Famously Engaged

by Robyn Thomas

  “You’re going to take it to the streets,” Jake muttered. “It’ll be fabulous until you’re besieged by paparazzi.”

  Beth swished the flirty hem of her dress. “That’s why I’m wearing this. Retro clothes will be so much fun for the media to describe: a crimson seventies-style dress that’s short, but not too short. An underskirt tight enough to make the future Mrs. Olsen walk like a lady—” She demonstrated, then spun to make the fabric swirl around her, “with several floaty layers on top to give the impression of being lighter than air. A perfect choice, right down to the scooped neckline and the stiff bow just below her breasts.” She laughed. “How did I do? I shouldn’t quit my day job for stripping, but what about journalism? I nailed it, didn’t I?”

  “Stripping?” Brad sounded horrified, but neither of them paid him any attention.

  “It’s a great dress, but image can’t compete with safety. You can wear anything you like because you won’t be going out.”

  To his surprise, she swiped the keys out of Brad’s hand and dangled them. “I have keys. What’s to stop me from walking out the door and driving off?”

  Brad snorted. “You can’t drive a manual car. That ought to stop you.”

  “I can drive it well enough to get by. Unless Jake wants to volunteer? What do you say, Famous Man, want to bring it down to street level and donate a few precious hours to charity?”

  …

  “I’m giving myself a swift upgrade from lottery-hopeful to philanthropist. I know our arrangement is temporary, but I need to extract something positive from it. I don’t particularly want to be Cinderella, but at least she’s busy. I need some busyness in my life in order to move forward, and what I have in mind for today will require leaving the house and returning home afterward.”

  Both men were staring at her as if she’d lost her mind, but she plunged ahead anyway. “I want to have a hand in what’s printed about me instead of waiting for tomorrow’s papers to find out what they came up with on their own.”

  “Beth.” Jake stepped forward and took both of her hands in his, swinging them wide, then drawing them against his bare chest.

  Being angry with him didn’t stop her from wanting to explore his pecs, but he refused to let go of her hands. “What you’re suggesting is charming, but it won’t work.” Hazel eyes met hers head-on and the pity in them caught her by surprise. “You can’t choose what they’ll say about you, and making yourself available to them will only give them more to work with.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  Brad cleared his throat and waved his arm toward the back of the house. “I’m gonna load the van. I have a football game in an hour so I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

  She summoned a smile for him, aware that it was the first time he’d ever allowed her to fight her own battle. He was usually heavy-handed, territorial, and downright obnoxious, taking his big-brother role to the extreme and conveying the gist of her thoughts without consulting her first. “Thanks Bradley.” Her smile widened as he mimed tearing his hair out. “If you’re hungry there’s caramel apple cake already cut.”

  Jake frowned at their exchange, then shook his head when Brad wandered off. He wound her hair around his finger and she watched as it unfurled. The thick silver band on Jake’s thumb was downright sexy. He had too-long blond hair that was beautifully styled and expensively colored, tattoos, a ring, a job that kept him on the road and a womanizing reputation, but he was more than the sum of those parts. He was also watching her as she silently itemized his faults. Did he know that she couldn’t find any real flaws? Oh yeah, he knew.

  “What?”

  “You’ll wind up regretting it if you go out today. Imagine candid shots of the wind whipping your hair across your face or your skirt up, mocking headlines about Cinders trying to rise above her class, and speculation about how convenient this sudden interest in charity is. Imagine microphones and cameras in your face, a crush of people all shouting at you at once, and the certainty that they’ll take what you say and use it to rip your character to shreds. Why would you want to play a game you can’t possibly win?”

  Pretense dropped away and she shrugged her shoulders in an awkward arc. “I don’t want to play. The game had already begun when you rang my doorbell. You could go outside now and set the record straight, say there’s been a mix-up or a mistake…”

  “No.”

  “I could stay inside all day and feel like a sitting duck trapped in a glass enclosure, but I’m not going to. Our fake engagement was your idea, your fault, and the next move is mine. The whole world’s watching us and I don’t even have a rulebook.”

  “Neither do I. Earlier this morning”—he clamped his entire

  hand over her mouth for a brief second and glared until she gave him the go-ahead to continue speaking—“that wasn’t what I came here for. You can’t read anything into it other than I find you irresistible, okay?”

  “I suppose I can live with that, but I still want to go out and do the deliveries. I’ve spent a lot of time on the sidelines the past few years and I promised my mother I’d start participating. Today I have a choice between grieving in the shadows or doing something charitable with one of the most famous people on the planet. I need to take the option that requires pushing myself and stepping out of my comfort zone. I promised my mother I’d make the most of every opportunity, and that promise is one I intend to keep.”

  He raised her hands to his mouth and kissed them, his voice betraying emotions she couldn’t identify. “It’s a great promise, but the stakes are life-changing and the odds are stacked against you.

  My team will be on the ground in a day or two to advise and direct you, and they’ll get you out of this as painlessly as possible so you can participate next time.”

  She shook her head and stepped back, his low growl of frustration echoing in her ears. “Good advice, I’m sure, but I’m not going to take it.” I can’t take it. My mother said I’ll never be happy while Brad and this house are the only things in my life. And when I look at you, I can see her point.

  “Venturing outside will be a mistake you’ll regret. You have everything you need right here.”

  “No. In here I have a house full of memories that are oppressive because the worst ones are crowding out the good ones until I feel like maybe there aren’t any good memories. On top of that, I also have a fake fiancé, an ex who feels compelled to stick around and supervise, and the awful knowledge that people I don’t know are making up stories about me to share with the entire world.” The woe-is-me speech drained her, but she had Jake’s full attention.

  “What do you see happening if you step out the door?”

  “If we leave here together we’ll confirm the engagement story and I’ll have a chance, however slim, to shape what’s said about me.” She ordered her shoulders to lift in unison. “The outcome isn’t important. It’s probably going to be bad either way, but contributing to the mayhem sounds better than waiting around to assess the fallout.” She held out her hand. “We can drop Brad off at the football field along the way. Want to join me?”

  …

  Jake angled a dark look her way as they waited for a green light several kilometers from her home. “Remind me why I agreed to this?”

  She grinned. “If you can’t justify delivering food to the underprivileged, then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  “A wire transfer would accomplish that.”

  She nudged his arm as the light changed. “The light’s green.

  Money’s good but food is better, and the Communal Larder’s always shorthanded. I’ve donated food before, but I’ve always wanted to go out on a run and deliver it personally. But while my mother was sick, I just never had the time.”

  His mouth quirked as if she’d said something amusing.

  “What?”

  “You have time on the day your home’s surrounded with reporters? Playing cat-and-mouse with paparazzi all over the city makes it right for you?
”

  No, you make it right. “Maybe I wanted company…”

  He shot her a considering look, the stop/start motion of the traffic around them making his hands tighten on the steering wheel and his shoulders tense. “Brad said you never go on second dates.”

  “Is that what this is? Wow, we sure fit a lot into the first date.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “If you wanted company, you’d be open to the possibility of finding it?”

  “In theory, yes, but I feel like an unwanted kitten Brad’s trying to find a home for.”

  A strangled cough emerged from his throat. “You want to explain that to me?”

  “Not particularly.” She huffed out a sigh then relented. “Okay, fine. He’s my personal matchmaker. He hasn’t ever told me how he does it, but I can picture him with a comprehensive spreadsheet on his computer. He takes great care to screen the guys before he passes my number out. They’re all within two years of my age, no jewelry, no piercings, no fake tans, no tattoos.” She swapped hands and continued counting off attributes. “Nonsmokers, clean-shaven with dark hair cropped short, shiny shoes, and a respectable Melbourne-based job. Oh, and they’re also close to their families and interested in a long-term relationship.”

  His eyebrows hiked upward at the long list and she sighed.

  “They sound too good for me and I come across as ungrateful, don’t I?” A shudder of distaste made her squirm. “They could almost be clones from a made-to-order husband factory, but it’s more than that. Brad knows me better than anyone and he’s determined to find someone I’ll tumble headlong into love with, so he gives my dates tips on where to take me, safe subjects to discuss and others to avoid, what wine to order with dinner, what music to play in the car.” She groaned. “There’s no magic, no spark. They’re so perfect it’s nauseating, and I always want to run in the other direction.”

  She clutched the seat as Jake swerved out of the traffic and brought the van to an abrupt halt in a bus zone.

  “There’s more. Say it.”

  Fussing with the stiff bow that sat below her breasts was more appealing than talking, until Jake’s large hands covered hers.

  He’d unclipped his seat belt and leaned close, his muscular body looming over hers. With a hot man sharing her seat, the last thing she wanted to do was talk, but his hazel eyes were intense, daring her to answer.

  “I want a husband and a family more than anything, but I don’t know how I’m ever going to manage it. I’m a complete failure when it comes to dating. I hate it more than anything else.

  The sense of expectation that goes along with dating makes me uncomfortable and I dread the end of the date from the moment we first meet.”

  “Perhaps you’d enjoy dating someone other than your ex-husband?”

  “I do. I mean, I have. I’ve been on lots of dates and they’ve all been disasters, so I must be the problem.”

  “Brad’s your age, right?” She nodded. “And he has dark hair that’s cropped short? He lives in Melbourne, has a good job, doesn’t smoke. He’s close to his family, hell, he was even close to yours. Do I need to go on?”

  “Please don’t.” She laughed mirthlessly. “So all this time, I’ve been dating copies of Brad?” A gurgle of near-hysterical laughter climbed her throat and emerged as a rude noise. “That’s funny.

  Pathetic, but kind of funny too. I just figured they should’ve been my type. I guess Brad thought the same thing. I can’t believe I kept dating the one man I know I don’t want. No wonder I was miserable.”

  Jake’s mouth swooped down on hers and dropped an urgent kiss that was over almost before it began. “Are you miserable now?”

  She inclined her head and smiled at the certified rock god who was idolized by millions, yet didn’t tick more than a box or two on her list.

  Maybe it was time for a new list. Hmm: high-maintenance hair, strictly temporary, looks hot naked. She slid her fingers beneath the hem of Jake’s charcoal henley shirt, tracing his rock-hard abs.

  “Yep. Miserable and deprived.”

  “Liar.” His lips sipped at hers and a warm rush of contentment flowed though her. She would’ve welcomed a feverish end-of-date kind of kiss, but Jake was just playing, making her smile against his mouth and arch a little closer.

  One large hand slid up to curve around her breast, his thumb skating over the aroused peak through the layers of fabric. “You don’t feel miserable.”

  I am. I don’t think I’ve ever been this low before, but I’m glad you’re here. She pressed into his hand and spoke against his mouth. “Maybe I’m just deprived?”

  His laughter prompted hers. “I’m too intrigued to be insulted. I think you’re suggesting that the magic’s worn off and we need to surf again.”

  An affirmative answer hovered on her lips but she didn’t get to share it. The passenger door of their van flew open and a series of flashes went off in quick succession. Beth shrieked and yanked her hand out from beneath Jake’s shirt as several people yelled questions at her from close range, and a sliver of fear slid down her spine as rough hands grabbed at her arm and shoulder.

  “There’s no ring. She’s not wearing a ring. Where’d you meet? How long have you known Jake? Have you met the other members of Five Awesome Emperors? Who’s designing your ring? Have you set a date for the wedding?”

  Thrown by the rapid shift from hazy desire to imminent threat, she regarded the intruders in stunned silence, hearing their questions yet not even attempting to answer them. Hadn’t they seen what was going on? Who’d interrupt a private moment like that?

  Jake’s voice, sharper than a razor, cut through the mayhem.

  “Nobody touches my fiancée.”

  Chapter Six

  A mild curse, suitable for a prime-time soundbite, followed hard on the heels of his gaffe. Referring to Beth as his fiancée was akin to tossing a stick of dynamite onto a barbecue—explosive and rash. He’d been caught up in the fantasy of where their kiss could take them, and he’d spoken without thinking.

  Beth’s mouth curved into a sunny smile that seemed out of place. “You heard the man. Give me a little space.”

  He tried to avert the scowl that threatened to twist his entire face. She was ignoring him, choosing instead to work this small pack of vultures like a pro, winning them over with her wide eyes and oh-so-innocent manner.

  “If delivering this food takes all day, then we might have to postpone the wedding.” She aimed a desperate look at him and he noticed the strain around her eyes. “I’ll need time to plan it properly.”

  He reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “You heard my fiancée.”

  Spreading his hands wide, he appealed to their pursuers. “No deliveries. No wedding. No story. What do you say to a ten-meter radius?”

  Various grumbles of acceptance were drowned out by Beth’s exclamation. “He enlisted the help of the whole football team?

  Tell me he didn’t!”

  A dozen or more men in sleeveless red-and-white sweaters and red shorts were approaching their van and Beth looked set to crawl beneath the seat. Recognizing Brad among them, Jake waved him over to the driver’s side window. “We’ve struck a deal with these people, but we could use an escort if a few of your guys are free?”

  “I told the team what Beth’s up against today and they’re forfeiting the game to help her. Just tell us what you want us to do. Drive in front and behind the van? Do a little crowd control when you stop?”

  “Yeah, that works. We’re blocking traffic, so we need to get moving before our numbers swell. The first stop is Toorak Road.”

  He handed Brad the address. “Do you know it?”

  “It’s two minutes away. Follow the navy-blue Beamer and hit the horn three times if you need anything.”

  Jake followed, relieved to switch the GPS off. He stopped when Brad stopped, exited the van when Beth did, and got a kick out of the reactions he got from the charity workers they delivered food to. He relaxed into it, imp
ressed with Brad’s diligence in maintaining a boundary around them, his opinion of the other man improving as the day wore on. Their small band of photographers and reporters had grown more vocal but they were easy enough to get along with. He’d never faced a whole bunch of paparazzi without the benefit of bodyguards before. Maybe the laid-back lifestyle in Australia was responsible for the courtesy they were being shown?

  Beth grinned at him as he parked the van outside the venue for their final delivery. “I’ve got this, Famous Man . ”

  “It’s our last stop.”

  She put her hand on his forearm and stopped him. “Take a minute to relax. I used to work here so I’ll just pop in and out on my own.”

  “You’re ashamed of me?”

  “The opposite, actually.” Her eyes held a twinge of pain in their depths before she blinked it away. “I’d rather not flaunt you and lie about what we’ve got going.” She pointed to the gun-metal gray roller door covered in graffiti. “One of the Brad-clones runs this place. He’s a really nice guy and we might’ve hit if off if Brad hadn’t tried so hard to push us together.”

  A pang of something, surely not jealousy, arrowed through him and he had to struggle to keep his tone light. “Don’t be long. I’ve got a suspicious nature and this will be the first time my fiancée will be out of my sight.”

  She laughed and socked his upper arm with all the power of a geriatic butterfly. “Quit calling me that when no one else is in hearing distance. It’s not real and we need to remember that we’re just putting on a show.”

  She climbed out of the van, and he rested his head back and closed his eyes as she grabbed the last few containers from the back. A feeling of utter contentment washed over him and he allowed his thoughts to drift. It was easy to lose himself in the present, but his days with Beth were numbered and their engagement was a myth. The whole better-than-a-glass-slipper thing had been a ruse to touch her, and yet she really did fit him like a glove. Her personality wrapped itself around him as surely as her legs had, and the instinctive give-and-take between them would be what he’d miss most when it was time to say good-bye.