Читать книгу My Fake Fiancée - Nancy Warren - Страница 9

“SO? AM I A GENIUS OR WHAT?” Sarah exclaimed, sounding ridiculously pleased with herself.

Another long second of silence passed. The coffee shop was busy with midmorning traffic, moms with kids in strollers, older folks with crossword puzzles, a large noisy table that seemed to be some kind of walking club. The babble of voices was punctuated by the steaming hiss of the espresso machine.

“Are you kidding me?” Chelsea finally managed to respond.

She’d spent the morning looking at two hopeless places to rent in the South Street area, one where a cat came to greet her at the door and her eyes started watering before she could even cross the threshold, and the other with a supposed nonsmoking roommate who seemed to think marijuana didn’t count. They’d met at a coffee shop in the area, Sarah pleased with her purchase of an old book of art deco photographs from an antiquarian bookseller. She’d bought Chelsea an old Pennsylvania Dutch cookbook, with recipes for things like schnitz pie and young duck with sauerkraut. So she hadn’t fully paid attention when Sarah promised she had the answer to Chelsea’s prayers.

When she glanced up, Sarah’s eyes were alight with mischievous laughter. She shook her head. “On the level. Dead serious. My brother wants you to pretend to be his fiancée.”

“I don’t believe it.” She’d had a hopeless crush on David Wolfe since the first moment she saw him, out in the back of his house shooting baskets. Her attention was caught by his long, athletic teenage build, his fierce focus and that face. She’d never forget that moment as long as she lived. She and her mom had just moved in with her aunt and uncle, since her parents, not content with messing up her young life with their divorce, couldn’t even work out an agreement that let her stay in her home, near her school and friends. She remembered feeling lost and lonely and hopeless. Then she’d looked out her window, seen that boy leap into the air, sun gilding his hair, and fallen hopelessly, madly in love.

She’d been fourteen years old and to this day no man could match the impact on her of first seeing David Wolfe.

Of course, as in all cases of unrequited teenage love, he’d barely noticed her existence. Now the grown-up David wanted her to playact the part of his lover?

“You haven’t heard the best part.”

“There’s a best part?”

“Because I am your lawyer—”

“No, you’re not.”

“I would be if you needed a lawyer. Quit interrupting. I negotiated terms.”

“Terms? I’m about to be homeless, I’m in no mood for your tricks. Play them on your brother.”

Sarah shook her head so violently her hair flew all over the place. “I’m not messing with you. I told him that if you were going to do him a huge favor and save his ass, then he had to do you a favor.”

“Which is?”

Sarah favored her with a huge smile. “You’re not homeless anymore.”

“What?” As the possible implication of what her best friend was saying sank in, her eyes opened wide.

“I told David you had to give up your sublet. I suggested that if you’re going to do him this huge favor, then he has to do you one and let you live in his guest room.”

Shoofly pie and the best way to cook a young pig were both forgotten. “You’re suggesting I move in with your brother?”

“Sure, his place is fantastic and there’s lots of room. The guest room’s professionally decorated, has its own TV, you’ll love it. But wait,” she said, sounding like a late-night TV commercial, “there’s more.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“He’s got this amazing kitchen. Designer everything, top-of-the-line appliances. All he ever uses is the microwave and the ice dispenser. I told him you’ll be running your catering business out of his kitchen until you can afford your own place.”

In spite of every rational brain cell—of which she used to have a lot more—she was starting to get excited. “And he said yes?”

“He said, ‘Thank you, Sarah. You are a goddess among women and I am privileged to be related to you.’”

“In other words, you told him he has to put up with me in his house or the deal’s off.”

“Pretty much.”

She sat back in her chair and sipped her latte as visions of stainless-steel appliances and a bedroom to call her own faded. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you crazy? This is everything you want. On a silver platter. I admit, having to pretend to be in love with David is going to be hard, and if I had to live with him again I’d kill myself, but you’re much nicer than I am.”

“It’s not that. I would be an unwanted guest in his house. It would be weird.”

“Believe me, that man is so desperate I could tell him he has to move out while you live there and he’d start packing.”

She chuckled. “How is it possible that an attractive man in his thirties doesn’t know any nice women?”

“He knows lots of nice women. They’re fluffies. Honestly, I don’t know where he finds these women. It’s like he orders them online. Point is, they aren’t the type of women you parade in front of your boss as corporate-wife material.”

“And you think I am?”

She made a scornful, half-laughing sound. “Hell, yeah. You’re nice to everyone, have good table manners, keep up with current events and you love to cook. Also, you’re hot, which is definitely a plus.” She stole the uneaten croissant off Chelsea’s plate and took a bite. “I’m half in love with you myself.”

“It would be nice to have a real kitchen again,” she said.

“Atta girl.” And before Chelsea could say another word, Sarah had whipped out her cell phone and hit speed dial. “Hey, bro. It’s the world’s greatest sister.”

Chelsea couldn’t believe it. Her friend was confirming the deal and she hadn’t even said yes.

“I talked to Chels and she says she’ll do it. She’ll need a three-month commitment, of course, since she needs that kitchen, so even if you get offered the VP job in a week, she still has a place to stay and a kitchen.”

Chelsea was shaking her head and her hands, she couldn’t believe Sarah was making her sound so self-serving.

Her friend ignored her. She was in total business mode now. “Deal? Excellent.” She laughed again. “Of course there will be a contract. I’ll get it drawn up before the big date on Friday. Where should she meet you?”

Chelsea opened her eyes wide. They were meeting for this date?

He obviously had some objections, too, because she heard Sarah say, “No. You can’t get together with her ahead of time. Because she’s not here.” Her friend winked at her. “She’s on location catering. She’ll be back Friday. Don’t worry. I guarantee she’ll be there. You remember Hermione—she was always completely reliable. Now, tell me where and when.”

Chelsea wondered what on earth she was letting herself in for. And what sort of game was Sarah playing? She’d almost forgotten the Hermione nickname. She’d pretended to hate it, of course, but secretly she’d been thrilled that David had noticed her enough to give her a pet name. Even if it was because she reminded him of a too-smart, socially inept nerd girl.

“No. You can’t call her. Remember, she’s working on location, I told you. Her cell phone is still on some European plan. Way too expensive. No. I’m not giving you the number. You’ll have to trust me.”

Her tone changed. “Hey, I wouldn’t let you down, not about something important.” It seemed like David had a lot more to say, and Sarah did little talking for a minute or two, merely saying things like “yes” and “of course” and finally, “Look, if you want me to tell Chelsea to forget it, I will. We only want to help you out.” Her friend continued, “Okay. She’ll see you Friday at ten minutes before seven.” He said something else and Sarah rolled her eyes. “Don’t you remember her at all? Chelsea is the most punctual person you’ll ever meet.

“Call me Saturday and tell me how it all goes. Good luck, future veep.” And she hung up.

Her brother obviously had some misgivings and Chelsea realized she had a few of her own. Also a heavy dose of suspicion. “Why aren’t you letting him see me or even talk to me before Friday?”

“Little grasshopper, you must learn to be wise. Would you rather this little high school crush you haven’t seen in forever sees you at work up to your armpits in flour and food gunk in your hairnet or wearing one of those gorgeous Parisian dresses you bought home with you, hair all done, makeup perfect?”

She had to admit the woman had a point. If she had to see the teen god of her youth again, she wanted to look her best. “And the reason you won’t even let him talk to me on the phone?”

“'Kay, that was for me. On behalf of all women, he deserves to be a little bit nervous, don’t you think?”

Chelsea took the remaining half of her croissant back again. “Frankly, right now, I don’t know what I think.”

“This is going to be fantastic. Oh, one thing, David asked that you wear something sexy.” She shook her head. “You know what men are, they love to show off a gorgeous woman. Like it gives them extra points in the boy game or something.”

“Sexy, huh?” In a deep part of herself, she had to admit the idea of having David actually look at her as a desirable woman instead of a shy teen was appealing. She reviewed her options. “I’ve got just the thing. It’s red, pretty tight-fitting and kind of low-cut. You don’t think that’s too sexy for a corporate do?”

Sarah looked delighted. “That will be perfect.”