by Susan Meier
She wasn’t surprised it was easier to touch him when she knew it wasn’t real. Fake Lila could do any darned thing she wanted with no consequence. Real Lila knew how much was riding on this. She wanted to flatten her hands on his chest. To run them up to his collar so she could ease her fingers through the hair at his nape. Then she could easily pull his head down for a kiss.
That’s what she’d do if they were really engaged. That’s what she’d wanted to do since the day she’d met him.
That’s what she would do now.
She eased her palms along the smooth material of his jacket, enjoying the decadent richness of the fabric, but it still didn’t feel right. And she finally understood why. She was trying to take this relationship into reality because she could see he was getting feelings for her—but he didn’t know her. She’d already realized that until she told him the truth about her life, her childhood, he couldn’t really fall in love with her. She didn’t know why she was trying to seduce him now, without telling him.
She sucked in a breath, pulling her hands away. “There is something important I should tell you about me.”
His face changed. The fun-loving expression left and was replaced by a look that somehow combined seriousness and expectancy. He put his hands on her shoulders supportively. “I think I know what it is.”
That was the last thing she expected him to say. It confused her so much she said, “You do?”
He stiffened. “Yes. You’re pregnant.”
She had no idea there were levels of shock, but her head jangled with something so incomprehensible she might have created a new one.
“What? No! I’m not pregnant!” All thoughts of her mother and the horrible childhood she’d brought on herself fled. She swatted his upper arm. “What’s wrong with you? Why the hell would you think that?”
“When you said you didn’t drink, Nanna sort of jumped to conclusions.”
She gaped at him. “Nanna thought I was pregnant because I don’t drink?”
“Well, that and because she said you had a certain glow.”
If she had “a certain glow” it was because she was thrilled to be at his home, with him, just plain spending time with him.
She pulled her hands away from his and dropped her head into her palms. “Does your whole family think that?”
“No. Just Nanna.”
She glanced up sharply. “And you?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know what to think.”
“But you weren’t sure?”
“Well, you never tell me anything.”
And now she knew why. Real Lila absolutely, positively didn’t fit into his world. She was awkward and simple. She wouldn’t in a million years have thought his family would assume she was pregnant because she didn’t drink. She wasn’t a sophisticated thinker. She’d been foolish to even consider she belonged here. She had no place with these people.
And she was done embarrassing herself. She most certainly wouldn’t tell him the truth about her life now. From here on out, she would only be Fake Lila.
Spotting Riccardo walking toward them, Lila nudged her head to the right so Mitch would look over and see him.
As he got closer, Mitch said, “Hey, what’s up?”
Riccardo didn’t reply until he was almost on top of them, then he lowered his voice. “I had a conversation with Julia tonight. I’m pretty sure she’s onto you.”
Glad to be thinking of anything other than how Mitch’s family thought she was pregnant, she shifted back into her role as his coconspirator. “I told you.”
“Sí. You did.” He caught her gaze, his eyes filled with remorse, but he turned to face Riccardo. “So what do we do?”
“You’re going to have to start looking a little more like two people who want to get married.”
Mitch’s gaze crawled back to hers. She swore he was silently seeking forgiveness for thinking she was pregnant. But she was the one who was sorry. If she hadn’t wanted a real shot with him and hadn’t considered telling him the truth about herself, none of this awkwardness would have happened.
Including the fact that Julia wouldn’t be onto them. Fake Lila was a much better fiancée choice for Mitch than Real Lila.
Riccardo said, “If it somehow gets out that your engagement is fake, this charade won’t have saved your butt. It will have made matters worse.”
Mitch sighed. “No kidding. Lila and I need to go back to the apartment and regroup. Luckily, the show’s over for tonight.” He glanced around. “Half the guests have gone home.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on. Let’s say good-night to our hosts, get the limo and go.”
She took his hand, brightened her smile, leaned into his arm.
Fake Lila was alive and well and ready to take over. And Real Lila wasn’t coming out again—at all—unless she was alone in her bedroom. Because of trying to be herself, she’d almost ruined this whole damned charade.
They found Julia and Alonzo. Alonzo kissed Lila’s cheek, while Mitch kissed Julia’s cheek.
“Thank you for coming.”
Lila smiled fondly at Julia. “Thank you for having us. It was a lovely party. Your parents have a beautiful home.” Then she gazed lovingly at Mitch, snuggled into his arm. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
Mitch shook Alonzo’s hand. He said, “We’ll see you tomorrow,” and they walked around to the front of the house to the limo.
The moon had risen to a glorious height and cast a heavenly glow on everything. Even the grapevines gleamed surreally, and Lila realized it was all so perfect, so beautiful that she should have immediately recognized she didn’t belong in this place with this family. From here on out, every time she looked at the perfection around her, every time she slid into a limo, or put on clothes she couldn’t afford in her real life, it would fortify her resolve to stay in character and protect herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MITCH HELPED HER into the back seat of the limo, then climbed in behind her. She’d thrown him for a loop when she’d said she had to tell him something about herself. It was clearly so difficult for her that he’d tried to save her some agony and incorrectly guessed she was pregnant. But that didn’t mean the conversation was over. He needed to know her problem, her secret, so he could figure out how to keep her in his employ and how he could help her. Now that he had his head on straight about not getting involved with her, it would be much easier.
“Let’s go back to talking about what we were talking about before Riccardo came over.”
She smoothed the skirt of her pretty yellow dress. “It’s not important.”
“Really? Because the very serious look on your face told me that it was. Plus, you said it was something you had to tell me.”
She laughed and batted a hand. Her fake fiancée persona fully in place, she casually said, “I was just going to say I should tell you a couple of stories about my roommates that would help us to continue to be more familiar with each other so there’ll be no more slipups.”
His heart twisted a bit. He’d embarrassed her so much by asking if she was pregnant that she wasn’t going to tell him. No matter how much he pushed. In fact, pushing might be the worst thing to do. Which meant the best thing to do would be to back off until he found another time to bring it up. Maybe after a day or two she’d get comfortable with him again and be able to open up.
Tabling the conversation for the moment, he relaxed on the limo seat. “Okay. Have at it.”
She started with a story about one of her roommates illegally keeping a cat in her room that made him laugh. Then she moved on to a story about pooling their money once a week to get one order of Chinese takeout that they split, and he felt like an idiot.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that you needed more money?”
“Because I checked
around. My salary is average for what I do for you. If I want more money, I need to be doing more important things. Things I know how to do. But you don’t need.”
He thought about that. “Is that why you want another job? To get to do those more important tasks?”
“Yes.” She glanced down at her dress again.
That was something she did when what she said was difficult for her—or when she was telling him only half the truth. His heart softened again. “You want your job to be challenging?”
She peered over at him. “Who doesn’t?”
There was more. He knew there was more, but he could also see she wasn’t going to spill it. If he really wanted to help her, he had to work with what he had. “Riccardo and I could probably create a new job for you. Something that wouldn’t just be more challenging, it would also pay enough that you could get your own apartment.”
She shook her head. “If you’d created a new job on your own because you needed someone, that would have been great. Doing it now, it would feel like charity.”
Frustration rose in him and he sat up. “You want a more challenging job that could pay more. Riccardo and I could probably make one for you, but you won’t take it because it would be charity?”
“Wouldn’t it?”
“No! It would be more or less like you making us aware of a need and us filling it.”
“The need is mine. Otherwise you would have already created the job.”
“Your circular logic is going to explode my brain one of these days.”
She laughed. “Aren’t you glad we never talked before this?”
“No. I’m thinking that if we’d talked before this I’d have been more ready.”
“You have to take the heat for that one.”
That made his eyes narrow. “Why me? Why not you? Why couldn’t you have come into the office and said, ‘Hey, Mitch, how was your weekend?’”
“I did.”
That surprised him. “You did?”
“Every Monday morning for a year. You’d always answer ‘fine’ without looking up from whatever you were reading.”
“Yeah, well, every Monday morning, we also get weekend sales reports. So I was preoccupied.”
“So you take the blame.”
He put his fingers on his temples to stop the throbbing that had begun there. Luckily, the lane for Ochoa Vineyards came into view.
They got out of the limo, stepping onto the grounds for his family home where anyone could be milling about, meaning the conversation was over until they got behind the closed doors of his apartment. They climbed the steps. He unlocked the door and they walked into the sitting room.
He stopped.
He’d kissed her here the night before. She’d told him that she wanted to think things through, that she wasn’t ready, and tonight she’d probably been about to tell him why and he’d blown it by asking her if she was pregnant.
She headed directly to her room, but she paused. Facing him, she politely said, “Good night.”
But she didn’t wait for him to return her good-night. She all but raced to the open door and scurried to get herself behind it.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he strode toward his bedroom. The weirdest sensation enveloped him. Something like a pounding need. She’d been two seconds away from telling him something very serious and very important, and trying to help her, he’d rushed in, making a guess that was wrong. His usual arrogance had cost him a chance, but by God he was not letting this drop. No matter what hoop he had to jump through, she would tell him.
* * *
“How were your meetings today?”
Lila stepped out of her bedroom talking. Because of more Ochoa Wines business, she hadn’t seen Mitch all day and had enjoyed an afternoon by the pool with Nanna, who was incredibly apologetic for thinking Lila was pregnant.
Mitch’s grandmother was also hosting a private family dinner that night. Careful now that Julia was clearly watching them, Lila had once again asked Nanna what she should wear, and Nanna had suggested a flirty floral skirt and white tank top because the evening was supposed to be casual. Family being family. Not socializing.
Resigned to going back to being Fake Lila and fairly pleased with the way she looked in the happy skirt, she smiled at Mitch. “I almost felt guilty sitting by the pool for hours knowing you were working.”
He walked to the apartment door. “Don’t. It’s good for you to keep Nanna company. Besides, I love my job.”
Something about the way he said that struck her oddly. He opened the door for her and she stepped out into the small hallway.
“I know you love your job.”
He motioned for her to go down the stairs. “I created my job. I searched around, looking for something I loved, something that made me as much money as I wanted, and I didn’t stop until I found it.”
Walking down the steps, she frowned. She hadn’t missed the way he’d emphasized the word created. Obviously, he wasn’t going to drop last night’s conversation, but that didn’t mean she had to take the bait. “Well, you did great figuring it all out.”
At the bottom of the steps, he stopped her before she reached the door. “Sí. I did. And I don’t ever pretend that I’m not proud of myself.”
Still not taking the bait. “You should be.”
“So last night I also realized that that thing you almost told me yesterday—when I stupidly asked you if you were pregnant—is probably part of the reason you won’t let me create a job for you.”
Wow. He might be a little slower than Nanna, but he was pretty damned perceptive too. Still, she’d hit this wall the night before. She was not in the same league as these people. No matter how much she liked Mitch, she wasn’t the right girl for him. Pretending she was or might be or could be would only make a fool of her. So no matter how much he pushed or hinted, she would keep her secrets to herself.
“Seriously, it was nothing. And it’s not related to our pretending to be engaged.”
He studied her for an agonizing twenty seconds. Twenty seconds that had never felt so long. She knew he didn’t give up on anything, but maybe he hadn’t ever been in a tug-of-war with a person who’d basically been taking care of herself since she was four. Because there was no way in hell she was telling him about her past. After the mistake she made with her mom, she could keep a secret, hold her tongue, pretend everything was fine better than anyone. Particularly after how he’d reacted last night. Raised in a mansion with tons of money and even more love, Mitch had no idea how her side of the world ran.
When she’d had her raging crush on him, she’d always envisioned that when she told him about her past, he would be sympathetic. She’d pictured him telling her she was brave for wanting to find her mom and make up for the blunder she’d made at ten. But when she’d thought it through the night before—ensconced in the bedroom that spoke of the wealth of his world, the privilege, the love that he and his family took for granted—she suddenly realized he wouldn’t see it that way. What would a man who adored his parents think if he knew she was the one who’d called Child Services on her mom? She’d been a little girl, a cold, hungry little girl. Her only food was the free lunch she got at school on weekdays. She’d spent most of her first ten years alone and scared.
So she’d forgiven herself for taking the step she naively thought would solve her problems. But what would Mitch think? For her to have been taken away from her mom, he had to know her childhood hadn’t been good. But he didn’t know the extent of it. How could a guy who’d grown up with such perfection understand such poverty? Such pain? Not just her own but her mom’s?
He wouldn’t.
So she wouldn’t tell him.
“You’re sure it’s nothing? Because we still have an entire week of this charade. You and Riccardo both think Julia’s onto
us. We can’t afford to have any slipups.”
She nodded. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping up the charade until we go back to New York.”
He said, “Good,” and the expression in his eyes said he believed her, but he continued to search her gaze.
She stared into his dark, dark eyes, holding her ground, almost daring him to push for more, knowing he didn’t have another angle into the conversation about her job or her secret, and she’d satisfactorily handled the one in he’d had.
Finally, he looked away. He caught her hand and turned toward the door, but he stopped again. “If this thing falls apart, it’s going to be more than embarrassing. It will look like I had something to hide or a reason to go to the extreme of pretending to be engaged.”
“You did. You were trying to keep the focus of this wedding on your brother.”
“True.”
“But we’re not going to fail.”
He opened the door and she stepped out into the soothing evening sun.
They were quiet for a few seconds, then he casually said, “You’re so sure of yourself.”
She laughed. Sure of herself was the last term she’d use. What she was was protective.
“No. I’m sure of you. You don’t lose, Mitcham Ochoa. I’ve been watching you win for an entire year. If I have confidence, it’s in you.”
He sniffed a laugh. “Right.”
“It is right. You’re a winner. You’re one of those people who just has to crook his little finger and things fall into place.”
He frowned. “That’s how you see me?”
“Isn’t that the way your life is?”
“I lost my girlfriend to my brother. That same brother will inherit the top position for the vineyard. I looked around when I was twenty-four and realized I would be a footnote in Alonzo’s tenure as vintner for Ochoa Wines if I didn’t figure something out.”
She shrugged. “And you did.”
He sighed. “Sí. I did.”
“I would think you would be a little more proud of that.”