The Engagement Plot

by Phillips, Krista;

  Lord, give me courage.

  Yes, this was great. Praying for God to help her continue a lie to billions of people. She sure was quality Christian material today.

  Raising her hand to knock on the dark, wood-grained door, she jumped when it opened before her knuckles even made a sound.

  “Hanna? What are you doing here?”

  “We, uh. We’re back from shopping.”

  “Yeah, I heard you pull up. Why are you up here though? My parents will see you.”

  She glanced behind her, heard the voices filtering up from the living room. “They’re busy talking. I told them I’d come and get you.”

  He took a step out of his door and put a hand on her elbow. “Well, let’s get on down, then. It’s our last night here, you know.”

  Oh, good night. This was getting harder and harder. “Actually…”

  He turned and lifted an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  Hanna gulped and tilted her head toward his room. “Can we talk a minute? In private?” Because she hoped four walls and a door would help muffle his reaction. Although he wasn’t normally a yeller, just a liar, ten grand of his parents’ money could change that.

  Pulling at his T-shirt collar—the shirt that was way too hot on him because it hugged his sculpted torso—he looked toward the stairs again and back at her. “You sure you wanna be alone in my room with me?”

  She took his hand and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him. “No, but it’s important.”

  “Hanna, what’s wrong?” Worry lines carved into his forehead.

  Trying to ignore the fact that she was in his bedroom that was still decorated like he was sixteen, she pointed to the bed. “You’re gonna be mad, so you better sit down.”

  Instead of obeying her suggestion, he paced the carpet. “What happened? Did you talk to reporters? No one found out, did they?” That might have been better in the long run. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

  He stopped in front of her, hands folded at his chest, gaze pummeling hers. “Spit it out, Hanna. What’s going on?”

  “Your mom bought me a dress.”

  Will blinked then shook his head. “Uh, okay. I thought that was the point. To pick out an outfit for tomorrow.”

  She turned and took a few steps toward his dresser and picked up an old basketball trophy. It helped to have something in her hand. And maybe something to defend herself with. “No, Will. She bought me a wedding dress.”

  Silence.

  Then she heard some scuffling, so she turned around and found him sitting on the plaid comforter–covered bed, hands on his knees, his gaze focused on some unknown spot on the carpet. “Will?”

  “Okay. We can handle this. I’ll just pay her back, and we can return the dress later.”

  “She said they wanted the dress to be a gift from them.”

  He took a breath. “Well, they can still take it back once we break up.”

  She’d thought the same thing until she’d read the receipt on the way home from the bridal shop. “Wedding dresses have a no-return policy.”

  This brought his gaze up to meet hers. “What kind of scam business are they running? Who doesn’t accept returns these days?”

  Hanna shrugged her shoulders, still holding tight to the little gold man pretending to shoot a hoop. “They don’t want people wearing it for their wedding day then trying to return it, I guess.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again. “Then I’ll just pay them back after it’s all done.”

  And here comes the thunder. Hanna took a step back so her hip rested on the dresser for support. “It was, uh, kinda expensive.”

  As he looked up, the side of his mouth quirked upward. “Honey, I have money. I can afford to pay them back for a dress. Don’t worry.”

  Two very unique urges filled her from her toes to the tip of her head.

  The desire to kiss that adorable mouth of his.

  And the desire to just nod her head and not mention just how much he’d have to pay back.

  Unfortunately, she’d regret doing either of those for a very long time.

  She took the folded-up paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “This was the, uh, receipt.”

  He smiled at her, took the paper, and glanced at it.

  Then did a double take. He lifted his eyes up to hers, then back down, then up to hers again. “Do you mean to tell me this dress cost almost ten thousand dollars?”

  She took a breath and squared her shoulders for the onslaught. “Your mom picked it out. I promise I tried to talk her out of it. I really, really did. But Carly started in on me, too, and before I knew it your mom was scribbling out a check and they were packaging up the dress. It’s breathtaking, Will. I know I’ll never wear it, but oh my goodness. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do. I know you want to yell at me and curse and who knows what else, just—we can’t back out now. I’d feel horrible if they knew I lied to them and made them waste that much money.”

  Hanna looked him in the eye, unable to read his thoughts. “Please, Will. I’d give anything not to hurt them more. I’ll save my pennies and pay them back myself, I promise.”

  She turned and put the trophy back in its assigned spot. Blinking back tears, she headed for the door to get the heck out of Dodge.

  But William’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

  He turned her around and folded her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.

  The clock on the wall ticked, the only sound in the room, but Hanna just held on. She had no idea what else to do, and this Will—a kind one that would hold her to try and make her feel better—this was not what she’d expected at all.

  Will’s hand smoothed her hair and pulled her head back, bringing her gaze to his. “Was the dress pretty?”

  She allowed her mouth to curve up just a hair. “It was breathtaking, Will.”

  “Would you have picked it out?”

  She closed her eyes and pictured the sleeveless, rhinestone and tulle dress again and sighed. “Never in a million years. But it was perfect.”

  Hanna gasped when his lips covered hers, tasting and probing for just a moment. Just as quick as it started, the kiss ended, leaving her shivering and breathless.

  Then his forehead rested on hers and he winked. “Good.” He eased her back and opened the door. “Let’s head downstairs. They might send up a search party, complete with buckets full of cold water, if we don’t get back down there soon.”

  Sure enough, as they descended the stairs, Carly stood on the bottom step. “Thought I was going to have to intervene.”

  Will ruffled Hanna’s hair like he would a ten-year-old. “Was just showing her my old basketball trophies, is all.”

  Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

  The dress better be made of solid gold.

  William glanced over at Hanna in the back of the car he’d hired to take them to the studio. She was staring out the window as if she’d never seen a city before.

  If they weren’t flying out tonight, and if he could have figured out a way to get past his mother, he would have made her model the dress for him. He should at least get that pleasure since he was going to fork out ten grand on a dress that would never be worn again.

  But no. His parents and Carly were ever present, and the dress was tucked safely away in his parents’ closet.

  It was probably for the best. He’d been stupid to kiss Hanna again last night. But she’d just looked so worried, and holding her in his arms had awakened every manly desire in him.

  The kissing needed to stop, though.

  They wouldn’t be getting married. And there had been no cameras in the bedroom to make a show for.

  And thank goodness for that.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “You ready for this?”

  She glanced at him with a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “You’re going to d
o great.”

  “What’s the plan after the interview? I mean, you’re flying back to Nashville and Carly’s flying home. What’s the plan for me?”

  He shifted back to her. “I figured you’d come back to Nashville.”

  “I’m not a fan of living out of hotels. Maybe it’s best for me just to go back to Minnesota for now. I can visit again in a month or something.”

  Will hesitated. “Would it be bad to say that I need you?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Need me? Mr. Corporate CEO who has the world planned out and in order? You don’t need me, Will. I have full confidence in you.”

  He looked out the window of the black sedan at the tall buildings of Manhattan and the flurry of busy people hustling by. Lately it felt like all his well-thought-out plans were fizzling into a fine dust and being scattered into the air, landing who knows where. Maybe that’s why he felt so…lost.

  He was a grown man, leading a multi-billion-dollar company, and he was more lost than he’d ever been in his whole life.

  And the only thing that made him feel even slightly grounded was the woman who sat beside him.

  Who loved the God he hated.

  Who was pretend-engaged to him.

  Who made his blood boil and surge at the same time.

  Life made zero sense at the moment. But Hanna was the only thing remotely “right” about it. And she was temporary.

  He tugged her across the seat so they sat hip to hip, and he put his arm around her, mindful of the ears and eyes of the driver. “I don’t know why, but I just do. Tell you what. You come back to Nashville with me tonight, and I’ll have you back in Minnesota by week’s end so you can spend some time with your dad. Deal? Then we can play it by ear from there. I’ll come visit you one weekend, then you can come visit me. We’ll make wedding plans and figure it out as we go. None of my outlined plans that irritate you so much. How about that?”

  She laid her head on his shoulder, the warmth of her cuddled up to him sending unwanted spirals of pleasure down his body. “That sounds like a good plan, actually.”

  He turned his head and pressed his lips against her smooth hair that reminded him of sunshine. Then he took out his phone and started typing a text.

  Hanna sat up and tried to peek at his phone.

  He held it back from her. Not because she couldn’t see what he typed, but just to be ornery. “Hey, Miss Nosy. Do you mind?”

  She gave his arm a playful shove. “Stop it. I just wanted to see who you’re texting.”

  “If you must know, I was making sure Emma had gotten my message to book your plane ticket with mine for this afternoon, and telling her to book another one for you to go home on Friday. That okay with you?”

  “Must be nice having an assistant.”

  He shrugged. “It has its perks. And Emma is the best.”

  “Can I meet her when we get back to Nashville?”

  William controlled his breathing, not wanting to act suspicious. He should have anticipated the question. And really, the chances of Hanna recognizing Emma after all this time were nil.

  “Maybe. I’m a pretty hard taskmaster and keep her busy most of the time.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What? Is she some gorgeous beauty you’re afraid I’ll be jealous of?”

  “Nope. I mean, yes, she’s very pretty, but—” With a glance at the driver, who was looking at them in the rearview mirror with a frown, he pulled Hanna to him and kissed her lips soundly. “She has nothing on you, honey.”

  “Then let me meet her.”

  Why couldn’t the woman let it go? It would be one thing if this was real. But she didn’t need to meet everyone in his life at this point. She’d already spent a week living at his parents’ house.

  The car turned onto Rockefeller Plaza, and Will leaned forward and pointed. “There’s the studio. You ready?”

  Her already light skin turned a shade paler. “No. But let’s get it over with.”

  One of the producer’s assistants from The Price of Love, her name was Celine, if Will remembered correctly, stood on the sidewalk to greet them and ushered them inside. “You’re late. We’ll have to do a rush job on makeup now.”

  “Traffic was bad. Sorry.”

  The woman glanced back as she power walked down a long hallway and into a waiting elevator. “It’s New York. Traffic is always bad.”

  Will guided Hanna to follow, keeping a hand on the small of her back for show and support. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Assumed someone from ALIVE would meet us.”

  “Monty wanted us to represent, make sure the show’s image is protected and all. You understand.”

  He didn’t really, but then again, the show business stuff was never really his forte.

  She punched in the floor number and turned toward him. “You really put a wrench in my schedule by delaying this, you know. I was already in town last Sunday and had to fly all the way back to LA.”

  Celine had never been his favorite while the show was filming. Some things never changed. He shrugged, not willing to engage her and make the day worse.

  Hanna squirmed under his hand, and he took a step closer and squeezed her waist.

  The elevator door blissfully opened, and they stepped out into the hall. “Down this hallway, second door on the left, is where you get ready. I’ll go get makeup and hair and tell them to hurry so you can have time to brief with the producer.”

  At least they’d have a minute or two alone. Hanna looked like she might faint any moment, which seemed odd because she always exuded confidence on the set of the show.

  Entering the room, Will closed the door behind them and led her to the small froufrou couch. “Everything okay? You don’t look so good.”

  She covered her midsection with a hand and nodded. “Yeah. Just nerves I think. My stomach isn’t feeling too hot.”

  He wasn’t a praying man anymore, but if there was a God up there that cared a lick, it would be great timing to step in and help. Hanna getting sick now or, worse, on stage would be the worst possible scenario. “Do you need something? Can I help?”

  She shook her head. “No, I—I think it’s just nerves.”

  “You always seemed so in control on set before. What gives, Hanna?”

  Sitting back, his adorable little fake fiancée closed her blue eyes and took a few long deep breaths. “There was always this lady on the crew who made me feel better. I don’t even remember her name, but she seemed to appear every time reality hit me and panic set in. After I talked with her, it was like, yeah, I could do this. She always joked that she had a paper bag ready just in case though.”

  Will reached down and slid a stray yellow strand of hair out of her face. “What did she look like?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Red hair, always wore it in a ponytail. Thick-rimmed glasses. Thin. Why? Do you remember her?”

  Yes. Yes he did. “There were so many crew members, they blurred together. I mostly remember the few that were assigned to me.” William grabbed a chocolate cookie from the plate that sat in front of them and held it up to Hanna. “Here. Eat something. It might help your stomach.”

  She opened an eye, snatched the cookie, and took a slow, savoring bite. Then another. And another until it was gone. “Mmmmm. That is what I nee—”

  Before Will could move or realize what was happening, she lurched forward and heaved.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Hanna curled up on the couch, back facing Celine and Alec, the ALIVE producer, as they discussed what to do.

  What an idiot she had been to eat that stupid cookie on a sour stomach. What had she been thinking? More so, what had Will been thinking to give it to her?

  He was paying the consequences though, via vomit-à-la-shoe.

  She wasn’t sure she had ever been so humiliated, except of course after Will’s horrific lie that started this whole blasted mess.

  God, I really need a break. Something good to come of this. I just…I don’t know what to do anymor
e.

  It was like one disaster after another just kept piling on.

  Could it get any worse?

  Alec’s deep voice boomed throughout the room. “We can’t cancel with less than twenty minutes till airtime. Have you forgotten we’re called ALIVE because it’s a ‘live’ show, Celine? I know you can postpone on your little reality TV thing whenever you want, but we don’t have that luxury here.”

  Hanna could hear Celine pace. “So, what? You want Hanna to go out there looking green and Will to be shoeless? That’d be just fantastic.”

  “Makeup can do wonders. And send them both out barefoot. It’d be a statement, something to get people talking about besides what happens in their bedroom.”

  She’d had enough. Hanna rolled over and propped up on the cushion. “There is no ‘their’ bedroom. And we’ll go do the interview. I’m feeling better now anyway. I think my breakfast just didn’t agree with me. And can’t he just borrow someone’s shoes?”

  Will emerged from the bathroom that was attached to the dressing room. His feet were bare, and his rinsed off but still soggy shoes dangled from his fingers. “They aren’t perfect, and they might smell, but I think if we blow dry them off a little, I can still wear them. Can someone ask the driver to bring in my suitcase? I can grab a clean pair of socks out of there at least.”

  She breathed a relieved sigh. Going on national TV barefoot would have been a new low point.

  Ignoring a protesting Celine, Alec kicked into gear, barking orders for a crew member to go get Will’s luggage, and ordering someone to call hair and makeup down to fix Hanna.

  Which made her sit up finally and glance in the mirror across the room.

  Oh no.

  Her makeup she’d done so carefully this morning, a rarity, looked like one of her kindergartners had applied it. Her mascara had run, her lips showed no sign of color, and her cheeks sported a splotchy pink design. Her hair looked like she’d forgotten to brush it this morning, all mussed up and tangled from laying down on the small dressing room couch.

  It would take a miracle to make her look any kind of presentable in the short time they had.