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“That goes without saying, Elizabeth. And I understand why it’s so important to you. But—”
She put a hand out, pushing away the pain even as she redirected the conversation. “Can we get back to the crisis at hand, please?”
Mel sighed heavily. “Fine, but just so you know, I don’t see Thomas Waverly as a crisis. In fact, I find myself a little jealous of you. He’s one very prime specimen.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Elizabeth managed a nonchalant tone.
Mel wasn’t fooled. In fact, she nearly doubled over with laughter. Her mirth echoed off the bathroom tiles.
“Oh, please. You’d have to be dead not to notice, and even then I have a feeling that man could raise a woman’s pulse rate. Are you really going to sit there and tell me you don’t find him hot?”
“He’s attractive,” Elizabeth allowed.
Mel merely raised her brows at the bland assessment.
“Okay. He’s gorgeous. Drop-dead so. But we’re not going out on a date, Mel.” Elizabeth glanced at her reflection again. She liked what she saw—the softer hairstyle, the somewhat smoky eyes, the flirty dress. But that was the problem. She looked like a woman who was ready for an evening out. “I don’t want him to think that I think it’s a date.”
Mel pursed her lips. Unlike Elizabeth’s, they were an inviting pink color without any added gloss. “Why would that be a problem?”
“This is business. I need his donation.”
“I understand that, but I don’t think that’s the real answer.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You know me too well.”
“And don’t forget it. So, answer the question.” She crossed her arms in challenge.
“Come on. Look at me, Mel.”
“I am looking. I see a beautiful woman, not to mention one who is exceedingly smart and interesting.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Well, I am wearing your clothes.”
“I’m not just talking about what you’ve got on or the way your hair is styled, though that little finger-fluffing trick is flattering and a little extra gloss does wonders for what is already a great set of lips. But clothes, a different hairdo and a little more makeup don’t make you smart and interesting. That’s all you, honey.” She waited a beat before adding, “That dress does make you sexy, though.”
Mel’s perfectly arched brows bobbed twice for emphasis.
Her friend’s words should have done wonders for Elizabeth’s ego, but Elizabeth had never had much confidence in her looks. She chalked that up to the fact that from an early age her post-hippie parents had discouraged any sort of “enhancement” or improvement to one’s appearance. Both her folks sported long hair. Her mother wore hers in an unflattering ponytail. Her father’s was twisted into dreadlocks that streamed halfway to his waist. Skeet Morris didn’t believe in shaving. Neither did Elizabeth’s mother, Delphine. Anywhere. To this day her parents were mortified that Elizabeth wore her hair short and styled, dressed in conservative garb and had plucked the unibrow she’d sported throughout high school into two distinct arches.
“You’re my friend,” she reminded Mel.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be objective. Your problem, Elizabeth, is that you’ve spent your entire life blending into the background, so it makes you uncomfortable when you stand out.”
“That’s not true.” Not completely anyway. She was perfectly happy to stand out when it came to her job.
Mel crossed her arms over her chest again. “It’s a fact.”
“Okay, we’re getting off track here. I’m not after the man. I’m after his money.” When her friend’s lips twitched, she added, “You know what I mean. This is about a donation to Literacy Liaisons, one that very well could be large enough that you and I can sit back and relax for a while … figuratively speaking.”
But Mel wasn’t buying it. “I’ve never understood the big deal with mixing business with pleasure. As long as both parties go into it with their eyes wide open, why not? You’re both adults.”
Nerves fluttered in Elizabeth’s belly. “Maybe I should send you to meet with him. You’re a lot better at this sort of thing than I am.”
Mel manufactured an insulted expression and said, “Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean. Men swarm to you. Thomas Waverly would be putty in your hands. In fact, maybe I should have been sending you to call on potential donors all along. We’d already have our endowment.”
“Oh, no. No thanks.” Mel was shaking her head. “I’m good at flirting, honey, not finalizing deals. Besides, I prefer to remain behind the scenes.”
“So you always say.” Elizabeth reached for a tissue and blotted off a little of the coral-colored gloss. “I just don’t want to give Mr. Waverly the impression that I would be willing to sleep with him in order to ensure that he cuts the agency a sizable check.”
Mel winked. “Does that mean you’d be willing to sleep with him for reasons more primal?”
“God, Mel!” Elizabeth’s nerves kicked up again.
“Just askin’.” Grinning, her friend pointed to her wristwatch. “You’d better get going, Cinderella. Your ball is about to begin.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_5cd4f6f5-ee2b-5e01-8650-4d686bc571ea)
THOMAS did a double take when Elizabeth walked through the door of Antonio’s. He’d arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, assuming that he would have plenty of time to gather his thoughts and plot out his pitch. All of the women he knew were notorious for being late, in part because they preferred to make grand entrances. He should have known Elizabeth would be different. That was, after all, part of her appeal for the role he was about to ask her to play.
Even arriving early, she managed to make an entrance. No mouths dropped opened in awe, and conversations continued as before. But something inside of Thomas shifted before going oddly still. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
Who knew cute also could be so sexy?
Since their meeting a few hours earlier, she’d changed her clothes. No real surprise, since he had as well, trading in his business attire for a more casual pair of pants and a button-down shirt. He’d left off his tie, too, but he found himself tugging at his collar anyway.
Her transformation was far more dramatic. He wouldn’t have expected the woman he’d met in the severely cut suit and serviceable pumps to own such a fashionable outfit and shoes. The lines of the dress and the heels gave her the illusion of greater height. As small as she was, she had a pair of killer legs.
Because he felt himself beginning to ogle them, he returned his gaze to her face. That wasn’t the safer bet, he realized immediately. She’d done something different with her hair. It was no longer quite so straight and tidy. Tousled was the word that came to mind. He wondered if it would feel as soft as it appeared. As for that mobile mouth of hers, it was now twice as inviting thanks to a slick coat of tinted gloss. How would it taste?
Uh-oh.
He scrambled to put the brakes on the hormones that threatened to rev into hyperdrive. Given what he was about to propose, quite literally, he couldn’t afford to let anything more than business transpire between them. He couldn’t have her thinking he wanted more than what he was offering: a mutually beneficial business arrangement.
He stood when she reached the table. It was second nature, thanks to his grandmother, as was pulling out Elizabeth’s chair. In fact, Thomas beat the maitre d’ to it. The man smiled uncomfortably before withdrawing.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, as she settled in her seat.
Thomas glanced at his watch, even though it wasn’t necessary. “Actually, you’re early.”
“But not as early as you are.”
He shrugged and sat down. “It’s a habit of mine.”
A bad one according to the last four women he’d dated, those grand entrances and all. They didn’t appreciate answering the doorbell before they were ready to wow him with what waited on the other side.
“A good one,” Elizabeth said, as if reading his mind. “There’s nothing worse than keeping people waiting, at least in my book.”
Thomas agreed wholeheartedly, but that didn’t change his plan to keep her waiting, at least until the entrée course, before he started his pitch. By that point, he was hoping she wouldn’t stand up and walk out on him, though he wasn’t ruling out the possibility.
He bided his time, relying on small talk as their drinks arrived. She went with a glass of plain water garnished with a wedge of lemon. Although he wanted to brace himself with a scotch, neat, he settled for red wine, which he intended to sip slowly. He needed to keep a clear head—especially since the woman seated opposite him was having a definite, if odd, effect on his equilibrium. Nerves, he told himself. After all, he had a lot riding on the outcome of the evening. But then, so did she.
By the time the waiter brought their salads and a basket of warm rolls, they had thoroughly dissected the extended weather forecast for the upcoming holiday weekend. It was amazing how much people could talk without really saying anything. Recalling the passion and conviction with which Elizabeth had described her agency’s mission to him earlier, he had a feeling she would be an engaging conversationalist if they ever strayed from the standard polite topics. Because he wanted to, he didn’t. Stay with the script. This wasn’t a date.
Finally, their dinners arrived and the moment of truth was at hand. She’d just taken the first bite of her grilled salmon when he put down his fork and cleared his throat. She glanced over in question. Now or never, he decided.
“I mentioned on the phone that I had an unusual proposal for you.”
She nodded, swallowed. “Unorthodox is how I believe you phrased it.”
“Yes. It is. Very.” He swallowed as well, even though he had not yet touched his steak or the sautéed baby portabella mushrooms in wine sauce that smothered it. “I want to assure you, this isn’t something I make a habit of.”
Thomas had hoped to sound reassuring, but her expression made it clear he was doing a lousy job of it. She appeared a little alarmed, and no wonder given the way he was acting. Better just to get right to it, he decided, except that he didn’t. Rather, he went on in uncharacteristic bumbling fashion.
“It’s just that I find myself in a tight spot. I told someone—someone very dear to me—that I am … that is, that I have been seeing …” He laughed uncomfortably. “This is awkward.”
Across from him, Elizabeth smiled encouragingly, though he thought he saw her glance toward the exit.
“The long and the short of it is I need … I need a …” His gaze focused in on her mouth and he swore his own started to water. “I need a woman.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that he’d singled her out or concerned for her safety given his intense stare. One thing she knew for certain, she was curious. Why on earth did he need a woman? Surely female companionship was not in short supply for a man as successful and handsome as he was. There had to be a rational explanation for what he’d just said.
So, in her most polished business tone, she inquired politely, “Exactly what do you need a woman for, Mr. Waverly?”
“To act as my fiancée.”
He was exhaling in a gust, even as Elizabeth’s breathing stopped. She hadn’t seen this coming.
“Are you asking …? You want me to …? You want to get married?” Her voice rose on the last word. Some of the restaurant’s other patrons glanced their way.
“No. Actually, I just need someone to pose as my fiancée for a while.” He smiled weakly. “So, um, under the circumstances, I think you should call me Thomas.”
She rubbed her right temple in lieu of a response. She’d fallen into an alternative universe. That was the only explanation that made sense. She was wearing Mel’s dress and had somehow become, well, Mel. Except that in the big mirror on the wall behind Thomas, she could see her reflection. The dress was Mel’s, but Elizabeth was definitely the woman wearing it. And looking gobsmacked. She snapped her mouth closed.
“I know. Crazy, right?” Thomas said on an uncomfortable laugh.
“Certifiable,” she agreed.
Both of them were, because, Elizabeth now knew for sure that she was feeling flattered. Thomas Waverly, successful businessman and five-alarm hottie, wanted her to act as his fiancée? But …
“Why?” she managed to ask at last.
His expression sobered. “Before we get to that, I want to make it clear that I’m not expecting you to do me a favor. I was thinking more like, we could, uh, do each other a favor. You help me out by posing as my intended, and I personally match the donation I’ve already decided to make to Literacy Liaisons on Waverly Enterprises’s behalf. Between those two contributions, your endowment will be realized.”
Because her mouth threatened to fall open again, she took a sip of her water. This was more than she’d hoped for. It was everything she wanted, being handed to her on a silver platter. A silver platter held by one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. She checked the mirror a second time, giving that alternative universe theory another go. The same baffled- looking blonde as before gaped back at her. Again, Elizabeth asked, “Why?”
“Right.” He reached for his wine and took a sip. Setting the glass back on the table, he said, “Here’s the thing. I told my grandmother that I was involved in a serious relationship with a woman.”
“Serious as in headed toward the altar.”
“Right. The problem is I’m not, but she’s expecting to meet, um, my significant other …” He coughed. Choked? Before spitting out, “This weekend.”
The long holiday weekend was mere days away, and Elizabeth already had made plans to spend part of it with her parents at their annual soy burger-and-tofu barbecue, but that wasn’t what bothered her. Flattery only went so far. As did business dealings.
Her tone took on an edge that she rarely used and had never allowed to seep into her professional life when she said, “You lied to your grandmother?”
Hot or not, the man dropped several points in her estimation. Make that numerous points, and still counting. She didn’t care how handsome he was or how successful. Nor did it matter how desperate she was for his dual donation—and, God, she was desperate for that donation. But a man who would lie to a frail, helpless little old lady—and that was the image that came to Elizabeth’s mind—was a jerk. End of story. She retrieved the napkin from her lap and set it on the table, fully intending to leave.
Thomas rose part way from his chair as she stood. “Please. Stay and hear me out.”
“You lied to your grandmother,” she repeated flatly.
“Yes. I did. It sounds horrible, I know.” He dropped back into his seat.
“That’s one word for it,” Elizabeth replied crisply, unwilling to let him off the hook, no matter how appealing he looked wriggling from it. Still, he did look remorseful. Slowly, she returned to her seat and spread the napkin back over her lap. What would it hurt to hear him out?
“Let me give you a little background before you form a solid opinion of the situation.” Thomas held out his hands in appeal. “She claimed to be dying and, well, seeing me happily settled is a priority for her. I was hoping to take her mind off her aches and pains.”
“Your grandmother is dying?”
“Her doctor says no, but …” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “She’s sure she is. And she’s not easily dissuaded once her mind is made up. I hate seeing her so troubled, especially when there’s no need to be. I’m fine. Perfectly happy, in fact. I’m just not married and making great-grandbabies for her to spoil.”
“So you’re lying to her to protect her?”
“I don’t want to lie at all, but yes. If she thinks I’m heading toward ‘I do,’ then she’ll be able to enjoy her life again. She deserves that.”
“That’s … sweet.” And it was.
At least his unorthodox offer was rooted in something other than blatant self-interest. Still, what he was suggesting was crazy, but no more so than the fact that Elizabeth was actually considering it.
“Do you really think your grandmother would buy that you and I are …” She made a winding motion with her index finger, unable to speak the actual words. “I can’t believe I’m your usual type.”
She wasn’t angling for a compliment. She wasn’t expecting him to tell her that she was beautiful or even that he found her attractive. Expecting? No. But part of her must have been hoping, she realized, when her heart pinched painfully at his reply.
“You’re not my type in the least, which, in a way, makes you perfect. My grandmother knows the sort of women I prefer to date. Since I’ve never allowed something serious to begin with them, she assumes that’s because I’ve been dating women who are all wrong for me.”
“Have you been?” She immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s really none of my business.” Even if she was, at this very moment, considering becoming his bride-to-be, at least for appearances’ sake.
“Possibly. Probably.” He shrugged carelessly. “I’m not looking for a deep and committed relationship. That’s not what I’m after.”
Ah, one of those. Elizabeth had dated a couple such men just out of college, not that she’d known their preferences going in, of course. Nope. She’d found out the hard way and wound up with a dinged-up heart for her naiveté.
“Which reminds me,” Thomas was saying. “I never thought to ask if you were seeing someone.”
His complexion bleached a little as he awaited her reply. She wasn’t trying to exploit that with her hesitation. She just wanted to find a way to relay her single status without making herself sound like a loser.
“I date here and there,” she said at last. “But I’m not seeing anyone in particular.”
