Authors: Dara Girard
“Great party,” Sara said her blue eyes filled with praise.
Brenna returned the smile. “Thank you. Have you made any connections yet?”
“Connections, yes. Whether they’ll be matches, we shall see.”
“As they say, ‘The night is young’.”
“Yes and...” She stopped and stared at something.
Brenna spun around and nearly dropped her glass.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hunter stood in the doorway looking very large, very dangerous and completely out of place. He wore black jeans, a maroon T-shirt and sneakers. He looked as though he hadn’t shaved in days. His sharp predatory eyes scanned the crowd, searching with the patience of an accomplished predator. Soon his eyes fell on her. Brenna swallowed as he made his way through the crush of people that seemed to part as he passed.
“Who is that?” Sara asked. With interest or horror, Brenna couldn’t tell.
“No one you need to be concerned with,” she said, trying to maintain an indifferent air. “Excuse me.” She walked up to him, hoping to stop him from causing anymore of a disturbance. Whispers circled around him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a low voice.
“I fixed it.”
She wanted to be furious with him, but he sounded so proud of himself, the emotion disappeared. “Fixed what?”
He stepped closer. Though he looked horrible, he smelled like cinnamon. “The cane.”
She finally noticed what he held in his hand. “And you—?”
A man with a presumptuous air cut in before she could reply. He looked at Hunter, stroking his red handlebar mustache. “One of the sinks in the men’s room needs fixing. You’d better look at it.”
Hunter’s dark eyes flashed with menace. “Certainly. I’ll use your head as a plunger.”
The man took a hasty step back.
Brenna spoke up. “He doesn’t work here. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Oh, I see.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve...uh..excuse me.” He walked away trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, but it flopped around his ankles.
Hunter watched him leave. Brenna grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway. She pointed to the cane. “Couldn’t this have waited?”
He ignored the question. “You’re going to like this.” He took her cane and handed her its replacement. “Look at it. Isn’t it great?”
The bolts were smaller and the color a lighter silver, the handle was now a deep burgundy and the flat bottom less conspicuous. He patiently awaited her reply, but she could sense the tension in him. “It’s beautiful.”
The tension eased. “What I did was—”
She put a hand over his mouth. “You don’t have to explain.” She removed her hand. “I can tell you worked hard.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Good. Now I’ll leave you to your party.”
She seized his arm before he turned. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“Slept?” He repeated the word as though it were foreign.
“Got in bed and closed your eyes.”
He paused then said, “About three days ago.”
“Three days!” She shrieked. A clerk sent her a look of censure. Heat flooded her face. She lowered her voice. “Wait here.”
Brenna went inside and made her apologies to a few guests, spoke with her event planner and hostess then went back into the hall. But Hunter was gone.
***
She found him in the lobby looking at the aquarium. It covered the length of the wall with fish the size of footballs and the color of rainbows.
She wagged a finger at him. “I told you to wait.”
He watched a fish swim behind a plant. “I am waiting.”
She knew it was useless to argue with his logic. “Come on.”
He followed her through the glass doors. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
He stopped, confused. “You don’t have to. I drove here.”
She looped her arm through his and pulled him along. “Something that I find highly disturbing.”
“I’m all right.”
She unlocked her door. “Drunks say the same thing, that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
He scowled. “I’m not drunk.”
“You haven’t slept in three days. I’m surprised your sentences are still coherent.” She tossed her cane in the back seat. He sat in the car; his knees hit the glove compartment.
He felt around the chair for the lever. “How do you adjust this seat?”
“It’s right at your side.”
“I can’t find it.”
She reached over him and pulled the tab sending them both flying backwards, she sprawled across his lap. She scrambled off of him. “Don’t say anything,” she warned buckling her seatbelt.
His lips twitched. “I wasn’t planning to.”
She started the ignition then pulled onto the main road.
Hunter asked, “Do you want directions to my apartment or are you going to guess?”
“I’m taking you to my place. I want to make sure you go to bed.”
“I could cross my heart.”
“I wouldn’t believe you.”
He frowned. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”
Brenna stopped at a traffic light and looked at him. “Your design is brilliant.”
To that he had nothing to say.
***
In her apartment, Brenna went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea hoping it would help him drift off to sleep. She returned to the living room to ask what type he liked and found Hunter laying on the couch with his shoes and socks off.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to sleep.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “Are you planning on giving me instructions? Might work just as well.”
“No need to be nasty. I have a bedroom.”
His eyes lit up.
“A
guest
bedroom.”
He sat up and grabbed his socks and shoes. “You shouldn’t raise a man’s hopes like that. The disappointment could be fatal.”
She turned off the kettle then led him into the guest bedroom. She instantly regretted it. The peach and pink decor had the sickening sweetness of an overstuffed cream puff. She hadn’t gotten around to redecorating it after experimenting with a look she’d seen in a magazine. Lacy pillows and a pink crocheted blanket choked the bed while peach carpeting flooded the room. She nudged his paralyzed form. “Don’t look so horrified,” she said. “You’re just going to sleep here.”
“If I can.” He took off his shirt and climbed into bed. One of the pink lacy pillows fell on his head. He tossed it on the ground where is squeaked. He looked at her amazed. “Your pillows squeak?”
“Just that one. I was trying for something different.”
He squeezed the other pillows. “Congratulations, you succeeded.”
His creamy brown shoulders looked oddly delectable in the garish bed. Like the chocolate cake inside a petit four. He finally drew up the covers and laid back.
She looked away embarrassed for staring. She’d seen men’s chest before lots of times. His shouldn’t have a devastating effect on her. Too bad it did. She would see the sleek muscles of his chest and shoulders in her dreams tonight, not that she would complain. “Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
She turned off the lights and began to close the door.
“Wait!” He leapt out of the bed and came up to her. “I forgot something.” He dug in his trouser pocket then slipped a ring on her finger. “Now we’re engaged.” It was an excellent imitation. The cubic zirconium looked like diamonds in the gold band. But she knew it wasn’t just a ring. It was a symbol of how deep into this deception they had gone. She stared at the ring so long that by the time she could think of a reply he was asleep.
***
Brenna didn’t fall sleep right away. She lay in bed listening for every movement that came from the next room. He didn’t snore and wasn’t an active sleeper so there wasn’t much to listen for, just the occasional shifting of sheets or a deep sigh. She liked to hear him sigh. He sounded like a child with a pleasant dream. She lifted her hand to stare at the ring. When he took it from her the show would end. Pauline was right, she didn’t want it to. She wondered if that was the true reason she had invited him home. Was it so she could have him close, create more memories with him before he was out of her life? She pounded her pillow then fell into it face first. No, the truth was much more debase. She wanted him. Pure and simple.
That wasn’t like her. What about compatibility? The meeting of the minds? Common interests? Yes, they were both committed to their careers, but that could be bad in a relationship. But she didn’t want a relationship. She wanted him in bed with her and available to parade in front of her family every once in awhile. Nothing more.
She glanced at her new cane resting against the wall near the door. He’d fixed it for her. Why? Because he felt sorry for her? Because he cared about her? Or just because? She finally fell asleep with no answers.
Brenna woke up early the next morning ready to prepare breakfast. As she put on her navy cotton robe, she heard the shower turn on. She went straight to the kitchen determined not to picture him naked. She failed.
She opened the cupboards and stared at their contents. She wasn’t going to do anything special and try to impress him. She intended to follow her regular routine of cereal and toast.
Nevertheless, she ended up making French toast and a fruit salad. She tried to convince herself that the breakfast was a treat for herself as much as for him, but didn’t succeed. The door bell rang as she set the table.
Dread crawled over her skin like a series of centipedes when she glanced at the clock. Only one person would come to visit this early on a weekend. She took a deep breath then opened the door with a plastic smile.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
Diane handed her a dish of casserole. “I had extra.”
“Thank you. It was so kind of you to drop this off.” She began to close the door, keeping her voice sweet so as not to appear rude. “I’ll talk to you later and—”
Hunter’s deep voice sliced through her words. “Something smells delicious,” he said, coming out of the bathroom, steam from the shower spilling into the hallway.
Brenna slowly turned and saw him pouring a glass of orange juice, a sea-green towel wrapped around his waist. His bare chest just as magnificent as the night before. She spun around and stared at her mother. “It’s not what you think.”
Diane schooled her features to mask any shock then began to smile. “You are an adult, Brenna.”
“Well, I wasn’t being ‘adult’ with him. We’re just dating this isn’t a serious relationship.” She furrowed her brows unsure how to interpret her mother’s odd expression. “We came home and went straight to bed.” She shook her head and waved her hands. “I mean to sleep in separate beds, in separate rooms.” She drew out her words so there was no confusion. “Nothing happened.”
Diane’s smile widened. “That’s okay, Brenna. I understand you wanted to keep it a secret.”
Brenna narrowed her eyes. “Keep what a secret?”
“Your engagement of course.” She hugged her and whispered, “Your ring is gorgeous.”
Brenna glanced down at her hand. Dread turned into panic. “No, wait it’s not—”
Diane stepped back ready to go. “I know I’ve spoiled your surprise, but don’t worry we can talk about it later.” She glanced at Hunter her eyes gleaming. “I can’t believe I get to have him as a son-in-law.” She blew her daughter a kiss then hurried down the stairs.
Brenna closed the door and rested her forehead against it. “I give her about an hour to keep it a secret.”
Hunter came up behind her. “Keep what a secret?”
“Our engagement.”
Hunter glanced at her hand then shrugged. “This is not a problem.”
She spun around, held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “You don’t consider this a problem? What do you consider a problem? A volcanic eruption? A nuclear blast?”
His voice remained calm as hers rose. “I’m just saying there’s a logical solution to this. Let her think we’re engaged then later tell her we had an argument and broke up.”
Brenna leaned her head back and shook her head defeated. “You want me to try to convince my mother that an argument stopped me from marrying a rich, eligible man?”
“You forgot handsome.”
“Oh shut up.”
He lifted the top of the casserole dish. “Hmm, looks good.”
She took the top from him and set it back. “She’ll never forgive me for losing you.”
“There’s another solution.”
Brenna straightened. “What?”
“You could marry me.”
Her mouth fell open.
“It’s a possibility.”
She gathered her thoughts. “Out of the question.” She pushed herself from the door and walked past him. “Don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”
He let the matter drop and followed her into the kitchen.
“I borrowed your razor. I don’t think you prefer beards.”
“You’re right,” she teased, putting the casserole away. “That’s why I leave it there for all my male guests.”
He paused; she winked. “Jealous?”
“No. I’m starving.”
Her eyes trailed the length of him. “I don’t feed half-naked men.”
He reached for his towel. “Should I take the towel off?”
“No.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean that?” He laughed. A few moments later she heard his bedroom door close.
***
“So what would a man have to do to convince you to marry him?” Hunter asked as he poured syrup over his stack of French toast. Brenna was pleased she’d made enough to satisfy his appetite although she’d have to buy a new loaf of bread.
“I’ve explained I don’t want to get married.” She sent him a warning glare. “However, if I did wish to marry, it wouldn’t be to a man who wants to use me to secure a promotion. We had a bargain. I’d be your fiancée for one night, nothing more.” She bit into a melon cube. “You’ll have to find a wife on your own.”
“Fine.” He cut his stack. “I could always use your services.”
“Love by Design is for serious singles.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’d double your fee.”
“I can afford it.” He rested his arms on the table his tone becoming flippant. “I can afford a lot of things.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Nice house, car, clothes.” His gaze fell to her face. “Trips to Paris for a shopping spree.”
Brenna studied a raspberry she’d speared with her fork. “If you’re trying to bore me to death, you’re succeeding.”