Forbes grinned sheepishly. “Ah, Miss Gemma, you know I don’t mean no harm.”
I kept frowning, but I couldn’t help it. A smile broke through. These old timers really didn’t mean harm, they had just been brought up in a different time, and their habits were hard to break. I wouldn’t tolerate the same from the younger ones.
“Okay.” I pretended to cuff him. “Know better for next time.”
I walked back to the kitchen, ready to check on the apple pies in the oven.
It had certainly been a learning curve working at the ranch. I had had to dust off all the old favorite recipes that the ranch hands demanded. Mostly variations on steak…chicken fried steak, bison steak, beef steak, Rocky Mountain oysters. I didn’t mind, I loved all the old stuff just as much as they did. It was Mumma’s home cooking, pure and simple.
I had been trying to do something different at my bakery, though.
Maybe too different. The good folk of Clear Creek hadn’t appreciated my chouqettes and Portuguese tarts so much. They just liked their regular bakery fare. I had good business for a while when they were checking me out and because they were a loyal bunch, but it had bottomed out after only a year. I had to close a few days before Christmas. Not even the holiday rush could get me through.
It had been depressing. I had sulked for a while, then dusted myself off and started looking for other work. I had to look to the future. Old Mr Starling had heard I was looking, and offered me the chance to be head cook on his ranch.
It was a good job, great pay, nice lifestyle. But I hesitated.
I knew in my heart it was because of Lance.
I hadn’t seen him in years, not since Jack and I had broken up. And I hadn’t seen much of him prior, either. It was like he wanted to keep his distance, which hurt. It hurt like hell. Shoot, we had once been so close, we had almost…
I shook my head, trying not to burn myself on the pies as I got them out of the oven. I couldn’t afford to get distracted in the kitchen – I could lose a finger, scald myself, anything. You had to concentrate all the time when you were head cook.
“Jessie, could you start cutting these up?” I instructed to my assistant. The girl smiled, grabbing a knife and attacking the pies like they were about to leap up and bite her.
Pies out, I leaned against the kitchen bench, staring out at the three long wooden tables where the ranch hands were wolfing down their lunch. I liked it here, I really did. But Lance was coming home today, and I was nervous. I had managed to keep busy all morning, but the thought kept pushing its way to the top of my mind.
What would he be like? And would he tell me anything about what had happened to Jack?
I was over Jack, I really was. But I was still shocked and sad when I heard he had been killed. We had a long history. We were high school sweethearts. He had taken me to the prom. I had thought then that it was forever. You know, the white dress, the picket fence, two kids in the back of the pick-up. Sitting beside each other in the retirement home.
But Jack had changed. He started to get short with me, and irritated with my emails. When he was on his missions, it was the way we mostly communicated.
Then I heard the rumors, whispers at first, then stronger. Of how he would play around when he was on shore leave. Sometimes I only knew after the fact that he had been home at all.
I put two and two together. I mightn’t have been top of the class in math, but I could figure that out.
“Gemma?”
I swung around. Jessie was standing there, awaiting orders.
“Start bringing them out. I’ll get the other bowls.”
I walked out to the tables with my trolley, stacking the dirty dishes onto it and sharing a smile and a laugh with the men. But I did it with half a mind. The other half was thinking about him. Lance.
Butterflies started rearing up in my stomach. You are being stupid, I told myself. Lance doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. He has made that clear. Just do your job, keep your head down, and keep out of his way.
Wheeling the trolley back into the kitchen, I started stacking the dishwashers. It was Jessie’s job, really, but I never wanted to play Big Boss.
Lunch over, I grabbed a bowl of chilli for myself and a cup of coffee, heading to the lookout over the mountains.
It was my favorite spot. White tipped mountains and eagles hovering high in the distance. I had to admit I loved being out here, on the vast land. The bakery in Clear Creek, nestled amongst the town gossips, had never felt as good.
I sipped my coffee, cursing slightly as the scalding liquid hit my lips.
He would be here in a couple of hours. I had to finish my lunch quickly, finish the cleaning and prep for tonight’s dinner, then vamoose. If I wanted to keep my job here, I knew I would run into him. But every fibre of my being was telling me to play it safe and run while I still could.
Lance. My first true love, before Jack. It was still a mystery to me how Jack had come between us, how Jack and I had become the item, not me and Lance. It had always been Lance, before that. Lance was the one that I dreamed of, Lance was my first kiss, Lance had been my first everything…
I shivered slightly. I could still feel the touch of his skin, and the feel of his lips.
He had become even more attractive after he joined the SEALs, his naturally athletic frame had just become more buff. He looked like a Greek god, for Christ’s sake. I tried not to look at him too much when I did occasionally see him, it was bittersweet. And I knew there couldn’t be anything between us, anymore, after Jack. The Bro code, and all that.
Shit. I shielded my eyes against the sun, looking down the track. Was that the sound of Betsy?
It was. I was trapped.
It pulled up. Hank emerging from the driver’s side.
Then slowly, slowly. A long leg climbed out of the passenger’s side, followed by another. His tawny hair, buzz cut to an inch of its life, sparkled in the sun.
His eyes found mine, those baby blues that had always left me breathless.
“Gemma.” He wasn’t smiling. “It’s been too long.”
***
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Excerpt of Fake Fiancée billionaire boss
Chapter 1
Everything would be fine. At worst, she would end up laughing and assume he was pulling her leg or at best she would take the offer without another question.
Justin Dunne's workday was coming to an end. Any minute now his assistant Jennifer would be coming to let him know she’s heading home for the day. And when she did, he would conjure up the nerve to ask her what he had wanted to ask her all day. The worst part is that he didn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times he had to rephrase his question. He suddenly felt small in his large office, dreading what he was about to do. But what was the worst that could happen? If she said no, she would just leave and show up to work the next day like nothing happened. Maybe. She could also assume the worst and think this was his way of sexually harassing her.
But if she said yes, his plan would work perfectly.
Would this count as sexual harassment? He contemplated this as he sat at his desk drumming his fingers impatiently on its surface. Irritated he stood up and walked around his desk to sit on the edge, but no pose could erase the sense of doom that lingered on the border of his mind. He took a deep steadying breath and said, “Everything would be fine, just breath, ask her what you want and let the chips fall where they may.”
There was a slight knock on his door, and he quickly moved around to sit behind his desk again, trying his best to look at ease.
“Come in!” he called and cleared his throat. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
With her purse in hand and her coat dangling over her arm, she walked into his office and smiled, and J
ustin stood up. It was not an out of the ordinary gesture, since he was taught etiquette by his mother from the day he was able to stand. You always stood up in the presence of a lady. But right now, he felt awkward to say the least.
"Mr. Dunne, I’m heading home now, is there anything else you need me to handle before I go?”
He nodded and reached for a pile of files, then motioned for her to sit, “Actually there is…” he started, but his courage hung on a thread over a gaping chasm waiting to swallow it whole.
“Of course,” she said, her smile fading ever so slightly.
He couldn’t blame her, of all the staff; she’s always the one who stayed behind to tie up his loose ends. Over time he had grown so used to it that he had taken her for granted. Sooner or later she was going to get fed up or find the love of her life who will insist she worked her nine to five day and focus on a relationship, or worse a family.
"How have you been?” he asked wanting to kick himself, he never asks her how she is, why start now?
Jennifer looked at him quizzically as she tilted her head, “Is there something wrong?”
Instead of sitting down, he rounded his desk and walked past her and headed for his personal mini-bar. Which, low and behold, thanks to Jennifer, was always stocked with drinks. If he wanted to he could live in his office and not have any reason to leave. He had a closet full of clean work clothes, a bathroom, a bar and a single phone call could have any meal of his choice brought to his office.
"Drink?" he asked, as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.
The bar was near a floor to ceiling window that gave him a magnificent view of the city when he looked out of it; just one of the perks of having a penthouse office. The view was breathtaking but the vertigo-inducing height didn’t help his trepidation right then.
Justin regarded her where she sat with her legs crossed causing her skirt to ride up slightly, it wasn’t not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to catch his eye and distract him without any intention. He was professional but he was not blind. Jennifer's hair was a rich chestnut tone, with lighter brown highlights throughout. She was of average height and even in heels, she was still quite a bit shorter than him. Being on the swimming team in high school and college had given her an athletic build, which emphasized a generous chest that her conservative work blouses did not hide.
* * *
Jennifer sat at the desk watching her boss's back as he poured himself a drink.
"No, I'm fine thank you, but what is this about sir?" she asked again. She was sure that she had done everything he expected to the book, and if she had missed anything at all, surely he would follow the proper procedure and let HR handle any enquiries. In fact, he had never appeared so casual and so completely strange all at once. Mr Dunne was always in control, the epitome of sheer class and caliber. Something serious must be on his mind. And she had a sinking feeling it somehow involved her. And that she might possibly find it unpleasant.
With his back turned against her, she took a moment to admire him; it was what every woman in the entire building did when he wasn’t watching. His jacket, vest and tie had been discarded on the leather sofa against the wall, and he had rolled his sleeves up. He had thick, sinewy forearms, which were certainly not built from hours of pencil pushing and corporate meetings. He worked out, once again, no secret. Come to think of it, she knew almost every detail of his life, from his favorite coffee to his preferred restaurant. She knew he had his own private gym and he had his own personal trainer. On that level, he was an open book.
She worried her lip as he turned around, and feigned absolute patience as she waited for him to tell her what this was all about.
"You know about the deal with Pryor?" he said walking slowly past her as he rounded the desk.
"He's the one you want to buy the property from in Midtown," she responded and re-crossed her legs.
"That's right. He's shown additional interest in becoming an investor with us."
"That's fantastic!”
She was excited for him, but not quite sure where the whole cloak and dagger routine was headed. If he wanted a scheduled meeting with Pryor or whatever else, he could easily have asked her to do it in the morning. It wasn't that she didn't take her work seriously but she had a life, and that was in her one bedroom apartment, with her cat Ratchet having a love affair with her favorite TV series. Her workday was over and she couldn't wait to go home and kick her shoes off.
"It is. I'm having him over to my house for dinner to discuss the deal.” He paused, swirling the rich amber liquid around his glass.
She shifted in the chair and set her purse down, "Do you want me to schedule it? Get in contact with him? Send a car over?"
"No, none of that, I actually have a favor to ask you. You see Jennifer... there’s no easy way to say this…”
"What is it?" she asked, mulling over his very strange behavior.
"Well, I invited Mr Pryor for dinner on Friday, to talk about the deal and to introduce him to my fiancée."
He was engaged?! That morsel of information was a surprise. And somewhat deflating, though Jennifer cared not to examine that feeling right now. He never mentioned his fiancée in all her time working as his PA and now out of the blue, he was going to host a dinner and introduce her to a business partner. She clearly underestimated him; he wasn’t just a drab of a boss married to his work. He had a heart. She couldn’t wait to tell the others and watch their hopes and dreams shatter into a billion pieces.
She looked at him curiously and tilted her head, "I’m sorry Mr Dunn, but how does this involve me, do you need me to send a car for her?"
“That’s just the problem,” he said and tossed his drink back.
“I’m confused, you’re hosting a dinner and your fiancée will be attending, how is that a problem? And what is it that you need me to do exactly?”
"There is no fiancée," he said and dropped down on his chair, extending his hands behind his head, “There never was.”
Confused hardly covered it. He had no fiancée. This baffled the shit out of her, if he had no fiancée why then make arrangements like that?
"Then who is hosting the dinner with you? You want me to call Pyor and cancel it, or postpone at least?" she asked curiously.
"I’m hoping that it would not come to that, which is where you come in. What I want Jennifer, is for you to host the dinner with me."
Jennifer sat for a moment, searching his face for any mirth. There was none. If anything, the deadpan expression masking his face showed just how serious he was. His stormy blue eyes were filled with an electric charge capable of lighting up New York City. Jennifer panicked, suddenly realizing he was serious. His usually impeccably styled black hair was tousled like he'd been stuck in the ventilation system.
"Excuse me?" she asked tentatively as she clutched her purse in her hands, certain that she had cracked her cellphone screen. But wanting to clarify what he was implying before she jumped to the obviously ridiculous conclusion her brain was insisting on.
He leaned forward, and steepled his fingers together, "I want to introduce you as my fiancée.”
If it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face, she would have burst out laughing. It was an absolute outrageous idea, one that was clearly not well thought through.
"With all due respect sir..." she started.
"I know it’s a tall order, but..."
Jennifer huffed, “No, a tall order is expecting a republican to marry a democrat, or sending an inexperienced journalist to a war-torn country. What you’re asking is completely absurd and inappropriate,” she ranted.
She was beyond counting her words and running them through a filter in her mind. What he was asking her was to lie and cheat.
"I know it's a lot to ask…" he started and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It's not a lot, it's completely wild. It's crazy. You are asking me to lie, and no matter what the reason, it’s unjust and dishonorable,” she said angrily.
/>
"I’m willing to pay you to pretend to be my fiancée for one night," he said without pausing for a breath.
He was simply relentless.
"That doesn't make it better. ‘Hey Jennifer, I need you to pretend to be my fiancée so this rich man can like me', was the absolute last thing I expected to be asked today!" she exclaimed.
Justin held back a laugh because she had deepened her voice mockingly to go with her imitation of him. Those hazel eyes sparked with fire and she was clearly upset.
"What kind of woman do you think I am?" she asked, a pink- tinted blush washing over her cheeks.
"You’re clearly misunderstanding the whole objective,” he said calmly.
"There are women out there, who are professionals at this kind of thing, women who you can pay to accompany…"
He cut in, "I'm not hiring a prostitute Jennifer. You think I didn't consider all of my options before coming to you? My intentions were not to embarrass you but I’m asking you a favor as your employer. I need your help. Please."
He was officially begging, something he never thought he would be reduce to.
"Don't you have an ex or a friend or someone else who could help you out?"
"None that wouldn't use something like this against me. They will all have their own agendas and I need this to be completely discreet. We already work together and we are comfortable around each other, you know almost everything about me, and I wouldn't ask you if I thought you couldn't handle it."
He saw the cogs in her brain turning as she mulled over his proposal, and he mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that she would agree. He was expecting far more from her than any employer should, but he had his balls in a twist and if he didn’t show up with a fiancée, the deal would be grounded.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead as she stood up and paced the floor, “So what does it all entail?”
"You need to simply play the part of my fiancée for a while. We'll host a dinner and stay together until the deal with Pryor is signed, sealed and delivered,” he stated as he tucked his hands in his pockets.
Seal'd to Her: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance Page 59
