Falling for Her Fake Fianc?

by Sue MacKay

  ‘No, thanks.’ That dress was so form-fitting one chip might make all the difference to how she looked on the day.

  ‘Talked to your family today?’

  Her cell phone had been remarkably quiet most of the day. Possibly too quiet. It wouldn’t mean her mother had dropped the date issue even knowing it was solved. She’d want all the details on Mac. ‘I phoned to tell them they could relax because I was bringing a wonderful man to the wedding who I couldn’t wait for them to meet.’

  ‘Wonderful, eh?’

  Naturally he’d pick up on that. He was a man. ‘Don’t get carried away. I could hardly say you were an uptight, pompous type.’

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t.’ He actually laughed and held out a chair for her at a table in the cafeteria. ‘Any mention of the other?’

  As in engagement? ‘I thought it could wait until the last minute. I already turned down an invitation to dinner tonight.’ Thank goodness for night shifts.

  ‘Do you want to wear a ring?’ Mac was studying his crisps too intently. They were only potato chips.

  ‘Are you serious? That would be going too far.’ She was almost shouting, and at the shock on Mac’s face she pulled on the brakes. ‘I figured on saying we haven’t had time to choose one yet.’

  ‘That’s fairly close to the truth, I guess.’ Now he seemed to be interested in watching her again. Which was more exciting? Her or the crisps? ‘You’d better give me the lowdown on what I’m expected to wear to the wedding.’

  ‘Do you own an evening suit?’

  His eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘Yes, mam. And a morning one, some business ones, and others.’

  ‘You’re a suit man.’ There was something about a good-looking man dressed in a suit and tie that made her all gooey inside. Mac had looked awesome in the stylish one he’d worn as Conor’s best man in Sydney. She blamed that suit for losing her composure with him. Along with the dancing, the atmosphere, her friend’s happiness after a difficult few years. But the suit had been the start of her emotions and hormones spiralling out of control. Navy with a crisp white shirt and emerald-green tie to match her dress. Oh, yes.

  ‘You’re looking decidedly dreamy,’ Mac noted. ‘Care to share?’

  No way this side of Christmas. Or any time after. Knowing he’d made her feel happy and safe and even okay-looking that night would be giving Mac ammunition to tell her the opposite. As Steve had done, time and time again. She shuddered. Mac wouldn’t do that. He was too kind. Or was she once again being naïve? ‘More likely that’s tiredness. I was late to bed last night, and up early.’

  Bed. Another loaded word. They were going to be sharing one for two whole nights. After another wedding, where Mac would wear a suit, and she would get all excited. ‘You going to take your PJs?’

  A bark of laughter cut across her musings. ‘The last time I wore those I was ten.’

  ‘They wouldn’t fit.’ A giggle was starting. The idea of Mac in pyjamas was so not turning her on. Exactly the point she’d been trying to make, but the image in her head of him was hilarious and the giggles won out. ‘I can sort of picture you in striped pants and top.’

  ‘Racing cars.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Yep.’ He grinned, a rare sight that zapped her in the tummy and woke up those butterflies behind her ribs. When Mac relaxed the grip on his emotions he was a sight dreams were made of. His handsome face became beyond wonderful, good-looking mixed with fun and care and enjoyment. And sex. His green eyes reminded her of spring fields, and that mouth... That mouth could be soft as cotton wool, as demanding as a hungry child, as heat provoking as a firelighter.

  She wasn’t going to survive the weekend. Not and come out sane at the other end. She was going to be in a constant state of terror in case she jumped his bones or fell under his spell and had, not one, but two sensual nights in bed.

  Rules, Kells. You’ve got rules in place.

  Rules were made to be broken.

  Her phone vibrated. Tugging it free of her pocket, she answered, ‘Hi, Mum.’ For once her mother’s timing was perfect. ‘Did you get the florist sorted?’ Her mother was chef de mission for the wedding since Billy’s fiancée, Leanne, didn’t have family in New Zealand to support her apart from some cousins who were keener on partying than preparing for the big day.

  ‘Of course I did. Now, my girl, we’re dying to meet Mac. What about lunch tomorrow before you both start work? Just your dad and I.’

  Shouldn’t have answered the phone. Once again out of the pan and into the heat. ‘Not tomorrow, Mum. I’ve got to pick up my car, and get my dress from the dry-cleaner’s.’ She’d finished the hem on Sunday and taken the dress in for a professional finish yesterday.

  ‘You making excuses, by any chance, Kelli Barnett?’

  Yes, Mum, and I’ve got more up my sleeve if I need them.

  ‘This week is about Billy and Leanne, not Mac and I.’

  Across the table Mac looked up from the crossword he’d begun filling in. His nod was in agreement.

  ‘We were thinking if Mac met us before the weekend it would be easier for him on Friday night when he’s amongst the whole tribe.’

  Why did that have to sound so darned reasonable? ‘Believe me, Mac won’t have any problem fitting in.’

  ‘Why are you hedging, my girl?’

  Because she loved her mother to bits she gave in. ‘Mac, have you got a spare hour tomorrow to have lunch with my parents?’ Say no, you’re getting your hair done, or meeting with the Prime Minister about a dog, or you don’t do lunch.

  ‘No problem. What time and where?’

  Thanks a bundle. He looked so at ease she wanted to biff him upside of his head. The uptight version did have a place—like right about now. But what could she do? ‘You hear that, Mum?’

  ‘Twelve-thirty at Cardo’s.’ She’d heard all right. No doubt her ear was pressed so hard against the phone it hurt. ‘Looking forward to meeting this man who’s caught your interest.’

  Kelli shuddered as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. ‘Game on.’

  ‘I can pull out if that’d make you happier,’ Mac said in such a reasonable voice that she wanted to curl up and cry.

  ‘What have I done? It’s not as if Mum and Dad are bad people, yet I’m lying to them.’

  ‘Remember why we’re doing this.’

  He’d said we. As in they were together in this pickle. ‘Because I’ve run out of ways to deflect him without being a complete cow, and I can’t do that.’

  ‘So I’m the deflection.’ Mac shook his head and smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Mr Deflection.’

  ‘Stop it, you’re making me feel better.’

  ‘That’s the whole idea, Kelli.’ He glanced down at the crossword, filled in a word, then began tapping the pen on the page. ‘Was there another man who caused you strife in the past for your family to be wanting to pair you off with the apparently very pleasant Jason?’

  ‘Do you need to know this to be my fiancé?’

  Mac locked his eyes on her. ‘I think I do.’

  That’d mean exposing her flaws—before the weekend.

  Mac added, ‘I’d like to know more about you.’

  He sounded so genuine the words just spilled. ‘Two years ago I was engaged to an up-and-coming plastic surgeon.’ An ego with lots of ideas on how to improve her body and looks. ‘No one in the family liked him. He was cold and calculating, but I was smitten and wouldn’t hear a bad word about him.’ Until the day he demanded she have breast reduction surgery and a butt tuck. He explained that if she refused he wouldn’t take her to any of the swanky parties he liked to attend. An irrational fear of going under the knife had won out over her uncertainties about her appearance. By a very narrow margin. End of engagement.

  ‘What c
hanged your mind?’ Mac asked softly, the crossword now lying on the table, forgotten.

  ‘One day he was so insulting about my appearance and other attributes I had to take a long, hard look at him. Didn’t like what I saw.’ He’d made her feel worthless. ‘I’d made a mistake and for a while doubted my ability to judge people.’ That sounded easier than it had been. Still, some things were best kept under wraps, and lots of clever clothes.

  ‘So your family want to protect you from that happening again?’

  She nodded. ‘When I broke it off with him, Steve was furious, humiliated me every which way he could. That upset my parents more than anything and is probably why I’m in this spot.’

  ‘Well, we’re going to prove you’re up to making the right choices,’ Mac concluded.

  Knowing Mac was prepared to go in to bat for her was as if a huge weight had been lifted. ‘You’re saying you’re right for me?’ she asked cheekily. ‘That no one can fault you as my partner?’

  ‘Your words, not mine,’ he laughed, then sobered. ‘If you want to change your mind I won’t stop you. It’s your call.’

  Not so together, then. At the same time Mac wasn’t telling her what to do, which earned him points. ‘We’re still on. For the first time in months I’m excited about the wedding.’ And not all that excitement was down to her brother’s big day. Some of it came from the company she’d be keeping, however temporary.

  Stephanie appeared beside them. ‘Incoming chest pains, tachycardia. I’ve got no one else available.’

  ‘Coming.’ Mac stood and began heading for the department.

  ‘You’re not taking your mug up to the counter?’ Kelli called all innocently.

  ‘Thought you’d do it for me,’ he shot over his shoulder. ‘As forward payment.’

  ‘I think I liked you better when you were serious and proper.’ But she smiled as she picked up his mug along with hers. Mac did that to her.

  * * *

  A little after eleven that night Kelli hit the gym. Running another seven Ks would counter the effects of last night’s bacon and eggs. She shouldn’t have had them, but she’d been hungry and had wanted comfort food to minimise the anxiety beginning to build up over Mac’s role in the coming weekend.

  All the treadmills were in use except for one. Right beside the one Mac was using. Kelli resisted the urge to curse. Hadn’t he gone up to the surgical ward to talk to a patient they’d sent to Theatre earlier that night?

  The treadmill was out. She needed space while she mulled over the dross banging around in her head. The rowing machines were right in his line of vision, a sight she understood too well after watching him last night. Mac was not getting an eyeful of her pulling on that equipment, sweating and puffing like him the night before.

  The cycle machine was it. Her least favourite. The way those bike seats embedded themselves in her backside was horrid and always seemed to leave her feeling like tenderised meat. But sore backside, or ogled butt? She’d take the pain any day.

  ‘The humidity isn’t helping,’ Mac gasped as she passed him.

  ‘Eighty per cent last I heard.’

  ‘You’re not running tonight?’ he asked when she didn’t climb onto the adjacent treadmill.

  ‘Thought I’d go for the cycles instead. Nothing like a good ride.’

  Mac’s eyes widened and he looked at her as he had that night in Sydney. As if he wanted her. Heat radiated off him. Flipping her head sideways, she tried to avoid his need, sure she was giving back an identical message. Her nipples were peaks pushing against her tee shirt, her sex hot and damp.

  ‘Cycling it is,’ Mac retorted, bringing her instantly out of her delirium.

  Thank goodness. Something had to. She was standing in the gym, not outside a hotel bedroom. Right, on with the job. Anything to shut down her mind, put Mac on hold. Ah, put Mac aside for ever.

  Earplugs in and the music loud. Deliberately setting a higher than her normal speed, Kelli shuffled her butt left and right on the seat to get as comfortable as possible and began to cycle, building up the speed slowly. It wasn’t long before sweat ran down her spine, between her aching, thwarted breasts, and had her top clinging to her skin wherever it touched. Yuk.

  Mac stopped running, headed over to the weights, and the air did not feel any lighter.

  Puff, puff. This cycling was hard yakker tonight, for some reason. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching she pressed the button to lower the resistance by two notches. No point in killing herself before the weekend.

  Sometimes she wished she had the strength to ignore the fact she was on the larger side and didn’t have to put her body through all this trauma. Imagine not having to work herself into a sweat ball five days a week. But any time she even half-heartedly contemplated not going to the gym she’d think of Steve and his scalpel. Giving herself the weekends off was her treat, and definitely her favourite days of the week.

  Thirty minutes later Mac tapped the back of her hand and waited until she’d cleared her ears of music. ‘You going to be all night on that thing?’

  ‘Nothing better to do.’ Her thighs were aching and her glutes were so tenderised they were ready for the barbecue.

  ‘You need a life, girl. How about another round at the All-Nighter?’

  Then she’d have to row, cycle and run tomorrow. ‘Best offer I’ve had all week. No, make that since you offered to be my partner.’ Her legs were slowing. ‘Are you finished here?’

  He nodded and slashed at his moist cheeks. ‘Can’t get enthused.’

  ‘Enthused? Over exercise? Are you nuts?’

  Mac’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you feel like that why come here? It’s not as though you’re overweight or in need of a body makeover.’

  Was the guy blind? Thoughtlessly she leaned in, brushed her lips against his, hesitated and began a full-on kiss. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured against him.

  Firm hands were on her shoulders, gently pushing her back, away from that divine man with his lovely compliments. ‘Much as I hate to stop you, we are in the middle of the hospital gym where colleagues are working out—with their eyes wide open.’

  Oh. Right. Of course. ‘Sorry.’ He doesn’t want to be seen with me.

  ‘Kelli, stop saying sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m thinking more that you won’t like the gossip mill starting up about us.’

  Mac was protecting her from the gossips?

  Go, you, Mac Taylor. I could really get used to this.

  No, she couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t. Her family already tried to protect her and look how she objected when they stole some of her independence. ‘Shower time.’

  His mouth lifted. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘See you in ten.’

  ‘Twice as long as last night?’

  She was sweatier than last night. And she needed to give Mac time to forget asking why she might say sorry so often. If she even did.

  She did.

  Sorry appeased people, kept them from giving her a hard time. Sorry didn’t always work. It most definitely was a habit she needed to break.

  Starting now. Tonight. No more ‘sorry’ unless there was a very strong reason, and that didn’t include trying to keep people onside.

  Hey, didn’t Mac say he’d hated stopping her kiss? Forget sorry, think about what that might mean. He wanted more kisses from her. Yes. Mentally punching the air, she headed for the showers.

  * * *

  Mac watched Kelli fork up her salad. ‘Who eats lettuce at twelve-thirty in the morning?’

  ‘Me.’ Chew, chew. Add in a slice of tomato.

  ‘You don’t look half as happy as you did last night eating bacon and eggs.’

  She swallowed and glared first at him and then at her plate. ‘You’re right. But last night was an indulgence. T
onight is reality.’

  ‘There’s not enough lettuce on your plate to keep a rabbit happy.’ Was she a diet freak? ‘You have a figure that’d send any man into raptures.’

  ‘I like to keep on top of my weight.’ Kelli looked everywhere but at him.

  ‘Do me a favour and have something tasty and filling to go with that salad. I’d hate you to fade away to a stick insect.’

  She blanched. ‘Fat chance.’

  ‘Kelli, girl, you’re not fat. You’re perfect. Tall and shapely, not thin and scrawny.’

  She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. ‘Shapely is another word for plump.’

  Reaching for Kelli’s free hand, he wrapped it in his fingers, felt her tremble. ‘Whoever told you that is an ass. Or worse. Personally, I don’t want to feel bones when I hug a woman. I want her warmth and curves and softness.’ Not that he’d done much hugging for a long time. He used to love hugs. There was something relaxed and friendly and caring between two people who were close when they hugged. Like saying the world was good.

  ‘Each to their own.’ Hope tripped through her gaze.

  ‘Well, you’re my partner so I get to say what I like.’ When they called it all off he would still think Kelli had a body to die for. He should ask his mother to start sending her care packages. As if that’d go down well with this prickly woman. ‘Feel like ice cream tonight?’ he teased, aware she’d hate him asking, but wanting to show her there was no harm in indulging occasionally. As long as she was healthy and stayed that way, eating was all about balance.

  ‘I hate you,’ she muttered as she stared longingly at the menu listing a multitude of ice-cream flavours.

  ‘I know.’ Did she realise he was still holding her hand? He should withdraw but this was cool. Cosy. Nice. Something he hadn’t done since... Cherie. Mac sat back, taking his hand away. From another chance at happiness.

  Happiness was good; everyone deserved it. Even he did. Maybe. But when happiness went belly up then... Then the pain was unbearable. Terrifying. Inexplicable. It tore a man apart, left him unable to put the pieces back together, definitely not the way they’d been before.