Rent a Millionaire Groom

by Judy Christenberry

  “Sure. But I’m waiting for George to bring back my credit card.”

  Rather than just stand there like an idiot, she sat. “Okay.”

  George instantly appeared, and James signed the ticket.

  She popped up like a jack-in-the-box as soon as he finished writing.

  “You are in a hurry, aren’t you,” he said, frowning.

  “I have an early class tomorrow.” And a faulty resistance system for handsome men, apparently.

  “Okay. So our next date—I mean, research meeting, should be Friday night, so you can sleep late the next morning.”

  “But today is Wednesday. We don’t need to meet that often, do we?” she asked, hoping she was hiding her concern.

  “Only if you want to convince your sisters. We still have a lot to learn about each other.”

  She supposed that was true. It seemed to her he’d spent most of his time talking to her friends, so she didn’t think it was her fault they had to go out more often.

  When they got in the car and he’d backed out into traffic, she said, “What’s your favorite color?”

  He looked at her, surprise on his face. Then, with a smile, he said, “Green.”

  She turned bright red since she was wearing green and he was staring at her sweater. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “And yours?”

  Her favorite color was green, too, but she didn’t want to say that now. He’d think she was just saying that to agree with him.

  “Red,” she said firmly. “Red is my favorite color.”

  “I’m not surprised. It matches your cheeks,” he pointed out, a grin on his lips.

  She hoped he didn’t remember Daisy’s comment about her lies.

  “Are you a morning person, or a night person?” she asked, hoping a change of subject would help her equilibrium.

  “Do I have to be one or the other?”

  That response startled her. “Isn’t everyone?”

  “I guess I’m more night than morning, but I don’t like to sleep late. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

  “And I suppose you think people who do are lazy?”

  He took his gaze off the road, frowning at her. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

  “No! I just— People who— Never mind.” She crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing more.

  They finished the drive in silence. Fortunately it wasn’t a long drive.

  After killing the motor, he partially turned toward her. “I take it you require a lot of sleep?”

  “I need eight hours, like normal people.”

  “That means you’re a night person, right? You stay up too late and then have trouble getting up. So we’ll tell your sisters our being together works well because I can get you out of bed in the mornings,” he said with a smile.

  Elise stared at him in horror. “We’ll do nothing of the sort!”

  “Why? Surely you don’t think they’ll believe we’re not sleeping with each other. We’re not exactly teenagers.”

  “I suppose you think sex should be a part of dating?” She tried to keep her outrage under control.

  “If there’s no sexual attraction, there won’t be an engagement. If they’re going to believe us, they have to think I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  “I’m not sure you’re that good an actor,” she snapped.

  His chuckle surprised her, and she glared at him.

  “Sweetheart, that part doesn’t require any acting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman. I’m a man. We men are drawn to beautiful women. And you look damn good in jeans.”

  “I don’t— They’re old.”

  “And fit you like a glove. It was a pure pleasure to follow you around tonight.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she knew she’d be so self-conscious when she got out of the car, she’d scarcely be able to walk.

  “Is sex all you ever think about?” she asked, hoping to stop this conversation.

  “Nope. But it’s nice to consider.”

  “There are other things more important. Like…” She thought desperately. “Like, are you a Republican or a Democrat?”

  “You choose your men based on their political preferences?” he asked, incredulity in his voice.

  “No! But it’s something I should know.”

  “Okay. I’m neither. I vote based upon the candidate, not the political party.” He smiled. “How about you?”

  “Me? Uh, I’m—” What could she say? She did the same. “Me, too,” she mumbled.

  “What a relief. We can check that one off the list. What else?”

  “Why do I have to come up with all the questions? You should ask me about things that are important to you.” Anything to get herself off the hook. Because her mind was a blank.

  “Okay. Do you want children?”

  She almost choked. She wouldn’t have expected that question in a million years. “I said I wasn’t interested in marriage!”

  “That wasn’t the question.”

  “Yes, it is. Because, like Daisy, I wouldn’t choose to be a single parent. So that eliminates the prospect of children.” She tried to keep any sadness out of her voice. The past few years, when she played with her nieces and nephews, a longing she tried to keep buried rose in her. But she’d accepted that she would never hold her own child in her arms.

  “But what if someone in your family asks us about our plans to have children?”

  “Well, to appease them, just say we want children but we don’t know when or how many.”

  “Why are you so against marriage? Didn’t your parents have a happy marriage?”

  She definitely didn’t like this line of questioning. “Yes, they did. I want to know your shoe size.”

  He blinked several times, drawing attention to his blue eyes. “My shoe size? Is there some psychological connection that I’m missing?”

  She thought she’d pass out. Shoe size had been the first thing to come into her head, but women whispered about the shoe size being representative of the size of a certain other organ. Did James know that? She thought she’d die of embarrassment.

  “I—I thought my sisters would expect me to know that.”

  “Well, for your sisters’ edification, I wear a ten and a half. Oh, and I wear an extra-large shirt.”

  It was her turn to stare at him. Why would she need to know that?

  “In case you’re buying me a birthday present,” he added, with a cheeky grin. “Actually, I thought you’d ask the more important question.”

  When he didn’t continue, she asked, “What question?”

  “Boxers or briefs?”

  Elise tried to keep her chin up, fighting the embarrassment filling her, but she knew her cheeks gave her away. “Well?”

  “Briefs. And you? Do you wear a thong?”

  She’d stepped right into that one. Without warning, she opened the car door and got out. Then she leaned back in. “Never!” was her terse reply.

  But he had the last word. Before she could slam the door, she heard him say in that deep, silky voice, “Too bad.”

  Chapter Four

  “This is not going to work!” Elise assured her friends, pacing the floor.

  After she’d reached her apartment, she’d called Phoebe and Daisy to come join her. She needed some reassurance.

  “What’s not going to work?” Daisy asked. “He’s certainly handsome enough.”

  “Yes,” Elise agreed with a sigh.

  “Charm just oozes out of him,” Phoebe added. “If he goes professional, he’s going to be an enormous hit.”

  “Yes,” Elise agreed again.

  “So why won’t he work?” Daisy asked, her gaze fixed on Elise.

  “I’m the weak link. He makes me feel self-conscious. My sisters will never believe that I attracted that kind of man. It just won’t work.” She had to come up with some reason to break off the agreement. Even if she had to pay him th
e full amount. Even if she had to go to the wedding alone.

  “Maybe his method acting will help.” Phoebe’s grin alerted Elise.

  “Exactly what does that term mean?” James had mentioned it several times, but she really hadn’t paid much attention. Phoebe’s smile seemed to indicate it was important.

  “Um, in general terms, you live the part, pretend it’s really you.”

  “Live the part?” Elise asked, fear rising in her. The man was going to pretend he was really engaged to her? Oh, Lordy, she was in big trouble. If he touched her…kissed her— “I can’t do it!”

  Daisy was looking confused. “Why would method acting make you think you can’t go through with it? I would think that would make it easier.”

  Elise couldn’t answer.

  Phoebe did. “I think Elise is afraid it will become too real for her. He might break her heart when it’s over. That’s why a lot of actors fall in love with their co-stars. They pretend to fall in love and, voilà, they are.”

  “Oh.” Daisy shot a sympathetic look Elise’s way.

  “Yeah. And then, when it’s over, a good method actor moves on to his next part. We amateurs aren’t as skilled in—in moving on.” Elise didn’t think she would ever forget James Dillon, even now after one “research” evening. She wasn’t falling in love. No, not that. But—but she could.

  “I wish I could find someone like James,” Daisy said with a sigh.

  Elise saw a chance to break the agreement. “You’re right. I’ve been too selfish. I’ll tell James you have first dibs on any men we find and—”

  “No! You heard him. He’s not interested in being a father. And an actor really isn’t a good prospect. I just mean someone who—a man who knows what he wants. A man who finds his own way in the world. I’m tired of men who are looking for a second mother.”

  “He said he goes home to eat!” Elise protested, glad to find something to complain about.

  “Daisy’s right. He won’t do for her. Besides, she’s agreed to go out with the guy I found. Maybe he’ll do the trick.” Phoebe smiled at Daisy.

  Daisy returned the smile, but Elise thought they both looked doubtful. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Both friends said, “Nothing!” at the same time.

  “I mean, tell me about him. That’s what I meant.”

  Phoebe immediately launched into a sales campaign. “He’s divorced, has a twelve-year-old daughter. That’s how I met him. He brought his daughter to my class for young teenagers on how to apply makeup, so they don’t look like a Las Vegas show-girl. And he’s a dentist, very handsome.”

  “He puts his hands in other people’s mouths,” Daisy muttered.

  “He wears gloves, Daisy. And you haven’t met him. He’s charming.”

  “As charming as James?” Daisy countered.

  Phoebe made a face. “Not many men are as charming as James. But he’s pleasant. Give him a chance.”

  “Okay, okay. I said I’d go out with him. Friday, right?” Daisy asked.

  “Right. When are you going to see James again?” Phoebe asked Elise.

  “Friday.”

  “Hmm. Guess I’m on my own Friday night. Maybe I’ll see if the Madisons will take pity on me,” Phoebe said with a grin.

  Elise smiled back. The elderly couple who lived just down the hall from Phoebe loved feeding their single neighbors. The three women had a standing invitation for dinner. The only cost was listening to stories of the Madisons’ beloved grandson, Wyatt. Since none of them had ever met Wyatt, they had to take his besotted grandparents’ word on how perfect he was.

  “Maybe you should discuss Daisy with them. They’ll immediately offer Wyatt as a solution, and our problems will be solved!” Elise said with a chuckle.

  “I don’t think I could possibly be perfect enough for Wyatt,” Daisy protested, laughing.

  His perfection had become a standard joke among the three of them. When one of them intended to do something the other two thought was crazy, they always invoked Wyatt as a naysayer.

  Phoebe looked pensive. “You know, with all their talk about Wyatt, I don’t even know what he does for a living. They’re always talking about his childhood. Maybe because that’s all they know. He certainly doesn’t show up often. And they’re such sweet people.”

  They all nodded, but Elise’s mind was focused on her own difficulties. Neither of her friends had shown her how she could get out of the situation she’d created.

  In truth, she knew there wasn’t a way out. Unless she was willing to go to Sharon’s wedding alone. And she wasn’t. So she had to risk her heart to stay sane—only, risking her heart would drive her crazy.

  What was a girl to do?

  FOR THE NEXT two days, James chuckled often as he remembered the conversation he’d shared with Elise—and anticipated their Friday evening together.

  “What’s put you in such a happy mood?” MaryBelle asked as she served him breakfast Friday morning.

  James immediately wiped away the smile. “Me? It’s a beautiful day.”

  “We live in Phoenix, James. Most every day is beautiful, but that’s never stopped you from acting like a grouchy bear.”

  “I’m not that bad, MaryBelle,” he protested. But he was beginning to wonder. He’d gone back to the office yesterday and several people had commented on his change of attitude.

  “It’s a woman, isn’t it?” MaryBelle suddenly guessed.

  James immediately felt sympathy for Elise’s blushes as his cheeks heated up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Aha! I was right. It’s about time, too. It’s unnatural for a handsome man like you to have nothing to do with women.”

  “Don’t be silly, MaryBelle. I work with women all the time. Some of my best creative people are women.”

  “This is different,” MaryBelle announced, a satisfied look on her round face. She picked up the coffeepot and poured him more. “Eat up, or I’ll think you’ve lost your appetite because of this woman.”

  He glared at her.

  “Ah, maybe she isn’t as beautiful as she should be, if you’re going to start growling again.”

  The temptation to assure his housekeeper that Elise was quite beautiful almost escaped his lips, until he caught the expectant look on her face. She was fishing for information. He pressed his lips together, then took a deep breath. “The coffee is especially good this morning, MaryBelle. New brand?”

  “Nope. It just tastes better when you’re in a good mood.” After a moment, she asked, “Am I going to need to look for another job?”

  Stunned, he put down his coffee cup. “What are you talking about? Have I upset you? You know I can’t manage without you.”

  “I thought maybe with a new woman in the picture, she might not want me doin’ the cooking.”

  Whether or not he gave her information about Elise, he couldn’t let MaryBelle, sixty years young, worry about her future. She’d been a part of his life for almost ten years, and he couldn’t ask for better. Rising, he hugged her rounded form. “I can’t do without you, MaryBelle, new woman or not. Besides, she’s a career woman. She’ll love having you here.”

  “Aha! I knew there was someone!” MaryBelle crowed.

  “You rat! You tricked me. You knew I’d worry about your hurt feelings. Shame on you!”

  “It’s your fault,” MaryBelle proclaimed, her nose in the air. “You’re too closemouthed for your own good.”

  He didn’t agree with that, but he didn’t mind letting MaryBelle know about Elise. He wanted to tell everyone about her, but that wasn’t a good idea. Their being together was only temporary, he reminded himself. He headed for the door. “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. Oh, and I’ll need to borrow your car again.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the tune-up and wash, by the way. It drives a lot better now.”

  “I’ll leave the keys to my car.”

  “No need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  With a wave, he was
out the door, briefcase in hand, as usual. But he knew the smile on his lips was a new addition, as of two days ago.

  SHE DIDN’T WEAR JEANS.

  That smile insisted on spreading across James’s mouth. He’d made her self-conscious. Tonight, she was dressed in a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt that fell to mid-calf. It wasn’t tight enough to allow her shape to be seen, or full enough to swirl around her legs. And her blouse was done up all the way, except for the tiptop button.

  She hadn’t hidden her small waist, however. A belt with a silver buckle spanned her middle, like the bow on a present—and he was ready to start unwrapping. He found her demure outfit to be more enticing than any bikini.

  “Shall we go?” she asked, staring at him.

  “Not inviting me in tonight?” he asked, just to be ornery.

  She’d met him at the door and had immediately stepped forward and locked up behind her. He suspected she didn’t trust him.

  “I figured you were hungry.”

  “Starved,” he assured her, letting his eyes tell her what kind of hunger he was talking about. She got the message. Her cheeks flamed again. He was almost ready to change his favorite color to rose, a beautiful dusty rose under peach-colored skin.

  Instead of preceding him down the stairs, she suggested, “You go first.”

  He was about to grow concerned that he’d teased her too much.

  Then she added, “It’s my turn to enjoy the view.”

  “My pleasure, sweetheart,” he assured her, grinning, and headed down. At the bottom, he turned to wait for her. “Okay?”

  “Fine.” She avoided looking at him.

  They got in the car, but he didn’t start the engine. “Just for the record, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

  “Why?”

  “You seemed a little uncomfortable with our conversation Wednesday night. It occurred to me that you were less experienced than I expected.”

  She looked out the window rather than at him. “Just because I don’t normally discuss sex with men doesn’t mean I’ve never— No, I’m not a virgin.”

  “Good.” He started the engine and backed out. “I’ve chosen another restaurant this evening. I hope you like Italian?”