The Doctor's Fake Fiancee

by Victoria James

  He gave her a half smile that had full impact on her insides. “You should probably pick up that crayon so it doesn’t melt all over your seat.”

  She nodded, tossing the crayon halves in her purse, and mentally added, “buy pens” to her list. He opened the door for her, and she tried to control the fluster as she walked beside him to the house.

  He pointed beyond the house. “The back isn’t fenced yet, but you don’t have to worry about privacy. There’s a second porch on the other side of the house with a swing.”

  “It’s stunning,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say. She’d never lived in a house. She’d always lived in apartments. Or not even…

  “Well, I hope you like the inside, too,” Evan said as he held open the front door. Christopher disappeared through the door, and she stepped into the house. Evan’s clean scent and aftershave teased her as she walked by him.

  Her breath caught inside, anchored there by the feeling that this was too beautiful to be theirs. That if she let the breath out, all of this would blow away into nothing. This was just someone’s guest home—for her and Chris, it was a dream house. Gleaming, dark hardwood floors spanned the open-concept main floor. A red-brick fireplace topped with a white mantle was the main focal point of the room, a flat-screen television mounted above. Two plush, ivory-colored sofas flanked the fireplace, and a tufted, red-and-white checked ottoman sat in between. The kitchen with custom white cabinets that soared to what must have been ten-foot ceilings beckoned, and the dark stone counters were honed to perfection. There was a breakfast bar with seating for four and a round white table with a vase of tulips in the middle. The backdrop of the water encompassed the entire rear wall, framed to perfection with the large patio doors.

  She shook her head. “This is breathtaking, Dr.…Evan.”

  He shot her a smile. It was casual and to him must have meant nothing, as they did, but she felt it glide right through her body. How had this man come into their lives? “I’m glad you like it. Hey, Christopher, there are two bedrooms upstairs. You can take the smaller one and let your mom have the large one okay?”

  Christopher jumped up and down. “Can I go up, Mommy?”

  She nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed his backpack and tore up the stairs.

  “I can help you unload your car, and then we can get back into town for the shopping,” he said already walking to the door.

  Grace’s feet were firmly planted to the ground, the definite feeling that this wasn’t going to pan out holding them there. Nothing like this had ever happened to her.

  It must be a mistake, and the sooner it was rectified, the better. The last thing she wanted was Christopher getting attached and then having to rip him away from this. This was a home that as much as she wished she could provide for her son, she could not. “Evan, there is no way the amount of money I told you we could pay for rent would cover a place like this.”

  He just smiled again, this time his expression softening. “Of course it can. My brothers are builders, and they restored the property—along with Holly, whom you just met. This house is vacant while it’s up for sale, and they’re not collecting any rent at all. Trust me, it’s fine. There might be the odd showing, but you’ll be given lots of notice. Nothing to worry about. You can stay here as long as the house is up for sale. And in Red River, a place like this might take a year to sell. You might as well enjoy it.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her and sighed. “Okay, well if they ever need us out sooner or anything, it’s fine. We can find something else. I just don’t want to take advantage of their generosity. This is so much more than we need.”

  “Okay.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Uh, here’s a two-week advance—”

  “Advance?” Grace stared at the envelope he held out.

  He nodded, and she accepted it when he prompted again. His blue eyes were determined, the set of that jaw the same.

  “You don’t need—”

  He shrugged. “I know. It’s not a big deal.”

  This was awkward…and humiliating. She focused on the river over his shoulder. “It’s because of what Christopher said. Listen you don’t need to feel sorry for me; we’re totally fine. That story was completely dramatized—”

  “Grace, it’s just an advance; it’s not a gift. You’re relocating. There are added expenses involved. Don’t think twice about it.”

  She swallowed and crossed her arms. She couldn’t turn that down, regardless of how embarrassed she was. “Thank you.”

  Something flickered across his eyes, but then he nodded. “You’re welcome. Why don’t you have a look upstairs, and I’ll empty out your car for you?”

  He was too much. Her gaze quickly darted to the large, bay window that overlooked the front yard. The towering oak trees and meticulous landscaping were perfect. Everything was perfect here. Except her crappy little car parked next to Evan’s BMW. “Um, you know I don’t mind going to the car.”

  “Grace, really it’s fine. Have a look around the house, see what Christopher thinks, and I’ll bring in your things. Then we can go shopping.”

  If there was a male fairy godmother, it would be him. Although there wasn’t really anything fairylike about the man. No, he was all lean lines and muscle. And there wasn’t even anything really soft about the way he spoke to them. It was all in his casual actions, as though what he was doing was merely second nature. She had never been around a man like him. The memories she had of her father were vague, almost dreamlike, and there were no defining features or moments with him. Even Brian…they’d been so young, barely past their teens when they were together. And then he’d turned out to be such an incredible ass. Whatever redeeming qualities the man had went out the door when he did.

  Evan Manning was every inch a man. The kind that a woman like her had no business fantasizing about.

  “Mommy, you gotta come upstairs and see this! Two bathrooms up here!”

  Of course, her son would be blown away by this. The entire upstairs was probably double the size of their apartment. And this was just the guesthouse for the main residence. But there was no reason to be mortified, because Evan wasn’t even listening, his head bent as he scrolled through his phone. She looked up to see Christopher’s head dangling over the railing. “I’m coming, Chris,” she called up.

  She walked up to Evan and extended her hand. “Um, here are my keys, but I can—”

  “Thanks,” he said absently, taking the keys from her.

  His soft touch sent jolts of deep, powerful awareness through her. But only her, because he was already walking out the door while she was standing still like an idiot who’d never even been around a man—and trying not to check out his butt.

  “Hurry up, Mommy. You gotta see your room!”

  Grace climbed the stairs, shocked by how soft and plush the carpet felt beneath her feet. Tears pricked her eyes as she saw her son run across to a pale green bedroom with soaring ceilings and a massive window. She turned her head down the hall, slowly walking to the master bedroom. It was like something out of a magazine. This Holly woman had designed all of it? There was a fireplace and a huge, four-poster bed. All the furniture was dark, and the bright white duvet invited her to flop down and take a long, long nap. She was almost afraid to touch anything.

  She walked over to the windows, holding her breath as she spotted Evan below. He was pulling bags out of their car. Most of their things were in plastic shopping bags, and she groaned out loud. What must he think of them? How different were they? Whoever these people were, the Mannings had welcomed them into this town like no one ever had. If only her mother were still here to share this with them.

  …

  Evan leaned against his car, waiting for Grace and Christopher to walk over to him once they were done parking their car. This entire situation was becoming slightly more complicated—and important. First off…Grace: she was gorgeous, in a completely accidental, not-even-trying-to-be kind o
f way. It was going to be difficult to ignore her, working with her day in and day out. There was something about her that went beyond the physical, because hell, hard as he tried, it was definitely impossible to check her out in the baggy clothes she wore. But there was a steely strength that he couldn’t miss in those deep green eyes.

  And then that made him think of what her kid had said about that night in the park in their car. And that made his gut clench. Just the thought of the two of them alone, in the city. And it made him want to find Chris’s father and bash his face into a wall for not being around or giving them financial help. And hell if that wasn’t problem number two: why did he care so much?

  Their reactions to things—like the sense of wonder in Christopher’s face at the house or the way he oohed and ahhed about Evan’s car—assured him he’d made the right call by giving her that advance on her salary. Their clothes weren’t expensive, and they were worn. Her car had been nothing but scrap metal, and when he’d taken out their belongings, most of them had been in shopping bags.

  Grace was the complete opposite of the type of woman he was normally attracted to. First off, having a kid was like red-alert level for him to back off. Because women with kids would want things from him that he wasn’t willing to give to anyone. And he was not father material.

  The other thing about Grace that he’d never admit out loud was that he usually dated women who were more…accomplished. He liked to be challenged, intrigued…yet, there was something he caught in her eyes every now and then that made him wonder what her secrets were. There was a wisdom in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore. Well, he was going to have to ignore it, because there was no way he could get involved with a woman with a child.

  Evan pushed himself off from the side of the car as problem number three came barreling toward him at top speed: Christopher. This kid…he hadn’t counted on how much he wouldn’t be irritated by him. But he needed to remind himself—he had a strict no-single-mom policy in effect. And he was going to remind himself of that, every day when Grace walked through that office door.

  “Here’s the place,” Evan said pointing to the sign that read, My Sister’s Closet. “That’s the store everyone in town goes to. Well, the women anyway. It’s been here since before I was born. It has everything. The only thing is.” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck, “the owner is a bit crazy. So let’s not dillydally in there. Because her sister is even crazier, and if she comes in—”

  “Wait,” Grace said, grabbing hold of his arm. He turned around, and she quickly released her hand. He was irritated that the innocuous touch sent a jolt of awareness through him. “I can’t do this.”

  Dread gurgled in his stomach. Complicated. He knew she’d be complicated. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t have you pay for a new wardrobe. It doesn’t feel right, especially after you just gave me an advance. Maybe I can use that money—”

  “No. This was the deal—”

  “It’s too much. I can’t accept all of this.”

  He had to respect her wanting to pay. But there was no way he’d agree to that. He lowered his voice so her son couldn’t hear. “What is it you object to?”

  She swung her hair over her shoulder, and he knew he shouldn’t notice the way the sun caught the lighter shades of brown, the way it was slightly wild. “I can’t have a man just buying me clothes like I’m some charity case. I may be going through a bit of a rough time right now, but it doesn’t mean I’m desperate.”

  Embarrassment clung to her words, and he had to respect her pride. “Look at it as purely a business arrangement. Remember, you’re the one doing me a favor,” he said, gentling his voice. Her green eyes left his and landed on her son, who was presently leaping over sidewalk cracks. Her chin wobbled once as she stared at her kid, and his dread turned to all-out fear when he detected the possible onslaught of tears, but she pulled herself together, thankfully.

  After a few moments, she nodded and then started fumbling through her giant bag. “Okay. Thank you. And let’s just keep it to a minimum. I don’t want anything extra. Maybe I should make a list.”

  He held open the door. “No time for lists. Let’s go.”

  “Chris,” she called waving her son over. “Best behavior, okay?”

  His head bopped up and down.

  “Come on,” Evan said and took her hand. He had no idea why he did that. But he felt like she needed support. Yes, support, that must have been the reason. The feel of her soft, smaller hand in his sent a jolt straight to his gut. The bells jingled as the door closed behind them, and Grace stepped inside the colorful boutique, slowly extricating her hand from his. He didn’t have time to analyze why he was disappointed that she pulled away from him, because the quiet store was suddenly bombarded by the voice that seemed to follow him wherever he went in this damn town.

  “Woo-hoo! Evan Manning is that you?”

  Evan swallowed his curse. Eunice Jacobs would be the death of him. He bent down to whisper in Grace’s ear and was caught off guard by the scent of her shampoo or perfume or whatever it was that suddenly made him aware of her on an uncomfortable level. He forced himself to focus. “That’s the owner’s crazy sister—”

  “It is you,” Mrs. Jacobs yelled in a high-pitched voice. In typical fashion, she shuffled over to them, her nutty leopard-print dress billowing out around her. Like she needed loud clothing. Evan glanced down at her foot and then looked away. He should probably ask her how she was feeling.

  “And who are you, my dear?” The woman peered at Grace through her glasses.

  Grace extended her hand and smiled as Mrs. Jacobs shook it as though it would be the last handshake of her life.

  “Mrs. Jacobs, this is Grace and her son—”

  Christopher poked his head out from a clothing rack. “How do you do? I’m Eunice Jacobs.”

  Grace gave her a warm smile. Poor, unsuspecting Grace. Someone was going to have to give her a crash course in identifying the local crazies. “Nice to meet you. This is my son, Christopher.”

  “We’d love to stay and chat, but we’re in a hurry. We need a bunch of clothes.” Evan was looking around the store, wishing for another salesperson or some act of God that might expedite what would now be a very agonizing experience. “Is there anyone else here that might be able—”

  “Nope, this is your lucky day. Just me this morning filling in for Sally. You know, Christopher, I used to know Dr. Evan when he was just a baby.”

  Evan held his breath. Mrs. Jacobs had the capability of making grown men cry with embarrassment. He had the unsettling premonition that if he didn’t stop her, he’d be one of those men in about three minutes.

  “Yup, that’s right,” he said, flashing them a quick smile, trying to intervene before…

  “And you know what else, Christopher?” Mrs. Jacobs asked, sidling up beside the boy, who seemed captivated by the woman’s over-the-top screechy voice. “Once, when I was visiting Dr. Evan’s mommy, Evan ran through the kitchen in just his diaper, and then tore it off—”

  “Mrs. Jacobs,” Evan interrupted, his throat constricting so tight he could barely speak. “We’re in a big hurry. Can you please help Grace?” he asked, his teeth clenched so tight he didn’t know if his words were even coherent.

  “Why yes, I’ll be more than glad to help out, Grace. Now, dear, the store is divided up into sections. We have everything from casual to formal and lingerie. So you just tell me what you need, and I’ll advise accordingly.”

  “Choose the opposite of whatever she suggests,” Evan whispered in her ear after Mrs. Jacobs turned. Hangers scraping against racks saved them from being heard. Mrs. Jacobs held up a neon-orange dress that looked like someone vomited ruffles and sequins all over it.

  “Wow that’s so cool! It’s like a Halloween costume. Mommy, get that one.”

  Evan choked as Christopher jumped up and down.

  “I’m actually looking for something a little more…subdued,” Grace said,
taking a small step back from the obscene gown and bumping into him. He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. He probably should have put distance between them, but again he was caught off guard by how good she felt. Before he could be pissed off by his growing attraction to his secretary and fake fiancée, she’d already moved away from him.

  Mrs. Jacobs placed the offensive clothing back on the rack. “Well, why don’t you begin by telling me what type of events you need the clothing for?”

  “A wedding, a business casual wardrobe, and a hospital gala.”

  “And would this wedding be mine?”

  Grace looked over at Evan. He nodded, forcing his lips into what he thought would pass for a smile. He tuned out of the conversation, staring out the window. If either of his brothers saw him shopping for dresses with Mrs. Jacobs buzzing around, he’d never live this one down. He glanced over at Chris who was climbing through the clothing racks. Couldn’t blame the kid a bit.

  “…I know you’re probably thinking I’m too old to get married. But I’m not. Heck, some days I still think I am young. But it’s Bill that makes me feel like that. After Bill had all these health problems these last few years, we kept delaying and delaying the wedding. Finally, when we got the news that his heart just wasn’t recovering as the doctors had hoped, we said, ‘To hell with this! Let’s just do it,’” Eunice said, the ferocity in her voice making Grace jump.

  “That is one of the sweetest things I’ve heard. Well, congratulations, I’m so happy that I’ll be a guest,” she said.

  “Oh, my dear we are kindred spirits, kindred! We’re going to have so much fun today. I’ll tell you all of Dr. Evan’s little secrets while you shop.”

  Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed some kind of divine intervention. He was even willing to ask about the foot.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. “I need to take this phone call,” he said. It was Medcorp. Probably confirming their appointment for next week. He was going to be meeting with the president and VP, Bryce Lambert. Now that Grace was in the picture, it would be great to casually mention his bride-to-be and soon-to-be stepson. Since Lambert was so family-obsessed, Chalmers’s practice would add to the image Evan was trying to push. He eyed the front of the store; he needed to get away from Eunice’s voice and prying ears.