“Don’t worry. I’ll have you home, tucked up in bed, nice and early.”
There was a suggestive tone to his voice that had the butterflies dancing. I knew it was for affect, that this was part of the routine, but I still needed to remind myself every fifteen seconds or so, so that I didn’t get lost in the fantasy. “Have you had a busy week?”
“Big case finished up yesterday, at last...”
“But you didn’t go to court?”
“I’m not that kind of a lawyer. I do mergers and acquisitions and contracts. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes guy.”
Brendan brought our wine.
“Shall we have a toast?” Aaron asked. “To your continued success.”
“And yours.”
The evening was progressing like the sort of date you see in movies and fantasize about happening to you. Beautiful people all around you, amazing food, a hot dinner companion, and easy conversation. If we weren’t about to marry each other, I think I could have let myself fall for Aaron. And since we were well and truly into third date territory, it was no wonder there was some serious longing for something more.
That was, until he asked about my family.
“Well, that’s a mood killer,” I sighed. “Then again you can rely on the Adams family to ruin any occasion.”
“Do you have an Uncle Fester?” he quipped.
“Sadly, I have several less than savory uncles. Here’s the condensed version. I’m the youngest of four kids. I have three older brothers. My mum gave up on the whole idea of domestic bliss when I was in kindergarten. She was essentially supporting her husband and kids as a nurse at night and doing everything around the house all day. I guess when a better offer came along, she took it. She ran off to Perth with a doctor. A doctor who didn’t want kids.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly. So that left me with my dead-beat dad and three older brothers. We lived in a small town north of Sydney along the Pacific Highway called Northaver. The Pacific Highway is the main road up the country’s east coast. You can picture our home with a chain metal fence and cars in various state of disrepair in the front yard.”
“It sounds lovely.” He sipped his wine.
“It was a treat. All my brothers were expelled from school and are now a mix of petty criminals and dole bludgers, like my dad.”
“What’s a dole bludger?”
I grinned and shook my head. “Sorry, sometimes I forget you don’t speak Australian. They don’t work and live on welfare payments. I’m proud of my heritage--not.” I took a swig of wine. “What the town of Northaver does have is a great bakery that people stop at on their road trips. The lady who owned it used to let me sit in her kitchen and chat whenever I wanted. Clearly, she felt sorry for me. The whole town felt sorry for me. I was washing dishes by ten and learned an awful lot by osmosis. So much so that when I left school and became an apprentice baker. I finished my apprenticeship there and got out of that town as fast as I could.”
“Do you go back much?”
“Heck no. I send my dad some money every now and then. I’m sure he thinks, incorrectly, that when I take my business to the next level there will be something in it for him. He’s dreaming.”
“And your mother?”
“We’re not in touch.” I didn’t tell him I hadn’t heard from here since I was ten. I didn’t like to even think about that, let alone discuss it.
Luckily, our starters arrived and the conversation ended. We ate in silence. I didn’t know what he was thinking. Maybe he wouldn’t want to fake marry me now that he knew I wasn’t exactly upper-crust. Then again, his own father was no saint. All I could focus on was my soufflé which was light and airy and amazing.
I looked up and saw him watching me intently.
“Good, huh?”
I took a forkful and offered it to him. One hand under the food so as not to spill it down his front. He took my hand to guide it and that warm feeling was back.
“Delicious,” he agreed.
I was aware that other eyes were on us, no doubt people he knew, but I didn’t care. We were in our little date bubble and I for one didn’t want to burst it.
“So that was a great night,” he said as we walked the few blocks back to his place. “Good food, good company, nice view.”
He was flirting and had been for the last half of the meal. I understood it was part of our game but when we were alone it seemed unnecessary.
“It was lovely.”
“And now I get to take you home.”
He was holding my hand and it felt warm and safe. Again I reminded myself this wasn’t real—even if he did have my overnight bag in his other hand.
What was real was that all the lights in his house appeared to be on when we rounded the corner onto his street.
“Hang on. Stay here.” He took the stairs two at a time. His long lean legs reminded me of a gazelle. He didn’t have time to put a key in the door when it was flung open and an austere looking woman stood backlit by all the lights. She was an older version of Ophelia. Oh, boy. I was about to meet my future mother-in-law.
The date bubble had well and truly burst.
Chapter 6
“I had no idea she was coming. She usually stays at The Copley,” Aaron whispered as we followed his mom to the kitchen.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your plans, darling. I should have phoned,” she said when we caught up with her. “I guess I felt like being spontaneous.”
“It’s no problem at all. You know I’m always thrilled to see you,” he said sweetly. He was a good son.
“Sometimes I forget you’re a grown man who might have plans.” The final word emphasized for its full suggestive merit.
“Piper and I were just at Cellini for dinner.”
“It was amazing,” I added.
“How lovely.” She checked me out again and I got the feeling that I came up lacking. Not tall enough, not blonde enough, and probably--no definitely—not wealthy enough. “Where are you from, Piper?”
“I’m Australian.”
“How quaint. We went there once, didn’t we, Aaron? We really liked Sydney.”
“It’s a very pretty city,” I agreed.
She turned her back to refill her wine glass and I mouthed to Aaron, “I’m not staying.”
His grip on my arm said something different. “Yes, you are.”
He grabbed us two wine glasses and topped them up. “Let’s head in to the living room.”
We sat on the couch and he wedged me in the corner then slung his long arm around my shoulder. That was becoming his signature move. I held my wine glass with two hands, clutched it really, and tried not to feel too judged.
But, seriously… Surely Aaron’s mother didn’t think either of us was a virgin? She must have met many of his girlfriends over the years; she couldn’t honestly think they’d all been platonic.
“So, Mom, what brings you back to the States? It’s a while since you’ve visited.”
“The lawyers need me to sign some papers regarding your father so I thought I’d do it in person for a change. I haven’t seen you in ages, and I don’t seem to have any luck getting you over to the Continent.”
“Where have you been living?” I asked.
“I split my time between Spain and France.”
“How lovely,” I said. It was a non-answer really. It didn’t tell me anything about her or her life. I suppose she’d become quite practiced at that over the years.
“I’ve been working, Mom. Not much time for travel.”
“You can’t work all the time, surely,” she said. As a woman who hadn’t worked a day in her life, her point of view made perfect sense. “And it isn’t as if you have to work…”
“I enjoy my job, Mom. I like the challenge and I like the people. We’ve been over this. Boston is my home.”
She sighed. I felt kind of sorry for her. She was probably lonely. Her husband, whom she took a risk on and ‘married down’ to be with, turned out t
o be a scum bag, and her only son was a hard worker who wouldn’t wander the globe with her.
“Well, I bought a fabulous new villa in Majorca and I expect a visit soon.”
“Oka, Mom,” he said. “I promise I will visit soon.”
I wondered if that meant I, too, would be zipping off to Europe along with him, since we were getting married. His mother probably didn’t think so. She probably thought I was disposable, otherwise she would’ve asked me more than “Where are you from?” I was spotting a trend with Aaron’s friends and family: to them I was as good as invisible. Then again, I didn’t feel like telling her I worked a fifteen-hour day and was about to marry her son, so silence was golden in this case.
That fifteen-hour day was starting to catch up with me. I really needed to get to bed. Aaron didn’t want me to leave, but honestly, if I didn’t get some sleep soon, my whole weekend was going to be a disaster and it looked disastrous enough now that my future mother-in-law was here to stay.
“I’m going to head off and let you two catch up.”
“I thought you were staying,” he said, his eyes narrowing at me so much that I was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to see.
“Change of plans.” I stood up and shrugged. “You two need some privacy.”
“Or is it that you two needed privacy?” His mother asked with a tone in her voice I didn’t like.
“Mom.” His tone silenced her. “Piper, are you sure?”
I nodded. “I think it’s a better idea.”
“I’ll go grab your bag.” He vanished. I was glad we’d left it on the landing and not in a spare room.
I was alone with his mother. “Enjoy your visit.”
“I’m surprised to see you with Aaron. You’re not his regular type.” She sniffed at me.
I was plainly not her type either.
I wanted to say, “So, what…? I’m not blonde? Not married?” but I held back. “Well there you go; people can still surprise you. That’s got to make life interesting.”
Aaron, thank God, reappeared. “I’ve called a taxi. Let’s wait out front.”
When I turned to say good-bye, his mother had already left the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said as we headed down the front stoop.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry she was so snooty. She’s not usually like that.”
I was pretty sure she was usually exactly like that. “Don’t sweat it.”
He leaned down and gave me a toe-tingling good night kiss. I wasn’t sure if it was in case his mother was watching or some other reason, but, sadly, I was tired and I was confused and I was finding the whole fake dating process exhausting. If dating was this hard, I couldn’t imagine how hard the marriage was going to be.
Chapter 7
Friday called for some PDA. I’d been tossing and turning during the four hours of sleep I’d allocated myself and felt as if I’d been run down by one of my own food trucks. I decided to show my affection the only way I knew how. I’d say it with pie.
I made up a whole extra batch of pies and had three dozen warm ones sent up from the nearest food truck to Aaron’s office right before lunchtime. I knew the smell would permeate the space. His colleagues liked my pies and it would piss off Ophelia.
After lunch, I turned up in person to seal it with a kiss.
The pretty brunette receptionist advised him I was there while I perched on a leather sofa. I was wearing tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a fluffy angora sweater that slid off one shoulder. I let my curls cascade down, the antithesis of the pencil-skirted, tailored jacket wearing women I could see working behind the glass reception wall.
Aaron met me in the foyer with a big smile on his handsome face. I was getting used to that lovely face. He was wearing a navy suit. I hadn’t seen him in a suit before and he looked very suave. He didn’t even say hi when I stood. He just planted a big slow kiss, that even involved a little tongue, on me. My leg did a little kick of appreciation.
“What a nice surprise. You’re full of surprises today, in fact. Those pies were amazing. But seeing you here is even better.” He turned to the receptionist. “Amy, this is Piper. She sent the pies.”
“Oh, they were divine,” Amy said grinning at me. “The smell is still lingering.”
“Glad you liked them.”
Behind the glass wall people were surreptitiously checking me out. At least they were attempting subtlety.
“Do you want a tour?” Aaron asked.
“Sure. I’d love to see where you work.”
“You showed me yours, so I’ll show you mine.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“Behave.” I shook my head in mock horror. He took my hand and led me down a corridor.
The office was opulent and austere. More steel, more glass, more leather. There were lots of people in suits and shiny shoes. He introduced me to a few colleagues and reintroduced me to a couple from the previous Saturday night. They all thanked me for the pies.
His own office was one away from the elusive corner office but still had sweeping city views. Would marrying me get him that corner office? It seemed a bit extreme, but then again, I was marrying him for my business, too, so who was I to judge?
His office was decorated in the standard partner-in-training style, with a messy desk, a couple of chairs, some filing cabinets, and a small couch. Had he and Ophelia ever done it on that couch? Judging by the glass walls, I thought not.
He closed the door and sat me on the couch. I felt like we were sitting in a fishbowl.
He leaned in as if he was saying something intimate.
“That idea to deliver pies for the office was brilliant.” He rubbed a dark circle under my eye with the pad of his thumb. “You’re tired, I bet. You poor thing.”
“I’ll live.”
He moved his hand down to run his thumb along my lower lip. “I hope so. And again I’m sorry about my mother. She’s a complicated woman.”
He was staring at my lips so intently I could only manage a “S’okay.”
“S’not okay.” Then he kissed me. It was an honest-to-goodness toe-curling, heart-stopping, spot-seeing kiss. It started out sweet and gentle and then somehow we were in a whole other place. I was transported, so much so that I almost forgot where I was as he leaned me back into the sofa.
“Is that really appropriate Aaron?” The condescending voice in the door way dragged me back to reality. I hadn’t even heard the door open.
Of course it was Ophelia.
“Probably not; we got carried away.” He shrugged.
I was a puddle on the sofa, but he was up on his feet taking a pile of papers from her hands. “Are these the files I asked for? Thanks.”
“The meeting is in fifteen minutes.” She turned on her heel to leave. “I’ll leave the door open, shall I?”
He grinned at me as he landed back on the sofa, the files discarded on the desk. “Perfect.”
“I must say, for a woman who isn’t getting any, I’m starting to feel like quite the tramp.” I said, re-fluffing my hair.
“If that kiss is anything to go by, I’m more than happy to keep you feeling like that.”
“Yeah, right.” I was, however, thinking the same thing. If the kiss was that hot, what would the sex be like?
“The offer stands.” He offered me a hand to help me from the couch.
“The offer is once again rejected but appreciated.”
“Let me walk you out.”
When we reached the foyer he kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you at your place tonight.”
My place? My place only had one bed. But his mother was at his place. This was getting way too complicated.
Chapter 8
I was tired. What I wanted to do was make a sandwich, grab a beer, and watch a game on TV. Luckily, I had an employee who wanted an extra shift, so I was done by seven. I sent Aaron a text to let him know. I needed some veggies so I decided to throw some pumpkin soup on the stove while I did my paperwork.
He was American; I’d serve it with a BLT to make it work.
I was still at my desk when he arrived at eight.
“You work too hard.”
“I do.” I shut down my computer. “You head on up.”
I followed him with my pot of soup and placed it on the upstairs stove.
“That smells good. I didn’t expect you to make me dinner.”
“I’m feeling vegetable-deficient.” I flopped on the couch.
He sat next to me. “You look tired.”
He reached for my feet and put them in his lap, then took off my shoes and socks. Then, wonder of wonders, the man actually rubbed my feet. “I give a mean foot massage, I’m told.”
His thumb dug into the arch of my foot and I moaned. “You were told correctly.”
For the next twenty minutes, he worked his magic on my feet. It was soothing and possibly the most erotic experience of my life. I was a pool of mush by the end of it and barely coherent. I let my eyes flutter open and he was staring at me with an intensity I could barely remember experiencing with a guy. So I let them close again. His close proximity, the magical massage, my exhaustion, it felt like a recipe for confusion I didn’t want.
This was a business transaction. We were two people who had known each other a week and were creating the illusion that we were in desperately in love so we could elope. I needed six to twelve months to sell my business and establish the franchise plan; he needed about that long to make partner. Maybe it would be a little longer than that. We could do this, but not if we muddied the waters. I should have had Cherie find me someone ugly, unsuccessful, and just a little bit unpleasant. This guy was better than just about every man I’d ever met for real and certainly better than anyone I’d ever dated.
Why hadn’t she introduced us a couple of years ago? Well, that was obvious, because despite what my hormones were telling me, and despite his kindness, we were not ever going to be a match in reality. I was letting myself believe in a fantasy and I needed to stop.
Any Way You Slice It: An Upper Crust Novella (Upper Crust Series Book 1) Page 4