Читать книгу Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée? - Nina Milne - Страница 12

GABBY WATCHED THE descent of the artichoke heart on to the tomato sauce of her pizza as her brain scrambled for a response to his words...questioned whether she could have heard them correctly. Perhaps this was Zander Grosvenor’s idea of some sort of bizarre joke. Perhaps her tomato-splattering response was being recorded by an unseen camera. If so, the image could be labelled The Personification of Stupefaction. Or maybe she had misheard him?

Trying not to gibber, she surveyed his expression—outwardly calm, with a hint of tension in his jawline.

Eventually her brain decided on a single syllable. ‘Why?’ Immediate hindsight suggested a simple no would have been a better choice, followed by a rapid exit.

Zander sipped his wine, then placed the glass down, his fingers still around the base. For a second she studied his hand—its size, its strength, the very faint smattering of hair, the sturdiness of his wrist—and a funny little thrill shot through her.

Wrenching her gaze away, she looked up. ‘Why would you want to hire a fake girlfriend? If you need a girlfriend, I’m pretty sure you could muster up a real one.’ The man was gorgeous and loaded and—oh, God, had she just given him the wrong idea? ‘Not me, obvs. But I’m sure there would be plenty of women who would go out with you for nothing.’

‘I don’t want a real girlfriend. I don’t want a real relationship. Not right now.’ The words or ever seemed to hover unspoken over the table, implicit in his tone, and Gabby could have kicked herself around the restaurant. The man was a widower, either still in love with his wife or not yet ready to move on. She’d been so inappropriately focused on his damn hand she’d lost the plot.

‘I’m sorry, Zander. I didn’t mean any disrespect to Claudia.’

‘None taken.’

‘But I still don’t get why on earth you would want a pretend girlfriend.’

‘Because it would make my family happy.’ His sigh contained exasperation, but affection and warmth, as well. ‘They were genuinely so thrilled that I might have found someone.’

‘Did Edna Harris mention the bunny suit?’

‘Yup. But I don’t think they would have cared if you were naked.’

Had he really said that? Naked? The two syllables resonated in the air, evoking images he quickly censored. Move along.

‘My sisters were happy I’d lightened up and met someone “fun”. My mum was happy I’d met anyone, because she’s worried I’ll never get over Claudia.’

Do you think you will? She bit back the question. None of her business. God knew she didn’t like discussing her own personal circumstances, her own losses and how she’d dealt with them. So instead she picked up a piece of pizza and contemplated him over the rim.

‘I get that you want to make your family happy.’

Hell, she’d do anything for her grandmother. Anything at all. The familiar twinge of intertwined love, guilt and worry twinged her nerves. Her grandparents had used up their pension, the equity in their house on her—the cost of bringing up a child as they’d entered their seventies had taken a huge financial toll on them. Then, when her grandfather had died, his pension had stopped.

And now... Well, Gabby squirrelled away as much of her salary as she could for the future that she knew was imminent—the time when her grandmother would need more and more help at home to retain her independence. A time when there might be no choice but to find a residential care home. After all, Lucille had turned ninety the previous month.

Gabby would be more than happy to move in with her grandmother right now, but Lucille flatly refused, informing her that she didn’t need to be tied to an old lady—she needed to be living her life and enjoying her youth. Nothing would budge her.

‘Gabby?’

‘Sorry. The thing is that, however much you love your family, faking a relationship is a little extreme. Plus...surely it’s wrong.’

‘Wrong in what way?’

‘Well, it’s an outright lie, for a start. But it’s not only a factual lie. It goes deeper. You want to make them believe that you’re getting over Claudia, that you’re moving forward, when you aren’t.’

‘I have got over Claudia. In the sense that I am not still in love with her or her memory. But my family won’t accept that—they want proof, and the only proof I can offer them is a girlfriend.’

Gabby shook her head. ‘But if you’re over her, why not open yourself up to the idea of a real relationship? With someone you really like as opposed to a virtual stranger whom you kissed to help her out.’

For a treacherous instant the kiss returned to her mind, replayed in full neon pink bunny-suited glory. And in that instant a small voice from the deep recesses of her brain screamed at her to shut up! Questioned why she was having some sort of moral, intellectual discussion about this. Hell, if this man wanted a fake girlfriend, so what? She should take the opportunity and run with it.

Run where? interjected the voice of reason. Towards more kisses? That would be plain stupid.

‘My reasons for not wanting another relationship are personal. My objective here is to combat my family’s worries. And, from an entirely selfish viewpoint, I’d like them to cease their matchmaking efforts, which, frankly, are driving me nuts.’

‘But...it won’t work.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because presumably you don’t want to continue this fiction for ever. So what happens a few months down the line when we split up? They’ll start worrying again. Even more than they are now. Because if you dump the fake girlfriend—FG for short—then they’ll think it’s because of Claudia. And if FG dumps you, they’ll be worried that you’re heartbroken. Lose-lose.’

‘I’ve thought of that. I’d make it clear from the get-go that the relationship isn’t serious for either of us. You or me. It’ll be a bit of fun, an interlude...a first step on the relationship ladder.’

To her surprise she felt a pang of hurt at the implication that that was all she could be. Get real, Gabby—talk about oversensitivity. This was a fictional, hypothetical scenario. Yet the idea of playing the role of ‘an interlude’ didn’t appeal. Shades of her childhood. To her mother she had been an unfortunate interlude, not a commitment.

Aware of his scrutiny, the small crease on his forehead, she shook her head. ‘There is no “us”—this is a hypothetical question about you and FG.’

He raised a hand in mock surrender. ‘Fair enough. But I have thought this through. This fake relationship will be a fun, strings-free one. Me putting my toe back in the relationship waters with someone not after commitment. That way my family won’t try to gather FG into their bosom, but they will feel happy I am “moving forward”. They will also stop trying to set me up with every female of their acquaintance. Win-win. It will work. So I need a real fake girlfriend. I need you. All you have to do is attend a few events with me, some family functions, be seen with me for a few months... And, of course, I’ll pay you. So what do you think?’

‘I think it’s mad and you’re madder.’

Suddenly he smiled. ‘So you’ll do it, then?’

For a moment the smile literally rendered her speechless. The usual gravity of his face had lightened, his eyes seemed flecked with wicked charm, and for a moment she almost entered the bubble of insanity and agreed.

As if he sensed her hesitation, he said, ‘Come on Gabby. It might even be fun.’

Fun. Still under the spell of that smile, her brain was exhibiting interest in the whole ridiculous idea. Perhaps it was a bit like the urge to poke an aching tooth or prod a bruise. Plus he’d said he would pay her—so in truth this would be a job, a business transaction, a chance to put away a little extra money for her grandmother.

‘What sort of events?’

‘My sister is getting married in a couple of months in Bath—at the actual Roman Baths. And I’m hosting a charity gala next week in London. We’ll need to have a few meals out, or other date-like activities in between. Smile for a few photos. There may be an interview or a few questions from reporters.’

The last words were said in such a casual tone that at first she didn’t comprehend their meaning. And then suddenly a whole lot of dots were joined up. ‘Exactly who is your sister marrying?’

‘Alessio Bravanti.’

‘The racing driver?’ Just to be absolutely sure.

‘That’s the one.’

‘And this charity gala—you don’t mean a knees-up in the village hall? You’re talking a full-on function? The type covered in celeb magazines?’

‘Yes.’ He eyed her, no doubt noting the horror that etched her features. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl—the wrong candidate for the role.’ Pushing her plate away, she shook her head, aware of a pulse of frustration-tinged regret. ‘I wish I was the sort of woman who would jump at this, but I’m not. The whole thought of being watched and judged makes me come up in hives.’

‘No one will judge you.’

‘That’s not true and you know it. Your family will definitely judge me, and I won’t blame them for that. They care about you. But it won’t only be them. What about all the guests at the wedding and the charity function? The reporters...the public...?’

‘Why does it matter what they think?’

‘Because words can hurt just as much as sticks and stones, and the wounds can take longer to heal.’

Gabby could still feel the pain she’d felt when her mother had been discussing her with her boyfriend du jour.

Yes, the kid’s a pain...a drag. I know. I’ll see if I can dump her with my parents again.

That sting would always be with her—the knowledge that she was nothing more than an encumbrance.

‘And people’s opinions do matter.’

Sometimes they could even be life-changing. Social workers had watched her throughout her childhood, assessed her, assessed her grandparents, formed opinions, and Gabby had made damn sure she’d conformed to whatever they wanted.

She had been the child they’d needed her to be: quiet, invisible, polite, grateful... Whatever it took to jump the regulation hurdles and stay with her grandparents after her mother’s death from an overdose. And she was still that person—the kind who shunned the limelight, the one who had never wanted to be anything like the ‘party girl’ her mother had been, the one who just wanted an ordinary life.

‘So I’m sorry, Zander, but I can’t do this. It wouldn’t work.’

Perhaps she was mad, given that he would pay her and she would love the chance to add to her savings. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them when she knew she couldn’t pull it off.

‘I’m not the type of person who could act as your girlfriend—someone who goes to glittering events on the arm of a multimillionaire. You’ll have to find someone else.’ He opened his mouth and quickly she stood up. ‘Bathroom break,’ she said.

And on the way to the bathroom she’d pay the bill, say goodbye and leave. Because for some daft reason she felt bad—bad that she was refusing the job and bad that she was too chicken to take on a role that most people would kill for. But she knew it was the right decision. Gabby knew her limitations and this was definitely one of them. This role was beyond her abilities.

* * *

Five minutes later Zander watched as Gabby headed back to the table, her stride purposeful, the doubts he’d sensed earlier clearly dispelled. This was a woman on a mission to say farewell and leave as soon as possible. Well, tough.

She halted, looked down and frowned.

‘I ordered dessert,’ he explained. ‘It’s the house special, and according to the staff it’s what you always have.’

The frown deepened. ‘I... How on earth do they remember that?’

Her surprise was genuine, and Zander realised that Gabby really had no idea how memorable she was. He wasn’t sure he could put his finger on it himself. She was undoubtedly pretty, but it went deeper than that. Perhaps it was the depth of expression in her hazel eyes, a sense of vulnerability...some elusive facet that etched her on people’s memory banks.

‘Anyway, I wasn’t planning on staying.’

‘But it would be a shame to waste it,’ he said smoothly. ‘And also I didn’t have a chance to mention an important part of my proposition.’

There was a hesitation and then she sighed and sat down, picking up her spoon with an expression that indicated a determination to speed eat her way through the tiramisu.

‘I didn’t mention the fee.’

Now she looked up. ‘The fee is irrelevant—because I’m not applying for the role.’

‘I understand that, but if you were to agree to this I’m willing to pay you one hundred thousand pounds plus expenses.’

The spoon clattered to the table. ‘Are you nuts?’

‘Nope.’

‘I guarantee you can get someone a lot cheaper than that.’

‘I don’t want someone else. I want you.’

Silence stretched taut as awareness joined the party—an awareness that swirled itself around them as he realised the truth of the words. He did want her. Right now he wanted to lean across the table and kiss her, taste the chocolate on her lips, entwine his fingers in the glossy sheen of chestnut hair, and then he wanted to...

Stop!

‘You are the obvious choice.’ The words sounded forced, his voice hoarse, and he picked up his espresso. ‘You are the woman I kissed. The woman Edna saw.’

Gabby took her time replying, her cheeks still flushed as if she was able to read his mind. ‘I doubt Edna could pick me out in an identity parade.’

‘Maybe not, but I’d rather not risk it. I get that this isn’t your sort of gig, but think what you could do with the money.’

A dreamy look entered her eyes and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth in clear indecision. Then, ‘You’re right. The money would be great. But I can’t accept the job because it wouldn’t be fair. I couldn’t pull it off. It’s not only the limelight factor.’ Pushing her empty bowl away, she leant forward. ‘In real life I wouldn’t go out with you. So how on earth could I fake it? No one will believe it.’

To his surprise, chagrin punched his chest at her words. ‘Why wouldn’t you go out with me?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes. Because if you tell me then I can work out if we can overcome it or not.’

‘For a start, I would never agree to a temporary, fun, strings-free relationship.’

‘Because you’re looking for a happy-ever-after?’ Try as he might he couldn’t keep the wariness from his voice.

She reached out to cover his arm in an instinctive gesture of comfort. ‘I’m sorry. I know your happy-ever-after ended in tragedy, and I understand why you may want a temporary relationship, but I... I still want a shot at it. One day.’

‘So you won’t embark on any relationship unless it’s with Mr Right?’

‘Let’s say I don’t want to embark on a deliberate relationship with someone who is definitely Mr Wrong.’

‘Fair enough. But you wouldn’t be. This would be a fake relationship.’

‘But I would find it hard to maintain a pretence that goes against my character and my beliefs. That’s hardly going to be easy to pull off, especially when I will be so far out of my depth I’ll be in constant danger of drowning. You’re a “catch.” I’m ordinary and my ideal man is ordinary. You aren’t that.’

A dark memory crossed his soul. Again Claudia’s voice echoed in his imagination.

Why can’t you be happy with what we have, Zan? With what you have? Be happy to be ordinary instead of striving after an extraordinary dream that may ruin us.

As she studied his expression Gabby shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean it as an insult. I just want to explain why you aren’t my type.’

He couldn’t let her get away with that. ‘Don’t you remember that kiss?’

Her lips parted and he wondered if she’d have the gall to deny any memory, to say What kiss? But instead, she shook her hair forward slightly to hide her face.

‘Of course I do. But that didn’t mean anything. It was just an anomaly.’

‘Then why don’t we try it again?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me.’ Zander wasn’t a hundred percent sure where he was going with this but... ‘Why don’t we try it again? Another kiss?’

‘That is a ridiculous idea.’

‘No, it isn’t. Because I don’t think it was an anomaly. On a physical level I think I am your type, and I know you’re mine. And that is exactly why we can pull this off.’

‘Relationships are about more than the physical.’

‘Sure. But without a physical attraction there is no relationship. And in the case of a fun-filled interlude the physical aspect is the most important.’

‘I am not kissing you now.’ Gabby glanced around, then narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I bring my grandma here, for goodness’ sake.’ Her forehead scrunched into a scowl. ‘In fact I am not kissing you ever. If you think you can pay me to—’

‘No!’ How could he, Zander Grosvenor, king of the boardroom, dealmaker extraordinaire, be making such a hash of this? ‘That isn’t what I meant. I don’t want to have a real physical relationship with you.’

Liar, liar, whole suit on fire!

Deep breath. ‘I just want to demonstrate that whether we like it or not, act on it or not, there is a real physical attraction between us—and that means I think we could pull this off. Convince everyone that we are in a real relationship. Even though we won’t be. On any level.’ He leant back. ‘Can you look me in the eye and tell me this attraction is a figment of my imagination?’

Against all odds her eyes scrunched further shut, and then she expelled a sigh. ‘I can’t do that. But believe me, I wish I could.’

Bingo! ‘Then I respect your reservations, and I appreciate your honesty, but I believe we can do this. If I’m wrong that’s my bad—not yours. So what do you think? A few social events and you pocket a hundred grand?’

Indecision hovered on her face, etched her forehead with a crease. She closed her eyes as if picturing the cash.

Finally she opened them and gave a small, decisive nod. ‘OK. I’ll do it. But only if I can tell my grandmother the truth.’

Zander hesitated.

‘She won’t tell a soul. I give you my word. Also, it’s a non-negotiable condition.’

‘Then so be it. You can tell your grandmother. Now, do we have a deal?’

‘We have a deal.’