Fiancé in Name Only

by Maureen Child

  Instantly his body went hard as stone again. He swallowed the groan that rose in his throat. Wasn’t it enough that she’d tormented him all damn night? Why was she here first thing in the morning? Cooking? God, he needed coffee.

  And the only way to get it was to deal with the woman smiling at him.

  Five

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Cooking.” She smiled at him and Micah felt every drop of blood drain from his brain and head south.

  After turning the fire down under the pan, she walked to the coffeemaker, poured him a cup and carried it to him.

  “I made breakfast.” She sounded bright, cheerful, but her eyes told a different story. There was worry there and a hesitation that put Micah on edge.

  Whatever was going on, though, would be handled best after coffee. He took his first sip of the morning and felt every cell in his body wake up and dance. How did people survive without coffee?

  After another sip or two, he felt strong enough to ask, “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Why are you here? Why are you cooking?”

  “Just being neighborly,” she said, and he didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Yeah.” He walked to the table, sat down and had another sip. “I’ve been here two months. This is the first time you’ve been ‘neighborly.’”

  “Well, then, shame on me.” She stirred the eggs in the pan and neatly avoided meeting his gaze. Not, Micah told himself, a good sign.

  “You’re not really good at prevarication.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. Good word.”

  “And,” Micah added wryly, “not very good at stalling, either.”

  She sighed heavily. “Okay, yes, there is something I need to talk to you about, but after breakfast, okay?”

  He grabbed a slice of bacon, took a bite and chewed. When he’d swallowed, he sent her a hard look. “There. I ate. What’s going on?”

  Taking a deep breath, she turned the fire off under the eggs before facing him. “I need a husband.”

  Not enough coffee, he told himself. Not nearly enough. But he said only, “Good luck with that.”

  “No,” she corrected quickly. “Not a husband, really. I just need a fiancé.”

  “Again. Happy hunting.” He got up to refill his coffee and thought seriously about just chugging it straight from the pot.

  “Micah, I need you to pretend to be my fiancé.” After she blurted out that sentence, she grabbed her own cup and took a drink of coffee.

  He leaned back against the granite counter, feeling the cold of the stone seep through his T-shirt and into his bones. He crossed his bare feet at the ankles, kept a tight grip on his coffee mug and looked at her. “That seems like an overreaction to one kiss.”

  “What?” She flushed, flipped her hair behind her shoulders and said, “For heaven’s sake, this isn’t about the kiss. Though, I admit, it gave me the idea...”

  More confused than ever, he could only say, “What?”

  “Oh, man, this is harder than I thought it would be.” She dropped into a chair at the table, grabbed a slice of bacon and took a bite. “I don’t even know how to say all of this without sounding crazy.”

  “I’ll give you a clue,” he said softly. “Just say it. Don’t lie to me, either, trying to soften whatever it is that’s going on. Just say it.”

  “I wasn’t going to lie to you.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, took another breath that lifted her breasts until he got another peek at that lacy bra, then started talking. “When I went home last night, my gran called and she started in on moving back again because I’m so alone, and before I knew what I was saying, I told her that she didn’t have to worry about me being lonely anymore because I’m engaged. To you.”

  Well, he’d wanted the truth. Micah shook his head, walked to the table, sat down opposite her and waited. Objectively, as a writer, he couldn’t wait to hear the rest of this story, because it promised to be a good one. As a man with zero interest in marrying anyone, he felt itchy enough that he snatched another piece of bacon and bit into it.

  Her green eyes were flashing and her chin was up defiantly, but she chewed at her bottom lip, and that told him she was nervous. That didn’t bode well.

  “You have to understand, Micah. Gran’s my only family and she was so sad after my grandfather passed away.” She folded both hands around her coffee mug. “Then she moved to Florida with her sister, my aunt Linda, and she was happy again. Then Sean died and she came home to be with me and she started worrying and the sorrow crept back into her eyes, her voice, everything. It was like she was being swallowed, you know?”

  No, he didn’t know. He didn’t have family. Didn’t have the kind of deep connections she had, so he couldn’t be sure if he’d have reacted the same way she did or not. But just looking at Kelly told him that she was emotionally torn in a couple of different directions.

  “I finally convinced her to go back to her life by telling her I needed time alone—which wasn’t a lie,” she added. “And being away from here, the memories of Grandpa and Sean, helped her and she was happy again. Micah, she’s determined to come back here and protect me. To sacrifice her own happiness on the altar of what she thinks of as my misery.”

  “Are you miserable?” he asked, interrupting the stream of words pouring from her.

  “Of course not.” She took a sip of coffee. “I mean, sure, I get lonely sometimes, but everybody does, right?”

  He didn’t say anything because what could he say? She was right. Even Micah experienced those occasional bouts when he wished there was someone there to talk to. To hold. But those moments passed, and he realized that his life was just as he wanted it.

  “But when I told her I was engaged to you...” Kelly sighed helplessly. “She was so happy, Micah, that from there, I just grabbed the proverbial ball and ran with it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Oh.” She put her head in her hands briefly, then looked up at him again. “I told her how romantic your proposal was—”

  “What did I do?” Now he was just curious. He couldn’t help it. This was all so far out there that it didn’t even seem real. It was like watching a movie or reading a book about someone else.

  Still worrying her bottom lip, she said, “You set up a candlelit dinner on the porch around back and you had roses everywhere and music playing and little twinkle lights strung over the ceiling...”

  He could see it and thought she’d done a nice job of scene setting. “Well, I’m pretty good.”

  She gave a heavy sigh. “You’re laughing at me.”

  “Trust me,” he said. “Not laughing.”

  “Right.” She nodded, swallowed hard and said, “Anyway, then you went down on one knee and asked me. But you didn’t have a ring because you want to take me to New York to pick one out.”

  “That’s thoughtful of me.”

  “Oh, stop.” She tossed her slice of bacon onto her plate. “I feel terrible about all of this, but I was so worried that Gran was going to hop on the first plane out of Florida...” She plopped both elbows on the table and cupped her face in her palms again, making her voice sound weirdly muffled when she added, “Everything’s just a mess now and if I call her back and tell her it never happened, she’ll think I lied—”

  “You did lie.”

  She looked up at him. “It was just a little lie.”

  “So now size does matter?” He shook his head.

  “Oh, God. How can you even make jokes about this?”

  “What should I do? Rant and rave? Won’t change what you told your grandmother. But I never understood,” Micah said, watching her as misery crossed her face, “how people could convince t
hemselves that little lies don’t matter. Lies are never the answer.”

  “Oh.” She smirked at him and Micah was pleased to see the snap and sizzle of her attitude come back. “Mr. Perfect never lies?”

  “Not perfect,” he told her tightly. “But, no, I don’t.”

  “You’ve never had to tell a lie to protect someone you care about?”

  Since he had only a handful of people he gave a flying damn about, the answer was an emphatic no. Micah didn’t do lies. Hell, his mother’s lie—I’ll come back for you. Soon...—still rang in his ears. He would never do to someone what she had done to him with that one lie designed, no doubt, to make him feel better about being abandoned.

  He scrubbed one hand across his face. It was too damn early to be hit with all of this and maybe that’s why Micah wasn’t really angry. Confused, sure. Irritated? Always. But not furious. A part of him realized he should be mad. He was used to people trying to use him to get what they wanted. It was practically expected when you were rich and famous. And those people he had no trouble getting rid of.

  But Kelly was different. He looked across the table at her and noted the worry in her eyes. Why was he so reluctant to disappoint her? Why was he willing to give her the benefit of the doubt when he never did that for anyone else? She was lying to her grandmother. That wasn’t exactly a recommendation for trustworthiness. And yet...

  “Why me?” he asked abruptly. He got up, walked to the coffeepot and carried it back to the table. He filled both of their cups, then set the pot down on a folded towel. Staring at her from across the table, he said, “There have to be some local guys you could choose from. Pick someone you know. Someone who knows your grandmother and might want to help you out with this.”

  She took a gulp of coffee like it was medicinal brandy and she was swilling it for courage. “Why you? Who else could I tap for this? Gran knows everyone in town. She’d never believe a sudden engagement to Sam at the hardware store. Or Kevin at the diner. If anything romantic had been going on between me and someone in town, her friends would have told her about it already.”

  Irritating to realize she had a point.

  “But you’re a mystery,” she continued, leaning toward him. “She knows I have a famous writer living here, but no one in town could have told her anything about you. You hardly ever leave the house, so, for all anyone knows, we could have been carrying on some torrid affair right here in the house for the last two months.”

  Torrid affair? Who even talked like that anymore? But as archaic as the words sounded, they were enough to make breathing a little more difficult and Micah’s jeans a little tighter. Still, he shifted his mind away from what his body was feeling and forced it to focus on what she’d said.

  Kelly wasn’t doing this because he was rich. Or for the thrill of claiming a famous fiancé. He was her choice because no one in town knew him. Because her grandmother would believe her lie. So it wasn’t him so much that she wanted. Probably any single renter would have done. That made him feel both better and worse.

  “That’s why I picked you. You’re perfect.”

  Perfect, he thought wryly. And handy.

  “Why should I go along with this?” Not that he was considering it, he assured himself. But he was curious what she’d come up with.

  “As a favor?” she asked, throwing both hands high. “I don’t know—because you’re a fabulous human being and I’m flawed and you feel sorry for me?”

  He snorted.

  She sighed and scowled at him. “Micah, I know it’s a lot. But this is really important to me. Gran’s happy in Florida. She has friends, a nice life with her sister. She’s enjoying herself and I don’t want her to give it all up for me.”

  He heard the sincerity in her voice, read it in her eyes and knew she meant every word. And he wondered what it would be like to love someone so much you were willing to do whatever it took to make them happy? But since he avoided all closeness with everyone, he’d never know.

  Hell, he’d broken off his own real engagement because, bottom line, he couldn’t bring himself to trust the woman he’d proposed to. He didn’t believe she loved him—because she hadn’t known the real him. He hadn’t allowed her to peek behind that curtain, so he couldn’t trust that she would still care for him if she ever found out that he was a man whose past haunted every minute of his present. So he’d ended it. Walked away and vowed he’d never do that again.

  Yet here he was, actually considering another engagement? This one based on a lie?

  “Micah, I don’t want anything from you.”

  He laughed shortly. “Except an engagement to fool an old woman, the lies to keep the pretense going, and a trip to New York to pick out a ring...”

  “Oh, God.” She flushed and shook her head. “Okay, yes, I do want you to pretend to love me. But you won’t have to lie to Gran—”

  “Just everyone else you know.”

  “Okay, yes—” She winced a little as she admitted that. “But there won’t be a trip to New York and there won’t be a ring, either. I can keep postponing our trip when I talk to Gran and—”

  “More lies.”

  “Not more lies, just a bit more emphasis on the original lie,” she argued. Frowning, she met his gaze squarely and said, “If you think I want to be dishonest with my grandmother, you’re wrong. I love her. I’m only doing this because it’s the best thing for her.”

  He drank his coffee and felt her steady gaze focus on him. As if she could will him to do this just by staring at him. And, hell, maybe it was working. He was still here and listening, right?

  She must have sensed that he was weakening because she leaned toward him, elbows on the table. Did she know that the vee of her blouse gaped open wider, giving him a clear and beautiful view of the tops of her breasts?

  “I’ll sign anything you want, Micah,” she said. “I know you probably have lots of people trying to get things from you—”

  Surprised that she seemed to have picked that thought right out of his mind, he watched her carefully.

  “But I’m not. Really. If you’re worried I’ll sue you or something, you don’t have to. I don’t want anything from you. Really. Just this fake engagement.”

  In his experience, everyone wanted something. But Micah was intrigued now. “And when I leave town? What then?”

  “Then,” she said, heaving a sigh as if she already dreaded it, “I’ll tell Gran we broke up. She’ll be upset, but this engagement will buy me some time. Gran will be able to stay in Florida without worrying and...” She took a breath, then lifted her coffee cup for another sip. “Maybe I’ll think of a way to convince her to stay there even if I’m not engaged.”

  He didn’t like it, but Micah couldn’t see where this ploy was going to cost him anything, either. He’d only be in town four more months, and then he’d be gone and this would all be a memory. Including the fake engagement. And, he had to admit, the longer he looked at Kelly, seeing the worry in her eyes, hearing it in her voice, the more he wanted to ease it. He didn’t explore the reasons he was wanting to help her out because he wasn’t sure he’d like the answers.

  “All right,” he said, before he could think better of it.

  “Whoop!” Kelly jumped out of her chair, delighted. She came around the table, bent to him and gave him a hard, quick hug. Then she stood up and smiled in relief. “That’s so great. Thanks, Micah. Seriously.”

  That hug had sent heat shooting straight through him, so he needed a little space between him and Kelly. Fast.

  “Yeah,” he said, rising to put the coffeepot back on its burner. He turned around to face her. “So what do I have to do?”

  “Nothing much,” she assured him, and joined him at the counter, closing the distance he’d just managed to find. “Just, when we’re around people in town you have to act like you’re
nuts about me.”

  “Oh.” Well, he thought, that would be easy enough. Not that he was in love with her or anything. Sure, he liked her. But what he felt for her was more about extreme lust. So, he could sure as hell act like he wanted her, because he did. Now more than ever.

  What he didn’t want was a wife. Or a fiancée. But he’d never wanted anything in his life more than he wanted Kelly in bed.

  She looked insulted as she stared up at him. “Oh, come on,” she said. “You don’t have to look so horrified about pretending to love me. It won’t be that hard to do.”

  Hard? Not a word Micah should be thinking about at the moment. Staring into her green eyes was almost hypnotic, so Micah shifted his gaze slightly. “Yeah,” he said with just a hint of sarcasm, “I think I can handle it.”

  She laid one hand on his arm, and once again a flash of heat shot through him. “I really appreciate this, Micah. I know it’s weird, but—”

  “It’s okay, I get it.” He didn’t. Not really. How the hell could he understand real family? He’d lost whatever family he had when he was six years old. But, as a writer, he did what he always did. He put himself in someone else’s point of view. Tried to look at a situation through their eyes. Over the years, he’d been in the minds of killers and victims. Children and parents.

  Yet, he was coming up blank when he tried to figure out what Kelly was thinking, feeling. In fact, she was the one woman he’d ever known who was as damn mysterious as the stories he created. Ironic, he told himself, since he made his living inventing mysteries—and now he was faced with an enigma he couldn’t unravel.

  It wasn’t just Kelly confusing him. It was what being near her did to him that had him baffled.

  And he didn’t like the feeling.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Kelly was at Terry’s house, wishing she was anywhere else.