The Engagement Project

by Brenda Harlen

  “Is she a vegetarian?” Grace’s question interrupted his speculation.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Because if she’s not, your father’s grilling steaks tonight if you wanted to bring her by—”

  “—so that you can grill her?” Gage guessed.

  “So that your dad and I can meet her,” she chided.

  Though he knew it was dangerous to give his mother too much information, he couldn’t resist baiting her, just a little. “Dad’s already met her,” he said. “In fact, he’s known her longer than I have.”

  “Then it’s someone from work.”

  “You can think whatever you want,” Gage said, unable to deny it.

  “Megan Roarke,” she guessed.

  He scowled. “How did you come up with that name?”

  “Your dad told me about her. He said you were going to be working on a big project together, but he didn’t mention that you were dating her.”

  Gage knew that if she could see him, she would undoubtedly see that he was squirming inside because that one little white lie had taken on a life of its own. Or maybe because a brief flash of attraction seemed to be growing into something more.

  “Don’t go reading too much into anything,” he said. “It’s just one date.”

  “What are your plans for this date?”

  “We’re going to a party,” he admitted.

  “A party?”

  He gave in, because he knew she wouldn’t give up and he simply couldn’t lie to her. “It’s Megan’s sister’s engagement party.”

  “Oh. Well.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s quite a first date.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” she asked innocently.

  “Read anything into it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, though the amusement in her tone belied the words. “But I should let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for your engagement party.”

  “It’s not my engagement party.”

  “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  Gage wondered if her words were a promise or a threat.

  More, he wondered why he’d told her as much as he had.

  Had he wanted her to know about his date with Megan, so that she could pass on the information to his father, further promoting the idea that he was in a relationship with this woman? Or because he was actually interested in Megan and suspected that his mother would be meeting her sometime soon?

  Because he didn’t know the answers to these questions, he pushed them aside to get ready for his date.

  As the minutes ticked closer and closer to seven o’clock, Megan grew more and more certain that the night was going to be a disaster.

  “Relax. It’s not going to be a disaster,” Paige said.

  Megan frowned. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Her cousin laughed. “No, but I know the way your mind works—and despite the exquisite job Gia did with your makeup, your face is pale and you’re clenching your jaw.”

  “What if he doesn’t show up?”

  “He’ll be here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s not Darrin.”

  “Thanks for that reminder,” she muttered sarcastically.

  “As if your mind wasn’t already spinning in that direction.”

  Megan refused to acknowledge that fact, because doing so would be to admit that she’d never fully gotten over the humiliation of being invited to the prom by a guy who never showed up.

  “Gage will be here,” Paige said again. “Which means that we need to get you into your dress.”

  “That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Because Ashley’s afraid that I might duck and run.”

  “Your sister knows you would never let her down,” her cousin said, the pointed tone bringing a guilty flush to Megan’s cheeks. “And I know that everyone gets a little nervous before a first date sometimes.”

  “Speaking of dates.” Megan opened the closet to reach for her dress. “Is Josh picking you up here?”

  Paige shook her head. “No, Ben is meeting me at the party.”

  “What happened to Josh?”

  “Nothing happened to him. We still go out occasionally, but we’ve never had an exclusive arrangement.” She dangled a pink bag in front of her cousin’s nose. “These go on before the dress.”

  She snatched the bag with a sigh. “I don’t know why you and Ashley worried about finding the right bra for my dress. It’s not like anyone would notice even if I wasn’t wearing one.”

  “True. But it’s not a bra, it’s a bustier, and believe me, it will make everyone take notice,” Paige promised.

  Megan had never liked being the focus of attention and her cousin’s response only made her more wary, but she shrugged out of her robe and, with Paige’s assistance, into the black satin-and-lace undergarments her sister had carefully picked out for her.

  “Now the dress,” Paige said.

  Megan wriggled into it.

  “And the shoes.”

  She dutifully shoved her feet into the skyscraper-high heels—

  “Jewelry.”

  —and added the chunky, silver earrings and necklace that Ann-Marie had picked out for her. The long chain meant that the teardrop-shaped pendant nestled in the hollow between her breasts, and when Megan glanced down at it, she was stunned.

  “I have cleavage.”

  “Not much,” Paige teased, “but some.”

  Megan turned to face the floor-length mirror that she rarely bothered to glance into and stared at her reflection. If not for the shell-shocked expression on the professionally made-up face that so perfectly depicted her feelings, she might have believed she was looking at a stranger.

  The deep square neckline that had looked so simple and unassuming when she’d tried it on in the store now highlighted the swell of breasts she hadn’t even realized she had. And the A-line, knee-length skirt showed off a lot of leg that, with the help of the three-inch heels, somehow looked more shapely than skinny.

  Megan’s hand went instinctively to the low neckline of the dress. “I can’t go out in public looking like this.”

  Paige lifted a brow. “Like a beautiful, desirable woman?”

  It wasn’t such a stretch, Megan realized now, for someone to make that assumption. But she knew the truth, and the escalating panic inside of her confirmed it. “I can’t,” she said again. “It’s not me.”

  “It is you,” her cousin insisted. “Only dressed up a little on the outside.”

  Dressed up beyond recognition was more like it, but before she could say anything else, the doorbell chimed.

  “That will be Gage,” Paige guessed.

  “Can you get it?” Megan pleaded with her. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Paige caught her arm as she turned toward the bathroom. “You’re not going to throw up,” she said firmly. “Now take a deep breath and go meet your date.”

  Megan went to the door, grumbling the whole way, and while her stomach was still in knots, the sound of the doorbell had caused them to loosen somewhat. No matter what other surprises or disasters the night might hold, at least he had shown up.

  She took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

  Gage was reaching forward to jab the button again when the door swung open. His lips started to curve in an automatic smile, then froze at the sight that greeted his eyes.

  Megan?

  The violet eyes confirmed her identity, even though they weren’t hidden behind thick-framed glasses anymore. That was the most immediately obvious change, but not the only one. Her hair was different, too. Instead of being confined in the usual braid or ponytail, her long tresses had been fashioned into some kind of fancy twist, with a few strands left loose and curled to frame her face.

  And how had he never noticed that she had such stunning features? Not just those fabulous eyes, but cheekbones that any cover model would die for and lips that made a m
an think of long, slow, deep kisses.

  Then his gaze dipped lower, and his jaw nearly dropped when he realized that the dress she wore showcased curves that she’d kept well hidden beneath the boxy lab coats she wore at work. And the sexy heels made her mile-long legs look even longer.

  When Gage had agreed to be Megan’s date for tonight, he’d been prepared to go through the motions. He hadn’t been prepared for the woman standing in front of him.

  “Gage?” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. A lip that was slicked with glossy color that brought to mind thoughts of a sun-ripened peach, making his mouth water. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, um, nothing. It’s just…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” Against his will, his gaze drifted downward again.

  “It’s a push-up bra,” she blurted out the explanation, then crossed her arms over her chest as her cheeks flooded with color.

  But instead of hiding her newly revealed assets, the action only succeeded in pushing her breasts up farther, closer to the neckline, and enhancing his view. With great reluctance, he tore his gaze away.

  “It, uh, they, I mean, you look great,” he finally managed, and offered her the bouquet of purple tulips he’d kept concealed behind his back.

  “You brought me flowers.” He saw both surprise and pleasure in her eyes, heard them in her voice and wondered whether anyone had ever given her flowers before.

  Gage shrugged. “I was walking by the florist and, when I saw them in the window, I thought of you.”

  “I love tulips, and these are beautiful.” She uncrossed her arms and took the bouquet carefully, almost tentatively. “Thanks. I’ll just go put them in some water.”

  He followed her inside, watched as she went through the routine of finding a vase, filling it with water, and arranging the flowers. It was a routine he’d watched dozens of women perform before, but he’d never seen anyone take such genuine pleasure in the task, find such joy in a simple gesture. Heck, a lot of the women he’d dated would have turned their noses up at the simple flowers because they weren’t imported orchids or exotic calla lilies, and he was pleased that he’d gone with his instinct and bought the tulips.

  Of course, his instincts now were pushing him in a whole different direction—toward the new and stunningly sexy Megan Roarke—but he managed to hold them in check. And if he couldn’t help noticing how the skirt that hugged the sweet curve of her backside inched up a little as she leaned over to set the vase in the middle of the table, well, he was only human.

  “I guess we should be going now,” she said.

  He yanked his mind back to the present. “Do you have a coat?”

  She went to the closet, slid open the door.

  Gage took the garment from her, holding it while she slipped the first arm in. As she turned to reach for the other sleeve, the side of her breast brushed his hand, and somehow that fleeting contact sent his blood humming.

  He headed to the door, wondering and worrying about what other surprises the night might hold.

  Chapter Five

  Megan was feeling pretty good when Gage pulled into the long, winding driveway of the country club. The fact that the first awkward moments had passed allowed her to hope that the evening might not be a complete disaster. A feeling that dissipated with every step they took toward the doors.

  Ashley had insisted that she wanted the engagement party to be an intimate gathering of family and close friends, but somehow the guest list had swelled so that nearly sixty people were expected to attend. And the number of cars in the parking lot suggested that most of them were already there.

  The valet gave Gage a ticket, which he tucked into his pocket before reaching for Megan’s hand, linking his warm fingers with her icy ones.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  “It’s silly, I know, but—” she halted at the bottom of the steps “—this is probably a very bad idea. You’ve done nothing to deserve being subjected to my family.”

  “I’ve met your sister and your cousin,” he reminded her. “They didn’t seem so bad.”

  “They’re mostly harmless,” she agreed. “I can’t say the same about everyone else.”

  “Every family tree has some baboons hanging from it.”

  She smiled at the analogy, but her smile faded when he tugged on her hand, leading her closer to the elaborately carved doors at the entrance.

  “I’ve never brought a date to one of these events before,” she felt compelled to confess.

  “And you’re worried that all your aunts, uncles and cousins will make a big deal out of the fact that you’ve brought one this time?”

  She nodded.

  “So why did you ask me to come?”

  Because he sounded more curious than concerned, she answered honestly, “Because Paige dared me.”

  His smile was wry. “That hissing sound you hear is my ego deflating.”

  Her lips curved, just a little, as she shrugged. “I never expected that you would say yes.”

  “Are you sorry that I did?”

  “No, but you might regret it.”

  He squared his shoulders. “You don’t think I can handle your crazy uncle Wally?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do have an uncle Wally,” she told him. “But he lives in Canada. It’s my great-aunt Vivian you need to watch out for.”

  “I appreciate the warning,” Gage said, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Now let’s join the party.”

  They were on their way to do just that after checking their coats when a cool voice said, “Excuse me, but the upstairs banquet room is closed for a private event.”

  Maybe she should have been flattered rather than annoyed that she hadn’t been recognized, but annoyance won out, as it too often did when it came to dealing with members of Megan’s family. “I know. It’s my sister’s engagement party.”

  The older woman’s eyes popped wide-open and her mouth snapped shut. “Meg?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Aunt Viv.” She dutifully kissed her aunt’s dry, papery cheek.

  “But where are your glasses?” Her gaze skimmed over her niece with obvious disapproval. “And your clothes?” Then shifted to Gage. “And who is this?”

  And so it begins, Megan thought, but managed to hold back her sigh.

  “This is Gage Richmond,” she said. Then, to Gage, “My great-aunt, Vivian Roarke.”

  “Richmond,” she said, and narrowed her gaze. “As in Pharmaceuticals?”

  Before Gage could respond, Lillian glided down the stairs in a cloud of flowing silk and sweet perfume.

  “There you are, Megan.” Lillian smiled at her daughter. “Your sister was just wondering what was keeping you.”

  Megan couldn’t remember ever having been so grateful for her mother’s interruption, despite the subtle censure in her statement.

  Then her mother looked at Gage and smiled. “Although I think I’ve found the answer to that question.”

  It wasn’t quite so easy to hold back her sigh this time. “Mom, this is Gage Richmond. Gage, my mother, Lillian.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Gage said.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Lillian said. “And I’m so grateful you’re here with Megan this evening.”

  It was an effort to keep the smile on her face, to pretend her mother’s comment hadn’t been a slap in the face.

  Of course Lillian was grateful for Gage’s presence—it allowed her to pretend, at least for one night, that her daughter wasn’t a complete social misfit, who never had a date for family events.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Megan said, to no one in particular, “I’m going to find Ashley.”

  Gage caught up with her at the top of the stairs. “You weren’t trying to abandon me down there, were you?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘every man for himself’?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he agreed, reaching for her hand. “Except that tonight I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

&n
bsp; He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. Megan’s eyes widened and the pulse at the base of her throat jumped.

  He hadn’t really thought about what he was doing, hadn’t intended to change the rules of their game, but suddenly, there was an awareness simmering between them that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it just hadn’t been acknowledged.

  She swallowed. “All I need is a couple hours of your time.” Her gaze darted away from his, but not before he saw the nerves lurking beneath the surface. “And maybe a glass of wine.”

  He could use a drink himself, and was grateful to see that there wasn’t much of a line at the bar. “Red or white?” he asked her.

  “Oh. I didn’t mean—you don’t have to—”

  “Red or white?” he asked again.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Red.”

  He gave her hand a friendly squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him make his way toward the bar, and wondered if she’d imagined the zing she’d felt when he held her hand, and the heat she’d seen in his eyes when they’d locked on hers.

  She saw her cousin Camilla in line in front of Gage, and she turned slightly to speak to him, smiling flirtatiously and laughing at whatever he’d said in response.

  Yes, she’d definitely imagined it, because Gage Richmond couldn’t possibly be attracted to her—not when a woman like Camilla was around.

  When the bartender gave Camilla her drink, she fluttered her fingertips at Gage before moving away.

  “You can thank me later.”

  Megan turned to Paige. “For what?”

  “The fact that you got a pedicure and a gorgeous date for the evening.”

  “You made sure the former was contingent on the latter,” Megan reminded her. “But speaking of dates…?”

  “Ben’s on his way,” Paige said. “He got caught up at the office.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “He’s got an important deposition on Monday.”

  “You’ve got to start dating men in another profession.”

  “Where would I ever meet any?”