Rent A Millionaire Groom

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t see them all that often. For several months after the wedding I can tell them you’ve gotten a role in Hollywood. Then I’ll tell them we can’t marry because you’re always gone. It’s simple.”

James didn’t quite believe her last statement. But the prospect of pretending to be Elise’s fiancé had some appeal for him. A great deal of appeal, actually. He was fascinated by her emotion, her soft lips, her green eyes.

Recognizing a danger signal when he saw it, he let go of her hands and sat back. “When is the wedding?”

“In three weeks. That would be enough time to—to learn about each other, wouldn’t it? I mean, I can write out everything you’d have to know.”

Her scholarly approach tickled him. She thought she could write a report and they could convince everyone they were lovers? He grinned. “Well, now, I’m a method actor, sweetheart. I’d have to spend time with you to do a good job.”

The reluctance on her face assured him he’d been wrong about Elise Foster. She wasn’t trying to marry him. She didn’t even want to date him. Which only made her more attractive.

“Spend time? How much time? I mean, I have my classes and office hours and grading papers. I can’t—”

“Evenings, Elise. I have work to do, too. But we could spend a few evenings together, have dinner, talk…you know, like a real couple.”

She looked lost. He understood. He hadn’t dated anyone on a regular basis in years. He hadn’t been comfortable enough with a woman to let her get that close. Was he making another mistake?

“I suppose we could…spend a few evenings together.”

“Okay, you’ve got a deal.” He extended his hand across the table.

After hesitating, she put her hand in his. “But we haven’t discussed your fee.”

“That’s not necessary.” In fact, he was wondering if he should offer to pay her. There was an excitement singing through his veins, an enthusiasm for the days ahead that he hadn’t felt in some time.

“Of course, it’s necessary. I’m hiring you. How much would you be paid for your time if you were doing a play?”

He had no idea what Bobby would receive, so he guessed. “Union wages are a hundred and twenty a day.”

She swallowed. “Okay. How—how many times will we need to go out?”

“Oh, you don’t pay me for those evenings. That’s research. I’m responsible for research. You only pay for the time at the wedding.” He grinned, proud of his solution.

“No, that’s not right. The wedding will be three days, but I’ll pay half that rate for the evenings.” She gave an abrupt nod, firmness in her lips.

He thought she looked adorable.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss that thought.

“No? You won’t agree to half? Okay, I can pay full—”

“That’s not what I meant! That’s fine. What you said was fine. We’ll settle up after the wedding.” When it was over, he’d tell her who he really was. Payment wouldn’t be necessary.

“But won’t you need some money in advance?” She bit down on her bottom lip, and James longed to pull her to him, to touch her there.

“Uh, no, I’ll be fine.”

Her earnest, professorial look firmly in place, she said, “Look, James, don’t let your pride get in the way. I know teaching assistants don’t make much money. I’ll write a check for five hundred dollars and you keep a list of expenses.”

What could he say? He wanted that check. It was proof that she wasn’t after his money, wasn’t it? Not that he’d cash it. Instead, he’d probably frame it, to remember a certain green-eyed siren who had captured him…temporarily.

ELISE WAS UNSETTLED by her arrangement.

Or maybe she was unsettled by James’s insistence that their first research evening be tonight.

Not that she’d had plans. No, she had intended to go over her lesson plans for the next day. And there was a test she needed to grade. Normal activities.

Or maybe she was unsettled by the excitement filling her. This wasn’t a date! And even if it were, a date shouldn’t cause such interest. After all, a male friend was no different from a female one.

That blatant lie couldn’t sail past her truth alarm without ringing wildly. Okay, so sitting across from James Dillon, date or not, was a lot different from sitting with Phoebe and Daisy.

She didn’t shampoo her hair for Phoebe and Daisy.

Or shave her legs.

The phone rang.

“Hi,” Phoebe sang out, her voice cheery. “I met a man today.”

Elise gasped. She had? It must be catching.

“I’m going to introduce him to Daisy,” Phoebe continued.

Oh. Big difference. Elise wasn’t going to introduce the man she’d met to Daisy. Because he wasn’t right for her.

“That’s great. Have you told Daisy?”

“Nope. I thought we’d all grab a bite to eat at The Prickly Pear and discuss it. You can help me convince her.”

“Tonight?” Elise almost squeaked, then cleared her throat to sound normal. “Uh, I can’t tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I’m, uh, doing research.”

“For Daisy?”

“No! For me. I’m using the book to solve one of my problems.”

“When are you going out?”

“At seven.”

“Great, Daisy and I will be right over. We want to hear all about this research.”

Before Elise could protest, Phoebe hung up. But it didn’t matter. She’d have to tell her friends the truth, anyway, sooner or later. Better to get it out of the way.

She grabbed a quick shower, shampooed her hair. When she stepped out, the doorbell was ringing. “Coming!” she shouted as she dashed to her bedroom to find her silky robe. Then she let in her two friends.

“What’s going on?” Daisy asked at once. “It sounds mysterious.”

“No, it’s not. Come in. I’ll get us a cola.” Elise figured she had half an hour before she needed to get ready. “I’ve figured out a way to stop my family from harassing me about my single state.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Phoebe said. “Haven’t they been making daily calls?”

“Yes. But I’ve found a fiancé.”

Daisy almost dropped the drink Elise had just handed her. “What? You’re engaged?”

“No, but the book said look around your neighborhood and—”

“You’re hitting on Jeff? Elise, he’s way too young for you,” Phoebe interrupted. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to marry?”

Elise closed her eyes, knowing she’d made a mess of her explanation. Jeff was the guy who cleaned the pool at Mesa Blue. He was always flirting with all of them, but he was only twenty-two—a baby.

Just how old do you think James is? that irritating inner voice asked. She didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she attempted to answer Phoebe.

“I don’t want to marry. I’m telling this all wrong, just like I did this afternoon.”

“You told someone else before you told us?” Daisy asked, hurt in her eyes.

“Well, I had to!” Elise exclaimed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to be my fiancé. My pretend fiancé!” she emphasized.

“Oh, this is good,” Phoebe said, curling up on the sofa. “Tell us all about him.”

And Elise did, providing the basic facts. Phoebe, however, thought she’d left something out.

“You haven’t described him.”

“Well, he’s your typical Hollywood hunk.” Elise hoped that would satisfy her friends. She should’ve known better.

After staring at her, Phoebe nodded her head and said, “I can’t wait to meet him. Are you going to introduce him to Daisy afterwards?”

“No! Actors aren’t—stable. I mean, their jobs aren’t stable. That wouldn’t be good for a prospective dad, you know.”

“She’s right,” Daisy agreed, which settled Elise’s nerves. “They’re always gone. And they’re notorious for having affairs with the women they work with.”

Elise didn’t like that thought. Not that it was any of her business what James did when he made movies. If he made movies.

Desperate to end the conversation before she revealed too much to herself as well as to her friends, she stood. “Look, I need to get ready. He’s going to be here at seven.”

“Want to let me do your makeup?” Phoebe asked.

Phoebe was a makeup consultant as well as a college student, a “retread” college student as she called herself, and she frequently offered to do Elise’s makeup. Elise always refused.

“This isn’t a date, Phoebe, but thank you. It’s research. That’s what James called it.”

“Okay, come on, Daisy, and I’ll tell you about the guy I found for you today over dinner at The Prickly Pear.” Phoebe stood and offered a hand to pull Daisy to her feet.

Daisy joined Phoebe. “I wish you were coming with us, Elise.”

“When I get in, I’ll call you to find out what the two of you decided about the latest husband prospect for Daisy. With that book to help us, I’m sure you’ll be married and expecting soon, Daisy.”

“I hope so,” Daisy said with a sigh.

JAMES COULDN’T BELIEVE how much he was looking forward to his evening with Elise. Dr. Elise Foster. His friends would laugh if they realized he was dating an egghead, an intellectual.

Not that he was dumb, but he’d made his money understanding popular culture. His ad agency had done some of the most successful ad campaigns in the past few years. That was a long way from Shakespeare, or maybe he should say Molière, the French answer to the famous English playwright.

And Bobby would probably come unglued. James was pretty sure Bobby had taken French with Elise. He remembered now his brother talking about a beautiful French teacher. And Elise was beautiful, in a quiet way. Bobby had only stayed in the class one semester. Studying verb conjugations wasn’t his cup of tea. He’d only wanted to pick up the proper accent.

That probably explained why Elise hadn’t remembered his brother.

He dressed carefully, sticking with jeans and a casual shirt, topped by a linen sports coat. He took the check Elise had given him and tucked it in his breast pocket. His good luck charm.

Earlier, he’d convinced his housekeeper to swap cars with him for the evening. She hadn’t wanted to drive his Mercedes, but she’d promised to visit her sister. If he turned up in the sleek black car, Elise would smell a rat for sure. So tonight, he was driving MaryBelle’s inexpensive sedan.

He reminded himself to talk MaryBelle into allowing him to get the car tuned up for her. It was an older model car, and the rough sound of the engine had him concerned for MaryBelle’s safety. His housekeeper was an energetic sixty-year-old, who could cook and clean like a demon. But she knew nothing about cars. If it broke down with her, she’d be stranded.

He parked in front of the condominiums where Elise lived. Mesa Blue. It actually had a front lawn, an unusual feature in Phoenix. Elise had said it got its name from the swimming pool, the center of the complex. Its tile bottom was a deep blue.

He approved of the well-lit area. It looked safe to him. Funny, he’d never evaluated the security of his dates’ homes before. It was probably because he’d been thinking about MaryBelle’s safety. Yeah, that was it.

He found her apartment on the second floor, apartment 2D, and knocked. His heart rate sped up as he heard footsteps approaching.

When the door opened, he caught his breath.

Gone was the staid suit, the prim hairdo. Elise was dressed in jeans, as he was, topped by a green short-sleeved sweater with a modest V-neck. Her light brown hair was down, curving around her face, and she looked like a college student herself.

He found himself leaning forward, as if to kiss her hello, and stepped back. “Ready?” he asked hastily.

“Yes. Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“If you don’t mind, no. I’m starving.”

She immediately stepped out of her apartment and locked the door behind her. “Of course. Where shall we go?”

“I’ve found a place I think you’ll like. I wanted somewhere quiet so we can talk. Some of these places have the music turned up so loud you can’t hear yourself think.”

Some of the tension he’d noted on her face eased. “I know what you mean. I thought you might prefer those kinds of places. You’re—you’re younger, I suppose.”

“Actually, I’m not as young as you might think,” he admitted, avoiding her gaze. “I came back to ASU after trying my luck on the job market. I discovered I’m more interested in creating drama than I am in acting.” At least, that’s what his brother Bobby had told him when Bobby had made the decision to return to college after a couple of years in Los Angeles.

“Really? Do you write plays?”

“I’m working on a couple. Nothing that’s been bought yet.”

“That’s wonderful, James,” she said eagerly.

He wasn’t sure why that news pleased her so, but he had no objection to making her happy. She was practically beaming at him.

“You prefer a playwright to an actor?”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “It just seems more—more interesting, actually. One of my friends is creative. She has a gallery nearby called Native Art. But her greatest happiness comes when she creates her own art.”

“Hey, I’ve been in that store. She has some nice stuff. And she’s done some of it?” He put his hand on her back to guide her down the stairs, liking the warmth of her, a soft floral scent drifting to his nostrils.

“Actually, no. She creates pottery for her friends, but she won’t put her own work in the store. She doesn’t think it’s good enough.”

“Creative people are often unsure of themselves.” He dealt with employees like Elise’s friend. Brilliant people, but their mood swings sometimes made them difficult to work with.

“Are you?”

It took him a minute to figure out what she was asking. “Uh, I suppose we all are unsure of ourselves sometimes.”

When he and Sylvia had divorced, the anger in him had fueled his first few years, leaving him no room for self-doubt. By the time the anger had dissipated, he’d risen so high in the business, he had a history to fall back on. He hadn’t thought of his past like that. Maybe he owed Sylvia, after all.

He chuckled, amused by his thoughts.

“What’s funny?” Elise asked, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry. Your question reminded me of some of my early struggles.”

“It’s good that you can laugh at them.”

“Yeah, it is.” He hadn’t laughed at them before. Elise was good for him.

“I hope you don’t mind my car. It’s not exactly elegant,” he said, directing her to MaryBelle’s car. He’d rather be driving his Mercedes.

“Of course, I don’t mind. In fact, we can drive mine if you want.”

“No, we’ll take—mine. But what kind of car do you drive? I hope it’s safe.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never had any trouble with it.”

“Good,” he agreed, and held open the door for her.

He got behind the wheel, glad he’d already adjusted the seat and the mirrors for his height. He backed out of the parking lot. “I like your condos. They look nice.”

“Yes, they are. The people who live here are wonderful. My two best friends are here, but everyone’s friendly.”

He couldn’t imagine anyone being unfriendly to Elise, especially men. “Any single men live here?”

“Well, there’s Jeff and Bill.”

He assured himself it was curiosity that had him asking, “Why didn’t you ask one of them to be your pretend fiancé?”

She smiled at him. “Because Jeff is the same age as my students and Bill is almost old enough to be my father. Neither of them would be able to convince my sisters we were serious.”

He nodded, accepting the implied compliment with a smile. “Well, I’ll do my best to be convincing.”

“I’m sure you will.”

James saw the sign for the place he’d found earlier, having decided it would be perfect for a casual meal and conversation. Someplace where he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Here we are,” he said as he parked the car.

He turned to Elise, only to find her staring at the restaurant, her face pale.

Chapter Three

Elise stared at the familiar sign: The Prickly Pear. Out of all the restaurants in Phoenix, he’d chosen her favorite hangout? Where her friends were dining?

“Is something wrong? Don’t you like this place?”

“Oh…yes, I love it. I come here often.”

“Is that it? You’re afraid you’ll be seen with me?”

She heard the annoyance in his voice. With a smile, she said, “Are you kidding? Being seen with you will do wonders for my reputation.”

Her words must’ve pleased him because he gave her that devastating smile and squeezed her hand.

“Good. I was afraid you had a boyfriend stashed away somewhere and didn’t want him to see us out together.”

He got out of the car and came around to open her door before she could pull herself together to get out. “A boyfriend?” she repeated. “If I had a boyfriend, why would I hire you?”

He was still smiling as he took her by the hand. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Um, Jeff, the guy who cleans the pool, might be bartending tonight. That’s his part-time job. And—and my friends Phoebe and Daisy were coming here for dinner. But there’s no one else. I mean, I’m not hiding anyone.”

James held the door open for her, and she walked in. The hostess who normally worked there wasn’t in sight. George, their usual waiter, saw her pausing by the door and came sailing by, a tray in his hands. He stooped and kissed her cheek.

“Hi, love. Just pick a table anywhere. You know the routine.” Then he headed off to deliver the food on his tray.

Elise swallowed and turned to look at James. He had a curiously suspicious look on his face. “That’s George. He usually waits on us.”

“Yeah, I can tell you know him. Why didn’t you ask him?”

Lowering her voice so no one could hear her, she said, “Because George is already married. He and his wife are attending school and working part time.”

James took a deep breath. “Okay. Where do you want to sit.”

Phoebe and Daisy had discovered them by that time and were waving from across the room. “Uh, my friends are here. Do you mind if we say hello?”

“Of course not. But I’d rather not join them tonight. We need to talk, to get to know each other.”

“Yes, of course.” She led the way to their table, glad they weren’t going to have dinner with Phoebe and Daisy. James would only have eyes for her friends. They were so alive, so beautiful.

“Hi, Phoebe and Daisy. This is James Dillon. James, these are my two best friends, Phoebe Lane and Daisy Redford.”

“Evening, ladies.”

Elise could tell how impressed her friends were with James. Which only reinforced her confidence in her excellent choice. Her sisters would be overwhelmed.

She smiled at her friends, pleased at their approval.

James’s arm came around her shoulders, surprising her. His warmth, the scent of his aftershave, the thrill she experienced when he touched her, distracted her. And filled her with concern. She didn’t want to become too interested in James Dillon.

“You know, Elise, why don’t we join Phoebe and Daisy for dinner. Unless you two ladies object? Your food hasn’t arrived yet?”

“No, we haven’t even ordered,” Daisy said. “George is rushed off his feet tonight.”

“Good, then how about it, Elise?” James said, pulling out the nearest empty chair.

Her heart fell. He was attracted to her friends. Maybe it was Daisy who drew him. Then they wouldn’t have to worry about finding a man for her. Or maybe it was Phoebe, with her starlet looks. James was probably used to starlets.

“Elise?”

“Oh, oh, yes, of course. That would be delightful.”

And she fell into the chair he held out for her.

JAMES THOUGHT ELISE had seemed very tense, until she smiled at her friends. So he’d decided Elise might be more forthcoming if she was relaxed.

Now he knew he’d miscalculated. She was more tense than ever. What had gone wrong?

He sat down next to her, trying to figure out how to get out of his decision.

George rushed up. “The usual, darlin’s?”

Elise frowned. “James hasn’t been here before. I don’t know—”

“What’s the usual?” he asked, not much caring what he ate. He was more interested in Elise.

“A chicken Caesar salad,” Phoebe explained. “But their burgers are really good.”

“I’ll have a burger,” he said at once.

George nodded in his direction. Then, after the three women said they’d have the usual, he moved on.

“So, you three must eat here a lot,” he commented, hoping to see Elise relax.

“Several times a week,” Daisy said. “After working all day, it doesn’t seem worth the effort to cook for one when we can come here and have a healthy salad.”

“I know what you mean. If I didn’t have—” He broke off, reminding himself a struggling teaching assistant didn’t have a housekeeper. “Uh, if I didn’t have my mom nearby, I’d exist on hamburgers.”

Phoebe chuckled. “I don’t think a man ever outgrows his need to go home to be fed.”

“Which one of you has the art gallery?” he asked.

Daisy looked at Elise, then back at James. “That’s me.”

“I’ve been to it. I was impressed with your inventory.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re interested in art?”

“Depends—but I liked what you had,” he said.

The other two grinned in response to his flattery, but Elise did not.

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know just how much Elise had told her friends. Did she want them to think he was a serious suitor? “Uh, Elise and I just met. I thought if we joined you two, you could tell me secrets about her.” He nudged Elise with his elbow, hoping to draw some response.

“They know,” she said, not looking at him.

James cocked an eyebrow at the other two women. “You do?”

They nodded. Daisy added, “Elise told us because we’re searching for a man for me, and she used the book to find you.”

James sat back in his chair and stared at the three women. What was wrong with the men these three knew? They were all beautiful. Why did they have to search for men?

“Maybe you know more than I do. What book? And why are you searching for a man?” he finished, looking at Daisy.

Phoebe fielded the first question. “2001 WAYS TO WED.”

When he stared at her blankly, she added, “That’s the book.”

James turned to Elise, whose cheeks were rosy red. “You found me in a book?”

“No, not exactly,” Elise said. “It said to look at your neighbors. I told you there weren’t any neighbors who would do, but when I thought about work, I remembered the Drama Department. It sounded like the perfect place to find someone who could—pretend.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed. Then he turned to Daisy. “I know it’s none of my business, but why are you looking for a man? I mean, why do you have to look? I would think any of you could have your choice of men.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Phoebe said with a smile, “but Daisy is the only one looking.”

“And it’s because my biological clock is ticking,” Daisy hurriedly added. “I’m ready to have a child.”

James’s eyes widened. “I think I’m glad I’m helping out Elise and not you.”

“I’m not looking for anything temporary,” Daisy said, squaring her jaw. “I was raised without a father. I won’t do that to my child.”

“Good for you,” he agreed. Then he reached over and picked up Elise’s hand. “How’s your biological clock, sweetheart?”

Elise snatched her hand away. “Just fine, thank you. Remember all those sisters? Who do you think took care of them?”

“Your brother?” he teased, knowing the answer.

“Not hardly.”

“I can’t wait to meet this brother, raised with seven sisters. He’s either overwhelmingly masculine, in self-defense, or he learned to play with dolls.”

“Definitely the first,” Elise said without hesitation.

James looked at the other two.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Phoebe said. “We’ve never met him. He doesn’t come around often.”

“He’s an attorney and has long hours,” Elise said. “I talk to him on the phone, but he doesn’t have a lot of spare time.”