by Rue Allyn
“Do you trust me?” Michael’s voice came low and husky in her ear.
The immense feel of him behind her scattered her brain, but she managed a bare nod. “Yes.”
He looked up at the woman behind the counter. “I’m thinking something a little less . . . traditional.”
His heat left her back as he stepped away from her. He took her hand instead, threading their fingers, and pulled her with him as he moved down the counter. Three display cases away, he stopped again and tapped the glass with his index finger. “I’m thinking something more like this.”
“An excellent choice, Mr. Brant.” The woman smiled and reached into the display case to pull out a beautiful emerald ring. It was set in white gold, a single cushion-cut solitaire surrounded by diamonds. Simple but stunning.
He took the ring and turned to her, slipping it onto her finger. Something electric zipped between them. His gaze lifted to hers. His dark eyes smoldered but held a hint of something that made her hands tremble. Something entirely too real.
This charade was taking its toll on her sanity, because if she were honest with herself, she knew what she wanted to see in those eyes. She was already in way over her head. Halfway to falling in love with him. Looking into those eyes, she couldn’t think of one good reason why that was such a bad thing.
She glanced at the ring, unable to keep from shaking. “It’s beautiful.”
“It matches her eyes.” The consultant flashed the kind of delighted smile that told Cat she never got bored helping couples choose the perfect engagement ring, even though she must have done so hundreds of times.
Michael smiled as well, a knowing, satisfied look in his eyes. “Exactly.”
He had her try on several others, but in the end, they went with the emerald ring.
They stood on the sidewalk outside her father’s shop an hour later. Awkwardness rolled between them. Michael stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, and Cat fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. Neither said anything for a long moment.
Getting the ring had been meant only to set the stage, to make it more believable when they told their families. The act of choosing, though, shifted the air between them. Intensity glimmered back at her from the depths of his eyes, as if he dared her to see the emotion, to deny its existence. Or couldn’t quite deny it himself. One that told her very clearly she hadn’t been alone in her thoughts inside that store. He’d noticed it too, the pull of intimacy between them.
“There’s a reason I wanted a non-traditional ring.” He pulled his hands from his pockets, shrugged out of his jacket, and held it open for her. “When this is over, I’d like you to keep it.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
His hands were a gentle weight on her shoulders as he stepped behind her and set his jacket on her. He enveloped her in his warmth and his scent, which felt an awful lot like he’d wrapped her in himself. “Consider it a token of appreciation.”
The tenderness in his voice slid around her, and she could only nod, floored by the gesture. Nobody had ever done anything like that for her before, given her something so . . . sentimental. It was what the gesture stood for that got her, however. When the phony engagement ended and they both went back to their lives, she’d have a keepsake, something to remember him by.
Their tender lovemaking that morning rolled through her mind, the way they’d clung to each other in the aftermath. They were forever linked now, and this ring only reinforced the notion. Some part of her was his, and she had a feeling it always would be.
When he left town, Michael would take a piece of her with him.
He smiled, breaking the spell of the moment. “Now for the hard part.”
She nodded, her stomach knotting. “Telling our parents.”
• • •
“You ready for this?”
Outside on the sidewalk in front of her father’s bookshop the following evening, Michael caught Cat around the waist and pulled her close. Told himself the gesture was for show, for the charade, but he knew damn well she was in his arms because he wanted her as close as he could get her. So far, since she’d moved into his place, he’d spent every night curled around her after making love to her until he was exhausted. He was more sated than he’d ever been in his life, and he hadn’t slept this good in years. He was drowning, and he knew it.
Cat’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I’ve never lied to my father before. I’ve never needed to. I’ve always told him everything.”
“Leave it to me.” He stroked his fingers over her chin, trying to control an almost desperate need to claim her mouth, then released her. He took her hand instead and led her into the shop. Her father was nowhere in sight, but the sound of shuffling coming from within the book stacks told him where he might find him.
Cat stopped at the front counter. “Dad?”
“Back here.” Her father’s head popped around a book stack toward the back of the store, a smile etched across his face. “Got a shipment of the new thriller that’s out.”
Cat’s fingers tightened around his, and she darted an unsure glance at him, her brow furrowed. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and bent his head so only she could hear. “Piece of cake.”
With a nod, she stepped forward, pulling him behind her as she made her way to the back of the shop. When she reached her father, her fingers tightened around his again, her chest rising as she drew in a deep breath.
“Dad, Michael and I have something to tell you.” The words tumbled from her mouth on a rapidly expelled breath.
Her father’s eyes darted from her to him and back again before he gave a hesitant nod. “Okay . . . ”
Her hand shook in his, and Michael stepped up behind her. He set a hand on her shoulder and pressed his body into her back, letting her know she wasn’t alone in this, then turned to address her father. “I’ve asked your daughter to marry me.”
Her father stood stunned for a moment, looking from her to him and back again. Then a slow grin broke across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they lit up. “Well I’ll be darned. My baby’s getting married.”
• • •
Ten minutes later, they again stood together on the sidewalk outside the bookshop. They were still touching, still holding hands. For the sake of the charade is what he told himself, because her father was behind the front counter inside. Except neither one of them made a move to disentangle.
Cat settled her hands against his chest. That look was back. The deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. Slightly bewildered and uncomfortable but mixed with tenderness and a touch of the inexplicable desire that rose so easily between them. The expression matched the exact emotions thrumming through him. “Thank you for helping.”
“You’re welcome.” He offered her a smile, stroked his hands over her back, hoping to divest them of the tension that spawned like a living, breathing entity between them. They were caught in a snare of their own making, like a fly in a spider’s web. Except he knew it was a sacrifice he’d gladly make for the time spent with her.
“I have to admit that was easier than I expected. He totally bought the story you gave him.”
He went with the story they’d discussed, that they met when he came back two years ago and had been in secret contact since, getting together again when he came back to town two weeks ago. Her father accepted the story, no questions asked.
Michael shook his head. “I’m afraid hard is going to be my father.” It was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to.
Her eyes searched his. “Are you two getting along any better?”
Michael shook his head. “Things are easier, but awkward. We don’t know how to relate to each other anymore. He wants me to move back home, but I’m not ready yet. If I’m being honest, I’m partly doing this for him. I think an engagement would make him happy. A middle road.”
He couldn’t stop seeing the tears in the old man’s eyes as he sat by
his bedside that morning. When they finally got past the hurtful words and years of too much distance, they’d found some peace between them. For the first time in his life, he understood his father’s position and felt heard in return.
“Just once in my life, I want to do something to give my father a reason to be proud of me. I want to repair a life of things done wrong.”
“You couldn’t have been that bad.”
There was a tease in her voice, and one corner of her mouth lifted, but the humor didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He cupped her chin in his palm and stroked his thumb over her skin. That right there was what he found so hard to resist about her. She had a gentle heart, and those soft eyes told him she understood his pain and attempted to soothe the wound.
“You’d be surprised how much a kid can rebel when he wants to. My father was a military man, very strict, and I hated it. Drinking, smoking, you name, I did it. Took Dad’s Mercedes out joyriding more than once before I was old enough to drive. Hell, it was a regular occurrence there for a while. Only got caught by Sheriff Dewitt for it twice, though.”
He winked, and she gave a quiet laugh, soft and breathy. Triumph expanded in his chest, and somehow he knew he’d make a fool of himself just so he could hear her laugh again.
“Hung around with the wrong crowd just because my father didn’t approve of them. Got into a couple of fights, got suspended from school for a week for one of them. Probably spent a good week’s worth of nights in jail for underage drinking. Ditched school, snuck out at night, the whole cliché.” He shook his head at the memories and offered a wry grin. “I was all-around rotten.”
“A reformed bad boy. Go figure. How in the world did that happen?”
This time her humor was genuine, and the tease in her voice made him grin. Looking at her, he knew. He was so far in over his head with her he couldn’t see the surface anymore.
He ought to be putting some firm distance between them, make up some reason why he couldn’t see her anymore, then bury himself in his work. The way he always did when a need to see someone went beyond the fling he intended it to be.
Except, he couldn’t leave her, didn’t want to leave her. The ring on her finger didn’t help any. It meant, for all intents and purposes, she was his. He liked it. Too much. A part of him had already claimed her.
“I grew up.” He leaned down, sipped at her mouth, murmuring against her lips. “Let’s go home. We have a few hours before we have to be at my parents’ and I can think of several ways to occupy the time.”
• • •
Several hours later, Cat stood in awe on the covered front porch of the Brants’ estate. Four stories high, the natural wood finish of the house gave the place the look of a cabin in the woods. Set on several acres, the house sat nestled amongst sky-high pine trees, with a long winding driveway lined by rows of neatly trimmed hedges. At least three of her father’s modest ranch-style houses would fit into this one, with lots of room to spare.
Despite its beauty, though, Cat felt out of place. Growing up, they scraped by most of the time on her mother’s meager salary as a waitress. This place was luxury beyond her comprehension. More house than she would even know what to do with.
Standing quietly beside her, Michael turned to her and slipped his hand into hers. “I think it’s only fair to warn you.”
Unease settled in her stomach, but she nodded. “Okay . . . ”
“My father’s a hard man. He doesn’t trust people, and he can be rather direct. He says what he means and means what he says. He’s going to put you through your paces.”
The false bravado she’d put on up until this point deflated, and she let her shoulders slump. A quiet, nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “Are you trying to make me nervous? ’Cause it’s working.”
He chuckled and shook his head, regret in his eyes. “Sorry, but I couldn’t just throw you to the wolves. Believe me, it’s easier to handle if you know what’s coming. Just try not to let him intimidate you.”
“Right.” She turned to stare at the dark front door and blew out a defeated puff of air. “Piece of cake.”
What on earth have I gotten myself into?
He gave a tug on her arm, pulling her gently to him. “You won’t be alone.” His voice came low in her ear, so close his breath teased her skin, sending goose bumps along her neck and down her spine. His words filled her with warmth, and his eyes burned with intensity. Somehow, the thought of his presence soothed her ragged nerves and set her at ease. She had a feeling she could get through anything as long as he was with her.
Her heart lurched at the thought. What was she doing?
Michael jerked his head in the direction of the door as he reached for the knob with one hand, keeping hold of her hand with the other. “Come on. If it helps any, my mother’s the complete opposite. Mom loves everybody. You’ll like her.”
Cat forced a smile. “Great.”
The comfort his words ought to give her didn’t come as she followed him inside the house.
Chapter Nine
Cat couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping open as Michael led her over the threshold and closed the door behind them. The interior of the house was every bit as large as it appeared from the outside and every bit as homey. The place sported cathedral ceilings, and everything from the walls to the tall beams holding up the ceiling structure were made of light colored oak wood, all of it polished to a shine.
What appeared to be a living room fanned out in front of them, the furniture overstuffed and done in earth tones. Along the back wall sat a stone fireplace, currently burning a beautiful, crackling fire. A gorgeous, carved wooden coffee table; lighted ceiling fans; strategically placed paintings with more natural, homey settings; area rugs to add pops of color. Everything gleamed, so clean and spotless it didn’t appear as if anybody lived here. It was exquisite. The place looked like it had jumped out of a magazine, and standing inside of it, she still felt out of place.
“You grew up here?” She couldn’t hide the awe in her voice.
Michael gave a quiet laugh beside her, no doubt because she stood with her mouth hanging open. “It’s something, isn’t it? Gabe and I used to play hide-and-seek when we were little. Would take me hours sometimes to find him. Wait ’til you see the backyard.”
“It’s so . . . clean.” She glanced at the gleaming top of the round coffee table in the center of the room. She’d bet money there weren’t any rings on that table, like the ones in her father’s house.
“My mother’s a fanatic. One of those women who thinks cleanliness is next to godliness. I’ll tell her you said that. She’ll love you.”
She let out a quiet laugh and turned. Michael watched her with soft eyes that instantly melted her nerves.
“It doesn’t suit you.” In worn jeans and a black leather jacket, he seemed every bit as out of place in this house as she felt.
“It’s beautiful, but it’s a bit much for my taste.” He shrugged. “Never could figure out why my parents needed four floors when we never used half the rooms.”
“You’re a simple man.” His words the night they met came back to her again.
He smiled, recognition flashing in his eyes. “Something like that.” He shrugged out of his jacket and left it on a hook by the door, then reached out and threaded their fingers. “Come on.”
He tugged her behind him as he moved toward a doorway on the left. The room itself came into view, but Michael stopped just shy of entering it. The family room, attached to the kitchen, spread out before them, every bit as large as the living room. Seated around more of the overstuffed leather furniture sat five people she assumed to be his family. Everyone seemed engaged in conversation. None of them noticed her and Michael.
Michael moved to stand behind her. One hand settled around her waist, holding her against him, as he leaned his head down beside her ear. His voice was a low, intimate hum that mesmerized her.
“I want to point everybody out before they realize w
e’re here and converge on you. That,” he pointed to a towering man holding a giggling toddler with pigtails, “is my brother, Gabe. The little girl is his daughter Mia. Sitting in front of him is his wife, Lilly. Gabe runs management for my father, but as you can see, Lilly’s pregnant. So for the time being, he’s running Roadie’s.”
Cat peered back at him. “So the bar does belong to your family.”
Michael smiled, warmth in his eyes. “Yeah. Been in our family for generations. Started out as an old saloon way back when, for gold miners. Dad hates the place, but Mom won’t let him sell it. She says it’s history.”
Cat turned back to the room. A dark-haired woman seated on the sofa held another slightly younger toddler. “Is that your mom, holding the little girl?”
Abby Brant looked different from the picture on the wall in his kitchen. Older, the lines in her face more pronounced. Her hair was longer and now held a touch of gray.
“Mm. Beware, she likes to hug.”
The tease in his voice made her smile, in spite of herself, but eased another knot in her stomach. “Thanks for the warning.”
Laughter rumbled out of him, soft and intimate. He leaned closer, his arm tightening around her. “The little girl on her lap is Amy. She’s two. Gabe and Lilly’s second. The man in the armchair on the left is my father.”
Remembering his warning, her stomach clenched, but she didn’t have time to ponder the thought for Michael continued his introductions.
“The formidable-looking woman arguing with him,” amusement and fondness laced his tone as he pointed to a white-haired woman who appeared to be in her mid-seventies, “is my grandmother. My father’s mother. She and my mother take turns cooking on Sundays. Tonight’s her turn.”
“You don’t have a cook?” Didn’t the wealthy all have cooks and maids and butlers?
“Well, normally my mother and grandmother wouldn’t dream of hiring one. My grandmother’s very traditional. Mom finally gave in a few years ago and hired Silvia, but they give her Sundays off. Dinner together as a family is a tradition.”