My Fake Fiancee Read online

  Which reminded her that she wasn’t at her freshest, either.

  When they entered the town house, she said, “I should shower.”

  “Later.”

  Wetness flooded her at the desperate way he uttered the word. He needed her as urgently as she needed him.

  He pushed open the door and pulled her inside, back into his arms. Not bothering to turn on a light, he banged into a wall, swearing softly, and then paused there to kiss her deeply.

  They sprinted up the stairs and he pulled her to him again.

  They bashed into the doorway of his bedroom, where he pulled up her skirt and peeled down her panties while simultaneously toeing off his shoes while she tugged his belt buckle open.

  He dragged off the suit jacket and then hoisted her up, like he couldn’t even manage the last two steps to his bed. She wrapped her legs around him and impaled herself on him, crying out with deep-seated pleasure as she did so. He reached so deeply into her, the head of his penis hitting the perfect spot. So she groaned, holding on and then beginning to move.

  The tails of his white shirt flapped against her thighs as she thrust blindly against him. She heard a thud and realized, dimly, that she was still wearing her pumps. She was fully clothed but for her panties. Somehow, their very haste was an extra turn-on. Instead of feeling skin rubbing against skin, her breasts against his hot chest, she heard the soft hushing of two white cotton shirts getting intimate with friction. But his mouth was on hers, raw and hot and wet as they clung together. She felt the effort in his arms of holding her up, felt the stretch of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his hips and hung on. But most of all she felt surging excitement as they took each other against the doorjamb in the dark.

  All of a sudden, he moved, carrying her with him, and they fell onto the bed. “Can’t hold on,” he muttered, reaching for a condom.

  He donned it quickly and then he was inside her, stroking, reaching, driving them both up, and up. Oh, he was good at this, she thought, wondering how many women had been pleasured by him, how many had been fooled into thinking it meant anything, when her thought process was short-circuited by the swamping waves of pleasure that drowned out thought, drowned out everything but feeling.

  With a soul-deep cry, she came, hearing his own cries in the echo of her own, feeling that her heart had burst.

  Oh, they were good together. Their pace perfect, their rhythm in harmony. She suspected she’d never find anyone who suited her quite so magically, wondered if he ever would and was vain enough to be certain he wouldn’t. Fool.

  Well, she didn’t have him for a long time, but now she was here, she was going to enjoy him to the fullest while she had this last night with him.

  So, she abandoned herself to him for this one night only.

  She opened.

  She gave.

  She accepted.

  And when dawn streaked through his window, while he was sleeping, his face a shadowed pleasure to her, she kissed him softly and then rolled out of bed, gathering her clothes and tiptoeing to her own room.

  The sheets were so cold, the room so empty, but then, so was her romantic future, she reminded herself. She’d indulged foolishly for one magical night. Now she had to get back to reality. A reality that sadly didn’t include the man she loved.

  DAVID ROLLED OVER, seeking the willing warmth of the woman sleeping beside him, and found instead a pillow, scented with her smell, and rumpled bedclothes. When he forced open heavy eyelids, he discovered he was alone in his room.

  The bedside clock told him it was ten. His exhaustion told him he hadn’t had much sleep.

  He assumed she was in the bathroom and waited for her to return, already thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her. But when ten minutes went by and she hadn’t, he got up to look for her.

  He found her in her own bed, sleeping peacefully. She was so neat. She’d barely made a dent in the mattress and all the covers were as tidy as though she’d only slipped into bed and then never moved.

  Unlike his bed, which bore all the evidence of a night of wild sex.

  As he watched her sleeping, he felt a weird shifting feeling somewhere in his chest. Felt like all the warning symptoms of a heart attack rolled into one powerful punch.

  Her dark hair was tousled, her dark lashes fanned in sleep, her breathing soft and shallow.

  He wanted to crawl into bed beside her, kiss her awake, possibly never leave that bed for his whole life.

  Forcing himself out of her room and backing away to the kitchen, he decided what he really needed was coffee. It was fatigue and caffeine deprivation making him feel so strange.

  Had to be.

  He brewed coffee and sucked back the first cup greedily, but it didn’t help. If anything, the caffeine jolt only increased the strange feeling in his chest.

  Deciding that action was his best bet, he scrawled a quick note for Chelsea and then headed back to the van, returned the dishes to the rental place, filled the van with gas and drove it back to his buddy.

  That done, he came home to find Chelsea awake and sipping coffee. She was freshly showered, dressed in a pair of those sexy jeans she loved and a sleeveless sort of billowy top in some kind of sheer cotton that filled him with the urge to slip it off her body. The second he saw her, the tight feeling in his chest eased. “Hi.”

  He wasn’t sure whether to cross the room and kiss her or fall back on their old routine. He took a step forward, deciding that he really needed to touch her, only to have her jump up and scamper into the kitchen, where she somehow managed to wall herself in behind the granite countertop, so she had her own personal kitchen fortress.

  Her cheeks appeared a little flushed and he thought she was nervous.

  “Thanks so much for returning all that stuff. You shouldn’t have,” she said, opening the fridge and looking into it, though he couldn’t imagine what she wanted there.

  “I didn’t mind. I was up and you were still sleeping.”

  She pulled out a carton of milk. “Want some breakfast?”

  What did she have in mind, a milk shake? He found her sudden shyness appealing. So he breached her fortress and came up behind her, putting his arms around her. “I had a great time last night,” he said, kissing her nape.

  For a moment he felt her lean back against him, a tiny murmur of agreement rumbling in her throat. Then immediately she stiffened and drew away. Turned and presented a bright face. “Me, too. This friends-with-benefits thing definitely works.”

  Friends with benefits? That’s what they were? For some reason, the notion offended him on some deep level. He backed away. “Right. Yeah. Anytime you feel the urge.”

  She replaced the milk carton and shut the fridge door.

  “Oh, Piers called. He left his home number. Asked you to call him back.”

  “Piers called me at home? On a Sunday?” It was so unusual he knew something was up. “Wow. This must be it. The official offer.”

  “That’s great,” she said. “I’m truly happy for you.”

  He didn’t care if she did rebuff him, he walked over and hugged her. “I couldn’t have got here without you.”

  She squeezed her arms around him and leaned in for a moment. “I guess we really have helped each other’s careers. Glad it all worked out.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  He called his boss back and Piers asked if he could meet him that day for lunch.

  “Of course.” When he got off the phone, he turned to Chelsea. “Tonight let’s celebrate. I got my new job, you’ve got a business already off the ground. How about I buy you the fanciest dinner in Philly. You pick the place.”

  She had this funny little line between her brows like she was in the middle of a math test and didn’t know any of the answers. “I don’t think so,” she said. Just like that. No excuses, no reason given at all, just ‘I don’t think so.’

  But he wasn’t the subtle type. Never had been. If she was trying to send him a message he wished she�
�d give it to him straight. “Why not? What’s up?”

  “I’m happy for you, David. I really am. I’m happy we both got what we want, but I can’t keep playing this game. We’re not in love. We’re not getting married. Let’s get on with our lives and wish each other the best.”

  He was so stunned he could barely take it in. She was blowing him off? After last night?

  But he was nothing if not cool. So he shrugged. “Sure, if that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is.”

  Okay, then, he thought. Don’t be surprised if I take some other woman out to celebrate. There were plenty who’d be only too happy to spend time in his company, he reminded himself. He didn’t need a moody caterer messing with his mind.

  This should be the happiest day of his life, he thought as he dressed with care for Sunday lunch with his boss.

  He even wore the tie she’d picked out for him, figuring it was good luck and maybe she’d feel bad if she saw him wearing her tie even after she’d blown him off for dinner. But when he emerged from his room all ready for his big lunch, she’d left the town house.

  Fine. It was all fine.

  He made his way to the restaurant where he was meeting Piers and put all thoughts of Chelsea out of his mind. Mostly.

  Piers was there ahead of him in his Sunday attire—he looked like a ship’s captain with a navy blazer and an ascot. He rose and the men shook hands.

  They made the usual chitchat until lunch was served and then Piers said, “I wanted to have a meeting with you outside of the office. It’s a matter of some awkwardness.”

  “Absolutely, I understand,” he said, even though he didn’t.

  “I’m going to get right to the point. Damien Macabee has decided not to retire this year after all.”

  “What?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. After all he’d gone through to prove he was the man to be the next VP? He’d worked his ass off. He’d found a fake fiancée and pretended to be engaged! What more was he supposed to do?

  “It’s very surprising news. The truth is, I think as retirement grew closer he didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. His wife’s still working—and judges seem to go on forever—and lately he’s found a renewed appetite for the business.” Piers sighed, looking truly distressed. “It’s rare that I make a fool of myself, David, but I feel that I have over this business. I do want you as a VP of this company, make no mistake. You’ve worked hard and I know you’ve made sacrifices.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Yes, we don’t want to lose you. And Macabee is willing to mentor you, to give you the benefit of his years of experience in the industry. I know it’s disappointing not be a VP quite yet, but I think it’s a great opportunity.”

  “How long would it be?”

  “Before you had the position?”

  He nodded.

  “We’re looking at a three-year time frame.”

  Three years.

  His opinion of waiting three years must have shown on his face, for Piers said, “It seems like a lifetime to you now, but believe me, when you get to my age, three years is nothing. Enjoy your time with Chelsea, have a fantastic wedding and get used to married life. Your life will be hectic enough, and you’re still our top salesman.”

  “I need to think about this.” He ran one hand through his hair. “Wow.” The unfairness of this whole mess began to flood him. “I get headhunted, you know?”

  “Of course, I know. Any company would be lucky to have you. I can only hope, when you’ve had a chance to think things through, that you’ll realize that you’re not worse off with us. To have Damien mentor you, to have all his expertise and wisdom at your disposal, as well as the great salary you already bring in…” He let the sentence trail off. “Talk it over with Chelsea. Hasty decisions are often bad ones.” He shook his head. “I made one myself. I should have waited until Macabee formally retired before speaking with you. But there, what’s done is done. I truly hope we can build you to be a future leader of our company.”

  He wanted to throw down his napkin, maybe dash a glass of water in Piers’s face and march out of the restaurant. But he managed to control himself. If lunch wasn’t the outrageous success, complete with champagne toasts, that he’d anticipated, at least he managed to keep his cool.

  Right now, he needed to consider his options.

  A long walk in the park helped calm him and when he got home he was cooler, at least, if not exactly calm.

  He walked into the town house and yelled, “Chelsea?” For some reason, it was important that she be here. He really needed to tell her about his crappy day.

  “David?” She was in the living area, all dressed like she was going out, and he thought she looked a little guilty. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Thought you’d be out celebrating.”

  He flopped onto the couch and loosened his tie. “Nothing to celebrate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Macabee’s not retiring after all. He wants to make a three-year plan for me to be groomed. Three frickin’ years. I can’t believe it.”

  “Oh, David. I’m so sorry.” She sat beside him, put a hand on his knee, and it was the most comforting gesture he could imagine.

  “Yeah. Pretty much sucks.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Go work for the competition maybe, take them down.” But even in his own ears his threats sounded groundless. Truth was, they hadn’t lied to him or done him wrong, Piers had been overeager to offer him a position he was dying to occupy. They still planned for him to be the next VP. But he was going to have to wait a little longer.

  He shook himself out of his unaccustomed downer. “So, you’re all dressed to go out. Hot date?” Which, after last night, would explain the look of guilt on her face.

  “No. Actually, I’m moving out.”

  He jerked upright. “When?”

  “Now. Tonight.”

  “But…why?”

  “David, you don’t need me anymore. Our deal was for me to masquerade as your fiancée until you got the VP job and for you to let me stay here and use your kitchen until my business got started. Well, you don’t need a fake fiancée anymore, and I don’t need a place to stay and a kitchen anymore. I have my own.”

  He was so outraged he didn’t know what to say. He spluttered, “So, you’re leaving me?”

  Her smile was semisweet. “For me to leave you would imply that I ever had you. The truth is, I never did. Never could.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. “It’s better this way.”

  But he wasn’t having any of it. “Better for who?”

  She rose, picked up her bulging bag. “Me, I guess.”

  “But, I don’t want…”

  “Goodbye, David.”

  He thought the hollow clink of her leaving her front door key in his key dish was the saddest sound he’d ever heard.

  25

  CHELSEA WORKED WITH a vengeance, cleaning, organizing, ordering supplies and preparing for a busy couple of weeks. True to her word, Karen had appointed her the go-to caterer for If You Can Dream It, and so her fledgling business was already thriving. Plus, Mrs. Sloane, true to her word, had recommended Chelsea and Chelsea was catering a fiftieth wedding anniversary dinner and a business cocktail party thanks to the woman’s words in the right ears.

  She was scrambling to pull together a champagne breakfast for seventy in two weeks followed by an evening event for a mixed marriage. The happy couple wanted to celebrate their two cultures in food. Polish and Chinese.

  “I’m thinking dim sum perogies and egg drop borscht,” she joked to Karen as she tried to design a menu that made some kind of sense.

  But she was having fun, more fun than she could have imagined. Her life was going exactly as it should. She was doing the work she was born to do, and woke up every day eager to leave her tiny apartment and run downstairs to her huge kitchen. The shop-front part of her ope
ration was already profitable, thanks to Karen getting her a plug in the newspaper. So far, she was sticking to simple fare—appetizers, casserole dinners and a selection of desserts, made fresh daily that busy people could pick up on their way home from work, heat up and enjoy a gourmet feast for a fairly reasonable price.

  If there was a persistent ache in her heart, she ignored it as best she could. In the daytime, it was easy. She was crazy busy and thriving on the challenges being thrown at her constantly. At night it was a lot tougher. She’d curl up in her small bed in the studio apartment and think about David. Wonder where he was, what he was doing. Was he eating properly?

  Truth was, love sucked.

  It was a lesson she thought she’d learned in high school but it seemed she’d needed a refresher course.

  They’d even seen each other a couple of times. His parents had held the barbecue, as promised, and of course, Chelsea had gone.

  If they were disappointed to find she and David distant with each other, they were too polite to mention it and besides, the obvious budding love affair between Sarah and Mike was obviously a source of huge satisfaction.

  Chelsea thought he looked tired and a little gaunt, then reminded herself that he had work troubles. It had only been a couple of weeks since she’d moved out, but no doubt she was already nothing but a distant memory to him.

  When was she going to get over this ridiculous unrequited love business?

  A tiny voice in her head warned her that was likely to be never.

  Sarah was so happy it was fun to be around her. She’d finally let herself fall and she’d fallen hard. When she heard that Mike had booked them an overnight sleepover at the zoo, and that Sarah was actually excited about the prospect, Chelsea suspected it wouldn’t be long before she’d be catering her best friend’s wedding. Which was going to be tough since she also planned to be the maid of honor. Oh, well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  It was a busy weekday afternoon when tired workers stopped to pick up something for dinner.

  Having bagged an ever popular heat-and-serve lasagna, which she sold as a package including garlic bread, Ceasar salad and her wickedly good chocolate-fudge brownies for dessert, she figured her counter staff, Giselle and Jonathan, could handle the few remaining customers on their own.