The Doctor's Fake Fiancee

by Victoria James

  “Down,” Claire said with authority.

  Grace smiled at her through the reflection in the mirror. “Are you sure it’s not a little too crazy-looking?”

  “Are you kidding? I’d love to have curly hair. It’s gorgeous.”

  “You’re beautiful. Absolutely perfect. Ugh, I can’t wait until I can wear normal clothes again,” Holly groaned, rubbing her stomach.

  Grace smiled. “Well, for what it’s worth, you do look great. Especially since you’re so close.”

  “Thanks. Now it’s all nerves setting in. I’m kind of freaking out that I won’t be able to do this.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Claire said, giving her a little hug. “If I can have a baby, so can you, Holly.”

  Grace tried not to look nosy, but she thought it was an odd comment for Holly to make, considering this baby would be her second child. But she wasn’t about to ask, so she just stood there awkwardly.

  “Oh I’m sorry, Grace,” Holly said.

  “For what?”

  “I guess I assumed Evan had said something. But then again, he’s not really the type to bring up personal things.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t want to pry—”

  “Ella isn’t my biological daughter. She was my sister Jennifer’s daughter. When Ella was a few months old, Jennifer and her husband were in a fatal car accident.”

  Grace couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth with her hand, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  Holly smiled softly, tears making her own eyes shimmer. “Thank you. I came back to Red River, planning on cutting ties with everything here, including Quinn. But instead, I learned a lot about myself. And Quinn, and the fact that those Mannings won’t give up on the women they love. I fell in love with him and Ella. And we adopted her. It was a horrible tragedy what happened to Jen and her husband, but I thank God every day that Ella was spared and is with us.”

  Grace gave Holly a hug and the three of them stood there crying and smiling.

  “Maybe I should come back later,” Evan said, startling all of them. Despite the expression of horror at seeing them crying, he looked like every single fantasy she’d ever had about the perfect man. His hair was still slightly damp, dark and delicious. In some other world, she would have loved to walk over to him and greet him with a kiss. And he’d kiss her back until her knees went weak…

  Claire yanked him in. “Get back here, Evan. Tears are gone, no need to run.”

  They all burst out laughing.

  …

  “This is so pretty,” Grace said, trying not to gasp and look like a woman who’d never been to a nice restaurant. The drive over had been slightly awkward, as she processed everything Claire and Holly had said to her about him. But then she’d glance down at the files poking out of her bag; this was a business meeting. And she would not think of him in any other way than her employer. But that had been difficult as almost everything he did had her stomach flip-flopping. The way he shifted gears, the way his profile looked so stoic, the ways his eyes crinkled at the corners, the deep voice that was filled with confidence.

  Oh she was toast, she realized as he’d opened her door and led her to the historic restaurant inside an old mill. The light touch of his fingers at the small of her back as they walked to their table was enough to send goose bumps filling every square inch of skin.

  They were seated at a little table by the window. The view of the rushing water from the mill set off the pristine white tablecloth and china and silverware. It almost made her feel like she and Evan were on a date. She studied his face as he settled into his seat; the perfectly chiseled features, the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders. And then she remembered: he would never be on a date with her. Grace glanced down at the file beside her. This was why they were out tonight: work. She needed to remember that before she made a fool of herself and started drooling like a woman who hadn’t been out with a man in five years. Which was all true of course, but she didn’t need to look it. She should look like a woman who went out with a man like Evan every week—or at least once a year. She straightened her back; she should also look as though she went out to restaurants like this. She glanced down at her unmanicured nails and curled her fingers into a fist on her lap. Who was she kidding? Her tell-all kid had basically revealed that for at least one night in their lives, they’d been homeless.

  Grace reached for the file, but Evan stopped her. He raised his hand, slowly taking the file from her hand and set it down on the window ledge beside him.

  “Why don’t we order some wine, look at the menu, and forget about the office for a while?”

  Charming. Handsome. Courteous. Don’t go reading more into that gleam in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Sure,” she said, opening the leather bound menu. She was going to have to let him choose the wine, because the last bottle she’d ever bought was called Fat Bastard, and it had been in the clearance section.

  Grace glanced at the fine black print, almost every single dish appealing to her. “According to Quinn, this place has the best beef tenderloin in the region. Considering my brothers only eat food that’s been slaughtered, I trust their opinion.”

  Grace smiled as she closed her menu. “I think I’ll have the same. I definitely won’t be having the chicken,” she said under her breath. Evan’s deep chuckle had her curling her toes and smiling along with him.

  Once they’d placed their orders Grace took a sip of her wine as Evan sat back in his chair, calm, confident. The exact opposite of herself at the moment.

  “You must be so happy to be around your brothers every day. Your entire family is so sweet. This must be like a dream come true. I’m sure when you’re in Toronto you’ll be wishing you were back in Red River. ”

  Evan coughed—or choked—on his wine before he answered. “It’s…a change of pace, definitely. But I don’t see Red River as my home anymore.”

  A vague uneasiness swept through her. Maybe it was intuition, reminding her of the mistakes she’d made before, trusting Brian. She had stayed away from men for years, so why was she starting to fall for the one man who was clearly focused on career only? She needed to remember what all the men in her life reiterated before they walked out the door: I’m sorry, this just wasn’t what I signed up for. How could that have happened to her twice? The only answer she had was that the problem was her. Her father had walked out, and Brian had walked out. Love should have been enough to make anything work. And obviously, neither of them had loved her enough. She wasn’t strong enough to go through that again. Remember that, Grace.

  She toyed with the napkin in her lap and focused on answering the question as nonchalantly as she could. “Oh. Well, I guess I’m not surprised, I mean I know you told me about going back to the city when Dr. Chalmers was better. I must have assumed…I don’t know what I thought really. You just seem so close to your family.” She felt like an idiot. Here she was assuming what the man loved and didn’t love. She didn’t know anything about his likes and dislikes. “I’d love to have a family like them. Your niece and nephew. And Holly and Claire…” Her voice trailed off as Evan just shifted in his seat and drank more wine.

  “They are great. All of them. Staying in Red River wasn’t part of my plan.”

  She tried to shrug off the disappointment she had no business feeling. It shouldn’t matter to her what Evan was planning on doing. Even if Holly and Claire thought there might be something between them.

  She needed to focus on her art—especially considering the break Holly had just given her—and reestablishing a life for herself in this small town. And after just a short amount of time, she felt more at home here than she ever had since her mother had died.

  Evan’s eyes narrowed on something behind her, and he muttered a few words under his breath. Grace frowned, turning in the direction of his stare. She smiled as she spotted Mr. and Mrs. Puccini and waved at them.

  He leaned forward. “Why are you waving?”


  “What do you mean?”

  “I try not to encourage too many conversations outside the practice—”

  Grace started to laugh, thinking he was joking. She’d gotten used to his dry humor these last few weeks. But he didn’t laugh at all. The man was serious. “They are so sweet—”

  “Sweet is the problem. Did you see what that waitress just brought them? Some thousand-layer concoction of chocolate and icing. Mr. Puccini is on the verge of having to go on insulin for Type II diabetes. I just spent twenty minutes—which is ten minutes longer than I should have spent—lecturing him on how a few diet changes would make a big difference in staving off the progression of his condition.” He looked over his shoulder. “I should really go over there and yank that plate—”

  “You will do no such thing.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s their fiftieth wedding anniversary tonight. Yesterday, after their appointment they stayed and chatted with me. They also brought in some cannoli; I guess you didn’t see.” She quickly moved on from the cannoli when Evan’s brows snapped together at the mention of more dessert. “Seriously, Evan. This is a huge milestone—”

  “If they want to celebrate any more milestones together, they should lay off the dessert. I should talk to Natalia about making them stay away from the bakery.”

  “She’s their daughter. She can’t ban them.” She leaned down, reaching for her file with notes. This time, Evan didn’t stop her. Obviously, Holly and Claire were wrong. Evan had no interest in her other than as his secretary.

  …

  You’re toast, Evan. His attraction to Grace hadn’t waned. It had increased exponentially as she sat across the table from him. He had sat and behaved like a blubbering fool, watching the way the candlelight picked up the different shades of brown and gold in her hair. The way she laughed, throwing back her head every now and then. And then he’d noticed the expanse of perfect, creamy skin and wondered if it was as soft as it looked. He even liked the way she frowned at him, eyes flashing as he reprimanded his dessert-obsessed patients. But he’d made a promise to Grace that first day at the clinic—he wouldn’t let Chris get attached. He needed to remember that. He didn’t want to hurt either of them. Grace needed someone good in her life. A guy that would make her and Christopher first. And he knew that sleeping with her wasn’t an option. For her anyway. She was a woman who wanted commitment. Commitment to anything other than his career wasn’t an option for him.

  They were walking down Main Street, Port Ryan. It was still early in the season, and the tourist attractions hadn’t opened yet. It occurred to him that in all the time they’d spent together, he’d learned very little about her. He didn’t know anything about her as a person. This bond she’d suddenly formed with his sisters-in-law was slightly disconcerting because those two knew everything about him. And he knew they both loved Grace, which could only mean they were encouraging something that could never happen between him and Grace. He’d never told them anything about his phobia of single mothers. Or Red River. Or anything that involved the institution of marriage.

  He knew Holly was helping Grace with her art. What kind of art, he had no idea. Hell, he’d never been into that scene, and he wouldn’t know where to even begin. He had no idea if Grace was even good, and his sister-in-law was loyal to a fault and had taken Grace under her wing.

  He knew Grace was extremely hardworking and responsible. Especially for someone who looked so young. She managed being a single mother and running Chalmers’s office like a pro. They worked very well together. She was able to keep up with him, and in many ways he felt like she surpassed him. She knew all the patients by first name and things about them even he didn’t. And hell, if they all didn’t dote over Grace. They were all charmed by her.

  Tonight, the ideas she’d proposed for the office had been impressive. And he thought that would have been the highlight of his night. But it hadn’t. He actually found himself wanting to move on to personal topics. Like where Christopher’s father was. And he’d already determined that wherever the man was, he was most assuredly an ass. The next thing he wanted to know was why she and Christopher had been locked out of their apartment, why they’d had nowhere to go. That made him angry. He’d thought about that day at the park every morning when Grace walked into the office, a smile on her gorgeous face and a sheen in her eyes that made him uncomfortable because it was so obviously a sign of gratitude. Sure, he knew she was grateful for his part in saving them from the accident, but this was something else. Grace needed this job, this break, desperately.

  Grace stopped abruptly. “This is it,” she whispered.

  Evan looked down into her face. Her eyes glittered but her hands were clasped tightly together as she stared through the floor-to-ceiling window of what seemed to be an art gallery. The main lights were off, but small picture lighting glowed in the dark space, highlighting canvases.

  “What’s this?”

  She didn’t bother turning around, just stared through the window, her back to him. “The art gallery Holly was talking about. Somehow she managed to get me an appointment with them.” The reverence in her soft voice pulled and tugged at him, until he was forced to feel. Again, feeling, that thing he’d managed to avoid for a long, long time, was rearing its ugly head inside him until he was forced to care. He needed to say something, ask something.

  “I’d like to see your work.” Not that. God, not that. Why had he just asked to see her art? That was…personal. That implied interest. And crap, but when she turned around, green eyes wide and glistening, did he realize that he was interested. Very. This other side to her intrigued him. A part of him wanted to be. And hell, if that wasn’t going to send him up shit’s creek with Grace holding all the paddles.

  She gave him a slight nod and a little smile that again forced him to feel. Or maybe nudged him in the gut. “I’m going to go back to my apartment and bring my portfolio and whatever other pieces I can fit in my car. I haven’t had a chance yet; it’s such a long drive.”

  “Toronto’s not that far. Even though it does feel like we’re thousands of miles away from civilization.”

  He shut his eyes with a defeated sigh as the sound of her laughter enticed him. “Well, when you don’t drive on highways it takes a lot longer,” she said softly.

  Evan shoved his hands in his pockets. She was still staring through the gallery window. Dusk had given way to the night, and the town was quiet. The faint rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, reminding him of how much he used to enjoy spring storms out in the country. He hadn’t thought of that in years. Or how many times he, Quinn, and Jake would get hell from their mother for not having enough common sense to not climb trees when there was lightening. But that brief period in time was so fleeting, all before things in their home grew tense.

  He looked down at Grace, and for the first time didn’t begrudge his upbringing. Because at the end of the day, after the shit had finally hit the fan and all the ugly secrets came pouring out, he was left with two brothers he’d die for, two sisters-in-law, and a nephew and a niece. He had family. But Grace was on her own, trying to raise a little boy and make something of herself. No one had her back. Sometimes, the way she or Christopher looked at him made him think he could have their backs, if he were a different man. “How the hell do you get back to Toronto if you don’t take the highway?”

  She shot him a gorgeous half-smile. “Ever heard of taking the scenic route?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  She laughed and he found himself smiling. “You should try it sometimes. Cows. Horses. Country markets.”

  “Sounds like hell.”

  “If you think that’s bad, you should try it with a four-year-old, alpha-male-in-training who feels the need to give driving directions from his car seat.”

  For some reason, driving with Grace and Chris and stopping at one of these country markets sounded…interesting. He remembered their accident. G
race had been on the on-ramp to the highway. Which meant…“So why don’t you just take the fast way then?”

  Her smile dipped and she turned her gaze from him. “I haven’t since the crash.”

  That admission hung there, weighty in everything that it meant. Neither of them had brought up the accident since her arrival with the muffin basket. They’d shared something profound, as strangers, and now neither of them could speak about it. She’d admitted something personal, a weakness, and she’d let him in. And hell, it bothered the crap out of him to think that she was embarrassed and afraid.

  “You know that accident wasn’t your fault.”

  She nodded, rubbing her upper arms as though she were cold. “It doesn’t take away from the irrational fear. The kind that keeps you up at night, doing a second-by-second replay.”

  He clenched his jaw, his fists, in an attempt to reign in the emotion that pumped through him. They were both haunted by the memories of that day. “Grace—”

  She tilted her chin upward. “Looks like rain. We should probably head back to your car.” She attempted to walk past him, but he reached out to grab her arm. Her skin was cold under the palm of his hand, and she wasn’t looking at him.

  “Grace—”

  “I should get Chris. I don’t want to keep Holly up later than she has to be.”

  He held up his keys. “Drive my car.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s go. On the highway. I’ll be with you.” He didn’t know what the hell came over him. But it bothered him. He didn’t want her to be afraid of anything.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, tugging her arm from his grasp.

  “You can. Do you trust me?”

  She paused. A long pause. Then she tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing on him. He straightened his shoulders. “That was meant to be a rhetorical question.”

  She smiled, almost laughing, and he found himself doing the same.