Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?

Stop. What was the matter with him? He quite simply didn’t look at women like this—hadn’t done since Claudia. The sooner he got this over with the better.

‘OK. I’ll help. I know we aren’t technically strangers, but it’s close enough.’

Uncertainty touched her features and then she expelled a sigh. ‘OK. Let’s get it over with.’

Despite the echo of his own sentiment, he felt irrational chagrin touch him.

As if she sensed his reaction, she reached out and touched his arm. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong. This is just a highly embarrassing situation for me. I’m a university librarian. An introvert. Being dressed like this... Asking someone to kiss me for a selfie is... I feel like an idiot. That’s what I meant. But what I should have said is thank you—I really appreciate this.’

‘No worries—and it’s not a big deal. Where shall we pose?’

They moved to the side of the entrance.

‘Here is fine.’ Reaching into her small clutch bag, she pulled out her phone. ‘OK. I’m ready.’

Zander leant forward and aimed for her cheek, ridiculously aware of her elusive flower scent, the smoothness of her skin and the glint of the chestnut sheen of her hair. Then at the last second she moved slightly, presumably in an attempt to position the shot, and instead of her cheek, his lips brushed hers.

Of course the right thing to do—the sensible action, the gentlemanly option—would have been to draw back. But that didn’t happen. Instead he froze, caught in a sudden surge of sensation, tantalised, yearning, preternaturally aware.

Gabby drew in the slightest of breaths, and that triggered something else. Did he pull her forward? Did she step towards him? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. Because all he could think about was the imperative need to deepen the kiss.

Her lips were soft, pliant against his, and somehow—impossibly—it felt as though they were the only two beings bathed in the last rays of sunshine that hazed around them and added magic to the ambience. Strands of desire twined together into a knot of longing in his gut as Gabby gave a small moan, pressed against him, looped her hands round his waist.

Until the spell was broken as a teenager jostled them, then jumped back with an embarrassed muttered apology.

Gabby, too, moved backwards in a jerky movement, hazel eyes wide in shock, her breathing fast. ‘I... I...’

But clearly speech had deserted her, and without another word she spun round and walked away, her pace rapid. For a moment he opened his mouth to call her back—and then closed it again.

Bad idea. Bad move. Since Claudia’s death Zander had eschewed the whole dating scene for a reason. Too complex. Too confusing. Too complicated. Just like that kiss had been.

And so he stood still and watched Gabby walk away.

CHAPTER TWO

GABBY HAD NEVER been so glad to see Monday morning arrive, and as soon as she entered the university library the world felt a better place. The feeling was further enhanced by the fact that she was dressed in cropped navy trousers and a cream blouse, her hair caught up in a ponytail, without so much as a vestige of pink, let alone any bunny motifs, in sight. Even better, she was surrounded by the familiar dense quiet of her workplace—a blanket of calm after the neon pink of the weekend.

Sure, she’d enjoyed herself, but it had been overwhelming, as well. The fact she didn’t really know the other women very well but they knew each other had been an eerie reminder of her early life. As a child she had always been the outsider looking in—too shy, too awkward, too scared to try to join in. Cliques and friendship groups had formed and she’d missed the boat.

But those days were behind her, and as she walked towards her office, the library environment offered a comforting mix of technology and history, computers mingled with shelves of books—all enough to propel the weekend into the dim and dark recess of her memory.

Well, most of it anyway.

It would take a while before that kiss ceased to haunt her—days later she’d swear her lips still tingled. Ironically, the only physical evidence that the kiss had even happened—the sole picture she’d managed to take—had come out so blurry as to be useless. On her way back to the party she’d entered an upmarket fashion store, located a mannequin and he’d been her ‘hot stranger’. If only she’d thought of that earlier.

However, even if she had snapped That Kiss, and had the guts to display it, she’d have been disqualified anyway—kissing your teenage hero probably didn’t count as a ‘hot stranger’.

Back in high school she had liked Zander Grosvenor—but not because of his looks or his rebellious cool kid image or even his prowess on the sporting field. It had never occurred to her that she could have a chance with him and that had been fine with her. Admiration from afar had suited her, because perversely she’d liked him because of his evident loyalty to his girlfriend. True, Claudia had been one of the prettiest, most popular girls in school but nonetheless...he had never so much as glanced at anyone else.

And she’d admired that; the traits she still valued were loyalty and trust. So she hadn’t acknowledged that her interest in him was a crush, even though his presence had always brought on her nerves and she’d had to fight the impulse to try to ‘accidentally’ be wherever he was. The one time she had genuinely bumped into him by mistake had been so nerve-racking she’d dropped her books and actually had a conversation with him.

Enough. That was the dim and distant past and now she needed to banish Zander Grosvenor from her mind—and her lips, for that matter. At twenty-nine she was way too old to crush on anyone, let alone a man like the one Zander had become. Rich, successful...not her type at all. Time to focus on work.

Her day was divided between a reclassification project, a stint on the front desk and work on an online course she was putting together to help students access relevant information—more than enough to absorb her attention. So, apart from the occasional memory lapse to Planet Kiss, she was on her way back to ‘Gabby as normal’. Enough so that at the end of the day she was able to close down her computer and look forward to a quiet evening at home.

The actual library was still open, and as she walked through the book-lined area she exchanged pleasantries with a few of the students. She stopped at one of the tables to pick up a couple of books that had been left, turned—and her sandal-clad feet screeched to a halt. Surely it couldn’t be...? Zander Grosvenor? Her imagination must be messing with her head.

But then, there he was.

‘Hi, Gabby.’

‘Zander,’ she said, and her voice echoed as hollow as her tummy.

For an insane second Gabby considered a dive beneath the table—though what she hoped that would achieve she had no idea. She needed to remember that she was no longer a cowering three-year-old, caught up in her mother’s chaotic lifestyle, nor even a scared nine-year-old, terrified she would be taken from her grandparents. Back then, hiding had been her go-to strategy and she’d built dens wherever she could, cocooned herself away from the world.

But it really was not an option in the present situation, so she forced herself to stand tall and face him. Unfortunately, that necessitated looking at him, and her hormones did a flip before standing at attention.

Today Zander was suited and booted—the suit a faintly pinstriped charcoal grey, the shirt a pristine white. The whole ensemble epitomised wealth and success and a wow factor she really could do without. Dark blonde hair, just a little bit too long, blue-grey eyes that pierced...and suddenly the vast library seemed to shrink around her.

Eventually she located her vocal cords. ‘What a surprise. Were you looking for me?’ Please let this be some strange coincidence.

‘Yes. You mentioned you worked as a university librarian—I did a bit of research and here I am.’

It occurred to her that despite the suave suit, he was uncomfortable; something in his expression indicated that the expensive shirt felt constrictive round his throat and the square jaw held a hint of tension.

‘So, how can I help?’

‘I was wondering if...if you’d have dinner with me.’

For a moment she couldn’t hold back the instinct to smile. She felt a bubble of anticipation at the idea that their encounter had sparked this—a desire to follow up. Though something warned her that her reaction was misplaced and she dialled down the smile—an instinct justified by his next words.

‘I’ve got a business proposition I want to discuss.’

Of course. How foolish of her to think it could be anything else. She could only hope he hadn’t clocked her initial response. Especially idiotic because even if he had asked her on a date she would have refused. Zander was not her type—in so much as she had a type...which she didn’t. But in the unlikely event that she ever figured out love and relationships she’d want someone ordinary, and Zander wasn’t that. Being with Zander would be too much—too intense. He was too gorgeous, too rich, too successful...just too everything.

‘You need a librarian?’ Could he have a collection of books that needed cataloguing? It seemed unlikely.

‘Nope.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s complicated.’

The word should have her running for the sanctuary of her apartment. Gabby was a big fan of simplicity. Yet curiosity surfaced—what on earth could he have in mind? Hesitation stretched the silence and then she shrugged. After all, the point was that this wasn’t a date—this was business.

So... ‘OK. I’m intrigued. Dinner sounds good.’

‘Great. Are you finished or shall we meet somewhere later?’

‘I’m good to go.’

* * *

As they exited the university, Zander wondered if he had completely lost every vestige of common sense. Sitting at his desk earlier he had thought his idea made perfect sense, verging on genius. The problem was now he’d seen Gabby again he’d remembered the major flaw in the whole concept. In a nutshell—the Attraction Factor. One second in her presence was all it had taken for any ideas of business to desert him at supersonic speed. To be replaced by a near-overwhelming urge to cross the room and try for a repeat of that kiss.

But now, out in the fresh dusk-laden air, he sought perspective. Reminded himself that the attraction wasn’t a problem as long as he didn’t act on it.

‘I thought we’d eat at Lothario’s.’

One of Bath’s most prestigious restaurants, it would provide a persuasive backdrop to explain his proposition. Yet she didn’t look impressed; in fact she didn’t even look enthusiastic.

‘Unless you’d prefer somewhere else?’

‘Actually, I would rather go somewhere more low-key, if that’s OK with you.’

‘Sure.’ So much for the dazzling-her-into-acceptance plan.

‘There’s a really good pizza place not far from here. How about we go there?’

Ten minutes later they entered a small cosy Italian restaurant from which wafted out the tantalising aroma of tomato, garlic and a hint of oregano. Most of the tables were occupied with an eclectic mix of diners, and the low-lit room exuded a lively ambience without being loud. The tables were a mixture of sizes and shapes and were cheerfully hung with red tablecloths. The chefs tossed pizza bases into the air with verve and pizzazz.

A waiter stepped forward, led them to a table without fuss and left them with a smile and the menus.

Gabby gave hers a perfunctory glance and placed it on the table. ‘I already know what I’m having,’ she explained. ‘Artichokes, capers, goat’s cheese and olives. I always have that.’

‘Always?’

‘Yup. I don’t eat out often, so I like to know for sure that I’ll enjoy it.’

‘But maybe you could swap something out? Have extra mozzarella instead of capers? Ham instead of artichokes? Or why not try the special? You may find something you like better.’

Zander stopped at the sight of Gabby’s frown. For Pete’s sake. What was wrong with him? The answer was not one he liked: discomfort. This was the first time he’d gone out with a woman since Claudia’s death and he was assailed by an onslaught of nerves.

Zander hauled in a breath, reminded himself that this was a business dinner and it was time to put things on to that footing. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so didactic. Especially over pizza toppings.’

‘Apology accepted.’

Zander checked the menu, focused on the words and realised the irony of his own criticism. As a child, restaurants had been a nightmare for him—unable to decode the menus, he had simply pointed randomly to items with a varied degree of success. Or requested a staple generic dish that he knew would be on the menu.

The waiter returned with a long wooden board that held bread and three slender bottles of olive oil. ‘Rosemary, chilli and plain,’ he explained, then took their order and departed.

As she helped herself, Gabby glanced across at him. ‘So,’ she said, ‘I’m intrigued. To be honest, I can’t imagine what kind of business you have in mind.’

A sudden heat touched her cheekbones and she looked down at the piece of bread she held. A flash of insight told him with complete certainty that she had suddenly been hit with exactly the sort of business he currently had in mind.

Say something, Zander. Before the silence stretches so taut it snaps.

‘Before we go any further, I need to know if you are in a relationship.’

‘I can’t see how that could possibly pertain to a business proposition.’

Her voice had a definite chill factor and he couldn’t blame her.

‘Humour me. Please. Just a simple yes or no will suffice. Then I’ll explain.’

Gabby narrowed her eyes but then shrugged. ‘No.’

Out-of-all-proportion relief touched him that his assumption had been correct. It was an assumption based purely on the sheer intensity of the kiss they had shared. Somehow he’d been sure that if Gabby was seeing someone, she wouldn’t have kissed him like that.

‘So explain,’ she said flatly.

‘It all started with that kiss. There were some rather unfortunate repercussions.’

The waiter reappeared with their wine, and the interlude gave him time to gather his thoughts and marshal them into coherence.

She tilted her head, waited for him to continue.

‘You know my circumstances?’

‘Sure. You run a highly successful consultancy company, with offices in London, Germany and Ireland, you made your first million by the time you were twenty-seven, and you started your business from a rented garage whilst you slept in an ancient caravan because you gambled everything.’

Guilt delivered another sucker punch. He’d done all of that. His wife had died and it had kick-started his route to a success she would never see—a success that would not have happened had she lived.

It’s not that I don’t believe in you, Zan. It’s just not worth the risk. What’s wrong with what we have now? If you do something like that, I’ll never see you. I want us to be together, have a family, not risk losing the roof over our heads.

Claudia’s words were so clear in his head, but there was no point pursuing that path. Right or wrong, he’d done what he’d done.

‘All that is correct,’ he said. ‘But I meant my personal circumstances.’ Though he couldn’t blame Gabby for citing his business ones. This was supposed to be all about business.

‘I know that you were widowed. And as I said on Saturday I’m so very sorry. You must have been devastated.’

How to explain it? Explain that he had been blasted with grief—grief at the loss of a life so young, grief that the girl he’d fallen in love with aged sixteen should have been taken, grief at the waste, the sadness, the sheer horror of watching someone you cared about fight and lose, slowly get weaker and fade away.

‘It was difficult,’ he said.

He waited as their pizzas arrived, black pepper and parmesan were dispensed. Then he continued, aware of the intent concentration of her expression, grateful for the lack of question or comment. Gabby was letting him tell the story as he wanted.

‘Since Claudia’s death I haven’t had another relationship, and to be honest I am good with that. I haven’t wanted one and I still don’t. However, my family have different ideas. They are worried about me, think I need to move forward...and they spend way too much of their time trying to set me up.’ He paused to sample the pizza and nodded. ‘You’re right. This is incredible.’

‘Glad you like it.’ She paused to pour chilli oil over her pizza. ‘It’s nice that your family cares.’

For a second he saw wistfulness cross her face.

‘Yes. But on Saturday, after our...encounter, I went back to Mum and Dad’s and everyone fell on me with joy.’

‘Why?’

He sighed. ‘We were spotted by one of my mum’s friends. Edna Harris, if you want to know full details.’ The woman had an uncanny ability to nose out secrets, to be in the ‘right’ place at the ‘right’ time. ‘She headed straight for Casa Grosvenor to share the glad tidings and my family are thrilled.’

Gabby’s face held bemusement. ‘OK. But I’m still not seeing this. All you had to do was explain you were helping out an old schoolmate with a hen challenge. End of.’

‘Given the detail Edna went into about what she saw, it would have been a tricky explanation.’

Gabby speared an artichoke heart and shook her head. ‘Yes, but...’

‘You’re right. I could have explained it. I decided not to.’

‘Because...?’

The artichoke was halted, halfway to her mouth, and for a moment his gaze snagged on her lips. He remembered their feel, the taste of her, the sheer unexpected passion and desire that kiss had evoked...

Deep breath. He decided he might as well go for it. ‘Because I thought it would be a great idea to pretend you are my girlfriend.’

The artichoke heart fell from her fork.

‘That’s why I’m here. I want to hire you to be my fake girlfriend.’

CHAPTER THREE

GABBY WATCHED THE descent of the artichoke heart on to the tomato sauce of her pizza as her brain scrambled for a response to his words...questioned whether she could have heard them correctly. Perhaps this was Zander Grosvenor’s idea of some sort of bizarre joke. Perhaps her tomato-splattering response was being recorded by an unseen camera. If so, the image could be labelled The Personification of Stupefaction. Or maybe she had misheard him?

Trying not to gibber, she surveyed his expression—outwardly calm, with a hint of tension in his jawline.

Eventually her brain decided on a single syllable. ‘Why?’ Immediate hindsight suggested a simple no would have been a better choice, followed by a rapid exit.

Zander sipped his wine, then placed the glass down, his fingers still around the base. For a second she studied his hand—its size, its strength, the very faint smattering of hair, the sturdiness of his wrist—and a funny little thrill shot through her.

Wrenching her gaze away, she looked up. ‘Why would you want to hire a fake girlfriend? If you need a girlfriend, I’m pretty sure you could muster up a real one.’ The man was gorgeous and loaded and—oh, God, had she just given him the wrong idea? ‘Not me, obvs. But I’m sure there would be plenty of women who would go out with you for nothing.’

‘I don’t want a real girlfriend. I don’t want a real relationship. Not right now.’ The words or ever seemed to hover unspoken over the table, implicit in his tone, and Gabby could have kicked herself around the restaurant. The man was a widower, either still in love with his wife or not yet ready to move on. She’d been so inappropriately focused on his damn hand she’d lost the plot.

‘I’m sorry, Zander. I didn’t mean any disrespect to Claudia.’

‘None taken.’

‘But I still don’t get why on earth you would want a pretend girlfriend.’

‘Because it would make my family happy.’ His sigh contained exasperation, but affection and warmth, as well. ‘They were genuinely so thrilled that I might have found someone.’

‘Did Edna Harris mention the bunny suit?’

‘Yup. But I don’t think they would have cared if you were naked.’

Had he really said that? Naked? The two syllables resonated in the air, evoking images he quickly censored. Move along.

‘My sisters were happy I’d lightened up and met someone “fun”. My mum was happy I’d met anyone, because she’s worried I’ll never get over Claudia.’

Do you think you will? She bit back the question. None of her business. God knew she didn’t like discussing her own personal circumstances, her own losses and how she’d dealt with them. So instead she picked up a piece of pizza and contemplated him over the rim.

‘I get that you want to make your family happy.’

Hell, she’d do anything for her grandmother. Anything at all. The familiar twinge of intertwined love, guilt and worry twinged her nerves. Her grandparents had used up their pension, the equity in their house on her—the cost of bringing up a child as they’d entered their seventies had taken a huge financial toll on them. Then, when her grandfather had died, his pension had stopped.

And now... Well, Gabby squirrelled away as much of her salary as she could for the future that she knew was imminent—the time when her grandmother would need more and more help at home to retain her independence. A time when there might be no choice but to find a residential care home. After all, Lucille had turned ninety the previous month.

Gabby would be more than happy to move in with her grandmother right now, but Lucille flatly refused, informing her that she didn’t need to be tied to an old lady—she needed to be living her life and enjoying her youth. Nothing would budge her.

‘Gabby?’

‘Sorry. The thing is that, however much you love your family, faking a relationship is a little extreme. Plus...surely it’s wrong.’

‘Wrong in what way?’

‘Well, it’s an outright lie, for a start. But it’s not only a factual lie. It goes deeper. You want to make them believe that you’re getting over Claudia, that you’re moving forward, when you aren’t.’

‘I have got over Claudia. In the sense that I am not still in love with her or her memory. But my family won’t accept that—they want proof, and the only proof I can offer them is a girlfriend.’

Gabby shook her head. ‘But if you’re over her, why not open yourself up to the idea of a real relationship? With someone you really like as opposed to a virtual stranger whom you kissed to help her out.’

For a treacherous instant the kiss returned to her mind, replayed in full neon pink bunny-suited glory. And in that instant a small voice from the deep recesses of her brain screamed at her to shut up! Questioned why she was having some sort of moral, intellectual discussion about this. Hell, if this man wanted a fake girlfriend, so what? She should take the opportunity and run with it.

Run where? interjected the voice of reason. Towards more kisses? That would be plain stupid.

‘My reasons for not wanting another relationship are personal. My objective here is to combat my family’s worries. And, from an entirely selfish viewpoint, I’d like them to cease their matchmaking efforts, which, frankly, are driving me nuts.’

‘But...it won’t work.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because presumably you don’t want to continue this fiction for ever. So what happens a few months down the line when we split up? They’ll start worrying again. Even more than they are now. Because if you dump the fake girlfriend—FG for short—then they’ll think it’s because of Claudia. And if FG dumps you, they’ll be worried that you’re heartbroken. Lose-lose.’

‘I’ve thought of that. I’d make it clear from the get-go that the relationship isn’t serious for either of us. You or me. It’ll be a bit of fun, an interlude...a first step on the relationship ladder.’