Twisted Arrangement 3

by Mora Early

  Twisted Arrangement

  Volume 3

  Mora Early

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 ~ The Arrangement

  Chapter 2 ~ Owens’ Leading Lady

  Chapter 3 ~ A Really Important Question

  Chapter 4 ~ The Family Circus

  Chapter 5 ~ Seeing the Future

  Chapter 6 ~ This is Not Tupperware

  Chapter 7 ~ Definitely Going to Hell

  Chapter 8 ~ Something Old, Something New

  Chapter 9 ~ Take Two, With Champagne

  ~ Epilogue: 5:27 A.M. ~

  From the Author

  Chapter 1 ~ The Arrangement

  Emma didn’t even flinch as Todd stumbled into the kitchen. It was four in the morning on a Wednesday. The sky outside was just beginning to lighten toward sunrise and her baby brother looked like 20 miles of bad road. His dirty blond hair stuck out every which way, just as it had when he was a baby, waking up from a nap. The day’s growth of dark stubble on his cheeks wasn’t infantile at all, however. Or the bloodshot eyes and the aura of stale beer.

  Normally, Emma would have already jumped on him about his irresponsible behavior and his inconsiderate attitude. But not tonight. Or this morning, rather. Instead, she sipped her coffee and stared down at her kitchen table. More specifically, at what rested on the kitchen table.

  Todd tugged off his shoes and chucked them in the general direction of her shoe mat. She saw his gaze flash to her from the corner of her eye, but didn’t react. Dirty shoes on the kitchen floor were the least of her problems at the moment.

  “You are not going to believe happened to me tonight.” Todd scrubbed a palm over his stubbled cheek, producing a sand paper rasp that set Emma’s teeth on edge.

  “Did an accident befall your cell phone?”

  He quirked a tired brow, blearily eying her coffee mug. “What? No. Well, yeah, actually, but that’s part of a different story. Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe otherwise you might have answered one of my dozen phone calls.” Emma wrapped her fingers tighter around the mug. “Or texts.”

  “Shit, Ems. I dropped the damn thing and the battery went skittering off to who knows where.” He imitated the battery sliding off into nothingness with a sweep of his hand. “What’s the news?”

  She hiccuped a small, hysterical laugh. When Todd frowned at her, she clapped a hand to her mouth. She shook her head, unable to speak, and shoved the glossy tabloid in front of him.

  JOSH O, SAY IT AIN’T SO! screamed the giant, bold-faced headline. Below it was a full color shot of Josh from the press luncheon yesterday afternoon, beaming that sweet, crooked grin, his blond hair gleaming beneath the banquet hall’s lights. He looked like a leading man, not just a producer. And standing beside him, clinging to him (though she didn’t remember doing that at all) was Emma. She looked elegant in her black cocktail dress with her smooth chignon, but the look on her face was more rube than red carpet.

  She was staring up at Josh’s handsome, camera-ready face with wide eyes and parted lips, the color in her cheeks clearly visible in the close-up. She looked like a starry-eyed teen just swept onto the stage by her favorite rock star. Only she knew that what looked like breathless lovesickness in two dimensions had actually been nausea and terror in real life.

  Todd blinked tired eyes at the paper, his brain taking several long moments to translate the text. His brow furrowed deeply as he raised his head to stare at Emma. “You’re marrying Josh Owens? Since when?”

  “Since he found out I stole his watch and blackmailed me into it!” She shoved back from the table, strode to the sink and tossed the rest of her lukewarm coffee down the drain. She washed the mug roughly.

  Todd was still sitting at the table when she turned around. He’d flipped the paper open to the article and started reading, his brows tangled. “Why?”

  “Why? I tell you Josh Owens is blackmailing me into marrying him and all you have to say is why?” She wrung her hands. “Because he can, that’s why. He said he’ll go to the police, have you and I both put in jail if I don’t do this for him.”

  “Do what for him? No offense, Ems, but what does he get out of marrying you?” He tapped his fingers against the tabloid’s picture.

  Emma paced the kitchen. She didn’t take offense. If Josh hadn’t spelled it out, she’d be wondering the same thing. “It’s William Ransler. Josh needs him for his new project. Ransler won’t sign on because he thinks Josh is a skirt-chaser, so Josh thinks if he has a wife, then...” She trailed off, spreading her hands.

  To be honest, having met and talked with William Ransler, she thought Josh was probably right. The gruff actor was more rigid and judgmental than a busload of nuns.

  A wife would go a long way toward assuaging the mega-star’s ridiculous concerns about Josh’s philandering behavior. Not just any wife, though. No, she’d realized Josh picked her for a reason. Ransler wasn’t stupid. If Josh paraded some Hollywood starlet out as his bride, the older man would be instantly suspicious of a setup. But Emma was a nobody. Better yet, she was a nobody Ransler had met and seen around Josh already.

  “And you agreed to that?” Todd leaned his chair back onto its rear legs, giving a low whistle. “Gotta say, Ems. I’m impressed.”

  “No, I didn’t agree! Which is why he did that.” She waved a trembling hand at the paper in front of him. “He thinks he’s backed me into a corner. But I’m not just going to... to... Ugh!” She collapsed into her chair and buried her face in her hands.

  Todd picked up the paper and fanned himself with it. “Now, now. Don’t be hasty. Let’s at least talk about this.”

  “Todd,” she moaned. “Please. I can’t.” Her stomach had been tied in a knot ever since the luncheon ended yesterday. Josh had brushed a quick kiss over her still-stunned lips, for show of course, and disappeared with Ben and Magnus Gunn. She’d seen Ben staring at her as he’d followed Josh out. She could almost imagine sympathy in those hazel eyes.

  Her brother, looking more alert that he had any right to be at this hour, jumped from his chair and crossed to the coffee-maker. Emma watched with wide eyes as he set about making a fresh pot. She briefly wondered what had happened to him tonight, but her panic over what to do about Josh overwhelmed that fleeting thought.

  “What, exactly, is he offering here?” Todd tapped a few spoons of coffee grounds into the machine.

  “He said if I marry him and pretend to be his wife for the duration of the filming, then we can keep The Watch and he won’t go to the authorities.” She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, catching on the knots and tugging them loose.

  “So, it would be a marriage in name only?” Todd poured water into the reservoir.

  Heat splashed Emma’s cheeks. “Of course it would be a marriage in name only! He’s not... we wouldn’t...” She rolled the tabloid into a tube and then twisted it in her hands. Josh couldn’t have meant for them to sleep together. He just needed her to appease Ransler. He was looking for a wife, not a lover. A man like him could get one of those easily enough. The coffee churned in her stomach like suds in a washing machine.

  She couldn’t forget the heated kiss he’d given her before he’d dragged her on stage. He knew she was Madame Butterfly now. Would he expect their sham marriage to mimic a real one not just in front of Ransler, but behind closed doors as well? Her knuckles turned white as she crumpled the newspaper. He could expect all he wanted. She wasn’t going to barter herself away. No matter how appealing the idea of... consummating with Josh Owens might be.

  “Well, then.” Todd sounded calm. As if they were discussing whether or not she should paint the kitchen walls, not her possible impending sham marriage to her blackmailer. “I think yo
u should do it.”

  She shook her head, clearing her mind of thoughts of Josh’s hard chest pressed to hers as he leaned in for the aborted kiss in his car. Heat burned through her blood. Anger heat. Not desire. “How could I possibly pretend to be married to a man I’m–” Emma clamped her mouth shut. Had she been about to say ‘not in love with’ or ‘falling in love with’? She shoved the question away. It was stupid. She was definitely not in love with Joshua Owens.

  Just because he had blue-green eyes that twinkled when he teased her, and a crooked smile with firm, sculpted lips, and he took in abandoned puppies and gave money to charity – all that didn’t make him lovable. He was one of the filthy rich, always wasting money on flashy cars and overpriced amenities he didn’t really need.

  She loathed men like him. Just because her heart trembled whenever he was near her didn’t mean she was in love with him. She was attracted to him. Attracted and a little afraid of him. That’s all. He was a formidable adversary, and they’d been on opposite sides since the moment they’d met, whether he’d known it before now or not.

  “You don’t have to actually love the guy, Ems,” Todd replied, leaning a hip against the counter while the fresh coffee brewed. “It’s just a few months of playing pretend. You’ll get to live in a big mansion and wear fancy clothes and not have to worry about squeezing every penny until it screams. You deserve that, even if it’s just for a little while.”

  “Todd –”

  “Plus, we’ll get to keep Dad’s watch and neither one of us gets in trouble with the cops. Where’s the down side? Because I really don’t see it.”

  Both brows curved upward. It wasn’t a smart-ass question. Emma could see the sincerity in Todd’s bloodshot green eyes. He genuinely didn’t understand why she was so opposed to this arrangement. But then again, Todd had no idea just how Emma had gone about getting The Watch back. Luring a practical stranger into his bedroom with the promise of a tongue bath in order to steal from him was hardly the kind of plan you shared the details of with your little brother.

  She deflated, slumping to the table and letting out a long breath. “I guess there isn’t one.” Her tone sounded flat and defeated to her own ears, but Todd gave her a small smile, clearly not hearing it.

  “Great!” The coffee machine beeped and burbled as it finished brewing. Todd inclined his head. “Hey, maybe you can get me a job on the film!”

  Emma closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

  ***

  It wasn’t even 8 AM yet and Josh was already at his desk. He had a lot of work to get through if he was going to pull this off. Everything was falling in to place. Well, everything but his lovely, reluctant fiancé, that was.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Josh looked up from the stack of messages Martin had dumped in front of him with a pained sniff ten minutes ago. Requests for interviews, mostly, all from gossip rags interested in one thing. The wedding. His lips spread in a grin so wide his cheeks hurt.

  Emma stood in the door to his office, back ramrod straight, small, pointed chin held high. There were dark circles beneath her green eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well, but now they blazed at him. Angry, defiant. As if she was the one who’d been robbed.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t my bride-to-be.” He felt a small stab of remorse as he saw her flinch but tucked it away. She was, after all, the one who’d lied to and stolen from him. A little ribbing was hardly the worst he could do to her.

  Two bright patches of color burned high in her cheeks. “But I have conditions.”

  Josh quirked a brow. She really wasn’t in any place to negotiate. Once he’d known where to look, Ben had gotten Josh all the evidence he’d need to put Emma and her brother away. Not that he wanted to do that. Having her in his debt right now worked out perfectly.

  He never would have thought to ask timid party planner Emma to pose as his wife for the next few months. But the actress who’d fooled him into thinking she was both a shy girl he was coaxing out of her shell and a sultry vixen who promised explicit carnal pleasures with a bawdy laugh? She was just the girl he needed to sell his fictional relationship to William Ransler.

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him. She folded her stiff frame into it, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her knuckles were white. Again, Josh felt that twinge of remorse and forced himself to bury it. “There are obviously a lot of things we need to discuss before the wedding.” He smiled.

  Emma closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were blank and unreadable. “I’m going to ask you, just once, to let this go. That watch was my father’s. It’s been in our family for 100 years. I know it was wrong to steal it from you, but...” She trailed off, shrugging uncomfortably. “I had to get it back.”

  “Believe it or not, I do understand.” He spun his chair, turning his back to her and facing the glass trophy case against the wall. The case she’d taken the watch out of. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

  “Of course it does!” She shot out of her chair and began pacing, clutching her elbows in her slender hands. Josh exhaled a long breath and turned back around to face her.

  “Would you close the door, please?”

  She stilled, color high, took two strides toward the door and slammed it closed. It was Josh’s turn to wince at the sharp sound. Emma crossed her arms beneath her pert breasts. Josh remembered the feel of her naked flesh, her nipples hard against his palms. The idea that it had been Emma he’d touched, Emma who’d kissed him like she wanted to pull him inside her skin... it made Josh’s blood boil.

  And he was going to be married to her. Not truly married, of course. Not legally. But still, he thought, lips curving, it was going to be an enjoyable few months. If he could get her to agree to it, of course. “What does it change?”

  Emma stopped in front of his desk, pressing her palms to the smooth wood surface and leaning slightly over it. Her green eyes pleaded. “Josh, please. Don’t make me do this.”

  He felt a spark of heat beneath his ribs. “Damn it, Emma, is it really something so difficult I’m asking for? Worse than jail?” She hadn’t seemed to have any trouble luring him away from the ball and into his bedroom when she’d wanted the watch. Could she possibly despise him so much? Had the whole thing, everything he thought he knew, been an act?

  Maybe Emma hated him. She’d made comments about ‘the rich’ and his ‘circle’ before. Several times. Did she consider him one of the arrogant snobs who blew their money on meaningless parties while she and her brother had grown up with nothing?

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?” Josh shoved a hand through his hair, tugging at the blond locks. He had to admit he felt a small sense of relief at her assurance. But why, then, was she so set against the idea? “Look, I know I steam-rolled you a bit at the press conference, but I think I’m offering you a pretty fair deal.” Her eyes popped open at his words, round and brilliantly green.

  “A bit? You announced our engagement to a room full of reporters!” But he saw the thin line of her mouth relax slightly, and she collapsed back into the chair. “I know the movie is important to you and that you need Ransler to do it the way you want to. But... you know this is crazy, right? There’s no way he’ll believe we’re getting married.”

  He had her. He could see the acceptance in her relaxed shoulders. “He will if we really do. As in, the church, the dress, guests, a reception. Everything. You’ll move in here. It will be as real as we can possibly make it look.” She blinked at him slowly, wringing her hands.

  “How can you possibly pull that off? Weddings, real weddings, take months to plan.”

  “Between the two of us? We could have it tomorrow if we wanted.” Josh grinned. That was probably true. They were both exceptionally good at making things happen. Especially elaborate parties. They’d proved that twice over recently.

  Emma swallowed audibly. “When were you thinking...” She trailed
off, took a deep breath, and started again. “Were you thinking of having the ceremony soon?” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

  Josh flipped open his planner and pushed it toward her. “Two weeks from today. June 17th.”

  She reached out toward the book, but when she realized her fingers were trembling she curled them into a fist and stuffed the fist into her lap. She nodded. “Okay. Two weeks from today. Until when?”

  “I can’t give you an exact date. Filming can be unpredictable. Say four months.” Josh leaned back in his chair. Now that they were talking particulars, that fiery spark under his ribs seemed to be cooling.

  “So, for four months I’ll be living here. I suppose Todd can stay at my house. But won’t you be away filming most of that time? Do I really need to be here?” She absently tugged a lock of hair free from her chignon and wound it around a finger.

  “Most of the locations we’ve locked down already are within a few hours of here. I’ll be working out of the house. It would look pretty suspicious if you were still living with your brother in the house on Montecito.”

  Emma sighed. “Right. Fine. Four months and then we call it quits. We go our separate ways. I keep The Watch and whatever evidence you have disappears, right?”

  “Precisely. During the four months, we’ll be the happiest couple since Bogey and Bacall, though. You host events with me and attend any premieres or parties we’re invited to. If I have to travel, you travel with me. Which reminds me, what are we going to do about your job?” Josh tapped his fingers against his chin.

  “My job? I’m going to do it. Why would we need to do anything about my job?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not one of those chauvinists who doesn’t think his wife should work, are you?”

  Josh snorted. “Hardly. But in this particular case, I need you to be working for me, not Picture Perfect.”

  “I can’t just quit my job, Josh! Aside from all the time I’ve put in there, and the fact that I couldn’t afford to pay my bills without the income, I’ll need it once this sham marriage is over!”