My Super-Hot Fake Wedding Date

by Leigh James

  Mia nodded, as if that were fascinating. She adjusted her bikini top a little lower as she took in Bob’s broad shoulders. “You’re one of the good guys. Like a bodyguard with a heart of gold. And a big stick.”

  I almost spit my wine out as Sienna chuckled.

  Bob looked confused. “You watch a lot of lacrosse?”

  “No.” Mia frowned. “But I know the positions—my brother played. Let’s just say I’m a fan.” Her gaze traveled appreciatively down his handsome face to his chest. Mia was a fan, all right. “When did you start playing?”

  I frowned, watching her pretend to talk to him about lacrosse.

  “Where on earth did you find him?” Sienna whispered.

  “Work,” I lied.

  “Did he deliver a nice package to you?” My sister grinned wickedly. “Was it a large one?”

  “Ugh, stop.” I angrily chewed a bite of salad. “Mom told you, huh?”

  “Of course she did.” Her gaze flicked up toward my parents’ end of the table, where they were holding court with Tim’s parents, Aunt Evie, and some of Dad’s tennis friends. “She was texting me before you were even out the door of her office.”

  “And what did Her Highness have to say?”

  “That he’s a pauper. That it’s pretend.” Sienna watched Bob with a practiced, appraising eye. “She thinks he’s doing you a favor or that you’re giving him something to be here.”

  “I gave him something, all right.” I popped a cherry tomato into my mouth and forced myself to smile as I chewed it.

  Sienna clapped her hands together. “Ah, so you traded for sex? That’s so much better than money. Who’d have thought that would be enough to convince him to be your date?”

  “Um…”

  “I love having a family scandal at my wedding.” Sienna’s eyes were shining. “I can’t wait to tell my nanny so she can tell my kids someday!”

  I snorted. “Stop being ridiculous. There’s no scandal.”

  “You traded a favor for sex. That’s totally a scandal in our family, even though it’s not particularly uncommon.” She looked as though she knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Pardon me, but there was no trade. We had sex because we like each other. I mean, what’s not to like?” I glanced at Bob again, annoyed to find him smiling at something Mia was saying. “Pryce heard us earlier, though. That’s the only reason I’m even talking about it. It was beyond embarrassing to come out of our room and find him scuttling down the hallway.”

  Sienna frowned. “He does scuttle, the little pervert.”

  “I’m sure he’ll tell Mom.” I hoped to God he would. “Then she’ll know Bob and I are legit.”

  My sister raised her eyebrows as she had another sip of wine.

  “What?”

  She jerked her chin in the direction of Bob. “He doesn’t seem like your type.”

  “What exactly is my type, again?”

  Sienna blinked at me. “That’s exactly it. It’s been so long, I can’t remember. But Dean Smith wasn’t as hot as that, not by a mile.”

  I sighed. “No, he wasn’t.”

  “Well, maybe things have changed. Maybe you’re ready for some real action. I’ll pass you the torch.” Instead, she handed me a bottle of wine. “Just don’t get so hammered that you embarrass me or attempt to outshine me on my wedding weekend. By the way, I’ll have Tim check in with Bob. He should hang with the guys.”

  “Thanks, Sienna.”

  She winked at me. “Oh, and watch out for Mia. She ditched her boyfriend last week, and she’s looking to party. She’s totally slutty, you know? In a high-class, prep-school way, of course.”

  I nodded tightly. “Of course.”

  TSM, a.k.a. Totally Slutty Mia, was busy eye-fucking Bob as she leaned over to show him something on her phone.

  I couldn’t bear to watch.

  “Hiiiiii.” I slid onto Bob’s lap and was relieved to feel no raging boner pointed in TSM’s direction. “I missed you.” I kissed his cheek.

  Bob looked dumbstruck—but only for a second.

  He grinned up at me. “I missed you, too.”

  My dad came up and clapped Bob on the back, hard. “Maddy, who’s this fellow?”

  “This is Bob.” I sprang out of his lap and smiled nervously at my dad. My dad was sweet, but mostly useless; my mother ran the show. But Dad could be an ally if there was something I could give him in return.

  Bob rose to his feet. “Mr. Delaney, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shook my father’s hand.

  My father checked him out from head to toe. He didn’t see anything too offensive because he asked, “Do you play tennis?”

  “Bob loves tennis,” I blurted out.

  Bob smiled, but he looked tense. “I do indeed.”

  “Well then!” My father rocked back on his heels. “Put down that beer, son. Tennis whites in twenty. See you on the clay.”

  “Yeah. Great.” Bob kept smiling as my father practically skipped away.

  My father loved tennis. He loved it a lot. He especially loved beating people. He really loved making his opponents cry. Or even better, cry and throw things.

  He’d never had a job, so tennis was sort of his purpose in life. It was the outlet for a gamut of emotions, the biggest one being bossiness. My mother never let him be the boss. Tennis was my father’s kingdom, and he lorded over it with an oscillating gleefulness and petulance.

  Bob turned to me. “How did you know I love tennis?”

  I patted his hand, trying to console him, but I felt myself starting to panic. “I was just guessing. You said you loved sports.”

  “I do love sports,” Bob said. I imagined he was a very loyal sort of person, that once he showed up for someone, he kept showing up. “And I do play tennis. It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  He shrugged those big shoulders. “I can get pretty competitive.”

  “Just have fun.” I smiled up at him. “You can do that, right?”

  Bob seemed to consider that. “I guess so.”

  “Perfect!” I gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’ll get you some tennis whites.”

  Bob smiled, flashing his dimple. “Okay, honey,” he said, clearly enjoying the opportunity to role play. “Thanks.”

  I couldn’t help grinning as I hustled off, but then I promptly frowned as TSM leaned back toward Bob. Grr.

  I was intercepted by my mother, who followed me from the table. “Madison, I’ve told you a million times, stop that frowning! It’s prematurely aging you.”

  I turned my frown on her. “Can you even feel your face anymore, Mother?”

  She smoothed her hair back. “Not really. I’d call it a vast improvement. I got stung by a bee last month, and I didn’t even know.”

  “That’s… That’s great, Mom.” I stopped in my tracks. “What do you want?”

  “Ah, yes.” She cleared her throat. “Pryce said he heard you and Mr. Palmieri having rather loud relations before lunch. Is that true?”

  I felt my cheeks heat, which was ridiculous. I was thirty, and it was only pretend sex that I’d intended to be overheard. “Yes, it’s true.” I bit my lip, trying to look guilty while simultaneously trying not to laugh. I couldn’t wait to tell Josie about all this.

  “So you’re actually serious about him?”

  I shrugged. “It’s new. We’re just having fun. Don’t book a wedding venue just yet.” I also didn’t want her hiring a private investigator to follow Bob like she’d done with Tim.

  My mother crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not like you to sleep around like this.”

  “I’m not sleeping around. He’s my boyfriend. I’m not sure why you’re being so judgmental. What I do is really none of your business, and it hasn’t been for some time. I’m an adult, Mom. Let’s be reasonable for once!”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re in a relationship, that impacts my family. That is absolutely my business, young lady. You know that Sienna’s
only getting married this weekend because I approved Tim after I vetted him. And that was after knowing his family for years. The only reason your sister is getting married is because I gave her permission. Yes, she’s a grown woman. Yes, Tim’s fortune is greater than ours. But no, it wasn’t just her choice. It was my choice. And when it’s time for you to marry, it will be my choice as well.”

  “That’s absofreakinglutely ridiculous.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you think it’s ridiculous or not. It’s the truth. You and your sister are worth billions, and I won’t see you squander yourself on some stud that belongs as a side dish and not as a main course.”

  “Mother, did you really just say ‘stud’?”

  “I did, sweetheart. And I get it.” She nudged me playfully. “In fact, I’d like to get it. Pryce said it sounded very athletic.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “You cannot ‘get’ it. Bob is not a side dish. And you can’t tell me who to marry. I’ll marry whoever I want, and if you want to disinherit me and let Sienna spend your billions on ridiculous outfits she may or may not wear, you do you. But I’m doing me!” I tossed my hair over my shoulder and stalked away before she could say anything else that would drive me insane.

  I stopped once I got around the corner and leaned against the wall for support. This is ridiculous. It was also nothing new. My mother had never forgiven me for breaking up with Dean Smith and his perfect house in Wellesley and his perfect pedigree and his boring nice-guy face. Dean Smith was approved.

  That was the real reason I’d never dated anyone else again—because she was always watching. And I knew no one would ever be good enough unless she cherry-picked the poor bastard from her incestuously tight social circle.

  No, thank you. When and if I ever got married, it would be to somebody nice, someone normal who I could trust to keep me rooted in the real world. Someone loyal. Someone, I realized, who was quite a lot like Bob.

  Chapter Eleven

  BOB

  I watched Maddy as she hurried off, her hair fanning out behind her.

  Why did I have to find girls with issues—particularly this tall, blond one—so compelling?

  I turned back to Mia, trying to follow what she was saying about the trendy bars she frequented in Boston. But all I heard was “Blah blah blah, me me me, blah blah blah.” Mia was certainly pretty, and she knew it, but I had no interest in her, all her cooing over my lacrosse history, or her eye-fuckery business. She was pure wedding-guest predator, looking to hook up and have a wild weekend with someone new. I didn’t judge her for that. I also couldn’t get into it.

  But I knew I was getting into something, all right. My heart had twisted when Maddy sat on my lap. I’d just about burst with pride, which was ridiculous. It was pretend, and I knew it.

  But still…I thought of the way she’d smiled at me. I was good at picking out fake smiles. Maddy’s was real.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh about her issues—her family was pretty screwed up. Speaking of which, Mr. Delaney waved impatiently from the head of the table. “Let’s get a move on!”

  “Excuse me.” I flashed the dimple at Mia, the only consolation prize I had to offer. “It was nice talking to you.”

  She looked vaguely surprised. Probably not too many men willingly left her presence.

  Still, I breathed a sigh of relief as I escaped and joined Mr. Delaney. “I’m ready, sir.” Tennis, and exercise in general, were where I felt most at home.

  “Just a friendly match.” Mr. Delaney patted my shoulder. “It should only hurt a little.”

  I changed into the tennis whites Madison had provided, and I was stretching near the changing rooms.

  “Are you nervous?” A female voice whispered behind me.

  I turned, and when I saw it was Mrs. Delaney, I jumped a little. “Not at all. I enjoy tennis. Your husband was very kind to include me.”

  She leaned against the building, her eyes raking over me yet again. “Don’t let Art fool you. He takes his tennis very seriously, probably more seriously than he takes his own daughters. He might not even know there’s a wedding going on this weekend, but he’ll be able to recite the lineup for the Australian Open, even though it’s still months away.” She smiled without warmth. “He was never much of a partner to me, you know. He’s left me alone an awful lot.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t know if I was sorry or not, but I needed to be polite. I decided to stretch my wrists next because it was the most benign thing I could think of.

  She leaned closer. “Not as sorry as I am, darling.”

  “Mom, hey!” Madison suddenly appeared, looking flushed. “Let’s give Bob a chance to warm up, okay?”

  Mrs. Delaney fanned herself. “I’d say he’s plenty hot already.”

  Maddy rolled her eyes. “Dad’s waiting, and he’s on the warpath. Let’s go.” She ushered her mother off and smiled at me nervously. “My dad can be a little intense about tennis.”

  “I can handle it. I play with all types of people. I’ll get a read on him, and I’ll adjust. I promise I won’t be a jerk.”

  “Oh no—no. That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried he’s going to be a jerk. Like, a big jerk. He’s a nice guy, but for some reason, the tennis court is where he lets his freak flag fly.” She gave me another tentative smile. “So just be ready.”

  “You’re cute when you’re worried about me.” My voice came out a little husky.

  Maddy squeezed my hand. “I’m not worried, not yet. Just let him win.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her nervous smile broadened. “Just let him win. And maybe make him look good.”

  “Um…okay.” Obviously, Maddy didn’t know me very well. I was a humble guy, and I didn’t like to show off, but I was a damn good athlete. Also, letting other people win violated my sense of fairness and honesty. It was like cheating and I hated cheating.

  Losing was so not my thing. I looked across the court at Art Delaney, who was wearing a sweatband across his forehead without an ounce of irony. He was more fit than I’d realized. The sinewy muscles in his calves were evidence of years on the court. He bent down to stretch his hamstring, and two other men walked out onto the court. One was older than Mr. Delaney, with a white mustache; the other was younger than me, fit and trim, rocking an enormous smart sports watch. They nodded to Mr. Delaney, who casually pointed in my direction. “That’s Bob,” he said. “Maddy’s new boyfriend. She says he can play.” He snorted.

  The men approached me. “I’m Lucas,” the younger one said, gripping my hand hard.

  “And I’m Frank.” The older gentleman shook my hand, too, and leaned closer. “You need to watch out for Art. He plays dirty.”

  “Bob, you’re with Frank. Lucas, with me.” Art nodded in my direction. “Good luck, son.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “Oh now, I don’t need luck.” Art tossed his racquet from one hand to another. “I’m the best.”

  “The best braggart,” Frank said under his breath, but loud enough for me, and quite possibly Art, to hear. “Thirty years I’ve been playing with this blowhard!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I chuckled as Frank crouched closer to the ground, gripping his racquet, with a gleam in his eye. My partner looked serious, eager to crush our opponents.

  Art hit a tennis ball right at Frank, and the old man lunged but wasn’t fast enough. The curses that spewed from his mouth actually made me blush. Art howled with laughter, then said, “Come on, Frank. You’re going to scare the kids away. Let’s play.”

  After a few more garbled swears, Frank righted himself. He leaned toward me. “Let’s crush this fucker. At least once in my life, I need to crush him!”

  “You’ve never beaten him?” I easily hit the serve back to Lucas.

  “No way! He’d never let me play here again!”

  “Thirty years, and you never beat him once?” I volleyed the ball back, and Lucas hit it into the net.

&n
bsp; “Goddammit!” Art yelled, his face red with fury. “What the hell was that?”

  “Not a big deal.” Lucas shook his head. “Sir.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s a goddamned big deal or not—”

  “Um, let’s just play, okay?” I nodded at Art, who looked positively flabbergasted at my interruption. “I mean, it’s fun. This court is amazing!” I flashed Mr. Delaney the dimple, but it had zero effect.

  “Love-fifteen,” Lucas announced.

  I returned it easily, then Art whacked the ball straight at my chest.

  “Hey!” I barely dodged it, shooting a look at Frank that asked, Is this guy for real?

  Frank shook his head. His look said I told you so!

  I caught a glimpse of Madison. She was sitting on the bench outside the court, watching nervously. She gave me a hopeful little wave, and I sighed.

  She wanted me to be nice to her dad. Rather, she wanted me to lose to him, even though his team was stacked and he was a cheat and a poor sport.

  I waved back.

  Then I let Art Delaney beat me.

  “That was terrible, son, terrible!” Frank said after the match, clearly disgusted. “And here I heard you were a ringer. I thought my streak would finally be over.”

  “Sorry, Frank.” I shrugged sheepishly. “I guess Art bested me in the end.”

  “Sellout.” Frank harrumphed and stalked off.

  Madison bounded up to me, her eyes sparkling. “My hero.”

  “Aw, c’mon. Your father’s better than me.”

  She shook her head. “No, he’s not, and you know it.” She peered past me to the court, where Art was picking apart Lucas’s performance. “My dad knows it, too.”

  “Will he still be happy about winning?” I didn’t see how he could be. Then again, cheating had never been my thing. I didn’t see the point.

  She nodded. “I’m ashamed to say it, but yes. Your partner, Frank? He’s never beaten my dad. They’ve known each other since we bought a house here. I don’t know why Frank keeps showing up.”