A Pretend Proposal: The Fiancée Fiasco / Faking It to Making It / The Wedding Must Go On

CHAPTER THREE

THOMAS did a double take when Elizabeth walked through the door of Antonio’s. He’d arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, assuming that he would have plenty of time to gather his thoughts and plot out his pitch. All of the women he knew were notorious for being late, in part because they preferred to make grand entrances. He should have known Elizabeth would be different. That was, after all, part of her appeal for the role he was about to ask her to play.

Even arriving early, she managed to make an entrance. No mouths dropped opened in awe, and conversations continued as before. But something inside of Thomas shifted before going oddly still. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Who knew cute also could be so sexy?

Since their meeting a few hours earlier, she’d changed her clothes. No real surprise, since he had as well, trading in his business attire for a more casual pair of pants and a button-down shirt. He’d left off his tie, too, but he found himself tugging at his collar anyway.

Her transformation was far more dramatic. He wouldn’t have expected the woman he’d met in the severely cut suit and serviceable pumps to own such a fashionable outfit and shoes. The lines of the dress and the heels gave her the illusion of greater height. As small as she was, she had a pair of killer legs.

Because he felt himself beginning to ogle them, he returned his gaze to her face. That wasn’t the safer bet, he realized immediately. She’d done something different with her hair. It was no longer quite so straight and tidy. Tousled was the word that came to mind. He wondered if it would feel as soft as it appeared. As for that mobile mouth of hers, it was now twice as inviting thanks to a slick coat of tinted gloss. How would it taste?

Uh-oh.

He scrambled to put the brakes on the hormones that threatened to rev into hyperdrive. Given what he was about to propose, quite literally, he couldn’t afford to let anything more than business transpire between them. He couldn’t have her thinking he wanted more than what he was offering: a mutually beneficial business arrangement.

He stood when she reached the table. It was second nature, thanks to his grandmother, as was pulling out Elizabeth’s chair. In fact, Thomas beat the maitre d’ to it. The man smiled uncomfortably before withdrawing.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, as she settled in her seat.

Thomas glanced at his watch, even though it wasn’t necessary. “Actually, you’re early.”

“But not as early as you are.”

He shrugged and sat down. “It’s a habit of mine.”

A bad one according to the last four women he’d dated, those grand entrances and all. They didn’t appreciate answering the doorbell before they were ready to wow him with what waited on the other side.

“A good one,” Elizabeth said, as if reading his mind. “There’s nothing worse than keeping people waiting, at least in my book.”

Thomas agreed wholeheartedly, but that didn’t change his plan to keep her waiting, at least until the entrée course, before he started his pitch. By that point, he was hoping she wouldn’t stand up and walk out on him, though he wasn’t ruling out the possibility.

He bided his time, relying on small talk as their drinks arrived. She went with a glass of plain water garnished with a wedge of lemon. Although he wanted to brace himself with a scotch, neat, he settled for red wine, which he intended to sip slowly. He needed to keep a clear head—especially since the woman seated opposite him was having a definite, if odd, effect on his equilibrium. Nerves, he told himself. After all, he had a lot riding on the outcome of the evening. But then, so did she.

By the time the waiter brought their salads and a basket of warm rolls, they had thoroughly dissected the extended weather forecast for the upcoming holiday weekend. It was amazing how much people could talk without really saying anything. Recalling the passion and conviction with which Elizabeth had described her agency’s mission to him earlier, he had a feeling she would be an engaging conversationalist if they ever strayed from the standard polite topics. Because he wanted to, he didn’t. Stay with the script. This wasn’t a date.

Finally, their dinners arrived and the moment of truth was at hand. She’d just taken the first bite of her grilled salmon when he put down his fork and cleared his throat. She glanced over in question. Now or never, he decided.

“I mentioned on the phone that I had an unusual proposal for you.”

She nodded, swallowed. “Unorthodox is how I believe you phrased it.”

“Yes. It is. Very.” He swallowed as well, even though he had not yet touched his steak or the sautéed baby portabella mushrooms in wine sauce that smothered it. “I want to assure you, this isn’t something I make a habit of.”

Thomas had hoped to sound reassuring, but her expression made it clear he was doing a lousy job of it. She appeared a little alarmed, and no wonder given the way he was acting. Better just to get right to it, he decided, except that he didn’t. Rather, he went on in uncharacteristic bumbling fashion.

“It’s just that I find myself in a tight spot. I told someone—someone very dear to me—that I am … that is, that I have been seeing …” He laughed uncomfortably. “This is awkward.”

Across from him, Elizabeth smiled encouragingly, though he thought he saw her glance toward the exit.

“The long and the short of it is I need … I need a …” His gaze focused in on her mouth and he swore his own started to water. “I need a woman.”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that he’d singled her out or concerned for her safety given his intense stare. One thing she knew for certain, she was curious. Why on earth did he need a woman? Surely female companionship was not in short supply for a man as successful and handsome as he was. There had to be a rational explanation for what he’d just said.

So, in her most polished business tone, she inquired politely, “Exactly what do you need a woman for, Mr. Waverly?”

“To act as my fiancée.”

He was exhaling in a gust, even as Elizabeth’s breathing stopped. She hadn’t seen this coming.

“Are you asking …? You want me to …? You want to get married?” Her voice rose on the last word. Some of the restaurant’s other patrons glanced their way.

“No. Actually, I just need someone to pose as my fiancée for a while.” He smiled weakly. “So, um, under the circumstances, I think you should call me Thomas.”

She rubbed her right temple in lieu of a response. She’d fallen into an alternative universe. That was the only explanation that made sense. She was wearing Mel’s dress and had somehow become, well, Mel. Except that in the big mirror on the wall behind Thomas, she could see her reflection. The dress was Mel’s, but Elizabeth was definitely the woman wearing it. And looking gobsmacked. She snapped her mouth closed.

“I know. Crazy, right?” Thomas said on an uncomfortable laugh.

“Certifiable,” she agreed.

Both of them were, because, Elizabeth now knew for sure that she was feeling flattered. Thomas Waverly, successful businessman and five-alarm hottie, wanted her to act as his fiancée? But …

“Why?” she managed to ask at last.

His expression sobered. “Before we get to that, I want to make it clear that I’m not expecting you to do me a favor. I was thinking more like, we could, uh, do each other a favor. You help me out by posing as my intended, and I personally match the donation I’ve already decided to make to Literacy Liaisons on Waverly Enterprises’s behalf. Between those two contributions, your endowment will be realized.”

Because her mouth threatened to fall open again, she took a sip of her water. This was more than she’d hoped for. It was everything she wanted, being handed to her on a silver platter. A silver platter held by one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. She checked the mirror a second time, giving that alternative universe theory another go. The same baffled- looking blonde as before gaped back at her. Again, Elizabeth asked, “Why?”

“Right.” He reached for his wine and took a sip. Setting the glass back on the table, he said, “Here’s the thing. I told my grandmother that I was involved in a serious relationship with a woman.”

“Serious as in headed toward the altar.”

“Right. The problem is I’m not, but she’s expecting to meet, um, my significant other …” He coughed. Choked? Before spitting out, “This weekend.”

The long holiday weekend was mere days away, and Elizabeth already had made plans to spend part of it with her parents at their annual soy burger-and-tofu barbecue, but that wasn’t what bothered her. Flattery only went so far. As did business dealings.

Her tone took on an edge that she rarely used and had never allowed to seep into her professional life when she said, “You lied to your grandmother?”

Hot or not, the man dropped several points in her estimation. Make that numerous points, and still counting. She didn’t care how handsome he was or how successful. Nor did it matter how desperate she was for his dual donation—and, God, she was desperate for that donation. But a man who would lie to a frail, helpless little old lady—and that was the image that came to Elizabeth’s mind—was a jerk. End of story. She retrieved the napkin from her lap and set it on the table, fully intending to leave.

Thomas rose part way from his chair as she stood. “Please. Stay and hear me out.”

“You lied to your grandmother,” she repeated flatly.

“Yes. I did. It sounds horrible, I know.” He dropped back into his seat.

“That’s one word for it,” Elizabeth replied crisply, unwilling to let him off the hook, no matter how appealing he looked wriggling from it. Still, he did look remorseful. Slowly, she returned to her seat and spread the napkin back over her lap. What would it hurt to hear him out?

“Let me give you a little background before you form a solid opinion of the situation.” Thomas held out his hands in appeal. “She claimed to be dying and, well, seeing me happily settled is a priority for her. I was hoping to take her mind off her aches and pains.”

“Your grandmother is dying?”

“Her doctor says no, but …” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “She’s sure she is. And she’s not easily dissuaded once her mind is made up. I hate seeing her so troubled, especially when there’s no need to be. I’m fine. Perfectly happy, in fact. I’m just not married and making great-grandbabies for her to spoil.”

“So you’re lying to her to protect her?”

“I don’t want to lie at all, but yes. If she thinks I’m heading toward ‘I do,’ then she’ll be able to enjoy her life again. She deserves that.”

“That’s … sweet.” And it was.

At least his unorthodox offer was rooted in something other than blatant self-interest. Still, what he was suggesting was crazy, but no more so than the fact that Elizabeth was actually considering it.

“Do you really think your grandmother would buy that you and I are …” She made a winding motion with her index finger, unable to speak the actual words. “I can’t believe I’m your usual type.”

She wasn’t angling for a compliment. She wasn’t expecting him to tell her that she was beautiful or even that he found her attractive. Expecting? No. But part of her must have been hoping, she realized, when her heart pinched painfully at his reply.

“You’re not my type in the least, which, in a way, makes you perfect. My grandmother knows the sort of women I prefer to date. Since I’ve never allowed something serious to begin with them, she assumes that’s because I’ve been dating women who are all wrong for me.”

“Have you been?” She immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s really none of my business.” Even if she was, at this very moment, considering becoming his bride-to-be, at least for appearances’ sake.

“Possibly. Probably.” He shrugged carelessly. “I’m not looking for a deep and committed relationship. That’s not what I’m after.”

Ah, one of those. Elizabeth had dated a couple such men just out of college, not that she’d known their preferences going in, of course. Nope. She’d found out the hard way and wound up with a dinged-up heart for her naiveté.

“Which reminds me,” Thomas was saying. “I never thought to ask if you were seeing someone.”

His complexion bleached a little as he awaited her reply. She wasn’t trying to exploit that with her hesitation. She just wanted to find a way to relay her single status without making herself sound like a loser.

“I date here and there,” she said at last. “But I’m not seeing anyone in particular.”

“Terrific.” He had the grace to grimace. “That came out wrong. What I mean is if you agreed to act as my fiancée, I wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

She appreciated that, but … “Excuse me for saying so, Mr…. er … Thomas. The situation is already awkward. I barely know you. We met only today. And you’re asking me to pose as your fiancée in an attempt to fool your elderly grandmother into believing you’ve found your soul mate.”

He grimaced again. “It sounds even worse when you say it. In my defense, there’s nothing for me to gain here. I’m doing this for the right reasons, even if I seem to be going about it the wrong way. I love my grandmother, Elizabeth. She’s pretty much all the family I have. She basically raised me.”

So many layers to the man, Elizabeth thought. She wanted him to be what he first appeared when he suggested the arrangement: shallow and callous. Then it would be much easier to tell him no, the sizable donations he was promising be damned. She had standards. She had principles. She also apparently had a soft spot for men who had soft spots for their aging grandmothers.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about her,” she suggested, folding her hands in her lap.

“Nana Jo?”

Nana Jo. Cute. He scored another point in his favor. Elizabeth smiled her encouragement.

“She’s a pistol.” His expression turned fond. “She has an opinion on everything and offers it freely, whether you want to hear it or not.”

“My mother’s that way, too.” Elizabeth had little doubt her expression was one hundred and eighty degrees from fond. She shook off all thoughts of Delphine. “And right now Nana Jo’s opinion is that you should be married.”

“Actually, that’s been her opinion since I graduated from college.” He shrugged.

“But you’re not marriage-minded. Commitment’s not your thing. You prefer to keep your options open and continue to play the field.” She paraphrased his earlier comment.

His frown came as a surprise. She got the feeling he wasn’t happy with her assessment, though he didn’t try to correct her.

“About a year ago, my grandmother started telling me she didn’t have long for this life and that the only way she could leave this world peacefully was to know I was settled and happy.”

“That’s because she loves you.”

“And I love her. I’d do anything for her. As I said, she raised me.”

Elizabeth tamped down the questions begging to be asked. Chief among them: Where were his parents when he was growing up? Was he, like Mel, the product of a broken home? She pitied him if that were true. Skeet and Delphine might not believe in the institution of marriage, so their exchange of vows was unrecognized by the state as legally binding, but they were committed to one another in their own way. As counterculture and plain old wacky as they could be, at least Elizabeth had the luxury of an intact family. Or she had until her brother decided to drop out of high school and then drop out of sight.

Thomas was saying, “I told her I was seeing someone special mostly to give her something positive to occupy her thoughts. It worked a little too well and spiraled out of control. From that simple statement she extrapolated my impending nuptials.”

“And you didn’t do anything to stop her?”

“I didn’t have the heart. It made her so happy. She went from telling me which outfit she wanted to be buried in to what she planned to wear to my wedding. A pink organdy gown, by the way. She sent me a magazine clipping of it, as well as suggestions for my tuxedo. Black tails. Very formal and timeless, in her opinion.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a bemused smile that tugged at Elizabeth’s heart. Oh, he’d dug himself a deep hole all right.

“Why not tell her the truth now? They say honesty is the best policy for a reason.”

“I’ve thought about it. Believe me. But I’m afraid Nana Jo will just go back to fretting over her health and my future, and dropping brochures for headstones in the mail to me.”

“But you actually don’t plan to get married to me or anyone,” she pointed out. “Eventually, your grandmother is going to figure that out.”

“I know.” He rubbed his chin. “Which is why I was thinking that, after a reasonable length of time, I would tell her that things between you and I had ended.”

“My doing, of course.”

He smiled guiltily. “She’d be upset. But I think she also would be a little relieved that I almost made it to the altar.”

“Commitment phobia cured?”

With one eye closed, he squinted at her with the other. “You don’t pull any punches,”

he said wryly. “I had you pegged as practical, but not quite so blunt.”

“That’s my professional persona,” she reminded him. “I can hardly afford to insult someone who is about to cut my agency a check.”

“Present company excluded, of course.”

“Your check—”

“Checks. One from my business. One from me.”

“Whether one check or two, they are coming with a lot of strings,” she reminded him.

“I want to make one thing clear. The check from Waverly Enterprises will be forthcoming regardless. I believe in your cause, and I respect what you’re doing.”

Slightly mollified, she said, “Thank you.”

“As for the other check, the one from me personally, yes, it does have strings as you called them. But I prefer to think of them as conditions, in which case they would serve to keep what would go on between us a business transaction as well, just with the funds coming from my personal bank account rather than my company’s.”

That made some sense, but … “I’m not saying I agree, but let’s discuss that business transaction. What exactly would it entail?”

“Some of your time, for starters. We would need to get up to speed on each other in short order. We’re supposed to have been dating for several months. Beyond knowing that you have a dog named Howie and started your nonprofit just after college graduation, I don’t know anything about you.”

“I could write up some notes.”

“Crib sheets, you mean?” His smile was engaging.

“I never had to resort to them myself.” She regretted the chiding comment when his lips flattened into a thin line.

“For the record, I’m not a fan of cheating, or lying, although I can understand where you might find that hard to believe right now. See, this is exactly the reason we need to spend time together before this weekend.”

“Assuming I agree.”

“Assuming that. Yes.”

“So, I would meet your grandmother and visit with her over the weekend?”

“That’s right. She’s incredibly easy to talk to and fun to be around. She plays a mean game of cribbage. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself,” he said.

“Assuming I agree to do this,” she repeated.

“Assuming.”

But they both seemed to know she was leaning in that direction.

“I won’t lie to her, Thomas.” This time, his given name slipped easily from Elizabeth’s lips. It was important they were clear on this point. She might be willing to bend her principles, but she would not break them. “For her to assume is one thing, but if she flat-out asks me a question that requires me to lie, I won’t do it.”

“This is assuming you agree.” He beat her to it this time.

“Let me make something else clear. The only reason I am even entertaining the possibility of doing this is because Literacy Liaisons means so much to me.”

“I know that.”

Of course he did. He was banking on it, she realized.

“So, is that a yes?”

She exhaled slowly, knowing her life was about to take a huge and unexpected turn. “Yes.”

Once Elizabeth agreed, the rest of dinner passed in a blur for Thomas. When it came time for the check, he didn’t remember eating, possibly because more than half of his steak remained untouched on his plate, as did the side of risotto and steamed vegetables.

He was relieved that she’d said yes, of course. Her agreement was what he’d hoped for. Still, he couldn’t quite shake his apprehension. Now, he had a fiancée—a woman who was also a stranger. He needed to remedy their unfamiliarity and fast.

As he walked her to her car a little later, he said, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She stopped, blinked. “Tomorrow?”

“We only have a few days to get to know one another as well as two people who have been dating for several months would,” he reminded her.

“Oh, is that all?” He appreciated her attempt at humor, even if her smile was forced. “So, where and what time?”

“Does nine o’clock work for you?”

Her brow crinkled. “It’s a little late,” she began. “I’m an early riser, which means I tend to turn in not long after the sun sets.”

“In the morning,” he clarified.

“Oh. Well, I have to work.”

“Yes. I realize that. I was hoping maybe I could come by your offices, see what you do. You can tell anyone who asks that I’m a potential contributor, which is true,” he added, in case she was going to remind him that she wasn’t willing to lie outright about their relationship.

“Hmm.” He watched as Elizabeth mentally flipped through her morning’s schedule. “I think that will work.”

“Terrific.”

Their plans for the next day finalized, they stood in awkward silence beside her car. Though this wasn’t an actual date, it had all the hallmarks of a first one thanks to the potent combination of anticipation and apprehension he was feeling. Thomas stuffed his hands into his front pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“So.”

“Thanks for dinner.”

Since she’d already thanked him twice on the short walk to her car, he said, “You’re welcome. Again.”

“Well …” She held up her keys and gave them a shake.

This wouldn’t do. Not in the least. Nana Jo was too canny to believe that he and Elizabeth were wildly attracted to one another, much less mildly smitten, given their stilted behavior. Thomas might not want to be in love, but he knew how people in love acted.

Before she could slide onto the driver’s seat, he stopped her by saying, “I think we need to get something out of the way right now.”

“What?”

“This.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets, framed her face with them and leaned down, unable to resist the sweet temptation of those full lips. He thought he heard her sigh. He knew he wanted to moan, and that was before her lips parted. His hands moved from her face to her shoulders and then down to her waist, pulling her closer. It was the small hands lightly touching his back that unnerved him.

He didn’t trust himself with her, he realized. He didn’t trust himself not to become greedy and demanding. He drew back—but not too quickly; trust be damned, he wanted to savor her—and gazed into a pair of surprised dark eyes.

It must have been his libido-fueled imagination talking, but he swore she asked, “Why did you stop?”

“I … I …”

While he stammered, she took a step back, creating an acceptable amount of space between their bodies. This time, he heard her clearly when she said, “Why did you do that?”

“Sorry.” The apology was second nature. It slipped out even before he could wonder if he meant it. She accepted it with a nod, but appeared to be waiting for an explanation. Did he have one?

He knew what his reason for the kiss had been before their mouths met: to put them both at ease about any upcoming shows of affection intended for his grandmother’s benefit. And, okay, he’d been a little curious, too. What man wouldn’t be when looking at that pair of perfect lips? But how to explain the latter to Elizabeth without damning himself, especially since he’d made it clear their supposed relationship was for show only? So, he went with the former. Sort of.

“I thought it might take the edge off.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and no wonder. As explanations went, this one had a decidedly sexual overtone. It also was inaccurate, as he knew only too well. That kiss hadn’t taken the edge off of anything. Not in the least. If anything, it had heightened his curiosity. What other secrets were hidden beneath the woman’s prim exterior?

He tried again and said, “It’s just that people who are engaged and presumably in love are expected to kiss and be affectionate with one another.”

Hell, most people assumed engaged couples were doing a whole lot more than that. Just that fast, the image of he and Elizabeth embroiled in a heated encounter flashed through his brain. Scorched through it, more like. It was all he could do to keep a moan from escaping.

“I guess you’re right,” Elizabeth said. She looked about as off balance as he felt.

“My grandmother will expect to see us touch one another and be comfortable doing so.”

He reached over and tucked some hair behind one of her ears, testing himself. It was every bit as soft as he’d assumed it would be.

“Okay.” He watched her swallow.

“So, tomorrow. Around nine.”

“At my office.” She smiled uncertainly, probably wondering what she’d gotten herself into, he thought.

“At your office.”

“See you then.”

“Looking forward to it.” A polite response that was also disturbingly honest in this case.

She slipped behind the wheel of her car. Thomas closed the door and stepped back, offering a wave once she started the engine and shifted into Drive.

Long after he lost sight of her taillights in the flow of traffic, he stood in the parking lot of Antonio’s. He was going to have no problem convincing Nana Jo that he found Elizabeth Morris attractive. No problem at all. Which caused him to wonder: What had he just gotten himself into?