by Kyra Jacobs
“All right, here’s the deal. I’m not here for a business meeting. I’m here for a job interview. After the whole televised kiss fiasco, FITS suggested I take a leave of absence, until the media whirlwind died down. Only it didn’t, not in time for the new camp season, so a month later they quietly asked for my resignation. Said the scandal’s bad publicity would tarnish the program’s name.”
Color flooded Miles’s face. “Are you kidding me? After all you did for them? Without you the program would have never gotten off the ground!”
“I know, I know. But I also understand where the board was coming from. FITS is funded entirely by sponsors—bad publicity equals less funding, and I couldn’t forgive myself if my selfishness cost a single kid their chance at attending the camp. So I agreed.”
Her gaze shifted to the depths of the pond beneath her dangling feet. Dark days had followed that decision. Very dark days. It was one thing for Liam to steal her happily ever after. But when his selfishness stole her career as well, it’d been nearly too much to take.
“Oh, Steph.”
“No.” She pointed at him. “Do not give me that tone, Miles. I don’t want your pity. Though, I could use your help…”
“Which is?”
“Hang on, I’m getting there.” She ignored his flat look and lowered her hand. “So, a few weeks back my sister Livvy called, said she heard through the grapevine at her job with the state house that Michigan was considering starting up a similar program. And they’re looking for someone to head it up.”
“That’s great, Steph—you’d be the perfect fit.”
“Thanks, she thought so, too. Except there was a catch. It seems they’re looking for someone stable. Emotionally stable. And when Livvy recommended me, the person in charge hesitated. Said they needed someone confident, someone they could rely on.”
Miles frowned. “Someone not fresh off a divorce and still licking their wounds.”
“Exactly. Which is why Livvy took it upon herself to tell him that it wasn’t an issue since I’d already gone and gotten engaged.”
“You what? When the heck did this happen?”
Stephanie flinched at his outburst. Sure, the idea was a bit shocking, but why did he look mad enough to spit?
“Cool your jets, I didn’t. She lied so he’d give me an interview…”
“Oooh, I get it.” Miles nodded, his lips pursed. “Stephie got herself in a pinch and now she’s looking for someone to bail her out.”
Stephanie rose up onto her knees. “Please, Miles? Please pretend to be my fiancé? You won’t actually have to do anything. Just, I don’t know, walk by and pat my shoulder or something during the interview. Then after I get the job, we can, you know, amicably part ways.”
“Pat your shoulder? Oh, yeah. That’d be convincing.”
“Fine. Give me a hug, smile and wave, I really don’t care. I just…I really need this job. To prove to everyone I didn’t give up on life. To prove it to myself.”
The smirk on his lips faded away. “So…why me?”
“Because you owe me about a hundred times over for all the times I fibbed to get you out of trouble with Ruby when we were kids.” She gave his arm a playful jab. “Besides, you’re the only one I can trust.”
His gaze shifted from hers. “I don’t know about all that.”
“Come on, Miles? Please? For old times’ sake?”
“How long are we talking?” he asked.
“I don’t know. At most, a week, maybe two?”
“That’s all? A week or two, no strings, no dinner parties?”
“Nope, none of that. Just you and me playing the part in front of Mr. Evanston. I’ll take care of the rest.”
He stared out over the pond, considering her request. The silence between them grew, and for the first time Stephanie found herself wondering if he might turn her down. He never had before, not on something like this. Had Miles changed over the years more than she’d realized?
“Fine,” he said on an exhale. “But don’t even think of trying to take advantage of me while we’re pretending to be engaged. Because once you’ve had all this,” he said, hitching a thumb toward himself, “you’ll never go back.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Really?” He perked up at that. “From who?”
“It’s a joke, Miles.”
His eyes narrowed. “I can still throw you in the water, you know.”
“But you wouldn’t do that to your new fiancée.” Stephanie leaned over to peck a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, hon.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“I should probably get back, keep rehearsing my answers to the usual array of interview questions.” She rose and scooped her sandals from the dock. “You coming?”
“Nah,” he said, looking out over the water once again. “I think I’ll stay another minute or two.”
“Oh, right.” She rubbed a hand over the opposite arm. “You…okay?”
“Yep. Never better.”
There was something in Miles’s tone that didn’t quite match his words, but she let it go. If he had something to tell her, he would. At least, the old Miles would have.
“Well, thanks again. For agreeing to play the part and all.”
“Sure, sure.”
“I’ll, uh, call you later? Give us a chance to work out some of the details?”
“Mmmhmm.”
Stephanie turned and headed for the inn, an odd mixture of emotions swirling in her mind. On one hand, she was hugely relieved to have a fake fiancé locked in. But on the other, she worried about putting Miles out. Which was silly, of course. He didn’t have to do anything more than vouch for her fib, and that was only if someone asked. Besides, she had covered his butt more times than she could count back in the day.
So why did she feel like he was getting the short end of the stick?
With a sigh, she pushed the worry from her mind and tried to focus on something far bigger—getting her life back on track.
Chapter Seven
Stephanie stood in front of the large mirror in her suite’s bathroom, applying mascara while talking with Rebecka on speakerphone. Technically, she was listening, and Becka was doing most of the talking. But she’d needed a pep talk, and as Livvy was still on her doo-doo list, Becka had been the next best choice. Her or Miles, but his office door had closed a while ago and had yet to reopen.
She hoped it wasn’t because he was trying to avoid her. Though, as he’d given her a thumbs up when passing through the dining room just before lunch, and their brief engagement-planning conversation on the phone last night had turned into a forty-five minute catching-up session, Stephanie couldn’t imagine he was. At least she hoped not, especially since they were supposed to be engaged and all.
Engaged. Just thinking the word nearly made her gag.
Never again.
Never ever again.
“Will you stop worrying already?” Becka said, ending Stephanie’s mental detour. “You’re gonna do great in there.”
“Thanks, sis. I wish I had a tenth of your can-do attitude.”
“Steph, honey, listen to me. No matter what happened yesterday, or six months ago, or six years ago, it doesn’t change the fact that you are an expert on this type of charity organization. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that you’ve got more knowledge about fundraising for this kind of thing in your little finger than most people will learn in their lifetime.”
“So why do I feel like I want to throw up?”
“Ah, the classic Steph upset stomach. You know what that means.”
“That I care.” Stephanie scowled. How many times had she been dished that reasoning as a kid when she was gearing up for an important soccer match? And dang it if her sister hadn’t been right.
“Just like Ruby cares about her inn’s carpet, so please don’t puke in there, okay?” Her sister chuckled. “Look, even if you’re not completely comfortable yet with the idea of moving back or considering another job in the
same field, hear the guy out. Share your wisdom. Be strong for the same reason you stuck your neck out when you guys pitched the idea of FITS in Florida—for the kids.”
Stephanie sighed. She hated when Rebecka pulled out her blue-ribbon debate-club skills, especially when layered with a healthy dollop of guilt. What kind of person would say no to helping low-income kids?
“Fine. I’ll do it, but I won’t like it.”
“There’s the Stephanie we all know and love.”
“You’d better love me. I did convince Joe to let me borrow you for the day tomorrow, after all.”
“I know!” Becka squealed, the sound reverberating off the bathroom walls. “I can’t wait to see the old inn. And they still have a pool, right? Because if so, we are totally going to spend some time lounging out there.”
“Oh, yeah. A pool, the old pond—”
“No, no pond. I want clean water I can see all the way to the bottom and no fish nipping at my toes. Ick.”
Stephanie laughed. “Fine, we’ll stick to the pool. And you’ve got to try the food. Their new chef Maddie is amazing.”
“So that means you’ve left your room a few times now?”
“Of course I did.” Stephanie omitted the part about there being no room service. Or the mini-anxiety attack she had upon first learning that was the case. But the attacks had diminished over the past two days, and she was feeling good about her chances at keeping cool, calm, and collected during the interview.
“Well, that’s progress and progress is good,” said Becka. “Now get off the phone and go knock this Evanston guy dead, will ya? Unless, of course, you’d rather someone else come in and win the job.”
“Are you kidding me? No way.”
Stephanie thanked her sister for the encouragement, ended the call, and then frowned. Letting someone else win—hadn’t that been what she’d been doing the past few months? Letting Liam and the media and all the naysayers win?
It was time for that to stop. Past time. She was tired of being scared, of hiding while the rest of the world carried on. A spark of self-confidence flared within her. She could do this. She knew she could. All they were going to do was talk, right? What was the worst that could happen?
“Me, let someone else win?” She met her reflection’s gaze, determination in her eyes. “Not if I can help it.”
…
Miles hung up the phone and sank back into his office chair, exhausted. It’d been years since he’d been through a job interview, and never while on the clock at his current place of employment. Well, if you could call this being on the clock. He worked when he needed to work and didn’t when he didn’t. Today, he’d stretched that a little further after getting the call from an excited Freddie, asking him to clear an hour of his afternoon for an impromptu interview.
As payer of all bills and payroll overlord, Miles figured this place owed him as much. Still, every little bump and creak that sounded in the old building around him ratcheted up his guilt level. All the memories, the familiarity, even the scent—it all helped shape what had become his second home.
And yet none of that was enough to make him walk away from this offer.
He’d hit it off instantly with Steve Rozario, founder and CEO of Columbus, Ohio-based Techworks International. The guy was sharp as a whip but had a great sense of humor. And he was a Yankees fan, which had Miles liking him that much more. Too bad Steve probably wasn’t available to come to the inn and win over his family like he’d just won over Miles.
His family.
Miles dragged a hand across his face. How on earth was he going to break the news to his family if he got the job? He’d cried wolf about leaving so many times they probably wouldn’t believe him until he started boxing up his office. And with a possible start date of August first, moving day would be here before they knew it. Before he knew it.
Rozario was headed out of town on business tonight, but promised he would have a decision to Miles by the end of the week. And while Miles’s body was humming with anticipation, right now he wanted nothing more than to turn his brain off for a few hours. To grab some carryout, head home, and crack open a cold beer in hopeful celebration.
He fought off a wave of melancholy at the thought of celebrating alone as he powered down his computer. Eventually he would share the news with his family. Hopefully, they’d be happy for him.
Miles headed down the hall and poked his head into Ruby’s office to tell her he was calling it a day, but the space was empty. A woman’s soft laughter drifted out from the dining room and caught his attention. He’d know that laugh anywhere. What he didn’t know was who owned the voice that now chimed in.
A deep voice. One that sounded far too comfortable with Stephanie and their conversation.
Oh, crap—Steph’s interview. All that work to try and remember their fake relationship details, and he’d nearly missed the whole thing. He backed up a few steps and peered around the dining room’s entranceway to spy Stephanie seated at a table in the far corner with a distinguished-looking middle-aged gentleman. His rolled up sleeves and relaxed posture oozed confidence, and Stephanie was leaning forward with both elbows on the table, entranced by their conversation. The scene would have appeared harmless enough if not for the look in her companion’s eyes. He was sizing her up, assessing her. Like the Big Bad Wolf plotting his next move with Little Red.
And nobody was messing with Miles’s Little Red.
“A job interview, from the sounds of it.”
Miles started at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. As usual, she’d appeared out of nowhere to call him out on something woman-related. He turned from the couple to face Ruby, preparing to dodge whatever arrow the white-haired cupid might let fly.
“Yeah, she mentioned it to me yesterday. After church.”
“Oh? Well, it sure would be nice to have her back in Michigan where she belongs.”
“People don’t belong to a certain state, Ruby. They choose to be there.”
“If you say so, dear.”
Miles bit back a sigh at her patronizing tone. And then it hit him—in all the anxiety he’d had over his own upcoming interview, he’d forgotten to mention the engagement to the rest of his family.
“Um, Ruby, this interview is pretty important to Stephanie. She was looking for a bit of moral support, so I said I’d help any way I could. A bit of fibbing about our relationship status might be necessary, so I need you to play along.”
Ruby’s brows tugged low. “You’re going to lie about being my grandson?”
“No, my relationship with Stephanie. I—”
“Oh, I-I don’t know.” Stephanie’s voice caught Miles’s attention. He spun to see a look of mild panic upon her face, and the need to save her from whatever terrible turn their conversation had taken launched him forward. Miles was halfway to their table before he realized what he was doing. Big Bad’s gaze shifted to Miles and watched him approach.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Miles said, scrambling to think of an excuse for doing just that. “Just checking to make sure you two are being well taken care of?”
Stephanie offered him a forced smile, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Oh, yes. Your grandmother has been spoiling us as always, dear.”
“Indeed she has.” Big Bad turned his assessing gaze from her to Miles. “You must be the lucky man.”
“Yes.” Miles offered the man a smile and placed a hand on Stephanie’s shoulder. The silky fabric beneath his touch felt so inviting he couldn’t help but put his free hand on her other shoulder as well. “Yes, I am. And you are?”
“Evanston.” Big Bad rose from his chair with hand extended. “Chris Evanston. Governor’s Aide.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Evanston. Miles Masterson.” He gripped the man’s hand harder than necessary and felt a small bit of satisfaction when he saw him wince. Miles offered Stephanie an angelic glance. “It seems our little secret isn’t so secret anymore.”
“No worries, Mr. Ma
sterson,” said Big Bad. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Stephanie said, playing her part perfectly. “The local spotlight is the last place I want to be, Chris.”
Chris? They were already on a first name basis? Miles had to refrain from hauling her away from the table to talk some sense into her. This guy oozed slimeball executive, state employee or not.
“Actually,” Evanston replied. “I think the local spotlight is exactly where you should be—at the governor’s charity dinner this Thursday.”
“Wow. Is that a job offer I hear?” asked Miles.
Evanston’s smile widened. “I’ve made the offer, just waiting for your fiancée to accept.”
Waiting on her? He looked down at Steph, who shifted in her seat. After how badly she said she wanted the job yesterday, why the hesitation?
“Sweetheart?” he asked through a tight-lipped smile. “Isn’t this what you said you wanted?”
“Miles, honey, I think we should talk about this a bit more before I officially accept.”
“Uh oh—sounds like the honeymoon’s over before it’s even begun.” Evanston chuckled as he set his linen napkin onto the table. “Tell you what—why don’t you two talk it over? I’d love for you both to be at the dinner, to help make a few connections before the fundraising campaign’s official kickoff. You could help support our cause and get some good publicity for the Checkerberry to boot. Stephanie, you have my card. Just let my secretary know by Thursday morning if you’ll be in attendance. And if you have any more ideas for the program, my cell number’s on the back. Call me day or night.”
Miles bit back a growl. Was this guy for real? Who tells a job applicant to call them day or night? A soft hand lit upon his own, the scent of citrus following the movement and scattering his thoughts.
“Thank you,” said Stephanie. “I really think you have some great ideas for the program, and I’m sure you’ll secure funding to help get it off the ground in no time.”
