The Engagement Game (Engaged to a Billionaire)

by Gardner, A.

  "Jack." I nod, keeping my gaze far away from the firm bulkiness under his t-shirt. I busy myself by recording a few things in Earl's chart.

  "So," Jack continues. "Did you work over the weekend?" There it was. The small talk - Jack's way of buttering me up before the jokes and the teasing began. I ignore him and proceed to ask Earl a few questions.

  "Are you still having trouble sleeping?" I make another note.

  "Okay," Jack chuckles.

  "Can't you see she's busy," Earl scolds.

  "Yeah. She is now." He turns the page of his paper and leans forward in his chair. The tip of a black tattoo covering his shoulder becomes visible.

  "Calm down both of you," I tease. I head for the door. "I'll see if I can get you something else to eat, okay." I smile as I leave the room, hearing a pair of boots thump behind me.

  "Kat," Jack says, following me down the hall. My face comes up to his chest. "Can I ask you something?"

  "I told you Jack," I automatically respond. "I'm really busy and I don't have time to-"

  "Relax," he laughs. "You think I'd ask you again after you burned me twice?" I would've been lying if I said Jack wasn't pleasing to look at, and he had a weird way of keeping Earl calm despite the hell he was going through. But Jack was a walking red flag - a sexier Chad. For one, his jeans had a rip in the knee and sometimes he smelled like he had spent the night on the floor of a frat house. Jack didn't qualify. He failed on all counts.

  "I don't know. I've learned it isn't safe to assume anymore." He bares an imperfect grin.

  "A doctor came in this morning. He looked through Dad's chart, shook his head, and left."

  "Well it could have been a number of-"

  "No Kat," he gently touches my arm. "This time was different." I bite my lip. I had a hunch and hoped it was wrong. But Earl was in his seventies, and losing strength. My heart sinks but I keep a friendly face. I was good at that. Jack follows me to the nearest computer and anxiously waits for me to pull up Earl's records. I glance through a few notes, finding the comments made this morning. My chest pounds beneath my clothes.

  "Jack," I softly say. "Why don't you join me in the cafeteria for a coffee?" I glance at a nearby clock. I have time for a quick break.

  Jack and I stride down the hall side by side. Jack's arm is inches from mine. I take steady breaths, wondering how I'm going to tell him the news. I normally didn't have much trouble. Delivering bad news was not a foreign concept, but Jack and Earl were different. As weird as it was to admit to myself, I was attached. I'd let myself fall prey to the playful teasing and family stories. That and it wasn't often that I cared for a patient who actually cared back. Earl was one of few.

  Hallway chatter buzzes through my ears and I remember my first time meeting Jack. It was about six months ago. I sat down at an empty table in the hospital cafeteria with my morning yogurt. A table with a missing chair and a deserted gym bag. After glancing around for a few minutes I opened the bag and rifled through a few items of sweaty clothing and a Robert Jordan novel. I curiously pressed the 'on' button of an ipod nano in an armband case. The last song played was by a local indie band I actually liked. I was intrigued.

  "You know I could call the cops for that," a voice startled me. I looked up to see an unshaven face, entrancing blue eyes, and a pair solid biceps.

  "Sorry," I blushed. "I was just looking for some kind of identification."

  "In my underwear?"

  I looked down to see that my hand had innocently wandered to navy blue briefs. My entire arm recoiled.

  "Maybe," I replied in an attempt to lighten my embarrassing mishap. "Some boys still write their names on the inside of their underwear, don't they?"

  "Only ones that live with their mom."

  Check number one. He didn't live with his parents. Hopefully.

  "I'm Kat," I said, reaching out a hand.

  "Jack. So you're a nurse?"

  "Wow . . . lucky guess?"

  "Actually," he chuckled - a deep throated chuckle followed by an imperfect smile. "The scrubs gave it away."

  "Right." I nodded, wondering how many more ways I could make a fool of myself.

  "How long have you worked here?"

  "Since finishing school," I answered. "I mean I have good days and bad days but for the most part, I love it here at Harrison Memorial."

  "I can tell." He smiled again, this time glancing at the swirly curl next to my cheek. I tucked the strand behind my ear. "My grandma was a nurse."

  "That's pretty hard core."

  I laughed, nearly dropping a dollop of mixed berry yogurt all over my top. "She was."

  "Was?"

  "Yeah," I quietly responded. "She's not around to make me ham, cheese, and potato chip sandwiches anymore."

  "Interesting combo," Jack chuckled again. "I'll have to try that."

  "It's a great remedy for a crappy day," I added. I bit my lip, looking at the clock on the wall. Jack glimpsed over his shoulder.

  "Oh," he commented. "I don't want to keep you."

  "I was just taking a ten minute time out." I fiddled with the cup of yogurt in my hand. I was stalling. I'd only known Jack a couple minutes but I was eager to see him again when my clothes didn't smell like rubbing alcohol.

  "And how much time do you have left? Don't tell me I caught you at minute nine?"

  "Five minutes," I smiled.

  "I only get five minutes to convince you to go out with me?"

  My stomach fluttered. But as soon as my cheeks went pink, Holly's voice boomed in my head. All the signs were there. I shrugged. "You could start by telling me more about you?"

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Ever been to prison?"

  "Jumping right into the personal stuff," he nodded. "No, I haven't." Another check. No criminal record. Unless he was really good at lying.

  "Are you a San Franciscan?"

  "I'm from Seattle," Jack answered.

  "Do you live alone?"

  "No," he replied. I didn't like where this was going - as long as he didn't say aunt, grandma, or totally chill cousin. "It's me and Nikki."

  "I guess I should've prefaced with the obvious," I added. "Do you have a girlfriend, fiancé, wife, or secret family somewhere in Iowa?"

  "Not Iowa," he joked.

  "Sounds ridiculous but you'd be surprised what-"

  "Nikki is my dog," he interrupted. Check number three. He wasn't a mooch. One question left and he'd be first date material. Though I'd have a hard time convincing Holly it was okay if he had seven zero potential instead of ten. A first date wasn't an engagement.

  "I guess I just have one question left then."

  "Smooth sailing so far," he muttered.

  "What do you do for a living?"

  Jack's eyes drifted to the side. No immediate response.

  "I'm kind of in between projects right now," he finally answered. I sighed, knowing what that really meant. He was unemployed. I looked down at his mud-stained shoes and spotted a small stain on his pants. Red flag!

  "Care to be more specific?" Maybe if I gave him another chance to explain?

  "It's a complicated situation at the moment." Damn.

  "Time's up." I stood up, looking at the clock.

  "Well," he smiled. "When can I see you again?"

  "Maybe another time," I let him down gently. Jack frowned.

  "I promise I -"

  "I'm going to stop you right there," I interrupted. "I'm not really looking for a relationship right now." A lie.

  "What about a good time?"

  "I'm really late now, sorry." Another lie. My foot kicked a wall as I headed to the second floor. I was starting to think the guy I was looking for didn't exist. Holly and I had worked hard to find men who complied with the rules. Holly had come close once. Okay twice. The score was zero to two - Holly. I remember sifting through charts, trying to shake the deep blue of Jack's eyes from my memory. It wasn't an easy task. But after a run in with Dr. P, I was back to my usual self. Boring, sing
le, and dreading my thirtieth birthday even though it was over a year away.

  I lightly knocked with as I opened a patient's door with a cup of meds in my hand. It had been a long day already and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch reruns of Friends.

  "Hello Earl," I greeted the elderly man in the hospital bed. "I've got some medi . . ." My eyes drifted to the corner of the room where a man sat wide-eyed.

  "What was that dear?" Earl asked.

  "Your medicine." I handed him the cup and watched him swallow.

  "Thank you," Earl replied. I nervously swallowed as Jack watched me write in his father's chart.

  "Kat," Jack finally spoke.

  "You two know each other?" Earl looked a little confused. I looked in Jack's direction just as he winked.

  "Nope," I blurted out. Jack laughed.

  "She turned me down Pops."

  "Well good for you," Earl said, squeezing my arm. I smiled. "He can barely heat up a can of chicken noodle soup." That was the very moment I knew I liked Earl and his blunt sense of humor.

  I sit at the same table where Jack and I first met. Jack glances around.

  "I thought we were having coffee?"

  "Look," I whisper. "I'm just going to say it. It doesn't look good."

  "How bad is it?" Jack's expression softens. He leans in closer, waiting for an explanation.

  "It spread." I look down at the table as my heart pounds. Pressure starts to build behind my eyeballs. It was almost like delivering news to family.

  "Like 'okay we can manage' spread, or 'start calling the family' spread?" Jacks eyes glisten as he clasps his hands together. He takes a breath, then his expression hardens. "Well, we all knew this day would come. I just didn't think it would be today."

  "Jack-"

  "It's okay," he continues. "Thank you for telling me, Kat. Pop looks forward to your visits. You've been extremely kind to him all this time." The pressure behind my eyes grows stronger. Before I can bring myself to say something more reassuring, Jack gets up and drags his feet down the hall. I wipe away a tiny tear that manages to escape.

  I compose myself, speed walking out of the cafeteria . . .

  "Kat?"

  My eyes widen and my chest freezes. Turns out Holly's prediction wasn't far off.

  "Rex? What are you doing here?"

  "Dropping off a check," he shrugs. He glances at my uniform with a surprised look on his face. My mind wanders to our conversation the night before. Charity thing. Of course. "So this is where you work." He nods, walking closer. He slips a hand in his suit pocket - a more casual looking suit but still a suit.

  "Yep," I giggle. "This is it." Rex checks his Rolex.

  "Well listen," he begins. "My meeting tonight was canceled, what are you doing for dinner?" I open my mouth but nothing comes out until I imagine myself in a tight dress and three inch heels.

  "Just a date with leftover fettuccine," I joke. Rex flashes a pearly white smile. "But if something better came along . . ."

  "Like fresh lobster tail that hasn't even been caught yet?"

  "Like that," I agree.

  "Perfect." He pulls out his phone. "What's your address? I'll have a car pick you up at seven." I bite the side of my cheek, a little embarrassed to give it to him. I lived in a shack with a dirt floor compared to him.

  "I'll meet you," I improvise. "Your office is downtown I assume?" Rex nods.

  "Always full of surprises."

  Chapter Three

  "You won't believe what I'm doing right now," I beam over the phone.

  "Getting ready for a date?" Holly suggests.

  "Okay, maybe you can guess." I stare at my reflection, adding another layer of peach lip gloss before realizing this was my fourth coat. My caramel hair hangs past my shoulders in loose curls and my lids are a dark gray. "What do you think? Boob boosting dress I can't breath in or super tight jeans that make my bum look rounder than it really is?"

  "That depends on where he's taking you," she responds.

  "He didn't say. He was wearing a suit when I saw him. I don't know if he's going to show up casual or dressed like he does for work."

  "What a second . . ." Holly pauses. Probably to carefully think of a compromise that was both formal and easy to move in. "He showed up at the hospital?" Or maybe not.

  "Not to see me. But he did see me . . . and ask me out."

  "Wait, did he purposely come to see you or was it fate?"

  "Fate," I admit. I study my hair for the twelfth time before pacing back and forth in front of my two options. One dress is ruby red and the other is an ocean blue. My fingers touch the shiny fabric of the red dress. I grip the phone tighter. "Red or blue?"

  "Louboutins." Holly laughs.

  "That doesn't help me. Of course I'm going to wear my Louboutins."

  "No, I mean just wear Louboutins." She laughs again.

  "It's not that kind of date, Holly." If anyone were to show up at a man's door in nothing but expensive heels and a trench coat it would be Holly.

  "Not yet."

  "Don't you have a date of your own to worry about?"

  "Uh," she sighs. "Not until next week." She always loathed admitting defeat.

  "Hmmm. Maybe you should take your own advice and show up in a trench coat."

  "Nah," she jokes. "That only worked the one time." She giggles. "He's a busy man. A very busy man."

  "Sounds like we need to have a chat. Lunch tomorrow?"

  "Yeah, but don't talk me into ordering tiramisu again. Last time I was bloated all day."

  "More for me," I reply. "And you still haven't answered my question. Red or blue?"

  "A man would tell you red, but a woman would tell you blue."

  "Is that supposed to be some kind of riddle? It sucks."

  "It's my answer."

  "What would a Holly tell me?"

  "Bag the billionaire, girl." I hear her thumb through clothes in her closet. "See you tomorrow. I want every detail. Even the dirty ones." I roll my eyes but my hand moves to the red dress.

  "I'll keep a journal." I hang up and hold up my outfit for the evening - a ruby red dress that made it impossible for me to eat anything more than a few bites of salad. I slide the dress over my head and hold my breath. I dash to my full length mirror to make adjustments. If only Holly and Leah could see me now.

  I throw on my coat and grab my black Chanel bag - another item that Holly insisted I "invest" in. All the way to my car my heart pounds and my throat dries up. I take a few slow breaths to steady my heart rate. Maybe I should've let his driver pick me up?

  My car winds up and down the hills of downtown. I can see the pier in the distance amidst an orange sky. I look down at a crumbled piece of paper with the address, unable to concentrate as my stomach does somersaults. I was there. No more thinking. No more strategizing. I pull into a parking garage and stall as I pass a row of empty spots.

  "He already likes you," I say out loud. "You wouldn't be here if he wasn't into you . . . unless this is a pity date." I gulp as I finally park my car. "Stop it, Kat. This isn't a pity date. Just . . . do what Holly would do." My brain jumps to the time Holly once danced on a bar our freshmen year of college just to get a guy and his trust fund buddy to look our way. "Maybe not that ambitious." My thoughts go fuzzy and I can barely think. I wasn't good at this sort of thing. Not naturally.

  "Visualize it," I reassure myself. In high school, Coach Simms made me close my eyes and imagine myself scoring a goal before every game. It worked most of the time, but mostly because Chad used to shout my name from the bleachers. He used to joke that he'd take me out for every goal I scored. One particular game I scored four. I paid for two of those dates and I'm pretty sure Chad's mom paid for the rest. Why the hell did I waste my time with that guy? Oh yeah . . . teenage hormones.

  With a level head, I step out of my car. I'd dressed the part, studied my prey, and worked out a strategy. It was game time.

  * * *

  Rex's eyes can't hide his tho
ughts when I walk past his secretary and into his office. Windows make up most of the walls and a pair of leather sofas sit on the sides of a mahogany coffee table. Rex's workplace was definitely designed by a professional. Unless Rex's hobby was interior design? But I didn't know many straight men who could color coordinate their walls, art decor, and accessories so seamlessly. I pretend to admire a giant porcelain vase in the corner because Rex can't stop staring. My blood pumps like the night before.

  "Wow."

  "Thanks," I respond, knowing what he meant to say. A subtle sigh of relief escapes my lips as I look at the tailored suit he wore earlier. I made the right choice.

  "You ready for dinner?" He takes a few steps. His eyes remind me of two chocolate kisses and his brunette hair looks perfect along with his opalescent smile.

  "Of course."

  He escorts me out of his office where his secretary hands him a bundle of envelopes. There's a glisten of sweat on her bushy brow. "Save them for the morning, Ellen." She nods and adjusts her silver-framed glasses. I see a sideways look in my direction so I pretend to be impressed that I was his for the evening.

  Rex opens the door to a black Bentley with tinted windows. I slide into the back seat and watch as his driver opens his door on the other side. My hand rests on the open seat between us, curious as to whether Rex would brush his hand against mine. He does. His warm hand lightly strokes the edge of my finger.

  "You're going to love this," he grins.

  "Really," I tease. "Because you know so much about me, huh?"

  "I did a background check."

  "One that informed you of my favorites foods, movies, color, etc?"

  "I'm a powerful man," Rex replies. His casual chuckle eases the knot in my stomach. I sneak another glance at the cocoa perfection surrounding his pupils.

  "Where are you taking me then? I'll tell you if you've made the right choice."

  Rex looks intrigued as he processes my response - not the usual response he was used to hearing I'm sure. The car stops at just the right moment and I'm escorted up the steps of a bustling restaurant occupying the space of what appears to be a historical seaside manor. The house is spectacular with antique floors and a brilliant chandelier in the entryway. I see a room full of quiet tables in a former study.