Читать книгу Rent A Millionaire Groom - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 10

“This is not going to work!” Elise assured her friends, pacing the floor.

After she’d reached her apartment, she’d called Phoebe and Daisy to come join her. She needed some reassurance.

“What’s not going to work?” Daisy asked. “He’s certainly handsome enough.”

“Yes,” Elise agreed with a sigh.

“Charm just oozes out of him,” Phoebe added. “If he goes professional, he’s going to be an enormous hit.”

“Yes,” Elise agreed again.

“So why won’t he work?” Daisy asked, her gaze fixed on Elise.

“I’m the weak link. He makes me feel self-conscious. My sisters will never believe that I attracted that kind of man. It just won’t work.” She had to come up with some reason to break off the agreement. Even if she had to pay him the full amount. Even if she had to go to the wedding alone.

“Maybe his method acting will help.” Phoebe’s grin alerted Elise.

“Exactly what does that term mean?” James had mentioned it several times, but she really hadn’t paid much attention. Phoebe’s smile seemed to indicate it was important.

“Um, in general terms, you live the part, pretend it’s really you.”

“Live the part?” Elise asked, fear rising in her. The man was going to pretend he was really engaged to her? Oh, Lordy, she was in big trouble. If he touched her…kissed her— “I can’t do it!”

Daisy was looking confused. “Why would method acting make you think you can’t go through with it? I would think that would make it easier.”

Elise couldn’t answer.

Phoebe did. “I think Elise is afraid it will become too real for her. He might break her heart when it’s over. That’s why a lot of actors fall in love with their co-stars. They pretend to fall in love and, voilà, they are.”

“Oh.” Daisy shot a sympathetic look Elise’s way.

“Yeah. And then, when it’s over, a good method actor moves on to his next part. We amateurs aren’t as skilled in—in moving on.” Elise didn’t think she would ever forget James Dillon, even now after one “research” evening. She wasn’t falling in love. No, not that. But—but she could.

“I wish I could find someone like James,” Daisy said with a sigh.

Elise saw a chance to break the agreement. “You’re right. I’ve been too selfish. I’ll tell James you have first dibs on any men we find and—”

“No! You heard him. He’s not interested in being a father. And an actor really isn’t a good prospect. I just mean someone who—a man who knows what he wants. A man who finds his own way in the world. I’m tired of men who are looking for a second mother.”

“He said he goes home to eat!” Elise protested, glad to find something to complain about.

“Daisy’s right. He won’t do for her. Besides, she’s agreed to go out with the guy I found. Maybe he’ll do the trick.” Phoebe smiled at Daisy.

Daisy returned the smile, but Elise thought they both looked doubtful. “What’s wrong with him?”

Both friends said, “Nothing!” at the same time.

“I mean, tell me about him. That’s what I meant.”

Phoebe immediately launched into a sales campaign. “He’s divorced, has a twelve-year-old daughter. That’s how I met him. He brought his daughter to my class for young teenagers on how to apply makeup, so they don’t look like a Las Vegas show-girl. And he’s a dentist, very handsome.”

“He puts his hands in other people’s mouths,” Daisy muttered.

“He wears gloves, Daisy. And you haven’t met him. He’s charming.”

“As charming as James?” Daisy countered.

Phoebe made a face. “Not many men are as charming as James. But he’s pleasant. Give him a chance.”

“Okay, okay. I said I’d go out with him. Friday, right?” Daisy asked.

“Right. When are you going to see James again?” Phoebe asked Elise.

“Friday.”

“Hmm. Guess I’m on my own Friday night. Maybe I’ll see if the Madisons will take pity on me,” Phoebe said with a grin.

Elise smiled back. The elderly couple who lived just down the hall from Phoebe loved feeding their single neighbors. The three women had a standing invitation for dinner. The only cost was listening to stories of the Madisons’ beloved grandson, Wyatt. Since none of them had ever met Wyatt, they had to take his besotted grandparents’ word on how perfect he was.

“Maybe you should discuss Daisy with them. They’ll immediately offer Wyatt as a solution, and our problems will be solved!” Elise said with a chuckle.

“I don’t think I could possibly be perfect enough for Wyatt,” Daisy protested, laughing.

His perfection had become a standard joke among the three of them. When one of them intended to do something the other two thought was crazy, they always invoked Wyatt as a naysayer.

Phoebe looked pensive. “You know, with all their talk about Wyatt, I don’t even know what he does for a living. They’re always talking about his childhood. Maybe because that’s all they know. He certainly doesn’t show up often. And they’re such sweet people.”

They all nodded, but Elise’s mind was focused on her own difficulties. Neither of her friends had shown her how she could get out of the situation she’d created.

In truth, she knew there wasn’t a way out. Unless she was willing to go to Sharon’s wedding alone. And she wasn’t. So she had to risk her heart to stay sane—only, risking her heart would drive her crazy.

What was a girl to do?

FOR THE NEXT two days, James chuckled often as he remembered the conversation he’d shared with Elise—and anticipated their Friday evening together.

“What’s put you in such a happy mood?” MaryBelle asked as she served him breakfast Friday morning.

James immediately wiped away the smile. “Me? It’s a beautiful day.”

“We live in Phoenix, James. Most every day is beautiful, but that’s never stopped you from acting like a grouchy bear.”

“I’m not that bad, MaryBelle,” he protested. But he was beginning to wonder. He’d gone back to the office yesterday and several people had commented on his change of attitude.

“It’s a woman, isn’t it?” MaryBelle suddenly guessed.

James immediately felt sympathy for Elise’s blushes as his cheeks heated up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aha! I was right. It’s about time, too. It’s unnatural for a handsome man like you to have nothing to do with women.”

“Don’t be silly, MaryBelle. I work with women all the time. Some of my best creative people are women.”

“This is different,” MaryBelle announced, a satisfied look on her round face. She picked up the coffeepot and poured him more. “Eat up, or I’ll think you’ve lost your appetite because of this woman.”

He glared at her.

“Ah, maybe she isn’t as beautiful as she should be, if you’re going to start growling again.”

The temptation to assure his housekeeper that Elise was quite beautiful almost escaped his lips, until he caught the expectant look on her face. She was fishing for information. He pressed his lips together, then took a deep breath. “The coffee is especially good this morning, MaryBelle. New brand?”

“Nope. It just tastes better when you’re in a good mood.” After a moment, she asked, “Am I going to need to look for another job?”

Stunned, he put down his coffee cup. “What are you talking about? Have I upset you? You know I can’t manage without you.”

“I thought maybe with a new woman in the picture, she might not want me doin’ the cooking.”

Whether or not he gave her information about Elise, he couldn’t let MaryBelle, sixty years young, worry about her future. She’d been a part of his life for almost ten years, and he couldn’t ask for better. Rising, he hugged her rounded form. “I can’t do without you, MaryBelle, new woman or not. Besides, she’s a career woman. She’ll love having you here.”

“Aha! I knew there was someone!” MaryBelle crowed.

“You rat! You tricked me. You knew I’d worry about your hurt feelings. Shame on you!”

“It’s your fault,” MaryBelle proclaimed, her nose in the air. “You’re too closemouthed for your own good.”

He didn’t agree with that, but he didn’t mind letting MaryBelle know about Elise. He wanted to tell everyone about her, but that wasn’t a good idea. Their being together was only temporary, he reminded himself. He headed for the door. “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. Oh, and I’ll need to borrow your car again.”

“Okay. Thanks for the tune-up and wash, by the way. It drives a lot better now.”

“I’ll leave the keys to my car.”

“No need. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a wave, he was out the door, briefcase in hand, as usual. But he knew the smile on his lips was a new addition, as of two days ago.

SHE DIDN’T WEAR JEANS.

That smile insisted on spreading across James’s mouth. He’d made her self-conscious. Tonight, she was dressed in a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt that fell to mid-calf. It wasn’t tight enough to allow her shape to be seen, or full enough to swirl around her legs. And her blouse was done up all the way, except for the tiptop button.

She hadn’t hidden her small waist, however. A belt with a silver buckle spanned her middle, like the bow on a present—and he was ready to start unwrapping. He found her demure outfit to be more enticing than any bikini.

“Shall we go?” she asked, staring at him.

“Not inviting me in tonight?” he asked, just to be ornery.

She’d met him at the door and had immediately stepped forward and locked up behind her. He suspected she didn’t trust him.

“I figured you were hungry.”

“Starved,” he assured her, letting his eyes tell her what kind of hunger he was talking about. She got the message. Her cheeks flamed again. He was almost ready to change his favorite color to rose, a beautiful dusty rose under peach-colored skin.

Instead of preceding him down the stairs, she suggested, “You go first.”

He was about to grow concerned that he’d teased her too much.

Then she added, “It’s my turn to enjoy the view.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” he assured her, grinning, and headed down. At the bottom, he turned to wait for her. “Okay?”

“Fine.” She avoided looking at him.

They got in the car, but he didn’t start the engine. “Just for the record, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Why?”

“You seemed a little uncomfortable with our conversation Wednesday night. It occurred to me that you were less experienced than I expected.”

She looked out the window rather than at him. “Just because I don’t normally discuss sex with men doesn’t mean I’ve never— No, I’m not a virgin.”

“Good.” He started the engine and backed out. “I’ve chosen another restaurant this evening. I hope you like Italian?”

“Yes, I love it.”

Okay, so he’d made the right choice. She’d be more relaxed, and he’d learn even more delightful facts about Dr. Elise Foster. It was so hard to picture her as a college professor.

“Do you like teaching at ASU?”

She looked surprised. “I love it. I love the French language. It’s beautiful, lyrical, and I love sharing it with others.”

“I bet your students love the language, too, when you’re finished with them.”

“You make it sound like I force-feed them.”

“No, I suspect you seduce them,” he said softly, imagining listening to her for an hour, a smile on his lips.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Sorry, just a phrase. Listening to your voice is such a pleasure, I think you could convince me of anything.”

“I didn’t mean to overreact, but in this day and age, we have to be very careful.” She folded her hands in her lap.

“Maybe I should’ve found a French restaurant and let you order for us,” he suggested.

She rolled her eyes. “Why? You speak Arizonan as well as I do. You don’t really think the waiter would be French, do you?”

“Surely there are some Frenchmen in Phoenix.”

“There are, but they’re usually the chef, not the waiters. I’ve had several come speak to my classes.”

“Do you cook French dishes?”

He was surprised by the suspicion that filled her gaze.

“Why? Are you hoping I’ll cook for you instead of your mom? Or cook a meal for you to impress someone?”

The tension in her voice confused him. “I was just making conversation, Elise, trying to get to know you. What did I do wrong?”

She looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t explain the problem. What is it?”

“M-my fiancé didn’t want me to have a career unless it was entertaining his clients. The only schooling he wanted me to bother with was Cordon Bleu 101 so he could impress them.”

“I hope you kicked him out on his behind.”

“My family didn’t have that reaction.”

“Well, they should’ve. You weren’t hiring on to be his housekeeper. You were going to be his wife. Didn’t he care about what you wanted?” He thought the guy sounded like a jerk.

They’d reached the restaurant, and he parked. Then he turned to look at Elise. She hadn’t responded to his statement. “Elise? Did I hurt your feelings? Are you all right?”

She blinked rapidly before looking at him, but he could still see the tears pooled in her eyes. “James, don’t be—be so charming, please. I can’t—”

“What are you talking about?”

“No man has ever— Even my family thought I was crazy because I objected to Richard’s agenda.”

“What did your brother say?”

“Chance? Oh, he didn’t say much. He tried to stay uninvolved in what he called ‘emotional girl stuff.”’

“That was probably smart,” James agreed with a chuckle, “but it would’ve been better if he’d supported you.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “This looks like a nice restaurant.”

Clearly she was ready to change the subject. “I haven’t tried it before, but it came highly recommended.”

Once they were seated inside, he decided he’d made the right choice. Each booth had high backs and swinging saloon doors, giving them the illusion they were in a small room all alone. “Guess no one will interrupt us here,” he said with a smile.

“I hope at least the waiter stops by, or we’ll starve to death,” Elise returned, smiling now too.

James was relieved. He didn’t want her unhappy, but he felt as if he’d uncovered a lot in the short drive. When he combined the information about her fiancé and her taking care of her six sisters, it was easy to understand her resistance to marriage.

A thought suddenly struck him. “Richard is the only man you’ve slept with, isn’t he.”

The waiter opened the swinging door. “Good evening, I’m your waiter for the evening. Richard is my name.”

Elise turned a bright red.

ELISE LET JAMES do the ordering. Since he consulted her on her preferences, he actually asked the waiter for exactly what she would have ordered. Richard used to order his own choices and expect her to like them.

She’d been an idiot ever to put up with the man.

The amazing thing was James’s agreement. She hadn’t expected him to even understand her problem with Richard’s attitude, much less support her. She’d told Phoebe and Daisy about Richard’s controlling nature, of course, in one of their late-night chats, and hadn’t been surprised when they’d agreed with her assessment of him. They were women.

The waiter finally left the table, and James leaned back against the booth. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, thank you. You ordered exactly what I wanted.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’ve only slept with Richard, haven’t you.”

“James! You have no right to ask such personal questions! I haven’t asked that of you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, spreading his hands wide.

“I don’t see any need to discuss our past lives. My sisters won’t ask questions about your past.”

“Then they’re mighty unusual women.”

“If they do, I’ll tell them it’s none of their business, nor mine, either, for that matter.”

He leaned forward, and even with the table between them she found herself pressing against the back of the booth.

“You’re telling me even if we were really engaged, you wouldn’t ask about my past partners? You wouldn’t even want to know about my ex-wife?”

Shocked out of her self-consciousness, she leaned forward. “You’ve been married? You must’ve been very young.”

For the first time in a while, he was the one to seem ill-at-ease. “Yeah.” He busied himself with his napkin.

“See? It’s uncomfortable to be grilled by a stranger,” she pointed out.

“I wasn’t grilling you!” he snapped. “It seemed to me you haven’t spent a lot of time with men, but if you were a virgin, I—”

“I’m not. We’ve established that. And I told you I hadn’t dated much. So, we can move on.” She certainly hoped they would. She was tired of turning a bright red every time she talked to this man.

Silence followed. Okay, so they didn’t have anything in common. Well, they had the school. She’d talk about school. “How was your day? What play are you working on now?”

He didn’t look enthusiastic. “Um, Shakespeare. We’re doing a Shakespeare play.”

“Oh, really. I thought you were going to skip him this year since you just did a Molière. I heard you were going for contemporary comedies to tempt a younger crowd.” She stared at him curiously. There had been a big debate on campus, the classics versus the popular.

“Oh, you mean our production. Right, of course. I thought you were referring to my classes. We’re working on Shakespeare in class, but our—our public presentation is a contemporary.”

“Which one?”

He looked a little lost, and she stared at him.

“I believe it’s a Neil Simon. Yes, a Neil Simon. He’s a very good writer, you know.”

Her lips twitched. Did he think she was an idiot? “Yes, I heard,” she said smoothly.

Now he blushed bright red. She loved turning the tables on him.

“Of course you have. I didn’t mean to imply— I was embarrassed because I couldn’t think of the name of it.”

“It’s not a test, James,” she assured him kindly. “I thought you would be involved in it, that’s all.”

“Not yet. I’ve had too much to do for my classes.”

“How many hours do you teach each week?”

He more easily fielded that question. “Nine.”

“And you also take classes? That’s a heavy load. Are you sure you have time for—for our nonsense?”