The Borrowed Boyfriend (4 page)

“Go on,” Kate urged. “What are you waiting for?”

Allison snatched up her cell and switched it on. Seconds later her face fell as she scanned through the messages. “Thirteen new alerts.”

“Could be your lucky day,” Kate ventured. She smiled at Allison encouragingly. “I mean, if you agree to take Grady along. I think it’s a great plan—just for the week.”

“Just for the week,” Allison echoed, her resolve crumbling. Though she didn’t like the idea of pretense, she hated the thought of another blind date disaster even more. One of these days she was going to stand up to her friends and show them what she was made of. That she was capable, strong and sure, and didn’t need a man to validate her. But
one of these days
wasn’t right now, Allison realized with a touch of shame. She was chicken, and—all right, she’d admit it—the slightest bit embarrassed that eight years had passed, and she’d not managed to produce a legitimate boyfriend for one short vacation. In part, that was due to bad luck. A few of those years, she’d actually
had
steadies, just not at the precise time of the annual beach trip. When she’d tried to explain that to the others, nobody had totally believed her.

Allison shut her eyes and imagined the perfect getaway. Lazy walks along the beach, glorious sunshine and absolutely no stress. If bringing Grady along as a faux beau could help her achieve that nirvana, then maybe the ruse would be worth it. So yeah, she’d be sort of deceiving her friends. But honestly, didn’t they deserve it? They were the ones who wouldn’t accept her without another couple-half.
 

If anyone was to blame for some potential dishonesty, it certainly wasn’t her—or Grady, who was curiously offering his assistance. She didn’t know why he was, other than the fact that he probably felt sorry for her. Which represented a whole other load of emotional baggage. Then again, Allison had no real relationship with Grady, so why should any emotions come into play at all?
 

Grady was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. Dreadful decisions that often meant the demise of smaller companies… Allison was starting to recall one of the very big things she disliked about him. But, really. Couldn’t she set that aside? For just seven days—and seven nights? It wasn’t like she was planning to marry the guy! Allison didn’t have to agree with Grady’s corporate values—or lack thereof. All she had to do was acknowledge how impressive he might look to other people. Other nosy, interfering, presumptuous people who thought they knew what was best for her. And
that
was being in love!

Allison’s phone buzzed again and her eyes popped open. She was down to two choices. She could either go to the beach with Grady, or take a chance on being saddled with another virtual stranger. At least, with Grady, Allison understood what she was getting into. Plus, they could work out the sleeping arrangements ahead of time.

“Okay, Grady,” she said, meeting his eyes. “You’re on.”

Kate couldn’t contain her excitement. “Really?” she asked with a happy squeak, but Grady didn’t utter a word. Instead, he was staring at her like…like Allison didn’t know what. Like he was genuinely pleased.

“We’ll have things to discuss.”

Grady’s mouth tipped up in a smile. “Naturally.”

“Ground rules to establish.”

“Of course.”

“And I’ll take the floor.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Allison couldn’t decide whether she wanted to thank—

or throttle—him. “You’re sure about this?”

“Extra sure.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s
hmm
supposed to mean?” Grady asked her.

“I guess that makes one of us.”

Chapter Four

The minute Allison buckled her seatbelt in Grady’s tiny sports car, she regretted her decision to let him drive. “Do we have to have the top down?” she asked loudly as wind whipped across her face, carrying long strands of blond hair with it.

Grady smiled at her congenially and shouted back, “What’s wrong? It’s a beautiful day!”

Allison glanced up at the clear blue sky and the smattering of clouds offsetting the brilliant sun. The morning was certainly gorgeous, but it was still windy—and cold, as far as Allison was concerned. She zipped up her jacket with a grumble, then fished in her purse for a hair tie.

“What are you doing?” Grady queried before cranking the ignition. He wore slim sunglasses and a brown leather jacket. If Allison didn’t know better, she’d swear he was an Italian film star. But Grady’s heritage was Irish, according to what Kate had told her.

“Fixing my hair.” Allison pulled a coated rubber band from her pocketbook and fashioned a makeshift ponytail, combing through her wildly flying tresses with her fingers until she secured them in place.

“Your hair looks great.” He gave her a cockeyed grin and Allison brought her hand to her head, realizing she’d missed several long strands on her left side.

“Right,” she said, flipping down the passenger-side mirror and making the needed adjustments. The wind kicked up again and a stone-cold sensation settled in the pit of Allison’s stomach. She was having serious second thoughts about this whole
meet Grady, my boyfriend
thing. Allison stared at her reflection in the tiny mirror, spying terror in her own eyes. “Grady,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea. Maybe we should—”

“It’s going to be all right.” Grady laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s only for a week and we’ve rehearsed what we’re going to say.”

Allison turned to him in a panic. “About the sleeping arrangements—”

“The bedroll’s in the trunk, along with a sleeping bag.”

“And how are we going to explain that?”

“I’ve got a bad back,” Grady replied easily. “Sometimes, during the night, I need to sleep on a hard surface.”

“Like they’re going to believe that.”

“It probably won’t even come up. You can squeal and catch up with your friends while I unload the car. Nobody will see what I carry in. And if too many folks are hanging around the driveway when we arrive, I’ll just sneak out to the car and grab those things later.”

Allison started to feel better until her mind focused on the
squeal
part. “What do you mean, ‘squeal’ with my friends?”

Grady shrugged. “You know how women do.” He affected a high falsetto. “'Eeeeek! I’m so happy to see you!’ Kiss-kiss, hug-hug and then more shrieking.”

“That’s not fair. Men shriek too.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Some do.”

“Not any that I know.”

“Fine.” Allison testily tugged on her oversize sunglasses and sat back against the seat, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Ready to hit the road?” Grady asked from beside her.
 

This was it: Allison’s final chance to turn and walk away. More like, leap from the car and race back up the stairs and into her apartment. But it was too late. She’d already told her friends she was coming and bringing her new boyfriend. Allison hadn’t had the nerve to do this over the phone, so she’d sent a group text.

Grady O’Brien wasn’t Allison’s first choice for a substitute boyfriend. He probably wasn’t even her second or third. He might be good looking and successful. But much of his success came out of causing other people misery. Allison wondered if Grady even
knew
how many businesses he’d closed down, or how many people he’d put out of work. They were probably just numbers to him. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered.

“Mind if I turn on some music?”

“It’s your car.” Allison said, still miffed by his earlier comment about women squealing. Even if what Grady had said was true, she hadn’t particularly cared for it. Allison was starting to put her finger on another thing she disliked about Grady. He was a self-assured know-it-all.

Grady reached toward the dashboard and punched in a button. To Allison’s surprise, loud opera music poured from the speakers of the car’s surround-sound system.

“Now,
that’s
shrieking,” she said, covering her ears.

“That’s not shrieking, that’s Puccini’s
La Bohème
.”

“Ah, thanks for clarifying the difference.”

“You don’t like opera?”

“It gives me a headache.”

Grady studied her with amusement. “I’ll bet you’ve never even been to one.”

She stared at him agape. “Whether I have—or haven’t—is totally beside the point.”

He gazed thoughtfully in the distance. “Hmm. Bella Fortuna Wine Designs. Say, isn’t that Italian?”

“So?”

“So’s this opera,” he said with a smirk.

Allison ignored the comment, refusing to take any more of his bait. She’d given her company an Italian name because Italy was where she first fell in love with the wine process, and beautiful packaging. She’d studied in scenic Cortona and had taken day trips to places like Florence, Siena and Montepulciano. In between studies and sightseeing, she and her college friends had toured many wineries. One of those friends, Carla, was meeting her at the beach today.
 

“So, what kind of music
do
you like?” Grady pressed after a pause.

The aria came to a frenzied crescendo and Allison cringed, the pain at her temples spiking. She wrinkled her forehead and sent him a petitioning look. “Silence?”

Grady looked at her in surprise.

“I’m sorry, but I actually am getting a headache.” That was understating things. Allison was bound to have a raging migraine by the time this day was through. Could she and Grady really get away with this in front of Allison’s closest friends?

Grady viewed her sympathetically, then punched off the music. “Silence it is. And hey, I’m sorry about the headache. I can put the roof up. It’s no big—”

“That’s all right, really.”

“Do you need me to stop by a drugstore?”

“I keep some ibuprofen in my purse.” She popped it open and tugged a bottle out of its brand new packaging before slipping two tablets in her mouth. She downed them quickly with a swig from her water bottle.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked with concern. “It’s not too late to—”

“I couldn’t do that to my friends. They’re expecting us.”

Grady put his car in gear. “Then let’s not let them down.”

Allison and Grady drove a full three hours with neither one speaking. They headed north toward Washington, DC, and picked up Interstate 95, which would take them all the way to Portland. Allison’s friends had rented a bungalow on a small private beach about twenty miles north of there. Way back in college, when all the other kids were headed south to sunny Florida or the islands, Allison and her friends decided to be different. None of them had been to New England and they’d heard the Maine coast was incredible. Plus, they’d found a really cheap rental at that time of year. They’d had so much fun that first spring that, afterward, a Maine vacation had become an annual group tradition. She and her friends took turns picking out a place each year, always in a new section of the coast they’d not yet explored.

She glanced over at Grady, fearing she’d been rude in criticizing his kind of music. Allison might have guessed he listened to jazz or rock. Maybe even soul. Never, in a million years, Puccini. She’d have to think up a way to apologize later. Perhaps she could explain it by saying her headache had made her cranky.

Grady motioned to a road sign ahead that indicated a coffee shop and a gas station were at the next exit. “Feel like coffee? We can grab some and I can top off the tank while we’re there.”

“Coffee sounds great!” Allison called above the wind. To her relief, her headache had abated. In fact, she barely felt it at all. Though she’d protested riding with the top down initially, the day had warmed up considerably and the fresh air actually seemed to have done her good. It really was a gorgeous springtime day. It would be even nicer at the ocean. It was a shame that it would already be dark by the time they reached their destination.

Grady exited the highway and pulled into a service plaza. “Why don’t we gas up first? Then we can get our coffee at the drive-through,” he said, motioning to the coffee shop across the way. “That is, unless you’d like to step inside there?”

“That’s fine,” Allison answered. “I’ll just dash into the restroom here, and…powder my nose!” She wasn’t sure how soon they’d be stopping again, and Allison wanted a chance to check her appearance in a proper mirror. She probably looked a wreck after riding in the wind, and the last thing Allison wanted to do was appear unpolished during this trip. Her girlfriends were all accomplished professionals, engaged in fulfilling romantic relationships. Allison, by contrast, had work worries and couldn’t even get a man. By the way he was looking at her, Grady was probably thinking the same thing. That she was an utter disaster.
 

He lowered his sunglasses to study her. “If you’re worried about your hair again, it looks terrific. In fact, all of you looks terrific.”

Allison’s cheeks warmed. “Thanks, Grady, but you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” he cut in. “But there’s nothing wrong with me telling the truth.”
 

“Are you this slick in business?” she queried.