My Fake Fiancee

by Nancy Warren

  He was about to turn away when a hand clapped him on the shoulder and he heard a familiar voice. “Oh, good. You’re looking at rings. I thought the other night that you were making a mistake,” Piers said with fatherly friendliness.

  “Well, actually, I was just—”

  “Chelsea may say she doesn’t want to wear a ring because she works with food, but what about when she’s not working? Of course an engaged woman wants a ring.” He glanced down at the glittering display. “And, quite frankly, it’s a sign to other men that she’s taken. With a girl as beautiful as yours, I certainly would plant the ‘out of bounds’ sign as soon as possible.”

  “You know, Piers, I was thinking that my future wife should probably choose her own ring. What if she didn’t like my choice? She’d be stuck wearing it for years and years.”

  “Nonsense. She’s a modern woman,” the man replied. “If she doesn’t like the ring, you can bring it back and exchange it.” He patted David on the back once more. “This is so exciting. Good thing I saw you here, I can help advise you. I know a lot about diamonds, you know. I’ve been insuring jewelers for decades. Fascinating business.”

  “May I help you gentlemen?” a woman who reminded him a little of a teacher he’d had in fifth grade asked.

  “Yes,” Piers said. “David here wants to buy an engagement ring. A good quality one, mind.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  So David, who didn’t know a VVS diamond from his elbow and didn’t care to know, got a lesson in gemstones and very little choice but to buy one of them for a woman he had no intention of marrying.

  Since Piers was not only a self-proclaimed diamond expert, but also a shrewd businessman, he negotiated a nice discount on the ring they both agreed would look perfect on Chelsea’s hand. It was a simple solitaire containing a diamond that wasn’t the largest one in the collection but was of the highest quality, Piers assured him. He’d been drawn to that ring from the start because the minute he’d seen it he’d pictured it on Chelsea’s hand and knew it was the one.

  Lunch was the final event where everyone would be together and he knew Piers and his wife, and probably every other person there at the retreat, would obsessively check Chelsea’s hands every time they saw her if he didn’t shove this rock on her finger pronto, so he called her on her cell phone and asked her to meet him in their room before lunch. She answered him in a whisper.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked him when he’d made his request.

  “Yes. Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m in a flower-arranging course. I stepped outside but I don’t want them to hear me.”

  “Flower arranging? That sucks.”

  “It’s not bad. Actually, it could be useful for my business.”

  “That’s good.” He couldn’t help but add, “And an asset if you ever become a corporate wife.”

  “Did you call to tease me or are you wasting my friend-to-friend minutes for nothing?”

  “I can’t tell you on the phone. Can you sneak away early and come up to the room before lunch?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll see you at eleven forty-five.”

  He felt weird and a little sick as he waited for Chelsea in their huge room dominated by that bathtub that evoked the sight of her naked and golden when he’d walked in last night.

  Of course, if he didn’t look at the tub, he ended up staring at the bed where they’d spent some of the best hours of his life.

  Since they’d be checking out in the early afternoon, both of them had packed up this morning. With all their personal belongings tucked away in the two weekender bags standing sentry by the door, the suite seemed particularly impersonal and only reminded him that after they got back to the city their wild night of passion would be nothing more than memories.

  He found himself pacing. He was glad they’d drunk the champagne last night or he might have been tempted to open it for tradition’s sake, which would totally send the wrong message.

  The thing of it was, how did you give a diamond ring to a hot woman you’d just had sex with while asking her not to marry you?

  13

  “WHAT IS IT?” CHELSEA asked as she entered. David stood on the other side of the room looking a little pale and his forehead seemed damp. She resisted the urge to rush to him and place a hand on his fevered brow. “You’re sweating. Are you sick?”

  “No. Of course not, I’m fine. I was outside and it’s a scorcher.”

  “That’s good.” They stared at each other across the huge span of the suite, across the enormous bed and the massive bathtub. Memories of the night before rushed at her, and she felt heat begin to flood her body. All the way here, she’d been debating whether she’d say yes if he’d asked her here for a prelunch quickie. Technically, they could still have sex without breaking the amended rule, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Now that she saw him she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist, but ironically, he didn’t look like a guy bent on seducing a woman. He was as far away from her as he could get without actually going outside.

  “Igotyouaring,” he said.

  “Pardon?” Maybe he was sick. He wasn’t even making sense.

  “I got you a ring.” He blurted out the words, still a little too quickly, so she had to work it out in her head before understanding him.

  “A ring.”

  “Seems more authentic.”

  He tossed a jewelry box at her like he was pitching softball and she caught the black velvet square in midair.

  “What kind of ring?” But she had a sinking feeling that she knew.

  “Engagementring.”

  “I see. Should I open it?”

  He nodded. Still looking green.

  She eased open the black velvet box and her mouth opened in an “oh,” even though no sound came out. “David,” she said, “it’s beautiful.”

  Even though she’d known what was in the box, catching the sparkle and fire of a “will you marry me?” type ring, presented by the man she’d fantasized about during her prime fantasy years, was a little overwhelming.

  And it was exactly the ring she’d have chosen. Square cut, the large, incredibly clear diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds was exquisite.

  “If you don’t like it, you can change it, obviously.”

  She glanced up, seeing all his fear and all the reasons why he was still single and likely to remain that way. “But I won’t be keeping it.”

  “Sure you can keep it.” He grinned weakly. “You just can’t keep me.”

  As if she’d want an infantile boy-man who still played tricks on his sister and assumed he could lie his way into a promotion and who wouldn’t know a woman who was the best thing that ever happened to him even if he was engaged to her.

  “Should I put it on?”

  He took a step back, bumping into the French doors.

  “Yeah. Piers helped me pick it out and you can bet they’ll all be pouncing on you to see it.”

  She blinked. “Your boss helped you choose an engagement ring?”

  “I know! Honestly, this used to be a kick-ass company, now it’s like a sorority.”

  She removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand, trying hard not to imagine what it would be like if this were real. If David was on bended knee offering her his heart and a lifetime together.

  She held her hand out, glad she’d sprung for a manicure before coming away on this weekend, and admired the flash and sparkle. “It’s really beautiful.”

  She fished in her bag and brought out a flat box. “Strangely enough, I have a nonengagement present for you, too.” She held out her hand with the package, then the humor of the situation struck her, him standing close to the French doors so he could make a quick exit, tossing the ring across the room at her.

  “You’ll have to walk over here if you want it.”

  “Right. Sorry.” He came over and took the box. Opened it. Glanced up and there was something warm and sweet in
his expression. “A tie. You got me a tie.”

  “This is the tie of an up-and-coming vice president,” she told him. “It’s youthful yet powerful.”

  “I’ll wear it tomorrow to work. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for the ring.”

  She thought he might kiss her, could all but see the notion spinning in his head, but he didn’t. He took the tie box and zipped it into his suitcase.

  “We should probably go down for lunch.”

  “Yes, we should.”

  He gestured and she walked ahead of him, turning just before she reached the door. “Oh, David?”

  “Yeah?”

  “A piece of advice. If you ever get engaged for real? You might want to work on your technique.”

  And with the friendliest smile she could muster, she preceded him out of the room.

  14

  WHAT AM I DOING HERE? Sarah wondered, astonished at herself for even showing up. Sunday afternoon, her only real day off, and here she was with a bunch of families, tourists speaking every language on earth and animals, also from every corner of earth. All week she’d scoffed at the very notion that she, an intelligent, educated, sophisticated professional woman would be seen at such a place.

  I’ll meet you at the orangutan exhibit, he’d written.

  She was having her first date with a man who’d excited her on both a deeply personal and an intellectual level. And she was having it at the zoo.

  What was she thinking? She couldn’t even believe she was here.

  As she paid for admission, she wondered when she’d last been here, and couldn’t remember. What if she got to the orangutan habitat and couldn’t recognize him?

  Horrified at the entire situation, she grabbed a map and found the meeting spot.

  There was only one man there.

  And he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at a shaggy, brown, overgrown monkey as though it were his son, with fondness and a sort of parental pride.

  He was the right age, early thirties, definitely looked like a man who rode a bike all the time since he carried a soft-sided pack and had a hard-bodied outdoorsy look about him. Monkey man was so not her type.

  She took a step back, thought she’d quietly head out of here when the man turned. “Sarah?” he asked.

  What was she going to do, lie?

  She gulped. Nodded.

  He smiled at her. He had brownish-blond hair that was bleached to straw from the sunshine. He was taller than she’d imagined, over six feet, and he had eyes so clear and blue you’d think he’d never seen anything unpleasant in his life.

  Considering this was a first date, he hadn’t knocked himself out in the wardrobe department. He wore biking shorts and a T-shirt. If he’d combed his hair in recent history, there was no evidence of it.

  “It’s great to meet you at last. I’m Mike.”

  Not knowing what else to do, she stuck out her hand, and, after looking at her outstretched palm for a moment, he shook it. He had strong, tough hands. She could feel the calluses on his palms when he touched her. “Hi.” Then, as he studied the expression on her face, his eyes began to twinkle. “Not the place your dates usually take you, huh?”

  Since she’d paid for her own ticket he could hardly be said to have “taken her” anywhere, but she kept her mouth shut.

  “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  And reluctantly she moved to his side, mentally preparing a whole list of reasons why she had to leave, and soon.

  “See this guy?” He pointed to a mangy-looking creature currently engaged in scratching his privates. “That’s Mike Junior.”

  Oh, good. She was on a date with a lunatic. Excellent. And, based on her track record, exactly what she should have expected. “Mike Junior? Your son?”

  He laughed, as though they were sharing the joke instead of him being one. “Yep. I adopted him.”

  Already she was too irritated to be polite. “Is there some medication you forgot to take this morning?”

  “No.” He still seemed to be amused by her for some reason. “I’m aware he’s not my biological kid. It’s the adopt-an-animal program. Haven’t you heard of it?”

  Her blank look obviously answered for her.

  “It’s a charity thing. You pay to help feed an animal.” He shrugged. “I’m not a big zoo fan, but I like the conservation program so I got involved. Mike Junior is a Sumatran orangutan and my adopted zoo animal. I like to visit on a regular basis, not that he appreciates me or anything. But he’s a teenager, what can you expect?”

  He was right. What had she expected? Someone normal? She’d e-mailed a stranger, told him things she’d never told another living soul. Of course he’d turned out to be a monumental wacko.

  The gaze he turned on her was surprisingly sympathetic. “You think I’m deranged, don’t you?”

  She’d been honest with him on e-mail, and wasn’t about to lie now she’d met him in person. “A little.”

  “Come on. Let’s continue with our date. Maybe I’ll grow on you.”

  “Like lice on Mike?”

  He laughed. “Like a new idea, an acquired taste, an understanding of music.”

  “I’m tone-deaf.”

  He shook his head at her. “You’re not this difficult on e-mail.”

  “Actually, I am, but I use the delete key a lot.” She made a wry face. “Maybe we should have brought our computers with us. We could have edited ourselves before speaking. Would have been easier.”

  Still, she allowed him to guide her deeper into the zoo. And, after looking at birds and reptiles and endangered animals from all over the world, she found herself relaxing and, strangely, beginning to enjoy her day.

  Yeah, the kids were noisy, but they were excited, too. Sure, it was hot, and sometimes there were smells she really could have done without, but she’d never seen a lot of these animals before, not the rare shy ones, like the blue-eyed black lemur from Madagascar who stared at her with his huge marblelike eyes from the safety of a tree branch, looking so cute she wanted to tuck him into her pocket and take him home.

  Or the birds who lived around the lake in the middle of the zoo.

  “I guessed from your stories about your cat that you’re an animal lover.”

  “One cat. Clarence. He was a stray. I’m usually more into history than zoology.”

  “Ah, but this is a historical zoo. Ben Franklin founded it, you know. It’s the oldest zoo in North America.”

  She had to laugh. “Points to you.”

  “I brought a picnic,” he said.

  She stared at him in shock. A family of Russians passed them, jabbering excitedly. “You did?”

  “I did.” He glanced at her. “When was the last time you went on a picnic?”

  She thought back. And back. And further back still. “I must have been a kid last time I went on a picnic. How weird is that? It’s not like I intended not to eat a meal outside on a blanket, it simply didn’t happen.”

  “I guessed right again, then.”

  He found them a spot on the grass, and from out of his battered pack he produced an old threadbare beach towel to sit on, sandwiches so inexpertly wrapped she assumed he’d made them himself, cheese, crackers, apples and soft drinks.

  Not exactly the champagne and strawberries and gourmet fare she somehow associated with a picnic, complete with a fancy straw basket, checkered cloth and cutlery, but it was fun to sit down outside and munch sandwiches. Casual and easy so a person could enjoy eating in the great outdoors with a minimum of fuss.

  “What kind of sandwiches?” she asked when he offered her a packet.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I made ham and cheese and peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Peanut butter and jelly?” What were they, eight years old?

  “It’s what I had in the house. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you ate meat. Wouldn’t want you starving.”

  He’d gone to a lot of trouble and there was something endeari
ng about a man who brought a PB&J to a grown woman on their first date. “I’ll have one of each,” she said. On impulse, she removed her shoes for the pleasure of brushing her feet over the grass. Even though it was midsummer, her legs and feet were pale, and not because she religiously applied sunscreen, but because she was working so much she rarely saw the sun. She’d even had to run out to Banana Republic for some new shorts when she couldn’t find any but an ancient pair of cutoffs at home. Now she realized the cutoffs would have been perfect with her current date.

  He passed her a soda and for a few minutes they occupied themselves with unwrapping sandwiches and opening soft drinks. It was the oddest experience to be a stranger to someone who knew her so well. She needed to connect to the online person, so she said, “Tell me more about your new yoga studio.”

  He’d explained on e-mail that he was going to be teaching at a new place. They’d talked about a lot of things but the yoga studio seemed the most impersonal, the most like get-to-know-you chitchat.

  “It’s going to be good, I think. Location’s right, plenty of stressed-out people who need to slow down, reconnect with their bodies and spirits.” He stopped to swig from his can of soda. “You should come.”

  “Because I’m stressed out and need to reconnect with my body and spirit?”

  “Maybe. But mostly so I can see you again.”

  Incredibly, she realized she did want to see him again. She liked his easy way, his loose-limbed walk, the fact that he hadn’t dressed to impress her but he’d been thoughtful enough to pack a picnic. She was used to men in suits who took her to fancy restaurants and, if they could manage it, to bed. Guys who were as time-crunched as she. Not guys who showed up in biking shorts and treated her to lunch on the grass. Now that she was used to him, she even liked that he’d adopted a teenage monkey.