by Caroline Lee
Cait was currently down in Australia with her husband, Archie as he filmed his latest movie. Now that they owned that stunning yacht, the couple was always going on adventures together. Katie had been thrilled to be involved in their impromptu wedding ceremony back in February—who knew it was possible to get a suntan in the middle of winter?—and she was really happy for her best friend. She was even happier they had cell phones which worked anywhere in the world, so she could get Cait’s advice.
After that birthday conversation, she'd spent a really long time looking over the information in the portfolio; in fact, she’d devoted most of Monday to that. She was no lawyer, but everything looked very straightforward, and exactly the way Kenneth had described sitting there at her kitchen table. She called Cait back yesterday, and they spent another long time going over the details.
“So what are you going to do?” Cait had asked.
Last night, Katie didn't have an answer for her friend...and she didn't have one now. It was an amazing deal, but she wasn't sure if she could go through with it.
Heading towards the stage, Katie situated herself at one of the high-tops. She knew even if the place got busy, without a live performance tonight, the tables around the stage would remain empty. And that suited her just fine, especially for the conversation she knew she and Kenneth needed to have.
It still felt so surreal, this happening to her. She wasn't sure if she was offended or not to be chosen out of a lineup like that, but maybe that's how billionaires did things. Oh yes, he was definitely a billionaire. As she and Cait had chatted, they’d both done some pretty intense Google searching. If anything, Kenneth had underestimated his value. According to the sites they perused—everything from Fashion blogs to red carpet news—the Weston brand was worth everything he said, and more.
And from an artistic point of view, Katie had been impressed. The man she'd met had seemed so focused and in command, it was hard to reconcile him with somebody who must allow his imagination such free rein as to create some of the gowns she’d seen. None of them were outrageous; they were all tasteful gowns, with truly memorable designs. But some of them showed a whimsy she hadn't expected from the carefully controlled man who’d sat at her kitchen table and given her this portfolio of numbers and legalese.
Now, she placed the portfolio on the table in front of her. One hundred thousand dollars. That was an unheard of amount of money, at least all at one time.
Katie used to be a waitress right here at Quinn’s and knew most of the people in town. Soap-making had gone from a hobby to a business—and allowed her to quit waitressing—when some of the local shops started carrying her products. She'd always sold online, but she wasn't able to make a living out of soap-making until she discovered the wonders of YouTube. But even now, she didn't make close to that amount of money in an entire year.
And with that amount of money, all in a lump sum like that, Alyssa could send Jeremiah to the school he needed to go to. The school which would be right for him. Not only that, but Jerm being at St. Agnes would be so much easier for Alyssa. The school wasn't so far she couldn't drive him, and if she had a birth, Katie or Dusty could help with transportation, since they both lived in town. With Jerm someplace known for their special needs program, Alyssa could focus on her own career, instead of spending so much time and energy advocating for his schooling. It was almost an impossible dream...until now.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” she whispered, just trying out the sound of it on her tongue. She'd so rarely had a reason to say that sum, after all. That was ten years’ worth of schooling for Jerm. “One hundred thousand dollars.”
“Talking to yourself again?” her cousin Ivy teased as she bounced up to the table. “It's only a problem if you answer yourself too!”
Katie stuck out her tongue. “It's the only way I can have an intelligent conversation around here,” she quipped.
Her cousin rolled her eyes theatrically. “Don't I know it! So what can I get you?”
“I'll take a Diet Sprite and…”
What did one order for their possible husband-to-be? A husband-to-be she didn't know at all?
“And he'll have a water. I guess,” she added with a shrug.
Ivy’s brows went up. “You guess? How about I bring a water, then come back to check once this mysterious he arrives.” She winked. “I, for one, am grateful for all of these first dates my cousins are bringing to this place. Gives us a chance to check them out and make sure they're not total sleazeballs or something. Got to look out for each other, after all.”
“It's not a date,” Katie protested weakly. “It's just a business meeting.”
Ivy’s gaze dropped once to the portfolio on the table, then she shrugged. “Okay! Diet Sprite for you and water for your business associate!”
After she headed for the kitchen, Katie breathed a sigh of relief, which promptly turned into a choke of panic when she saw Kenneth arrive.
He was just as handsome as she remembered. Maybe even more so, because today he wasn't wearing a suit. But as he sauntered across the restaurant floor, she had the chance to admire how nice his legs looked in tailored jeans. Were those cowboy boots he was wearing? And since it had gotten a little warmer, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his checkered shirt, and she could see the way his forearms were sprinkled with little blond hairs. Had she ever considered forearms sexy before? She might have to add it to her list of male attributes she appreciated.
No, no male-attributes list! If she agreed to this, soon she would be married.
But for how long? In her family, her cousins were getting married left and right, and everybody was finding love. Could she agree to marry somebody she barely knew...for money? What would her family say? Did she even care what her family would say?
That was the moment he reached her table and a slow smile spread across his handsome face. “Breathe, Katie,” he commanded.
She sucked in a deep breath, not having realized she'd been holding it. Maybe that explained why she felt so light-headed. Surely not because of his smile, right?
He nodded down at the portfolio on the table. “I see you've had a chance to peruse that. What did you think?”
Getting right down to business, huh? She forced herself to breathe evenly to dispel the panic. She could do this. All she needed to do was talk to him, to consider this as a business proposition. Okay.
“I thought it was...very interesting.”
He nodded and slid into the chair opposite her. Why hadn't she noticed how small these tables were before? It was so tiny, both of their hands rested on the portfolio, only inches from one another. And even though her boot heels were propped on the crossbar of the chair, she was certain all it would take was a slight movement to brush their legs against one another.
And why did that sound so appealing?
It had to be well over a minute later by the time Katie realized she was just sitting there, staring at him. But also kind of interesting, was the fact he was sitting there staring at her.
Hmm.
“So…” She wasn't sure how to start. “I thought everything looked pretty fair in here.”
“You did?” Then he shrugged. “Thanks. I was kind of expecting you to…”
“To what?”
He looked a little sheepish when he admitted, “Ask for more money when you figured out what I was worth.”
It honestly hadn't occurred to her. Having a boatload of money had never been high on her life-priorities list. Her cousin Riley was the one who’d always wanted to marry a billionaire!
So she shrugged. “My nephew could really use this amount to go to a special school his mom has picked out. This is more than I could ever reasonably expect. And it's in return for something…”
Now it was his turn to prompt her. “Something...?”
“Well, fairly minor, when you get down to it. I just have to pretend to be married to you for a little bit.”
“Not pretend,” he quickly corrected. “My mom w
ould know the difference. I need this to be real.”
Real. She took another deep breath and nodded. “But it's not permanent. Basically, I'm trading a few months of my life for more money than I could ever make at one time, and I get to help my nephew too. That's very compelling.”
“So what's holding you back?” he asked quietly, a look of intensity in his ice-blue eyes.
She shrugged. “I guess I feel a little silly, agreeing to marry a man I just met.”
“Well, that's what this date is for, right? So we can get to know each other.” That air of confidence was back. “Why don't you tell me why you chose this place?”
When his gaze flickered over the pub, she got the impression he wasn't disapproving of her choice, just curious.
“My cousins own this place. Ryder's new wife is an awesome chef, and I figured you wouldn't be disappointed.”
“Are they Quinns?” His brow went up.
“Half the people in this town are Quinns,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Seriously, there are so many of us! My grandparents are the ones who own Quinn Valley Ranch, and they had four sons and a daughter. My mom always dragged us to all the family events, even my dad, so we're all really close.”
He was nodding. “That's why you're a McIver and not a Quinn?”
Katie tapped the side of her nose. “Got it in one!”
The edges of his lips pulled up, and she was suddenly struck with a thought. What would it be like to kiss him? To have him kiss her?
I guess if we get married, I'll find out.
Ivy chose that awkward moment to bustle over with their drinks. “Hi there, Mr. Business Associate. I'm Ivy, Katie's cousin, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Katie ordered you water, because she wasn't sure what else you wanted.”
Katie felt her cheeks turning pink, but Kenneth just smiled easily. “Water is great, thanks. I checked out your menu online, but tell me about today's special.”
Ivy’s grin grew. “Bethany's meatloaf is the best in the entire world.”
Katie leaned forward on her elbows. “If you're not nicer to me, I'll tell Grams you said hers is second-rate.”
This time, it was Ivy who stuck out her tongue.
“Meatloaf, huh?” Kenneth repeated in a thoughtful voice. “I think...I think I'd like to try Bethany's meatloaf, thanks. With the mashed potatoes on the side.”
When Ivy turned to Katie, Katie rolled her eyes on a sigh. “Bethany's meatloaf is pretty amazing. I'll have it too.”
After Ivy left them, Kenneth's ice-blue gaze focused across the room. He was clearly thinking about something else.
“So...meatloaf?” Katie prompted him, wondering if that's what made him look so thoughtful.
He shook himself, then smiled a little ruefully. “My mom makes amazing meatloaf. At least, she did. I think Marybeth got her recipe, but whenever we're together, she always makes something fancier. I haven't had meatloaf in…” He looked down at the table, where his fingers splayed across the table top. “In a really long time.”
Instinctively, she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. It wasn't that far, and suddenly his fingers twisted so that he was holding her hand. And it felt good.
“Will you tell me about them?” she asked quietly.
That's when he looked up, and the sorrow she saw in his expression told her the careful control she'd seen up until then was just a facade. Here was the real Kenneth, and he was allowing her to see it.
“My mom was a really amazing cook. I didn't appreciate it at the time, because there were four of us, and she was trying to feed us on a budget. But as I got older and went off on my own, I realized how important those home-cooked meals were.” His gaze turned distant again. “More than that, I realized how important it was to have all of us around the table together. Laughing, arguing. Tripp was always arguing about something.”
This was what she wanted to learn. “Did you learn to cook?”
“No.” He shook his head, the corner of his lips turning up once more. “I was too busy, and then I was too rich. I even had a personal chef for a while. Now, I just pick up something on the way home from the gym, or have my assistant pop out to pick up lunch. My favorite restaurants are the five-star, hoity-toity places. But sometimes...I just really want meatloaf, you know?”
She could make a joke about how hard his life sounded—she didn’t think she’d ever been to someplace described as “hoity-toity”—but it didn’t seem appropriate, with the way he was opening up to her. Instead, she squeezed his hand.
“Sounds like maybe you miss home, and the way life used to be.”
“I don't know. I do think about the past a lot, but I'm guessing that's probably just because of the situation my family is in. Two years ago, when Mom's health really started going downhill, I considered moving back home. But at the time, she fought me on it, and has always made a point of telling me how proud she is of what I've accomplished. I guess she said that to all of us though. Except Tripp, obviously.” He shrugged as he added the afterthought. “And I’m proud of my business, I really am…”
When he trailed off, she squeezed his hand again. “Are you trying to convince yourself?”
He met her eyes once more, his lips curling wryly. “You know me pretty well for somebody I just met. Yeah, no matter how many red-carpet shows I go to, no matter how many times I shake the hand of somebody rich and famous, I still feel like an impostor. I built my business, and I know my designs are the heart of it, but I'm not sure that kind of life is really for me.”
Hmm. Interesting. “I have to say, in all the articles I read about you, and all the photos, you look like you belong. You're always so...precise. In control, I guess. That’s the impression I got from you on Sunday too.”
His smile flashed once more, but he didn't look totally comfortable. “That's me. Or at least, half of me. I like things to be ordered, measured. Not everyone else does, but I like to know things are where they're supposed to be.”
“And how about your other half?”
He didn't say anything for a long moment, but just looked at her. His ice-blue eyes flickered back and forth between hers. She couldn't tell if he was considering what to say, or working up the guts to say anything at all.
“There's a part of me, the part which designs my gowns, which isn't ordered or measured or precise at all. It was that part which was so attracted to you and your art. I don't like giving it free rein often, but when I do, wonderful things happen.” His fingers tightened on hers. “Like in this instance.”
A burst of warmth flowed through her. It wasn't the same warmth she'd experienced on Sunday when he touched her hand for the first time. No, this warm feeling seemed to start...in her heart. It bloomed through her chest and down her limbs and up her throat and emerged in the form of a smile so wide, her cheeks hurt.
“I love your smile,” he whispered. “I love how open and honest you are with your reactions and emotions. I saw that in your videos, and even more so in person.”
Yep, definitely blushing now.
His lips quirked in a teasing grin. “Yeah, kinda like that.”
That’s when Ivy showed up with their plates, and Katie couldn’t decide if her cousin had the best timing ever, or the worst.
“Business associates, huh?” Ivy asked, eyeing their clasped hands.
Katie dropped his hand and scrambled to move the portfolio off the table so Ivy could place their platters down. She didn't dare look up again until her cousin left to help another diner. Wracking her brain frantically, Katie tried to come up with a new topic of conversation, one which wouldn’t make her blush. Or blubber.
“So, Weston Creations...? When did you start it?”
As they both dug into Bethany's admittedly delicious meatloaf, he told her all about his business, and his partner, who handled all the parts he hated. He made her laugh with stories about various shows he had to endure, and soon had her gasping as he relayed meetings with various Bridezillas who
’d demanded custom designs. She asked questions about dyes and colors and choices, and at one time, he even grabbed the pen from the portfolio and sketched a re-creation of a particularly difficult pattern on the back of the prenuptial agreement.
Katie was fascinated. He was such a successful businessman, but then there was this whole other side to him, one she could really appreciate, which understood discussions about light play and natural influences. She couldn't decide which side of him she liked better, but by the time their meatloaf and mashed potatoes were gone, she had to admit to herself: she liked both sides of him, the whole of him, very much.
But if she was going to do this, she needed to be sure.
“What’s your favorite holiday tradition?” she blurted out, then winced at how awkward it had sounded.
For his part, Kenneth didn’t hesitate. “Opening Christmas presents, I guess. Oh, and when we were growing up, we’d go to Christmas Eve service at River’s End Ranch and see the lighting of the big tree, and we’d all exchange ornaments. That was nice.”
Her brows went up. That did sound nice. She’d never been, but Andrew had told her about it before.
“How about you?” he prompted.
“Well, my mother plans a Silly String ambush each birthday—”
He began to chuckle. “I wondered why you had colored plastic in your hair the day I met you!”
She rolled her eyes. “Yep. But my favorite is hunting for Easter Eggs. We always go to my family’s church Easter morning, then we all get together for a big meal, but first, the eggs!” Shrugging, she admitted the truth. “I just think it’s so satisfying to hold the smooth, colored eggs. Luckily, my nephew Sean was born when I was still a teenager, so I could pretend the egg hunt was for him. Then Sophie.” She smiled. “Now Jerm. I’m just a perpetual egg-hider-and-finder, I guess.”
“Jerm is your nephew you were talking about earlier in regard to the school?”
The one she needed the money for. She nodded. “He’s five and has some anger issues my sister doesn’t think the local school district is equipped to handle. His favorite tradition is apparently ambushing his favorite aunt with Silly String.”
