Fiancé in Name Only

by Maureen Child

  Even knowing that Kelly had just been kissed until her brain melted wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Gran. Not unless she and Micah were married or—

  Suddenly, the idea she’d played with earlier came back to her. Maybe it was the kiss. Maybe it was sitting across that table from Micah, talking, laughing, sharing dinner. Whatever the reason, Kelly made a decision that she really hoped she didn’t come to regret. “Actually, Gran,” she said, before the still-rational corner of her brain could stop her, “I was with my fiancé.”

  “What? Oh, my goodness, that’s wonderful!”

  The joy in her grandmother’s voice made Kelly smile and wince at the same time. Okay, yes, technically she was lying to her grandmother. But, really, she was just trying to give the older woman some peace. The chance to enjoy her life without constant worries about Kelly. That wasn’t a bad thing, was it? It’s not like she was pretending to be engaged for her own sake. This was completely altruistic.

  “Tell me everything,” Gran insisted. “Who is he? What does he do? Is he handsome?”

  “It’s Micah Hunter, Gran,” she said, hoping a lightning bolt didn’t streak out of the sky and turn her into a cinder. “The writer who’s renting the Victorian for six months.”

  “Oh, my, a writer!”

  Kelly’s eyes closed tightly on another wince, but that didn’t help because Micah’s image rose up in her mind and gave her a hard look. She ignored it.

  “He’s very handsome and very sweet.” Oh, it was a wonder her tongue didn’t simply rot and fall out of her mouth. Sweet? Micah Hunter? Sexy, yes. Prickly, oh, yeah. But she’d seen no evidence of sweet. Still, it was something her grandmother would want to hear. And as long as Kelly was lying through her teeth to the woman who had raised her, she was determined to make it a good lie.

  “When did this happen?” Gran asked. “When did he propose? What does your ring look like?”

  Before Kelly could answer, Gran covered the receiver and shouted, “Linda, you won’t believe it! Our girl is engaged to a writer!”

  Gran’s sister squealed in the background and Kelly sighed.

  “I’m putting you on speaker, sweetie. Linda wants to hear the story, too.”

  Great. A command performance. Boy, it was a good thing they didn’t do video chatting.

  “It just happened tonight,” Kelly blurted. Her grandmother’s friends in Banner no doubt gave her updates on Kelly, so she would know that nothing had happened between her and Micah any sooner.

  “How exciting!” Linda exclaimed, and Gran shushed her.

  “Tell us everything, honey,” Gran urged. “I want details.”

  “He cooked dinner tonight,” Kelly continued, and consoled herself that at least that part of the story wasn’t a lie. “He proposed while we were sitting out on the porch.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely.” Gran gave a heavy sigh and Kelly felt terrible.

  She was already regretting this, but she was in so deep now there was no way to back out without admitting she had lied. Nope. Couldn’t do it.

  “Yeah, it was lovely.” Kelly nodded and kept going, making it as romantic as she could for her grandmother’s sake. The woman loved watching Hallmark movies and had been known to cry at particularly touching commercials, so Kelly knew Gran would expect romance in this story.

  Thinking fast, she said, “He had flowers on the porch and those little white twinkle lights hung from the ceiling. Music was playing, too,” she added, telling herself to remember all of these details. “He brought out a bottle of champagne and went down on one knee and when I said yes, he kissed me.”

  Kissed her brainless, apparently, because otherwise why would she be inventing all of this? Oh, God, just remembering that kiss had her blood humming and heat spiraling through her body. One kiss and she was making up an engagement.

  What was she doing?

  “Well, good, I’m so glad to hear he gave you romance, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you.” Her grandmother sniffled a little and her sister said, “Oh, Bella, stop now. The girl’s happy. You should be too.”

  “These are happy tears, Linda, can’t you tell?”

  “They’re still tears, so stop it.”

  Kelly grimaced. Could you actually be devoured by guilt?

  “Pay no attention to my sister,” Gran said softly. “You know, honey, since you lost Sean, I’ve been so worried.”

  “I know.” Kelly told herself she was doing the right thing. She was easing an old woman’s heart. Making her happy. It wasn’t hurting anyone. Not even Micah, really. He was only here temporarily. Heck, he didn’t even have to meet her grandmother. And, when he left in four months, Kelly would simply tell Gran that they’d broken up. Maybe the very fact that Kelly had been engaged, however briefly, would be enough to assure Gran that she didn’t have to worry so much.

  “Will you take a picture of your ring and send it to me?”

  Oops. She looked at her naked ring finger and sighed.

  “Um, I don’t have a ring yet,” Kelly said.

  “The man thought of twinkle lights but didn’t bother with a ring?” Linda asked.

  The two women together were really hard to stand against. “Micah wants to wait until we go to New York so we can pick one out together.”

  “New York?” Linda’s tone changed. “How exciting!”

  “Hush, Linda,” Gran told her sister. “When are you going to New York, sweetie? Can you send me pictures? I’d love to show the girls at bingo.”

  “Sure I can, Gran.” Oh, my God, stop talking, Kelly.

  But the lies kept piling on top of each other until any second now, she’d be buried beneath a mountain of them. There was no way to stop now. She’d started all of this and she had to follow through because admitting a lie to her grandmother was simply impossible.

  “I don’t know when we’re going to New York though...” That was true, at least. “He’s busy with work and I’ve got Halloween coming up and—”

  Gran clucked her tongue and Kelly muffled a groan.

  “Well, you both just have to take the time for each other,” Gran told her firmly. “Work will always be there, but this is a special time for you two.”

  Oh, it was special, all right. And wait until she told Micah about all of this. That scene promised to be extra special.

  “Why a New York ring?” Linda demanded. “They don’t sell rings in Utah?”

  “Well,” Kelly said, making it up as she went along, “when I told Micah I’d never been to New York, he insisted on flying me out there in a private jet so he could show me around. So, we really want to wait on the ring until then.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Gran whispered. “Linda, can you imagine? Private jets.”

  “He must be rich,” Linda said thoughtfully.

  “Course he is,” Gran told her. “Haven’t we seen his books just everywhere? Don’t tell him we don’t read his books because they’re too scary, though, all right dear?”

  “Sure, I won’t tell him,” Kelly promised.

  “You know,” Aunt Linda said, “I saw a documentary on those private jets not long ago. They’ve got bedrooms on those jets. You could live on them, I swear.”

  Kelly couldn’t sit still anymore. She lunged out of the chair, walked to her tiny, serviceable kitchen and threw open the fridge. Grabbing the bottle of chardonnay, she pulled out the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle. Oh, if Gran could see her at that moment. Sighing a little, Kelly got a wineglass from a cabinet and poured herself what looked like eight ounces. It might not be enough.

  “Well,” Gran continued to argue with her sister. “They’re not looking to live on the plane, for heaven’s sake, and you just keep your mind out of bedrooms.”

  “Nothing wrong with a good romp,” Linda told her sister. “It would do
you good to try one.”

  Kelly took a big gulp of wine. She didn’t want to know about her grandmother’s sex life. Or her aunt’s, for that matter. Actually, she didn’t want to know they had sex lives.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gran sounded outraged. “Just because you don’t have standards...”

  “I have standards,” Linda countered, “but they don’t get in the way of a good time.”

  This argument could go on all night, Kelly knew. The two women loved nothing better than arguing with each other. Drinking her wine, Kelly told herself that while they were arguing about their men friends, they weren’t interrogating Kelly about her love life. That was something, anyway.

  Halfheartedly listening to the two of them, Kelly had enough of a break from her lie fest that she had the time to start worrying about breaking all of this to Micah. How was she supposed to explain it to him when she could hardly figure out herself why she’d started all of this?

  She stared out the kitchen window at the yard and the stately Victorian where the man she was using shamelessly was currently living, unaware that he’d just gotten engaged. Oh, boy.

  “When’s the wedding?” Linda asked suddenly.

  “She’s my granddaughter,” Gran said tightly. “I’ll ask the questions here. When Debbie gets engaged, then it’ll be your turn. Kelly, when’s the wedding, honey?”

  Kelly’s cousin Debbie had already insisted that she and her girlfriend were never getting married because the two grans would drive her insane. Kelly could understand that. After all, she’d already lived through one wedding where Gran had made and changed plans every day. If she ever really did get married again one day, she’d elope. Vegas sounded good.

  But, for now, Gran was waiting for an answer and since Kelly couldn’t tell the truth, she told another lie. It seemed she was on a roll.

  “Oh, the wedding won’t be for a while yet,” she hedged, and had another drink of wine. At this rate, she was going to pass out in another few minutes. “I mean, Micah’s got this book he’s working on and then he has to do other writing stuff—” Oh, God, that sounded weak, even to her. What did writers have to do? “Um, book tours and research trips for the next book, so we probably won’t be able to get married for at least another six months, maybe even a year. It all depends on Micah’s work.” There. That was reasonable, right?

  “Wonderful,” Gran said, and Kelly released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “That gives us plenty of time to plan. You’ll have the wedding at the Victorian, of course...”

  “Oh, of course,” Kelly agreed, rolling her eyes so hard she heard them rattle.

  “Or,” Linda argued. “You could get married on the beach right here in Florida. Next summer, maybe?”

  “I don’t know, Aunt Linda...”

  “Why would you want to get married on a beach?” Gran snorted. “All that sand in your shoes and the wind ruining your hair and seagulls pooping all over the place.”

  “It’s romantic,” Linda insisted.

  “It’s dirty,” Gran countered.

  “Oh, God,” Kelly murmured, so quietly that the other two women on the line didn’t hear her.

  Completely wrapped up in their argument, the ladies didn’t notice when Kelly went quiet and that was good. Carrying her wine back to the living room, Kelly dropped into a chair again and listened with only half an ear to her grandmother and aunt.

  She didn’t have to pay attention now. Kelly knew that she’d be hearing nothing but plans for the next four months—until Micah left and she could break this imaginary engagement. Supposing, of course, that she could talk Micah into going along with this in the first place. If she couldn’t, then what? She’d have to claim insanity. That would be the only excuse accepted by her family.

  Guilt was becoming such a familiar companion she hardly noticed when it dropped into the pit of her stomach and sat there like a ball of ice. Wine wouldn’t melt it, either, though she gave it her best shot.

  Her grandmother was talking about white dresses while Linda insisted that white was outdated and Kelly wasn’t a virgin, anyway.

  A snort of laughter escaped her throat and Kelly was half-afraid it would turn into hysteria. Shaking her head, she tried to figure out the best way to approach Micah about the story she’d created. Once she hung up the phone, Gran would be calling all of her friends in Banner to share the happy news, so Micah had to be prepared for questions. And for behaving like a man in love so she could keep her grandmother blissfully unaware for four short months.

  Oh, boy. Lying got out of hand so quickly Kelly could only sit and stare blankly at the wall opposite her. Really, even when a lie seemed like the best idea, it wasn’t. No one ever looked far ahead as to what that lie was going to look like once other people picked it up and ran with it. But it wasn’t as if she’d had a whole lot of options. She wasn’t dating anyone, so she’d had to name Micah. She couldn’t let her grandmother give up her new life and sacrifice herself on the altar of Sad Lonely Granddaughter.

  But, even though she knew she was doing the right thing, the hole she’d dug for herself was beginning to feel like a bottomless chasm.

  At least, she hoped it was bottomless. Otherwise, the crash landing she was going to make would be spectacular.

  * * *

  Micah woke up irritated. Not surprising since what little sleep he had gotten had been haunted by images of Kelly Flynn.

  “Your own damn fault,” he muttered. “If you hadn’t kissed her...”

  The taste of her was still with him. The feel of her body, warm and pliant against his. Her eager response had fired his blood to the point that it had taken everything he had just to let her go and back off.

  Hell, the woman had been making him nuts for the last two months. Sexy, smart and a wiseass, Kelly was enough to bring any man to his knees.

  “But damned if I will,” he muttered darkly, and got out of bed. Disgusted with himself and her, he stalked to the bathroom, turned the water on to heat up, then stood under the shower. He let the hot water slam into his head, hoping it might wash away the last of the dreams that had tormented him and had had him waking up hard as iron.

  Naturally it didn’t work. It was like her features were imprinted on his brain. Her wide green eyes, the way she had lifted one hand to her lips when their kiss ended. Her smile, her ridiculous insistence on keeping track of “points” scored.

  Shaking his head, he saw her in the stupid pumpkin patch talking about her war with deer, of all things. Micah had never seen a deer. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he didn’t want or need a woman. But maybe that was wrong, too. If he was fantasizing this much about the landlady, it had clearly been too long since he’d been with a woman.

  “Gotta be it,” he murmured, shutting off the water and stepping out of the tiled, glassed-in shower. “That’s the reason I can’t stop thinking about a woman who doesn’t even know when she has orange paint on her face.”

  He dried off, then walked into the bedroom, not bothering to shave. Hell, he’d gotten so little sleep he’d probably slit his own throat if he attempted it.

  “What I need to do is put this out of my head and get to work.” Losing himself in a grisly murder was just the thing to take his mind off finding Kelly and dragging her here to his bed.

  He pulled on a pair of black jeans, then tugged a forest green T-shirt over his head. Micah didn’t bother with shoes. It might be gray and cold outside, but inside the old house was toasty. All he wanted was some coffee and then some quiet so he could create another murder.

  As soon as he opened the bedroom door, the unmistakable scent of fresh coffee hit him hard. But it wasn’t just coffee. It was bacon, too. And toast. “What kind of burglar breaks into a house to make breakfast?”

  He started down the long staircase, his
bare feet silent on the sapphire-blue carpet runner. Two months here and he still felt like a stranger in this big old house with its creaky doors and polished, old-world style.

  He couldn’t complain about anything. The house had been updated over the years and boasted comfortable furniture, every amenity and a view from every window that really was beautiful. But it was a lot more space than he was used to. A lot more quiet than he was happy with. Being solitary was part of being a writer. After all, the bottom line was sitting by yourself at a computer. If you needed people with you every damn minute, then writing was not the job for you.

  But even solitary creatures needed sensory input from time to time. And being on your own in a house built for a family of a couple dozen could be a little unsettling. Hell, as a mystery/horror writer, Micah could use this house, the solitude and the woods behind the property as the perfect setting for a book.

  As that thought took root in his mind, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, considered it and muttered, “Of course I should be using this house. Why the hell aren’t I?”

  He continued on through to the kitchen, his senses focused on the tantalizing scents dragging him closer even while his mind figured out how big a rewrite he was looking at. To move his heroine from a small apartment in town to this big house, he’d have to change a million little things. But, he told himself, the atmosphere alone would be worth it.

  A cold winter night, the heroine closed up in her bedroom, a fire burning as the wind shrieked and sleet pelted the windows. Then over that noise, she hears something else. Someone moving downstairs—when she’s alone in the house.

  “Oh, yeah,” he told himself, nodding, “that’s good. I like it.”

  He hit the swinging door into the kitchen, stepped inside and stopped dead. Kelly stood at the stove, stirring scrambled eggs in a skillet. Morning sunlight danced in her hair, making the red and gold shine like a new penny. Her black yoga pants clung to her behind and hugged her legs before disappearing into the tops of the black boots on her feet. She half turned toward him when he came in. Her pale green long-sleeved shirt had the top two buttons undone, giving Micah just a peek at what looked like a lacy pink bra.