phoebe and Daisy.

She didn’t shampoo her hair for Phoebe and Daisy.

Or shave her legs.

The phone rang.

“Hi,” Phoebe sang out, her voice cheery. “I met a man today.”

Elise gasped. She had? It must be catching.

“I’m going to introduce him to Daisy,” Phoebe continued.

Oh. Big difference. Elise wasn’t going to introduce the man she’d met to Daisy. Because he wasn’t right for her.

“That’s great. Have you told Daisy?”

“Nope. I thought we’d all grab a bite to eat at The Prickly Pear and discuss it. You can help me convince her.”

“Tonight?” Elise almost squeaked, then cleared her throat to sound normal. “Uh, I can’t tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I’m, uh, doing research.”

“For Daisy?”

“No! For me. I’m using the book to solve one of my problems.”

“When are you going out?”

“At seven.”

“Great, Daisy and I will be right over. We want to hear all about this research.”

Before Elise could protest, Phoebe hung up. But it didn’t matter. She’d have to tell her friends the truth, anyway, sooner or later. Better to get it out of the way.

She grabbed a quick shower, shampooed her hair. When she stepped out, the doorbell was ringing. “Coming!” she shouted as she dashed to her bedroom to find her silky robe. Then she let in her two friends.

“What’s going on?” Daisy asked at once. “It sounds mysterious.”

“No, it’s not. Come in. I’ll get us a cola.” Elise figured she had half an hour before she needed to get ready. “I’ve figured out a way to stop my family from harassing me about my single state.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Phoebe said. “Haven’t they been making daily calls?”

“Yes. But I’ve found a fiancé.”

Daisy almost dropped the drink Elise had just handed her. “What? You’re engaged?”

“No, but the book said look around your neighborhood and—”

“You’re hitting on Jeff? Elise, he’s way too young for you,” Phoebe interrupted. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to marry?”

Elise closed her eyes, knowing she’d made a mess of her explanation. Jeff was the guy who cleaned the pool at Mesa Blue. He was always flirting with all of them, but he was only twenty-two—a baby.

Just how old do you think James is? that irritating inner voice asked. She didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she attempted to answer Phoebe.

“I don’t want to marry. I’m telling this all wrong, just like I did this afternoon.”

“You told someone else before you told us?” Daisy asked, hurt in her eyes.

“Well, I had to!” Elise exclaimed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to be my fiancé. My pretend fiancé!” she emphasized.

“Oh, this is good,” Phoebe said, curling up on the sofa. “Tell us all about him.”

And Elise did, providing the basic facts. Phoebe, however, thought she’d left something out.

“You haven’t described him.”

“Well, he’s your typical Hollywood hunk.” Elise hoped that would satisfy her friends. She should’ve known better.

After staring at her, Phoebe nodded her head and said, “I can’t wait to meet him. Are you going to introduce him to Daisy afterwards?”

“No! Actors aren’t—stable. I mean, their jobs aren’t stable. That wouldn’t be good for a prospective dad, you know.”

“She’s right,” Daisy agreed, which settled Elise’s nerves. “They’re always gone. And they’re notorious for having affairs with the women they work with.”

Elise didn’t like that thought. Not that it was any of her business what James did when he made movies. If he made movies.

Desperate to end the conversation before she revealed too much to herself as well as to her friends, she stood. “Look, I need to get ready. He’s going to be here at seven.”

“Want to let me do your makeup?” Phoebe asked.

Phoebe was a makeup consultant as well as a college student, a “retread” college student as she called herself, and she frequently offered to do Elise’s makeup. Elise always refused.

“This isn’t a date, Phoebe, but thank you. It’s research. That’s what James called it.”

“Okay, come on, Daisy, and I’ll tell you about the guy I found for you today over dinner at The Prickly Pear.” Phoebe stood and offered a hand to pull Daisy to her feet.

Daisy joined Phoebe. “I wish you were coming with us, Elise.”

“When I get in, I’ll call you to find out what the two of you decided about the latest husband prospect for Daisy. With that book to help us, I’m sure you’ll be married and expecting soon, Daisy.”

“I hope so,” Daisy said with a sigh.

JAMES COULDN’T BELIEVE how much he was looking forward to his evening with Elise. Dr. Elise Foster. His friends would laugh if they realized he was dating an egghead, an intellectual.

Not that he was dumb, but he’d made his money understanding popular culture. His ad agency had done some of the most successful ad campaigns in the past few years. That was a long way from Shakespeare, or maybe he should say Molière, the French answer to the famous English playwright.

And Bobby would probably come unglued. James was pretty sure Bobby had taken French with Elise. He remembered now his brother talking about a beautiful French teacher. And Elise was beautiful, in a quiet way. Bobby had only stayed in the class one semester. Studying verb conjugations wasn’t his cup of tea. He’d only wanted to pick up the proper accent.

That probably explained why Elise hadn’t remembered his brother.

He dressed carefully, sticking with jeans and a casual shirt, topped by a linen sports coat. He took the check Elise had given him and tucked it in his breast pocket. His good luck charm.

Earlier, he’d convinced his housekeeper to swap cars with him for the evening. She hadn’t wanted to drive his Mercedes, but she’d promised to visit her sister. If he turned up in the sleek black car, Elise would smell a rat for sure. So tonight, he was driving MaryBelle’s inexpensive sedan.

He reminded himself to talk MaryBelle into allowing him to get the car tuned up for her. It was an older model car, and the rough sound of the engine had him concerned for MaryBelle’s safety. His housekeeper was an energetic sixty-year-old, who could cook and clean like a demon. But she knew nothing about cars. If it broke down with her, she’d be stranded.

He parked in front of the condominiums where Elise lived. Mesa Blue. It actually had a front lawn, an unusual feature in Phoenix. Elise had said it got its name from the swimming pool, the center of the complex. Its tile bottom was a deep blue.

He approved of the well-lit area. It looked safe to him. Funny, he’d never evaluated the security of his dates’ homes before. It was probably because he’d been thinking about MaryBelle’s safety. Yeah, that was it.

He found her apartment on the second floor, apartment 2D, and knocked. His heart rate sped up as he heard footsteps approaching.

When the door opened, he caught his breath.

Gone was the staid suit, the prim hairdo. Elise was dressed in jeans, as he was, topped by a green short-sleeved sweater with a modest V-neck. Her light brown hair was down, curving around her face, and she looked like a college student herself.

He found himself leaning forward, as if to kiss her hello, and stepped back. “Ready?” he asked hastily.

“Yes. Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“If you don’t mind, no. I’m starving.”

She immediately stepped out of her apartment and locked the door behind her. “Of course. Where shall we go?”

“I’ve found a place I think you’ll like. I wanted somewhere quiet so we can talk. Some of these places have the music turned up so loud you can’t hear yourself think.”

Some of the tension he’d noted on her face eased. “I know what you mean. I thought you might prefer those kinds of places. You’re—you’re younger, I suppose.”

“Actually, I’m not as young as you might think,” he admitted, avoiding her gaze. “I came back to ASU after trying my luck on the job market. I discovered I’m more interested in creating drama than I am in acting.” At least, that’s what his brother Bobby had told him when Bobby had made the decision to return to college after a couple of years in Los Angeles.

“Really? Do you write plays?”

“I’m working on a couple. Nothing that’s been bought yet.”

“That’s wonderful, James,” she said eagerly.

He wasn’t sure why that news pleased her so, but he had no objection to making her happy. She was practically beaming at him.

“You prefer a playwright to an actor?”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “It just seems more—more interesting, actually. One of my friends is creative. She has a gallery nearby called Native Art. But her greatest happiness comes when she creates her own art.”

“Hey, I’ve been in that store. She has some nice stuff. And she’s done some of it?” He put his hand on her back to guide her down the stairs, liking the warmth of her, a soft floral scent drifting to his nostrils.

“Actually, no. She creates pottery for her friends, but she won’t put her own work in the store. She doesn’t think it’s good enough.”

“Creative people are often unsure of themselves.” He dealt with employees like Elise’s friend. Brilliant people, but their mood swings sometimes made them difficult to work with.

“Are you?”

It took him a minute to figure out what she was asking. “Uh, I suppose we all are unsure of ourselves sometimes.”

When he and Sylvia had divorced, the anger in him had fueled his first few years, leaving him no room for self-doubt. By the time the anger had dissipated, he’d risen so high in the business, he had a history to fall back on. He hadn’t thought of his past like that. Maybe he owed Sylvia, after all.

He chuckled, amused by his thoughts.

“What’s funny?” Elise asked, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry. Your question reminded me of some of my early struggles.”

“It’s good that you can laugh at them.”

“Yeah, it is.” He hadn’t laughed at them before. Elise was good for him.

“I hope you don’t mind my car. It’s not exactly elegant,” he said, directing her to MaryBelle’s car. He’d rather be driving his Mercedes.

“Of course, I don’t mind. In fact, we can drive mine if you want.”

“No, we’ll take—mine. But what kind of car do you drive? I hope it’s safe.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never had any trouble with it.”

“Good,” he agreed, and held open the door for her.

He got behind the wheel, glad he’d already adjusted the seat and the mirrors for his height. He backed out of the parking lot. “I like your condos. They look nice.”

“Yes, they are. The people who live here are wonderful. My two best friends are here, but everyone’s friendly.”

He couldn’t imagine anyone being unfriendly to Elise, especially men. “Any single men live here?”

“Well, there’s Jeff and Bill.”

He assured himself it was curiosity that had him asking, “Why didn’t you ask one of them to be your pretend fiancé?”

She smiled at him. “Because Jeff is the same age as my students and Bill is almost old enough to be my father. Neither of them would be able to convince my sisters we were serious.”

He nodded, accepting the implied compliment with a smile. “Well, I’ll do my best to be convincing.”

“I’m sure you will.”

James saw the sign for the place he’d found earlier, having decided it would be perfect for a casual meal and conversation. Someplace where he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Here we are,” he said as he parked the car.

He turned to Elise, only to find her staring at the restaurant, her face pale.