by Girard, Dara
He leaned back. “It needs some adjustments. Brenna gave me some ideas.”
“She’s into mechanical engineering?”
“No, she uses one of our canes, but it doesn’t suit her so I gave her the Trandor.”
Miles eyes widened. “You son of a bitch.”
He fell forward. “What?”
“She uses a cane?”
“Yes, she uses a cane.”
“Why?”
“She has a limp.”
“She has a limp?”
Hunter clasped his hands together and said in a patient tone, “She uses a cane because she has a limp, what part of this cause and effect model don’t you understand?”
“Was it from an accident?”
“She was born that way.”
“She was born that way?”
“What is wrong with you?”
“You just happen to spot the right woman to introduce to your grandfather as your fiancée and she just happens—the magic word again—to have a limp and use a cane. A Randolph cane. I would imagine Doran doing this but not you.”
Hunter pulled the pad of paper towards him. “I thought you agreed with my plan. I know using a fake fiancée isn’t very ethical, but neither is presenting a man as your boyfriend who isn’t one. We understand each other and I wouldn’t have trouble lengthening our acquaintance.”
“Which means you like her.”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“Yet, you don’t see the angle to this relationship that is obvious to everyone else.” Miles shook his head amazed. “Sometimes you’re like a babe in the woods.” He sighed. “It’s more serious than I thought.”
Hunter frowned. “I don’t—”
“What did she say about the cane?”
“She thought it was ugly.” “She’s being kind.”
Hunter frowned. “At least it functions. Besides I can fix it.”
Miles sat on the desk and picked up a pen. “Why are you working on it now? You’ve got reports to work on.”
Hunter’s voice tensed. “I’m fully aware of my duties.”
He tapped the pen against his knee then a knowing smile spread on his face. “I get it. This is about the plan.”
“She needs a new cane.”
Miles pointed a pen at him. “You think if you present her with the perfect one she’ll fall into your arms and want to sleep with you.”
Hunter sketched a few lines.
“She only promised you one night as a fake fiancée.”
The pencil tip broke. “I know that.” Hunter shoved the pencil in the electrical sharpener.
Miles stood and patted him on the back. “Just try and get some sleep. It helps you think clearly.”
Hunter sat back in his chair and tossed the pencil on the desk. He crumbled up the sketch. Miles was right. She wouldn’t fall into his arms because of this. Besides he couldn’t get it finished in time for the banquet and meet his other deadlines. He turned towards the trash bin then stopped.
Seeing her in pain continued to throb in his mind like a physical wound. If he didn’t re-deliver the cane the image of her on the ground would continue to haunt him. He would have done anything that day to take the pain away. He smoothed out the sketch. He would finish it. Not for gratitude, but because it was logical to finish something he had started years ago. There was nothing more to it than that. He sighed because he knew there was more. He liked Brenna a lot more than he wanted to, but he only wanted to see her as a logical solution to his problem. He could only see marriage as a business transaction. He had to think and be this way to keep himself safe—to keep his heart safe. He wouldn’t have his love rejected again. He’d always be strong and practical—he’d never be vulnerable to a woman again.
***
Brenna twisted and turned in front of the dressing room mirror, watching how the gold silk dress floated around her. “I should not have to buy a new dress for this thing.”
Tima raised a brow. “So make him pay for it as part of your expenses.”
“No,” Pauline said. “Then he may want more.”
“This is part of a bargain,” Brenna said. “He isn’t paying me.”
“He did offer you a dress, right?” Tima asked.
Brenna smiled. “Clever woman. Perhaps I’ll get two.”
Pauline sat back on the maroon couch and crossed her legs. “So he survived your family and your mother was convinced?”
“Completely. He can be very sociable.”
“That’s hard to imagine.”
“He’s a tad arrogant and overbearing, but he has his good points.”
“Yes,” Tima said. “I saw one when he was walking away.”
Pauline sighed. “His only good point is his bank account.”
Brenna turned to her stunned by the cynicism in her tone. “You don’t like him.”
She chewed her top lip then shrugged. “I don’t know him and neither do you. None of us do. I don’t like him using you.”
“I used him.” Brenna adjusted the straps on the dress. “It’s one night of make-believe.”
Pauline looked unconvinced. “Not in that dress.”
Tima said, “It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s dangerous.”
Brenna grinned. “I know.”
“Brenna—”
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a man’s attention even if it’s not real. Especially, if it’s not real. Then there won’t be any awkward moments when it ends.”
Pauline’s green eyes met Brenna’s brown ones in the mirror. “But you don’t want to end it, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” she said easily. She slipped out of the dress and tried on another one in turquoise.
“Just remember that he wants to get married so he can get a promotion that’s all. It’s important you don’t forget that, just in case.”
“In case what?”
“He asks you to marry him.”
Brenna’s heart raced at the possibility. From fear or joy she wasn’t sure. She dismissed the thought. “He won’t.”
“He might. He’s ambitious. He wants a wife. You’re the most likely candidate,” she said with an edge of regret.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“I don’t want you to settle. He’ll promise you the world, his type do. And what’s worse he’ll expect you to be grateful.”
Brenna turned to her and folded her arms, preparing herself for the truth. “You don’t think he likes me for me?”
Pauline chose her words carefully, in an effort to spare her friend’s feelings. “Haven’t you ever wondered why he chose you out of all the women he could have? He’s a man of strategy.” She shook her head. “You’re a success. Good at what you do. You don’t need him. I’m not saying you’re not attractive to men, just that some men are more conniving than others.” Her voice lowered. “He’s not right for you, Brenna. If you took a moment and thought about it, you would know I’m right.”
Pauline’s honesty dampened her spirits. “I know I couldn’t marry him. And I wouldn’t want to,” she quickly added in case she sounded disappointed. She began to change into her clothes. What woman would want to be the wife of such a man? One whose ambition was all consuming? One who was forceful, intimidating, kind, fun, tender? She shook her head. She wouldn’t. She admired him because in many ways they were alike. When they wanted something they went after it. Fortunately, she was in control of whether or not he would get what he was after. She liked the position. “Don’t worry, Pauline. Nothing’s going to happen in one night.”
Tima adjusted her earring. “I think—”
“We know what you think,” Pauline said. “But you’re older and wiser than Brenna. Brenna isn’t you. She’s not a live in the moment type of person. Hunter isn’t really interested in her.”
“He seemed pretty interested when I saw them in the hall.”
“Just because he’s interested in sex doesn’t mean he’s interes
ted in her.”
Tima frowned. “No, I—”
“He’s a cunning manipulator.” Pauline leaned forward and stared at Brenna. “He isn’t right for you. Yes, he’s good looking but so was Byron and he dumped you.”
Brenna shook her head. “He didn’t dump me, we grew apart.”
“Right. He dates you for five years then you break up and within a week he’s seeing another woman. That isn’t fair.”
“Byron wasn’t the right one,” Tima said. “He was a nice guy, but I thought he was a little flat.”
“Byron was—”
“Enough!” Brenna said. “Let’s forget about Byron and Hunter. They’re not important. And as hard as it may be to believe I’m not under his spell. I like him and he may prove to be very useful.”
“There’s that word again. Useful. What does that mean?”
Tima began to smile. “It means I think you’re warning the wrong person. Brenna’s up to something.”
“What are you up to?” Pauline asked.
“Nothing,” Brenna replied. “Now what are you going to wear to the Single’s Party?”
***
The Spring Single’s Party was a success. The Mantron hotel party lounge sparkled with tea lights. They mingled with orchids floating in glass bowls on table cloths the colors of cream and red roses. Brenna proudly observed the singles and potential couples. Pauline was right. She was good at what she did. If her mother could look beyond her singleness she’d agree her daughter had chosen a suitable occupation for herself.
Brenna took a sip of her passion fruit aperitif, pleased she had chosen to wear a periwinkle satin shirt and navy slim trousers. The outfit gave her the right professional look with a hint of casual charm. She had to look approachable. She was on alert, expertly yet unobtrusively introducing people and separating others. Her intuition was in high gear tonight and she loved the feeling. Yet there was another feeling of excitement she’d never felt before as though something was about to happen.
A woman wearing a lime silk dress with wavy brunette hair cascading past her shoulders came up to her with a welcoming smile. It softened the jaded quality of her features that intimidated most men.
“Great party,” Sara said her blue eyes filled with praise.
Brenna returned the smile. “Thank you. Have you made any connections yet?”
“Connections, yes. Whether they’ll be matches, we shall see.”
“As they say, ‘The night is young’.”
“Yes and...” She stopped and stared at something.
Brenna spun around and nearly dropped her glass.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hunter stood in the doorway looking very large, very dangerous and completely out of place. He wore black jeans, a maroon T-shirt and sneakers. He looked as though he hadn’t shaved in days. His sharp predatory eyes scanned the crowd, searching with the patience of an accomplished predator. Soon his eyes fell on her. Brenna swallowed as he made his way through the crush of people that seemed to part as he passed.
“Who is that?” Sara asked. With interest or horror, Brenna couldn’t tell.
“No one you need to be concerned with,” she said, trying to maintain an indifferent air. “Excuse me.” She walked up to him, hoping to stop him from causing anymore of a disturbance. Whispers circled around him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a low voice.
“I fixed it.”
She wanted to be furious with him, but he sounded so proud of himself, the emotion disappeared. “Fixed what?”
He stepped closer. Though he looked horrible, he smelled like cinnamon. “The cane.”
She finally noticed what he held in his hand. “And you—?”
A man with a presumptuous air cut in before she could reply. He looked at Hunter, stroking his red handlebar mustache. “One of the sinks in the men’s room needs fixing. You’d better look at it.”
Hunter’s dark eyes flashed with menace. “Certainly. I’ll use your head as a plunger.”
The man took a hasty step back.
Brenna spoke up. “He doesn’t work here. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Oh, I see.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve...uh..excuse me.” He walked away trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, but it flopped around his ankles.
Hunter watched him leave. Brenna grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway. She pointed to the cane. “Couldn’t this have waited?”
He ignored the question. “You’re going to like this.” He took her cane and handed her its replacement. “Look at it. Isn’t it great?”
The bolts were smaller and the color a lighter silver, the handle was now a deep burgundy and the flat bottom less conspicuous. He patiently awaited her reply, but she could sense the tension in him. “It’s beautiful.”
The tension eased. “What I did was—”
She put a hand over his mouth. “You don’t have to explain.” She removed her hand. “I can tell you worked hard.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Good. Now I’ll leave you to your party.”
She seized his arm before he turned. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“Slept?” He repeated the word as though it were foreign.
“Got in bed and closed your eyes.”
He paused then said, “About three days ago.”
“Three days!” She shrieked. A clerk sent her a look of censure. Heat flooded her face. She lowered her voice. “Wait here.”
Brenna went inside and made her apologies to a few guests, spoke with her event planner and hostess then went back into the hall. But Hunter was gone.
***
She found him in the lobby looking at the aquarium. It covered the length of the wall with fish the size of footballs and the color of rainbows.
She wagged a finger at him. “I told you to wait.”
He watched a fish swim behind a plant. “I am waiting.”
She knew it was useless to argue with his logic. “Come on.”
He followed her through the glass doors. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
He stopped, confused. “You don’t have to. I drove here.”
She looped her arm through his and pulled him along. “Something that I find highly disturbing.”
“I’m all right.”
She unlocked her door. “Drunks say the same thing, that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
He scowled. “I’m not drunk.”
“You haven’t slept in three days. I’m surprised your sentences are still coherent.” She tossed her cane in the back seat. He sat in the car; his knees hit the glove compartment.
He felt around the chair for the lever. “How do you adjust this seat?”
“It’s right at your side.”
“I can’t find it.”
She reached over him and pulled the tab sending them both flying backwards, she sprawled across his lap. She scrambled off of him. “Don’t say anything,” she warned buckling her seatbelt.
His lips twitched. “I wasn’t planning to.”
She started the ignition then pulled onto the main road.
Hunter asked, “Do you want directions to my apartment or are you going to guess?”
“I’m taking you to my place. I want to make sure you go to bed.”
“I could cross my heart.”
“I wouldn’t believe you.” He frowned. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”
Brenna stopped at a traffic light and looked at him. “Your design is brilliant.”
To that he had nothing to say.
***
In her apartment, Brenna went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea hoping it would help him drift off to sleep. She returned to the living room to ask what type he liked and found Hunter laying on the couch with his shoes and socks off.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to sleep.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “Are you planning on giving me instructions? Might work just
as well.”
“No need to be nasty. I have a bedroom.”
His eyes lit up.
“A guest bedroom.”
He sat up and grabbed his socks and shoes. “You shouldn’t raise a man’s hopes like that. The disappointment could be fatal.”
She turned off the kettle then led him into the guest bedroom. She instantly regretted it. The peach and pink decor had the sickening sweetness of an overstuffed cream puff. She hadn’t gotten around to redecorating it after experimenting with a look she’d seen in a magazine. Lacy pillows and a pink crocheted blanket choked the bed while peach carpeting flooded the room. She nudged his paralyzed form. “Don’t look so horrified,” she said. “You’re just going to sleep here.”
“If I can.” He took off his shirt and climbed into bed. One of the pink lacy pillows fell on his head. He tossed it on the ground where is squeaked. He looked at her amazed. “Your pillows squeak?”
“Just that one. I was trying for something different.”
He squeezed the other pillows. “Congratulations, you succeeded.”
His creamy brown shoulders looked oddly delectable in the garish bed. Like the chocolate cake inside a petit four. He finally drew up the covers and laid back.
She looked away embarrassed for staring. She’d seen men’s chest before lots of times. His shouldn’t have a devastating effect on her. Too bad it did. She would see the sleek muscles of his chest and shoulders in her dreams tonight, not that she would complain. “Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
She turned off the lights and began to close the door.
“Wait!” He leapt out of the bed and came up to her. “I forgot something.” He dug in his trouser pocket then slipped a ring on her finger. “Now we’re engaged.” It was an excellent imitation. The cubic zirconium looked like diamonds in the gold band. But she knew it wasn’t just a ring. It was a symbol of how deep into this deception they had gone. She stared at the ring so long that by the time she could think of a reply he was asleep.
***
Brenna didn’t fall sleep right away. She lay in bed listening for every movement that came from the next room. He didn’t snore and wasn’t an active sleeper so there wasn’t much to listen for, just the occasional shifting of sheets or a deep sigh. She liked to hear him sigh. He sounded like a child with a pleasant dream. She lifted her hand to stare at the ring. When he took it from her the show would end. Pauline was right, she didn’t want it to. She wondered if that was the true reason she had invited him home. Was it so she could have him close, create more memories with him before he was out of her life? She pounded her pillow then fell into it face first. No, the truth was much more debase. She wanted him. Pure and simple.