by Vera Quinn
Dr. Wharton said, “It’s safe to say you can take him home now, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
And he did!
The Playboy’s Pretend Fiancée
Rochelle Bradley
Chapter One
Hidden among the hedge shadows, Stephanie Malone waited for her aunt. Laughter from the manor house reminded her she hadn’t been invited to the gala. Unaccustomed to high heels, she shifted in the grass as the heels sunk.
“There you are,” Amber hissed. Her blond wavy bob had been straightened for the shindig. “Why are you skulking in the bushes like a thief?”
Stephanie stopped herself from rolling her eyes and blew out a sigh. “Maybe because we shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s the best chance I have to speak to Gillian Nocker. You know how much I want a part in the play,” Amber said, narrowing her gaze to study a couple ringing the doorbell. “Besides, I know how much you want to see inside the house.”
Stephanie grinned, her silence revealing the truth. She scanned the windows, watching the smiling people greet each other.
“Come on.” Amber tugged Stephanie’s elbow.
“I don’t know about this,” Stephanie said, following Amber.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Amber threw a wry grin over her shoulder as she stepped onto the porch.
“Well, we could get arrested for trespassing, for one,” Stephanie grumbled, hugging herself.
“You worry too much,” Amber said. “It’ll be fun.”
“You look like you belong, but…” Stephanie glanced at her knee-length blue dress.
Ignoring the comment, Amber took Stephanie’s elbow and tugged again. “You look classy.”
“You know I’d only wear a dress to help you,” Stephanie said.
“I know.” Amber giggled. “Your legs deserve freedom. Maybe you’ll dance with that gorgeous playboy tonight.”
Stephanie froze, jerking Amber to a stop. “No way. He knows he’s hot and flirts with everyone. I am not going to be a notch on his bedpost.”
Amber gazed into her eyes as Stephanie tried to swallow a lump in her throat.
They walked to the door, following another couple. The man in a black suit jacket pushed the doorbell. The beveled glass sparkled in the light as the wide door swung open.
“Welcome,” a woman said. “Your hosts are in the ballroom. Follow me.” She turned and led the group down the hallway.
The foyer boasted a sweeping stairwell that divided into two, each leading to its own wing. The tall ceiling held simple yet thick crown molding. Amber cleared her throat, catching Stephanie’s attention, and she hurried to catch up.
“I knew you’d love the house,” Amber whispered.
“It’s so grand,” Stephanie said, passing a lit niche filled with crystal.
Murmuring partygoers filled the hall as they entered the room. “Here you are,” the woman said. “Enjoy your evening.”
The couple waved to friends and disappeared into the crowd. Amber and Stephanie stood next to the wall, observing.
After a minute Amber brightened. “There she is,” she smiled and pointed to an elderly woman.
“Are you sure you want to approach her here?” Stephanie cautioned.
Amber rolled her eyes. “I didn’t put on pantyhose for nothing.” She inhaled deeply and took a glass of pink liquid from a tray of a passing server.
“May I have one,” Stephanie asked the man, who frowned after her aunt.
“Yes, miss,” he said, holding the tray for her.
Stephanie picked a glass, then watched her aunt schmooze with the play director from the neighboring town. Amber had a beautiful voice, but the underhanded attempt to gain the Nockerville resident’s attention might come back to haunt them both.
Stephanie moved to the other side of the room, slowing beside Seymour Hickey when he said, “The treasure.” He held a highball glass filled with golden liquid. His gray, nearly bald head caught the light as he tipped his head with a twinkle in his eye.
Stephanie turned, concealing her gasp. Discovering the Cummings’ treasure had been a story kids had reenacted while playing. As an adult, she’d put it aside as myth.
“How about you, little missy?” Seymour said, tapping on her arm.
“Excuse me?” Stephanie said nervously. The patriarch of the manor could throw her out.
But he smiled. “What have you heard about the Cummings’ treasure?”
Stephanie’s mouth flopped open, and she shook her head.
“Come now,” Seymour said, crinkling his eyes, his brows forming one white line.
“Um. As a kid I heard it was a stagecoach heist, but I also heard it could have been a train robbery.”
“Did you know about the curse?” Seymour asked.
She rubbed her head. “I don’t recall anything regarding a curse.”
“I do,” a man’s velvety voice responded from behind her. “We’re cursed to never find the dang thing.”
Stephanie stiffened, refusing to turn, and sipped her wine.
“Oh, tell me,” Morgan Topp said to Seymour. Morgan was a Fortuna social worker and an acquaintance of Stephanie’s mother. Stephanie nodded in greeting.
She glanced around, finding double doors open toward the outside. Stephanie edged toward the doors, then exited onto the patio. A few bistro tables held revelers sampling hors d’oeuvres. She once again hid in a shadow, watching her aunt fling her hands around as she talked. Gillian Nocker held a smile.
“Maybe Aunt Amber will get lucky after all,” Stephanie said with a smile.
“Who’s getting lucky?” A buttery voice said.
Stephanie nearly dropped her glass. She covered her thumping heart.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping near. “I seem to have that effect on all the ladies.” He offered his hand. “Sawyer Hickey.”
Everyone in Fortuna knew bloody well who the Hickeys were. Stephanie frowned until she stared into his eyes, eyes that twinkled with friendliness through sinfully long lashes. She couldn’t help her lips as they transformed into a grin. She took his large hand.
“Stephanie Malone. My aunt Amber and I have crashed your party,” she admitted.
“Oh really,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly before crinkling as he chuckled. “I won’t tell my aunt Wanda if you won’t.”
Laughter burst from the room, and Sawyer glanced up. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I think you’re the only person close to my age.”
Stephanie studied the party attenders. “I suppose you’re right. Wow.”
“A couple of the caterers are younger but…” He shrugged.
“I guess I need to stay away from your aunt, since she’ll know I wasn’t invited.” Stephanie sidestepped toward the ballroom, finding Amber beside a grand piano handing sheet music to the director. The woman cracked her knuckles. Amber sipped from a glass of iced water.
“Looks like a singalong,” Stephanie murmured.
“Groovy,” Sawyer said behind her again.
His breath caused shivers to run down her spine. Stephanie found it hard to breathe even though she stood outside.
“Sawyer,” a feminine voice floated from somewhere on the patio.
“Uh oh. It’s my aunt. Move inside the room, behind the wall where she can’t see you.”
Stephanie nodded and advanced into the room. She waved at Amber but listened to Sawyer’s conversation.
“Auntie Wanda, did I tell you what a picture you are in pink?” he gushed.
The woman twittered. “Thank you.” After a moment she asked, “Who was that young woman?”
Stephanie peeked around the wall. Sawyer had hugged a tiny woman with short snow-white hair. He glanced up and winked at Stephanie. She heated and retreated out of sight.
“Oh, you noticed her?” he asked slyly.
“I saw you noticed her too.”
“Yes ma’am. Her dress caught my eye. It’s the color of bluebonnets.”
Stephanie glanced d
own at her dress and smiled. Sawyer had picked the exact reason she’d purchased the dress.
“That did not answer my question, young man.”
“She’s the niece of one of your friends. I hope you don’t mind she tagged along.”
Once more Stephanie glanced at Sawyer. He held his aunt’s hands and smiled affectionately down at her. Warmed by Sawyer’s relationship with his aunt, Stephanie smiled at hers. Amber belted out the finale of the song. The director nodded. Their covert mission was on the brink of success.
“I’m glad she’s here. We’re going to go treasure hunting,” Sawyer said.
“Oh, that stupid treasure,” Wanda grumbled.
“Auntie,” Sawyer said.
“Fine. Don’t get into any trouble.”
Sawyer laughed, and his aunt joined him.
Stephanie jumped when he touched her hand. He laced his fingers with hers. “Come on.”
She glanced helplessly toward her singing aunt, who belted out a show tune. Stephanie gave up resisting and let him sweep her away.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Treasure hunting,” Sawyer replied, turning down a narrow passage. It opened into a two-story library. One wall was floor to ceiling windows, another was shelves and shelves of books.
“Wow,” Stephanie said. Her finger skimmed the spines of the closest shelf. The leather-bound covers appeared ancient.
Near the window, a cast iron staircase spiraled to a second-floor ledge. The ledge wrapped around to the open balcony overlooking the library.
Sawyer plopped into a burgundy leather chair with claw and ball feet and rubbed his hands. “I like this room.”
“Me too,” Stephanie replied, feeling behind her for the matching chair.
Recessed lights bathed the room with soft light, accentuating the large fireplace gracing the other wall. Tiles in fall colors surrounded the firebox in stark contrast to the white marble mantle.
“So, this is the treasure,” Stephanie said in a soft voice, studying the huge hunting picture that hung over the mantle.
Sawyer chuckled, and Stephanie glanced at him. He ran his fingers through his hair and grinned as she followed the motion.
“No, but it’s rumored to have something to do with this room,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“Don’t you know?” she asked, inspecting the rows of books again.
“Not really.”
Stephanie jumped to her feet with her hands on her hips and eyeballed him. “This is your house and your family. Surely, you’ve got to know something.”
Sawyer rose abruptly, matching her stance and leaning into her space. “I’ve already told you the something. It has to do with this room. And don’t call me Shirley.”
“I, uh?” Stephanie stepped backward. She shook her head and laughed.
“My dad said this room is the key to the treasure.” Sawyer strode to the books and waved. “I think a clue has to be in a book, but which one?”
Stephanie tilted her head, reading the titles. She worked her way down the row. A book caught her eye about seven feet up.
“I might have found something,” she said, taking the cast iron stairs. Her shoes clanged as she circled until she was close to the book.
“What is it?” Sawyer asked from below her.
“Treasure Island.” She tried to keep the excitement from her voice as she glanced down into his shining eyes.
“Awesome.” He grinned. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”
“A book about a treasure hiding a clue about another treasure…” Stephanie shrugged. She stretched her hand toward the book. It was just out of reach. Determined, she leaned against the rail and reached further.
“I wouldn’t—” Sawyer started.
The iron rail gave way. Stephanie screamed as she plummeted through the air—right into Sawyer’s strong arms.
Chapter Two
Five years later…
Sawyer stuck a hand in the hot sudsy water and retrieved a plate. It seemed like none of the other ranch hands knew how to wash dishes. He’d had to soak the pile before he filled the dishwasher.
Gimme Malone and Chappy Pitts watched a movie behind him. Sawyer tried to tune out their banter, listening to the soundtrack of Dirty Dancing.
“I can dance like that,” Gimme declared.
“Bull,” Chappy replied.
“Just watch me,” Gimme said.
Sawyer turned with a smirk. Gimme swung his hips and mimicked the actors on the screen. Loading the last dish, Sawyer couldn’t contain his laughter.
“What?” Gimme demanded with his hands on his hips.
“Nothing.” Sawyer dropped onto the sofa next to Chappy. He motioned to Gimme. “Continue.”
Gimme turned around and twerked, earning more laughter. He scowled. “I’ll have you know, the ladies like my dancing.”
“Which ladies?” Sawyer asked.
“His sisters.” Chappy sniggered, elbowing Sawyer.
“Hey, leave my sisters alone,” Gimme growled.
Chappy punched the air with his finger. “When you grow up in a house full of girls, you know a thing or two about the ladies,” he said, copying Gimme’s tone.
The younger man frowned. “Well, it’s true.” Gimme stared out the window.
“So which sister taught you to dirty dance?” Chappy asked.
“Stephanie?” Sawyer was sure the Fortuna Savings and Loan bank manager had never danced dirty. The memory of her in his arms flashed in his mind’s eye.
Gimme glowered out the window with his arms crossed. Chappy and Sawyer shared a look and a grin.
“The lawyer is here and going to Mr. Davidson’s house,” Gimme finally said.
Chappy and Sawyer gathered at the window beside Gimme. Warren Teed clambered up the steps onto the Big Deal Ranch house’s wide porch.
“That suit looks expensive.” Chappy rubbed his hay-colored hair.
“And hot,” Gimme added.
“Nice Mercedes.” Chappy pointed to the silver sedan.
“He’s a lawyer. Must be nice to be made of money. Huh, Sawyer?” Gimme glanced at him, but Sawyer ignored the prod, and instead, focused on Brad Davidson greeting Warren with a handshake. Brad nodded and motioned toward the bunkhouse.
“They’re coming over here,” Gimme said, stating the obvious.
Chappy and Sawyer shared a look, and Chappy rolled his eyes.
“Maybe you should throw your trash away?” Sawyer suggested.
Gimme grabbed the empty microwave popcorn bag and soda can. He scurried to tidy up as Brad swung open the door.
Warren met Sawyer’s gaze and nodded.
“Howdy,” Brad greeted. He scrutinized the room, landing on the paused movie. “Sorry to interrupt your downtime, but we have a visitor.” Brad introduced his ranch hands to Warren.
“Welcome.” Chappy stuck out his oversized mitt.
“Sawyer, if I may have a word…?” Warren started.
“Okay.” Sawyer glanced at the other men.
Brad sauntered toward the back and opened the door to the bunk room. “Let’s give them some privacy.” Gimme and Chappy silently shadowed Brad like sad puppies. With a click, the door latched, leaving an awkward silence.
Warren cleared his throat. “Let’s sit.” He moved to the small round table and pulled out a chair. Sawyer joined him.
Warren folded his hands on the tabletop. “This visit is regarding unfortunate news.” He held Sawyer’s gaze.
Sawyer leaned back and nodded.
“It’s about your aunt Wanda’s will—”
Sawyer jumped up. “What’s happened? Is she okay?” His heart became lodged in his throat.
Warren’s eyes widened, then he blinked. “She’s fine. Please sit down.”
Sawyer returned to the chair but sat on the edge, trying to calm his breathing.
“I mean she’s as well as expected under the circumstances.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “What circumstanc
es?”
“The cancer, of course.” Warren frowned.
“Cancer? Oh hell,” Sawyer uttered, rubbing his chin.
“You didn’t know?” Warren tapped the tabletop with a manicured finger.
“No. I knew she’d gone to the doctor a few times, but she wouldn’t say more than that.” Sawyer squeezed his eyes shut. It felt as if a rock landed on his chest. He scrubbed his face.
His eccentric old aunt had never married. She was his last living relative on the Hickey side of the family.
The last time he’d seen her had been at church. She’d scanned him from head to boots before her crony, Desire Hardmann, had grabbed Wanda’s elbow and whisked her to a group of ladies planning a bake sale.
He regretted not speaking with her. Now that he thought about it, Sawyer hadn’t seen her at church in a few weeks. He rubbed his stomach, trying to relieve the dread pooling there.
Chapter Three
Nan O’Wrimo opened the door of the Cummings house. The older woman’s bright-white smile contrasted her creamy milk chocolate skin. “Welcome, Stephanie. We’ll be meeting upstairs today in Wanda’s sitting room.”
“I’m glad she’s up to the historical society’s meeting,” Stephanie said, entering the foyer.
“Go on up. It’s to the right. Second door on the left.” Nan pointed.
Holding the thick handrail, Stephanie climbed but hesitated at the split. She continued up the left side and followed the hallway to the balcony overlooking the library.
The windows covered with heavy curtains let minimal light into the cavernous room. Sheets had been thrown over the leather chairs. It reminded her of something from a horror movie and was nothing like the brilliant room she’d seen before.
Only once before.
When Sawyer had lured her with the treasure. He’d caught her, then kissed her. She touched her lips and shivered, remembering his kiss. Breathless, she backed out of the library and hurried to the stairs.
Sandy Beach was huffing up the stairwell and met her eyes. “I thought it was to the right?”
