[Anthology] A Clean Fake Marriage Romance Collection

by Victorine E. Lieske

  “That’s an interesting way to clean a shower,” a deep voice said.

  Tara found the handle and cranked it, shutting off the water. She turned to find Rick standing on the other side of the glass. Heat rose to her cheeks as water dripped from the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun, her now-wet uniform sticking to her body. She shoved the bucket in front of her so Rick wouldn’t get a better view than she wanted. “Sorry,” she said, unsure of what else to do.

  He chuckled, his smile making her breath catch. He opened the shower door and motioned for her to exit. His sandy-blonde hair was styled to look like he’d just gotten out of bed. It was the sexy mussed-up look. He was wearing a t-shirt that accentuated his muscular build, and jeans that hugged him just right. The term “movie star” didn’t do him justice. And she just stood there, staring like an idiot.

  “You can come out. I really don’t think you meant to take a shower with your clothes on.”

  She shook her head, stepping onto the mat. “No.” She looked at the bucket as if that explained everything.

  He held out his hand and she stared at it, not comprehending what he wanted.

  “Give it to me. I’ll fill it. You can dry off with a towel.” He motioned to the cabinet.

  Great. Now she looked like an even bigger idiot. She handed him the bucket and grabbed a towel. Rick walked over to the tub and stuck the bucket under the faucet. “You’re new here.”

  She nodded, her heart pounding so fast that she was unable to string together a few simple words to form a sentence.

  He finished at the tub and gave her the handle. “You’re doing great,” he said as he left, a smile in his voice.

  Perfect. Just how she wanted the day to go. She patted her hair with the towel, wondering how many more ways she could find to look like a moron in front of Rick Shade.

  TARA ARRIVED AT WORK the next day, determined to blend into the background. She was the maid; she needed to do her job and not draw attention to herself. If she didn’t mess up, maybe she could earn enough to pay off all the legal fees she’d accrued. Bobby had dragged things out in court, and now she owed way more than the child support checks he was forced to send would cover. He was a class-act jerk. Too bad she hadn’t seen that side of him until after they’d married. Or maybe his sudden fame made him that way. She probably would never know for sure.

  Greta, who was in charge of the staff, waved her over. She was a thin woman with an eye for details, who managed the staff with precision. “We’re short on kitchen staff today. I’ll need you to start there.”

  “Okay.” Tara walked down the hall to the kitchen.

  She walked in and almost gasped. State-of-the-art everything. Three ovens. Two stovetops. Marble counters that wrapped around three sides of the room with an island in the middle. Eliza, the head chef, smiled in relief when she entered. “Good. You’re here. Take this into the parlor.” She shoved a tray into Tara’s hands. “The one on the left is for Rick. I’ve got to get these cream puffs out of the oven or they’ll burn.”

  Tara peered down at the two coffee mugs. “Where is the parlor?” She’d mostly spent the week cleaning the rooms upstairs.

  “First room off the front entrance. You’d better hurry. Rick doesn’t like to wait.” Eliza shooed her out the door.

  Perfect. She picked the direction that made the most sense and started down the hallway. She passed by a dining hall, a library, and a room with a bunch of swords on the walls before she heard male voices.

  As she neared, she couldn’t help but overhear them.

  “I don’t care what anybody says. I’m not going to spend one minute alone in a room with that harpy, much less announce an engagement.” The smooth voice was unmistakable. Rick.

  Another male voice answered. “They’re giving the part to Zac Efron because of this last stunt you pulled. The story was front-page news.”

  Tara slowed. She wasn’t exactly eavesdropping. She was just making sure the coffee didn’t spill on the tray.

  “No one reads the tabloids.”

  “The L.A. Times is not a tabloid.” The sound of a newspaper slapping onto a table carried out into the hall.

  Tara entered the room. Rick was sitting in a wingback leather chair, draped over it like it was the most comfortable place he could be. She tried to not look at him. He had a way of sucking all the air out of her lungs. And he was even more gorgeous today. Dang, she was looking.

  His gaze connected with hers and he winked. Heat crept up her neck. Busted. She stepped further into the room and couldn’t help but notice the newspaper headline on the coffee table. Rick Shade caught skinny dipping. The article included a blurry photo.

  A snort came out of her before she had the chance to pull herself together. Both men stared at her, and she sobered. “Excuse me,” she said.

  Rick’s lips twitched.

  She set the tray down on the server against the wall. Super. She’d messed up again. If her training had drilled anything into her head, it was that she was supposed to be invisible and never speak unless spoken to. Why couldn’t she do a simple job? She needed to give them the coffee and get out of there.

  “Phil, I know you’re talking as my manager, but I’m not marrying Vikki Castle. Not even if it saves my career. Have you spent any time with her? She’s horrible. All she talks about is her hair and how many pairs of shoes she has.”

  Did movie stars really marry who they thought would boost their career? She mentally chastised herself for not concentrating on her job. She looked down at the cups. Which one was she supposed to give Rick? Left or right? A bead of sweat broke out on her forehead.

  “You wouldn’t have to stay married for long. Maybe a year. Showing the public you’re in a committed relationship would be good.”

  Tara picked up the mugs and turned toward Rick. She had a fifty-fifty chance to get it right. She walked toward him.

  He smirked. “I’d rather marry her.” He pointed at Tara.

  Startled, she tripped over her own feet and coffee spilled on Rick’s lap. He jumped up from the chair and took the mugs from her.

  “Oh! I’m sorry!” She grabbed a napkin from the accent table and started dabbing at the coffee before realizing that probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing she could do. She slowly backed up, twisting the napkin in her hands. “Sorry,” she said again.

  “Marry the maid?” Phil laughed, ignoring the spill. “That could actually bring you great press.”

  Rick stared at her, one eyebrow raised, his intense gaze penetrating through her.

  Crud. She was so fired. Worse than fired. He’d probably charge her for ruining his million-dollar jeans. She’d walk away from this job owing him money.

  Phil stood and came toward her. “She has pretty eyes.”

  Rick set the coffee mugs down on the table and nodded. “We could do something else with her hair.”

  Her hand flew to her bun. What was wrong with her hair? And why were they talking like she wasn’t even in the room?

  “She has a nice hometown look,” Phil said. “The everyday housewife will love that.”

  Housewife? Were these guys insane? Tara bit her cheek to stop herself from giving them a piece of her mind.

  Rick walked around her like she was a quarter horse he was thinking about buying. “This could make national news.” He finally spoke to her. “You’re Tara, right?”

  Wait, Rick knew her name? The situation was too ludicrous to be believable. Her gaze bounced between the two men. “You’re a few clowns short of a circus. I’m being punked, right? Where’s the camera?”

  “Her Midwestern accent is quite endearing,” Phil said.

  Rick’s lips curled up in a small smile. “It is.” He focused on her. His gaze flitted to her hands. “Are you single?”

  Surely they weren’t serious about her marrying Rick Shade. That was crazy, and she had to bite her tongue to not tell them both off. She needed this job. “Yes, but you don’t want me to be a part of your pu
blicity stunt. I have a four-year-old daughter.”

  Phil clapped his hands together. “That’s great! We can get the kid in the photos. The public will eat it up. Every single mother out there will be swooning.”

  Rick frowned. “I don’t know. A kid would complicate things.”

  Finally someone was seeing reason. She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, a big complication. So, you see, it would never work.”

  “The daughter would touch the hearts of America,” Phil said. “Trust me.”

  Rick shook his head. “No. I don’t want to do it if there’s a kid involved.” He sat back down on his chair and wiped at his jeans where she’d spilled the coffee. “It was an interesting idea, but it won’t work.”

  Phil got a desperate look in his eye. “It will work! It has to. You need to do this.”

  Tara blurted out, “I agree with Rick.” They ignored her.

  Rick scowled at Phil. “I said no.” He turned his gaze on Tara. “It won’t work.”

  She nodded at him and left the room. What had happened to everyone? They were crazy. Thank heavens Rick wasn’t insisting on marrying her. That would have been a nightmare.

  Chapter 2

  Two weeks later, the call came that Rick hadn’t gotten the lead role in the live-action remake of Aladdin. He was counting on that role. The bitter taste of failure filled his mouth. “What did they say?” he asked, gripping his cell phone, and pacing his office.

  Phil sighed. “They liked your audition, but didn’t think you were the right fit, which basically means your reputation killed the deal.”

  “What?”

  “I’m telling you, you’ve got to stop going out and partying every night. No one wants to hire someone unstable.”

  Rick cursed under his breath. He needed this. It had been months since he had any kind of job. He had money, but he wasn’t ready to become a has-been. He needed to stay in the public eye. Acting was his passion. His true love. It was all he had left after—

  He stopped short. He didn’t want to think about Scarlett. “All right, all right. What if I married the maid? Would that help me get the part?”

  Phil was silent for a few seconds. “I think it’s a good idea, but only if you start acting like a married man.”

  Keep a low profile for a while? He could handle that. “Okay.”

  “That means you’ve got to give up the booze.”

  Rick stopped, heat rising to his face. “Why? I’m not a drunk.”

  “Prove it. Become a family man. Clean up your act. They don’t want to hire some party boy.”

  Rick ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. Party boy. Sure, he’d made some mistakes, but he wasn’t really like that. Admittedly, he hadn’t done much to contradict his bad reputation.

  He needed this publicity stunt. Barely thirty and his career was sliding down the toilet. “Fine.” He’d stay home and become boring.

  “Go talk to the maid. Pay her whatever you can to convince her to marry you for a year. Then after that you can get a quiet divorce. Maybe we can say she cheated on you. Play the sympathy card.”

  “Good idea. Okay. I’ll get her to agree to it.” Women usually responded well to him when he turned on the charm. It shouldn’t be too hard.

  Rick hung up the phone and stalked down the hallway toward Greta’s office, where he found her behind the desk. He folded his arms and cracked a smile. “Where’s the new girl?”

  Greta lifted an eyebrow. “Tara?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s in the second guest bathroom.”

  He pointed at her and grinned. “Perfect. Oh, and could you have Carter pull the car around front and wait for me there?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  He took the stairs two at a time and turned down the hall toward the guest bedrooms. He wasn’t in love with the idea of marrying for publicity, but he was desperate; and besides, people got married for stupid reasons all the time. It wasn’t like he was committing his life to her. It was just a year. He’d do it to get the next big part. It had the potential to put life back into his career.

  All his guest bedrooms were large, with their own attached bathrooms. He hadn’t spared any expense. The bathroom was equipped with a Jacuzzi, a shower, built-in cabinets, and a floor-length mirror. He found Tara bent over, scrubbing the toilet. “Hey,” he said, rocking back on his heels.

  She swiveled around. “Oh! You scared me.” She stood there, her hand on her heart, the other holding a dripping scrub brush. Her black and white uniform hugged her curves, and he took a second to admire them.

  Her dark hair was pulled up into that silly bun again, but several tendrils had escaped, coming down to frame her face. She was definitely pretty, and perhaps a bit younger than he’d originally suspected. Maybe mid-twenties. Her skin was smooth, and he wondered what it would feel like to touch it. She’d tug at America’s hearts.

  “Do you need me to work on another room, sir?” Her gaze was skittish, bouncing around but never really settling on him.

  “No. I’d like to talk to you.”

  She frowned, which made her look even more appealing for some reason. “Am I fired?”

  He chuckled. “No, don’t worry. It’s nothing like that.” He walked toward her and took the scrub brush from her hand. “I just want to talk.”

  She nodded, still not looking at him. “Okay, sir.”

  Man, she was uptight. She needed to relax. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir.’” He tossed the brush into the bin and put his arm around her. She stiffened, and he tried not to pay attention. “Let’s go eat lunch.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t think...”

  “Don’t think. Just come with me.” He gave her his best sexy grin and herded her out of the guest bathroom. If he laid it on thick enough, she’d be putty in his hands.

  She stopped. “I’ve been cleaning toilets.”

  “Then wash up.” He waved to the bathroom. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Her frown deepened, but she did as he said. Then he ushered her through the house and out the front where the driver had the limo waiting. Carter opened the door and motioned for her to go in. She hesitated a moment, then slid in. He climbed in after her.

  Going out in public with her would be good. He could get some photos of them together with her in her uniform and get some publicity that way. Start the rumor mill going.

  “Where would you like to go, sir?” Carter asked.

  Rick put his arm on the back of the seat. “Café Med.” There was sure to be paparazzi hanging around.

  Tara sat twisting her hands together, back stiff, so he decided to put her at ease. “How do you like working for Greta? Has she been nice to you?”

  “She’s been fine.” Tara didn’t look at him.

  “Have you enjoyed working at the house?”

  Finally, she turned to him, but he didn’t expect the flat look. “Are you asking me if I enjoy cleaning your bathrooms?” Her eyes grew wide and she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said under her hand. “I didn’t mean that.”

  Rick found himself laughing, which surprised him. Women rarely made him truly laugh. “Yes, you did.”

  “I’m sorry. My mouth sometimes gets me into trouble. I love my job and really want to keep it.” She stared down at her hands again, which went back to twisting and wringing.

  “I’m not going to fire you. In fact, I want to give you a raise.”

  She didn’t look at him.

  He tried again. “And you wouldn’t have to clean anymore.” He leaned closer to her, giving her his best Hollywood grin.

  “I don’t want to marry you,” she blurted.

  “Ouch.” He removed his arm from behind her on the seat.

  She turned her gaze to him. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to be a part of your publicity stunt. I have a daughter—”

  “I know.” And he wasn’t too thrilled about it either. But he was kind of st
uck. “It’ll be fine. All she’ll need to do is pose for a few photo shoots. The rest of the time, we can keep her out of the media’s eye.”

  Tara swallowed, her face draining of color. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  What was wrong with her? There were a million girls out there who would die to be seen with him in public. He met dozens each night. Why was this one being so stubborn? He decided to change tactics. “I can make it financially worth your while.”

  She paused, and he thought maybe he’d hit on something, so he continued. “I’m willing to pay you for your time.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “No, I can’t—”

  “A hundred thousand dollars,” he blurted, before he had the chance to think about it.

  Her eyes grew wide and she went very still. “What?” she whispered.

  He hadn’t meant to say that much, but for some reason getting her to say yes had become a challenge, and he never backed down from a challenge. He was not used to losing. “A hundred thousand. And all you have to do is marry me.”

  Her gaze lifted to his, and he was stunned by the beauty in her dark brown eyes. “What happens if you don’t get the part?”

  “If you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, you’ll still get the hundred thousand.”

  She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could see the war going on behind her eyes. Just when he thought she was going to say yes, she shook her head.

  “Stop.” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer yet. Let’s eat lunch, and you can think about it.” The car turned onto Sunset Boulevard. They’d be there in a minute.

  “Okay.”

  When they arrived, he got out of the car and took her hand to help her onto the sidewalk. As he suspected, paparazzi lined the walk and cameras flashed. Tara shielded her face. “It’s okay,” he said in her ear, as he put his arm around her. “Just ignore them.”