Tara set a stack of napkins on the table and slid onto the bench opposite them. “Why don’t you sit next to Rick? You’re crowding him.”
Rick had never had a little girl take to him before. In fact, he’d never been around kids much. He kind of liked her snuggling into him. “It’s okay. She can sit on my lap.”
Kylee looked up at him with adoration written across her face. “What ice cream do you like?”
“I like butter pecan.”
Kylee wrinkled her nose. “Not chocolate?” Apparently the child couldn’t comprehend anyone liking anything except chocolate.
He chuckled. “I like chocolate, too.”
When they were done eating the ice cream, they traveled back to his home. Kylee fell asleep in her booster seat, and Tara had to lift her out and carry her up the stairs. She removed the little girl’s sandals and put her in the guest bed. He still hadn’t set up another room for the girl and felt bad that Tara had to sleep with her daughter.
When Tara was done covering up Kylee, she walked out and closed the door behind her.
“I can have the other guest bedroom set up tomorrow,” Rick said.
Tara worried her lower lip. “I was going to talk to you about that,” she said, her voice hushed. “Can she stay in my room?”
“Why?”
Her eyes darkened, and he wondered what was hidden behind them. “I just want to keep her close.”
He walked with her down the stairs. “I don’t understand.”
Hesitancy slowed her steps. “I’m not being very . . . responsible. I don’t want my own recklessness to hurt my daughter.”
Rick stopped. “You think I would hurt her?” How could she think that of him?
“No, not like that.” Her gaze dropped. “It’s just that she’s been through a lot. Her father . . .”
The thought of Bobby laying a finger on that little girl made his blood freeze. His hands involuntarily clenched into fists. “What did he do?”
“He turned into a different person after fame hit. He didn’t physically hurt her. The stress of the part wore on him though. He was short with her. Made promises he didn’t keep. Then, near the end, he just wasn’t around anymore. He’s supposed to spend a few weeks with her this summer, but so far he’s made up excuses for why he can’t take her. She keeps asking when she’s going to see him. It breaks my heart. I want to be there for her. What I’m doing . . . this probably wasn’t a good decision.”
Moisture gathered in her eyes and she blinked it away. Rick didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to comfort her? Was it awkward to pull her into his arms when they barely knew each other? He ended up patting her on the back. “It’s okay.”
“No, I don’t think it is. Her father abandoned her, and she’s going to go through that again when we separate. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She rubbed her arms like she was cold.
“Listen. Kids are resilient. She’ll bounce back.”
That must not have been the right thing to say, because Tara stiffened and her mouth set into a hard line.
“And it’s fine if you want her in your room. There’s no harm in that.”
She gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”
They continued walking and he shoved his fists in his pockets. “Phil wants an official engagement photo to send to the papers. The photographer is coming at one.”
“What should I wear?”
He wasn’t sure what a person wore to an engagement photo shoot. “Something nice?”
“Okay.”
Turns out he didn’t have to guess what to have her wear. Phil came in before the shoot with a box full of designer clothes. All the top designers wanted Tara to be wearing their label for the photos.
When she came in the drawing room wearing a blue evening gown that hugged her curves, her hair pulled up, Rick’s mouth went dry. She nervously clutched the necklace she wore.
The photo equipment was already set up. He stepped over an extension cord and around a light so he could take her hand, hoping to calm her anxiety. “You look lovely.”
She glanced up at him. “You look nice, too.”
The photographer ushered them to the other side of the room. “We’ll start in here, then I’d like to get a few outdoor shots as well.”
He photographed them in a few formal poses with Rick’s arms around her, her hand on his arm so the public could see the engagement ring. The feeling of his skin against the soft silky dress was making his heart beat faster, and he wondered if Tara was at all affected by their close proximity.
“Now, kiss her,” the camera man said.
Rick’s breath caught. It was only logical that he would have to kiss Tara. They were getting married in the public eye. He just hadn’t expected it yet. And he knew Tara well enough to know she wouldn’t take such a thing lightly. He raised one eyebrow to silently ask her approval.
She gave him a subtle nod and then lifted her chin and closed her eyes. He brushed his lips against hers in a feather-light kiss. The softness of her lips combined with the feel of her in his arms created an intoxicating effect, and he inched closer. His heart raced and he was sure Tara could feel it under her fingertips, which were pressed to his chest. He kissed her again, this time more slowly, and his head begin to spin.
Kissing Tara was like nothing he’d ever experienced. It was longing and desire, wrapped up together in an intense heat. It brought back memories of kissing Scarlett, his ex, under the moonlight, only that had been a tiny flame compared to the raging fire now consuming him. The feelings invading him were unwanted and he pulled back, breaking the kiss.
A memory of last night came to him unbidden. He had danced with Tara, and he’d kissed her. He’d been playing it up for the camera, doing what he did best. Acting. But as they kissed, something changed. What started out as pretend soon turned real. He’d gotten wrapped up in it.
And that’s why he’d gotten drunk and proposed.
He sucked in a breath. He’d done it to get the whole thing over with.
Tara looked up at him, a question mark on her face. He smoothed his features into a smile and turned to the camera man. “We done?”
“Not yet. Let’s go get some outdoor shots.”
They headed to the garden and took some more pictures. A few of them turned playful, and he knew they looked good for the camera. When the photographer said they were done, Rick nodded, let go of Tara, and turned to go inside. He didn’t want to deal with anything at the moment.
What he really wanted was a drink.
Chapter 7
Tara followed Rick into the house and back to his office. Something was bothering him, and she wanted answers. She’d seen the instant change in him after the kiss. The same thing that had happened at the club before he’d gone off and gotten plastered.
He entered his office and opened a cabinet, pulling out a bottle. She should have guessed. She leaned against the doorjamb, one hand on her hip. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He turned to her with a start, guilt showing on his face. He didn’t say anything, so she continued. “You shouldn’t be drinking.”
“I promised Phil I wouldn’t drink in public.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Phil? What did he say about it?”
The guilty look intensified, and his hand wavered.
She crossed the room, not brave enough to take the bottle from him, but hoping she could talk him out of it. “Look, it’s none of my business what you do after I leave. But while I’m here with Kylee, I think it’s best if you put away the alcohol.”
He stared at her, his expression clouded. Then he nodded and put the bottle back. He closed the cabinet.
They stood there for a couple of seconds, neither one speaking. Tara wasn’t sure how far she should push him. Would he talk about it if she asked? She mulled over what she should say. Finally, she gathered up her courage to speak. “I’ve upset you.”
“No, it’s not you.”
Tara allowed another
few seconds to tick by. “Did you love her?”
A sad smile flitted onto his face. “Yes.”
“Unrequited love is the worst.”
His gaze hardened. “Yeah.”
The way he said it meant that wasn’t it at all, but she wasn’t going to pry. He’d tell her if he wanted to. As he turned to leave, she stepped in front of him, an idea popping into her head. “Kylee was asking if we could watch a movie tonight. Want to join us?” If she kept him busy, maybe he’d forget about whoever broke his heart.
He paused, and then nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay. I’ll feed her and we can watch it after that.”
Rick stepped toward her hesitantly. “You could . . . eat dinner with me. I can tell Eliza to make enough for all of us.”
He was reaching out to her, and she knew she should take hold of it, but she didn’t want to back down from her principles. She wrung her hands, indecision running through her. “I don’t want the staff waiting on me.”
One side of his mouth pulled down into a frown. “You don’t mind going to a restaurant, do you?”
“No.”
“Why is this different?”
She was about to say that running a restaurant was their job, but she clamped her mouth shut. He paid the staff here, too. But for some reason it felt odd to have someone wait on her at home. She finally settled with a lame, “It just is.”
He looked like he was trying not to smile. “Okay. Fine. I’ll make dinner.”
Her gaze snapped up to his. He was going to cook? Just to please her? The thought warmed her. “That would be nice. I can help.”
“I’ll give Eliza the night off.”
That made her even happier. “I’m sure she would appreciate that.”
Rick smiled and loosened his tie. “Then I’ll go get changed into something more comfortable.”
She nodded, delighted at the turn of events. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”
Tara changed into jeans and a comfortable shirt. She brought Kylee down to the kitchen. When she walked in, Rick was opening and closing cupboards, rifling through them. Kylee climbed up on a barstool, clutching her favorite Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal. Eliza stood against the far counter, her arms crossed over her chest, frowning.
“What are you looking for?” Tara asked.
Rick continued his rampage. “I found a recipe online for garlic chicken. Thought I’d make it. But I can’t find the . . .” He looked down at his iPad. “Cornstarch. And Eliza’s not being helpful.”
“You want to make it, then you can find the ingredients.” Eliza tapped her foot impatiently.
“We just thought it would be nice to give you the evening off,” Tara said.
“I don’t want the evening off. I’ve got a kid in college and tuition is due soon.”
Rick glanced at her, a pained look on his face. “I’ll make it a paid night off if you tell me where the cornstarch is.”
She raised her eyebrows, then walked over to a cupboard he’d already rummaged through and grabbed a box. “Here.” She shoved it at him, took off her apron and hung it on a hook. “Have fun.”
After she left the room, Tara turned to Rick. “Why was she upset? What did you say to her?”
He made a face. “Why do you assume she’s mad at me?”
“Well obviously she’s not happy about something. And who gets mad about not having to serve you dinner?”
“Apparently Eliza,” he said under his breath.
“Something else must be upsetting her. I’ll talk to her later.” Tara picked up his iPad and read the rest of the recipe. Together they pulled everything out while Kylee sat and spun back and forth on the barstool.
“You start searing the chicken and I’ll measure out the ingredients.” Rick handed the skillet to Tara.
She placed it on the stove and turned on the flame. After tearing the plastic wrap off the meat, she placed the chicken in the pan and went to find a spatula. The first three drawers didn’t have what she needed.
“Did you see a whisk in those drawers?” Rick asked.
After rummaging to find his whisk and her spatula, a smoky smell stung her nose. “Oh, no. Something’s burning.”
She ran to the stove and picked up the skillet. Unfortunately, she picked it up too quickly and the chicken breasts went flying. One hit the tile floor and skidded under the stool where Kylee sat. The other bounced on the counter then fell to the floor.
Kylee clapped her hands and laughed. “Do it again, Mommy!”
Rick’s lips twitched. “A new way of seasoning?”
“Yes. It gives your dinner a nice stone flavor.” Her face heated as she leaned over and retrieved the meat. She turned on the faucet.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Rinsing the chicken. This isn’t my first mishap in the kitchen, and I’m sure it won’t be my last.”
Rick frowned. “Why don’t you throw them away? I’m sure there’s more.”
“That would be a waste. They’re still good. Plus, your floors are cleaner than most people’s tables.” She stuck the chicken under the faucet and rinsed them off. “See? They’re good as new.”
His frown deepened. “And only a little burned.”
“Exactly.” She grinned at him. “No need to throw them away.” She put them in the skillet and this time searched for the spatula before putting them back on the heat.
Rick shook his head, then turned around and continued to whisk his concoction. She thought she heard him mutter something that sounded a lot like, ‘Crazy woman,’ but she ignored him. Wasting good food was crazier than washing it off and using it.
After she was done searing the meat, she put it in an oven-safe dish and Rick poured the contents of his bowl over it. She put the lid on and slid it into the oven. She then sanitized the counter and the floor where the raw chicken had landed.
Rick stood there staring at her, but didn’t say anything. She rinsed off the dishes they’d used, then turned to him. “Want to wash or dry?”
He looked at her with an incredulous expression on his face, one eyebrow raised.
“Come on.” She whacked him on the arm. “It won’t kill you.”
“Fine. I’ll dry.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a dish towel.
Kylee grew excited as she saw the sink filling with bubbles. “I want to do dishes!”
“Okay, honey, you can help.” Tara pulled Kylee’s stool over to the sink so she could play in the bubbles. Tara grabbed a rag and washed the bowl Rick had used, rinsed it, then handed it to him. After he dried it and found where to put it away, she nudged him. “See? I knew you could do it. You’re a domestic god.”
He shot her a cheesy movie star grin. “I’ve been called all kinds of things, but I think that’s a new one.”
She stuck the skillet into the water. “Thank goodness there are no reporters here. Rick Shade Puts Away a Dish would be headline news.”
He swiped his finger into the bubbles and smeared them on her nose. She laughed and scooped up a large pile.
“I didn’t put that much on you. That’s not fair.”
“You started it.” She came at him but he backed away.
Kylee giggled and shouted, “Get him, Mommy!”
She stood opposite him, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Kylee squealed and Rick turned his head. Tara took advantage of the distraction and jumped at him, smearing the side of his face with bubbles.
“Hey!” Rick grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She laughed as she tried to free herself.
“Oh, no,” he said in her ear, his voice low. “You’re not getting away with that.”
Her heart thumped in her chest at his close proximity. “Okay, okay. I surrender.”
He let her go and she ran to the sink, grabbing more bubbles.
The surprised look on his face, combined with the white mass of bubbles that had slid down his cheek and was now hanging from his jaw, made her giggle.
“You’re not playing fair.” He rushed at her and Kylee pealed with laughter. Tara took off around the other side of the island. Rick picked up a dirty measuring cup and scooped up some dish water.
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“I would.” He stood stone still for a moment. The second his arm began to move, Tara ducked. Greta entered the kitchen and got a face full of soapy water.
Greta gasped. “What is going on in here?” She wiped at the water on her face.
Kylee laughed and Rick picked up the towel and tossed it to Greta. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant for you.”
Tara couldn’t help but join in Kylee’s laughter. “Sorry, Greta,” she said between giggles. She flicked the soap suds off her hand and into the sink. “We were just messing around.”
Greta’s gaze bounced between Rick and Tara for a moment before she said, “I see.” She patted her face with the towel. “I just came to check on things. Eliza said you gave her the night off. Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” Rick said.
“Her cooking has been to your liking?”
“Oh, good grief,” Tara said. “Is that what she was worried about? We just wanted to make something ourselves tonight. Eliza is an amazing cook, but she doesn’t have to wait on us hand and foot.”
Greta nodded, looking at Tara. “Eliza said you wouldn’t let her cook for you earlier, either. Will you be taking over the kitchen tomorrow as well?”
Rick looked over to Tara, like he was leaving the decision up to her. Tara didn’t want to take over the kitchen. That was not what this was about. But apparently giving Eliza some time off was offensive. Seemed like no matter what she did, she lost. She sighed. “No.”
“Very well.” Greta tossed the towel on the counter and left the room.
“I feel like we’ve just been reprimanded,” Tara said.
Rick laughed. “Maybe so.” He came over to her and wiped her nose with his finger. “You still have some suds on you.” His smile was genuine. Not the fake one he donned for the cameras. She liked how it looked on him.
A Fake Marriage Romance Collection Page 70