The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée

by Sandra Marton

  “An entire weekend, avoiding that barracuda.”

  Jack opened the door. “I keep telling you, my boy. What you need is an excuse even our Mimi can’t ignore.”

  “Yeah. Like my name on the obituary page.”

  “Or on the society page. An announcement, that you’re to be married.” Jack winked. “Mary’s advice, but I tend to agree.”

  “Tell Mary, thanks a bunch.” David grinned. “Women just like to see men lassoed and branded. Well, not me. Once was more than enough.”

  Russell laughed. “Too bad you can’t just phone that rental company we used for that Fourth of July party last year. You know, the one that rents dishes, chairs, tables… see if they have a division called Rent-A-Fiancée.”

  “Thanks, counselor,” David said, smiling. “Be sure and send me a bill for your sage advice.”

  He was still smiling when he shut the door.

  “Rent-A-Fiancée,” he said as he strolled back to his desk. Too bad there wasn’t such a thing. But he could try another approach. He could call one of the women he’d been seeing, invite her to go to the Sheratons with him. Yes, there was a down side to that. With his luck, the lady in question might end up thinking his intentions were more serious than they were, but it was worth a shot. Anything was better than spending the weekend trying to avoid Mimi and dark hallways—

  “Mr. Chambers?”

  David turned around. Stephanie looked at him from the doorway. God, how beautiful she was!

  “Sir? Do you—can you spare a minute?”

  He sighed. It was just as well. He supposed he had to tell her that the gossip had begun. She had the right to know.

  “Of course,” he said. “Come in and sit down, Mrs. Willingham.”

  Stephanie nodded, shut the door behind her and stepped into the room.

  * * *

  She hadn’t wanted to do this.

  David had done enough for her. A job, a place to live, a loan. She couldn’t ask him. She couldn’t. On the other hand, what choice was there? Rest Haven had phoned again last night. The director had been pleasant, but firm. She was already a month behind in payments. They couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Your brother’s care is costly, Mrs. Willingham,” the director had said.

  As if she didn’t know that already.

  She knew it was useless but, during her lunch hour, she’d gone to the bank where she’d opened an account, and asked for a loan. To his credit, the loan officer hadn’t laughed in her face. In desperation, she’d phoned Amos Turner. He hadn’t been as kind. She’d hung up the phone, face burning, the sound of the lawyer’s laughter ringing in her ears. And then she’d suffered the worst humiliation of all. She’d called Clare, who’d listened, let her talk on and on until she was near begging before Clare had laughed hysterically and hung up the phone.

  So Stephanie had steeled herself for what had to be done. There was no other choice. She had to ask David to lend her the money.

  “How much?” he said, with the kind of smile that suggested this was a joke.

  “Five thousand,” Stephanie said, with no smile at all. “I know it’s an enormous amount of money, but I’ll repay you the second you get me my share of Avery’s—”

  “Why in heaven’s name do you need five thousand bucks?”

  She hesitated. The bank loan officer had asked her the same question, in just the same tone of voice.

  “I—I don’t think that’s important.”

  David laughed.

  “You’ve got a lot of brass, Scarlett, I’ll give you that much. Five thousand bucks, and it’s not important?”

  “It is. I mean, the amount is. And the reason I need it is. But—”

  “But it’s none of my business. Right?”

  The tip of her tongue snaked out between her lips. He tried not to notice.

  “I understand that you’d like some answers, David. But—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He sat down, leaned forward across his desk and folded his hands on the polished cherrywood surface. “I’ve gone over your case a dozen times, and I have to tell you, I can’t see any way around the judge’s decision.”

  Stephanie blanched. “But you said—”

  “I said I’d give it my best shot. Well, I have. We could petition the courts, make a case for your having been left destitute.” His eyes fixed on hers. “I could probably get you a couple of hundred a week for a year or two, long enough for you to get back on your feet.”

  “It isn’t enough!” She could hear the thread of panic in her voice and she swallowed hard before she spoke again. “I need—”

  “Five thousand dollars.” His smile was remorseless. “I heard you the first time. Well, Scarlett, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to accustom yourself to a simpler lifestyle.”

  “Dammit! I don’t want the money to—to… I need it.”

  His eyes went flat and cold. “For what?”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can,” he said, and he reached out, clasped her wrist and rose to his feet. Defiance glittered in her eyes but her mouth was trembling. Jack was wrong, he thought. Vulnerable wasn’t the word to describe her. He remembered the feral kitten, how it had spit and refused to be stroked…and yet, how clearly it had needed the gentling touch of a loving hand. He looked into Stephanie’s beautiful face and thought, just for a moment, that he could see straight into her wounded soul.

  “David?” she whispered, and then she was in his arms. She gave a soft cry as he gathered her to him; her body sank into his. Her slender arms looped around his waist in a gesture that seemed equal parts desire and despair.

  His heart hammered. He knew he had only to caress her, lift her into his arms, carry her to the love seat, and she would be his. But she had been Avery Willingham’s, too. Would she belong to any man, for the right price?

  He reached behind his back, grasped her wrists and drew her arms to her sides. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. Knowing that made him even angrier.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice harsh. “I get the message. You’re broke, you need a bundle of cash, and you don’t know how to get it.”

  He heard the indrawn hiss of her breath. “That’s an over-simplification.”

  “Let’s not argue the semantics of this, Scarlett, all right?” He cocked his head and looked at her. “Did you ever do any acting when you were in school?”

  Stephanie stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Hell, he thought, maybe he had.

  “Acting?”

  “Yeah. You know, playacting.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  “Humor me. Just answer the question.”

  “No. Well…” Her brow furrowed. “Well, once. In sixth grade. We did Sleeping Beauty, for spring assembly.”

  “Okay,” he said briskly, as if what he was about to propose wasn’t completely, totally, absolutely insane. “Okay, then, here’s the deal.” He walked away from her, to his desk, sat down behind it as if putting distance between them could make what came next sound like the rational suggestion of a rational man. “I’m going to a house party this weekend, in the Virginia countryside. A client’s hosting it. Lots of people networking, pretending to have a good time.” He shot her a humorless smile. “It’s hard to explain, unless you’ve been to one of these things.”

  “Buffet breakfasts on the sideboard,” Stephanie said. “Drinks around the fireplace. You don’t have to explain. Avery was big on trying to impress the right people. But I still don’t see—”

  “My client’s wife will have one other item on the agenda.” David sat back, his eyes on Stephanie’s. “She’s on the make.”

  “David, I’m sorry, I’m just not following you.”

  “She’ll seat me next to her at dinner,” he said bluntly, “and while her right hand’s holding her salad fork, her left will be searching for my lap.”

  He thought, just for a second, that she was going to laugh. Her ey
es widened; her mouth twitched. He remembered the last time—the only time—Stephanie had laughed, how wonderful it had made him feel, and he almost smiled…and then he remembered that she had just come to him for five thousand bucks, with no explanation other than that she needed it, and his smile faded before it began.

  “So, I’m going to take Jack Russell’s advice. He says my only salvation is to take my fiancée with me.”

  There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on her lips now.

  “Your… Well, of course. I’m sure he’s right. A fiancée is certain to put you off-limits.”

  David nodded. The office seemed to fill with silence.

  “There’s only one problem. I don’t have a fiancée. So here’s my proposal. You need five thousand dollars, I need an actress. Sound workable to you?”

  The color drained from Stephanie’s face. “You mean, you want me to… You’re joking!”

  “I’ve never been more serious.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “No, I couldn’t.”

  “Sure you could.” He got to his feet and walked toward her, moving slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “All you have to do is pretend you’re back in sixth grade.”

  “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Think of it as a kind of collateral on the loan, if it makes you feel better.”

  “David, it’s crazy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you figuring I’ll go to this house party and sleep with you? Because if you are—”

  “My motives are purely self-protective, Scarlett. Mimi Sheraton’s husband’s a nice guy. He deserves better than having me tell him what his wife’s doing.” Don’t touch her, David told himself. It’s bad enough you’ve made this crazy offer… But a stray curl lay against Stephanie’s cheek, and he couldn’t help it; he reached out and let it slip around the tip of his finger. “It wouldn’t be so difficult, pretending you and I were lovers, would it?”

  “David, this is crazy. You can’t expect—”

  He bent his head and kissed her. Nothing touched but their mouths and yet Stephanie felt something warm and sweet stir and spread its wings, deep in the hidden recesses of her heart.

  He lifted his head, his eyes locked on hers. “Say you’ll do it,” he said gruffly, and he held his breath, waiting, until, at last, in a voice he could hardly recognize, she said that she would.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE Sheraton house made Seven Oaks look like an impostor.

  Not that the house was another Tara. David had told her it was a Virginia farmhouse, but when had a farmhouse looked like a cross between Buckingham Palace and the Taj Mahal?

  “I’ll bet nobody with manure on his boots ever got further than that porch,” Stephanie murmured as David took their luggage from the back of his Porsche.

  David’s brow lifted. “Manure, Scarlett?”

  “Manure, David. I’m sure you’ll be amazed to hear we have our fair share of the stuff back home in Georgia.”

  He grinned. “Not quite as much as there is in our esteemed capitol, but why quibble? You’re right. The only thing rural about this place is Mimi’s little speech to newcomers about the purity of the bucolic ethos she demanded of her architect and interior designer.”

  Stephanie laughed. “She doesn’t really say that!”

  “Heck, for all I know, she might be right—assuming the ethos of a Virginia farm in the seventeen hundreds included gold faucets in all the johns, a dining room that seats fifty, and hot and cold running servants.” David hoisted both their overnight bags under one arm. “Here comes one now. Just watch.”

  Stephanie looked toward the house again. A young man dressed in a white jacket and dark trousers was coming briskly toward them.

  “Welcome to Sheraton Manor, madam. May I help you with your luggage, sir?”

  “Thank you,” David said, “but I can manage myself.”

  “I’m sure you can, sir, but—”

  “James,” David said. “Your name is James, isn’t it? I believe we went through a similar dance the last time I was here.”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, my name is James, sir. And I—”

  “And you are here to anticipate my every need.” David smiled and clapped a hand on James’s shoulder. “The thing of it is. James,” he said conversationally, “I had a job picking up after people when I was just about your age.”

  James stared at him. “You, sir?”

  “Me. And when I finally had enough money to quit, I promised myself I’d never, in this lifetime, ask any man to do something for me that I was capable of doing for myself. Can you understand that, Jimmy?”

  For an instant, a boy seemed to replace the proper young man.

  “I certainly can…sir.”

  David smiled and held out his hand. There was a bill tucked inside it. “Glad we understand each other, son.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir. And I hope you have a very pleasant weekend. You and your lady both.”

  Stephanie, who’d been smiling at this exchange, suddenly frowned. “I am not—”

  “I’m sure we will.” David took her arm. “Won’t we, Scarlett?”

  Their eyes met and held, and finally she nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

  David smiled. “See you around, Jimmy,” he said, and he headed toward the house, his hand still clasping Stephanie’s.

  “You don’t have to hang on to me,” she said coldly. “I’m not going to run away.”

  “You’re not going to convince Mimi Sheraton that you and I are an item, either, despite what I told her on the phone. Not if you turn to stone each time someone refers to us as a couple.”

  “He said—James said—”

  “That you were my lady.”

  “Yes. And I’m not.”

  David stopped, dropped the suitcases and spun Stephanie toward him. “Let’s get the ground rules straight here, Scarlett. You’ve agreed to act the part of the woman I’m engaged to marry.”

  “I understand that.” She glared at him. “That doesn’t mean…I just don’t like the way he said what he said. As if I were your—your—”

  “My what?”

  “I don’t know.” And she didn’t. What had the boy said that was so terrible? What was the difference between being David’s lady and his fiancée?

  “He made it sound as if we were lovers,” David said matter-of-factly.

  Stephanie flushed.

  “I suppose he did. And that isn’t what we agreed to.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope you do, David, because—”

  “This is damn near the twenty-first century, Scarlett, and we are both adults. If we were really engaged to be married, I can promise you, we’d be lovers.”

  “Fortunately for me, we are not really anything.”

  “Listen, Scarlett…”

  “David! Yoo-hoo. David, here I am!”

  David looked around. Stephanie did, too. A woman stood on the porch. Her auburn hair was lacquered into artful disarray, her makeup was impeccable, and her smile was brilliant.

  “Oh, my,” Stephanie whispered, “all she needs is a baton and a bathing suit!”

  “Mimi,” David said under his breath, and gave a quick wave of his hand.

  “Sweetie, hurry on up here so I can say a proper hello!”

  Stephanie’s mouth twitched. “Sweetie?”

  “Exactly,” David said out of the side of his mouth. “And if you think Miss America’s going to be put off by you, me, and chastity, you’d better think again.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with you,” Stephanie said quickly.

  His smile sent a wave of heat curling straight down to her toes. “Is that a dare, Scarlett?”

  “It’s a statement of fact, Rhett.”

  “David?” Mimi waggled a coral-taloned finger in their direction. “Are you going to make me come down to you?” She laughed and tossed her head, but not one hair so much as shifted. “You know what the sun does to my skin, sweetie.”

  Stephanie cocked an eyebro
w. “Goodness to Betsy, sweetie, whatever does it do?”

  “That’s it,” David said grimly.

  “No,” Stephanie said. “David—”

  But he’d already pulled her into his arms. “Smile,” he said. “Act as if you’re enjoying this.” And his mouth covered hers.

  Act, he’d said…but she didn’t have to act. Not when the touch of his lips sent her heart bumping against her ribs, when the earth tilted so that she had to curl her fingers into his jacket and hang on.

  “You see?” he said, when he’d finished kissing her. His smile was as cool as if they’d done nothing more than shake hands. “You can carry this off, if you put your mind to it.”

  He picked up their luggage and took her hand, the pressure of his fingers exerting a clear message. Live up to our bargain, he was saying, or pay the penalty…and yet, if having him take her in his arms and kiss her was the penalty, did she really want to resist it?

  * * *

  Mimi Sheraton was all smiles as she greeted David, all girlish purrs as she air-kissed Stephanie on both cheeks, but neither the smiles nor the purrs disguised the fact that Stephanie was about as welcome at Sheraton Manor as she’d been at Seven Oaks.

  Mimi tried to be subtle. She pushed herself between them, linked arms and led them into a foyer big enough to double as a dance hall, playing the role of perfect hostess to the hilt, chattering nonstop as she led them up a wide staircase. They paused at the top, and Mimi turned her smile on Stephanie.

  “You must tell me, dear. However did you land this gorgeous man?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him,” Stephanie said airily.

  “It was all rather sudden, wasn’t it?” Mimi clutched their arms again and started down the hall. “I mean, how long have you and David known each other?”

  Stephanie looked past their hostess to David for help, but he was strolling along, seemingly intent on studying the carpet that seemed to stretch for miles into the distance.

  “You must be the reason he hasn’t been available the past couple of weeks,” Mimi said, answering her own question. She flashed her killer smile. “You know, darling, there are going to be scores of ladies out for your scalp. Even I, a happily married woman, was stunned when David phoned yesterday and told me the news.”