Authors: Dara Girard
“I’ll pick you up in my Porsche.”
“I don’t care what car you drive.”
His expression turned serious. “A Porsche isn’t a car. It’s a driving experience.”
She bit her lip. “I beg your pardon.”
“Her name is Rhonda Goodnight.”
“That sounds like a porn star.” She shook her head before he could reply. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’s an interesting story.”
“I don’t care.”
He shrugged. “There will be a champagne waterfall, a spiraling staircase—”
Brenna clicked her tongue in pity. “And you standing there all alone.”
“I’ll buy your dress.”
She set her utensils down, feeling herself weaken. “Why me?”
“You fit my qualifications.”
She picked up her fork as her thoughts of romance disintegrated.
“Besides they’ll be expecting you.”
“They’ll be
expecting
me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I already described you and gave them your name.”
“That was presumptuous.”
“I was being optimistic.”
Brenna nodded. “Well, since it will be a night of lies you can find someone to pretend to be me.”
Hunter stared at her in consideration. “Why won’t you come?”
“Because the idea is ludicrous and second I’m not sure I like you.”
“Of course you do. You’re here.”
“I stayed for the food not the company.”
He glanced down at his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Since you’ve just stabbed me through the heart, I thought there might be blood.”
Brenna reached out and patted his hand. “You’re made of stronger stuff.”
“I’m not so sure. So why aren’t you married?”
“Usual reasons.”
“It seems odd that a matchmaker isn’t matched herself.”
“You’re in medical supplies. Do you use bedpans or walking frames?”
Hunter fell back, covering his heart. “Withdraw your sword madam.”
Brenna laughed then bit her lip as her idea grew stronger in her mind. He would be perfect. Absolutely perfect. He could easily fool her mother. Stephen was right. She couldn’t tell him to take risks if she didn’t take any of her own. She decided to ignore caution and said, “If you do me a favor, I’ll go to the banquet with you.”
Hunter rubbed his hands together prepared for the task. “Yes. What is it?”
“I want you to meet my mother.”
His enthusiasm crumbled. “The one that drives men insane?” He lifted a brow. “You really don’t like me very much.”
“You’ll be able to handle her. I just need a man to take to dinner so she’ll see that I have a social life.”
“But you don’t.”
“And you don’t have a fiancée, but you’re willing to produce one.” Brenna waited, hoping she hadn’t asked too much. He had every right to say no.
He poured more lemonade into his glass and took a long swallow. He looked at her pensive. “Dinner with your mother.”
“That’s it. One night.”
Brenna could almost see his mind weighing the pros and cons. “Is she a good cook?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
She was so happy she leaped out of her seat. She quickly recovered herself and sat back down. “Great.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Were you going to give me a hug?”
“No.”
Hunter held out his arms. “I don’t mind.”
She ignored him. “You’ll need a crash course.”
“In what?”
“How to survive a night with my mother.”
He stood. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“You need to be prepared,” she insisted, hoping to convince him to stay a while longer. She liked having him there.
“Fine. We can discuss it another time. Here’s my card.” He reached down and then realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He looked at her then reached over, opened the jacket covering her shoulders, and retrieved a card. His hands brushed her side. “Here.”
Brenna took the card and slipped out of the jacket as though it were crawling with spiders. It suddenly felt far too intimate. “I’ll call you.”
He stood and opened the door. “I’ll have people come by early tomorrow and clear the table,” he said then left.
She blew out the candles, the sunlight casting strips of light across the floor.
Hunter suddenly reentered the room. “I forgot something.”
“What?”
Without warning, he brushed his lips against hers. “There. Now our bargain is sealed,” he whispered then as quickly as he’d arrived he disappeared.
Brenna sat behind her desk trying to dismiss the kiss even as it lingered on her lips. It was no big deal, she assured herself. She sat staring at the phone. She finally picked it up and dialed. When her mother answered she said, “I have someone I want you to meet.”
***
“It’s a terrible idea,” Pauline said once Brenna told her.
“What’s a terrible idea?” Tima asked entering the office.
Brenna stared. “What are you doing here?”
“I called her for backup once The Hurricane entered your office,” Pauline said.
“I’m able to handle him on my own.”
“That’s why you’re agreeing to this ridiculous idea?”
“What idea?” Tima asked. Brenna told her and Tima grinned. “I think it will be fun.”
Pauline scowled, raising her forefinger in the air. “This one act is sending feminism back generations.”
“I’m not doing this for feminism,” Brenna said. “I’m doing it to get my mother out of my life. At least temporarily.”
“There are other ways to do that,” Pauline said.
Brenna rested her elbows on the table intrigued. “How?”
“Just tell her truthfully to leave you alone.” The two women stared at Pauline amazed. She blushed. “Okay, I know that isn’t completely realistic but it’s better than being deceitful.”
“Be deceitful,” Tima said. “It might be fun.”
Pauline shook her head. “You haven’t met this guy. He’s egotistical, demanding, annoying—”
Tima shrugged. “This is a ploy not a proposal.”
Brenna nodded. “Exactly. Now if I could only get my brother to take a risk.”
“Get a fake date?”
“No, try something unlike him.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s seeing his wife,” Brenna said annoyed.
“Home wrecker,” Pauline teased.
“They’re supposed to be getting a divorce.”
Tima shrugged. “They’re trying to make the marriage work.”
“They’re trying to save a sinking ship.”
Pauline nodded. “Brenna’s right. I’ve met Fiona and her brother could do better.”
Brenna flashed Tima a sly grin. “Actually, I’d love to pair you two.”
Tima shook her head. “No way. I like my men fully grown.”
“He’s twenty-five.”
“So? Men mature slowly. They don’t even start ripening until they reach their mid-thirties.”
“But you can teach younger men things,” Pauline said.
“Things they’ll turn around and use on younger women. Forget it.”
Brenna looked pensive. “If he were older would you be interested?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re my friend, so I’m not going to tell you.”
“Fair enough.” Brenna sighed defeated. Stephen wasn’t interested in Tima or she in him. Perhaps her instincts were wrong.
***
Stephen smiled to himself thinking of his mother’s phone call as he drove home. He wasn’t sure what Brenna was up to, but it seemed she’d managed to snag a man. Good for her. He wiped his brow, suddenly feeling the weight of his exhaustion. His last job had finished early and he’d helped a colleague move a large poster bedroom set up two flights of stairs. All he wanted to do was go home and shower. Then he’d go visit the Alandale Theater and see how the production was coming. He parked his truck and jumped out then caught a glimpse of the local stray—a gray and brown cat. He opened his lunch bag and tossed it some leftover chicken. The cat snatched it and ran off.
“Hey sexy,” a female voice said.
He spun around and smiled at Fiona. “Hey babe. Stay away I’m all sweaty. Let me change my shirt.” He turned and grabbed an extra one he had in his truck then pulled it on.
“I came to have a little snack with you. I packed some food.” Fiona lifted a bag.
“Good. Why don’t we eat it here? It’s a nice day.”
She wrinkled her nose. “In the truck?”
“It’s clean. Come on.” He grinned. “We’ve done a lot more than eat back here.”
“All right.”
Stephen lifted Fiona onto the flatbed then climbed in behind her. He watched her spread out the food, her long hair falling around her slender shoulders that always seemed to cower from the weight of the world. He felt fiercely protective of her, determined she would always feel safe with him. He grabbed a sandwich. “What is this?”
“Turkey.”
He looked at the other sandwich. “What’s that?”
“Turkey.”
He didn’t like turkey; she always forgot that. He took a bite anyway, appreciating the effort. “Hmm, delicious.”
She smiled.
Her smile erased the bland, rubbery taste of turkey in his mouth. Stephen leaned back against the cab feeling good. Fiona was like his truck—comfortable and reliable. She didn’t want anything more from him. He knew that in a few months he’d probably ask her to move back in with him. Getting a divorce would be a mistake. He couldn’t do better than Fiona. Her deep brown eyes and calm presence were nice to come home to. She was content with her life and her job as a clerk at The Bath Shop. It was his fault the marriage had hit rough spots. He hadn’t given it enough time. He hadn’t been there as a husband. He’d grown restless, but he wouldn’t this time.
They ate in silence. Neither of them were great conversationalists. This trait had drawn them together as high school seniors. He remembered asking her out after months of practice and staring at her across the aisle in Chemistry class. She said yes, to his surprise and relief, and things progressed from there. At times he wished they had more to say to each other, but he didn’t want to bother her and it wasn’t really that important. Fiona was definitely someone he could see himself growing old with.
He put his arm around her waist. “What are you doing after this?”
“Visiting my mother. You?”
“Nothing much.” It wasn’t true, but he hadn’t told her about the theater. Stephen didn’t want to let her know that for two seasons he had been sneaking back stage to watch the set being built and the lighting production. But perhaps keeping it a secret was keeping a part of him from her. If he wanted their relationship to be different he’d need to be different. This was something they could talk about. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was thinking of going by the Alandale Theater. They’re going to start production on a new play.”
Fiona reached for a pear. “So?”
“So, they may need some help with the set design. I could perhaps help with the lighting.”
She took a bite then held the pear out to him. He shook his head. “That theater has been having performances for over twenty years. I’m sure their lighting director knows what he’s doing. You wouldn’t want to upset him by telling him what you think he’s doing wrong.” Fiona took another bite, quickly wiping some pear juice flowing down her chin before it stained her blouse.
Stephen felt his enthusiasm falter. “Yes, well I thought if I could help... Give them some new ideas.”
“The director might hate them.” She set the pear aside. “You know how those artistic guys are. They like to run the show. Just stick to what you know.” She cupped his chin when she saw his face fall. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to discourage you. You have such a kind heart. I know you want to help, but think of something else. Something you’re good at.”
“I’m good at lighting.”
Her hand slid slowly up his thigh and her voice turned seductive. “I wasn’t thinking about that.” She began kissing him and pushed all thoughts of the theater away.
***
“Let me understand this,” Miles said as he and Hunter sat at their desks. “You’re going to meet her mother?”
Hunter tapped his chin. “It does sound a little absurd.”
“Sounds brave.”
“It’s my part of the bargain. I meet her mother and she meets—”
“The entire Randolph company and their family and friends.”
“It’s not that bad.”
Miles leaned forward. “And your grandfather.”
“I’ll handle him.”
“Does she know how big this event is?”
“Won’t matter.” Hunter clasped his hands behind his head. “I’m thinking of seducing her.”
“Can she be seduced?”
“Any woman can be seduced.”
“You’ll get in trouble with an attitude like that.”
Hunter lifted a brow. “That’s good. I can handle trouble.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Two days later, Brenna and Hunter chose Whalton Park for their crash course lunch meeting. Brenna sat on a bench and stared at her list, too absorbed to hear the squeal of children at the playground or the zip of bicyclists passing by. Everything had to work out or the whole plan would fail.
“I see you brought your cane,” Hunter said, glancing at the object that took up most of the bench. “Do you usually allow it to have its own seat?”
“It keeps me from getting hit on.”
“Do you whack potential suitors with it?”
Brenna glanced up then frowned at the picnic basket in his hand. “We’re here to work.”
“Yes, I realize that. Come on. I know a spot that will suit us.”
“Where?”
He pointed. “Over that hill.”
She sighed. “Great. Go ahead and I’ll follow you.”
He glanced at her cane. “You can’t make it?”
“I can if you promise not to watch me.”
He squatted in front of her. “Get on my back then.”
Brenna stared at him. “What?”
Hunter glanced at her over his shoulder. “You heard me.”
She looked around. “You can’t do this.”
“You don’t know unless you try.”
Her curiosity overrode any doubts. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He easily rose to his feet and began to walk.
“You’ve never done piggyback before,” he said after a few steps.
“No. Why?”
“You usually don’t try to strangle your carrier.”
Brenna loosened her grip. “Oh, sorry.”
“Thank you. Now I can breathe.”
She rested her chin on his shoulder. It was dangerous being this close to him. Close to his scent, his warmth, his vitality. She could feel the inherent strength of his back muscles. He was so strong, yet he didn’t use it as a method of intimidation. She felt safe with him.