“I’m sure you won’t want me to—”
She silenced him with her kiss. He seemed surprised at first, but then put his arms around her. Her head swam, and she pulled back.
He stared at her, as if trying to figure out what she was thinking.
“Good night,” she whispered.
After shutting her door, she leaned against it, her heart fluttering. What was wrong with her? Adam wasn’t to be trusted. She knew that. He was in cahoots with Leon.
But she’d seen a softer side of him tonight. Right?
Wait. She shook her head. He put on a facade every day for the cameras. It had to be fake. He had to be playing it up for the cameras. The whole thing with the deer was an act. A show for the viewers, and to fool her into liking him.
Anger built up inside her, and she tossed her shoes in the closet. She’d almost fallen for it. Adam, the sensitive. Right. He was such a jerk.
But something about the evening bugged her. And when she slipped into her nightgown it hit her.
He hadn’t once looked at his car to see if there was any damage.
Chapter 11
Adam drove down the wet street, Dale in the passenger seat, the camera on his lap. A chime sounded, and he took out his phone. “Leon wants us to film you and Megan dying eggs tomorrow.”
Adam nodded. Of course. He’d known that would happen. “Sure. Whatever.” Irritation slid over him. Didn’t he get any time with Megan away from the camera? Where did his private life end, and his public life begin? He stopped the car in the station parking lot. “I hope Leon’s paying you enough.”
Dale slid out of the car, grinning. “Oh, yeah. By the time this is done, I’ll be rich.” He ran into the building.
The rain had stopped, and a fresh spring smell filled the air. Instead of pulling out of the lot, Adam picked up his phone and dialed Megan.
“Hello?”
“Hey. I wanted to talk to you without…you know…anyone listening in.”
A muffled sound came through the phone, like she was holding it against her shoulder. “Yeah?”
Might as well plunge right in. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to spend Easter with me.”
“Oh, I wasn’t fishing for an invitation.”
“No, I’d love for you to come with me. To meet my father.”
She was silent, and sudden nerves assaulted him. Was that too forward? Was he presuming too much?
Another muffled sound came through. “Um, sure. Okay.”
He’d better downplay it. “I mean, it’s no big deal. It’s not like the big ‘meet the family’ thing.” More silence, and he slapped his palm against his forehead. Why had he said that?
“Yeah. I wasn’t thinking it was.”
“Of course you weren’t. It’s just…well, my father…he’s a little different.” He inwardly groaned. Could he possibly screw this conversation up more? Way to sell the idea to her. Maybe he could throw in a promise to toss her down the stairs and pour lemon juice on her cuts.
She laughed. “I’m sure no scarier than my family.”
He let out a nervous chuckle. “No, I’m sure not.” Wait, had he just insulted her family? “I mean, he’s harmless.” Nice save. He closed his eyes and banged his head back against the headrest. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We can go eat lunch with my father, then Leon wants to film us coloring eggs.”
She sighed. “Of course he does.”
Finally, neutral ground. They spoke for a minute about Leon’s intrusiveness and then hung up. Adam stared at the phone. He hoped tomorrow would go better than his gut was telling him it would. Why had he invited her along, anyway?
Megan’s stomach twisted in a knot any Boy Scout would be proud of. Adam would arrive soon…without Dale. She’d kind of gotten used to the whole ‘pretend for the camera’ thing. Was this considered a real date, then?
She was going to meet his father. No pressure, right? She paced the room, butterflies assaulting her middle. She didn’t like Adam. Couldn’t like him. Couldn’t trust him.
But when she looked into his clear blue eyes, that fact was hard for her to remember. In fact, it was hard for her to even breathe when he was around.
Her cell phone chimed, and she pulled it out. Wendy. She sighed and answered.
“When is Adam coming over to dye Easter eggs?”
Megan glanced at the clock. “In a few hours.” No way was she telling her sister about meeting his father. She’d take it the wrong way.
“What’s going on? Why do you sound so strange?”
Dang, her sister could always tell when she was lying. “I have to go. Something is about to burn in the oven.” She cringed. Lame.
“Really? You’re lying. What’s really going on?”
“Nothing. I swear.”
The door buzzed, and Megan jumped. “That was the timer. I really have to go. Talk to you later!” She hung up and pressed the button to let Adam in. That was close. If her sister had heard his voice, there’d have been no getting off the phone until she’d spilled everything.
When she opened her door, she about swallowed her tongue, he looked so good in a pair of jeans and a short sleeve button down shirt. And he smelled woodsy and clean. How was she going to keep her head on straight?
He fidgeted. “Before we go, I should tell you something. My father has some issues.”
“Don’t we all?” She waved his worry away. “We can talk about it in the car.”
As soon as they were on the road, she asked, “How far are we headed?”
“Just outside of Council Bluffs.”
“That’s close. Do you visit often?”
He tapped the steering wheel. “As often as I can.”
“And you didn’t want Dale coming because…?”
The car sped up as he merged onto the interstate. “My father’s in a mental institution.” The words came out quietly.
Shock rang through her. That wasn’t what she was expecting. She blinked, unable to think of anything to say.
He sighed. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll take you home. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, it’s just that—”
“Adam. It’s okay.” She laid her hand on his arm, which was a bad decision. Touching his muscular forearm sent tingles through her, but she didn’t want to withdraw it. “I can handle it.”
A contemplative look came over him, and he studied her, silently.
Megan gave him an encouraging smile. “Tell me about your father.”
“He’s had a hard life.”
Not wanting to interrupt, she waited for him to continue.
“My mother left when I was just a baby. He had to raise me by himself. And he had no family. No support system. We didn’t have much. In fact, when things got tough, we didn’t have anything.”
The hum of the engine filled the silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. “We lived in a homeless shelter for a while.”
Adam? Homeless? She couldn’t picture it. The man she knew didn’t fit that image. “What happened?”
“It became obvious to the State that my father had mental illness. They took him away and put me in foster care.”
“I’m so sorry.”
An array of emotions flashed across his face. “It was difficult. I was never the popular kid in school. In fact, I worked hard and graduated early so I could get away from it. And as soon as I got a job and could afford it, I went out on my own.”
What he was telling her couldn’t be true. She’d always pictured him as the privileged child. Popular football-playing kid. The kind with a girl on each arm and scholarships to expensive schools. “What about college?”
He laughed without mirth. “I never went to college. There was never any money for it. I’ve had to work my way up the ladder to get where I am.”
Megan stared down at her hands, ashamed at herself for jumping to conclusions about him.
“My father’s a nice man. A little delusional, but harmless. Don’t be afraid o
f him.”
She nodded. “I’m looking forward to meeting him. What’s his name?”
“Alexander, but everyone calls him Al.”
Adam put his arm around Megan. This was it. Time to introduce her. His gut did a somersault. “Dad, I’d like you to meet my co-host on the morning show. Megan, this is Al.”
His father grinned, gaps showing from his missing teeth. His hair had thinned quite a bit over the years and was now snowy white with a round bald spot on top, matching his round middle. He padded over to them in his slippers. “My dear.” He took her hand, looking up, as he was a little shorter than she. “You are lovelier than sunlight.”
Megan blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Warner.”
“What’s with this Mr. Warner stuff?” He turned and started back to his seat at the round cafeteria table. “You can call me God.”
Megan’s eyes grew wide, and she shot Adam a worried glance.
“Dad—”
“Just kidding.” His smile grew. “It’s my favorite joke. Gets ‘em every time.” He motioned to the chairs surrounding the table. “Have a seat.”
Bright colored cutouts of eggs and bunnies decorated the common area. A few baskets with plastic grass and pastel bows sat on tabletops and counters. His father seemed fairly lucid today, and Adam exhaled. Maybe things would go all right. “How’ve you been, Dad?”
“Just fine.” He rubbed the top of his head. “They treat me good here.” His eyes shifted around the room. “Except for Harry.”
“Yeah, I know you don’t like Harry. But you’re trying to get along, right?”
Al nodded, then patted Megan’s hand. “And how are you, sweetie?”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m doing fine.”
They chatted politely for a few minutes. Other patients and family members shuffled into the room, finding seats and getting ready for lunch. The tile floor and antiseptic smell always reminded him of a hospital.
His father cocked his head to the side and studied Megan. Then he turned to Adam. “When’s the wedding?”
Megan blushed and stammered. “I…uh, we…aren’t getting married.”
White hair bobbed as his father nodded vigorously. “Yes you are.” He stared at Megan. “You’re his soul mate.”
Heat crept up his neck. “Dad, stop. You’re embarrassing her.”
“Sorry.” A demure look crossed his face. “Looks like they’re serving the ham now.”
They ate without further incident, his father going on about how good the potatoes were, and Megan asking questions about the facility. Adam watched the two of them interact, the way Megan smiled and treated his father like a real person. She didn’t talk down to him, like a child, or shout at him like he was deaf.
When it was time to leave, his father pulled Megan aside and whispered something in her ear. She blushed and gave him a hug. On the way to the car, he asked her what that was about.
“Your father seems to be stuck on the idea that we’re getting married. He wanted to be sure he was invited.”
Adam shook his head. “Sorry about that.”
“No, don’t be.” She tucked another curl of blonde hair behind her ear. “Your father just wants what’s best for you. I’m flattered he thinks I could make you happy.”
He stopped and took her hand. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
The look on her face told him she wasn’t expecting that at all. In fact, she didn’t look too happy he said it.
He back-tracked, and let go of her hand. “I mean, you were really good with him. You treated him like a human being. He doesn’t get that a lot.”
The concern left her face. “He’s special. I’m glad you introduced me.”
He sighed inwardly, glad he’d gotten past that blunder. “I wish I could afford to move him closer to me. There are better facilities in Omaha. Not so sterile. They make the living quarters look much more homey. They’re just too expensive.”
Megan threw him a sympathetic look. “How much do they cost?”
“Some of them are $4,000 a month.”
She sucked in a breath. “Wow.”
He hadn’t meant to bring the conversation down. In order to lighten the mood, he smiled. “You ready to go color eggs?”
Chapter 12
Megan awoke on Monday with her head pounding like she’d fallen asleep on a jack hammer. Her throat screamed in agony with every breath. Moaning, she crawled out of bed and grabbed her robe. This was not a good start to her day.
Maybe if she got going, she’d feel better. She didn’t want to call in sick. Leon would pitch a fit. And who knew what would go on over there without her. She could only imagine.
She showered. The hot water did nothing for her chills. By the time she’d toweled off, she knew she couldn’t go into work. Hot and cold flashes assaulted her as she picked up the phone.
Leon didn’t sound too thrilled, but she didn’t care anymore. She hung up and crawled back into bed, grateful for the warmth of the blankets. With the covers up to her chin, she slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
She awoke several times, her blistering headache making the room spin. Once, she slipped from bed to get a glass of water, only to find herself waking up on the kitchen floor, her cheek pressed to the cool tile. She must have managed to get herself back into bed, because the next time she awoke she was kicking off the comforter, and her pillow was a sweaty mess beneath her head.
Strange dreams filled her mind, one where her cell phone kept ringing, even after she answered it. No matter how many times she touched the screen, it wouldn’t shut up. Finally, in desperation, she threw it on the floor and stomped on it. The tiny broken pieces still vibrated and continued to chime incessantly.
The next time she woke, the clock display read three fifteen in the afternoon, and her chest was on fire. She coughed, a deep hacking sound, which continued until she passed out again.
She had another annoying dream, only this time her door buzzer wouldn’t stop. She tried to press the button on the wall, but kept missing. Finally she was successful, and the buzzing ended, replaced by loud knocking. The doorknob wouldn’t turn for her. She yelled for whoever it was to go away, but the knocking continued.
Then her dream changed and Adam held her in his strong arms. He smelled clean and musky, and she buried her head in his chest.
“You’re burning up.” He stared down at her, concern showing in his beautiful eyes.
She reached up and touched his face. Stubble scratched at her palm, and his cool skin sent sparks through her fingertips. “You’re sexy,” she mumbled.
“We need to get you to a doctor.”
She shook her head, which was a bad idea. The pressure cooker behind her eyes threatened to blow. “No doctor.”
Then her dream changed again, and she found herself lying on her bed, a cool cloth on her forehead. Adam held a glass of water to her lips. “Here, take a sip.”
The cold water washed over her blistering throat, and she moaned.
He kissed her forehead, then jerked back. “Megan, you’re really sick. You need to see a doctor.” He frowned.
She grew annoyed. “Stop talking about doctors. You’re my dream, and you’ll do what I want.”
He raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And what’s that?”
She pulled the covers up and tucked them under her arms. “Be nice. The real Adam’s a jerk.”
He must not have liked that answer, because his frown came back.
Her vision blurred, and she blinked to try to see him more clearly. “But he’s a good kisser.”
She yawned, amazed that she could feel sleepy in a dream. She closed her eyes, and the world went dark. A few more times she dreamed of Adam. Once they were at a beautiful ball dressed in formal clothing. He held her close, her head against his chest. It was nice. She told him how good he smelled, and he chuckled. They talked for a while, but that part of the dream was fuzzy.
Then she fell into a
long, dreamless unconsciousness. When the fog lifted, she opened her eyes and peered at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Light filtered through her curtains, so she knew it must be the next day. She’d missed work again. Oh, well. Leon would simply have to deal with it. Adam was fine hosting the show by himself anyway.
She had started to slip out of bed when she noticed a pair of cowboy boots on her floor. Fear crept up her spine. She didn’t own cowboy boots. She turned and held in a scream. Adam lay asleep, sprawled out on a kitchen chair beside her bed, his head at an unnatural angle. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans.
She grabbed her blanket, covering up her filmy gown. “Adam!”
He awoke with a start, glancing wildly around the room until his gaze settled on her. “Oh. You’re awake.”
“What are you doing here?” she screeched.
He held up his hands. “Whoa, hey, you let me in.”
“I did no such thing! Get out!” Yelling probably wasn’t the best idea, because it made her cough, which sounded horrible even to her ears.
“Settle down.” He stood and backed toward the door. “You’re sick.”
She stared at him, realization dawning. “That was you knocking on the door.”
“Yes. You wouldn’t answer your phone. I got worried.”
“So you broke into my apartment?”
Shaking his head, he protested. “No. Like I said, you let me in. I mean, not right away. It did take you a while to get to the door, but you finally opened it. And I’m glad you did. You were not well.”
She stared up at him, trying to figure him out. Was her dream real? Was he nursing her? She glanced at the nightstand. A fresh glass of ice water sat on a coaster. A wet cloth lay beside it.
Heat crept up her neck. “How long have you been here?”
He looked at his watch. “A few hours. I came back after the show this morning.”
“Came back? You were here before?”
A blush touched his cheeks. “I’ve been here since yesterday.”
A Fake Marriage Romance Collection Page 25
