Fill-In Fiancee

“That’s it. Nodding acquaintances,” he confirmed.

“Hey, I’ll just look the other direction when I see you coming,” she volunteered, her insides twisting with what felt too much like rejection. Apparently she was good enough to be his fiancée, but not his friend. “If we meet in the hall, or share the same elevator or anything. I mean, we’ve never really talked before, so—”

“But there’s the rub, Sunny,” Brett admitted, his thumb stroking the rim of his teacup. “We really don’t know anything about each other, and we should. Especially if we’re going to convince my parents. Otherwise we’ll make mistakes. Tomorrow’s Friday,” he murmured thoughtfully. “You could move in tomorrow night and we’d have the whole weekend—and all of next week—to get to know each other. What do you say?”

“Tomorrow night? I thought you were joking about that.” Surprised, Sunny drew back. She hadn’t imagined he’d want her around until the last minute. The upside of his offer was that it included seven more nights away from her parents and the way their eccentricities were taking over her apartment. “If you have plans for the weekend, or dates next week, I’d be in the way. You’d have to explain me away.”

He offered up a toothy, irresistible smile. “Not a problem.”

“You won’t say I’m your American cousin, will you?”

“No, there won’t be any explaining. My calendar’s clear.”

Sunny debated. Even one less night of tofu and beans was appealing. “Um, if I moved in early, that would have to include dinner, too,” she bargained.

He lifted a shoulder as if the matter was inconsequential. “I know a great restaurant where we can celebrate our first night together. I can make reservations there, or we can hang out at my place and throw steaks on the grill.”

“So you do eat red meat.”

He gazed at her, clearly puzzled. “Is that an asset?”

“Definitely,” Sunny confirmed. “I’m not a vegetarian and I don’t intend to be. I’ll pack tonight. Because it looks like we have something in common, after all.”

Brett stood next to his car in the parking lot of the coffee shop. “What?” he asked. “You didn’t leave your car in the lot and walk over, did you?”

“Oh, no, I always take the bus to work.”

“Really?” He appeared surprised by the information. “Well, get in then. There’s no sense in you taking the bus home.”

Sunny took an involuntary step back and waved him off. “No, thanks. You probably have other things to do and—”

“Nothing but go back to the same apartment complex you’re going to.” Brett walked around the late model sports car and opened the door for her.

She hesitated. This was all happening too quickly. Tomorrow she was moving in with the office heartthrob. She’d just shared coffee—and tea—with him. And they’d actually touched—an unexpected contact that had left Sunny breathless, and quivery inside. The kind that put a great big question mark where her brains ought to be.

The thought of sitting beside him in the confines of that sporty little coupe, which was as blue as his eyes, made her go weak.

Sunny was not the kind of woman to rush into things. She methodically thought situations through, made logical decisions.

Yet here she was, swept away by a devil-may-care Englishman and his goofy scheme. She was moving into his life and jumping into the fancy leather passenger seat of his convertible as if she belonged there.

She reluctantly slid onto the seat, thinking luxury had never felt this good. The door closed after her with a quiet whoosh of air. She detected his clean, tangy scent, over and above the leather and the car polish.

“I didn’t expect you to drive me home,” Sunny said primly, as he put the car into Reverse.

“Don’t be silly.” He slipped a pair of reflective sunglasses on, then checked his rearview mirror.

From the corner of her eyes Sunny glimpsed the sunglasses, wondering if he was looking at her. She self-consciously adjusted the hem of her short skirt and tucked it under her thigh.

Brett’s mouth twitched, but he stared straight ahead at the road.

“You can, um, just drop me off at the pool house.” Sunny tried to sound casual, but the fact was she didn’t want to run into her parents. She’d wind up explaining them to Brett—and then he’d have the last laugh.

He didn’t answer, but expertly turned the car onto a main arterial. In less than five minutes they would be at the complex. “We may have to rethink our office game plan,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because it looks like we’ll be carpooling.”

“Oh, no. I’ll still take the bus,” she protested.

“But what would my folks think if I drove to work and you took the bus?”

“That maybe you work late, or I work early, or…”

“I don’t think so. They’d know in a minute I’d never let my fiancée ride the bus when I could share five minutes alone with her.” He paused. “I’ve always thought being alone in a car with someone of the opposite sex is kind of…sexy. Don’t you think?”

Sunny swallowed. “Sexy?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “You know, luv. The idea of being alone, encapsulated in a moving car. Music and conversation. Sitting shoulder to shoulder.” He focused on the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Of course, you Americans have a phrase for it—’fast cars, fast women.”’

“I guarantee this is one woman who is not in the fast lane,” Sunny clarified. “In case you were wondering.”

An amused smile spread over his face. “I dare say that is probably for the best.”

A few moments slipped by before she realized he had intentionally hit a hot spot with her. One she’d have to address. “Speaking of parents,” she began hesitantly, “I’d just as soon keep mine out of this.”

“Oh?”

“Well, we might run into them, being in the same complex and all, and I’d just as soon not have that happen. I certainly don’t want them to know I’m posing as your girlfriend.”

“Fiancée,” he corrected.

“Whatever.” She waved her hand. “It’s enough for them to think I’m staying with a friend for a couple of weeks.”

“Okay. That’s fine with me. If that’s the way you want it.”

“I do.”

A moment later, Brett pulled off onto the side street adjacent to the apartments. Then, offering her a lopsided grin, he wheeled into the drive. Sunny clutched the armrest and pressed her shoulder blades into the bucket seat. She still slid into him.

“Don’t you just love the way a sports car takes the curves and hugs the road?” he asked drolly, letting the steering wheel spin back within his hands.

“Hugs?” she repeated, pulling herself upright. “I thought I was going to be in your lap.”

He passed the pool and clubhouse, and pulled up at the first intersection. She straightened her skirt again and unconsciously motioned for him to make a right, toward her apartment building.

“Of course, when we drive together you will need to hug me instead of the door,” he said.

“I wasn’t hugging the door,” she argued. But the truth was she had intended to leave as much space between them as possible. “And you can stop right here.”

Brett pulled into the first available parking space and threw the car into Park. He stripped his sunglasses off and tossed them on the dash. “Back to my parents again, okay? They’ll expect us to be lovey-dovey, you know. And they’ll like your proper edge, as it will make the story all the more believable. But…”

“Yes?”

“How about a kiss?” he suggested boldly, his gaze dropping possessively to her mouth. “For you may find that you can’t tolerate me. And that would be a pity, to put on a show for my mother and father, when you find me insufferable.”

“I— I never said you were insufferable.”

“Really?”

His gaze trailed over her curiously. He turned on the seat, leaning closer to her, then waited, giving her the opportunity to withdraw, to protest.

But she didn’t—and for the life of her she didn’t know why.

“Or we could say,” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheeks, “that we’ll share a kiss to seal the secret about who I really am.”

“I won’t tell,” she promised, feeling dizzy as he loomed closer.

“Mmm. Good…” His mouth first nuzzled hers. His lips, so soft and warm and tasting of tea and lemon, almost surprised her. The tip of his nose brushed against hers, and raspy stubble scraped her cheek. He smelled seductively fresh, like salt and sea air.

When Sunny involuntarily kissed him back—her mind in a muddle, her senses on overload—Brett deepened the kiss, sending earth-shattering sensations through her. Her respiration grew shallow and her heart started to pound. And behind her eyelids she saw a panorama of stars. Shooting stars. Spinning stars. Dazzling waves of stars.

Sunny’s hand went to his shoulder to steady herself, her fingers curving over the thick muscle there. His shoulders were so wide they seemed to envelop her, in a protective, supportive kind of way. Her fingertips inched upward, over the seam of his dress shirt. She discovered the warmth of his flesh above his starched collar and beneath his ear. The tip of her fingernail traced the neat edge of his haircut, the tiny hairs teasing the pad of her forefinger.

Brett flexed his shoulders, and groaned. He pulled reluctantly away, even as his mouth continued to taste hers.

Finally he broke the kiss and tipped his forehead against hers. “I do think we’ll get on,” he predicted softly. “My family should be suitably convinced that our affections are genuine. And if I didn’t know better, I’d be nearly convinced of it myself.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.