by Lori Wilde
She shouldn’t waste time thinking about him. Sure, he was Mr. Too Sexy to Believe, but she wanted a guy who’d wake up beside her for the rest of her life. Zack made it clear that wasn’t him. He was willing—make that eager—to give away his share of a big company to avoid getting married.
Julie came with program notes for the day’s taping, and Megan forced herself to pay attention to the problems at hand.
The intern was wearing a dark-green shirt, which Megan hoped signified a slight lightening of Julie’s tragic mood. She mentioned Brad about a dozen times, making Megan think she was over her crush and was now interested in her fellow intern.
Heck, if the Goth intern could recover, Megan could get over Bailey. He wasn’t the only sexy hunk in the world, just the only one she loved.
Julie left, and Megan was headed toward her dressing room for makeup when she nearly collided with the person she least wanted to see.
“Zack, what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
He took her elbow and ushered her into the dressing room, closing the door behind them.
The little cubicle had never seemed smaller, and she didn’t want any one-on-one with this man.
“I have to get ready for the taping,” she said.
“You have plenty of time.”
“Not for you, I don’t.”
“Don’t worry.” He raised both hands in a theatrical gesture that only annoyed her. “I won’t touch you.”
“You certainly won’t.”
She was backed against the dressing table and honest enough to know he wasn’t the one she didn’t trust.
“I’m sorry I left so…”
“Abruptly?”
“You were fantastic. Running off had nothing to do with you.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Anyway, I wondered if you’ll marry me.”
“What?”
“I put that badly. Would you consider pretending to get engaged?”
“Isn’t that rushing it a bit?”
She knew this was only another ploy to hold off his grandfather, so why could she feel the pulse pounding in her throat?
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact and uninvolved. “It’s nothing but a big farce.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. Was it possible Zack was uncomfortable? She’d never met anyone as much at home with who he was, but he was definitely fidgeting.
“Yesterday wasn’t about fooling my grandfather,” he replied, still sounding unsure of himself.
Or maybe he was using his dubious charm to con her deeper into this charade.
“Was he mad we missed dinner?”
“Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“About the dinner, no. But he isn’t sure we’re an item.”
She knew it. Once again, all of this had to do with his stupid plan.
“He saw us at the restaurant.”
“Yeah, but—well, I’ve had a few girlfriends in the past.”
“A few?”
“A lot, okay?”
“I still don’t see…”
“Just because he thinks we slept together doesn’t mean he believes I’m going to set up permanent housekeeping with you.”
“I understand,” she said glumly. “Marsh doesn’t doubt the sexual attraction, but he doesn’t buy the commitment part.”
“You make it sound pretty cold.”
She didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I have to get ready for the show. By the way, someone is coming from the Good Living Network on Wednesday. Please try to behave.”
“You don’t understand about Marsh. He thinks you’re too classy for me. He doesn’t believe you even like me.”
“Your grandfather is very perceptive.”
“All I’m asking you to do is go to dinner at his house Friday evening. Meet my mom, charm the old boy. I have my fingers crossed Cole will be in the daddy business pretty soon. Believe me, Marsh wants a great-grandchild a whole lot more than he wants me to get married. Even a tentative engagement will keep him from bugging me about meeting his friends’ granddaughters.”
“What about your mother? Is it fair to let her think we’re going to get married?”
“She’ll get over losing a prospective daughter-in-law once there’s a grandchild on the way.”
“I’m glad I’m easily disposable.”
He was dressed for work—scruffy boots, tight jeans, and a black faded T-shirt. She ached to snuggle against him, but it wasn’t going to happen, not ever.
“I’m sorry I started this,” he said in a gruff voice, “but Marsh was driving me crazy. Since Cole got married, he won’t give me breathing space. I’ve kept my part of the deal with the show, haven’t I?”
She couldn’t deny it even though he rarely did things her way. Her dilemma was she needed him for the Wednesday taping. She didn’t have time to script a whole new show eliminating his part.
Worse, the audience loved their on-air friction. The show might fall flat without him, and her chance of moving to a cable network would be lost.
“If I go along with you, will you cooperate on Wednesday’s show?”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said solemnly.
“No playing sick?”
“I’m not proud of that.”
“No grandstanding?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You know.”
He didn’t argue.
“You help me. I’ll do all I can to impress the cable guys,” he said.
“No. Don’t impress them. Just follow the script. They’re not here to scout you.”
“There’s not enough money in the world to get me to make a career in the glamorous world of TV.” He sounded grim.
“All right, I’ll marry you,” she said, not trying to hide her skepticism.
“Great. Shake on it.”
He held out his big hand, and she touched it lightly, pulling hers away before he could engulf it.
One more show, one more date, and she could seriously start getting him out of her system.
By Friday, Zack was pretty sure it would be safer to take a jungle cat from the Detroit Zoo to Marsh’s house than spend the evening passing Megan off as the love of his life.
What the devil was love, anyway? He loved pro football, downhill skiing, and good sex, not necessarily in that order. Megan had messed up his head so much in the past few weeks he’d rather fight with her than not see her for a day. If that was love, it was scary.
Cole called a few minutes before Zack had to leave.
“Sorry, we can’t make it tonight,” his brother said. “Tess isn’t feeling so hot.”
Zack chose to take that as a good sign. Pregnant women were notoriously unwell, weren’t they?
“Any special reason?” he asked.
“Not sure yet.”
“Well, sorry you won’t be there.”
“I think you’ve got a winner there,” Cole said.
“Megan?”
“You could do a lot worse.”
“Forget it. You’re the marrying one in the family.”
“I didn’t think so until I fell for Tess.”
That wasn’t what Zack wanted to hear from his twin, but he couldn’t expect much support from him. Marriage had changed Cole. He refused to acknowledge that Zack was their father’s son, a man who should never risk hurting someone he cared about by marrying her. Especially not a woman who wanted stability and kids. For all he knew, he didn’t have a paternal gene in his body.
He picked her up fifteen minutes early with a full tank of gas. She was ready, and he couldn’t fault her meet-the-family outfit.
The dress was navy linen with white buttons down the front, short but not too short. The little sleeves left most of her arms bare, and he liked that. She had gorgeous arms, not an ounce of loose flesh, and skin so smooth and
flawless it hardly seemed real. Her legs were sleek and shapely.
“You look nice,” he offered.
“Thank you.”
There was frost in her attitude, and he could only hope she’d warm up by the time they got to Marsh’s.
They talked about the weather as they drove to Bloomfield Hills, which was like not talking at all, as far as he was concerned.
As a kid, he’d always been embarrassed when a friend saw the house where he lived for the first time. It had all the trappings of the good life—circular drive, Tudor facade, carefully manicured greenery, a garden with lacy iron furniture and an indoor domed pool with paneled walls that were removed to let fresh air circulate in the summer. It was as pretentious as his grandfather.
Megan didn’t make a fuss over the place. In fact, she didn’t seem to take much notice of it.
“Did your grandfather watch the show we taped Wednesday?” she asked as he stopped the car in the drive.
“’Fraid so.”
“Great. He’s more likely to believe I’ve hired a hitman to take you out than that I agreed to marry you.”
“The audience loved that show,” he said defensively.
“They loved seeing you staple the hem of my skirt.”
“I’ve already apologized. It’s not my fault you had me using such a cheap staple gun.”
“You knew the Good Living Network people were watching. You were playing up to your dopey fans instead of paying attention to the job.”
“I warned you not to get in the way when I was working.”
“Well, you owe me a skirt. You shredded the hem getting the staple out.”
“I could have done better if you’d taken it off.” That was sure to rile her, but he didn’t care.
“You’re the only stripper on my show.”
“Will you please stop complaining and act like you’re in love with me?”
“If I could act that well, I’d set my sights on a movie career.”
He walked around and opened the car door for her, knowing full well Marsh was probably watching from a front window.
“At least don’t act like you hate me,” he said. “I didn’t purposely mess up your show.”
Marsh answered the door with Zack’s mother hovering a discreet distance away.
“This is Megan Danbury,” Zack said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Megan. Your grandfather and I are teaming up for several seniors’ tournaments this year.”
“He does love his golf.”
Zack gave her an A-plus for the smile, but then, Marsh had a way with women—or thought he did.
“Mom, this is Megan,” he said, guiding her through the arched entryway to a huge living room crowded with period furniture and Marsh’s glass, ceramic, and art collections, which had the makings of a whole museum wing if the old man could find a taker.
Zack could count on his mother. She was gracious and natural at the same time, maybe the reason her sons weren’t stuffed-shirt snobs like Marsh.
They followed the Bailey predinner ritual—sherry, small talk, and a lecture on one of Marsh’s current pet peeves.
This evening the topic was unsafe toys. He was mad because a pull toy he’d designed had run into pre-production safety problems just as Sue had warned him it would. She was so good at her job and it was worth this charade to make sure she could keep it.
Dinner was the usual, as they were served Cornish hens with wild rice and a vegetable medley. Marsh’s longtime cook was a doll, even allowing him to bully her into wearing a black dress and a frilly white apron to serve the meal. Everyone in the family knew she ruled the kitchen and controlled the old man’s heart diet with an iron hand.
Sue carried the conversation, maybe to shield Megan from the grand inquisitor at the head of the long formal dining table. She and Megan really hit it off, but then, Sue adored Tess, too. Maybe she regretted not having a daughter.
Zack and Cole had given her a hard time when they were younger, beginning with their rebellion against being catalog models for Bailey Baby Products. Nick was no angel, either, never mind that he was a half-brother. They weren’t exactly the best influences as older siblings.
Throughout the meal, Zack threw in an occasional “darlin’” and “sweetheart” to demonstrate what a lovey-dovey couple they were. Megan tolerated it, but when he squeezed her knee under the table, she pried off his fingers and gave him an evil look.
He’d better drop the bombshell before she blew the plan.
“Megan and I have a surprise for you,” he said with saccharine sweetness. “She’s consented to be my wife.”
Smile, dammit, Megan. It was the least she could do after he’d grinned like a trained chimp all the way through her big audition tape for those cable people. The skirt thing was her fault. The woman should know better than to distract a man who was holding a staple gun by bending over.
“Of course, it will have to be a long engagement,” she said.
“Career is very important to Megan,” he said. “She had a national cable network looking at her in the last show.”
“Was stapling her skirt in the script?” Marsh asked.
“Of course, it was,” Megan lied.
Was she covering for him for a reason?
“I thought maybe you two were having a little spat on camera,” Marsh said.
“That’s our show-business persona,” Zack said.
If Marsh bought that, he had some nice land to sell him—at the bottom of the Detroit River.
“Well, I couldn’t be more pleasantly surprised,” Marsh said, standing and walking to Megan.
He took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and bent to plant a kiss on her cheek. He might not believe them, but apparently, he’d decided to play along and see what happened.
Zack’s mother sounded genuinely pleased. Zack felt rotten about deceiving her, but he had to humor Marsh until his share of the family stock was safely in Cole Jr.’s—or Tess Jr.’s—name.
For years, Marsh had threatened to sell a controlling interest in Bailey Baby Products to strangers because none of his grandsons showed any interest whatsoever in the business. If he did, his mother’s chances of remaining as CEO were slight. Zack was doing this for her even if she wouldn’t approve of his mock engagement.
After a lot more chitchat and another round of hugging between everyone but him and Megan, the ordeal was over.
“Come on, sweetheart. It’s time I get you all to myself,” he murmured loudly enough to be overheard.
“Whatever you say, darling.”
They were two steps outside the closed front door when she whipped out her cell phone.
“What are you doing?” He edged in close behind her in case Marsh was watching through the window.
“Calling for a ride, you low-down skunk. I know what you’re up to. You’re going to make me the bad guy. I’ll have to dump you because my career is more important than my fiancé.”
“That’s one way to do it,” he said cautiously, not willing to admit he’d been thinking exactly that.
“How can I face a sweet person like your mom with that phony story?”
“You won’t have to. I’ll tell her when it’s time.”
“Why don’t you just grow up and settle down?”
She was furiously tapping the screen. He grabbed the phone and turned it off.
“Give that back.”
“No, I’m taking you home. And don’t worry, I’m not coming in.”
“I wouldn’t let you if you were the last man on earth.”
She got her hand on the phone, but he didn’t let go.
“You’re not calling a car.”
“No, I’m calling a friend.”
What he was thinking wasn’t a good plan, but he couldn’t come up with anything else. He scooped her up in his arms, taking her by surprise and allowing her to do a minimum amount of kicking and squirming.
“Put me down!”
“No way and stop yelling. Do y
ou want the neighbors to call the police?” he asked, carrying her to the car.
“You’re worried about your grandfather, not neighbors.”
Trees and the gentle swell of the land blocked the nearest houses from sight, but he could practically feel Marsh’s eyes through the opaque front window. He shut her up the only way he could—a long, hard kiss on her open mouth.
He let her slide to her feet beside the car while he opened the door, then he blocked the escape route, giving her no choice but to get inside.
He buckled her in and furiously ordered her to quiet down. Amazingly, she did. Maybe she was too mad to say another word.
The long, silent ride home seemed to confirm it.
He stopped on the street in front of her apartment building, not even bothering to drive around to the rear entrance she usually used. “Good night,” he said stiffly.
She didn’t bother to respond.
This was going to be a very short engagement.
11
Zack’s head ached, and his throat was scratchy. His nose was stuffy, and his eyes had gray shadows under them. He had a genuine summer cold, not serious enough to keep him from going to work, but the best excuse he’d had yet for not taping another show.
Unfortunately, Megan wouldn’t buy it, and he couldn’t blame her. The dumbest thing he’d done since they met was pretend to be sick—and get caught.
He showed up at the studio for yet another farcical guest appearance. Ed had called to be sure he would be there. The Good Living Network was taking a second look at Megan’s show.
He must have been crazy to agree to do twelve stints.
He and Megan hadn’t spoken since the dinner at Marsh’s, his fault more than hers. He didn’t know what to say about the whole fiasco, and they’d moved beyond recriminations and apologies.
There was more wrong with him than a head cold. He was so eager to see her, he forgot his usual preshow jitters.
“Zack, I have some people who’d like to meet you,” Ed said, waylaying him in the reception area before he could find Megan.
“Where’s Megan?”
“Around here somewhere. Come on.”
The ex-jock could really move when he was motivated. Zack followed him to the set, refusing to break into a trot to keep up.
