by Cat Johnson
“How do you know so much?”
He laughed. “I dated a lot of women who like to shop.”
She smirked. “And do you enjoy shopping for ladies clothing?”
“Not generally, no. And don’t think that’s your way out of today, because it’s not. I’m finding I do enjoy shopping for you. Probably because you hate it so.”
“I really do,” Jen whispered so the salespeople wouldn’t hear.
“Yes, I see. So I suppose I should warn you after this we need to get you a new suitcase, a coat and gloves.”
“I have a—”
“I’m sure you do. I’m buying you a new one.” Bran brushed his hand over her cheek. “But when we get it all done, we can go have lunch. Where would you like to eat?”
“I know the perfect place.” She may have to agree with his choice in clothing, but she was going to pick the food, and it wouldn’t cost as much as a monthly mortgage payment either.
He smiled. “All right. I look forward to it.”
Jen knew Bran enjoyed dragging her out of her comfort zone. She’d see how he did out of his. The hotdog truck in the park, famous for its franks smothered in chili and cheese, would be the test of how well he rolled with things when they didn’t go as he expected. She couldn’t wait.
Chapter 3
“You ready?” Bran held his hand against the small of Jen’s back as she, frozen in place, stared at the imposing façade of what she could only call a mansion.
“No.” Her heart thundered.
“What’s wrong?” His voice bathed Jen with sincerity and concern, but that didn’t negate that just over forty-eight hours ago he’d been a complete stranger. One whom she was about to pretend to be dating, all while she lied to everyone in his family.
“We should have gone over things,” she said.
His sandy-colored brows drew low. “Did you memorize the information we printed out for you? The backstory of how we met and our relationship to date?”
“Yes.” She’d committed every word to memory last night, because there was no way she would have been able to sleep.
“Then you’re ready. It’s just dinner. Two, three hours tops and we’ll be out of here.” His gaze dropped to take her in from the new hairstyle he’d paid for, down to the high-heeled leather ankle boots they’d gotten along with the wool slacks and cashmere sweater. “You look amazing by the way. Absolute perfection.”
“Thank you, but—”
“Jen, relax. I inherited my appreciation of the female figure from Granddaddy. He won’t be able to see past your beauty, or your kick-ass body, long enough to question our story. I promise.”
She felt her cheeks heat when his passing glance became more heated, stalling on the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast. Jen swallowed hard as this began to feel like much more than a platonic financial agreement.
“I’m not beautiful.” Pretty maybe, on a good day when she hid her flaws and she wasn’t carrying the ten extra pounds that were the bane of her existence.
“I beg to differ.” He ran his hands beneath the lapels of the winter white coat he’d insisted on buying even though she’d said that color was impractical.
He dipped his head low and hovered just a moment before his lips touched hers. Warm, soft, gentle, and totally unexpected. Jen hadn’t thought her heart could beat any faster than it had been already. She was wrong.
Bran pulled back just far enough to say, “You have to relax.”
“It’s hard with you kissing me and all.”
“We’re supposed to be dating. When I do this inside, in front of my family, it has to look natural.”
Jen tried to calm her rapid breathing. “You’re right.”
“Good. I’m glad you think so.” A smile curved those lips that remained so close to hers. “So, shall we try that one more time before we go in? This time, with a little more enthusiasm on your part.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Bran took her mouth again, but this time the kiss wasn’t so chaste. He moved his hands to her back, pressing her close against him. Tilting his head, he changed the angle of the kiss.
When he nipped at her lower lip with his teeth, it was harder to remember this was practice, especially when she realized at some point she’d wrapped her arms around his waist. She held him as tightly as he held her. His hard length pressed between them was a physical reminder that, legal contract or not, Bran was a healthy red-blooded male with the body and desires to match.
He pulled back and dragged in a shaky breath, looking, for the first time, as unsettled as she felt. His golden brown eyes met and held hers. “We’d better go in.”
Given a choice, Jen would have rather stayed outside and continued kissing Bran. When he reached for the knob and swung the big front door in, she knew she wasn’t going to be given a choice.
"Hang on." She pulled a lipstick out of the purse and swiped it on with one quick stroke on each lip. "Okay. Ready."
"Good." His fingers wrapped around hers, he took a single step. When she didn't immediately follow, Bran glanced back at her. “Come on.”
He said it with a hint of amusement and cajoling in his voice, as if he were coaxing a dog into the vet’s office.
Dragging her feet wasn’t going to prolong the inevitable. Jen braced herself mentally and physically and stepped into a place that seemed so foreign it might as well have been Wonderland and she Alice. Her one tether to reality was the hold Bran had on her hand. As he closed the door behind them with a loud click of finality, she squeezed his fingers. He stopped, mid-step and glanced down at their intertwined hands before meeting her gaze. He sent her a smile before they were on the move again, their footsteps on the marble floor echoing throughout the foyer.
“We’re here.” As they moved, hand in hand, through a doorway, Bran announced their arrival and Jen feared she might just pass out.
“Humph. And on time for once.”
Bran’s hand tensed in hers. “Grandfather, I’d like you to meet someone very special to me. This is Jen.”
Inwardly, Jen’s brain spun. Bran’s grandfather was a man, just like any other, but with one exception—he had probably millions, no, make that billions of dollars. She’d served rich men at the club, but they’d never made her this nervous. Of course, she hadn’t been lying to them and pretending to date their grandsons at the time.
Outwardly, Jen pulled away from Bran’s grasp, stepped forward and extended one hand. “Sir, so nice to meet you.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Robert Welles was an imposing man and so too was his handshake. His grip was so hard and all consuming it almost made Jen fear he’d be able detect their deception from his touch alone. But of course that was ridiculous. In spite of his mountain of money he was still just a man. And if she’d learned anything in her two days working at the country club, it was that these men tended to be so self-absorbed they rarely saw what was right in front of them. That could work in her favor now.
The older man’s gaze cut from her to Bran before he released her hand. “Strange I haven’t ever heard Bran speak of dating a woman named Jen. Then, all of a sudden, he’s on the phone asking if he can bring his girlfriend to dinner. When did you two meet?”
Bran and his mastermind sidekick Jon had decided on a story. Bran stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Not too long ago. Remember the opening of the new exhibit at the museum I attended last month? Jen was there. We met that night and we’ve been seeing each other since. In fact, recently, we’ve barely spent a night away from each other.”
She tried to control her reaction to that statement, which made it sound like they’d been humping like bunnies. Bran pulled her closer to his hip, reinforcing the illusion. Under Granddaddy’s scrutiny, Jen forced a smile and gazed up at Bran like a smitten girlfriend would. They had to protect this illusion, even if it did make her sound like a sex maniac.
“That’s right. Inseparable.” Jen turned back toward
the older man to gauge his reaction as he watched her from beneath snowy brows.
Bran dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I want her to meet everyone, so I invited Jen to the party. Since it always breaks up so late, I also asked her to stay here with me tomorrow night. I hope that’s all right.”
She’d agreed to Bran’s idea they spend the night, to reinforce the illusion of their whirlwind romance and eventual fake engagement, but that had been before meeting his grandfather.
A grey-haired woman entered the room. Jen assumed she must be the lucky lady married to scary Granddaddy. She moved to her husband’s side and gave Jen the once over. “Hello, Bran, and nice to meet you, Jen. I’ll admit, we are a bit surprised since Bran never brings his dates home, but we’re thrilled. Really. It won’t be an imposition at all to have you spend the night. Plenty of room. Isn’t that right, dear?”
The old man raised one brow. “Since it appears they’ll be sharing a bedroom, no, space wouldn’t be a consideration even if we didn’t have a dozen damn bedrooms in this house.”
“Nine, dear. Three are in the staff quarters. You shouldn’t count those,” she corrected.
As the surreal bedroom discussion went on, panic hit Jen. She should have realized there was a possibility they’d be put in the same bedroom, but to hear it confirmed by Bran’s grandparents bumped the sham relationship to the next level, especially in light of how she and Bran had both gotten into the kissing earlier.
“You okay?” Bran asked low. The warmth of his breath drifted against her ear and sent a shiver through her.
“Fine.” The word came out sounding shorter than she’d intended.
“You sure about that?” Bran raised a brow.
No, but she would be. There was too much at stake. Jen nodded.
“All right.” He accepted her answer, just as a servant entered the room carrying a tray very much like the one Jen had been hired by the country club to carry just days ago.
Bran turned to Jen. He took off his own coat and reached for hers. “Wine?”
“God, yes.”
He smiled and turned toward the server, handing the man both of their coats. “A glass of the Chateuneuf du Pape for both of us, please.”
As his grandfather got into a discussion with the servant about which scotch he’d like, Bran squeezed Jen’s fingers. “Just a few more hours, then you and I will be out of here.”
And alone with Bran, which, after their kiss, possibly worried her more than being here with his grandfather.
*
Bran hadn’t even gotten his wine yet when a servant appeared in the doorway. “The first course has been laid on the table, ma’am.”
“Wonderful.” Bran’s grandmother turned to him. “Shall we all go inside?”
Bran raised a brow and glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. “So early?”
“Never too early for Coquilles St. Jacques.” His grandmother smiled, which made Bran more suspicious. “Come, dear.”
His grandfather glanced up from his seat. “I haven’t had my scotch yet.”
“Have it in the dining room, dear.” She smiled wider and Bran’s grandfather, grumbling, hoisted himself out of the chair. The two walked ahead into the dining room.
Next to him, Jen held his arm tight, and when the older couple had cleared the doorway, she whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“We’re being rushed out.” Bran had planned on spending as little time as possible here tonight, since it was the first time—a kind of trial run—for Jen.
Now it was apparent that his grandmother had the same idea to cut the evening short. She wanted them fed and gone. The question was why? Had he erred in not creating a fake background for Jen? It had seemed extra risky when her real background was adequate. She wouldn’t qualify for club membership, but still, she came from a family filled with firmly middle class, but respected academics.
Jen still clung to his forearm with a death grip. “What do you mean rushed out?”
“My grandmother has never served the Friday evening meal before eight o’clock.”
The grandfather clock in the corner began its long run of chimes, indicating the hour. Jen glanced at it. “It’s seven.”
“Exactly. Come on. Let’s go in.” He took her hand and glanced down to find Jen looking paralyzed by fear. She wouldn’t get through dinner like this. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”
When she didn’t look convinced, Bran decided to shock her out of it. He bent and claimed her mouth, not holding back as he had before. This time he did what he’d been tempted to do since first seeing her at the club, he parted her lips with his tongue and plunged inside.
She drew in a sharp breath. He loved how she reacted to everything he did to her. He couldn’t help but imagine her reaction to some of the more creative things he’d like to do to her.
Thrusting his tongue against hers in a wild dance, he kissed her thoroughly. He tasted her lipstick. It would be all over his mouth by the time he was done. He didn’t care. Hands on her hips, he pulled her closer. She came to him without question and his mind conjured all the orders he’d like to give her and have her follow. Chief among them, to drop her pants and bend over Granddaddy’s armchair.
Before he worked himself into such a state that he wouldn’t be able to face his grandparents, Bran pulled back. He gazed down at Jen’s flushed face. Her moist lips and slightly unfocused eyes made her look much more like a woman in love, or at least in lust, and less like a frightened girl hired to throw off the grandparents. Perfect. His kiss had worked as planned, and honestly, it was not at all unpleasant a task for Bran. He’d gladly keep her looking just like this and enjoy doing it.
The polite clearing of a throat from the doorway had Bran glancing up. A servant stood, eyes averted. “Sir. Right this way.”
“Yes, thank you. We’re coming.” Bran smiled when Jen blushed.
Being caught in a private moment by the servants would seal the deal. He felt the intimacy as she reached up and wiped a thumb across his lips. It would appear natural to the staff member still hovering in the doorway waiting to escort them to the dining room. The action of a girlfriend toward her boyfriend. Bran couldn’t have planned it better.
Any family worth its fortune got their information from the staff. After tonight, he might just pull this sham off. That had him walking into the dining room with renewed enthusiasm.
The sight of the massive mahogany dining table, much too long for just the four of them, had Jen hesitating inside the doorway until Bran gave her a tiny push. She’d probably grown up in a normal house, where the family ate at a table that didn’t have twenty-four matching chairs.
Strange, but he envied her that—for about a second before Bran reminded himself to be careful what he wished for. His grandfather could very well yank all this splendid excess away. This plan had to work.
As the servant moved from Jen to him, pouring the deep red wine into their glasses, Bran’s grandmother zeroed in on Jen. “So, Jennifer, what do you do?”
Jen glanced up at the question, wide-eyed. They’d covered this in the paperwork, yet still she looked nervous. She swallowed and said, “I just graduated and I’ve been looking for a position in my field ever since. It’s a tough job market out there right now.”
“Ah, so you’re saying you’re unemployed.” The judgment was very clear in his grandfather’s tone.
“Yes. For now.” Tension radiated off Jen and Bran knew why. She wasn’t lazy and that was his grandfather’s insinuation.
Jen obviously had a good work ethic. Strong enough she was willing to serve drinks rather than be unemployed, until he’d forced her to quit. Of course, Jen couldn’t tell them that, so she sat there while they judged, but not for long. Bran had worked his ass off today and had managed to secure her a position at one of the organizations his foundation administered.
“There’s something Jen doesn’t know yet.” He turned in his seat and took hold of her hand. “I made a few phone calls a
nd I found a position for you.”
Her eyes opened wide. “You did?”
“I did. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure something would come of it, but they said you can come in any time next week and set up a start date.”
“Oh my God.” Her eyes took on the shine of tears held in check. Even the scowling presence of his grandparents hadn’t squelched her happiness.
Bran let out a short laugh. “Don’t get too excited. The pay is crap, but I remembered you saying you’d be willing to volunteer to build your resume, so I figured this would be acceptable.”
“Acceptable? Of course, it is.”
“Well, it seems you’re already reaping the benefits of your relationship with my grandson, and only after a month too.” Bran’s grandfather snorted.
Next to him, Jen’s shoulders sagged. Bran set his jaw, offended on her behalf. It would serve his stuck up, judgmental grandfather right if he went through with it. Forget about the fake engagement. What if he actually married Jen? Why the hell not? He was attracted to her, and judging by that kiss, she was to him. It would piss his family off to no end, which was a good enough reason on its own.
Just the thought of the shock that would be on the faces of his relatives when he told them was enough to make him want to drop to one knee here and now. But he wouldn’t. Bran would bide his time. Wait for the perfect moment.
He squeezed Jen’s hand one more time and treated her to a smile of encouragement. He nodded toward the dish in front of her. “You have to try our cook’s specialty. It’s the one reason I come to dinner here.”
His grandfather’s brow rose while his grandmother’s eyes widened. Oh, yeah. That reaction was only a preview of the one he’d get when he announced their engagement, and Bran couldn’t wait.
