Rent a Millionaire Groom

by Judy Christenberry

  Elise and Phoebe exchanged a look of triumph.

  “Is he the one?” James whispered in her ear.

  She drew away from him even as she shivered. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you invite him for Daisy? To father her child?”

  The man had the memory of an elephant. With a slight nod, she turned to Dave. “How did your classes go today?”

  “Fine. My freshman class actually stayed awake today,” the man said, smiling at Daisy. “It was one of my good days.”

  Bill looked at Dave. “You teach at the university with Elise?”

  “Well, not in the same department. I teach History and she teaches French.”

  Bill nodded. “Then you must know James, too. He’s in the Drama Department.”

  FOR THE FIRST TIME that night, James thought his brilliant idea to talk Bill into coming with him to The Prickly Pear wasn’t so brilliant.

  Dave was staring at him.

  “ASU is big, Bill. We don’t all know each other,” James hurriedly said.

  “He’s right,” Dave said. “I’ve heard of a Bobby Dillon in the Drama Department, but I haven’t actually met him. Any kin?”

  Before James could answer, Elise said, “That’s James’s stage name.”

  Dave nodded.

  George arrived with the three women’s drinks. “Looks like the party has grown. Can I get drinks for anyone else?”

  As they went around the table, James leaned closer to Elise. “I assume that’s diet cola?”

  She nodded. “Yes, and don’t get near it. I don’t want another cola bath.”

  “A little too much excitement for you?” he asked.

  She glared at him.

  “And you, sir?” George asked, looking at James.

  “I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right back with your drinks and then I’ll take your orders.”

  James wasn’t in any rush. Now that disaster had been avoided with the newcomer, he wanted to prolong the evening. He was pretty sure Elise wouldn’t ask him to go back to her apartment with her.

  “About Wednesday night—” he began, leaning closer to her again just so he could smell her perfume.

  “Say, James,” Dave said at the same time, “how long have you been at the university?”

  James was forced to deal with Dave’s question, but he hadn’t come tonight to discuss his brother’s life. He wanted to talk to Elise.

  “Uh, I came back last year.”

  “Came back?”

  James sighed. “I worked for a couple of years before I came back to get my Masters. Have you visited Daisy’s shop?” Okay, so his change of subject wasn’t smooth, but he didn’t want to answer the man’s questions. And he didn’t like the way the guy kept looking at Elise.

  He was supposed to be concentrating on Daisy.

  He caught a look from Phoebe that said she could read him like a book. He sure hoped not.

  The rest of the evening, Dave did concentrate on Daisy. But it didn’t encourage Elise to concentrate on James. In fact, she did her best to ignore him. But he hung in there. He intended to convince her they needed more time together to make their story believable.

  “Did you and Phoebe and Daisy drive over together?” he asked as they were getting ready to leave.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me drive you home. I have a couple of questions I need to ask you.” All he’d have to do if she agreed was come up with some questions. He could do that.

  “I’ll be able to answer them on the way to my parents’ house on Wednesday. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  “Of course not. I’m looking forward to it. But that’s why I need my questions answered.”

  “Elise, are you ready?” Phoebe asked.

  “I’m taking her home,” James immediately said.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” Elise said to Phoebe. “I’m going with you and Daisy.”

  Daisy was talking quietly to Dave, so Phoebe came around the table to where James and Elise stood. “Should we stall?” she whispered.

  “We could stage an argument to give them more time,” James suggested. “Elise is really good with arguments.”

  She glared at him.

  Phoebe chuckled. “Maybe she’s been inspired.”

  “Oh, I have,” Elise said fervently. “And while we’re waiting, I remember something I need to tell you.”

  “Oh?” he asked warily, not trusting the glint in her eyes.

  “Yes. Daddy is expecting to speak with you privately.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Why, for you to ask for my hand in marriage, of course. Unless you’ve changed your mind.” Then she sailed out the door, followed by a chuckling Phoebe.

  James was still standing there, in shock, when Daisy told him goodbye.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Oh, and give Elise a message for me.”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell her I’ll be ready. I haven’t changed my mind,” he said with a grim smile. “She’ll know what I mean.”

  HE COULDN’T BELIEVE he was nervous.

  Even when he’d proposed to Sylvia, he hadn’t sweated.

  Now, he felt as if he must have lost five pounds on the drive to pick up Elise. For so long, he’d depended on his money and his power to pave the way for him. But neither Elise nor her parents knew anything about those things in connection to him.

  In their minds, he was just a guy—a guy with a very low-paying job, asking to marry their daughter.

  He wondered how Bobby would ever find the courage to ask Sandy’s parents. James was having difficulty with it, even though it was only a pretense.

  Elise had suggested she meet him at her parents’, but he’d vetoed that idea. He wasn’t about to arrive alone. When he knocked on her apartment door, she opened it, and he took a deep breath.

  She was wearing green again.

  Without thinking, he reached for her, eager to greet her with a kiss.

  She backed away.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice husky. At least when they got to her parents’, she couldn’t refuse to let him touch her.

  “Yes.” She reached for a small handbag on the lamp table. Then she led the way out of her apartment.

  She kept a determined silence, only answering in monosyllables any question he asked.

  Finally, he gave up talking about their relationship and switched to Daisy’s. A topic she couldn’t resist. “How are things going with Dave and Daisy?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem enthusiastic, but she hasn’t said there’s anything wrong with him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for the dentist, she had a list of his faults. She hasn’t done that with Dave. All she’s said is there’s no spark.”

  Like there was between them. A spark he’d never felt before. A flame that burned inside him, unnoticed until he got near Elise, when it became a bonfire.

  “Don’t you think that’s a problem?”

  “Of course, it’s a problem!” Elise snapped. “But I don’t know what to do about it. How can you predict when—when that spark will appear? It’s not rational!”

  “I know what you mean,” he agreed. Sometimes it was damn inconvenient.

  “So, are you still looking for someone else?” he finally asked.

  “Of course. We want Daisy to be happy.”

  “What does that book say?”

  “Keep your eyes open.”

  The advice sounded cryptic to James. “What does that mean?”

  “Daisy’s having a showing this evening at her shop. An artist who’s become very popular is going to be there with some of his new paintings. Phoebe’s going. She figures there might be some men there alone.”

  “So she’ll walk up to them and ask if they want to be a daddy?” he asked, smiling as he imagined that scenario.

  “No, of course not!”

  “Good, because looking at Phoebe
, they might volunteer before she can point out Daisy.”

  “You think Phoebe’s beautiful?”

  Uh-oh. He heard something in Elise’s voice that told him he’d made a mistake. She couldn’t be jealous, could she? “No more than you or Daisy,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

  “Then why—”

  “Sweetheart, if any of you come on to a man, he’s not going to start looking around for another woman. He’s going to thank his lucky stars and grab you.” His imagination was going crazy. He cleared his throat. “So don’t go asking any other men to be a daddy, okay?”

  “I don’t intend to. But you’re wrong. A mention of future children tends to make a man back away. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.” She stared straight ahead.

  She was right. Talk about children had always had that effect on him, come to think of it. Not because he didn’t want children, but because he hadn’t wanted commitment to any woman after Sylvia.

  Until now.

  No, he hurriedly assured himself, that wasn’t true. Because Elise wasn’t wanting commitment. That’s why he was so relaxed. Not because he wanted to commit to her. No, it wasn’t that.

  “So, what’s Phoebe going to say to them?”

  “She’s planning on being subtle, James,” Elise said, her voice dry. “She’ll start up a conversation about the art on display. We both think a man interested in art might be exactly what Daisy needs.”

  Somehow, James didn’t have much faith in Phoebe’s plan. But as long as it didn’t involve Elise approaching strange men, he’d keep his opinion to himself.

  “Turn right at the light,” Elise ordered.

  Suddenly, James remembered what he had before him. “Uh, when am I supposed to talk to your dad? Before dinner, or after?”

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?” She threw him a sharp glare, and he tried to look calm.

  “Of course not.”

  “James, are you nervous?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. This is just another acting gig. It doesn’t mean anything.” He didn’t dare reveal the anxiety he was feeling. She might wonder why.

  “Okay. You can do it before or after dinner. Whichever you prefer.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it before I sit down to eat with them. I’ll admit to being a little tense. Don’t want to spoil my appetite,” he said, trying a chuckle.

  A secret smile played across Elise’s beautiful lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “Elise, what are you up to?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, turning to look at him, her green eyes wide.

  Then she directed him to turn in at the next driveway. Before she could get out of the car, however, he caught her arm.

  “Wait just a minute. Tell me what you meant.”

  “James, we can’t sit out here. They’ll have been watching for us. They’ll think we’re—” She broke off, her cheeks red.

  “Making out? They’ll think I can’t keep my hands off you? Yeah, that’s what they’ll think. So tell me what you meant before they think we’re indulging in a quickie.”

  “James Dillon! How dare you—”

  He planted a kiss on her open mouth and put into the kiss all the hunger he’d felt since Saturday.

  When he finally lifted his head, he said, “You want to tell me now?”

  “No,” she said, shoving away from him. She slipped out of the car before he could stop her.

  But he’d definitely accomplished one thing. She looked decidedly kissed—like he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  Once inside, she introduced her parents. He liked them both. Her mother resembled Elise, except that she was much calmer. Mr. Foster was a genial man, welcoming him with a smile.

  “Call me Sam,” he said as James greeted him.

  “Thank you, Sam. I appreciate you and your wife inviting me over. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise, son, likewise. Too bad we couldn’t have the whole family over. They’re all dying to meet you. But Margaret said you’d be overwhelmed.” He eyed James, and James straightened, trying to look comfortable but in control.

  “Not sure Margaret was right. You look like you can handle yourself.

  “I’ve had some experience in several areas.”

  Elise and her mother were walking toward what he guessed was the kitchen. James leaned forward to say quietly, “I wonder if this might not be a good time for us to have a private chat.”

  The look of surprise on the man’s face, and a smile on Elise’s face as she looked over her shoulder, made James wonder if she’d just played a trick on him.

  Chapter Nine

  Sam Foster led the way down a hallway and opened a door.

  “In here. This is my room. No ladies allowed.” He grinned. “Which means it may not be too clean.”

  “No problem,” James assured his host. His mouth suddenly seemed to be stuffed with cotton. He hated the thought of lying to this man.

  After they both sat down, Sam smiled encouragingly but said nothing.

  James cleared his throat, then opened his mouth.

  Nothing came out.

  “Don’t be nervous, James,” Sam said. “It is James, isn’t it?”

  James stiffened. “Of course.”

  Sam grinned. “I thought so. The two of you look a lot alike, but you’re older, more the age for Elise.”

  “The two of us?” James asked, his voice hoarse from strain.

  “You and Bobby. Elise said something about Bobby being your stage name, but why would an advertising executive need a stage name?”

  James swallowed a large lump in his throat. “Uh, you—you know about my agency?”

  “Of course. Looked you up on the Internet.” Sam beamed at him and waved his hand toward the computer sitting on his desk. “My son, Chance, bought that for me my last birthday. He’s been teaching me how to use it. I can e-mail!”

  James nodded approval as his mind frantically tried to figure out how to deal with this latest revelation.

  “I put in both names and got pictures of two different guys, you and Bobby, but I figured you were kin because you looked alike. I guess Margaret got things wrong.”

  “Uh, did you—did you tell anyone? Margaret or anyone?” James held his breath while the man considered his answer.

  “Nope, can’t say I have. My wife loves to hear herself talk. She’s been discussing you nonstop. She wouldn’t believe me, anyhow.”

  James leaned forward. “Sam, we need to talk.”

  “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but now we’ve really got to talk.”

  “WHERE DID the men go?” Margaret asked as she carried a bowl of boiled potatoes to the table.

  “I think Dad took James back to his room.”

  “Oh, mercy, the poor man is going to think I’m a terrible housekeeper. Your father won’t let me touch that room. Says he’s afraid I’ll mess up his computer. Like he’d know the difference!”

  “It’s all right, Mom. James won’t mind a little dust. I see you fixed the boiled potatoes.” Elise couldn’t help smiling, hoping James hated the dishes as much as she did.

  “Yes, and the cabbage, too. But I didn’t fix much. You know your father hates it. So I made meat loaf and green bean casserole. And I made a chocolate cake—my double-chocolate, three-layer cake. All your brothers-in-law love it.”

  “Yes, I know, Mom.” Elise was feeling worse about her dirty trick now. Her mother prided herself on her cooking. She would be more disappointed than James when he didn’t like her cuisine.

  Elise looked over her shoulder, but there was no sign of James or her father. Did that mean they were getting along? Of course, her father could get along with almost anyone.

  Growing more nervous by the minute, she turned to her mother. “Should I go call Dad and James? We wouldn’t want the food to get cold.”

  Her mother surveyed the carefully set table. “Of course, dear. Oh! I almost forg
ot the salad I made.” She whirled around and headed for the kitchen.

  Now Elise really felt rotten. Her mother had used her best china, put her favorite tablecloth on the table, the one she had to iron. Margaret had gone to a lot of trouble, and the evening was going to be a disaster.

  Elise needed to talk to James, to promise him whatever he wanted if he’d pretend to like boiled potatoes and cabbage.

  She hurried down the hall and rapped on the closed door. “Dad? James? Mom says dinner’s ready.”

  When her father opened the door, Elise hurriedly studied his face. He gave her a broad smile. “Good! We’ve worked up an appetite.” Then, much to her surprise, he hugged her tightly. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  She was still standing there, staring after him as he headed to the dining room, when James spoke.

  “Nice man.”

  She whipped her head back around. “Yes. Yes, he is. A good father.”

  “I could tell.”

  “Uh, James,” Elise began, bringing her mind back to the difficulty. “I need a favor.”

  “Okay.”

  She straightened her shoulders. She hated confessing what she’d done. “I told Mom your favorite foods are boiled potatoes and cabbage.”

  Staring at her, he shuddered. “You think I’m Irish?” he asked, grinning.

  “No. I was—angry with you.”

  He stepped closer and took her hands. “I guess I can understand that. What’s the favor?”

  She licked her lips. “I want you to pretend to like cabbage and potatoes.”

  He stared at her, saying nothing.

  “Please, James? I didn’t think. Mom went to a lot of trouble to make the dinner what she thought you wanted. She’s going to be so disappointed.”

  “Cabbage?” was his only response.

  “Come on, James. You’re an actor. Please? I’ll owe you.”

  “Hmm. What are you offering in return?”

  “I don’t know.” She tried to think of something she could do for him, but she was pretty sure he didn’t want to learn French verb conjugations.

  A smile began on his face, then built to a radiance that matched the twinkle in his blue eyes. She began to worry.

  “Okay. I’ll pretend to love cabbage and potatoes. And for every bite I take, I get one kiss.”