Fiancee for Hire (Front and Center)

by Tawna Fenske

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too.” He grimaced. “Jesus, we sound like six-year-olds.”

  “Or married people.”

  Mac shook his head and turned the car onto a narrow side street. “Is that what this is about? You equate marriage with bickering and blame?”

  “No. That’s not it.”

  “Well what is it then?”

  She bit her lip, hesitating. Was there really any reason he needed to know? Commitment-phobia wasn’t really her problem, but her gripping fear of abandonment had nothing to do with this business relationship. Not if they kept emotion out of the equation, which they’d both pledged to do.

  She took a breath and forced her voice to stay steady. “I just think our story will be more believable if we slow things down a little,” she said. “That Zapata’s men will be suspicious if we rush things.”

  Mac slid into a parking spot in front of a low-slung stucco building and braked into a parking spot. He turned to look at her, and Kelli bit her lip.

  “I don’t believe for an instant that you give a shit what Zapata’s men think,” he said slowly. “I do think you’re terrified of marriage, or maybe just commitment. It’s fine with me either way, since I have no intention of ever doing either. Now can we just put a time line on this fake engagement and be done with it?”

  Kelli nodded, squirming under the intensity of his stare, which was still masked by those damn sunglasses. “Fine. Six weeks. That way if something goes wrong—”

  “Nothing will go wrong.”

  “—if there are any hitches in the plan,” she said with an eye roll, “we won’t really be expected to get hitched.”

  “Fine. Now turn around.”

  The abruptness of the command startled her so much she complied without thinking, offering him her back. “What for?”

  “So I can help you.”

  She felt his hands graze her bare back above the fabric of the wedding dress, and her whole body began to hum with pleasure. He lifted her hair, baring her neck and the tops of her shoulders. His breath fanned her skin, and she shivered.

  “Oh,” she gasped as his fingers moved against her spine. She couldn’t tell what he was doing, but she hoped he did it for a very long time.

  “Definitely very sticky,” he murmured, his mouth closer to her neck than she’d realized. “Luckily, there’s a little extra room in here.”

  He moved one palm over her shoulder, stroking the sensitive flesh at the curve of her neck. Then he moved his hand down, fingertips brushing the tops of her breasts. She gasped as he slid one finger between them, stroking lightly. His breath was warm against her neck, and he skimmed his lips over the back of her ear.

  Kelli moaned and closed her eyes, melting into the sensation of Mac’s hands everywhere at once. He had two fingers between her breasts now, a tight squeeze that left her squirming to feel more of him. He curled the tip of one finger beneath her breast, caressing the soft underside as his teeth grazed the nape of her neck. She arched into him, breathing hard now as Mac stroked her, the pad of his finger just inches from her nipple.

  She gasped again as his right hand moved against her back, nudging her forward so her breasts spilled into his left palm. He squeezed softly, his fingers nimble and confident as he stroked and teased. Kelli gripped the door handle whimpered, wanting to feel those fingers everywhere at once. She pictured them moving between her legs, slipping inside her, probing her soft, wet—

  “There,” he said and pulled his hand from her dress.

  Kelli blinked. “What?”

  “I fixed the zipper. You just needed a little…adjusting.”

  She turned in her seat and gaped at him. “You groped me to unzip my dress?”

  “Usually I unzip a dress before I commence groping. Understandably, I had to alter my technique.”

  He gave her a satisfied grin and adjusted his sunglasses. It was obvious he knew he’d gotten to her, and part of her wanted to punch him for looking so smug.

  Most of her just wanted his hands on her again.

  Before she could reach for him, he reached for the car door instead.

  “Now that you’re taken care of, I need to run inside and grab a gun.”

  “A gun? What, are you robbing the place?”

  “No, if I were robbing the place, I would have said I was grabbing a gun and running inside.”

  “Good point.” Kelli licked her lips, still dazed from the feel of his hands on her body.

  “It’s a gun shop,” he said. “I’m just picking up a pistol I had serviced. You want to wait here, or come inside?”

  “I’ll wait here. I need a few minutes to uh—compose myself.”

  “That’s probably best. I’d rather not have to explain why I’m bringing a woman in a wedding gown into a gun shop.”

  “A wedding gown that’s likely to fall off, now that you’ve loosened the zipper.”

  “Pity I won’t be able to see that.” He smiled. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Hank’s parked right over there if you need anything.”

  With one last self-satisfied grin, he got out of the car and locked the door behind him.

  Kelli settled back into her seat and looked around. Mac had left the keys in the ignition to keep the air-conditioning running, so it wasn’t really hot. Still, the surrounding area looked parched. Parched and hot and a little sketchy. A massive cactus hunched on the side of the road with one branch bent, looking like a drunk guy with a broken arm. In front of the building next to the gun shop, a trash bin overflowed with scraps of food and plastic bottles of laundry detergent and soda. A mangy dog scurried past and sniffed the bin, looking for scraps.

  Kelli peered at the dog, looking for injuries or anything that might require her aid. She was so focused on studying the dog she didn’t see the man approach the car.

  And it wasn’t until he put a gun to the windshield that she realized she might be in trouble.

  Chapter Five

  Kelli stared at the gun, then at the hand holding it, and at the arm attached to the hand, and at the face—

  “Open the fucking door, bitch!” the face snarled.

  She yelped and scooted back in her seat, for all the good that would do. All her years of self-defense and karate and wrestling large dogs vanished at the sight of a pistol pointed at her head. She screamed, hoping Hank or Mac might hear her.

  She closed her eyes, waiting for the gunshot, wishing like hell she’d gone into the store with Mac. He’d been smart enough to lock the door, but would that really stop a sneering stranger with a gun?

  Smash!

  Apparently not.

  Glass pelted her arms and head, and Kelli opened her eyes to see the man drawing his hand back. He’d used the butt of the gun to shatter the driver’s side window, and before she could draw a breath, he yanked open the door and threw himself inside.

  Kelli gasped and grabbed for her door handle, but the man threw the locks and lurched out of the parking lot before she could muster a scream. Tires squealed and bits of gravel and glass sputtered behind them. In the rearview mirror she saw Hank running after them, yelling something into the mike on his collar.

  “Stop!” she shrieked.

  The man laughed and floored the gas. “Nice car,” he said in Spanish, though it took Kelli’s addled brain a few minutes to process the words. “Worth a lot of money. Maybe more than you.”

  She screamed and tried to grab the wheel, not sure what she intended to do. It didn’t matter. The carjacker raised the pistol, effectively ending any plans she might’ve had. She flew backward into her seat as the carjacker gunned the engine.

  “Sit there and shut up!” he barked.

  He glanced at her, then did a double take before flicking his gaze back to the road. “Nice wedding dress. Your husband, he must have a lot of money?”

  “Please, just let me go,” Kelli pleaded, frantically scanning the road up ahead. They were headed east, she thought, but God only knew where they were going. Every
thing was happening fast. Maybe if she could reach her purse and her phone—

  “Sit back and stop moving around. You’re worth the same dead or alive.”

  “Please, let me go—”

  “That’s not the plan here.”

  “Well what is the plan?” she snapped, trying to keep her voice even. “I need to put it in my calendar and make sure my schedule is clear.”

  The man sneered. “You’re funny.”

  He banked hard around a corner, still accelerating. She shot a frantic glance behind them, looking for landmarks, trying to remember which way they were headed so she could alert Mac or whoever they called for ransom.

  If I live that long.

  The carjacker screeched around another corner before pulling a phone out of his pocket. He punched a few keys, then spoke in rapid-fire Spanish infused with so much slang, Kelli understood only a few words, including Town Car, bride, and inexplicably, cheese.

  The man punched the phone off and leered at her as he rounded another bend in the road. “It’s my lucky day. We’ve got a buyer all lined up.”

  “For me or the car?”

  The man cackled, and Kelli felt her skin crawl. Where was her purse? She’d tossed it in the backseat when Mac picked her up at the clinic. Maybe she could pretend she needed a tissue. Maybe if she just reached back—

  “Fuck,” the man snarled as a fruit truck careened into the road ahead of them. He jammed his foot on the brake, and Kelli threw her hands on the dashboard, wondering if she should buckle up or flip the locks and make a run for it somehow. They were still moving fast, maybe thirty miles an hour. If she could just get the door unlocked—

  Thunk!

  Something red splattered across the windshield, and she screamed.

  It took her three seconds to realize she was screaming at a tomato.

  Thunk!

  Another tomato, and another, followed by an oblong zucchini and something that might have been a persimmon.

  “What the hell?” the carjacker yelled, swerving to avoid a hail of flying fruit. He jammed the brake harder, slowing the car to a crawl. Now was Kelli’s chance to make a run for it. She grabbed the door handle and—

  Smash!

  She screamed as more glass shattered, the windshield this time. She threw her arm up to shield her face, conscious of the glass pelting her, the car shrieking to a halt, the echo of a voice she’d know anywhere.

  “Hands in the air right now, or I’ll blow your motherfucking head off.”

  Kelli dropped her arm and blinked, taking in the rush of air through the windshield, the pile of glass on the dashboard, the reek of cantaloupe in her lap, and the sight of her fake fiancé crouched on the hood of the car.

  “Mac!” she cried, registering the pistol gripped in one hand, the honeydew melon in the other.

  Mac kept his gun trained on the driver, but stole a glance at Kelli, his eyes performing a hasty scan of her body. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He set the melon on the hood of the car, but the gun didn’t waver. “I might let this sonofabitch live and call the cops.”

  Mac barked something into a radio on his collar. Before Kelli could ask what he was doing, Hank’s car screeched to a halt behind them, blocking any chance the carjacker might have had to make a getaway. Hank jumped out of the car and marched to Mac’s side. Mac jerked his chin at the driver, who was still frozen in place with his hands in the air and a dumbfounded expression on his face. “Find out who this dickhead is,” Mac ordered. “Common car thief, or someone we should give a shit about. Then pay Pablo over there for the use of his truck, driving skills, and fresh produce.”

  Hank nodded and jerked the car door open. Bright metal flashed in his hand, and Kelli realized he’d drawn his gun. She watched as he hauled the carjacker to his feet and shoved him toward the fruit truck. The two men disappeared around the vehicle and out of sight.

  Kelli looked at Mac and swallowed. “How did you—”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Mac asked, jumping off the hood of the car and swinging himself into the driver’s seat so fast Kelli barely saw him move. Still holding the gun, he began to pat her down, inspecting for injuries. She gasped as his hands moved along her rib cage.

  “That hurt?”

  “No. Just ticklish.” She shivered as his palms lingered there beneath her breasts.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to smash the windshield. I just needed to get the sonofabitch to stop. Does this hurt here?”

  She opened her mouth to pelt him with questions—How did you catch us? Who was that man? Where the hell did you learn to throw fruit like that?—but none of it mattered right then.

  “You saved me,” she gasped, her mouth finally discovering a way to form the words that had been bouncing on the edge of her brain. “You saved my life.”

  Mac nodded once, then dropped his hands. His expression was stony, and his jaw clenched and unclenched in the glitter of sunlight through the missing windshield.

  “That’s my job,” he said. “That’s part of this business arrangement. Keeping you safe.”

  Kelli nodded, still too stunned for coherent thought. She looked down at the pile of shattered glass and mangled fruit on her wedding gown and swallowed hard.

  “I hope you know a good dry cleaner.”

  …

  “So he had no ties whatsoever to Zapata?” Mac loosened his grip on the phone and stared out his office window at the glitter of afternoon sun on the Pacific Ocean.

  “That’s correct, sir,” Hank replied. “He’s got a long rap sheet for carjacking and petty theft, but no connection to our guy.”

  Mac frowned. He trusted the intelligence, but still. He hated the idea he’d put Kelli at risk from more than one direction. He’d spent enough time in Mexico to know many of the American news stories about street crime and unsafe conditions were largely exaggerated. Still, he should have been more careful. Should have done a better job protecting her.

  “We keep two guards on her at all times,” Mac said. “Report back to me if you learn anything else.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry again about losing sight of the car.”

  “It’s not your fault. The guy took off like a bat out of hell.”

  “Still. If you hadn’t jumped on that moving fruit truck and known where to cut the guy off on the highway, things could have ended much differently. How the hell did you figure he’d head toward Cabo?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  Luck. Goddamn it, he’d worked way too hard to leave anything to luck at this stage in the game. No more taking chances with this deal.

  With Kelli.

  “She never leaves your sight,” Mac said. “You, plus two guards.”

  “Understood.”

  He disconnected the call and glanced at his watch. It was long past lunchtime, though he’d skipped the meal and holed up in his office reviewing military briefings and gathering intelligence on the carjacker. It was true Mexico had plenty of random crime, but the idea of Kelli being a target unnerved him.

  He sighed and tucked the phone in his pocket. Probably time to shut down for the day and check on her. He couldn’t remember if he’d told her about their dinner plans for the evening, but he should probably let her know so she had time to get ready. Hell, he needed to change his shirt, since it still reeked of cantaloupe. He tugged at the buttons, shrugging the garment off as he passed the laundry chute.

  He took the steps two at a time and strode down the hallway toward the guest room. The door was wide open, and he halted in front of it, not wanting to intrude.

  “Kelli?” he called. “You in there?”

  “Over here!” came the chirpy reply.

  Mac turned toward the master bedroom, frowning slightly as he moved into his own living space and took in his surroundings. There was the massive, four-poster bed with a sturdy iron headboard. The crimson duvet brushed the corners of the dark teak nightstands on either side. The walls were pai
nted a near-black shade of purple and adorned with abstract paintings and an iron candelabra Maria had found in an antique shop.

  There was a faint scent of jasmine in the air, and Mac followed it almost unconsciously as he moved through the bedroom toward the large walk-in closet in the far corner.

  “Kelli?” he called again. “Do you need help with—”

  The words died in his throat as he froze in the doorway of the closet. Kelli looked up from her spot in the center of the space and gave him a broad smile.

  It was the only thing she wore.

  Well, pretty much. The bra and panties left little to the imagination, flimsy and lacy and made of some sort of pale silk that showed every inch of flesh beneath. The wedding dress she’d worn earlier was long gone, and she wore a pair of sparkly high heels that accentuated her calves and that pert little ass. She looked like the best Christmas gift he’d ever gotten, Mac felt an overwhelming urge to gather her in his arms and carry her to the bed.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  Mac felt all the blood drain from his head. “Think?”

  “About the dress.”

  Mac swallowed hard and gripped the doorframe, afraid he might fall over from dizziness. “You’re not wearing a dress.”

  “And you’re not wearing a shirt. Our powers of observation are outstanding.” She grinned. “I’m trying to choose a dress for tomorrow night. The meeting with Zapata?” She gestured to the garments lining the closet. “You told me I could pick something in here. I hope it’s okay if I try on a few things.”

  Mac nodded, still not completely sure he’d heard her right. Did those even count as panties? They were mostly just string and lace, and unless he was seeing things, she was waxed bare beneath them. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of the bra, and Mac felt his mouth go dry as he looked at her.

  “You’re staring.”

  “You’re naked.”

  “I’m in my underwear. This is more clothing than most women wear to the beach, and besides, we’re engaged. Remember?”

  Mac was having a hard time remembering his name at the moment. He blinked and tried to force himself to concentrate.

  “Dresses. Yes, absolutely.” Mac swallowed, frozen in place, his eyes flicking to the rows of designer gowns he’d had delivered in her size. He felt light-headed. Maybe it was the sight of all that women’s clothing lined up in his closet, or maybe it was the sight of all that woman. He gripped the doorframe harder as she took a few steps toward him, a faint smile on her lips.