by Noelle Adams
Her shoulders stiffened. She might be embarrassed by her grandmother’s behavior herself, but that didn’t give this man any reason to look down on them that way. “It’s nice to meet you too. Sorry for the interruption,” she said, with as much composure as she could muster. “We’ll let you get back to your conversation.”
She turned to leave, resenting the hell out of Mitchell’s arrogantly amused expression.
“You will stay here,” her grandmother said firmly, giving her the look the sisters had always called her “evil eye”—the one that allowed no dispute. “There is no interruption.”
Deanna was about to object, partly because she wanted to sink into the ground to get away from this conversation and partly because she had no interest in talking to this man, who seemed to become more of an ass as the moments passed.
But her objection would upset her grandmother. She would act angry but would actually be hurt. Then Deanna would feel guilty. Then her grandmother would sulk for a few days, and the whole household would be thrown out of whack.
It just wasn’t worth it. She could talk to Mitchell for a couple of minutes and not risk anyone being hurt. So she sighed and turned back.
“I will let you get acquainted,” her grandmother said with a nod of satisfaction, before she turned and walked away.
Mitchell’s expression changed from amusement to an acute observation that looked almost disdainful. As if he was judging her. As if he thought she was weak or spineless or silly. As if he knew her at all.
She liked this man even less now than she had the moment before.
“So, what brings you here tonight?” she asked, since she had to say something.
“Business,” he said, his eyes drifting around the well-dressed crowd. “This ridiculous, outdated ritual isn’t exactly my scene.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought it was.” Her tone might have been a little cool, but everything in his look and tone seemed to be judging her, judging them, and she didn’t appreciate it.
“How old are you?” he asked, his eyes landing on her face again.
She stiffened. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a simple enough question. I don’t believe in standing on ceremony, and I wanted to know.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because you look like you’re too old to still be under your grandmother’s control.”
She gasped in indignation. “I’m not under my grandmother’s control.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Is that the story you’re going with?”
He was still ludicrously handsome, even as she wanted to scratch the skin off his face. She snapped her mouth closed to keep herself from telling him exactly what she thought of him. Instead, she turned on her heel to walk away from him.
She was sorry if it would disappoint her grandmother, but there was no way in hell she was going to spend any more time with this jackass.
Her grandmother’s dreams of a rich marriage weren’t going to be fulfilled with Mitchell Graves. That was for sure.
***
Mitchell Graves hated parties like this. A bunch of nostalgic idiots trying to recreate a romanticized past that had never existed.
He wouldn’t have come at all, except he needed to talk to the Fentons about a business deal he really wanted to happen.
The Fentons owned the Darlington Café, and Mitchell was determined to buy them out. For the first time in years, they were considering getting out of the business, so he thought they’d very likely accept a reasonable offer, as long as they liked and trusted Mitchell.
Since they believed in these throwback parties, Mitchell had to go. And he had to play nice, even though George’s affability was grating on him and Gina kept flirting with him.
Mitchell was certainly not opposed to using sex when it served his purpose, but he wasn’t at all attracted to Gina Fenton, and having sex with her would almost certainly come back to bite him in the ass.
So, aside from the one brief encounter with Deanna Beaufort, he wasn’t having a very good night.
Deanna was absolutely gorgeous—small and curvy with thick dark hair and those mesmerizing green eyes. There was a spirit that seemed trapped inside her quiet, restrained persona, as if she was someone else, someone she couldn’t let the rest of the world see. He could sense that in her—a kind of passion that appealed to him—even as he tried not to laugh at her grandmother’s shameless attempts to pair her off with a rich man.
Mitchell didn’t believe in marriage, and that wasn’t going to change. It was another of those stupid things people did because they thought they had to. So he could laugh privately at the absurdity without feeling much threat.
He enjoyed it even more when Deanna obviously got angry with him and did her best to hide it.
He’d like to get to know her better, but the Darlington Café was more important.
Things had always come easily to Mitchell. He’d done well at school and in sports and in debate without even trying. He’d sailed through college and grad school, earning an MBA without breaking a sweat. He’d convinced some investors to help him buy out a dying hotel in historic Savannah, since he was sure he could turn the place around.
It hadn’t taken much effort on his part, but it had worked. The Claremont was now more successful than he could have imagined, and he wasn’t even thirty-five years old yet.
Life was easy. Women were easy. There wasn’t much sense in taking things seriously. That was one of the reasons he was so intrigued by Deanna, who seemed to take everything seriously.
He didn’t have time for her tonight, though. He had George Fenton squarely on his side, which meant he just had to convince Gina.
He needed to play it exactly right. She’d obviously been interested in him from the first time they met, but she was much more open about it tonight than she’d been before. If he flirted with her, she would keep coming on to him, and then things would get sticky. But if he held her at arm’s length, she might get her pride hurt, and she could block the deal merely out of spite.
Mitchell was still trying to figure out the best strategy when he found her talking to her brother.
She smiled as he approached, something intimate in her expression that was troubling and entirely inappropriate, as if she was sure he would fold to her advances.
Maybe she thought he was a business whore—willing to sleep his way into the deal.
He had sex a lot. None of it serious. But the only times he had sex with a business partner or associate was when he genuinely wanted to.
He didn’t want to sleep with Gina. She wasn’t unattractive, but she gave him unpleasant vibes.
“Get me a drink, Mitchell?” she asked, taking his arm possessively.
“Sure.” He smiled—his normal, easy, charismatic smile, but his mind was working fast. He had to figure out a way out of this bind, how to reject her without offending her.
He wanted the Darlington Café. He wanted it so much he could feel it in his chest. He wasn’t going to blow the deal over something so trivial.
Instead of heading for the bar, Gina pulled him into a side room off the main ballroom. Before he could react, she had him pressed up against a wall and was rubbing her body against him.
This was terrible. She was shameless, and she evidently thought he wouldn’t object since he wanted the restaurant so much.
“Gina, wait,” he said, trying not to sound trapped, although he was starting to feel that way.
“Why do we have to wait?” She was pressing kisses on his jaw and around his mouth.
He managed to hold her back without tightening his grip. Any moment, she was going to get mad and the whole deal would be blown. “Because I can’t…I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
He couldn’t say he didn’t want her. It might be true, but it would hopelessly offend her. “Because I’m…I’m not available.”
That would work. That would be a good excuse. If he w
as already with someone, then he couldn’t be with her, and it wouldn’t be personal at all.
Perfect.
“You’re not with someone else. I would have heard.” She ran her hand down his chest and abdomen until it almost reached his groin.
Mitchell really didn’t want this woman to touch him there. “We’re keeping it quiet to avoid gossip, but I’m already with someone else.”
“Unless you’re engaged…”
“I am engaged.” Why the hell not? If he could have a fictional girlfriend, then he could have a fictional fiancée. That would make for an even better excuse, and it might be the only way out of this tangle.
Gina gasped audibly and stepped back. “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.”
“I don’t.” Mitchell rubbed his face, thinking as quickly as he could. This was turning complicated, but he couldn’t take it back without sacrificing the Darlington Café. “But I fell in love. What can I say? Maybe I’m predictable after all. I’m sorry if it led to any misunderstandings. But you’ll understand if I can’t…”
He trailed off, hoping this would be enough. He told lies when he needed to—if it was the best way to achieve his objective. It was all part of business, and this would definitely count.
“I guess so. I wish I’d known.” She was starting to look a little embarrassed, which was good, but there was still a spark of suspicion in her eyes, as if she didn’t quite believe him. “Who are you engaged to?”
Now he was really trapped. He’d have to make up someone from a different state, but then there would be a whole backstory he’d have to concoct to make it believable, since he wasn’t out of town enough for a long-distance relationship.
Maybe she could be a recluse who never left home.
Maybe she could be dying and the story could be a tragic love story.
Maybe she could have an abusive father.
Before he could come up with a believable story, the door of the room opened and Mrs. Beaufort walked in with Deanna trailing behind.
“Grandmama,” Deanna was saying, looking frustrated and tired and still incredibly pretty. “I don’t need to freshen—“ She broke off when she saw the room was occupied. “Oh, sorry.” Her eyes slid from Mitchell to Gina and back again.
Mitchell suddenly had a brainstorm. The perfect solution to the knot he’d bound himself in. There was always an easy answer. He just had to wait until it appeared.
He turned to Gina. “This is her,” he said, giving Deanna a broad smile. “This is my fiancée. Deanna Beaufort.”
Deanna’s big eyes got even bigger as she stared at him speechlessly.
But Mrs. Beaufort, that savvy, ambitious old lady, evidently had a mind that worked like a machine. She straightened up, a look of recognition washing over her face, and she said, “Yes, my granddaughter is engaged to Mr. Graves. We weren’t planning to announce it yet, however.”
“Grandmama,” Deanna breathed, staring numbly at her grandmother. She was obviously too stunned to keep up.
But Mitchell had taken his measure of her in the brief conversation they’d had before, and he was sure she wasn’t going to object. She obviously did anything for her grandmother, no matter how little she wanted to do it.
He could use it. It was what he did. Take a quick assessment of other people and use it for his advantage. “I know we weren’t announcing it yet, but I felt like I needed to tell Ms. Fenton.” He turned back to Gina. “I’m very sorry. I hope you’ll understand.”
“Of course.” Gina didn’t look offended now. She looked surprised and curious and almost maliciously intrigued. “When will you get married?”
“We haven’t set the date yet,” Mrs. Beaufort said, obviously thinking as quickly as Mitchell was. “We’re trying to avoid a lot of gossip. You know how people are. But we are all very pleased with the match.”
Mitchell had no doubts that Mrs. Beaufort was pleased. She wouldn’t hesitate to use this to her advantage as well. And Mitchell was pleased to have gotten himself out of his bind without losing the sale of the Darlington Café.
But one look at Deanna’s face made it clear she wasn’t pleased. She appeared to still be in shock, but pretty soon it would catch up to her, and she would have a few things to say about being trapped in a pseudo-engagement with him.
Mitchell would deal with it then, though. He wasn’t particularly worried.
He’d learned a long time ago that life could always be easy if you were smart enough to make it work for you.
Two
“You have got to be out of your mind!”
His sister’s voice reverberated through the speakers in Mitchell’s car, louder than normal because she was clearly so shocked.
“Calm down,” he said. “It isn’t that big a deal.”
“Not a big deal!” Brie was twenty-six—eight years younger than him—and they’d never been close until the last couple of years, when she’d moved back to Savannah as an adult. She’d gone to art school, specializing in stained glass work, and she was finishing up a job helping to restore an old church in the city. She was usually easy-going, so it took Mitchell aback that she was so outraged by this idea, even though he probably should have expected it.
“Of course, it’s a big deal! You’re thinking about getting married just to get the Darlington. It’s absolutely insane.”
“It’s not like it would be a permanent marriage. Just six months or something—long enough for the deal to go through. Then we can have an amicable divorce and move on. It will be more like a business partnership. Nothing earth-shattering about that.”
“But marriage? What would you do with a wife? You can’t even manage to get a serious girlfriend.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean. Commitment is not one of your strengths. I’m serious. You’re actually planning to be a husband for six months.”
“Just on paper.”
There was silence on the other end of the call as Brie obviously tried to process all of this. “What the hell kind of girl agreed to this wacky plan?”
“Deanna Beaufort. Have you ever met her?”
“I don’t think so. Does she have some kind of crazy grandma?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“I’ve heard the grandma has all her dead lovers stuffed and kept in a gallery in their decrepit old house.”
Mitchell gave a huff of amusement. “That’s nonsense. The grandmother is definitely out of touch with reality, but that’s working in my favor. She’s desperate to marry Deanna off to a rich man, so she jumped at this chance. It’s going to work out well for both of us.”
“But what about poor Deanna? She actually wants to marry you?”
“I don’t think so, but she seems pretty spineless and will do whatever her grandmother wants.”
“So she’s being taken advantage of here? That’s just great.”
He cleared his throat, getting a little annoyed at how his sister was blowing it out of proportion. “She’s not being sold off to the highest bidder. It’s a business deal. It’s just six months of her time, and they’ll get to restore that monster of a house. The terms of the contract will be perfectly fair, and you don’t think I’m going to be cruel to her or anything, do you?”
“Not intentionally, no.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He was starting to get offended now.
“It means you’re not going to do anything to hurt her on purpose, but she may get hurt anyway. A marriage is different than a handshake, you know.”
“It doesn’t have to be. It’s all just on paper, I’ve told you before.”
“So you’re not going to even live together.”
He hesitated. “No, we’ll have to, or Gina won’t believe it’s for real. We’ll keep up appearances, but that’s it. Her lifestyle with me will be more comfortable than the one she has now. What the hell will she have to complain about?”
“And what if she wants more than being treated as some sort
of paid escort?”
He made a growly sound in his throat. “She’s not going to want more. I don’t even think she likes me, if her expression is anything to go on.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better.”
“Would you stop?” His tone was a little sharp, since he was running out of patience. “It’s just six months. I’ll fix her up a room in my place exactly as she wants it. She’ll only be obligated to be seen with me socially a limited amount. We don’t have to interact otherwise. It will be fine.”
“And she’ll agree to all this?”
“We’ll work it all out in a contract. No one will be taken advantage of. What kind of man do you think I am?”
Brie didn’t answer right away, and when she did her tone was reluctant. “I think you’re a man who’s used to always getting what he wants without trying too hard. This feels like a shortcut to me, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. Someone is going to get hurt.”
“No one is going to get hurt.”
“I don’t think the restaurant is worth all of this.”
Mitchell felt a chill run through him. “It is. You know it is.”
“I know it means something to Mom, but she would never want you to—“
“She’s never going to know what I did to make this happen. Promise me you won’t tell her.”
“Mitchell—“
“Promise me.”
Brie sighed audibly. “I promise I won’t tell her. But she wouldn’t want this.”
“I swore we’d get the restaurant back before she dies, and I’ll do whatever I need to do to make it happen. This marriage is nothing compared to that.”
Brie sighed. “I hope you still think so six months from now.”
Mitchel bit back a sharp response, since Brie always liked to have the last word. Having the last word never mattered much to him. It was easier to just let other people have it when they got like this, since it didn’t make any difference to reality.
