Twisted Arrangement 3

by Mora Early

  “Did Ben send you here?”

  The curvy brunette threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, no. He forbade me to try and meet you before the wedding. Like I said, black sheep. You are not an easy girl to track down, by the way. I had to go through about a zillion people at your job before someone would tell me you were at a fitting. This dress is gorgeous on you, by the way. Josh is going to love it.”

  Emma’s heart did a weird sideways lurch in her chest. She decided to ignore that last part, since it was irrelevant. Josh would marry her whether or not she showed up in sackcloth. He didn’t care about the dress or any of this other stuff. He just needed a bride. The rest, including her, was only window dressing.

  “Why were you forbidden from meeting me? Should I be worried?” She wasn’t really, but she cut a quick glance at the door anyway. Where was Erin with her shoes? If Suzanne suspected the marriage was a sham, would she try and tell Emma off? It wasn’t like this was her idea!

  “No, no. At least, I don’t think so. Ben’s just worried because I can be... overwhelming, sometimes. My husband says he thinks I was supposed to be born twins, because I’ve got more than enough personality for one person.” She chuckled, clearly not offended by the assessments of the men in her life.

  Emma couldn’t help but smile. Suzanne’s bubbly personality was infectious. “Well, I do feel a bit overwhelmed. But it’s not because of you.” It was the dress, and the prospect of what she was about to do. In a week and a half, she would be standing up in a church and marrying Josh Owens. Only not really. Suzanne nodded, though of course she didn’t really understand.

  “I figured that might be the case. That’s why I brought this!” She reached into her Louis Vuitton and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “No glasses,” she said as she began twisting off the foil. “But I think we’ll survive drinking out of the bottle.”

  Emma laughed. “Thanks, but I don’t want to risk the dress.”

  “Well, I’ll just hold onto this while the girl does her thing then. Where is she anyway?”

  Emma lifted the hem of the dress to reveal her bare feet. “Shoes.”

  “Ahh. Very important. You have to find something that will look smashing in the wedding photos and not kill your feet during the ceremony.” Suzanne flinched as the cork popped. Emma watched in the mirror but the bottle didn’t fizz over.

  “Huh.”

  Suzanne’s brows rose as she raised the bottle to her lips. “You were expecting the fizz?”

  “Yeah! I don’t know. In the movies, in a scene like this, the bottle always fizzes over.” Both women snorted.

  “Waste of good champagne anyway. Can you sit down in that?”

  Emma studied the voluminous skirts skeptically. Then she gingerly stepped down from the platform and picked her way carefully through the array of measuring tapes and pincushions until she reached an upholstered fainting couch. She didn’t sit so much as lean, but she was off her feet at least. Which was something of a blessing. She’d been standing for the last 30 minutes, which wasn’t so bad, except her legs had been shaking nervously the whole time and now felt like limp spaghetti.

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to get grilled?”

  Suzanne grinned, her pretty face lighting up. Her hazel eyes sparkled. “Just a little. Josh is like a brother to me, you know. I just want to make sure you’re not some floozy gold-digger. If you are, I’ll give you one shot to call it off and scram.”

  “And then?” Emma cocked her head. Suzanne was smiling but she could tell the other woman genuinely cared for Josh. She swallowed hard.

  “Then I get the shovel.” Suzanne took another sip of champagne. “‘A vague disclaimer...’”

  “‘Is nobodies friend’,” Emma finished for her, grinning herself. Suzanne nodded.

  “Well, recognizing a Buffy quote gets you points.”

  Emma tugged at a loose lock of hair. “Are you kidding? I could quote BtVS all day. Only one of the best shows ever.”

  Suzanne leaned forward in her chair. “Okay, so you’ve got decent taste in TV. But that’s a gimme. Everyone likes Buffy. Here’s a really important question...” She trailed off, studying Emma’s face carefully. Emma shifted on the couch, chewing her lower lip. Suzanne took a deep breath, leaned back, and said, “Angel or Spike?”

  “Spike,” she shot back immediately. Suzanne snorted.

  “Trick question, the answer is ‘Oz’.”

  Emma snickered, eyeing the bottle of champagne. She really could use a drink. Forget that it was lunchtime. “Oh, Oz was awesome. But I thought we were talking vampires. In which case, the only answer is Spike.”

  “I’m a Bangel girl. But we can agree to disagree on that. Where’d you go to school?” The swift change of topic was clearly meant to throw her off. Emma might be nervous but she wasn’t a n00b.

  “UC Berkeley. You?”

  Suzanne narrowed her eyes. “Stanford. Why are you marrying Josh?”

  “Because I can’t not marry him. Why are you the black sheep if you went to Stanford?” This rapidfire exchange was actually kind of fun. And she hadn’t lied. Suzanne swigged the champagne again.

  “I’m a Republican. What do you think of Josh’s job?”

  Emma stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes, reaching her fingers toward them. The dress actually allowed for a fairly decent range of motion. “I think he’s very good at it. Why did Ben really not want me to meet you before the wedding?”

  Suzanne quirked a brow and raised the bottle in toast. “Because he thinks I’m the one who chased off Josh’s last girlfriend. Do you want kids?”

  That one tripped Emma up. Unbidden, a veritable slideshow of images played behind her eyes. Josh stroking the smooth mound of her pregnant belly, whispering to the child inside and looking up at Emma with laughing eyes, Josh holding an infant with a fuzz of dark hair, Josh swinging a golden-haired toddler up onto his shoulders. Each one was a sucker punch of startling longing.

  If Suzanne had asked her that question even six months ago, her answer would have been ‘maybe, someday’. Vague and noncommittal. She’d never really thought about it. Not in any concrete sense. If she had, it had been all mixed up with her feelings about losing her parents so young and being raised by Aunt Margaret. It had never been about wanting to have children with a specific man.

  She’d never met a man who made her feel the way Josh made her feel. Josh, who was blackmailing her into a sham marriage to lull William Ransler into working with him. How had her life gotten so complicated? The one man she thought she might...

  Emma slammed the door on that thought hard. It didn’t even bear thinking about. “Maybe. Someday,” she croaked. Emma cleared her throat. “How did you chase off Lolly Tate?”

  “Oh, not Lolly. The one before that, Crissy. And I didn’t chase her off. Why is Josh marrying you?” Suzanne put her dainty feet up on the ottoman and crossed them at the ankle.

  “He says I saved him.”

  That made the other woman’s brows curve upward. “Did he? That’s interesting.”

  Emma got up from the couch and began to pace. Her veins were suddenly humming with nervous energy. The long train kept tangling around her legs, forcing her to stop and pull it back around. “Why does Ben think you chased off Crissy?”

  “Because Crissy and Josh broke up shortly after she met me for the first time. It was entirely coincidental, but Ben really liked her. Like, a lot. Which I think had more to do with the break-up than my presence in their dorm room for a weekend.” Suzanne grinned. “Though she did walk in on me wearing nothing but one of Josh’s shirts.”

  Cold sweat prickled along Emma’s upper lip. “Oh?” Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. She turned quickly away from Suzanne but the other woman’s gaze found her in the mirror. If Ben’s sister was about to confess some sort of torrid past affair with Josh, Emma thought she might throw up.

  It was going to be hard enough being Josh’s wife in name only without intimate details
making it even more difficult to be around his effortless gorgeousness. Suzanne inclined her head. “Relax, Emma. Josh and I are family, that’s all. He was technically my first kiss, but we were both pre-pubescent at the time so it doesn’t count.”

  Suzanne popped out of the chair and practically skipped across the room, offering Emma the bottle of champagne. “The good news is, you passed.”

  “I did?” She carefully took the bottle but hesitated before lifting it to her lips, inclining her head and waiting for Suzanne to respond.

  “Yeah. No woman who didn’t have genuine feelings for Josh would turn quite that shade of green at the prospect of chatting with an ex lover.” Suzanne’s devious grin was wide. Emma tipped back her head and drank a long swig of champagne. The bubbles fizzed wildly in her belly, but did nothing to cover up the nervous quiver that had greeted Suzanne’s pronouncement.

  Genuine feelings for Josh.

  “I...” She trailed off, swallowing hard, her fingers clenching around the neck of the champagne bottle. Luckily, she was saved from responding by Erin’s return. The pretty shopgirl’s arms were stacked so high with shoeboxes, Emma wasn’t sure how she was able to walk. But Erin maneuvered the minefield of the fitting room deftly and deposited the boxes next to the couch.

  “I found several pairs that I think will look amazing, so I brought them all. It will come down to what’s most comfortable for you.” Erin turned a bright grin on Suzanne. “Are you family?”

  Emma flushed. “Oh, she’s –”

  “I will be soon. After a fashion. This one is marrying my brother’s best friend. Now, let’s see these shoes, Em.” Suzanne flopped back into her chair, bracing her elbows on her knees and propping up her chin in expectation.

  Emma glanced from Suzanne to Erin. They both smiled at her eagerly. This was what the next four months of her life were going to be like. Lying to perfectly nice people with every word she spoke for no good reason. She needed to get used to it.

  She’d done it before. Todd was right about that. She’d lied to Aunt Margaret all through her teenage years. To multiple teachers of both hers and Todd’s. Plus a whole slew of people Todd called ‘friends’ but who rarely were anything more than the latest group taking advantage of her little brother’s eagerness to please.

  Why did it feel so different when it had to do with Josh? Genuine feelings, Suzanne had said.

  Emma took another long draught of the champagne before sinking back down onto the fainting couch. She stuck her feet out from beneath the heavy satin hem. “Let’s see these shoes,” she said.

  Chapter 4 ~ The Family Circus

  Josh adjusted the tray of hors d'oeuvres for the thirteenth – or was it fourteenth? – time, shifting it slightly to the right. Closer to the pile of napkins. He really should have at least considered his parents before barreling head first into his scheme. In his defense, when Emma had balked at his proposal during the press luncheon, he’d still been spinning over the fact that his Emma was Madame Butterfly.

  Not that she was actually his. But as opposed to any other Emma. Like... well, he was pretty sure there was at least one in the costume department who’d be working on the film.

  He tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. Should he roll it down? Josh began to unroll the sleeve and then stopped, shaking his head. A rolled down sleeve was not going to make his mother forgive him for finding out he was engaged via the tabloids. Even if it was a fake engagement. Which, of course, he wasn’t going to tell her. She’d probably kill him for that too. The presence of his father, his staff, and probably even the entire bench of the United States Supreme Court wouldn’t save him if Kara Owens was of a mind to flay his hide.

  Josh heard her before he saw her, of course. Her rich voice echoed through the large house, the edge of laughter in it making his lips tick up reflexively.

  “I know where the conservatory is, dear. It is my son’s house. I’ve been here a time or two.” He rose to his feet as she rounded the corner, her pale reddish gold hair glimmering in the sunlight pouring through the many windows. It was twisted up in a knot, as usual. He saw at least one pen sticking out.

  “Leave her be, Mom. She’s just doing her job. Thanks, Marcy.”

  Marcy inclined her head and slipped silently away. Josh’s mother strode over to him and wrapped a slender arm around his waist, squeezing hard. She barely came up to his chest. He got his height from his father’s side of the family. Josh hugged her back, glancing over her head to smile at his dad.

  Cameron Owens was quiet where his wife was boisterous. He had thick golden hair and a neatly trimmed beard and wore glasses and sweater vests. He looked like a professor in a movie. He was a professor in real life. He’d taught sociology for the last 27 years.

  “Where’s Martin?” his mother asked, letting him go with another brief squeeze.

  “He hasn’t left you, has he?” His father’s pale brow curved upward in an expression Josh had seen in the mirror plenty of times. There may be some grey in his father’s blond hair, and the shape of Josh’s face bore more than a trace of his mother’s Irish forebears, but the resemblance between the two men was still pronounced.

  “No, he hasn’t left me, Dad, as you so hilariously put it. He’s on an errand for me.” Martin was, in fact, collecting Emma. He hadn’t informed either her or his parents about this little impromptu meeting. Martin was supposed to let her know they were here. He hoped that getting them both past the stumbling block of his parents potentially not buying the marriage would ease Emma’s nerves.

  They’d met with Clarice twice in the last week to iron out all the details of the ceremony and the reception, and every time they were in the same room, Emma looked like she was barely containing the urge to flee. She could hardly even look at him. At the last meeting, they’d been discussing the wedding party, and when he’d suggested the 6-year-old daughter of Max Chartrand’s girlfriend Steph, she’d stiffened.

  All he’d said was that Annabelle was a great kid. He’d watched her grow up from a chubby toddler to a hilarious and interesting little girl.

  “Sounds like you love her.” Clarice had grinned, jotting the name down in her book. “That’s good. The wedding party should contain only your closest friends and family.”

  Emma had gotten up abruptly and excused herself for the bathroom. Josh watched her go, bewildered.

  “Don’t worry, handsome. Brides always get emotionally wobbly before the wedding. It’s perfectly normal.” Clarice winked.

  Josh sank back into the chair he’d vacated when his parents had come in and prayed Emma’s ‘emotional wobbliness’ was on sabbatical today. His father took the green silk striped couch opposite him. His mother, as usual, began flitting around the room, touching things. She didn’t do it to fiddle or check for dust or anything like that. Kara Owens just found it incredibly difficult to sit still.

  “I see you put out hors d'oeuvres. What’s the matter? Too big to grovel anymore?”

  “No. I just figured you wouldn’t want to listen to me on an empty stomach,” he shot back, grinning.

  She flapped a hand at him. “Smart ass.”

  “Where does he get that from, I wonder?” His father cleaned his glasses, lips twisting in a wry smile. Kara snorted, hands fisting on her hips. She wasn’t a slender woman, nor was she plump, exactly, but a happy medium. As she was fond of saying ‘I like that I’ve got a bit of a belly’.

  “So, are you going to tell me why I had to find out my only child was engaged to be married over my morning cup of tea? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone seriously!” She flopped onto the couch beside his father, stretching her legs out. Her jeans were worn at the knees and she was wearing scuffed sneakers. A few years ago, she’d retired from teaching elementary school and had taken up painting. And belly dancing. And hiking.

  Josh smiled at his mother. He loved both his parents immensely, but it was no secret he was especially close with his mother. At least, not to anyone who knew them. “Well, it hap
pened sort of incredibly quickly. I didn’t know I was going to propose until I was already doing it and then...” He shrugged. That was all the truth. His mother had a nose for ferreting out his lies. Which, of course, was something he should have thought about before parading Emma in front of a room full of reporters.

  But, at the time, it had seemed so perfect. Sure, he’d been knocked on his ass to think that Emma, his sweet party planner who hid her feisty nature behind an almost timid professional facade, was the siren who’d seduced him at his ball. The knowledge had perched on his shoulders like a lodestone, heavy and unmanageable. He’d been thinking about having to call the cops and watch them take her away. He’d though about Emma going to jail. Because she surely would have. That watch was worth tens of thousands of dollars. He’d had it appraised.

  And then a sly voice in the back of his mind had pointed out that the fact that she was in such a precarious position could work out for him. He needed a wife to convince Ransler, and Emma had proved herself an adept actress. Violá! Ready-made wife, already conveniently placed in his debt. Perfect.

  That was about the extent of his thought process that day. Josh was so used to going with his gut and trusting his instincts when it came to work, that he’d barreled ahead without thinking of all the ramifications. Like the gimlet eyed-stare of his mother.

  “And what?”

  He fidgeted under her glare. Like a kid, shifting his weight in the plush chair. He plucked at one of the rivets along the arm. “The announcement at the luncheon was not planned...” He trailed off, brushing his fingers through his hair. “I’d just gotten some good news and I got carried away.” More truth. “I was planning on calling you guys.”

  Okay, so that was hedging it a bit. But he always meant to be calling his parents, so that was also technically not a lie.

  “Is she pregnant?” his father asked softly. His mother gasped, one slender hand flying to her mouth. Josh scoffed, rolling his eyes.