One Fiancee To Go, Please

“Well, it looks like I’ll be able to make it for an early lunch with my fiancée after all,” he said. Too disgusted with himself to make eye contact with Ira, Jack continued to stare at the gold watch strapped to his wrist.

He heard the leather of Ira’s chair creak as the older man leaned forward. “Fiancée, you say?”

Jack nodded, his tongue unwilling to give voice to such a blatant untruth a second time.

“Ah, yes, better not keep the young woman waiting.” Ira smiled brightly and Jack’s stomach clenched. He considered retracting his words, but he told himself that one little fib wouldn’t really matter.

Halfway to the door Ira laid a companionable hand on Jack’s shoulder and confided, “I think you’ll do nicely as the new vice president of Faust Enterprises. I’m offering you the position, with the option to invest in the company and then take over completely when I retire.”

“That’s terrific! I accept,” he said, nearly sending up a whoop of joy that would have been entirely inappropriate for the vice president of a distributorship. More solemnly he added, “You won’t regret this, sir.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” Ira agreed. The two men shook hands, and Ira escorted Jack to the brass-doored elevator.

While they waited for the elevator to arrive, Ira said, “If you have no other plans for the evening, how about dinner? We can toast your new job, and I can answer any other questions you may have about either the company or the community. I’m sure Davis will help you with house-hunting, but I do know an excellent real estate agent if you’re interested.”

“That sounds great. I’d appreciate it.”

The elevator arrived and Jack stepped inside, aware that he probably was wearing a silly grin on his face, but unable to check it. Vice president. He was the new vice president of Faust Enterprises, a company he would someday own as well as oversee. If possible, his grin widened.

“Then it’s settled. My wife and I will meet you at your hotel at seven-thirty. The restaurant off the lobby serves an excellent rack of lamb,” Ira replied, his own smile paternal and understanding.

The elevator’s shiny doors were just beginning to slide shut when Ira added, “I’m looking forward to meeting your girl.”

“He wants to meet my girl!” Jack thundered into the telephone.

“I can’t believe you told him she was here,” Davis replied, sounding incredulous. “Boston, Jack, she was supposed to be in Boston!”

“Yeah, well, forgive me for being a lousy liar. It just slipped out that way.”

“Okay, okay, there’s got to be a way to fix this,” Davis muttered on the other end of the line.

Jack sighed miserably. “I have the position I’ve been dreaming about since graduate school, but the guy’s probably going to rescind the offer as soon as he realizes I lied through my teeth to get it.” He sank down on the edge of the bed and, with his free hand, kneaded the bunched muscles at the back of his neck.

“You could say she’s not feeling well,” Davis offered, then grunted skeptically. “Of course, I wouldn’t put it past Faust to show up at your hotel tomorrow with a doctor in tow. If he could just meet the future Mrs. Maris once, I’m sure that would be the end of it. Too bad you don’t know any women willing to play the part of your happy bride-to-be. Unfortunately, most of the single women I know work at Faust, know someone at Faust, or wear support hose. But maybe Marianne has a friend. I’ll call her at work.”

Jack stopped rubbing his neck and grinned as the idea hit him with the same force the crock of chili had the day before.

“Never mind that. I do know a woman,” he said slowly. “And as it happens, she owes me a huge favor.”

Chapter Two

Tess was on her afternoon break when she saw him walk into the restaurant. He was taller than she remembered, at least six-two, with broad shoulders and lean hips. She watched the other female diners swivel in their seats to give him the once-over as he passed their tables, and she smiled. With the body of an athlete and a face that belonged on the cover of Gentleman’s Quarterly, he was a hard man to ignore.

Tess took a moment to hope he would sit in another waitress’s section so that she would not have to face him again. She was surprised he had come back after yesterday’s disaster. Her surprise turned to alarm when he continued to walk to the rear of the restaurant and to the table where she sat alone, eating chicken salad and reading a chapter on metropolitan government.

Oh God, she thought, nearly choking on her meal, he’s decided to make me pay after all.

She was coughing when he reached her table. Her eyes watered a little as the chicken salad finally went down with the help of a gulp of iced tea. Still wary, she studied his expression, but he didn’t look angry or aggrieved. Nor was he holding a bill for a new suit. Instead, he smiled a little uncertainly and politely asked, “May I sit down?”

Heart hammering, Tess could do no more than bob her head in response.

“I’m assuming you remember me from yesterday,” he said, sliding onto the seat opposite hers.

Oh yes, Tess thought, I remember you. He had the kind of face a woman would recall even if she had not also managed to humiliate herself so completely in his company.

“You do remember me?” he repeated. To her embarrassed dismay, Tess realized she had been staring at him like some infatuated adolescent.

“Um, yes, I remember you. I—I spilled chili in your lap. How is it by the way?”

His eyebrows shot up, and she clarified, “The suit, I mean, n-not your lap. Did the stain come out?”

Jack watched her blush again, as she had the day before, and he found it charming. Not many women blushed anymore, especially women who looked like this one. She wore her hair in a bun today, and once more he found himself wondering what it would look like when she let it down. To his guilty surprise, he began to fantasize again, picturing himself taking out the pins one at a time and watching thick curls the color of hot embers spill over her shoulders.

“Well, did it?” she asked, interrupting his fantasy.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could answer her question. “I haven’t got the suit back from the cleaners yet, so I don’t know if the stain came out.”

“Oh.”

He watched as some of the tension eased out of her shoulders, but the wariness remained in her gaze.

“I’m interrupting your lunch.” He pointed to the half-eaten chicken salad on her plate.

“That’s okay,” she assured him. “I still have another fifteen minutes before I have to go back to work. Can I buy you a sandwich or something, to make up for yesterday?”

Jack smiled engagingly. He couldn’t have asked for a better segue.

“As a matter of fact, there is something you can do for me. A favor, a really big favor,” he stressed, leaning forward in his chair.

From across the table he watched the woman swallow nervously. “Wh-what sort of favor?”

“Nothing illegal, I promise. It’s just that I’ve got myself into a jam. It’s kind of humorous actually,” he admitted with a rueful little chuckle. “I…um…led someone to believe I’m engaged. The only problem is, well, that’s not quite true. But now he’s asked my fiancée and me to dinner tonight.”

“The fiancée you don’t have,” she said, brows furrowed as she tried to follow his story.

“Yeah, that’s right. So, I find myself in the odd predicament of needing a woman.” As he said it, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Generous lips that were naturally rose-colored curved into an embarrassed smile, and he rethought his choice of words. “What I mean to say is, I need a woman to act as my fiancée.”

“And this involves me how, exactly?” she asked, but gauging from her expression, Jack could tell she had guessed and was struggling with whether she should be appalled or flattered.

“Will you do me the honor of being my fiancée for the evening?” he asked in solemn good humor.

Tilting her head to one side, she regarded him for a long moment. “You said this was nothing illegal.”

He nodded.

“And it’s just for the evening, right?”

“Just for the evening.”

“Well, I’m working late, so I won’t get off until seven,” she told him, and Jack let out a relieved sigh. She hadn’t exactly consented, but then she hadn’t told him to get lost either. He decided to go on the assumption that since she was telling him what time she got off work, she was agreeing to his wacky plan.

“Hmm, seven.” He rubbed a hand over his chin and did some quick calculations in his head. “That will be tight, but it could work. Dinner’s at seven-thirty in the restaurant at the Saint Sebastian Hotel.”

Jack heard the woman whistle through her teeth, but he was too excited to wonder at her reaction.

“I have a rental car,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “I could come pick you up here and you could freshen up in my hotel suite if you’d like.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when she began shaking her head. “Look, I’d really like to help you out, but I don’t have a thing to wear to a fancy place like that. The Saint Sebastian is easily the nicest place in town.”

“But if you had a dress to wear, you’d go, right?”

“I suppose,” she shrugged. “But I really can’t afford to buy a new one right now, even if I had the time to go shopping. I’m sorry,” she sighed with genuine regret, and said again, “I really would like to help you out.”

Jack remained silent for a moment, then gave in to impulse. “Leave the dress to me.”

“Oh no.” She held up a hand and shook her head in protest. “I can’t allow you to buy me a dress.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, after what happened yesterday I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing you the favor, remember?”

“So? You’d still be doing me a favor. If it helps, think of the dress as a prop that I’ll supply and that you get to keep afterward,” he suggested with a smile.

“But I hardly even know you,” she sputtered. Then, “I don’t even know your name!”

“That’s easy enough to remedy. It’s Jack. Jack Q. Maris. The Q is for Quinten.” He squinted at her in mock challenge. “I don’t tell many people that because I hate the name, but I tend to make exceptions for close friends and pseudo-fiancées.”

When she just sat there and stared at him as if he had grown two heads, he prompted, “And you are?”

“Oh! I’m Tess. Officially, Tessa Claire Donovan, but nobody calls me Tessa,” she added, narrowing her eyes in much the same way he had.

Jack held out his hand and waited until she extended one of her own. He clasped the slender hand tightly and, for the third time since he had first seen her, he watched Tess blush.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Still holding her hand, he added, “By the power vested in me by the state of desperation, I now pronounce you, Tessa Claire Donovan, my make-believe fiancée.”

Tess stood outside Earl’s Place, shoulders hunched against the crisp November evening. She had managed to clock out fifteen minutes early and to change into the jeans and cotton blouse she’d worn to work that morning, and she was hoping Jack would be as good as his word and arrive on time. She still couldn’t believe she had agreed to go to dinner with him, much less pose as his fiancée for the evening. What did she know about the man, after all, except that he had the most gorgeous green eyes, a sexy smile, and a body that seemed chiseled from rock? For all she knew he could be some deranged madman loose from a psychiatric ward, or a serial rapist stalking his next victim.

But then she remembered the way he’d said her name, wrapping his tongue around that one simple syllable as if he were savoring it. And she recalled the way a mere handshake had stolen her breath. To herself, she admitted that even if yesterday’s mishap had not compelled her to agree to help him, she would be waiting outside Earl’s Place anyway. The man intrigued her. And her unprecedented reaction to him intrigued the practical, unflappable Tess even more.

“You need a ride, Tess?” one of the regulars asked on his way out of the restaurant.

“Thanks, but no, my date should be here any minute,” she replied. She smiled after she said it. My fiancé, she corrected silently, then allowed herself the indulgence of a fantasy. She pictured a shiny white limousine pulling to the curb, a black-capped chauffeur stepping out to open the door for her. Inside, Jack sat on supple leather seats holding out a flute of champagne, his smile warm with promise. Tess gave herself a mental shake as Jack’s tan rental sedan pulled to the curb. What was wrong with her? This was no date. It was playacting, two people pretending to be intimately acquainted and doing it for a small, exclusive audience. She pushed aside the sharp twinge of disappointment she felt and concentrated on the evening ahead.

A thought occurred to her as they headed down Fifth Street to the Saint Sebastian. “Jack, if we’re supposed to be engaged, shouldn’t I know more about you than just your name?”

“Good point. Let’s see, I graduated from Northwestern University with a degree in accounting. That’s also where I got my master’s in business administration.” He gave her his full attention while they waited for a traffic light to change. “I was born in Chicago. My father moved back to the Windy City a couple of years ago. My mom’s in Aspen, and I have one older sister, Kirsten, who’s rather nomadic, but she’s living in California these days. I’ve been living in Boston and working for a company there.”

The light turned green and the car pulled forward.

“Should I be from Boston, too?” she asked.

He thought a minute, then shook his head. “No, I think you should be from Chicago. You have a Midwest accent.”

She shrugged, taking his word for it, although she had never considered herself to have an accent of any sort.

“Okay, so how did we meet if you live in Boston?”

“Hmm. How old are you?” he asked, glancing sideways.

“Twenty-four.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, that pretty much rules out college. How about, we met when I went home to visit family a few years ago, and we’ve maintained a long-distance relationship ever since, waiting for you to finish college and me to find my dream job before we settled down.”

It sounded rather romantic to Tess, and much more exciting than her own boring life, but she replied in a bland voice, “I guess that’s plausible.” She couldn’t resist asking, “Just how old are you?”

“I’m not robbing-the-cradle old,” he insisted with a throaty chuckle that had her smiling in return. She liked the sound of his laughter, and the easy camaraderie that had sprung up between them.

“Just how old is ‘not robbing-the-cradle old’?” she asked.

“I’m only thirty-two.”

“Thirty-two, huh?” She gave him a quick once-over and said, “Looking at you, I’d have to say you’ve aged remarkably well.” The teasing tone of her voice sounded flirtatious even to her own ears. It wasn’t like her to flirt. In fact, she hadn’t realized she knew how. The man certainly had an odd effect on her. When he glanced curiously in her direction, Tess busied herself rummaging through her purse for some breath mints.

They arrived at the hotel five minutes later and bustled inside. While they waited for the elevator, Jack spared a glance in the direction of the restaurant.

“Well, it doesn’t appear our dinner companions have arrived yet,” he said, sounding relieved. As they stepped into the elevator, they continued to discuss their bogus courtship.

A minute later, the elevator reached the seventh floor. When the double doors slid open, the easy banter they had been sharing evaporated along with the saliva in Tess’s mouth. As she waited for him to unlock the door to his room, she looked anxiously up and down the corridor, half expecting someone she knew to pop out and ask her what she was doing going into a strange man’s hotel room. The hall remained empty, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was doing something illicit, especially when Jack finally managed to open the door to his room and stood at the threshold waiting for her. She brushed past him, feeling awkward and foolish, but then she spied the dress he had laid ever so carefully across the bed’s floral comforter and her mouth fell open.

“You said size six, right?” He stood just behind her, and she could swear she felt his warm breath feather across the nape of her neck when he spoke.

“Six, yes,” she repeated, transfixed. Basic and black, it was easily the most elegant dress Tess had ever seen. It reminded her a bit of the sleek number Audrey Hepburn had worn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She heard a wistful sigh, and realized it was her own. She adored Audrey Hepburn, but she especially loved her in that movie. It was as if he had known, she thought, then chided herself for being silly. They were strangers, after all. He barely knew her name, let alone what old movies she preferred.

But the man had taste; she would say that for him. She had spent the afternoon agonizing over what kind of a dress he would pick out for her to wear. Would it be sleazy or too prim? Would it be in some horrendous shade that would clash with her flaming hair? But Jack had chosen well.

She decided he must have driven over to the mall in Piedmont during the afternoon. Pleasant River certainly didn’t have any place that carried such stylish evening dresses. She spied the label stitched just inside the neckline and, limited though her exposure to designer fashions was, she knew it must have cost him a mint.

“The lady at the store helped me pick it out,” he said. “Um, she also helped pick out the, uh, other things.” He coughed a little self-consciously, and for the first time Tess noticed the lacy black slip and sheer hose lying next to the dress on the bed.

“Oh,” was all she could manage, grateful he stood behind her and could not watch her face redden.

“The shoes were a little trickier. I hope they’re comfortable.” His tone was dubious.

Tess noticed the pair of strappy black leather heels lined up at the foot of the bed next to a pair of size-eleven men’s dress shoes. For some reason the sight of their footwear sharing space next to a bed seemed more intimate than the fact the man had helped pick out her unmentionables.

“Well, everything seems to be in order,” he said, rubbing his hands together. He walked to the closet and pulled out a new suit. It was double-breasted and the color of charcoal, with the barest hint of a pinstripe. She noticed the tags still dangling from the cuff. At her questioning gaze, he offered a careless shrug.

“The chili didn’t come out. I guess you could say my American Express card got quite the workout today, especially since I had to have them do a rush job on the alterations.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to forestall the apology that she was about to offer. “Don’t say you’re sorry, Tess. After tonight, we’re more than even.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I won’t apologize. But can I say thank you?”

He grinned, that sexy little dimple tugging in his cheek. “You’re welcome. Now we’d better get ready. I can change in the bathroom, unless you’d like to freshen up first?”

“Yes, please. I think I smell like chili dogs.” She crinkled her nose. “I’ll just take the dress and the other things in there with me,” she told him, quickly gathering them up. “I won’t be long.”

Jack glanced at his watch. “I hate to rush you, but it’s almost twenty after,” he said.

Jack Maris had never known a woman who could be ready in five minutes. Nancy and her endless fussing over her appearance had caused them to be chronically late.

He changed into his suit and paced the length of the room once. Then he went to the closed bathroom door and raised his hand to knock, planning to tell Tess he would meet her downstairs. He didn’t want to keep his new partner waiting. The door opened before he could knock, however, and Jack’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

“Ready,” she announced. She gave her head a little shake that sent copper-colored curls dancing.

He sucked in a sharp breath. None of the fantasies he’d had about her hair matched the reality. It corkscrewed nearly to her waist in rivulets of molten lava.

“I took down my hair,” she said needlessly when he kept staring at it. “I can put it back up. I just thought—”

“No, no,” he interrupted her, his voice a little gruff. “Leave it down. It’s…” Then Jack noticed the dress. The woman whose firm curves filled it out so nicely needed no flounces, ruffles or sequins to compensate for—or camouflage—any shortcomings. Perfection, he thought, as his heart picked up speed. She was sheer perfection.

“Tess. I…” His voice trailed away along with his train of thought, and whatever he had been about to say was swallowed up by the awkwardness of the moment.

He watched as color suffused her face. She seemed to look everywhere in the room but at him, and Jack wondered what had possessed him to stand there gawking at her as if he were some pimply-faced schoolboy on a first date. This wasn’t a date at all, he reminded himself, although it was difficult to ignore the sexual attraction that had his blood heating.

Finally, his tone crisp and businesslike to compensate for the erotic thoughts he’d been entertaining, he said, “Come on, let’s go get this over with.”

Tess followed Jack through the beveled-glass doors of the Saint Sebastian’s dining room and looked around. With the exception of an older couple seated near the rear of the restaurant, most of the faces were unfamiliar. Most likely out-of-town guests, she decided, wondering who she and Jack were there to meet. She smiled at the diners seated at each table they approached, eager to look the part of a happy bride-to-be, but Jack just kept walking. He walked past the young couple enjoying linguini in the booth near the wall. Past the dark-suited businessman scribbling notes on a yellow pad of paper. Past the trio of middle-aged women sipping coffee and eating cheese-cake. That’s when she knew, and her stomach felt as if it had dropped to her feet. She snagged Jack by the arm and tugged him to a halt.

“Wh-what is it?” he asked.

“The Fausts,” she replied in a hushed tone. “You didn’t tell me we were eating dinner with Ira and Cora Faust.”

His eyes widened as his face bleached of color. “Please tell me you don’t know them.”

“Everyone in Pleasant River knows them,” she whispered frantically. “They’re the city’s first family, so to speak. They sponsor just about everything that goes on around here, from the Christmas pageant to the annual blueberry festival. I was Miss Blueberry twice in high school. Ira Faust crowned me, for heaven’s sake!”

At any other time, Jack thought, he might have been amused by the quaint image her words brought to mind, but with the beginning of a nasty headache pounding behind his eyes, he could only groan. Briefly, he considered turning around and slinking out. Later he could make up some excuse. But Ira took away that option by calling out, “Look, dear, here they are.”

Jack sent Tess a pleading look, then plastered a smile on his face as they joined the Fausts at their table.

“Good evening, sir. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” He turned to the plump, silver-haired matron who was seated next to Ira and said, “This must be your lovely wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Any hope he harbored that the older couple would not recognize his date was dashed immediately.

“Why, this is a surprise,” Cora Faust said, her tone incredulous and a little excited. “Don’t tell me that Pleasant River’s very own Tess Donovan is your fiancée?”

“Young man, why didn’t you mention that your girl was a local?” Ira admonished good-naturedly. “This is extraordinary.”

“Hello, Mr. Faust,” Tess said. Jack noticed her discreetly wiping her palm on her dress before shaking the older man’s hand. Turning to Ira’s wife, she said, “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Faust.”

They were seated, and the waiter came for their drink order, forestalling what Jack knew was only the inevitable. Tess ordered a club soda, apparently determined to keep a clear head. Jack, however, ordered Scotch. False courage, he decided, was better than nothing. The black-vested server had barely moved out of hearing range when Cora lobbed the first verbal volley of what promised to be a long evening of probing questions.