Fiancee for Hire (Front and Center)

by Tawna Fenske

  As invitations went, it was hardly salacious. Mac moved toward her, his mind no longer in control of his body as he stripped off his shirt and shucked his pants.

  No sex. Nothing to cloud my judgment, my professionalism.

  He started to reach for her. To his surprise, she turned away from him.

  “Spoon me,” she murmured, presenting him with the naked curve of her back.

  Mac stifled a groan and moved behind her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight as he curled his arm around her. “Spoon?” he whispered back. “Is that a sex thing from our Williams-Sonoma registry?”

  She laughed and nestled her backside against the curve of his pelvis. He lost his breath for a moment, aching to press himself into her. But he regained his composure and snuggled tight around her, feeling every curve of her flow warm against the hollows of his body.

  “Mmm, that’s nice. Sometimes, just cuddling is good.”

  “You’re warm,” he murmured against her neck, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

  She pulled his arm tight around her, her breasts soft against the underside of his forearm. They lay there like that in the moonlight, their breath in sync, their bodies twined together beneath the cool sheet.

  He was pretty sure she’d fallen back asleep, and he started to relax. It was better this way. No sex, no connection to complicate things.

  This isn’t connection?

  It wasn’t the same, though maybe that’s what made it dangerous. He breathed her in, feeling her soft curls catch in his beard stubble. She smelled flowery and warm, and he let his hand slide down over her hip, memorizing the contours of her thigh. The curtains fluttered on a breeze that tasted like sage and seawater, and Mac closed his eyes.

  I could do this forever, he thought, then kicked himself for it.

  No. Not forever. Not even close.

  She turned in his arms, and for a moment he was struck by the idea that she’d read his thoughts. Her eyes held his in the semidarkness, glinting with moonlight and curiosity.

  She propped herself up on one elbow and licked her lips. “Tell me about Jillian.”

  Her words hit him like a punch to the ribs.

  “Jillian?”

  She nodded and reached up to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear. A streak of moonlight bathed her cheek in cool light, and Mac felt his fingers clench tighter around her hip.

  “Jillian,” she repeated, her expression determined. “Your mom told me what happened. About your cousin getting in the car with a strange man and police finding her body a few weeks later. I can’t even imagine how horrible that was for you.” He watched her throat move as she swallowed. “The two of you were close?”

  He felt himself nodding, even though he hadn’t made up his mind yet about answering her. He rolled onto his back, distancing himself from her eyes. Her hand settled in the center of his chest, and something about the gesture made him open his mouth to speak.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “I was five, and she was seven, so I pretty much worshiped her.”

  “Did you—I mean, you saw it happen?”

  He turned his head to the side and met her eyes again, admiring the startling turquoise shade of them. “We knew about stranger danger, of course,” he said. “We both saw this rusty blue car pull up, and a man in a black baseball cap. Jillian said he was creepy.”

  Her eyes held his, unblinking, as her palm rested over his heart. It felt good there, warm and necessary. She stroked her fingers absently through his chest hair, and Mac closed his eyes.

  He saw the blue car. Saw the man with the mustache and black cap.

  “He said he lost his puppy,” Mac said, his words distant to his own ears. “He pointed at Jillian and said, ‘You there, girlie—come here.’”

  “And she went?”

  “No. She didn’t. Not at first.” Mac breathed in and out, picturing the man’s face in his head. The crooked, leering smile. “He pulled out some candy. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, one of those big king-size packages.”

  His eyes were still closed, so her voice sounded soft and dreamlike when she spoke. “So she went for the candy?”

  Mac opened his eyes and met hers. He’d never spoken the words aloud, not to anyone. He swallowed and held Kelli’s gaze.

  “Jillian was allergic to peanut butter. To peanuts.”

  “What?”

  “She never would have gone to the car if I hadn’t begged her to.”

  Her hand froze on his chest. For a moment the words hung suspended in the air, like he could still snatch them back if he wanted to. He watched her eyes flicker as realization dawned. Mac waited, not sure if she’d cry or run or call him names.

  He deserved all of it.

  Instead, she bent down and kissed his forehead. “Mac, you can’t possibly blame yourself for that. You were five years old. You couldn’t have known.”

  He shook his head, willing her to understand. “If it weren’t for me, Jillian never would have gone with him. She’d still be alive.”

  “Wait—is this why you don’t eat peanut butter? Some sort of penance?”

  He swallowed. “It’s fucked-up, I know. It was my favorite treat in the whole damn world, and I begged her to go get it for me. A stupid fucking peanut-butter cup. Jesus.”

  Mac closed his eyes again, suddenly more tired than he’d ever imagined. Kelli’s hand stroked over his chest, a gesture that was both calming and ridiculously sexy. She was quiet for so long, Mac thought she might have drifted off.

  “What happened to him?” she asked at last. “The man in the blue car. Did the police catch him?”

  “The police never caught him.”

  He let the words hang there between them in the semidarkness.

  “But you did.”

  Mac opened his eyes, studying her. “How did you know?”

  “Because I know you, Mac. It’s the kind of man you are. You made him pay.”

  He nodded once. “Yes. Not enough. It could never be enough but—”

  “It’s enough, Mac.” She kissed him on the cheek, soft and sweet and gentle, so unlike the woman who’d had sweaty sex with him on an arms dealer’s bathroom counter. Jesus, who the hell was she?

  She kissed him again, this time on the lips. When she drew back, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s more than enough.”

  Mac closed his eyes, certain he couldn’t handle the tears, the pitying look, the gut-wrenching swirl of emotion bombarding him from all directions.

  But more than anything, certain he was dangerously close to falling for her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kelli didn’t remember drifting off to sleep. She also had no recollection of Mac getting up to pull the covers over them both, then curling his body around hers so they fell asleep twined together like two branches.

  She opened her eyes in the morning to find his limbs intertwined with hers, his face slack and more peaceful than she’d ever seen it before. She watched him sleep for a while, replaying the last week in her mind. Not just the sex, though that had been nice.

  It was the conversation from last night that stuck in her mind, the connection she’d felt winding slowly around them as he’d told her about Jillian. After he’d poured his heart out, she’d reciprocated with her own stories of her mother. She told him about the shrieking anger, the emotional instability, the frightening grip of mental illness. She told him about the lullabies, about ice cream in the park, and the way her mother held her hand when she’d taught her to skip rocks at the beach.

  She’d also told him about the foster homes. About never knowing from one month to the next where home might be, whether she’d find herself abandoned by another family unwilling to care for an unruly teenage girl.

  She looked down at Mac now, wondering why the hell she’d chosen him to open up to. God knows she’d never done it before, not with any man.

  You know exactly why.

  Fuck.

  She brushed a finger over his cheek, consid
ering how long she’d had a crush on this man. Years. Decades, even.

  Had she ever really known him?

  Mac’s eyelids flickered open, a look of alarm quickly replaced by awareness of his surroundings.

  “Good morning,” she murmured, drawing her hand back. “Sleep well?”

  “Very well.” He ran his hand over her hip. “You?”

  “Never better.” She swallowed, wishing she didn’t have morning breath and that her thighs weren’t stuck together with sweat. This was never as sexy as they made it look in movies.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He angled up on one elbow and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific. For fingering you in a restaurant, letting you cuff me to the bed, or telling you my deepest, darkest secret?”

  She laughed, the sound bubbling up from inside her before she had a chance to stop it. “All of it, I guess.”

  He looked down at the sheet, suddenly very interested in picking at a spot of lint. She waited, wondering what he was thinking. When he looked up at her again, his brown eyes were unexpectedly soft.

  “I’ve never told anyone about that before,” he said. “About Jillian, I mean. About why she went to the car.”

  Kelli swallowed, unsure how to respond. “Why me?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She nodded. That was explanation enough. “Look, Mac—”

  The words died in her throat. She wasn’t actually sure what she meant to say.

  I never want to fall in love with anyone, ever?

  I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you?

  Both seemed exactly right and exactly wrong.

  “We’re still good, right?” she said at last. “This is a business arrangement for both of us. I mean, you’re a great guy, and everything we’ve done has been awesome, but I’m not looking for—”

  “Shhh.” He put his finger to her lips, halting the awkward flow of words that weren’t going anywhere anyway. “I’m not planning to vomit out some sappy movie monologue where I announce I’ve fallen in love and I want to get married for real and live happily ever after in a castle made of cotton candy.”

  “I hate cotton candy.”

  “Excellent. Something else we agree on.”

  Kelli smiled, ignoring the funny pang in her gut that was either relief or disappointment. “Look, I’m not the kind of girl who settles down. Long-term commitment, marriage, relationships—none of those are things I’ve ever wanted or feel like I’m even wired for.”

  Mac nodded, his eyes fixed on hers, his expression unreadable. “It’s why I chose you for this mission. Why this thing between us works.”

  “Great. That’s great. Really.” Kelli swallowed. “How about we make a promise?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part?”

  She laughed again, hoping he didn’t hear the hollow awkwardness in it. “Besides that,” she said. “I enjoy spending time with you. I really enjoy fucking you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “So how about we just agree to keep emotion out of the equation. No falling in love. Ever.”

  “Ever,” he repeated, his expression solemn. “Deal.”

  She smiled and raised one hand in a mock pledge. “I hereby solemnly swear I shall not fall in love. Neither rain nor sleet nor snow—”

  “Are you making a vow or joining the Postal Service?”

  “I’m trying to find the right verbiage for a solemn oath.”

  He smiled. “How about over my dead body?”

  “That’s pretty fucking solemn.”

  “As in I’ll fall in love over my dead body,” he said.

  “And I’ll fall in love over my dead body,” she repeated, trying out the words. “Yes, I think that works.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “Excellent.” She forced a smile, hoping she hadn’t just made a promise she was already on the brink of breaking. She reached under the covers, groping for him as a distraction from her own niggling doubts. “Shall we shake on it?”

  He grinned and rolled away from her, taking his magnificent appendage with him. “You don’t know how badly I want to, but I need to go. Duty calls.”

  “Doesn’t it always?”

  “For both of us,” he said, bending down to pick up his discarded clothing. “Big day of castrating the city’s wayward feline population?”

  “I’m going in at noon. Before that, I’m having brunch with Anna to discuss wedding music.”

  “Right, of course—at the café Griselda likes. Good opportunity for her to see you doing wedding planning.”

  “Should I invite your mom?”

  “That’ll make it more authentic. I’ll ask Hank to take you, make sure you stay safe.”

  “Okay.”

  Mac dropped his clothes in a wicker hamper beside the closet before stooping down beside her. “I’ll see you tonight, then. Dinner with Zapata and some of his associates. Wear something sexy.” He kissed her swiftly, then rose and made his way to the bathroom.

  She heard the shower switch on and thought about joining him. She imagined herself running soapy hands over his torso, fingers exploring every sinewy limb and curve of muscle.

  No. Make some space between you. It’s better that way.

  She rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pink yoga pants, determined to uphold the vow she’d just made.

  …

  An hour later, Kelli was showered, dressed, and seated at a quaint café in Todos Santos, sipping an iced tea while Anna and Stella prattled on about wedding themes.

  “So you specialize in offbeat weddings?” Stella asked Anna as she stirred creamer into her coffee. “Tell me about the strangest wedding you’ve ever planned.”

  “Well, there was this one time the bride wore a plaid rubber bodysuit and the groom had this loincloth with studs all around his—”

  Kelli’s mind drifted away from the conversation as she scanned the crowd for Griz. So far, she hadn’t spotted her, but Mac had said she didn’t come every day. The point was to be seen in public as much as possible, playing the role of an eager, blushing bride so consumed with love it practically oozed from her pores.

  She smoothed a hand over her arm, thinking her pores and every other component of her flesh was still tingling from Mac’s kiss good-bye that morning.

  It’s just physical attraction. God knows you’ve had that before.

  Not like this. Never like this.

  “—and then the bridesmaids and groomsmen built a human pyramid while the bride and groom walked down the aisle to ‘Livin la Vida Loca,’” Anna finished.

  Kelli pulled her attention back to the conversation as Stella set her coffee cup down on its saucer. “That’s really something,” she said. “Will you girls excuse me a moment? I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

  Kelli reached for another packet of sugar while Anna’s gaze followed the older woman down the hall. The instant Stella was out of earshot, Anna grabbed Kelli’s arm.

  “Okay, what gives? Spill it, girlfriend.”

  Kelli blinked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your mind is a million miles away. Either you’re contemplating the existentialist philosophy of moralism, or you’re having second thoughts about this wedding.”

  “I always did enjoy existentialism.”

  “Bullshit. I’m a wedding planner. I’ve seen that look before. What gives?”

  “You’re crazy, Anna. I’m fine, really.”

  Anna’s eyes softened, her expression somewhere between sympathy and annoyance. “Honey, you’re one of my dearest friends. You held my hand when I got my first Brazilian bikini wax.”

  “It was only fair since I talked you into it.”

  “My point is, we know each other intimately, so I know when something’s on your mind,” she said. “And considering what I do for a living, I have a strong sense it’s got something to do with this wedding.”


  “It’s just nervous butterflies,” Kelli said, wrapping her palms around her mug of chai. “Planning a wedding can be stressful.”

  “Duh.” Anna shook her head and gripped her own mug. “It’s something else.” She nodded at Kelli’s hand. “Where’s your ring?”

  Kelli looked down at her left hand, almost hoping a solitaire might materialize on her ring finger. “I told you, we still have to pick it out.”

  “You said you were doing that several days ago.”

  “I needed a little more time to decide what I want.”

  “Is that what this is about? You need more time?”

  “Quit trying to psychoanalyze me.” Kelli sighed and poked at a piece of blueberry bagel on the plate beside her. “Everything’s fine. The man of my dreams is pledging to love, honor, cherish, and protect me with fruit for the rest of my life. I don’t even have to handcuff him to make him stick around.”

  Anna jabbed a finger at her. “I knew it! That’s what this is about. You’re afraid of being left.”

  “Are you stoned? I was making sex jokes.”

  “No, there’s a subtext there. That’s what’s going on with you. Your fear of abandonment is making you panicky about getting married.”

  “Or maybe I just want to get laid. Shut up about it, okay? Here comes Stella. Act normal.” She looked at Anna and shook her head. “As normal as a weird wedding planner with a purple streak in her hair can manage.”

  Anna grinned and squeezed her hand. “I’ll do my best.”

  Stella rejoined them at the table and picked up her coffee mug. She looked from Kelli to Anna and back to Kelli again, her eyes studying them like she expected one of them to confess to sneaking out at midnight to grope a boy on the playground.

  “We were just talking about the bridal party and groomsmen,” Anna said, giving Stella her most helpful smile. “Do you think Mac will want all his brothers to stand up with him?”

  “Good question,” Stella replied. “God only knows where Schwartz is right now. I suppose I should have asked Grant about it when he was here. You didn’t happen to broach the subject with them?”

  “She didn’t get to meet Grant,” Kelli said, quirking an eyebrow at her friend. “It’s too bad, actually. I think they would have hit it off nicely.”