by Penny Wylder
“Hi,” I tell the receptionist. “I’m here for the intern program?”
The receptionist doesn’t answer at first. She’s too busy staring off at the far corner of the lobby. I follow her gaze, turning to see two men in deep conversation. One, the older one, looks vaguely familiar. The younger one looks angry, and a lot like the older man, and also… well. I can tell why the receptionist is distracted. Because damn, that man is built.
He has to be, what, 6’4”, 6’5”? And all lean muscle, too. Not body-builder huge, but the sort of guy who could unexpectedly lift you single-handedly and drag you in a fireman’s carry to the nearest bed. With those sharp biceps of his, the cut jawline and razor cheekbones over his perfect bow lips, I could imagine a thing or two to do in bed with him.
Just then, as though sensing my gaze—or maybe the receptionist’s—he turns. I catch a glimpse of dark, sharp eyes. The kind of eyes that could pin you in place with one glance, while he went to work spreading your legs open, bending you over a desk…
My cheeks go hot, and I whip around. Somewhere behind me, I catch a distant shout, and then a door slams. Only then does the receptionist tear her eyes away, back to me. She smiles once, apologetically.
“Just spying on the family drama,” she says with a laugh and a little flutter of a sigh that doesn’t convince me. Sure. Drama. That’s why you were eying Mr. Hunky over there like a fresh cut of steak. “That’s Mr. Quint and his son, Jasper,” she clarifies, in response to my blank stare.
Oh. My eyes widen. That’s why the older man looked familiar. Antoine Quint—I’ve seen his photo in about a thousand magazines, usually in those Magnate of the Year type features, but occasionally in the Rich Older Men (And Their Hot Wives) type categories too.
With a father like that, and a mother like the bombshell I’ve seen pictured on Antoine’s arm at red carpet photo shoots, it’s no wonder his son—Jasper, was it?—is so distracting to the poor receptionists around here.
“What did you need, again?” the receptionist is staring at me.
I flush once more. “Oh. Ah. Internship. I’m here for. I mean, that’s me.” Damn. Now I’ve gone and caught fluster from ogling the owner’s son. I clear my throat. “Could you point me toward where the new interns should head?”
Now it’s the receptionist’s turn to give me a sarcastic, knowing smirk. “Sure thing. Let me just get you checked in.” She taps on her computer keyboard. “Name?”
“Dee Smith.”
She hums under her breath to herself, and then a little puzzled crease appears on her forehead. “I see a Deeandra Smith?”
My blush, if possible, worsens. “Ah, yes. That’s my legal name. Would it be possible to change it to Dee in the system? I sort of hate the full thing.”
“It is pretty bad,” she agrees with a laugh, which only makes my body feel hotter. More out of place.
“My father’s suggestion,” I say, because for some reason, suddenly, I feel the need to defend my mother. To who? To this random receptionist? I clear my throat. “Anyway. Thanks for that. Um, where do I go?”
“Straight down the hall on your right. Greg Park’s office.”
“Oh.” My forehead creases. “I thought orientation would be with the whole group of us?” I’ve been in Greg’s office—it’s where I interviewed, my first and only time in this building, almost a month ago now. And I’d heard there were three or four dozen other interns starting the program at the same time.
“It will be,” she says, “But Greg put a flag in the system and asked me to send you to his office first.”
“Oh.” My stomach flips over. Suddenly, my excitement is turning into something more painful. Bees stinging at my innards in panic. “Is everything all right?” I can’t lose this job. Not before I’ve even started it.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” She offers me a big smile, and then turns to greet someone behind me. “Hi, checking in?” When I don’t move, she flashes me another smile, more pointed this time. “You’re free to go ahead, Deeandra.”
Great. So I managed to piss off the receptionist already, and I’ve only been inside the building for about five minutes. “Thanks so much,” I call over my shoulder, striding away with one last pained look at the new girl who just entered, another intern, who’s not being directed to the interviewer’s private office before what was supposed to be our orientation.
My stomach sinks further.
Keep it together, Dee. This will be fine. I’m sure it’s just about some little thing, maybe paperwork I forgot to send in.
I reach Greg’s door and knock lightly. The door is open a crack, but I don’t want to just go barging straight in. After a moment, a voice inside the office clears his throat. “Come in.”
I suck in a deep breath, pray to anyone up there who might be listening, and shove the door open to step inside. Just like last time, I have to carefully squeeze in between the one visitor’s chair and the door. Unlike last time, there are heaps more paperwork spilling across the desk. Behind said desk, Greg looks a lot more haggard than the last time I saw him. He has huge bags under his eyes, and his hair is a mess—not the cute on-purpose messy, either.
“Hi,” I say with a bright smile. “Is everything all right? I’m Dee,” I add, when he stares at me in confusion. “Front desk said to stop here before orientation.”
“Dee, Dee… Oh, Deeandra!” His face brightens. He lifts one of the stacks of paper and slides something out from beneath. This very nearly causes an avalanche, and I leap forward to grab the topmost stack for him, and hold it in place while he slides the file out.
On the front of the file, I spot my own name in big block letters.
I force myself to keep breathing, taking deep, slow breaths, as I lower myself into the chair across from him. This will be fine, I reassure myself. It’s nothing.
“So. Dee, is it?” Greg smiles at me, a little less flustered now. Then he laughs. “That’s right, you told me this in the interview. I’m sorry, I’ve been such a space cadet. I remember you now.” His gaze drops to my dress, and his head tilts to one side. For a second, he looks almost calculating.
Damn. Does he recognize this dress, too?
I swallow around a lump in my throat. “So, you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes. I was looking over your résumé, and I just had a couple of questions I wanted to clarify, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Smile, Dee. Smile through the panic. “Fire away,” I say, and follow it up with an awkwardly loud laugh. Did I mention I’m great at lying?
“Where did you go to school again?”
“Gerold College. It’s um, it’s an online college—I only got an associate’s, it should say on there…”
“Yes, it does.” He tilts his head to peer up at me. “Aced all your courses, though. Why didn’t you go for a higher degree? Seems like you’re smart.”
My cheeks flush. I’m going to turn into a tomato at this rate. “Uh… I couldn’t really… afford it,” I finish the sentence in a mumble. “But I’m planning on going back. As soon as I get enough credits—which is where I figured this internship would come in handy. I want to get a BA in business, see, and with an associate’s and some experience under my wing, I might be able to—”
“Where did you grow up?” he speaks over me.
“Oh, right around here.” I perk up at this easier question. “Down on Mercy Street, near St. Martha’s.”
He frowns. I realize I’ve put my foot in it again. Because, of course, a guy like him, working for a company like this, hears St. Martha’s, and all he thinks is… “You mean by the squats?”
“It’s not… I mean, okay, it used to be a pretty bad area. But it’s gotten a lot better in recent years. And, I mean, the community itself is really great, really supportive—”
“Dee,” he says.
I snap my mouth shut. Here it comes. He’s going to fire me. Tell me thanks but no thanks, you aren’t who I thought you were. You of the used dre
ss and the associate’s degree where everyone else has a BA. You, girl from the wrong side of the tracks, who thinks she can flounce over here into the real world unopposed.
I ball my fists, dig my nails into my palms to prepare myself for it.
But, “This isn’t an interrogation,” is all he says, and I blink in surprise.
“Sorry, I guess I’m just confused…” I press my lips together. “We already interviewed, so I thought we’d covered all this, what is—”
“This internship isn’t what you think,” he interrupts. “At least, not for you. We reviewed your application, my boss and I together, and we’d like to give you a special assignment. If you’re amenable to it, of course.”
“Of course,” I say. “Anything you need.”
“It’s not me so much as my boss. He needs… Ah. Well. He needs a woman to pretend to be his wife.”
I stiffen. Blink. Stare across the desk at Greg in shock. It takes a few moments for the words to sink in.
Once they do, the anger hits. I surge to my feet. “I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but—”
“I know it’s extremely unusual, please wait,” Greg shouts when I reach for the door. “Just hear me out. My boss, Jasper Quint, he’s the son of the owner.”
I hesitate, one hand on the doorknob. Jasper. The man I saw in the lobby earlier. The sexy, ripped one distracting the poor receptionist. “What the hell does he need a pretend wife for?” I hear myself saying before I can think better of it.
Greg bursts into laughter. “I take it you’ve seen him, then.” He smirks. “Look, Ms. Smith, it’s very simple. Mr. Quint—senior, I mean—is a family man. He’s pressuring Jasper to get married. Jasper needs a woman to come along to a family event, big reunion happening next month. Just wear a ring, pretend you eloped, and meet the family. As soon as the vacation is over, you can come back here and end the charade. Go back to living your life. With,” Greg adds, with another glance at my résumé, “this fantastic internship on your résumé and a handwritten letter of recommendation for the university of your choosing from Jasper himself. Plus, naturally, the payments we already agreed upon. And we could throw in a bonus at the end, for sticking out the whole vacation.”
“A bonus,” I hear myself saying, “for going on vacation to Greece and pretending I’ve married a car magnate.” My voice sounds flat. Shocked.
This can’t be happening.
Then again…
“Ms. Smith, I should remind you that the alums of our internship program have a near 99% placement rate in car design programs throughout the country. Most place into top schools, too—and that’s without a personal recommendation from the soon-to-be new CEO.”
My eyes widen. “Jasper is taking over?” There have been rumors for years, yet nothing confirmed.
“That’s… a little bit what all this mess is about.” Greg sighs. “I know this all sounds crazy. But trust me, if you knew this family as well I do, it makes perfect sense. For them, anyway.” Greg offers a little laugh.
I drift away from the door, back toward my seat. “It sounds like I’d have to get to know this family as well as you, if I took on this job. Vacationing with them in Greece? At a reunion?”
“They only do that once every 5 years. Return to the homeland to celebrate where it all began, about six generations ago now.” Greg smirks. “It’s definitely an eventful week, most times. Always some new addition to the family to greet, old grudges and dramas that surface… If nothing else, I can promise you’d have an eventful time posing as Jasper’s better half.”
Emotions war inside me. On the one hand, this sounds… well, like Greg put it, crazy. And I’m looking for job experience; help with my BA degree, not my Mrs. Degree.
But on the other hand, as roundabout as it seems, this would apparently get me a strong letter of recommendation toward said degree. Not to mention the pay is already pretty nice, and Greg mentioned a bonus if I wind up completing the whole reunion. “When you say bonus…” I start to reply.
Just then, the doorknob to the office turns, and the door swings inward, smacking the side of my chair in the cramped space. “Greg, I need the numbers from yesterday’s stress test to run down to engineering—oh.” Jasper Quint stops dead in the doorway, eyes locked on me.
Fuck. He’s even hotter up close than he was across the entrance lobby. This close to him, I can appreciate the sharpness of his cheekbones, the hard planes of his angular face. A face currently scrunched up in displeasure.
“I apologize,” Jasper says, tearing his gaze from me to glance at Greg instead. “I didn’t know you were in the middle of something.”
“Actually, in the middle of finding the perfect candidate for your little, ah… side venture.” Greg darts a glance at the door.
Jasper stares at me with new eyes, this time. If anything, he looks more offended than before. “Oh. I see.” He steps inside fully and shuts the door after him. Then he leans back against it, arms crossed in a way that makes his biceps bulge. My eyes dart immediately to the plane of his stomach, visible beneath the tight black T-shirt he’s wearing. A shirt that only accentuates the sharp lines of his abs. “So you’re wife material, huh?”
My cheeks flush. “Well, I don’t know about that…” I babble, and that only makes me blush worse. “I mean, I… Greg was just explaining what you’re looking for. I was…”
“We were just discussing bonus options, actually. A completion bonus if she survives the full reunion week with all of your relatives in tow.” Greg flashes Jasper a meaningful smile.
“Right. Bonus. Yes.” Jasper, meanwhile, doesn’t drag his eyes from mine. “So you’re in this for the money, then?”
“No,” I blurt, then realize how that sounds. “I’m in it for the recommendation letter, actually. Sir.” I don’t know why I added the sir. I curse myself mentally. Normally I’m better than this at talking to guys. I’m most guys’ best friend. The girl they love to talk to, pour their hearts out to. The girl whose shoulder they cry on while they’re pining for some other girl. “It’s a pretty unusual situation, you have to admit,” I say, to cover up my weird formality. “I came here expecting to get valuable job experience. To be able to actually work with the cars your family produces.”
His eyebrows rise at that. “You’re actually interested in the cars? I thought all our interns just came for the pay grade and the letters of recommendation in engineering schools.”
“Those too,” I say with a smirk. “But yeah, I’m really in it for the cars. I love all the company’s designs. Been a huge fan ever since I first rode in an Andromeda.”
“Which year?” Jasper quirks a brow.
“Oh, the ’78. No offense, but I tried the ’82 too, and it just—”
“Doesn’t have the same smooth ride, I agree.” He’s smiling now. Then he seems to catch himself, and his expression snaps back into serious mode. “So. You’re interested in the position, Ms. …?”
“Dee,” I say. I rise and smooth down my skirt, then offer a hand. “If we’re going to pose as lovers, you’d better know my first name.”
He takes my hand. The moment our skin brushes, an electric shock shoots through me, all the way to my toes. Then he lets go, far too fast, and I’m left trying to catch my breath. “Well, Dee.” His gaze drips over my body, and for a second, I feel hot all over, watching him check me out. Then he shrugs and glances at Greg. “I could do worse.”
My stomach drops. “Excuse me?”
He turns back to me with a smirk. “Just an observation.”
This is going to be a harder assignment than I thought. “How long did you say this would take, again?” I say, turning to face Greg instead of this jerk.
Greg looks like he’s struggling to maintain a straight face. “The reunion is one month away, Ms. Smith.”
A month. A month of this, then a week of Jasper’s apparently even crazier family. “I’ll see if I can stomach feigning an interest in him for that long.” I shoot Jasper
a sideways glare.
He just grins wider. “On second thought, this might be more fun than I thought.”
“So can I take that as a yes?” Greg calls loudly, interrupting his boss’s banter. I have a feeling Greg wants Jasper to shut up almost as much as I do right now.
He was so damned attractive when he wasn’t talking…
Still, despite the annoying comments, I feel myself nodding. I need that recommendation letter. Not to mention the cash. It’ll help pay my way through the university I plan to apply to with that letter.
“Great.” Greg claps his hands together, so loud that both Jasper and I startle. We’d taken to glaring sidelong at one another in the interim. “I’ll draw up a contract for you to sign, Ms. Smith. Oh, and, ah…” He glances at the clock behind him. “You don’t need to bother with the intern orientation today. In fact, I think it would be better if we didn’t have you on the premises, in case Mr. Quint Sr. stops by anywhere…”
My face must have fallen, because Jasper suddenly pipes up. “Nonsense. The more face-time my future fiancée has with my father, the better. But I agree, we’ll skip the boring orientation.” His eyes dart to mine again. He’s smiling once more, a little grin that plays at the edges of his mouth. Damn him. He’s enjoying this. Teasing me. “You said you like our cars. Come on a tour with me, Dee, and we can get to know each another.”
He holds up an arm. For a moment, I stare at it like it’s a snake about to bite me.
But Jasper just tilts his head, smirking. “You’ll need to work on your acting skills if you want to fool my family into thinking we’re together. Come on, I don’t bite…”
Reluctantly, I slide my arm through his.
As he tightens his grip on my arm, pinning it against his side, which I can’t help but notice is warm and all kinds of muscular, he adds one final comment under his breath. “Well, not often, anyway.”
