Dan walked toward him, stopping an arm’s length away. “You know what I’d like to see you do? Settle down. Find some sweet woman who can keep you out of trouble while Jeffers has you in his sights.”
He rolled back on his heels. “I could probably do that.”
An image of a certain silver-spangled cake girl filled his thoughts, but he shoved the image aside. He needed a woman to keep him out of trouble, not consume his every waking thought.
“Probably?” his boss asked.
“Definitely,” Nick said. All he needed to do was play his cards right with his matchmaking sister. “In fact, Friday night was my farewell to bachelorhood party.”
Dan’s eyebrows raised in anticipation of an explanation. Nick winced. Dammit, now he had a situation on his hands. He needed to come up with details—fast.
“A night on the town before my engagement.”
“Your engagement?”
Oh shit, had he overstepped? An engagement? His collar tightened at the thought. He’d tried the relationship thing a few times in the past, but commitment led to pain. His parents’ marriage had taught him that. Better not to be in a committed relationship than hurt a woman the way his father had destroyed his mother. And shit, now he’d gone and said the E word? An engagement might be tough to pull off. He’d really hung his balls out there.
“Nick?”
A thin film of sweat formed on the back of his neck. A partnership position at a high-flying firm like Morgan confirmed he’d made it out of Brooklyn. Hell, in the world of legal finance, he was about to make the NFL. A dream.
He needed to strike now or they’d move onto the next guy. Manhattan was full of sharks. He’d already given them reason to pass him over, and there was no guarantee the chance would come around again. If that meant he needed to find a sweet woman willing to tolerate him for the short-term…
“Dan, all that’s left to do is get down on one knee, propose, and convince her to say yes.” Nick pressed his palm against the center of his chest. “What can I say? I fell damned hard…out of the blue…like being hit in the back of the head with a ball peen hammer.” God, could he string together any more romantic clichés? His boss seemed to be Hoovering them up like candy.
Dan stepped forward, his hand extended in happy congratulations. “Welcome to the club, kid. I know just how you feel.”
Poor bastard. I’ll bet you do.
“Thank you, sir.” Nick accepted the handshake with the straightforward strength of a man with nothing to hide. All he had to do now was find a woman.
Unfortunately, Cupid’s arrow hadn’t struck him yet.
Luckily, he had the queen of hearts in his back pocket.
…
“Jane, you are killing me here.” In a casual move that belied the anxiety building in his gut, Nick kicked back on the velvet sofa in his sister’s office. Apparently, producing a short-term fiancé in a matter of hours was not going to be as easy as he’d hoped. He was already going down in flames.
“Me? Killing you?” Jane rolled her eyes and rummaged through that alphabetized candy drawer of hers, not at all amused by his current dilemma. “I can’t run through my database and magically hook you up with some temporary wife. My clients are looking for true love. You, big brother, are looking for a way from the doghouse to the executive washroom.”
Nick groaned. Ever since she’d gotten together with Charlie, she was all hearts and cupids. He almost liked her better when she was betting his friend’s love life on national television. “C’mon, sis, I need a fiancée—stat—and since my newly committed-to-love sister is the city’s smartest Cupid…” He tossed out the all-hands-on-deck smile that used to con her into doing his chores when they were kids. She’d do the dishes and he’d sneak off to meet some girl by the river. Worked every time.
Jane pulled two bags of Skittles from the drawer and backhanded a pack that hit him square in the chest. “Nicholas, I’m going to keep this simple for you. There’s no way I’m setting you up with a client. Never going to happen, not in a million years.”
Apparently, the smile didn’t always work.
“So, I take it, that’s a no?” He tossed the bag of fruit candies onto the sofa.
“Yes, that’s a no.” A quick tearing of candy wrapper emphasized her words. “Can’t you seduce, or rather, convince one of your gal pals to sign on the dotted marital line? Jessica, for instance? Or what about that yoga instructor…what was her name…Dharma? Yes, Dharma would fit in very well at the firm.”
“Give me a break, Jane. The women I date—”
“The word ‘date’ seems like a stretch here.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched defensively. “We both know I’m not suited for lasting love, hell, I’m not suited for love of any kind. I enjoy my freedom, and while the women I date are varied and wonderful, I don’t want one of them taking this engagement thing to heart and ending up with one that’s broken. I’m not that guy. I’m easy, fun, sex-on-the-side guy.”
“Oh, right, I forgot,” she said with another eye roll. “Love’s all about sex on the side.”
“I think I liked you better before you became engaged to my best friend,” he said. “Besides, I’m not talking about love. I’m talking about marriage.”
“A fake marriage. No, wait a minute, that’s a little heavy-handed on commitment.” She sliced through the air with her hands in an emphatic gesture. “A fake engagement.”
He ignored the sarcasm and got up to pace the floor in front of the oversized desk she used to intimidate people. “What about the girl from Friday night?” Nick stopped and ran a hand over his jaw. Damn, he hadn’t meant to voice that particular thought. He turned toward his sister.
Her eyebrows rose, feigning disinterest. “You mean the girl from the cake?”
“Yes. The cake girl.” His eyes narrowed on her face. What was with the sudden lack of interest? His phone pinged, but he ignored the incoming text. “I asked Charlie how to contact her, but he didn’t have a clue.” Another ping. Damn, that was getting annoying. “How the hell can he not know where to find her?”
“Booking agents are so discreet nowadays,” she said, back to sarcasm and eyeing his phone. A third message lit up the screen. “Why don’t you answer? Maybe one of your current ‘first-date-with-benefits girls’ would like to sign on for the long term.”
Nick wagged a finger at her. “See? Now, that’s what I was talking about. That’s the kind of thinking that gets a man into trouble. I don’t need a girlfriend, I need a fiancée.” And then it hit him like an overwritten legal brief. “Or…maybe I need a professional.” Maybe he hadn’t thought it through until now—after all, what did he have to offer a woman looking for true love?—but a business relationship could definitely work.
“Really, Nick?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “A professional temporary fiancée?”
“Why not? All aboveboard, nobody gets hurt.” He countered with a cool shrug, unwilling to be dissuaded from an idea that could save his ass. “Maybe even a professional cake girl, one willing to sign on the dotted line of a short-term business relationship.”
“But as you’ve already said, we don’t know how to find that girl.” There was a thoughtful pause filled by the sound of Jane’s fingers drumming across the desk. “However…if it’s a strictly hands-off, business-type situation… I may know the perfect professional woman.” Her shrewd, slightly devious gaze narrowed on his face. “What about Marianne?”
“The new girl?” Nick shook his head in an imperative no. He’d run into her at Smart Cupid once or twice. She was nice enough, but always reserved and blushing. In order to convince his managing partners he’d fallen madly in love, he’d have to turn her into the type of woman he’d be willing to fall madly in love with. And frankly, he wasn’t sure it was possible. “There’s no way in hell anyone will believe I fell head-over-heels for the buttoned-up new girl. The woman is so not my type.”
Jane shot him a pointed look as another message h
it his phone. “Apparently, your type hasn’t gotten you very far. Maybe it’s time to try someone different.”
“Not that different.” Nick powered down in order to avoid any more shit, wondering how the hell he’d managed to put his career in the love-thirsty hands of Smart Cupid. Even the one he was related to, no strike that, especially the one he was related to.
“Nick, remember the decent, protective side of you. Remember that guy? The rock that held our family together after Dad lost his last bet, racked up a stack of bad debts, and took off. Why don’t you try being that guy for a change?” His sister leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, a recognizable gleam in her eyes. He was going to pay for coming here. “Never know. Might improve your attitude about love.”
Nick crossed his arms over his chest and let his silence speak for itself. Life had dealt them a lousy hand, and yes, he’d put school on hold to make some badly needed income for his family. He’d waited up for his mother to come home from her second job and watched out for Jane and Jake, making sure they never saw their father drunk enough to take his shit out on their mother. He’d do anything for his family. But he’d survived, hell, they’d all survived, no reason to dwell on it now.
Jane let go a sigh. “Fine, since you seem to need additional inspiration to make this work for you,” she said, her expression telegraphing her irritation, “I happen to know she’s in need of an escort…”
“An escort?” Even he was shocked.
“Not that kind of escort,” she said, shaking her head like he’d lost his mind, “A date. For an important family…event.”
“Jesus, not a wedding.” Nothing worse than a damned wedding.
“No, Romeo, not a wedding…never mind, forget I said anything.”
A charged silence filled the office. Nick turned his phone over in his hand a few times. She was playing him. He knew it, but he’d backed himself into a serious corner by claiming a fiancée he didn’t have. He shoved the damn cell deep into the pocket of his pants, not believing what he was about to say. “Think she’d be willing to make a deal?”
“I think so,” she said, all eagle-eyed. “If you’d be willing to help her out of her situation.”
“Better not be anything illegal.”
Jane laughed aloud. “No, counselor, she didn’t do anything illegal. If you want to negotiate, she’s spending her morning at the New York Sport Club. Better go over there now, so you can catch her before she finds another date.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him off. “Yes, I’ll call ahead and plead your case.”
He cruised over and planted a fast kiss on her cheek before hitting the exit. “Just make sure New Girl knows the relationship is all business.”
“Be grateful. You’ll be damned lucky if she agrees to this scheme of yours.” Hustling out from behind the desk, she called to his retreating back. “And don’t call her New Girl.” He waved a hand in the air and kept walking as her voice leaped up an octave. “Seriously, Nick, if you hurt this girl, I will be forced to go all Don Corleone on your ass.” At the sound of her palm hitting the doorjamb, a smile creased his face. “Remember the cannoli.”
“Love you, Janey.”
Nick turned to give his sister a wink. He was unafraid of her jabs about the cannoli. But he got the point. Assuming the new girl agreed to play fiancée, Nick’s rules did not apply. He wasn’t about to screw around with his sister’s friend. This engagement was a totally hands-off situation, which was completely fine by him. He was growing tired of sleeping around. His phone always pinging. Feminine texts with emoticon hearts interrupting him at work. A new woman every other week had worked fine until a recent ex-hookup set him up with a fake Tinder account that sent his phone ringing off the hook. Yeah, a break from dating might be nice. And who knew? As long as there was no danger of commitment, this engagement deal could be a good thing, especially considering the women hassling him for promises and the bind his reputation had gotten him into at work. Yes, this could work, and despite the fact that New Girl was as far away from his type as a woman could get, he was already grateful to her for saving his ass.
Potentially saving his ass. If she agreed. God, please let her agree.
Only one issue left on the table. One possible glitch. He’d seen the scheming glint in his sister’s eyes before she’d switched over into Mafia mode. Cupid had strapped on her wings. But if she thought for one second he was going to fall for her matchmaking tricks and ride off into the sunset with Little Miss Cardigan, well, she had another thing coming.
Nick Wright fell for no woman.
Chapter Three
“A wise girl kisses but doesn’t love, listens but doesn’t believe, and leaves before she is left.”
—Marilyn Monroe
Dance it out, Marianne thought, swiveling her hips to the Latin rhythms emanating from the gym’s built-in speakers. Just dance it out. From the back row of her third Zumba class, she followed the instructor’s choreography with enough desperation to dispel her recent misguided mistakes. A memory-killing salsa move to the left, a hypnotic twist of merengue to the right. Throw in some “Jenny From the Block”. Dance that inner siren back to the grotto…turn the deadbolt…and cover it with duct tape. Lots and lots and lots of duct tape. She rolled her hips forward. That darned siren was never coming out again.
Talk about a weekend of regret. Even thinking about kissing Nick near the blurred edge of the spotlight Friday night made her sweat-slicked skin burn with humiliation. All she’d wanted was a chance to test-drive her skills, but the whole siren thing worked better in theory than practice. A tiny crush was fine, but that kiss…that kiss never should have happened.
Nick Wright was everything she objected to in a man. Arrogant. Rude. Presumptuous. A sweet-talking man’s man all dressed up in a mesmerizing package. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that she’d climbed into the cake or the fact that she’d run off as if the kiss had been more than a simple happy birthday.
Don’t analyze. Just dance.
As if enough Zumba classes would erase the memory of Friday night. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath as the music slowed into cooldown. She’d taken the sequined getup to the dry cleaner and asked them to deliver it directly to Jane so she’d never have to see it again. As for facing Jane…well, Jane was her boss so she couldn’t hide from her forever. She’d avoided her calls all weekend, but now that she’d taken the day off, Jane might get worried. Eventually, she’d have to explain the impromptu kiss and her panicked exit.
No sense overthinking the situation. She grabbed her water bottle and headed downstairs to shower and change. Best to simply put the weekend behind her, resume her normal life, and forget all about kissing Nick Wright. Easy peasy.
Once at her locker, she pulled out a fresh towel, her neatly organized toiletries, and her cell. Unsurprisingly, there were a few texts from her boss. She stabbed her rec specs against the bridge of her nose and opened the most recent message. The answer to your homecoming prayers is waiting outside. Cryptic, even for Jane.
Homecoming prayers? M.A. returned her towel and cosmetics bag to the tidy locker and closed it tight. Was she talking about her dad’s fresh-out-of-federal-prison party? Yes, she’d mentioned needing a date, but Cupid wouldn’t try her tricks on her. Would she? A nervous feeling settled in her stomach, and Marianne hurried up the stairs. She didn’t like surprises, especially surprises that couldn’t be managed or quantified, she thought, bursting out the front door of the gym. Especially surprises that looked like Nick Wright.
The breath rushed out of her body. What was he doing here? Besides leaning against the silver railing on the outskirts of the fountain, looking all self-assured and male in his to-die-for pinstripes and power tie. Egotistical. Overconfident.
So not her type.
Except that he was totally her type. Dark hair, cropped close, always perfectly neat. Blue eyes the color of a dark and stormy summer sky. And a stride as measured as a metronome.
He looked over and caught sight of her, his blue eyes narrowing as if he wasn’t sure it was her. Not surprising. He’d never even looked at her before, not really. Mostly, he seemed to smile through her, always charming, always slightly distant. He eased away from the railing in a smooth move and walked toward her in that deliberate way of his.
A sudden tidal wave of panic rushed through her. Did he know she was the girl from the cake? Was that why he was here? Her humiliated heart beat wildly against the spandex, knowing she’d have to face him every week in the office. Hells bells, she’d kissed him. She’d have to quit her job and move to another state—no, another country—and she wasn’t even very good with languages. She shook her head as if to clear away the panic. Jane wouldn’t betray her confidence that way. But then, why was he here? He couldn’t possibly be…her date? In his cool, even stride, he closed the distance between them. “Hello, Marianne.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. That voice. That deep, honeyed, ready-to-teach-a-buttoned-up-libido-a-thing-or-two voice. He was gorgeous, yes, but it was his voice that made her knees buckle. She wanted to hear him whispering sweet everythings in her ear. She’d had dreams about that voice. Late night dreams. “You called me Marianne.”
Taller than her by a good six or seven inches, even with her one stair advantage, he gazed down at her. His perfect mouth curved into a playful smile. “That is your name, right?”
Marianne’s face scrunched up behind the glasses. Had she fallen down the rabbit hole into an alternative universe? The easy manner. The smile. The teasing tone.
Was he flirting?
With her.
Outside New York Sport Club.
Unexpectedly His Page 2
