The Fake Engagement Favor

by Charlene Sands

  Gianna studied herself in the mirror. She still had a long way to go, but in just under a minute, Lily had really made a big difference.

  “Tomorrow we’ll go to the salon, give that thick hair of yours some pretty highlights and a fresh cut. And then we’ll go shopping.”

  “Thanks, Lily.”

  “You’re welcome. But you know, Gage doesn’t expect you to do all this.”

  “I’m not doing it for him, Lil. I kinda need to do this for myself.”

  “I get it. You’re such a good friend, Gianna.” Lily squeezed her tight, and the affection brought warmth to her heart.

  If she was going to play the part, it only made sense to go all in.

  Gianna never did anything halfway.

  * * *

  Gage stood at the guesthouse door, ready to knock. He wasn’t ready for this date, a trip to the town ice cream shop. He’d thought he’d have at least a few more days before the charade would begin. In his opinion it wasn’t necessary, but his manager, Regan, had other ideas. You need to be seen in public a few times before you actually get engaged. It’ll make it look more realistic.

  He didn’t agree, but Regan knew how to get him out of a bind—she was an expert at it—and he’d finally learned to listen to her.

  So now, here he was trapped into going on a first date with Gianna. He should be glad he’d convinced her while on the phone. She was doing him a big favor. But she didn’t like this idea any more than he did, so he wouldn’t feel guilty about it. Neither of them wanted to do this. And in typical Gianna form, she’d overanalyzed the situation, making her arguments why they shouldn’t be going out until the big engagement announcement. It would have less impact on the press. It was too soon. Neither of them was ready.

  Gianna wasn’t wrong about any of these things, but Regan had a point. It had to look like their relationship was evolving naturally.

  He knocked on the door, trying to adjust his frown into some semblance of a smile. He waited almost a minute, then knocked again.

  Finally, the door opened and Gianna appeared.

  At least he thought it was Gianna. Well, damn. It was her, all right. For a second, his throat closed up. What the hell? Her hair was cut to just past her shoulders, glossed to a deep chestnut brown and parted on the side. Thin-rimmed glasses kept hair from falling onto her cheeks and amplified her gorgeous light green eyes through the lenses. She wore a halter-top denim dress that exposed a hint of eye-popping cleavage. Gianna had cleavage? She’d always worn super-baggy clothes that hid her female shape.

  There was a blush to her complexion, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to his immediate reaction to her. The slight rosy color blended with her smooth olive skin. He scanned her up and down, catching the strappy sandals encasing her feet, her toenails painted a pale pink.

  “You’re staring,” she said.

  He was. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and that wasn’t good. He didn’t like the jolts of electricity shooting through his system. He didn’t like the attraction that immediately caused his breath to catch. Gianna was...stunning.

  He hadn’t signed up for this. He hadn’t reacted this way to a woman in years; the instant magnetism shifted his perspective into something he didn’t recognize. Gianna was forbidden fruit, and he’d have to remember that. She was like family, a girl he’d known for years and the daughter of his mother’s best friend. To top it off, she was in mourning and very vulnerable right now.

  “What did you do to yourself?” It was his knee-jerk response to her hot appearance. Emphasis on jerk. It pissed him off that she’d made this transformation, giving him a bit of a shock and throwing him off balance.

  Her chin went up. “Nothing,” she said sharply.

  “Brainiac, you’ve done something.”

  “Brickhead, I thought you were taking me for ice cream?”

  His mouth twitched, but he held back a smile. Using their childhood nicknames for each other oddly put him at ease. When they were kids, he’d played with her unless there’d been something better to do. Admittedly, he’d sorta tormented her, but Gianna never cowered. She’d held her ground and dished out equal justice. He’d always admired that about her. She didn’t back down. Nope, she was too quick, too clever to let him get the best of her. “I am. Ready to go?”

  Taking her to the best ice cream shop in Juliet, Triple Scoop, was the only way he could coax her into going out tonight. If memory served, she could devour a Triple Decker without batting an eyelash.

  She nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

  He couldn’t agree more, but somehow hearing her say it stung.

  In the driveway, he opened the passenger side door for her and caught a glimpse of her tanned legs as she flounced into the seat. She caught him looking, and he pretended not to notice. He climbed in, started the engine of his midnight-blue Aston Martin and sped off.

  Halfway to town, Gage glanced over at Gianna. “I’m not complaining, but why’d you do it?”

  She turned her face away to stare out the window. “Seems like you are complaining.”

  “Are you gonna answer my question?”

  She pushed air out of her lungs. The sigh was dramatic and real. “It only makes sense, Gage. I weighed the options and came to the conclusion that if we’re to have people believe we’re together, I need to look the part. Lily gave me some help.”

  “Lily did a good job.”

  “Is that a backhanded compliment?”

  His lips twitched again. She’d made it clear—she hadn’t dressed to impress, or at least to impress him. It was a calculated move on her part to ensure their little scheme worked. Gianna wasn’t the type to fish for compliments, but he owed her this one. “You look very pretty, Gianna.”

  It was the understatement of the year.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  Once in town, he parked the car two blocks from the ice cream shop, and Gianna glanced at him curiously. “Why are we parking here?”

  “A little walk will do us good.”

  “Let me guess, Regan’s idea? So more people will see us together?”

  He didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, because she was right and he hated to admit it. “Usually the townsfolk don’t pester me too much, but, just a warning, that all might change when I’m spotted with you on my arm.”

  He got out of the car, opened the car door for her and offered his hand.

  She slipped her hand in his, and the delicate softness of her skin pummeled through him as he helped her step out. He closed the door and set the car alarm. It beeped and off they went, strolling down the street hand in hand.

  A bright sunset was making its descent, the summer air heavy and thick. Beads of sweat circled his neck and made his jeans stick to his legs. Gianna seemed unaffected by the heat. She walked along the street, her chin up, her cool demeanor unmarred. A few women came out of a lingerie store and stopped to gape. Quickly, they took out their phones and snapped pictures of Gage and Gianna. One lady approached and asked for a selfie.

  “Sure, let’s get Gianna in on this, too,” he told her.

  The woman didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

  She snapped a picture of the three of them and then thanked them, giving Gianna a puzzled look. Her wheels must’ve been turning as she wondered who his date was. Soon, hopefully, everyone would know. Gage took Gianna’s hand again and ventured on.

  He was stopped two more times by fans who wanted photos before they entered the crowded ice cream shop. “No doubt those photos will be all over the internet in less than an hour,” Gianna whispered. “I guess Regan knows what she’s talking about.”

  “Yep, she usually does.”

  She’d been his manager for going on nine years now. She hadn’t steered him wrong on any of the decisions they’d made. Any trouble he’d been involved in wasn’t a r
esult of bad managing. He’d gotten into that trouble all on his own, but lucky for him, Regan knew how to prevent his image from tanking. He just had to keep his nose clean for the next six weeks or so and he could move on with his life.

  * * *

  Gianna sat across the round café table from Gage, bringing her tongue across the top layer of her Triple Decker, feeling self-conscious as at least a dozen pairs of eyes darted glances her way. Gage had already signed four autographs for giddy girls who deemed themselves lucky to have had an ice cream craving at the same time he did. They lingered, watching his every move, and not until he’d finally given them a wave and a “See ya” did they dash back to their own table, cell phones in hand, typing as fast as their thumbs would allow.

  “Geesh, is it always like this?” Gianna asked.

  “This is nothing,” Gage said. “Sometimes I have to run for my life.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He shook his handsome head, his eyes twinkling. “The forty-year-olds are worse than these kids. They want a piece of me I’m not willin’ to give.”

  “Like what?” She took another lick of her cone. The Triple Decker consisted of three scoops of your favorite flavors along with toppings for each layer. She was demolishing rocky road with raspberry topping at the moment, with a scoop of French vanilla topped with chocolate sprinkles and a scoop of mocha fudge, swimming in nuts, just waiting for her. Ice cream was the guiltiest of guilty pleasures and her weak spot.

  “They try to rip off my clothes. And touch places they have no business touching.”

  “Really, they do that?” She was appalled. Even though celebrities expected to be adored by their fans, and wanted to be, there were limits. No one had a right to abuse those boundaries.

  “Concerts are the worst. The venues provide security teams, but every once in a while someone gets by them. It’s why I need a bodyguard sometimes.”

  “So where is he now?”

  “He gets time off when I’m home in Juliet. Like I said, the townsfolk aren’t out for my blood. They let me live my life, pretty much.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  “That’s all gonna change on the Fourth. Regan’s got all the local news reporters coming. That’s when things will heat up.” His gaze slid down to her mouth as she licked her cone. “You’re sure enjoying that.”

  The look in his eyes made her edgy. “My favorite.”

  “I remember.”

  “You’re a party poop for not getting the Triple.”

  Unfazed, he licked at his all-chocolate cone, one scoop. No toppings. “Sometimes more is not better.”

  She wound her tongue around the last of her rocky road. “Oh, but when it’s better, it’s way better.”

  “Hold on a sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Let’s get a picture of this. Our first date.”

  “Probably smart to document it.”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “That’s what I was going for.”

  His head came close to hers, enough so that she could smell his scent—something expensive, oozing with masculinity. “Smile,” he told her.

  She did, and he snapped the photo.

  “That’s perfect,” he said, glancing at the picture, grinning like a fool.

  “Let me see it.”

  He handed her the phone. She glimpsed her image and gasped. “You!”

  In the photo, Gianna was smiling, but her mouth was smudged all over with raspberry sauce. She looked like a ten-year-old kid, and right now, she felt like one, too. She grabbed a napkin, wiped her mouth, then crumpled it up and tossed it at him. “You never change.”

  He caught the napkin on a chuckle. “That’s what you get for calling me, of all people, a party poop.”

  “So you’re saying I started it?”

  “If the shoe fits, Cinderella.”

  She felt like Cinderella, playing dress-up with the handsome prince. But unlike Cinderella, she’d be happy when the ball ended, so she could go back to being her own pumpkin self again.

  She deleted the picture, then caught a few photos of him with his band. Some were taken while he was onstage, lights beaming down, his hat shadowing his face and beads of sweat dripping down. She imagined his fans standing up, singing along with him, knowing the words to all his songs.

  This was what he was trying to hang on to. This was what he was trying to protect. He wasn’t just a newbie country singer with a few hits. He was a brand all his own and carried the weight of countless behind-the-scenes crew members on his shoulders, as well as many other vendors and producers and musicians.

  She gave him back his phone, sobered now. “It’s not about the money, is it, Gage? That’s not why we’re doing this.”

  He didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. “It never was.”

  He was rich in his own right. His family was one of the wealthiest in all of Texas. But she couldn’t imagine Gage working in an office, going over ledgers and spreadsheets. Gage had a freer spirit than that. He was talented and loved what he did for a living. He wanted to be the one to decide when his career ended, not the other way around. In a sense, he was fighting for that right. To decide his own future. And as silly as having a fake fiancée seemed, she understood why he was invested in this ruse.

  “I know,” she said.

  “Gianna, sometimes you get me better than anyone else.”

  “Is that why you always picked on me?”

  He shrugged, thinking on it. “You were the one person I couldn’t fool. Sorta pissed me off, if I’m being honest.”

  He infuriated her at times, but she never let him see it. “Now we’re grown-ups and we can forget playing those silly gotcha games. We have a goal in mind and we should stick to it, Gage.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Nothing about this is fun for me.”

  His smile waned, and the joy in his expression disappeared.

  She wouldn’t rub it in too much, but she was doing him a big favor. And she wanted it to go smoothly, without any bumps in the road. Putting up with the insufferable Gage Tremaine for the summer wasn’t her idea of a good time.

  They finished their cones, and Gage offered his hand when it was time to leave. He held on firmly and then kissed her cheek, a subtle little peck, but one that told all the roving eyes in the ice cream shop that she was his and vice versa.

  And that peck came as a complete surprise. Her face tingled where his lips had touched her skin. That subtle touch and the way he’d looked at her when she’d opened the guesthouse door worried her. Because she’d felt something spark and sizzle inside her. For a moment.

  Gianna held a secret close to her heart, one that ensured she wouldn’t fall for Gage. It was something she’d never told another soul. Something that made her avoid men like Gage Tremaine. All she would ever have with Gage was a fake engagement. Period.

  There was no doubt Gage was an appealing man. But she didn’t want to notice. She didn’t want to be charmed. She supposed that at some point Gage would actually have to kiss her in front of an audience.

  And she dreaded it.

  Two

  Gianna stood facing Juliet Jewelry on Main Street, Gage by her side. It’d been two days since their date at the ice cream shop, and social media had been all abuzz with news of their romance. Now they were making a pit stop at the jewelry store before their dinner date. “I still don’t think we need to do this,” she said, feeling grossly uncomfortable. She didn’t know why Gage insisted on buying her a ring. “I can wear my mother’s ring, Gage. It’s a pretty engagement band.”

  Gage shook his head. “We’ve been over this already. I need to buy you a ring to make things look official. If this were real, you’d have a rock on your left hand that everyone would notice.”

  He looked at her hand. “Besides, you’ve wor
n that ring on your right hand since your mama passed,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t be right to use it that way.”

  She sensed he was being considerate so she couldn’t fault him. He was adamant about getting her a ring, and this was one argument she wasn’t going to win. “Okay, fine. But I don’t want anything flashy.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d do flashy. Whatever size and shape you want is what you’ll have, Gianna.” Gage took her hand. “Ready to do this?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Let’s go pick out a ring.”

  Gage had made special arrangements with the shop owner for a private appointment, and they were greeted immediately by a man named Jeffrey Danes as they entered the store. Marble floors and rich stone walls spoke of class and wealth. The shop wasn’t large, but the three long cases set in a horseshoe shape were cleaned to a brilliant shine and displayed all manner of jewels. Overhead, a spectacular sparkling chandelier hung in the center of the room.

  “Jeffrey, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Professor Gianna Marino.”

  The man took her hand without giving it a shake. “Pleasure to meet you. I hope we can find the perfect ring for you. And congratulations on your upcoming engagement.”

  Heat rushed up her neck. She hated lying. “Thank you very much.”

  “We haven’t announced our engagement yet,” Gage said. “And we’d appreciate your discretion until we make the announcement.”

  “Always,” Jeffrey assured them. “I’ve been doing business with your family for years. You can trust me. Now, let me show you our best-quality rings.” He gestured to the case at the back of the shop. Already, Gianna’s hackles were raised. She didn’t want to wear an expensive ring. She didn’t want Gage to spend a fortune for a ring she was only going to return to him. It wasn’t necessary. None of this was.

  “Have a seat, please.”

  They both sat on plush chairs as the man pulled out a black velvet drawer and set it on top of the jewel case, giving Gage a big smile. Gianna nearly choked seeing the size of the diamonds.