The Naughty Billionaire's Naughty Fiancee

by Cat Johnson

  Jon’s plan to buy him time until he turned thirty and took full possession of his trust fund might actually work.

  He and Jon could do a little digging into Jen. If she came from a family of felons or something worse, he’d have to invent a background for her, although he’d rather stick as close to the truth as possible. Knowing his grandfather, the man would dig deep looking for information.

  Bran continued to pull together the details. “You’re right, Jon. We’d need to draw up a contractual agreement. If this leaked out and word made its way back to my grandfather, we’re done.”

  “Agreed.” Jon nodded.

  “And she’ll have to quit here immediately. I can’t risk someone recognizing the new woman in my life as the waitress from the club.” Of course, he’d send her to the salon for a makeover. A new haircut should help change her appearance.

  “Definitely not.” Jon bobbed his head again.

  Bran looked at Jen. She still wore an expression that told him she thought they might be insane. Her body language alone spoke volumes. With the serving tray in one hand, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not quitting my job.”

  “She’s going to need proof we’re serious,” Bran said.

  Jon let out a sigh. “All right. We can accomplish this pretty quickly. My laptop’s in my locker. I’ll draw up the contract. You stop by the bank and get a cashier’s check. I can notarize the signatures when you get back and she signs. Then she quits here. We’ll throw some cash at Tony for his silence.” Jon glanced at the bar manager. “Should you ever bring her here for dinner or something, he’s sure to recognize her. We can’t take the chance that he could say something in front of your family.”

  “You’re right, but we can trust his discretion.” Bran knew Tony behind the bar was the keeper of many members’ secrets. He glanced up at Jen. “And after a hefty bonus from me to forget he ever knew you, he’ll have a better understanding of why you’re quitting with no notice, so he won’t blame you for that. So, what do you think?”

  She snorted. “I’m not sure what I think.”

  “But if we bring you an acceptable contract and a bank check for the full amount of your debt…” Bran let that lure dangle in the air for her consideration.

  Jen glanced back toward the bar, then to the two of them. “If you let Tony know I’m leaving the job because of a deal with you, then yes.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

  Bran smiled and stood, happy Jon hadn’t lost his touch. Once again his brilliant mind and golden tongue had talked a woman into doing something. And this time, it might just save Bran’s fortune and his future, not to mention his sanity. He extended his hand toward Jen. “To our new partnership.”

  She drew in a deep breath that raised her full breasts higher beneath the white shirt. After tucking the serving tray beneath her left arm, she shook his hand with a good, firm grip. “To our partnership.”

  He dragged his gaze from her tits, back to the depths of her eyes as she watched him. No, spending time with Jen for the next few months wouldn’t be a hardship at all. He’d need to get her out of this black and white uniform and into clothing more appropriate for the girlfriend of Robert Branson Welles the third…though, getting her out of her clothes completely wouldn’t be a hardship either.

  “Jen, I’ll need your full legal name and address for the contract.” Jon had grabbed a pen from the bar and paused with his hand over a cocktail napkin.

  So many details to be handled to pull this thing off, but with Jon’s help, they’d handle it. All in good time.

  Chapter 2

  Jen stared at the check made out to her for a hundred thousand dollars and signed by Robert Branson Welles, III. The insane rich guy had rounded the amount up from the ninety-three-thousand dollars she owed on her student loan. He’d actually asked if the extra seven thousand would be enough for her living expenses for the next couple of months.

  The check looked real, not that she’d know for sure, having never held one with so many zeroes on it before. She’d find out tomorrow when she went to the bank to deposit it, she supposed.

  Next to the check sat a stack of papers—her signed contract and what they’d called her backstory, which she was to memorize before she met this family she was being paid to lie to. Lying didn’t sit well with her, but this whole situation was too crazy to seem real.

  The sound of a key in the lock of her apartment door had Jen glancing up. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone the truth, but Tim had been her best friend since freshman year. They lived together. How in the world could she explain how she was suddenly dating a rich guy she’d met today at work?

  She needed to buy herself some time to decide what to tell Tim. Jen gathered the papers and the check and dumped them into her laptop case just as Tim came through the doorway of the kitchen. His bulk dominated the room. “Hey, you’re home early.”

  Jen glanced at the clock. “And you’re home late.”

  “I went to the gym after work.” Tim dropped his duffle bag on the floor where it would stay until she got tired of stepping over it and moved it. “Wasn’t there some party or something at that snobby club you work at? I thought you were getting off late tonight or I would have come right home and made us dinner.”

  As far as roommates went, Jen couldn’t complain about Tim. She could step over the stuff he left scattered given that he also loved to food shop and cook—the two things Jen loathed. They’d been best friends since meeting in psych class. He’d been a sophomore on a full ride baseball scholarship, taking classes for his degree in education. She’d been a freshman working toward a degree in sociology thanks to the state’s student loan program.

  She had gone on to get the degree that was failing her now, while Tim had become a high school Phys Ed teacher after graduation. He’d had no trouble getting a job, and thank goodness for that. He could cover his half of the rent, and a few times lately, hers too.

  Jen thought about the check in her bag. “I, uh, don’t work at the club anymore.”

  “What?” He pulled out a chair, leaned over and covered her hand with his. “Why not?”

  How could she lie to him? The answer was as clear as the concern on his face. She couldn’t. She’d have to trust him to keep her secret.

  It would be a relief to have someone to run this crazy plan past, because her head was still spinning from the events of today. “I met these guys today.”

  Tim’s brows drew low. “What happened? Did they harass you?”

  “No. Relax, Tim. It’s nothing like that.”

  He was always so protective of her. It was just his nature. In fact, Tim would make a good boyfriend if they weren’t already best friends. Jen wouldn’t put that relationship in jeopardy for anything. Men came and went, but best friends were forever. Besides that, it had only been a few months since he’d broken up with the girlfriend he’d dated since high school. Jen had only known Tim while he was taken, so a romantic relationship with him had never even entered her mind. But as her friend, she trusted his discretion, and his opinion. Jen needed both from him now as she reached for the papers and slapped the stack on the table, then handed him the check.

  His brown eyes opened wide as he read the amount. “Jen, what is this?”

  “This one guy gave me that to quit my job and pretend to be his girlfriend.” After seeing the shock written in Tim’s expression, Jen released a long breath. “I guess I’d better start at the beginning.”

  Tim ran his hand over his dark curls and frowned at her. “Yeah, I think that’s a very good idea.”

  Jen pushed the papers across the table for Tim to look at while she launched into the story. The further she got into the tale, the deeper the furrows in Tim’s brow grew. He shoved the check toward her. “Give the money back, Jen.”

  “Why?”

  “The whole thing smells fishy.” He flipped through the papers. “Look. He requires you spend time, sometimes overnight, with h
is family. And what is this cohabitation clause? What the hell? Is this some sick way to force you to have sex with him?”

  “That’s not what he wants.”

  Tim closed his eyes and breathed deep. When he looked at her again, his expression had softened. “I don’t trust him. Seriously, I’m worried about you. Give it back, Jen. Please.”

  Making the decision to do this had been scary enough, but to not have Tim’s support scared the hell out of her. “But I signed a contract. His friend witnessed it.”

  “Who knows if it’s even legal? Tear the fucking thing up along with the check. What are they going to do to you?”

  “Sue me.”

  “Fine. Let them. It’s not like you have anything they can take.”

  “I know. Thanks so much for reminding me.”

  Tim stood and came around to her side of the table. With one hand on each of her arms, he pulled her into a standing hug. “I can cover the rent and the bills for the apartment. As for your loan payments, we’ll find you a new job. Somewhere else, far away from this weirdo.”

  From where her head was pressed against his chest, she could feel his heart beating hard and fast. She tightened the arms she had wrapped around his waist.

  “Thank you for wanting to help me, but I’m going to do this. It’s just too much money to say no to.” She pulled back enough to see his face.

  “Jen, if anything ever happened to you—”

  “It won’t.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you’re here to protect me.”

  “I won’t be there while you’re imprisoned in some mansion.”

  She laughed and stepped out of his embrace, moving toward the fridge in search of food. Now she’d told Tim and they could talk about it, she found she was hungry. “You make it sound like he’s going to lock me in the tower, like Rapunzel or something.”

  He followed her and grabbed a beer when she opened the door. “Who knows? Rich people are nuts. They probably have electric gates and guard dogs.”

  “As opposed to you being my guard dog here?”

  “Joke, but I’m trying to protect you since you seem incapable of protecting yourself.” He scowled, and she felt bad.

  “I’m sorry. I know. And I appreciate it.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

  Tim’s eyes narrowed. Before she could step back, he’d planted his beer on the table and slid his hand to the small of her back. Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his head and hovered just shy of her lips. “Jen.”

  “Tim, don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what?” He was so close she felt the warmth of his breath.

  “Don’t ruin our friendship. Don’t ruin what we have.”

  He pulled back an inch. “My kissing you would do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  How to answer that? There were so many reasons this was unwise, particularly right now in the face of this impending deal she’d made, Jen couldn’t even begin to list them all. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “I don’t think so.” His one hand remained pressed against her back while his other came up to stroke her cheek.

  How many thousands of times had he touched her casually over the years? This time was very different. It confused her and made her consider things she didn’t want to. Not now. “Please. Don’t.”

  “You’re right.” He dropped both his hands and took a step back. Grabbing his beer, he downed two big swallows before looking at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was about.”

  “I do. You’re very protective, of me, of everyone close to you. You always have been. It’s one of the things I love about you. So there’s that, plus now that you aren’t with Beth anymore you’re afraid of losing me too. You’re confusing that fear with other feelings for me.”

  Tim raised a brow. “Careful, those psych classes you took are showing.”

  “Sorry.”

  A cute, crooked smile tipped up just the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay. You’re right.”

  “I’m right? Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before.” Joking seemed the best way to knock the image of almost kissing Tim out of her head.

  “Don’t get used to it.” He pivoted for the door. “I’m hitting the shower.”

  “Okay.” She watched him leave, and then glanced back at the papers on the table. She’d get through the next few months, fulfill the terms of the contract and then…

  Then she’d have to see. Her life had gone from very simple to incredibly complicated, all in a matter of hours. Who the hell knew what a few months could bring? What had just happened with Tim. This crazy agreement with Bran Welles. Jen couldn’t have predicted what today alone delivered to her door. Trying to predict the future? That would be more insane than signing this contract had been.

  *

  “What about this one?” The salesgirl held up the most gorgeous cocktail dress Jen had ever laid eyes on. A rich, dark blue with a deep V-neck and simple but classic lines, it looked as if Audrey Hepburn could have worn it, but it was perfectly in style today.

  She reached out and flipped over the price tag—and felt the blood drain from her face. It cost as much as her rent for a month. “Um, no, I don’t think so.”

  “Try it on.” The tone of Bran’s voice didn’t leave room for argument, but she was going to try anyway.

  “It’s too much. I can’t let you buy me something that expensive.”

  Sighing, he rose from the chair the salesgirl had planted him in with a glass of champagne when they’d first arrived, and made his way over. Grabbing the tiny white tag, he frowned down at it then let it drop. “That’s a perfectly reasonable price for a garment of this quality. Go inside, and try it on.”

  Reasonable was obviously a relative term.

  “All right.” Sighing, Jen took the hanger and spun toward the dressing room. She’d just tell him it didn’t fit and then look for a cheaper dress.

  “And I want to see it when it’s on.” Bran’s order came through the closed door.

  There went that plan. “Fine.”

  Of course, once she got into it, the damn thing fit like a glove. It draped over her as if it had been custom made. She’d never looked, or felt, as good in anything she’d ever put on. Knowing he was going to see the same thing she did, Jen fought back the mingled excitement and guilt that this insanely expensive but exquisite dress was going to be hers.

  She opened the door and waited. The salesgirl drew in a sharp breath. “It’s perfect.”

  Salespeople would say anything to make a commission, but this time Jen had to agree. She waited for Bran’s reaction. He put down the newspaper he’d been reading. The moment his gaze hit her he smiled.

  “Come closer.” He motioned her to come out farther. Jen took a step out. “Turn around.”

  She spun, feeling the fabric float away from her body, caressing her as it settled back into place. Bran stood and moved toward Jen, eyeing her the entire way.

  “We’ll take this one.” Cocking a brow, he watched Jen, waiting for her protest.

  “Okay.” Jen couldn’t fight it.

  “Good. I’m glad you agree. I would have hated to have to point out that the color matches your eyes perfectly.” He leaned lower and hovered near her ear. “Or that it makes your ass and your tits look incredible.”

  Her eyes opened wider as she leaned back to see his smirk. “Um, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He moved back to his chair and picked up his newspaper.

  “Should I pull more formal dresses?” The salesgirl asked Jen, even though they both knew who would be paying.

  “Just this one, please. Thank you.” At least Jen hoped it was just the one.

  “You can move on to casualwear. She’ll need outfits for the entire weekend. Casual dinner Friday night. The dress will be for the formal party Saturday night. Then we’ll need a brunch outfit for Sunday morning. Oh, and
footwear and any accessories you think she’ll need, as well.” Bran directed her, and then raised the pages of the financial section again.

  The salesgirl turned back to Jen. “What shoe size are you?”

  “Six.”

  “Great. I’ll be right back.” She beamed and left Jen alone with the man who had turned into her fairy godmother.

  “Bran.”

  “Yes, Jen.” He didn’t move the newspaper, so she couldn’t see him.

  “That’s all too much for you to buy me.”

  Now he did lower the black and white pages. “Take a guess at how much my suit cost.”

  What did she know about menswear? “The one you’re wearing?”

  “Yes, Jen. The one I’m wearing.” He was indulging her silly question.

  “Um, a thousand?” Knowing how he didn’t bat an eye over the price of the dress, she’d overshot her real guess by a few hundred.

  “Times that by eight.”

  “Eight thousand?”

  Bran nodded. “It was custom made for me in Italy. So you see, a few outfits off the rack for you isn’t a big deal to me.”

  “But it is to me.”

  His expression softened and he seemed to hear her, to really listen, for the first time since they’d begun this insane shopping extravaganza. Bran stood and came to her again. He ran a hand up her arm. “I know that. And I know you didn’t want any of this, or expect it, and I know even when you fight me every step of the way, you still appreciate it all.”

  “I do and I don’t want to sound ungrateful—”

  “Shh. Let me finish. You don’t think you need all this, but I’m telling you that you do. My sister can spot a designer knockoff a mile away. If we go in there with anything less than our A-game, we’re going to be exposed. That means over the next two days you’ll need new clothes, a manicure, pedicure, haircut, possibly some highlights—”

  “But I’m still supposed to be me, just dating you. I couldn’t afford all this stuff.”

  “Sure you could. If you chose wisely and bought good, basic, classic pieces like I’m buying you, you’d have an appropriate outfit for any occasion without spending very much more than if you filled your closets with dozens of items of a lesser value. I bought you one expensive dress. It’s basic. It’s plain. It will look different with different accessories and you can wear it on any number of occasions. It would pay for itself in the number of times you can wear it. See?”