Make Believe Engagement

by Day Leclaire

  He leaned back in his chair and flicked a grape into the air. “What about it?” He caught the grape with his mouth.

  She rapped a pencil against her notebook, firing off her list of questions. “How many are there? How much are they paid? How many hours do they work? Come on, JT, you know the drill.”

  He threw another grape into the air and caught it, too, then shrugged. “It varies, depending on the season.”

  Taylor sighed in frustration. “I need numbers, JT. You promised me numbers.”

  He leaned forward, thumping his index finger midway down the page of her notebook. “Those, Princess, are numbers. Right there. See them?”

  She wanted to shift backward, to evade the heady scent of him, the mesmerizing closeness. Instead, she gritted her teeth and remained where she was. “But are they accurate?”

  He leaned back in his chair again, balancing precariously on two legs. “As accurate as I can be. They’re in the ballpark.”

  “In the ballpark? That’s not good enough, JT. I need-”

  “Sorry. Best I can do.”

  She gave up, flipping to another page. “What about the chef and her staff?”

  “Columbia Hanes?” Another grape spun into the air. “I don’t know. You’ll have to work it into the conversation during dinner. You’ve seen how she often drops by each table to make sure the diners are happy. Ask her then.”

  “Ask her what? How much she makes?” Taylor said, a touch of sarcasm creeping into her tone.

  “If you want. I doubt she’d answer.”

  “Then-”

  “Her staff, sweet pea. You can ask about her staff. You say something like, ‘Goodness, gracious, Columbia. How do you manage?’ And she says, ‘I have excellent help.’ And you say, ‘It must take an army.’ And she says, ‘No, not really.’ And you say, ‘Well, how many does it take to serve a crowd this size?’ And she tells you all those precious numbers you need. It’s simple, Ms. Daniels. A snap.”

  Taylor threw her pencil onto the table. “Dammit, JT!” She shoved back her chair and crossed to the huge windows overlooking the ocean, folding her arms around her waist. “First of all, it’s Davis, remember? Second, this is information you’re supposed to obtain for me so I don’t make anyone suspicious asking the questions myself.”

  He came up behind without her realizing it, dropping his hands to her shoulders and tugging her back against the warmth of his chest. “And third?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

  “And third…” She rubbed a hand across her brow, weary beyond words. “And third, I can’t find the line,” she murmured.

  “What line?”

  The line she didn’t dare step over, she wanted to cry. The line that separated business from personal. The line she’d always treaded with such ease. It was gone and she couldn’t find it. “The bottom line,” she finally said. “Without accurate figures, I can’t come up with the bottom line.”

  “Then you get them as accurate as possible. Boss can’t expect more than that.”

  She released a harsh laugh. “Want to bet?”

  “That’s it.” He spun her around. “Time for a break. Change into a bathing suit and shorts and let’s get out of here.”

  She didn’t argue. She desperately needed a break to clear her head. More, she needed to escape the stifling confines of her room. For some reason, JT’s presence made the walls close in. “Where are you taking me?”

  He shook his head. “Oh, no. My rules are in effect now. Which means you do what I say, when I say. No questions asked. You have three minutes to get ready.”

  A reluctant smile spread across her face. “And if I’m not?”

  He grinned wickedly. “Then we might put this room to more uses than you intended.” And with that devastating comment, he left.

  JT SHOT TAYLOR an irritated look. “All right, I’ll show you again. But pay attention this time, will you?”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I was paying attention. It just didn’t work.” “It didn’t work because you used too much water.” “Last time you said I didn’t use enough.” “Because you didn’t. Look.” He pointed to the area where she’d been working. “That whole side of the sand castle crumbled because you were stingy with the water. And the turret over there collapsed because it was too soggy. This particular stretch of beach takes one part water to three parts sand. On the other side of the island, the sand’s much wetter. You can get away with a one-to-four ratio.”

  She rocked back onto her heels. “You know an awful lot about sand castles. You must spend a lot of time building them.”

  “Spent, Princess. Past tense. I don’t have the time anymore.”

  “Really? Are your… services in such high demand?” She winced, instantly regretting the implication. She truly hadn’t intended to sound so crude. “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.” He didn’t look at her, but kept working to reinforce the castle wall. “And yes, my services are in high demand,” he replied evenly.

  “I’m sure they are.” She scrambled for a way to make up for her earlier rudeness. “So…what other sort of jobs do you take on?”

  The wind died abruptly, leaving the air heavy and sullen with humidity. This time he did look at her, his eyes a blaze of scalding blue in an otherwise expressionless face. “I scam vulnerable widows out of their life savings and seduce neglected wives so that their husbands can get cheap divorces.”

  “Look… I’m sorry, JT.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shot him an apologetic glance. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”

  “Yes, you did. You’ve made it clear from the beginning that you hold people who sell their services in contempt.” A warning rumble reverberated in the distance, competing with the breakers crashing against the shore. “I’m a commodity to you, just as you’re a commodity to your father.”

  She stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean that I’m not the only one being bought. Boss is buying you every bit as much as you’re buying me. He’s just paying more. A vice presidency in Daddy’s firm in exchange for all the dirt you can dig up on a number of luxury resorts—starting with Bride’s Bay. Isn’t that your price?”

  “I’m only doing my job,” she insisted.

  “Yeah, right. So when it’s for a vice presidency, you’re doing a job. But when it’s for fifteen hundred bucks, I’m some lowlife who’s selling my services. Well, you know something, Princess? The only difference I see is the price.”

  He stood and approached, kicking through the sand castle they’d spent the past hour constructing. Steely muscles rippled beneath sun-washed skin and he focused on her, his eyes like twin cobalt flames. Another distant rumble spilled across the island, the sound low and threatening.

  “You’ve ruined the castle,” she accused, shocked. “Why?”

  “That’s how you play the game. Hasn’t Boss taught you that? You spend a lifetime building a dream. Then you stand there helpless while someone stronger than you comes along and demolishes it.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “It’s not much fun when you’re on the losing side, is it, sweet pea?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She spread sandy hands across his chest to hold him at a distance, the white grains catching in his dark hair. Without warning the sun disappeared behind a bank of black clouds and the wind kicked up again. She glanced skyward, secretly relieved that the weather would soon curtail this little encounter. “Nor did I know we were playing a game.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “No? Well, now you do. It started the minute you stepped foot in my yard. And just so you know, I play to win.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she protested.

  “I’m dead serious.”

  “I don’t believe this.” A huge raindrop splashed against her cheek, rolling toward her chin like a wayward tear. “I hired you to do a job. A real job. You may consider this investigation some sort of game, but I don’t. Besides, I’
m not interested in playing games with you.”

  He laughed softly. “Sorry, Princess. It’s too late to back out now. Far too late.”

  The heavens opened then, drenching them in a cool stinging spray, and he kissed her, the victor claiming his prize. But what was just a game to him was fast becoming much much more to her.

  “THERE ARENT ENOUGH details on this expense sheet, JT.” Taylor flipped to the next page in her notebook and made a quick notation. “You’ve included laundry expenses, but you don’t mention a thing about repairs or replacing equipment. For instance, how often do they need a new washing machine or dryer?”

  “Whenever the old one breaks down.”

  “Don’t be flip. I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” He popped open a canned soda and took a long swallow. “How much longer are we going to work on this?”

  “Until we’re finished,” she retorted crisply, and scanned the next item on her list. “What about the expenses connected with the marina? You mention gas and general maintenance, but neglected to include repairs.”

  “I lumped it in with the maintenance.” JT propped his hip on the table next to her. “You know, acting the part of the stuffy corp exec isn’t going to change what happened out on the beach.”

  The point of her pencil broke, and she swore beneath her breath. She’d successfully avoided discussing that very subject for three whole days, and she resented his bringing it up now. She gritted her teeth. “What about golf balls?”

  “Come again?”

  “I don’t see any listing for golf balls,” she explained doggedly. “The resort must go through zillions, but you haven’t included them. I can’t find…” She took a deep breath. “Dammit, JT. You said that business on the beach was just a game.”

  He set the can in the middle of her notebook. “I said you and I have been playing a game from the beginning. There’s a difference.”

  “I’m just doing my job,” she protested. So why did that explanation have such a desperate ring to it? she wondered in despair.

  “And so am I,” he replied cryptically. “Although I wish to hell I wasn’t.” He ran a hand across the nape of his neck. “Put your notebook away. We’re going out.”

  “We can’t, JT. I only have a week left to finish the report.”

  “That’s plenty of time. Besides, you’ve broken your pencil. I know you can’t work without one.”

  “I have extras.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m afraid they’ve all met with a Similar fate. And until you get new batteries for your pencil sharpener, you’re out of commission.”

  She sighed, knowing she’d been outmaneuvered. Again. “Your turn?”

  “My turn,” he confirmed.

  “A CRAFT FAIR?” Taylor exclaimed. “Oh, JT, what a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

  He glanced at her quizzically. He’d never seen her so excited. Bright color spotted her cheeks and her eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “You like craft fairs that much?”

  “I’ve only been to one,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Only one?” he asked in surprise.

  “Yes, but I loved it. They had these beautiful porcelain dolls dressed in the most incredible gowns. I’ve never forgotten them.”

  “I’m sure they have something similar here.”

  He caught her hand and drew her past tables of wares, refusing to let her look at any of the exhibits until he found what he was looking for. He finally stopped at a booth displaying porcelain dolls in Civil War period dress.

  “Oh, JT, they’re gorgeous,” she whispered, eyeing them hungrily.

  “Go ahead. You’re allowed to touch.” With almost reverent care, she reached out and fingered the lace petticoat of a doll reminiscent of Scarlett in Gone with the Wind. “So why have you only gone to one craft fair?” he asked.

  “Boss didn’t have a lot of time to spare for frivolous activities.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” His eyes narrowed as he watched her hand fall to her side like a child resisting a forbidden treat. Deliberately he picked up the doll and handed it to her. “Pretty little thing, isn’t it?”

  “Lovely.”

  “You like dolls?” he pressed.

  “Sure, though I outgrew the need for them long ago,” she said, gently smoothing the silk hoop skirts.

  “That sounds like Boss talking.”

  She shrugged awkwardly. “They are rather useless, aren’t they? I mean…dolls aren’t very practical. They’re just an emotional crutch.”

  “He wouldn’t let you have one, would he?”

  She didn’t look at him. Setting her chin, she returned the doll to the display. “He would have bought one for me. I just didn’t want it enough. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise?”

  She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses, thrusting them onto her nose. Then she looked at him—calm, remote, every inch the professional businesswoman. “Otherwise I’d have been able to present my request logically. I’d have been able to give him a rational explanation for what purpose a doll serves. But I never could. Fortunately I soon outgrew the need for toys.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Did you have to find a rational explanation for everything you wanted?”

  “Of course. It encouraged me to use my wits to achieve my goals.”

  “And what about a hug?” he said harshly. “What sort of rational explanation did you offer when you wanted one of those?”

  She froze, the color draining from her face. “That was uncalled for,” she said in a low voice.

  “You still haven’t answered my question.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, refusing to allow her to squirm free. “Did you outgrow the need for hugs, as well, Princess? Did you?”

  He didn’t think she’d answer. Then she sagged against him, her head dropping into the curve of his shoulder for a brief instant. “No,” she whispered in a voice so soft he barely heard it. “I never outgrew the need for those.”

  JT shut his eyes and held her tight, unable to say another word. It would seem their game had just taken an unexpected turn—one he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TAYLOR ENTERED her bedroom, happier than she’d been in a long time. Despite the incident with the doll, it had been a wonderful day. JT had seen to that. He’d made sure she’d examined every booth and tasted every treat, refusing to leave until the sun hung low in the sky. Brushing windswept curls from her face, she slipped off her sundress and tossed it onto the foot of her bed.

  And that’s when she saw it.

  Draped across her pillow lay the pearl necklace she’d worn the day she’d first arrived at Bride’s Bay—the pearl necklace that had broken when Shad had interrupted a rather torrid embrace. JT must have returned it when she was out of the room. It had been restrung, every pearl accounted for. And next to it was her briefcase. Normally she locked it away in the room safe. But today she’d left it on her bed—foolishly accessible—because she’d been more interested in exploring with JT than working.

  The realization unnerved her, especially considering the contents of her files. She stared at the briefcase and necklace for a long time, the two items bringing her current dilemma into sharp focus—business versus pleasure, her obligation to company interests versus her interest in JT.

  Boss’s voice rang in her head. Explain to me—logically—why you want him. No emotional justifications. Just cool sound reason.

  But there was no cool sound reason. There was only a need that grew stronger with every passing day. She wanted JT. Her hands clenched.

  But she’d choose Daniels Investment, just as she’d been taught.

  Stifling an urge to weep, she put the necklace away and dressed in the one business suit she’d brought along. Then she unzipped her briefcase and set to work.

  “PRINCESS?” JT poked his head through the connecting doors. “You there?”
>
  Satisfied that she’d left the room for the moment, he slipped across the threshold and headed for her bed. He grinned at the doll he held—the one Taylor had admired at the craft fair. He nestled it against her pillows in the same spot where he’d left her necklace. Then he tucked a note in the folds of the doll’s skirt. The note read: “Sometimes need outweighs logic.”

  As he turned to leave, a gust of wind from the open window stirred the papers she’d left scattered on her worktable. One drifted to the floor and he crossed to pick it up. He glanced at it as he dropped it on top of the open file. And then he froze, reading it with greater care.

  TAYLOR RETURNED to the room, relieved that she’d remembered to fax Boss his daily update. There’d have been hell to pay if she’d forgotten. Closing the door, she turned and saw JT sitting at her table, papers fisted in his hand. The breath literally stopped in her throat as the full implication of his presence hit her.

  “JT,” she whispered.

  He looked up, blue murder glittering in his eyes. “You lied to me, you devious little—”

  “I can explain!” She didn’t bother asking how much he knew. It was all too obvious.

  “Explain? Explain what?” He swept his arm across the surface of the table sending paper and files flying. “How you lied about your purpose here?”

  “I didn’t lie about that,” she hastened to say. “I am here to research Bride’s Bay Resort.”

  “And only Bride’s Bay Resort. There aren’t any other luxury hotels on your list. Just this one.”

  “I… I know. I admit, I did mislead you about that.”

  “You misled me about a lot of things. You claimed you were coming here to see how a top-class hotel is run. That was another lie, wasn’t it?”

  She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated by his fury. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Well…not much. “If you’ve read my files, you already know why I’m here.”

  He surged to his feet, striding across the room toward her. More than anything she wanted to put several heavy pieces of furniture between them, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of backing down. “You’re here to see how this resort operates so you can duplicate it. Duplicate it exactly if possible. Isn’t that the whole truth, Ms. Daniels?”