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“So maybe the hot air balloon idea is a good one.”
“It’s not me.”
“We’ll try not to tell it too often. We’ll use the ‘this is Julia and Alonzo’s celebration’ excuse.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
He focused his attention on the sheet of facts Riccardo had written up, but stopped reading out loud. Her gaze swept the five o’clock shadow growing on his chin and cheeks, then rose to his nearly black eyes and up to his shiny black hair. Her fingers itched to run through the thick locks, and it suddenly struck her that maybe sometime in the next two weeks she could.
Just as her heart stumbled in her chest, his gaze rose and he smiled at her. “Riccardo also says this flight would be a good time for us to exchange stories.”
“Exchange stories?”
“He thinks I should tell you about things like the time I jumped off the roof of one of the winery’s outbuildings, thinking I could fly.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or gape at him. “Why would you think you could fly?”
“I was eight and I had a cape.”
A laugh burst from her. “That’s hysterical.”
“Didn’t you ever do anything stupid?”
Her earliest memories were of her mom sleeping on the couch. She’d sit on the floor in front of the sofa and watch her mother’s chest rise and fall, being scared silly because technically she was alone. Four years old and all alone. She was six or seven before she realized her mom kept sleeping because she drank too much alcohol. And it wasn’t until she was ten that she understood what a hangover was.
The only stupid thing she’d done was mention that to a social worker.
CHAPTER THREE (#u5b3203b3-176f-5884-bbf8-47c23c903e46)
“I LED A very quiet life.”
Even as that statement came out of Lila’s mouth, Mitch remembered her answer when he’d asked if she’d maxed out the company credit cards Riccardo had given her. “Weren’t you a foster child?”
She brushed at her dress, as if trying to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean my life was exciting.”
He knew little about the American foster care system, but he did understand the basics. A child was taken in by a family who was paid by the state to care for him or her. He supposed that left little room for being silly or stupid or even experimental, if you wanted to keep your home. Because if you didn’t keep your home—
The picture that brought to mind tightened his chest. Not wanting to think of Lila as a child on the street, alone and scared, and not wanting to examine his motives for the emptiness that invaded his soul just considering that she might have been alone or scared, he changed the subject.
“How were your grades?”
She grinned. “I was a star.”
He knew that, of course. They’d checked into her when they’d hired her. She’d been top of her class everywhere from elementary school to university.
“Anything I should know about your love life?”
She glanced across the aisle at him, caught his gaze. “No.”
“At least tell me the story of your first date.”
She smoothed her hair off her forehead. “Oh. Well, I guess that depends on what you consider a date. I had a huge crush on my next-door neighbor when I was five.”
He laughed. “Not that far back.”
“Okay. I went to the prom in high school.”
“Seriously? That was your first date?”
She shrugged. “I was busy getting those good grades, remember?”
He sighed. “All right. If we really were engaged, I probably wouldn’t know every corner of your love life. But give me something I can take to Nanna that will convince her we’re...” He paused, grappling for words, because now that he was getting to know her everything felt funny. He’d already pictured himself ravaging her. Her fault. She’d brought it up. But, because he’d already seen it in his head, he couldn’t quite say lovers out loud.
Finally he just sucked it up and said, “To help her believe we’re intimate.”
“Oh, my gosh. Seriously? Did you just say that? You couldn’t say lovers...or that we’re having sex or even knocking boots?” She laughed heartily. “Mitch, you have got to lighten up. You’ll do more to convince your grandmother we’re engaged with your actions than you will remembering a bunch of useless information about my life.”
Irritated with himself for all these weird reactions, he said, “Yeah, I guess.”
She caught his gaze again. But this time the light of humor brightened her pretty eyes. “I know.”
The awkwardness of being so informal with her pressed in on him again, and he had to get rid of it. Since she seemed to like humor so much, he went in that direction and said, “I suppose this means you’re not going to tell me the story of how you lost your virginity.”
She laughed. “No. And I don’t want to hear about yours.”
“Mine’s a great story,” he teased, so relieved that the tension had been broken that he decided to keep her laughing.
“I’ll bet.”
“I was about fifteen. A middle-aged woman came to the winery for a tour—”
“Oh, my God!” She put her hands over her ears. “Stop.”
“All right. I suppose that one isn’t exactly G-rated. Want to hear about Riccardo’s?”
Her eyes widened comically.
But he realized something important. “If we really were engaged, you might not know about our sex lives, but you would know about Riccardo’s and my antics as kids. So what do you say I tell you some of those stories?”
She slowly pulled her hands away from her ears. “Okay. If I were your fiancée for real, I would know those.”
“Exactly.”
He told her about skipping school, climbing trees, swimming in the lake behind his family’s property before the family put in the in-ground pool. He told her about Nanna covering for him and Riccardo a time or two, then using her knowledge for blackmail.
“Your nanna’s a pistol.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Thus the reason for the fake fiancée.”
“Sí.” He paused a second, then said, “So what about you?”
She smiled at him from across the aisle. “What about me?”
“What do I need to know about you to fool my grandmother?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on, I have to tell her something.”
“Nope. I’m a nonentity in this charade. I don’t matter. Just as Riccardo made up stories about our getting together and your proposal, I can be anything you need me to be because two weeks from now I’m out of the picture.”
“But doesn’t it make more sense to use your real life?” He peeked at her. “You know...for authenticity.”
“Then we’d trip over into too many details that wouldn’t fit. Since we didn’t actually start dating.” Her eyes met his. “We never even became friends. It’s easier for us to make up a background that’s more suited to a woman you’d date.”
Though what she’d said made sense, irritation slid through him. Why was she arguing? Evading him?
“That’s just the point. For better or worse you are the woman I chose. So I think it would make more sense if we figured out why I chose you—sticking with the truth—rather than to make up a story that we’d have to remember. Riccardo’s story is that we started talking and became friends.” He smiled his most charming smile. “So let’s become friends.”
She just looked at him. Her pretty gray eyes softened with a sort of sadness. He expected her to argue again, but she said, “I live in a walk-up in Brooklyn. I put myself through university as a barista in a coffee place. I sort of live to work.” She opened her hands. “Honestly, no hobbies. Nothing really interesting about me.”
“You have to have more to your life than that.”
She shook her head. “Unless you want to dip into the foster child stuff—which I don’t—I am as dull as watching paint dry.”
He would have accepted that, except she avoided his eyes and looked away quickly, the way a person does when they are lying or hiding something.
She did live in a walk-up in Brooklyn.
She had put herself through university as a barista.
She’d told him both of those in her employment interview. So if she wasn’t lying she was hiding something.
He knew it for certain when she firmly said, “Okay. Once we get over the initial introductions, I’ll just keep deflecting questions by reminding everybody this is Alonzo and Julia’s weekend. There’s no reason to get fancy about this.”
He nodded, but his gut knotted. Why would she want to keep something from him? What would she want to keep from him? It couldn’t be a criminal record—her record had been clean when he hired her. Which meant she didn’t sell drugs. Or rob banks. Or even have a permit to carry a gun. But maybe she dated losers? Or collected spiders? Or was one of those people who dressed up like a zombie and went to those weird parties—
Maybe he didn’t want to know?
After all, as she’d said, this charade would be over in two weeks. And if he forced the issue, he’d know an ugly detail of her life that he probably shouldn’t know.
When five minutes went by with neither of them saying anything, she pulled out her e-reader.
Trepidation filled him again. She was about to walk into the heart of his family. They would ask her a million questions. Yes, he understood that she could make up answers about their dating and her life, since this whole deal was fake, but—
No buts. She was right. They’d spent a year working together, not getting to know each other. If she had a private life she wanted to keep private, he should just accept that and trust that she could handle this ruse.
He relaxed a bit, settled back in his seat, used the remote to activate the television and nodded off thinking that his assistant had handled every job he’d ever given her. He should trust that whatever she wasn’t telling him it wasn’t relevant to her job—
Except she wanted to leave his employ and she’d never fully explained why.
Damn it! What the hell was up with her?
* * *
The jet landed in Spain a little after one o’clock in the morning, Spain time. The pilot’s announcement woke Lila and she yawned and stretched.
“So much for meeting your family tonight.”
Mitch blew his breath out on a groan that spoke of someone desperately wanting to continue sleeping. “I don’t know how I got so scattered that I forgot about the time difference, but we’ll get to the winery by two. I can show you to your room and you can either go back to sleep or take a shower or something to wake yourself up enough you can adjust to the new time zone.”
She waved her e-reader at him. “Don’t worry about me. I can always entertain myself.”
He smiled tiredly. “Great.”
His unenthusiastic tone sent a little jangle skipping along Lila’s nerve endings. Now that they were on the ground in Spain, near his family, he didn’t seem as convinced about this plan as he had in New York City. And part of that might be her fault. He hadn’t been pleased that she refused to talk about her past. But, really, they’d spent a year together and he’d never once asked her what she’d done over the weekend, let alone chitchatted about her past. So maybe a little part of her had decided to hold back. But she was still right about the ruse. It would be too difficult to explain how a high-powered executive, a charmer with a killer smile and tons of money, would want her. He hadn’t wanted her in a whole year. They were better off to make up an interesting past for her that turned her into a woman who would attract him and keep his interest enough that he’d want to marry her.
They exited the plane and Lila stood by Mitch as they waited for the copilot and limo driver to unload their luggage and pile it into the trunk of a big black car.
Finally finished, the driver opened the back door of the vehicle and greeted Mitch. “Buenas noches.”
Mitch laughed. “Shouldn’t that be buenos días?”
The driver chuckled. “Sí.”
Good day rather than good night.
Lila had to agree with that because it was after midnight, already an hour into the new day, except her body was on New York time. Though she’d had a nap on the plane, a few hours from now when his family was waking, she’d want to go to sleep for real.
Once they were settled on the long, comfortable back seat, Mitch said, “Don’t worry. My family and the entire staff speak English.”
She shrugged. “I toyed around with being a social worker, so I took enough Spanish in college that I’m fluent.”
He frowned. “You thought about being a social worker?”
“Everybody does.” She met his gaze, throwing him a bone with a little personal information since she’d clearly insulted him before when she wouldn’t tell him anything beyond the basics. “Everybody wants to save the world.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Not my family.” He motioned toward the window even though she could see nothing in the dead of night through the darkened glass. “We have a legacy to protect.”
“I think that’s kinda nice. You know—” She lifted one shoulder slightly, trying to be nonchalant, even though she envied him and his casual acceptance of not just having a mom and dad, a brother, a nanna, an aunt and uncle and a cousin, but also a legacy. “A place to belong.”
“Oh, we belong all right. Sometimes I feel like an indentured servant.”
She studied him, confused that he couldn’t see how lucky he was. “Is that why you came to New York?”
“My father released me to more or less follow my dream of setting up a website to sell Ochoa wines online after I caught Alonzo and Julia together. There was no way Dad could have picked sides. Picked one son over the other. Especially since what I’d walked in on was basically Alonzo and Julia’s first kiss. I’d more or less been ignoring her, traveling around Europe, trying to sell wine. So I didn’t have to do a lot of soul-searching to realize I didn’t really love her, and from the way Alonzo protected Julia the next few days, it was clear he did. Allowing me to create and head up Ochoa Online and move it anywhere I wanted, my dad put a positive spin on what could have potentially caused a huge rift in our family.”
