The Fake Fiancée

He shook his head. “We’ll have to be seen out together. My mother has a network of friends. She wouldn’t believe we have a serious relationship if we aren’t spotted around town. We’re supposedly on the brink of getting married.”

Lisa sighed, conceding his point. “Fine, but no meeting the kids. They’re a little confused right now, basically due to their father’s desertion. Brad, my husband, wasn’t…He didn’t…”

She jumped to her feet, unable to stay still.

“It wasn’t an amicable divorce?” Joe asked.

She snorted, then caught herself and paced away. “No, it wasn’t. It’s been a year and a half of upheaval for the kids.” She leaned back against his desk and gazed into mid-distance between them as some of those upheavals ran through her mind. The children’s tears. Her shock at sudden bankruptcy. Their nightmares. Their confusion and hurt.

“Is there any chance you and your husband might—?”

“No.” She shuddered. Not even for the children.

Joe nodded. He tapped steepled fingers against his full lower lip. Lisa ground her teeth, both irritated at him for his relaxed position while her world teetered to disaster, while also impatient with herself for noticing his seductive mouth at such a time.

“So what am I supposed to be?”

She swallowed another lump of pride and confessed, “You’re the provider of a contract that’ll bail me out of a financial bind.”

“No, I meant what will your children think I am to you?”

She stared at him. Having forced herself to admit she needed money so badly, she couldn’t switch tracks fast enough to follow his train of thought.

“Am I posing as your lover or whatever the kids would call it?” His mouth twisted. “Your boyfriend, I suppose.”

Lisa snapped her mouth closed. “No, that’s not what I’d planned, at all. I thought you could just be my client.”

Joe stood and walked toward her.

She forgot how to breathe.

“I’ll be picking you up for dates, for my parents’ sake, remember? Your children will know we’re more than business associates.”

“Not…not if I explain that I’m doing you a favor.”

His smile was less than nice. “But you’re not going to explain that to them. You’re not going to explain it to anyone. Word gets around. Kids tell kids, who tell parents, who might know me or my folks.”

“Oh.” Her pounding heart impeded her thinking. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. Maybe being around Joe wasn’t such a great idea.

“It’s our secret. You’re my girlfriend, lover, or whatever you want to call yourself.”

“Girlfriend,” she interjected, shying away from the thought of being Joe’s lover.

“Fine.” He leaned so close his cool breath brushed her lips. She inhaled his male warmth. His gaze held hers. “My parents will consider us almost engaged. We don’t tell anyone the truth.” His low voice compelled her to agree. “We pretend to be madly in love with each other. Understand?”

Compelling was one thing; intimidating was another. She simmered. Who did he think he was? She’d put up with too much garbage in the past eighteen months to be pushed around by Joe Riley.

She locked her gaze on his. “I understand perfectly. Do you understand you have to pretend to be honorable when you’re around my children?”

He straightened, blank surprise on his face.

“Can you keep your real character a secret?”

“What are you talking about?”

Lisa advanced on him. “Your tendency to lie your way out of trouble—”

Joe backed away, his hands up to ward her off.

“Your attempt to bribe me.” She stepped forward. “Your—”

He stepped back. “Now wait a minute—”

“I only hope you can fake it.”

He halted. “I don’t have to fake anything. If you had any doubts about my character, you wouldn’t have begged me for this contract.”

“If I had another choice,” she corrected, “I wouldn’t have agreed to help you out. I’m taking a chance on you.”

The calculation in Joe’s smile sent shivers of warning across her skin. He stepped toward her. “But I’m taking a chance on you, as well. I have to trust you to behave as though you love me.”

“You can trust me.”

“How do I know?”

“I can fake it.”

He smirked. “I’ve never had a wom—”

“Don’t even say it.”

“Maybe I ought to put you to the test.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “What test?”

“We’ll be performing in front of my mother, who can sniff out a fraud like a bloodhound.” He smiled. “Maybe we ought to rehearse.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re not exactly friends. My mother—everyone—will be able to tell if it’s our first kiss. We should practice, just until it feels natural.”

Lisa glared at him, disgusted with his tactics. Another manipulator, just like Brad. “I should’ve expected something like this from you.” She stalked to the door, followed by Joe’s laughter, soft, but edged with triumph. “Mail me the contract.”

“Coward,” he called across the room.

“With the advance money.” She slammed the door on his grin.

LISA TOOK HER CHECK to the principal’s office the next day as school let out, Joe’s advance having arrived by special courier. Laying down the money for Bobby’s program, without having to apply for any grants from the school district, didn’t offer her the satisfaction she had imagined.

Abby jumped into the car. Bobby had been invited to practice soccer at the house of one of his teammates. Tomorrow she’d tell him about his starting “a new adventure,” which was how she’d decided to view the program.

Lisa hated to cut into her special time alone with Abby doing a mundane chore, but she needed to stop at the grocery store on the way home. Time seemed to slip away from her these days, never leaving enough for all the things she had to do.

“Sally Turner’s having a birthday party, Mom, and she invited me! Everyone’s going. Can I go? Please.”

After an affectionate glance at Abby, Lisa checked the rearview mirror for oncoming cars then pulled into traffic. “When is it?”

“Her birthday is next week, but the party’s not till June eighth. It’s a Sunday. We have lots of time to shop.”

“What are you planning to get her?” She could stretch the budget to include a present, as long as Sally “The Girl Who Has Everything” Turner didn’t expect expensive name brands. “Why is her party so far in the future?”

“Everybody who’s invited decided to get new T-shirts with the band’s name on them. I can have one, too, can’t I? It shouldn’t cost too much.”

Lisa frowned. “What band?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you the best part!” Abby bounced on the seat in her excitement, a grin splitting her face. Lisa hadn’t seen her this happy or this animated since Brad left. Thank you, Sally.

“Sally’s parents are taking us to see Juniper Jones.”

“Wow.” Concert tickets for the Turners and a group of girls would cost a load of money. Lisa bit her lip, hoping Abby understood her own birthday celebration wouldn’t include anything nearly as expensive.

“So I can go?” Abby insisted.

“I suppose so.”

Juniper Jones was the name of an all-girl band, whose songs focused more on friendship and teen angst than drugs or sex. Abby had their two most recent CDs, and their poster decorated her wall. At least the Turners, whose lax parenting methods Lisa usually abhorred, had chosen music appropriate for eight-and nine-year-olds. She struggled over letting them take her daughter to the crowded concert. Surely they could be responsible for Abby for one evening.

“That’s really cool,” Lisa said. “I didn’t know Juniper Jones was playing in Kansas City this summer. I suppose we can find a band T-shirt somewhere.”

Maybe one of those Internet bargain sites would have a shirt available. Souvenirs at the concert were costly.

Abby hunched in her seat. “They’re not.”

Sure she’d lost track of the conversation, Lisa said, “I don’t understand.”

“We’re going to see the concert in St. Louis. We get to stay overnight at a hotel. With a pool.”

Fortunately for the other drivers on Wilson Avenue, the light ahead turned red. Lisa braked with extra care then stared at Abby. She wouldn’t even let parents she trusted take Abby across the state overnight, let alone the Turners. “And you’re just now mentioning this part.”

Abby nodded, not quite meeting her eyes.

“After you made sure I said you could go.” Lisa tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Abby. The answer’s no.”

“Mom!”

She raised an eyebrow at her daughter, a definite warning sign should Abby care to heed it.

Abby’s chin dropped onto her chest. “That’s so unfair.”

Lisa inhaled and glanced ahead. Still red, thank heavens. She didn’t think she could negotiate traffic and this conversation without killing someone. Preferably Sally Turner’s parents. What were they thinking? She shook out fingers gone numb from her hold on the steering wheel.

The light changed, and Lisa carefully advanced.

After three blocks, Abby burst. “Why can’t I go?”

Lisa let the silence hold until she parked at the curb in front of the store. “It’s too far. You can’t stay overnight in another city at your age without me.”

“Sally’s parents will be with us. And it’ll be summer, not a school night.”

Lisa held up her hand. “Don’t start. You knew what the answer would be before you asked, which is why you wanted me to say yes before you filled in all the details. I don’t appreciate being manipulated, young lady.”

“Sorry,” Abby muttered.

Lisa blew out a deep breath.

They got out of the car, although Lisa had never felt less like seeing food in her life. Abby got quieter as the hours progressed, and by bedtime, Lisa almost wished the girl would let loose her feelings the way Bobby did. Abby’s silent melancholy tore at her heart.

AT THE CONVENTION HALL the next week, Lisa glanced around at the hothouse exhibit of roses, orchids and gardenias and felt satisfied that her sugary confections complemented the beauty of the room. Moreover, her flowers offered a delight for the tongue as well as the eye. About fifty women in sequins and chiffon led their handsomely suited men through the partitioned-off areas. Muted conversations, briefly punctuated by outbursts of greetings, blended with the classical music in the background.

Lisa darted to the main dessert table to inspect the platters again, having checked on the four satellite stations she’d set around the room. She felt the eyes of the attendees drifting over her. Eager to make a good impression in hopes of future business, she smiled at everyone and said a few words, while trying to maintain a professional, I’m-just-the-invisible-help type presence.

“I need to set out more cookies,” Ginger said as she replaced a tray of mint crème candies. “Things are going really well.” She laid out more cocktail napkins and plates then whisked her tray to the next table.

As Lisa gathered up the dirty dishes and hurried toward the convention hall’s kitchen, the hairs on her neck prickled. She was here someplace, poor Mrs. Riley, hoping to meet Joe’s “almost fiancée.” Lisa swung through the metal kitchen doors, making sure they swished closed. Shame filled her as she imagined her upcoming performance, duping that fragile old woman into believing her son’s happiness was assured. Tricking Mrs. Riley in her last days would secure Lisa a long stay in purgatory.

She dumped the dishes on the stainless steel counter and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. The hall’s kitchen made her salivate with envy. Cool, smooth metal expanses of countertops, an industrial-size fridge, two freezers, three ovens…

Lisa reined in her yearning. She didn’t need this much equipment, not for her simple operation. The scope of the night’s party had been huge enough. Even with Ginger’s assistance, getting everything here and setting up had depleted her enthusiasm for catering large jobs. She should have hired more servers, but she simply couldn’t afford them. Ginger had offered her help for free, but Lisa insisted on paying her.

She couldn’t bring herself to take anything more from anyone. In addition to paying back loans from half the banks in town, she had to repay Joe Riley. With her affection.

The back of her right eyeball cramped.

Deceiving Mrs. Riley into thinking she loved Joe would take an acting job worthy of an Academy Award. No wonder she felt a migraine intensifying.

Ginger backed through the large swing doors into the kitchen, her arms laden with a tray of dirty dishes. She set it on the worktable and guzzled a drink from her water bottle. “Wow, they really love your stuff. I bet you get tons of catering calls after tonight.”

“I hope so,” Lisa said. “Don’t worry, though. If I do, I’ll hire some college kids to help out.”

“It’s kind of fun. Although it is harder than trying to make a baby, which is what I have to get home to do.” She referred to her fertility cycle, a timetable for conception she and her husband called the Baby Project.

Lisa glanced at her watch. “Oh, Ginger, go on ahead. Kyle should be home from his meeting by now.”

Ginger grimaced but removed her apron. “I hate to leave you with so many dishes. I have time to set out some more petit fours.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve been a huge help all night, and while you’re ovulating, no less.”

They laughed, and Lisa hugged her. “Now, go. Babies are way more important than those women getting more cake.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.”

“I don’t know about that, but I am the boss tonight.”

With a wave, Ginger headed out the back door.

Lisa loaded a tray with petit fours, amazed at how many she’d already served. By the look of the leftovers, the guests had bypassed most of the candies she’d slaved over, but had taken to the cookies and the petit fours, small bites of cake, which she’d iced and decorated with individual rosebuds. Decorating cookies required a lot more work, as well as the initial cutting out and baking, but maybe she ought to consider cookie bouquets for her slow periods. College parents at the Kansas City universities might go for small care packages, especially around the holidays or exam time.

“I thought I’d find you in here.”

Lisa dropped a petit four on another, smashing an iced flower. She ground her teeth then fixed a smile in place before facing Joe. Might as well start rehearsing now. She needed all the practice she could get pretending affection for someone putting her through such turmoil.

Of course he looked gorgeous, which should have helped the pretense but only made her more miserable. Why did he have to have the upper hand in everything? She felt as though she’d been working in a sweatshop all evening, while Joe looked sensational in a black suit, which made his black hair shine.

She bit back the temptation to tell him he looked handsome. Surely he heard that from women all the time, women who weren’t pretending, women whose opinions mattered. She clamped her lips together.

“Are you hiding from my mother?”

“Absolutely.”

His eyes widened, then he laughed. “For some reason, I thought you’d deny it.”

She lifted a brow at him. “Some people enjoy honesty, Mr. Riley. Keeping track of lies is too exhausting.”

His smile turned glacial. “Some people just can’t loosen up. Anal, I believe Freud called it. Or just self-righteous.”

Lisa flushed. When had she gotten to be such a sourpuss? Oh, yeah. Brad. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “About meeting my mom? You shouldn’t be. Mom’s a sweetie pie.”

She crossed her arms. “Then what was all that about our practicing kissing so she wouldn’t see through our act? A bloodhound, I think you called her.”

Joe grinned, showing his dimples. “I’m glad you reminded me. That’s still a great idea.”

“Forget it, buster.” Lisa fought a giggle and lost. “You’re looking for practice in all the wrong places.”

“Nerves are making you hysterical. Let’s go meet Mom and Dad and get this over with.”

Her feet stuck to the floor. “Mom and Dad?”

“Sure, didn’t I tell you? Mom’s president of the Garden Society. Next to the Rose Exhibit, this is her big event. Naturally Dad came to support her.”

“No,” she said, her voice squeezing out of her tight throat. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “You didn’t mention it.”

“Didn’t Mom contact you about catering tonight?”

She rubbed her throbbing temple. “I dealt with the event coordinator, Lainey Perkins. I didn’t know your mom was president.”

He frowned. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I guess not. I just got this sick feeling in my stomach when you told me.” She tried to laugh it off. “What difference could it possibly make?”

“Atta girl.” Joe put his hand on the small of her back. He imagined her slender body perfectly curled into his. Her shiny blond hair would tickle like corn silk against his cheek. He enjoyed the warmth beneath his hand. Her derriere curved out right below. He could slide his hand down and—

And Lisa would smash an entire tray of desserts in his face. Joe smiled as he led her across the room. He enjoyed the fire of her temper, the challenge in her blue eyes. She didn’t make it easy for him to “court” her, but he relished the chase. “There they are.”

Lisa stumbled. He felt her stiffen as they neared and draped his arm across her back.

He tried to see them as Lisa would, but to Joe, they were just Mom and Dad. Joe inspected his mother’s face for too much or too little color, but she appeared hale and hearty, despite the pressures of the evening. He let out a relieved breath. His dad beamed with pride, as if Mom had not only put this shindig together single-handedly but grown all the flowers, too. Joe felt that same satisfaction.

His mother watched their approach. He raised his voice to get his father’s attention. “Mom, Dad. This is Lisa Meyer. Lisa, these are my parents, Alice and Mike Riley.”

His dad encompassed her small hand with both of his. The warm, open smile on his face said better than his words how much he enjoyed meeting her. Lisa had helped make the party a success for his wife, and she was with Joe. That made her okay with his dad.

Joe glanced at his mom. She was sizing Lisa up, he noticed with fond amusement.

“So nice to meet you.” His mom held out her hand to Lisa. “I’ve heard nothing but praise around the tables this evening, both for the taste of the desserts and for your smooth expertise in serving.”

“Thank you.” Lisa swallowed visibly. “It’s nice of you to say so. I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen of the flower exhibit. You’ve presented the flowers in a thought-provoking manner.”

His mom’s eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”

Joe squeezed Lisa’s waist.

She cleared her throat. “There are various ways to group a presentation. For instance, you could have put all the roses together, bunched the orchids, like that, displaying the quality of each entry against its rivals. But then you would have had a rose corner, an orchid corner, and so on, and it would have been boring, like picking out plants in a nursery.”

Joe gawked at her. Boring? What was she doing? Why didn’t she just say thanks to his mother’s compliment, tell her how in love she was with him, and skedaddle back to the kitchen?

“I’ve seen it done totally by color, too.”

He fought the urge to elbow her, fearing his mother would notice. With dread, he waited to hear what she’d say next because, as far as he could tell, his mom had grouped the flowers by color.

“That approach results in chaos, of course,” Lisa said.

He groaned. Maybe she was showing her worst side, hoping his mother would talk Joe out of seeing her, declaring Lisa unfit. Or just insane.

“Chaos?” His mother’s chill tone brought autumn to the room. He glanced at the nearby plants, watching for them to wither.

Lisa nodded. “Absolutely. Orchids and roses fighting for space, mixing their perfumes until it smelled like a funeral parlor—”

He choked, barely hearing his mother’s gasp over the piano music in the background. His dad surveyed the nearby food tables, clearly not interested in flower arrangements and oblivious to the byplay.

“And obscuring their individual perfection. But—” Lisa’s voice rose with what Joe took for enthusiasm “—you’ve utilized the color scheme, while preserving the distinctiveness of each species. Tea roses and old-fashioneds complement each other, and separating them by shade only emphasizes their individual characters.”

Joe debated kicking her ankle. Had Lisa lost her mind? It hardly mattered that his mother was warming to her continued—and continued and continued—praise. He had to get her away. He observed her pinkened cheeks and bright eyes and finally noticed what had escaped him before.

Lisa wasn’t breathing.

She’d barely taken a breath since she started. In a minute he’d have to scoop her off the floor from a light-headed faint. He no longer wanted to kick her ankle, although he might have to pound her on the back to get her to inhale. The tightness in his chest eased. She was only nervous, not trying to sabotage his plan.

“Well,” he cut in, “we all agree with you, honey.” He saw her start of surprise, and—finally, thankfully—heard her gulp in air. “When Mom does something, she does it right.”

“That’s what I was trying to say,” Lisa said.

“I think I prefer her way of saying it,” his mother said. “Much more effusive.”

They all laughed.

“That’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss Lisa’s cheek.

She jumped back with wide eyes. His mother’s mouth pursed. Slowly her narrowed gaze moved to Joe, connecting with his and sending a message.

Joe read her doubt all too clearly.

Lisa put her hand on his chest and peeked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m just so jittery.” She glanced at his parents, focusing on his dad. “I babble when I’m nervous, as you now know. Catering this event is so important to my business. I get dizzy thinking of the potential jobs I could book from all these people.”

“Not to mention meeting us,” his dad said. His friendliness relieved the tension among their group.

Lisa giggled. “Well, I wasn’t going to mention that, but it is pretty scary, trying to win the parents’ approval at the same time as the rest of this.” She squinted toward Joe’s mother. “No wonder I have a migraine.”

“Oh, you poor dear.” His mother tapped his dad’s arm. “Go get my purse.”

She turned back to Lisa as he left. “I have something that works wonders. I don’t usually approve of taking medications, but look who I have to put up with.”

“Humph.” Joe acted offended, but he felt relieved. They’d discovered common ground, even if it was a headache. A woman approached his mom, who stepped away to listen to the lady’s deafening praise for the event.

Lisa pivoted toward him and whispered, “I should have taken you up on your offer.”

He frowned. His offer? “You already have my company’s catering job. I’m really impressed with your work here tonight.”

“No, your other offer.” She leaned closer. “The kiss.”

He blinked, then laughed as her color heightened. “It’s not too late.” He slid his arm down to her waist again and reeled her in flush against his body.

“Joe,” Lisa hissed with a look over her shoulder at his mom. “We can’t kiss here, in front of everybody.”

“Sure we can. What would be more convincing?”

She tried to wriggle free.

“Oooh, keep it up. I like it.”

She jabbed his ribs with her fist. He laughed and let her scoot back an inch.

“I have to go,” his mother said, eyeing them. “Duty calls. It was lovely meeting you.”

“And you,” Lisa returned faintly. As soon as his mother moved out of earshot, she groaned. “That was awful.”

He looked down at her in surprise. “I thought it went pretty well.” He laughed at her expression. “After you stopped talking, anyway.”