by Girard, Dara
“Can you imagine what it was like for me to say, ‘I wish you joy’ while I had her ring in my pocket?” he said playfully tugging on the puppy’s ears.
Brenna shrugged. “It’s for the best.”
Hunter ignored her. “She threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. She told me how happy she was that I understood, that I didn’t fly into a jealous rage or something. She knows me better than that. I never get jealous and I do not rage.”
Brenna raised her brows and glanced at the door. “Really? You did a pretty good imitation.”
Hunter dismissed her comments with a wave of his hand. “That was nothing.”
“So what happened next? Did you return the ring?”
“Then I met Michael. I admit to wanting to rip out his teeth.” He raised his hand. “Not because I was angry, but purely because he kept smiling at me with a smugness I found annoying. I find that kind of attitude with most computer programmers. They’re experts in one finite area and consider themselves geniuses.”
Brenna grinned. “You’re beginning to sound jealous.”
Hunter picked up a framed picture of her holiday in England from her desk. She felt the urge to slap his hand away, but resisted. It would be as useless as a flea trying to fell a brick wall. “Nonsense. I should be applauded for maintaining my composure.” He groaned. “Two years of planning the perfect proposal destroyed due to impulse.”
Brenna licked her lower lip. “Yes, well. While I understand how therapeutic this little ‘chat’ must be for you, it doesn’t explain why you are here.”
He set the photograph down. “I need a replacement. I have an event coming up in three weeks where I’d planned to announce my engagement. The company I work for strongly encourages management to be married. It shows stability. I’ve assured everyone, my grandfather included, that I would introduce my fiancée there. It’s expected and would be humiliating for me to show up without someone.”
“But wouldn’t they be expecting Janice?”
He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “No, I never made it clear to them specifically who I was going to marry.” The puppy rolled onto it’s back exposing its tummy. Hunter scratched it and the puppy wiggled in delight.
“But you were dating Janice long enough to want to marry her?”
“I told you we had an understanding. There were others, but they didn’t suit me.”
“You dated other women while seeing Janice?” Brenna asked trying to keep her disgust hidden.
“I wasn’t cheating on her,” he said annoyed. “We never dated exclusively. I dated others because I wanted to make sure Janice was the right choice.”
Brenna briefly covered her eyes trying to understand his logic. “Then how could you be angry with Janice for choosing Michael?”
“I’m upset because she decided to marry him, that’s the whole point. I need a fiancée.” The puppy climbed up to his shoulder and began to lick his face. “Stop that,” he said in a kind, but firm voice. The puppy took the hint and slid back into his lap.
Brenna watched the exchanged baffled by the man before her. He seemed so arrogant, demanding and cold, but treated this helpless puppy with such considerate tenderness. “Don’t you want someone you love?”
“I’ve explained that,” he said impatiently. “It’s not essential.”
Brenna straightened in her chair and handed him a brochure. “Sorry, but you’ve come to the wrong place. This is not an escort service. My clients are looking to start long term relationships, and certainly not the type you and Janice were engaged in.”
Hunter scanned the brochure with disinterest then closed it. “I don’t want one of your clients.”
She furrowed her brows. “I don’t understand.”
“I want you.” He stuffed the brochure inside his jacket. “Since you ruined my life, I expect you to fix it.”
CHAPTER TWO
Hunter watched Brenna’s face change from polite disdain to anger. He feigned a cough to keep from smiling. He was enjoying himself. He hadn’t expected that.
“No,” she replied her voice quiet but firm.
He blinked. He’d expected more than that. A burst of temper, perhaps even a slap. Not such a cool refusal. “Why not? You have nothing better to do with your time.”
Her lips thinned. “How do you know that?”
“Do you think I would come up with such a proposition without being prepared? It would be stupid of me to suggest such a thing if you had a husband.” Actually it was her ringless hand that gave him the cue and after looking at the pictures on her desk he noticed there was no man present. Taking her as Janice’s replacement had been inspired on the spot. He hadn’t come here to do that. He came to tell her off, but when he walked into the room his carefully prepared speech left his mind and for the first time in his life he had no words. He could only stare.
He had expected a romantic, meddlesome wallflower. Not a striking woman in a blue power suit. She wasn’t beautiful, but he liked how her light brown hair framed her high dusky cheekbones, giving her face a haughty look as if she were a goddess offering a lowly servant her attention. When he finally did get his tongue back in order, he scrambled to think of how to gain her sympathy and come up with a reason to see her again. He liked a woman who challenged him.
She intrigued him. Few things did, he had to find out why. “You’re currently not seeing anyone steadily.”
“How—”
Hunter nodded relieved that he was right. “Do I know this? There are very few secrets in this world if you’re willing to pay for it.”
Brenna shook her head. “The answer is still no.”
“And you still haven’t answered my question: Why not? Isn’t that what you do, match people up? I want a match and that would be you.”
“No.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to spend one evening pretending to be my fiancée?”
“Perhaps for the same reason Janice refused to marry you.”
Something unreadable flashed in his eyes, before he lowered them. “I see.”
Brenna cringed. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, although she wasn’t sure what emotion she had seen. He was definitely overbearing and arrogant, but he had cared for Janice in some odd sort of way and it was obvious that her rejection had bothered him. “I’m not much of an actress,” Brenna said trying to soften her refusal.
Hunter nodded, but his eyes remained lowered. “That’s understandable.”
Brenna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear unsure whether she wanted him to look at her or not. Both prospects made her nervous. Yet, she didn’t like not knowing what he was thinking. She lightened her tone, hoping to come up with a compromise. “I may be able to find a woman willing to pretend to be your fiancée for this important event. You are an eligible bachelor and an evening out with a handsome man such as yourself is always a treat.”
His eyes captured hers. “You think I’m handsome?”
Her stomach fluttered at the intensity of his gaze. Very. “Does it matter?”
“I’m curious.”
Brenna toyed with a pen on her desk. “I’m sure you’re well aware of your attributes.”
“It’s not the same as a compliment. Humor me. I’ve just been dumped. My ego is a little shaky.”
“You’d need a sledgehammer to shake your ego.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” He rested his arms on the desk and offered his profile. “Well?”
“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t mean it.”
Hunter turned to her, his eyes teasing. “Sure you would. Women always say things they don’t mean. I could have spots all over my face and you would have said the exact same thing. Women are trained to be kind so they throw out compliments that make men feel better. I want to know if you mean it.”
She picked up a potato chip and bit into it. “You’re just curious?”
“No,” he said slowly, the attempt deepening his tone. “I find you attractive. It’s onl
y fair that you find me the same.”
Brenna choked on the chip and grabbed her drink. After a large gulp, she slammed the drink down and glared at him. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not appropriate.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I doubt that’s something you say often.”
He paused, the teasing gone from his eyes. “You’re not used to compliments. Pity. You should be.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s so much to compliment.” Hunter rested his chin in his hand his gaze sweeping over her in admiration. “Your eyes, your face, your intelligence, your sense of style. You know you could hurt someone with that letter opener.”
“Yes, I know. Why do you think it’s aimed at you?”
He seized her wrist and snatched the opener then dropped it on the ground. “Okay, I’ll stop. I’ll teach you how to accept compliments another time.” He snapped his fingers. “Wait. I have an idea. Give me a compliment and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Brenna raised her eyes to the ceiling. “You’re hopeless.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
“That’s the best I can come up with. You barge into my office, ruin my lunch break, insult my business, accuse me of ruining your life, and then make fun of me and you want a compliment?”
Hunter’s voice was soft. “I wasn’t making fun, I was being sincere. I find you very attractive.”
And he meant it. That’s what bothered her. She turned to her computer and placed her hands on the keyboard annoyed that they were shaking. “Now let’s see who I can find for you.” She forced a smile. “Perhaps whoever I chose will end up being your perfect match and turn from a fake fiancée into a real one. Of course I will have to charge you for my services.”
Hunter picked up the letter opener and laid it on the desk. “We could discuss this over dinner.”
“You plan to eat me?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a quick sexy grin. “That’s a tempting thought.”
Brenna cleared her throat, feeling heat steal into her cheeks. “You can either do this now or schedule an appointment.”
“You need to finish your lunch. When do you close your office?”
“Six.”
“Good we’ll have dinner tomorrow. That will give us a perfect opportunity to sort out any details.”
“We’re not going to dinner,” she said, punctuating every word.
She expected him to argue. He didn’t. Instead he sat on the edge of her desk, the puppy again cradled in his arms and began to whistle.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Can you guess the tune?”
“Get off my desk.”
Hunter shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Listen.” He whistled again.
“The theme to Gone with the Wind?”
“Very good.”
She stood. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You remind me of Scarlett. You look like you want to throw something.”
“Yes, throwing you out would give me the greatest pleasure.”
“Why won’t you have dinner with me? I know you enjoy a good meal.” He measured her rounded figure with masculine appreciation. “Don’t get upset. I’m complimenting you. Skinny women can be dangerous. Their bony elbows are lethal in bed.”
“Get off my desk.”
He did. For a moment she wished he hadn’t. She was afraid her head would fall off from looking up at him. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to dinner with you.”
He grinned and handed her the puppy. “Don’t worry. You have all night to change your mind.”
Once the door closed, Brenna put the puppy on the ground and rested her forehead on the desk, resisting the urge to bang it.
Pauline entered the room. “Are you all right? I am so sorry, I couldn’t stop him.”
“You could no sooner stop a hurricane. Which is exactly what he is—unrelenting and destructive.”
“What did he want?”
“Me.”
Pauline fell into a chair. “What?”
Brenna lifted her head. “Relax, it was nothing like that.” Though that would have been nice. She’d never been wanted like that before. She was sure it would be a thrilling experience. She brushed the thought aside. “He was engaged to Janice Brinkton, but she won’t have him because she’s fallen for someone she met through us. So he wants me to act as his fiancée at an event he’s going to in three weeks.”
Pauline shivered. “I couldn’t imagine anyone marrying him. There are some men who should remain single.”
Brenna shrugged and glanced at her briefcase, there she saw the worn copy of Gone with the Wind she’d finished reading. “Clever jerk,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She bit the end of her pen.
Pauline recognized the telling habit. “What is it?”
She sighed and set the pen down. “I like him,” she said, simply. “I know it sounds absurd. He’s ridiculously arrogant, doesn’t even understand his own nature, is domineering, controlling...”
“And you like these traits?” Pauline asked uncertain.
“No, I like him.” For some reason she couldn’t get out her mind the sight of him saving the puppy from choking and then rubbing it’s tummy and letting it play with his fingers and lick his face.
“I think you’re just in shock. Don’t get ahead of yourself. True he is good looking.” She paused. “Okay gorgeous, but as we both know that is not enough.”
“It’s not his looks. It’s...he’s so alive. So sure of himself. And he’s ambitious. I find that very sexy.” She held her chin in her hand and watched the puppy return to its corner. “He even saved your puppy’s life,” she said gesturing to it.
“Really?”
“Yes. The poor little thing was being strangled by its leash and Hunter saved it. And he was so sweet with him after.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, he’s completely unsuitable for me.”
Pauline looked at her alarmed. “You’d actually consider him a match?”
Brenna raised a brow. “I am single.”
“But he’s all wrong.” Pauline wagged a finger. “Remember whirlwinds can disorient us.”
“Don’t worry. I’m too practical to indulge in a passing crush. Anyway he doesn’t fit my list of requirements.”
Pauline leaned back recalling her requirements. “Considerate—definitely not. Sense of humor—no way.”
“I think he has a sense of humor. He thought I was attractive.”
“You are attractive.”
“Yes, until I walk. That usually alters their perception. It’s amazing how easily men lose interest,” Brenna said the words without regret. She knew it as fact and didn’t let facts bother her. “It was nice to fool him though. I stayed planted behind my desk, meeting him eye to eye as though I were normal.”
“You are normal,” Pauline said defensive.
Brenna waved a hand annoyed. “You know what I mean. He thought I was attractive and I didn’t want to disappoint him. It doesn’t matter anyway, I have the perfect woman in mind for him and then this little glitch in our schedule will be over. I’ll make sure to double his fee for this unusual service.”
“Real men wouldn't care about your limp.”
“Real men are in short supply.”
“Are you sure you can find Hurricane Man a match?”
“Yes, everyone has one.” For some reason the thought made Brenna smile.
***
“Who’s Brenna Garrett?” Miles Almquist asked, glancing over Hunter’s shoulder.
Hunter quickly closed the notebook where he’d been writing notes about her. “The owner of Love by Design.”
Miles sat at his desk, curving his lean body into his swivel chair. It squeaked against the concrete flooring of the office. Although in his mid thirties, his dark hair
was already graying at the temples, and his face, always set with the distinguished British air of ennui, hid a clever mind. “Brenna Garrett Randolph,” he said. “That sounds like a dignified name.”
“It’s not like that.”
“When a thirty-four year old man starts writing down a woman’s name with his own, it is.”
Hunter clasped his hands behind his head. “She fits all my qualifications.”
Miles sat forward intrigued. “For what?”
“To be my wife. I plan to present her as my fiancée in three weeks.”
“And how long have you known this woman?”
Hunter opened his notebook and jotted down another note. “About an hour.”
“An hour?”
He nodded.
“Are you feverish or just mildly insane?”
“I’m fine.”
“While I recognize that Janice’s behavior must have been upsetting, it’s not like you to be hasty. I would say impulsive, but we are talking about you.”
“What appears to be impulsiveness is really just a quick assessment of a situation ripe with opportunity.”
Miles rested his chin in his hand and shook his head. “That sentence only makes sense to you.”
“When you meet her, you’ll understand.”
Miles narrowed his green eyes. “What does she look like? Describe her.”
“She was wearing a blue power suit with silver hoop earrings.”
“And?”
“She has light brown hair that just brushes her shoulders and her eyes are brown like oatmeal.”
Miles’ hand fell to the desk. “Oatmeal?”
“I like oatmeal.”
“Try not to write any sonnets.” Miles glanced at their secretary. “What is Lynn wearing?”
Hunter opened a drawer and grabbed a highlighter. “A dress.”
“What color?”
He slammed the drawer shut. “I don’t know. Why would I?”
“Look.”
Hunter turned in her direction. What he saw was a slender woman wearing a black and pink polka dot dress with a red lace collar. He winced. “Shouldn’t we have a dress code?”
“You can’t prohibit bad taste.” Miles sat back and drummed his fingers on the desk. “I have a theory.”
