by Hart, Renee
Jane chuckled, shaking her head. “This is crazy. You're crazy. You can't be serious, can you?”
Shea leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin. “I'm completely serious.”
“But...why me?” Jane spread her hands. “I mean, why not some...some...some rich debutante who would look good to your grandfather? Someone who's at least in your own tax bracket.”
Shea's face reddened. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, as it happens...none of the ladies 'in my tax bracket' are interested in going anywhere with me anymore.”
Jane crossed her arms, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. “And why not?”
Shea spread his hands. “Look, that doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Jane said, “I'm the one you're propositioning. I think if you want there to be any chance I'll consider being your fake fiance, then I want to know what kind of man I'm getting involved with.”
Shea let out a long sigh. “Well, I suppose mostly it's because I have a bad habit of not calling women back. I tend to...avoid getting tied down.”
“So you're a player.”
“I wouldn't put it like that,” Shea said.
“Then how would you put it?”
He chewed on his lip, looking up at the ceiling. “I'm...I have been a confirmed bachelor. Until now.”
“No,” Jane said, shaking a finger at him, “you're still a bachelor. You're just trying to get someone to lie and pretend that you're not.”
He shrugged. “I suppose so, yes.”
Jane crossed her arms, looking away. “I don't know about this.”
“Well, just think of all the good you'd be doing. You could save a lot of people's jobs. Including your own.”
Her eyes lowered. The fear of her looming debt remained firmly fixed in Jane's mind. “How do I know this would even work? I mean, what if I play along, and I end up losing my job anyway?”
“I'll pay you,” Shea said.
Jane's eyes narrowed. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”
“Whoa...no, nothing like that.” Shea waved his hands in front of him. “I'm not asking you to...to do anything. I mean, I'd pay you to play the part of my fiance. Just to make a few public appearances, maybe have dinner with me and my grandfather. Put on a show.”
Jane chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking it over. It sounded crazy. But then again, she really needed the money. “How much?”
Shea tapped his fingers together. “How much do you think a few weeks of playing 'happy couple' is worth?”
Jane did some quick math, adding up what she still owed on her car, her student loans, and her credit cards. Then she took a deep breath and said, “Forty thousand dollars.”
Shea's eyes widened. He sat back in his chair, letting out a long, slow breath. She didn't know what he had been expecting, but it was obvious she had tossed out a number much higher than he'd been planning on. It was more money than Jane made in a year. But if her job really was at risk, she would need something to live off of. Worst case scenario, she knew she could pay off her car and her credit cards, then leave the rest in the bank while she looked for a new job. She wouldn't have to fear losing her apartment while she searched.
“Nonnegotiable,” Jane said, raising her chin. She didn't know how much money Shea Gordon was worth, but he had to be a millionaire, at the very least. Even assuming he didn't have stock in his grandfather's company, he had to be making a six figure salary.
Shea thought it over for a long moment. Then he held out his hand. “Deal.”
Jane hesitated for a moment, then she shook his hand. “I want a contract,” she said. “In writing, outlining the deal. And a down payment up front.”
“I'll write you a check for five thousand dollars tonight,” Shea said without hesitation. “Another five each week until New Year's, then the remainder as a lump sum.”
“All right,” Jane said. She picked up her wine glass and downed the rest of the wine. Her head was starting to spin. She couldn't believe this was really happening.
“When do we start?” she asked.
“The company Christmas party is tomorrow night,” Shea said. “I'll send you out tomorrow morning with my assistant. She'll get you clothes, get your hair and makeup done, the whole nine yards. On my account, naturally. And you can keep the clothes when this is done. Consider them a bonus.”
“Sounds good,” Jane said. She pressed her palms on the tabletop to keep herself steady. She felt like she was going to faint.
“I'll send someone to pick you up first thing tomorrow morning,” Shea said. “You can spend the day at a spa. Get the full royal treatment. Then the party starts at six.”
“And the contract?” Jane asked.
“I'll have it drawn up tonight, and it'll be ready for you first thing in the morning.”
“All right then, Mr. Gordon,” Jane said. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then raised her chin and straightened her back, trying to look professional and in charge. “It sounds like you've got yourself a deal.”
Chapter 6
“This contract is the most insane thing I've ever written,” Shea's lawyer said, looking over the most recent draft of the document.
“Consider it a challenge,” Shea said. He was pacing around his penthouse apartment, sipping scotch while they went over the details. He'd phone Phil as soon as he left dinner with Jane, and he'd been forced to promise to pay double the lawyer's normal fee for the rush job. “It doesn't need to be perfect. I don't need any out clauses or anything. I'm just doing this because she wants her interests protected, and I respect that.”
“How do you know this woman won't try to screw you over?” Phil asked. “I mean, even if the main dividend doesn't get paid out until the end, what's to stop her from taking the first few payments, then dropping the whole deal?”
“She won't do that,” Shea said.
“How do you know?”
“Because she's trustworthy. I can tell.” Shea took another swig of his scotch, savoring the warm burn of it on the back of his throat.
“Trustworthy. Sure.” Phil snorted. “I've never met a woman in my life that I'd trust with my money.”
“That's because you're a cynic, Phil,” Shea said. “Just trust me. This is going to work out fine. Keep the terms simple and clear.”
“All right, you're the boss. But I'm not giving her any loopholes in this thing, regardless. If she does screw you over, and you change your mind about her, I want to make sure you can still get her for contract violation.”
Shea slammed his empty glass down on the table. “Just get it done.”
He turned and stalked from the room, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He walked into the kitchen and opened the liquor cabinet, pulling down another bottle of scotch. He normally didn't drink this much, but the situation he was in had left a foul taste in his mouth.
Paying a woman to pretend to be someone she wasn't, it didn't sit well with him. He would far rather have found someone who was actually interested in him romantically. Sure, it still would have been a lie to have her pretend to be his fiance, but it would have felt different to him. At least, that was what he told himself.
He got a clean glass and poured himself another scotch. He swirled the golden liquor in the glass, watching the way the ice cubes tinked against the sides of the glass. He wished there were another way to handle this situation. If only he hadn't opened his fool mouth in front of his grandfather and let the lies slip forth.
But then, he remembered the look of pride in Jeb's eyes when Shea had told him he was engaged. It was like his grandfather had seen him in a whole new light. That was something he hadn't experienced in a long time.
He thought back, trying to remember the last time he had seen pride in his grandfather's eyes. It had probably been when he was a young boy, playing with the tools in his grandfather's workshop. Jeb had been a carpenter for most of his life, when he
wasn't busy running his company. Jeb had said that his father, Shea's great-grandfather, had been a carpenter by trade. He had taught Jeb everything he knew, and there had been a time when Jeb had almost followed in his father's footsteps. He had eventually developed loftier ideals, but woodworking was still the hobby that he loved best.
When Shea had been a young boy, he used to go into his grandfather's workshop, eager to help him build. His grandfather had humored him, setting pieces of scrap wood onto a clamp and giving Shea a small, dull saw to cut them with. It had made Shea feel like he was helping with a big, important project. When he got older and he could handle tools for real, he had helped his grandfather build bookshelves, dressers, and other furniture that his grandfather gave as gifts to friends and family. It had been a good time, working with his hands alongside his grandfather.
Thinking back on it, Shea realized he hadn't done any woodworking since before he went away to college. And after he came back, he had focused so much on his career at Gordon Orthopedics that he hadn't had any time for a hobby.
He wondered if his grandfather still built things in his workshop at home. He hadn't even asked about it in years. Though he remembered his sister raving about the crib and dresser their grandfather had made for her when her daughter was born a few years ago. Which was just one more thing that reminded him of the ways he'd disappointed Jeb: Shea had never provided the old man with any great-grandchildren. Shea's sister, and almost all of his cousins, had all married and had kids by now. He was the only one of Jeb's grandchildren who had never settled down. He was also the only one to become a vice president in Jeb's company, but somehow, he felt like that wasn't enough for his grandfather.
Shea raised his scotch to his lips, then scowled at the glass and set it aside. He headed back into the other room to go over the final draft of the contract. Phil had made a few more changes, but Shea wasn't concerned with the details anymore. He almost regretted the whole venture, but he knew it was what he needed to do. It might be the only way to save Gordon Orthopedics, and keep people like Jane Decker from losing their jobs and ending up out on the streets.
Chapter 7
Jane was up early Saturday morning. She had barely slept. The idea of what she was about to do had kept her head spinning all night long. She almost convinced herself she had dreamed the whole thing. But when Shea's driver arrived before eight a.m. to pick her up, she knew that it hadn't been her imagination.
She dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater. She knew she would be wearing elegant clothes by the end of the day, so she wanted to at least start off comfortable and simple. She got into the back of the fancy car, and despite the early hour, this time she helped herself to a quick drink from the mini fridge. Her hands were shaking and her nerves were on edge, and she desperately needed something to help settle her down.
The driver brought her to a small house in a neighborhood just outside Philadelphia. She looked the house over as she got out of the car. It was a quaint little place, very homey, and not at all fitting with the image she had of Shea Gordon. She stood by the car, studying the house for a moment, then asked the driver, “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“This is the address Mr. Gordon gave me,” the driver said. “And that's his car.” He nodded to the Porsche in the driveway. It was sitting next to a blue minivan, and the two cars were as different as Shea and Jane were.
“All right,” Jane said. She walked up to the door and rang the bell. While she was standing at the door, she noticed a child-sized bicycle sitting on the porch, along with a scattering of toys.
A girl about twelve years old opened the door. She took one look at Jane, then turned back into the house and shouted, “Mom! That lady is here!”
Jane's face turned red. The girl wandered off back into the house, and a moment later a woman about Jane's age came to the door. She offered her hand. “Hi. I'm Emily Bowman, Mr. Gordon's personal assistant. Come on in.”
“Hi.” Jane shook the woman's hand, then followed her into the house. She found Shea sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a tablet computer.
He looked up at her, smiling. “Jane. I'm glad you could make it. I've brought the contract for you to look over.”
He handed her a folder. She sat down and opened it, but she was too distracted to read it just yet. She looked around the quaint little kitchen. “I was expecting to meet at your office. Not at...” She looked over to Emily. “...at someone else's home.”
Shea grinned, giving Emily a conspiratorial glance. “Well, I couldn't exactly have the whole office knowing that I was bringing in a woman to sign contracts promising to be my fake fiance, now could I? Emily was kind enough to volunteer her home as an alternate meeting ground.”
“In exchange for a hefty Christmas bonus,” Emily said, smiling and crossing her arms. She leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Jane looked over the contract.
“You can have your lawyer look that over if you want,” Shea said. “But it's fairly simple. It says you're being hired as an actress, and it lays out the payment schedule over the next few weeks, as we discussed.”
“I don't have a lawyer,” Jane said. She skimmed over the contract, but even though Shea claimed it was “fairly simple,” it was more than she could really process. The contract was filled with technical terms that went over her head, and she gave up on understanding it about halfway through. It looked clear enough, as far as she could tell, and she did see that her payment was listed just like Shea had promised. And other than her “acting,” the only conditions it listed was that she had to promise not to disclose to anyone that she had been hired in this fashion, or else she would lose the money.
She signed the contract and handed it back to Shea. He set it aside and gave her a grateful smile. “Good,” he said. “Now, Emily will take you into the city to go shopping. Everything will be paid for on my account. You've got a spa appointment at 1:00, and they'll take care of hair, makeup, that sort of thing. I'll be picking you up myself for the party tonight so we can arrive together.”
“All right,” Jane said. She got up from her chair. “Sounds good, I guess. I'll see you then.”
She started to leave, but Shea stood up and took her hands. “Jane,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Thank you for this. I know it's an unusual situation, and it's not the circumstances I would have hoped for. But I hope you know you're doing a good thing.”
She gave him a small smile. “I know. There's a lot of people's jobs on the line.”
He touched her cheek. “Thank you. I'm glad we're on the same page here.”
He sat back down and continued whatever work he was doing on his tablet, typing on the little fold-out keyboard attached to it. She assumed he was still working on his proposal for the big restructuring of the company. And while she was a bit curious about what he was planning to do if he became the new CEO, she knew she had her own work to do, of a completely different sort.
She followed Emily out of the kitchen. They stopped in the living room, where Emily's husband was playing a board game with the kids. “We're heading out,” Emily said. “I won't be back until late, so you guys are on your own for dinner.”
“That's fine,” her husband said, grinning at her. He looked to his kids and added, “I think Mom just said we can order pizza tonight.”
The kids cheered. Emily rolled her eyes. Jane giggled, watching the kids play with their father while Emily got her jacket and her purse. They seemed like a happy family. She had always wanted kids of her own. Her life just hadn't worked out that way. At least, not yet.
Emily led her outside, and instead of the minivan they took Emily's husband's car, a green Hyundai sedan. They drove into the city together, and at first the drive was quiet and awkward. Jane wasn't sure how to make small talk with a woman who was being paid to take her out shopping so she could pretend to be a rich executive's fiance. It wasn't the sort of situation she'd ever been in before.
Finally, Emily brok
e the silence. “So, this must be kind of a weird day for you.”
“Yeah, that's an understatement,” Jane said, laughing. “I mean, I barely even know Shea. And now I'm supposed to pretend to be in love with him?”
“I'm as surprised as you are,” Emily said. “I mean, I've known Shea for years. He's dated plenty of women. Usually a different one every week. I guess pretending to settle down is the only way he could think to do this. It's not like I've ever seen a woman who could tame him.”
“Is he really that bad? I mean, is he some kind of pig or something?”
“Oh, no.” Emily waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing like that. He's not the 'love them and leave them' type. Honestly, half the time I think it's more about the women than it is about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Emily said, “he tends to meet all these high society types. And half the time I think they only want him for his money. He'll meet a woman, go on a few dates with her, but then there's no chemistry. He tells me about his dates sometimes when he comes in on Monday morning. And most of the time he sounds...bored.”
“Bored?” Jane pursed her lips, considering that.
“Yeah. Like, the women he's gone out with have nothing going on beneath the surface. I think he breaks up with them and moves on because he's looking for something more meaningful, and he just hasn't found it yet. There's no connection.”
“Hmm.” Jane ran a hand through her hair. She was starting to wonder if there was more to Shea Gordon than meets the eye.
Chapter 8
The first thing on the agenda was shopping. Emily drove Jane to the shopping district, then they started walking from one store to another, looking for the perfect outfit for Jane to wear to the party tonight.
