Fiancee for Hire (Front and Center)

by Tawna Fenske

  “I’m sure I could find you a chair. Either that, or one of the bodyguards over there could get down on all fours and let you use him as a seat.

  “That’s okay,” Kelli said, popping the top on her soda and taking a long drink. “The pavement’s nice and warm. Besides, Hank’s bringing the car around in just a minute. I want to watch for him.”

  “Very well.” Stella seemed to hesitate, than sat down beside her on the curb. She looked a lot more dignified doing it than Kelli felt.

  Kelli took another sip of soda and thought about her day. No matter how she tried to focus on the work she’d done, her brain kept drifting back to Mac. She pictured his hands anchored above his head as he angled his hips up and—

  No. Stop thinking about that with his mother sitting beside you.

  She glanced at Stella, hoping the older woman couldn’t read her thoughts.

  Stella nodded. “You and MacArthur certainly seem compatible.”

  Kelli choked on her soda, the warmth in her cheeks only partly a result of her lack of oxygen. Stella whacked her on the back and looked out at the street.

  “Please, darling. Don’t pretend you weren’t having salacious thoughts about my son. It’s written all over your face every time you drift off like that. I have to say, I never really recognized the depth of your infatuation with him.”

  “Neither did I,” Kelli said. She took another sip of soda, not sure if that was the truth or another embellishment for the sake of their cover story. Either way, she felt guilty. Stella had been like another mother to her and it felt wrong not to tell her the whole truth.

  They sat in silence for a moment, and Kelli’s thoughts wandered back to that morning. To Mac’s sudden flight from the bedroom after his nightmare. What on earth had that been about?

  She looked at Stella and cleared her throat. “Sheri and Mac’s Aunt Sarah—she’s your sister, right?”

  The question was clearly out of the blue, and Stella turned to look at her with a curious expression. “Sarah? Yes, of course—she’s younger than me by three years. Why on earth do you ask?”

  “We’ve—uh—been working on the guest list for the wedding.” Kelli felt another pang of guilt, but pressed on, too late to turn back now. “I was trying to remember if I’d ever met any of your siblings or Mac and Sheri’s cousins.”

  “It’s possible,” she said. “Sarah’s son Carl is just a few days older than Grant, so we sometimes celebrated their birthdays together when you kids were younger. You used to come over sometimes for that, right?”

  Kelli nodded, remembering how she used to think of Sheri’s younger sibling as her own brother. She’d certainly never felt any of that brotherly affection for Mac, but then he’d always been older and more detached, wanting nothing to do with his younger sister or her friends.

  “Yes, Sarah’s had a rough go of it,” Stella said.

  “Oh?” Kelli tried to sound casual, but obviously this was the reason she’d broached the subject. “Sarah had a daughter who passed away, right?”

  Stella’s brows knitted together. “That’s right. Mac must’ve told you? It happened before Sheri was even born, but I’m surprised MacArthur would speak of it. He never wanted to discuss the subject.”

  Kelli tightened her grip on the soda can and tried to look casual. “He was five or six when Jillian died?”

  “That’s right.” Stella studied her a moment, assessing. Kelli kept her expression neutral, but her heart was slamming hard against her chest. Stella looked away, her gaze drifting over the horizon. “Mac just adored Jilly. She was two years older, and he used to follow her around like a puppy dog. They were such sweet little playmates.”

  Kelli nodded, trying to piece the story together. She considered playing along like she knew all the details, but it seemed pointless to pretend.

  Keep the story as close to the truth as possible. Isn’t that what she and Mac had agreed at the start of this mission?

  “Do you mind if I ask how she died?” Kelli asked. “Jillian, I mean. Mac mentioned her, of course, but like you said—he doesn’t like to talk about it much. I never wanted to pry for the whole story.”

  Stella turned and looked at her. Her steely-brown eyes were so much like Mac’s, it took Kelli’s breath away. She’d never seen eyes that could change so quickly from warm to icy. Right now, Stella’s were somewhere in between, studying Kelli with careful consideration.

  “It happened when she and Mac were playing together,” Stella began slowly. “They were out in the front yard while the grownups were all inside getting ready for a barbecue. Mac told us later that a man with a black baseball cap and a bushy mustache pulled up in a blue car and asked Jillian to help find his lost puppy.”

  Kelli swallowed, feeling sick over where the story was headed. She dug her fingers into the edge of the curb and looked at Stella. “She went?”

  Stella nodded, her eyes still trained on the horizon, but Kelli saw tears pooling at the edges. “She went,” Stella said softly. “Police found her body two weeks later in a forested area about five miles from the house. I always wondered—”

  She broke off there, her voice catching. Kelli reached out to touch the older woman’s hand. She hesitated, then closed her fingers around Stella’s. “You always wondered what?”

  “If MacArthur blamed himself. I told him it wasn’t his fault, of course. He was five years old, and there’s nothing he could have done. But he never wanted to talk about it. Not as a child, and not later as an adult.” She cleared her throat and shook her head slowly. “I do think what happened to Jillian did a lot to make him the man he is now. Fiercely protective of the people he loves. Hell-bent on controlling everything around him so nothing bad can ever happen to anyone he cares about. Childhood trauma has a way of shaping the adult you become.”

  Kelli blinked, surprised to realize her own eyes were filling with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Stella turned, her eyes piercing straight into Kelli’s soul. “I know you do, dear. I’ve known you since you were a ratty-haired little ragamuffin trying to hold your world together while your mama went crazy and your daddy went AWOL and everything fell apart around you. Why do you think I kept such close tabs on you as a girl?”

  Kelli swallowed back tears, not sure her voice would work. “Because I was your daughter’s best friend?”

  “That was part of it. But you were also a child whose views on love and loss and what it means to be a grownup were shaped by some pretty terrible things. And if my own son wouldn’t let me mother him through something like that, at least I could mother you.”

  Kelli didn’t even try to hold back the tears anymore. They were slipping down her cheeks in earnest now, big, sloppy, wet droplets that plopped onto her pink scrubs and left her sniffling like a sad little girl. She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, a futile effort that just left her with a smear of sticky cola on her cheek. Stella squeezed her other hand, then stood up, pulling Kelli with her. She wrapped her in a fierce hug, holding her like that for a few heartbeats before she let go and looked her in the eye.

  “I’m glad you finally decided to let someone in,” Stella murmured. “Someone besides Sheri and me. MacArthur is a good man. He won’t leave you the way your parents did. You know that, don’t you?”

  Kelli nodded, tears still flowing, too overwhelmed to say anything at all.

  “Come on,” Stella said, nodding to the street where the black Town Car sat idling with Hank standing at ease by the passenger door, his back discretely to them. When had he arrived? Kelli had failed to notice.

  Stella squeezed her hand again. “Let’s go home and eat ice cream and watch M*A*S*H reruns on Netflix.”

  Kelli nodded and let Stella tow her toward the car, the little girl inside her wishing stupidly to be a part of this family forever.

  Chapter Twelve

  After a long morning of tense phone calls and delicate negotiations for an arms deal in Saudi Arabia
, Mac wanted nothing more than to come home to a quiet house, a late lunch, a smoky scotch, and a good blowjob.

  He frowned, slamming the car door shut as he strode up the walkway. Since when had the blowjob factored into his plans for a solitary evening at home?

  Since your fake fiancée turned out to be more than a simple business associate.

  Goddammit, he couldn’t lose focus here. He had a deal to close and a girl to protect. It wouldn’t do to let sex addle his brain.

  Mac adjusted his sunglasses and pushed his way through the front door, ready to make a beeline for his favorite chair on the veranda. He was pretty sure he’d stashed that new bottle of Laphroaig in the liquor cabinet, and maybe Maria had left a bowl of those chili-roasted almonds with—

  “Hey, bro! Long time, no see!”

  Mac stopped in his tracks as his younger brother, Grant, marched through the foyer, beaming like a kid with a new bike. A really big kid with an even bigger new bike, probably a goddamn Harley.

  Grant’s military buzz cut looked shorter than normal, and though he wasn’t in uniform, everything about him screamed soldier. Grant grabbed him in a bear hug and Mac hugged back stiffly, surprised how thrilled he was to see his stupid kid brother. He clapped Grant on the back and tried to remember the last time they’d been in the same room together. Much too long.

  Mac squeezed him harder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Good to see you, too, asshole.” Grant pulled back and grinned at him.

  Mac grinned back. “Fuck off.”

  “Nothing like the sound of brotherly love between my sons.” They turned as their mom walked into the room, gesturing toward the soap dispenser at the kitchen sink. “Don’t think for a moment you’re too big for me to turn you over my knee or wash your mouths out with soap.”

  Grant reached out and grabbed their mom, pulling her into a one-armed hug as he jerked Mac close with the other arm. It was more physical affection than Mac generally cared for, but he had to admit there was something pleasant about the awkward three-way huddle.

  Mac’s mind veered a little at the word three-way, and he thought about Kelli and the handcuffs and everything else he’d like to do with her before this silly fake engagement was over.

  He pulled back from the hug, not sure he should be thinking about sex with his mom and baby brother so close. “Seriously, Grant—what are you doing here?”

  “I had a week of leave, so a couple buddies and I planned a surf trip to Cabo. When mom called to say you were getting married, I figured I was close enough to come see this for myself. Congratulations, bro.”

  “Uh—thanks. Thank you.”

  “What the hell, man? Were you planning to tell me?”

  Grant gave him a wink, his back turned discretely to their mother.

  He’s talked to Sheri. He knows this isn’t real, but he’s playing along.

  Mac felt unfathomably relieved, grateful both for the extra layer to his cover and for the extra set of eyes to watch over Kelli. He knew he could count on his brother for both discretion and protection.

  “Sorry about that,” Mac said. “We—uh—fell for each other, and we wanted to surprise everyone. Speaking of which, where’s my beautiful bride?”

  “She’s out on the veranda on her laptop,” his mom said. “I asked her where the two of you had registered, and she told me you hadn’t taken care of that. We have a lot of family that will be asking me those questions, MacArthur.”

  He frowned. “What questions?”

  “About gifts, of course.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on, you need to be part of this, too.”

  “I do?”

  His mother shook her head in exasperation and began towing him toward the back of the house. Mac followed, shooting a longing glance at the liquor cabinet and his favorite chair on the other side of the patio. Resistance was futile with his mother, so there was no point in putting this off.

  Grant fell into step behind them, laughing his ass off.

  His mom dragged him outside, where Kelli was parked at a patio table staring blankly at a laptop screen. A sunny curl had fallen over one cheek, and she wore a pink-and-white striped dress with little ties on the shoulders. He thought about grabbing one of those ties and tugging, baring her shoulders and breasts for him to devour.

  Maybe not with his mom and brother watching.

  Kelli looked up as he approached and gave him a pleading look.

  Help, she mouthed and Mac felt a twinge in his groin at the memory of where that mouth had been.

  Stella smiled and rested her hand on Kelli’s shoulder. “Are you finding what you need on the Williams-Sonoma site, dear?”

  “I don’t really know where to start,” Kelli replied, giving Stella a bewildered look. “I’m not really much of a cook.”

  “Well how about the two of you sit down together and make some selections?”

  Not waiting for a response, she pushed Mac into a chair beside his befuddled looking bride. Kelli leaned up and kissed him, a chaste peck that still managed to send all the blood rushing from his brain to his groin.

  “Okay then,” Kelli said, turning back to the laptop. She scrolled the mouse down the page, her eyes widening as she clicked something silver and oblong.

  “Wow, they have vibrators on this site? I thought it was just kitchen crap. Check it out, it has a stainless-steel drive shaft, fifteen speeds, a control grip, and a special setting for whipping and emulsifying.” She looked at Mac, a salacious grin on her sweet face. “I’m not sure what emulsifying is, but I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

  “I’m game.”

  Behind him, Grant snorted. Their mother made a tsking sound and leaned down to peer at the screen. “Emulsifying is the blending of two immiscible liquids.”

  Mac shrugged and looked at Kelli. “I’m down with that.”

  “You two are hopeless,” his mom said, smacking him on the back of the head. “I’m talking about things like oil for salad dressing—you’re looking at an immersion blender, dear.”

  Grant burst out laughing, while Kelli shrugged and clicked off the page, her cheeks pinkening only a little as Stella watched the screen over her shoulder. Mac reached for the mouse, grazing her hand as he took control of browsing.

  “What is this thing with the probes and the timer?” he asked, clicking a photo. “It looks like a bomb-making device. That could be handy.”

  “It’s a meat thermometer,” Kelli said, her eyes scanning the words on the page. She laughed and looked up at him with another salacious smile. “It does say it has a sturdy meat probe.”

  Grant was practically rolling on the ground, and Kelli reached under the table to give Mac a discrete squeeze through his pants, mouthing the words meat probe as his mom wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and made a halfhearted effort to appear composed and unamused.

  “How about we look at knives,” Mac suggested, clicking the mouse again. “This Shun Kaji Hollow-Ground Santoku knife looks impressive. Check this out, the blade is constructed with a core of SG-2 powdered steel clad in a true Damascus layer of forged nickel and stainless steel.”

  “Wow,” Grant said, stepping in behind them. “Is that a ten-inch blade on that bad boy? You could do some serious damage with that.”

  “How about a pot rack?” Kelli offered, wrestling the mouse away from him. She clicked a few links before she found what she wanted. “This one has a hammered-steel grid and frame with eighteen straight hoots and two extension hooks. It looks like a very nice rack.”

  “It does look like a very nice rack,” Mac agreed, staring down the front of her dress.

  His mother smacked him on the back of the head again, and Mac tore his eyes off Kelli’s rack to look back at the monitor. The screen displayed some sort of bizarre knife with a long, curved blade and a thick wooden handle.

  “I’m not sure what a Double Mezzaluna is,” he said, “but judging from the blade on that thing, I wouldn’t want to meet someone carrying it
in a dark alley.”

  “No worries, you’d just whip out that stainless-steel bagel cutter and lop the guy’s nuts off,” Grant offered, pointing at another pane on the monitor. “Or how about that egg slicer down there at the bottom? That thing would make a great weapon if you put the right body part in there.”

  Kelli stood up and flipped the laptop shut, clapping her hands together as she smiled at Stella. “How about we call it a day on the wedding registry, shall we?”

  Mac nodded and got to his feet. “Considering all we’ve done is look at sex toys, bomb-making supplies, and weapons, I think our work here is done.”

  Stella shook her head and swatted at him again. Mac could tell she was trying to look disdainful, but she wasn’t even close. Her fondness for all three of them was apparent in the way she looked from him to Kelli to Grant and back to him again.

  “You two are perfect for one another, you know that?” she said. “Horrible, but absolutely perfect for each other. Speaking of which, have you given any thought to engagement photos?

  “Engagement photos?” Mac frowned. “I think we’d rather keep this more low-key.”

  His mother put an arm around Kelli and gave a motherly smile. “Don’t be silly. Engagement photos don’t have to be anything fancy. Just something simple to include with your announcements.”

  Kelli shrugged and looked at him with those big turquoise eyes. “I can ask our wedding planner about photographers. I guess we ought to do that soon, huh?”

  There was a tinge of guilt in her expression, and Mac felt his gut twist. Choosing a fake fiancée with close ties to his family had seemed like a smart idea when the whole thing was confined to a few secretive weeks in a foreign country. But having his mom here made things tricky. He knew Kelli hated lying to his her, and he wasn’t wild about having another loved one in the middle of a dangerous situation.

  How the fuck had this gotten so complicated?

  “I have an idea,” his mom said, jarring him from his grim thoughts. “Grant, you’ve always had a talent for photography. Didn’t you just say you got a fancy new camera?”