We go around the room introducing ourselves. My parents are chatting in the back of the room with some of the other parents we’ve come to know. It’s a strange connection we have with these people. We all wish we never had to endure the circumstances that brought us here. But we are all so damn grateful to have a small community who understands just what it feels like to have someone literally taken from you.
Today, we’re welcoming Jim and Virginia Carlisle. Their four-year-old son, Noah, was kidnapped recently by his uncle, and the two have been missing for over a month. I watch as the other parents greet them, hug them, listen to their stories, offer advice. We’re all on this bleak road together, but it makes it a little less bleak to know that we’re not alone.
And for the ones who haven’t been given a body yet, it gives us a little hope. My Willa might not be coming back, but I like to think she has an eye on Noah.
I look over at Maryn standing at the back of the room. This is the fifth meeting she’s been too, and each time, she ends up in tears. I understand. It was like that for me at first. It’s a lot to take in. And Maryn, she’s one of those people that feels so hard for others. She takes what they’re feeling and feels it for them. It’s one of the things I love most about her.
I walk over to her as the meeting concludes and wrap my arms around her, leaving a kiss on the side of her head.
“How are you?” I ask her. She gives me a sad smile and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.
“I don’t know how you do this,” she says. “It’s heart-wrenching. Every single time.”
I pull her into my chest.
“I don’t know how to not do it, ya know?” I ask. She nods.
We clean up after the meeting reception, stack chairs in the event hall that we rent, and pick up some of the trash.
It’s nice having her here. She’s been such a strong partner with all of this. She’s really involved with the foundation, and it makes me fall harder for her every day.
“You ready to go?” she asks, throwing the last few plates and cups in a trash can nearby.
“Almost,” I say. “I have to have a quick word with your dad.”
Her eyebrow shoots up.
“My dad? Why?”
Mr. Porter has been attending a few of the meetings—I think to show his support for my family since the guns are finally down between us. He’s been getting to know the families and offering them an ear. We’ve found that he’s actually really good at leading our meetings, both on the organizational end and on the support side. I smile and shrug and tell her I’ll meet her out front. She kisses my cheek.
“Okay, ya weirdo,” she says. As I watch her walk away, I flash back to that moment I watched her walk out of that hotel restaurant a year ago. How she threw that drink on me, that fire in her eyes drawing me in. Sure, things between us there were less than civil then, but the truth is, I wanted her the second I saw her again, and I didn’t even realize it then.
I walk toward the back of the room where Mr. Porter is saying goodbye to one of the other board members.
“You ready to head out?” he asks as he sees me approaching. I nod.
“Yep, but before we go, I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say. He raises an eyebrow, and I realize in this moment how much Maryn resembles him.
“What’s up?” he asks, grabbing two of the chairs beside him and setting them out for us.
“Well, I’m not sure if you heard, but the Willa Foundation was approached recently by the Bell Group. They’re the group behind Find Our Children.”
Mr. P’s eyebrows shoot up again. Find Our Children is a national television program run by the parents of a child who was kidnapped in the 90s.
“They have a foundation, too, and they recently reached out to my parents and me to connect, cast a wider net, bundle our resources. They like our therapeutic approach for the families, and they want to invest in getting us some more resources. One of the first things they want to do is hire a few more people full time.”
Mr. Porter’s eyes widen as he starts to figure out where I’m going with this.
“I’ll be coming on as the foundation chair full time. We also need an event leader. My parents and I have been watching you at these last few meetings. We see how naturally you connect with the families, the siblings. I would really like it if you would take the job.”
His eyes stay wide as he stares at me.
I know these last few years at the factory haven’t been kind to him. I know he has a brilliant mind that’s been stifled. I know he has an inherent need to help people, and he hasn’t been able to fulfill it.
I also know that he would be the perfect person for the role. These people need him.
“I...I don’t know what to say,” he says, and I notice his hands trembling.
“Say you’ll think about it?” I ask.
He smiles.
“Don’t need to. I’d love to work with you all. For these people…and for Willa,” he says. I put my hand on his shoulder.
“For Willa,” I say. We stand up and fold our chairs up, getting ready to walk back out to the front of the building. But I pause.
“Mr. P.?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“I need to ask you something else.”
“Hit me.”
“Not just yet, but a little while from now...would it be okay if I asked Maryn to marry me?” I ask, my voice suddenly shaky.
He stops dead in his tracks and turns to me. It’s dead silent for a moment, and then a smile spreads across his face. Before I realize what’s happening, he pulls me in for a long, hard hug.
“Absolutely,” he says. I squeeze him back.
“Thank you, sir,” I say.
“What’s this love fest going on in here?” we hear Maryn ask as she makes her way toward us.
I look at Mr. Porter.
“Well, kid, Wyatt here just offered me a full-time position with the foundation,” he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Maryn’s eyes shoot from her father, to me, back to her father, and back to me. Then, she throws her hands up in the air and squeals.
“What?” she asks. “Oh my...oh, Dad! Oh, Wyatt, I...oh, Dad! No more factory work!”
We both laugh as she gathers herself, wrapping an arm around each of our necks.
Later that night, Maryn and I are on the couch in my apartment, watching television. She hasn’t fully moved in yet, but she basically lives here. Ellie has a pretty serious boyfriend that stays at their place all the time, and apparently, they are less than quiet while having sex. But aside from that, I like to think that Maryn also enjoys being with me.
About six months ago, she got a job with none other than Landry Hotels, right here in New York at one of their satellite offices. She’s on their marketing and communications team, and one of the first things she did was terminate their partnership with Caldell Communications and move it to another agency. I’m insanely proud of her. She always said she would have my job one day, but she was wrong. She’s going to rule the whole fucking world.
She’s lying against my chest, shoveling handfuls of popcorn into her mouth as I stroke her hair. When she’s done, she turns to me.
“I can’t believe you did that for Dad,” she says. I smile and shrug.
“I did it for him…and for you. But I also did it for those people. They need him. Willa would like my choice,” I say.
She pushes up on her knees and wraps her arms around my neck. She kisses my jaw, my nose, and then my lips. She smiles.
“I think Willa would like my choice, too.”
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I have to thank my family. No one will ever know the ups and downs that our little unit has been through, and no one will ever know how much stronger we are because of them. I love you psychos.
This next part sounds sarcastic, but it’s truly not. I’d like to acknowledge the people I’ve come across who spew hate; the people who spread rumors, the �
�neighbors” who are anything but neighborly. It’s because of you that I learned that everything isn’t always what it seems, and not to be so quick to judge.
To my blogger team who is constantly, CONSTANTLY waiting and willing to help read, promote, and spread the word about these books, I LOVE YOU and I can’t thank you enough. Seriously! I know you get thanked a lot, but I want to take a moment just to tell you how amazing you make the #bookstagram community. From the bottom of my heart, I can’t say it enough.
To Will and our babies, thank you for being the reasons why I keep doing what I love, and why I will never stop. Will, thanks for just sitting and letting me listen to the same writing playlist over, and over, and over again, and never judging my song choices (at least out loud).
To my writer friends, thanks for the constant reminder that I can always do more, write more, try more.
Other Books by Taylor:
THE MEADE LAKE SERIES
BACK TO SHORE
STONES UNTURNED
Coming soon…
In Winters Past
Moving Mountains
IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING
BUMPS ALONG THE WAY
OFF THE RECORD
ROWAN REVIVED
Fiancé for the Night
Copyright © 2017 Melissa McClone
Second Edition
ALL RIGHT RESERVED
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
Cover designer: Melissa Gill Design www.melissagilldesigns.com
Cardinal Press, LLC
Second Digital Edition, October 2017
ISBN-13: 978-1-944777-02-9
This was the original dedication from the 1999 edition:
To my husband, Tom,
for believing in dreams
and believing in me.
Here’s an updated dedication for this 2017 revised edition:
To my husband, Tom
Eighteen years, three kids, and forty-plus books later,
I can’t thank you enough
for always believing I could be an author.
A note from the author
Fiancé for the Night was originally published in 1999. The rights to the novel reverted to me from my publisher in 2016. After thinking about where I was as a writer when I wrote the manuscript—it was my first published novel—and where I am now and how much things had changed over the years, I decided to rewrite and update the story. By the time I’d finished, I’d added eight thousand words. I hope you enjoy this new edition!
1
“Would you be my fiancé?”
Fiancé? Troy McKnight must have misheard the blonde standing next to him due to the noise in the jam-packed San Francisco brewery. She was attractive with wide blue eyes, freckles across her nose, a heart-shaped face, and no makeup, but she wasn’t his type. With multiple chains and pendants hanging around her neck, dangling silver earrings, and a flowery dress, she looked out of place in the popular, after-work hangout, which was filled with the suit-and-tie crowd from nearby financial offices. He preferred women who dressed professionally. She was too bohemian looking.
He stared over the rim of his pint. “Excuse me, but what did you say?”
Releasing a sigh, she brushed her wavy blond hair behind her shoulders.
“Would you be my fiancé?” she repeated. “Just for tonight.”
Troy had heard her correctly the first time. He half-laughed. Her matter-of-fact tone made her proposition sound almost logical, and he knew it wasn’t the beer causing that. He’d only had one—the half-filled cold glass he held in his hand.
He took another swig from his lager. The cool liquid ran down his throat. After a rough day at the office, all he wanted was a drink followed by another quiet evening at home, nothing else.
Especially not this woman.
She hadn’t introduced herself. She could be a scam artist—a she-devil in disguise—and he the target. Even without lipstick, her full lips were luscious enough to seduce unknowing prey.
Troy set his glass on the bar. “Why do you need a fiancé tonight?”
“It’s a long story.”
Her sunshine-and-sunflower scent cut through the smell of beer hanging in the air. Okay, that was nice. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She reached for his hand, pushed back the arm of his suit, and read the time on his watch—a present from his parents when he graduated business school. “Yes, I knew it.”
“What?”
“You’re wearing a watch.”
He eyed her warily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I asked the right person.”
“You’re being evasive.”
“I don’t have time to explain. Are you coming with me?”
“You’re asking for a lot without providing any explanation.”
She rolled her eyes. “I got myself into a jam with my family. It’s only one dinner. My father will pay, so the only thing tonight will cost you is time. Any other questions?”
Troy hesitated, unsure if he bought her explanation. “Nothing personal, but you don’t look like the kind of woman who hangs out here.”
“I’m not, but my parents would approve of you and the men who frequent an establishment like this.”
That sounded plausible.
“Look, will you be my fiancé or not?” The edges of her mouth turned up slightly. “I’m sorry to be impatient, but if you say no, I have to find someone else.” She glanced around the bar as if she were scanning the area for her next target.
In the crowded brewpub, she could easily find someone else. Men with rolled-up sleeves and loosened ties stood at nearby tables, relaxing after long hours at the office.
Troy didn’t know why he was considering posing as her fiancé. The woman had appeared out of nowhere, yet he couldn’t deny his curiosity about her and her strange proposition. The concern and sense of urgency in her eyes rang true, but he never took risks. Spontaneity wasn’t part of his plan—a life plan to ensure he achieved all he wanted and would never have to return to his family’s farm in that middle-of-nowhere town in Missouri.
Staring at him, she waited for his answer by tapping her unpainted fingernails against the bar.
If he said no, she seemed to have no qualms about asking another man to be her fiancé for the night. He doubted she was a con artist. She looked too much like an innocent love child from the sixties with a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. In a meat market like this, a veritable smorgasbord of male testosterone, she could end up with anyone.
At least she would be safe with him.
“This is important to you, isn’t it?” he asked.
As she tilted her chin, her earrings chimed. “Yes.”
A free dinner with an attractive woman. It almost sounded too easy. Troy thought of Jessica White, who worked in the office next to his. Now she was his type, but he’d seen Jessica’s fiancé pick her up this afternoon.
For three years, Troy had wanted to ask her out, but he’d been too busy working to get around to it. Now she was engaged to someone else, and he was sitting in a bar with a total stranger. Maybe he needed a little adventure in his life.
He took another sip of his lager. “Okay, I’ll be your fiancé.”
The woman threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Oh, thank you.”
Her impulsiveness gave him a small thrill. The envious glances of other men in the bar made Troy sit straighter. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Grabbing his arm,
she pulled him off his barstool. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
Whoa! That was fast. Maybe an adventure wasn’t such a good idea. “I need to pay for my beer.”
Before Troy could reach his wallet, she opened her purse, a multicolored cloth pouch with drawstrings, and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Will this cover it?”
“Yes.” Call him old-fashioned, but he wasn’t used to a woman paying.
She tossed the money on the bar. “Is there anything else?”
He wanted to say yes. Stop. “No.”
“Let’s go then.” She led him out of the double glass doors.
A cool breeze blew off the San Francisco Bay. Cars sped by on the Embarcadero. To his right, the lights on the double-decker Bay Bridge twinkled in the evening sky. The pleasant October weather was a refreshing change from a day spent in a skyscraper.
“Do you have a car?” she asked.
“Not with me.”
She rubbed her temples. “We’ll take a taxi. That will be faster than calling for a ride.”
“Where are we—”
“I’ll explain everything once we’re on our way.”
She flagged a yellow cab and muttered the name of a trendy restaurant known for creating mouthwatering dishes and attracting a crowd of see-and-be-seen patrons.
He would be getting a good dinner tonight. Troy followed her into the cab.
As they pulled away from the curb, she laughed incredulously. “I’m going to pull this off.”
He watched her for a moment. Her unrestrained joy and boundless energy captivated him. He’d never met anyone like her.
She wet her lower lip. “I don’t know your name.”
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 287