Her Faux Fiancé (16 page)

The muffled noise of a radio talk show in the other room gave her some hope at least that his mother and grandmother in the next room couldn’t overhear their conversation.

“Erik, there’s no need for you to come with me today. I’m only going to pick up the dress and run a few errands. You’re going to have to let me out of your sight sometime, you know.” Analise put her hands on her hips.

“But it’s a long drive to the city, and you’re tired.” He caressed her cheek.

She dug her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from melting into him.
A spine would come in handy about now.
“I’m fine. Listen, I need a little time alone. I’ve been surrounded by your family since this whole wedding fiasco erupted—” She saw him wince at the word “fiasco” and softened her tone. He was trying to keep everyone happy. He must’ve been emotionally exhausted himself. She put a hand on his cheek and feathered a touch over his lips with her thumb. “I’ll be fine driving in and out on my own. Besides, I do have a little personal shopping to do. It’s my wedding day; I should get a few things for myself. Maybe even a surprise gift for you.”

Erik shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously trying to decide whether she was going to try to make a run for it or if she genuinely had some personal matters to attend to. Finally, he relented.

“All right, but for my peace of mind, will you call me when you get to the wedding shop and then when you’re on your way home? I worry about you and the baby.”

She’d gone around the world multiple times, lived in war zones and refugee camps for months on end, and no one had worried about her. Jean-Claude had left her without so much as a backward glance in rebel-infested villages for weeks sometimes, with only a promise to return as soon as he could. And here Erik was stressing about an hour-and-a-half trip into Winnipeg. Her heart softened a little more. Maybe she should tell him.

No, she had to keep some things to herself, at least until she knew this marriage was for more than just expediency.

“If that will make you happy.” She stretched up on tiptoe and replaced her thumb with her lips, pulling back before he could deepen the kiss and destroy her resolve.

“Coming with you would make me happy. This will just let me breathe while you’re gone.”

“Really, Erik. I’ve been in much more serious situations. I can look after myself.” She drowned the burgeoning hope that he truly cared for her under a deluge of self-reproach. This was only a temporary arrangement, and she needed to be able to stand on her own once it was over.

“I know. But now you don’t have to. I’m here to care for you—you and the baby.”

It was a nice sentiment; however, she could see this smothering was going to get old very fast. “Erik, if this relationship is going to work, you have to give me some space. I’m not used to all this … this … ”

“Loving?” he provided as his grandmother entered the room with papers clutched in her arthritic hand.

“Yes, loving.” She kissed him again quickly, for his grandmother’s sake. The fact that she felt the gentle touch at the ends of her toes meant nothing. “Now go help your gran and mom plan the happiest day of our lives.”

She fled from the house as though it were full of Afghani militants.

A spurt of gravel accompanied her departure from the farmyard. She turned onto the highway, jacked up the tunes, and savored her first taste of freedom in more than two weeks. Get in, get out, and don’t be seen had turned into get engaged, discover pregnancy, and get married. There wasn’t much further her plan could have deteriorated in such a short time.

As she tried on her wedding dress, she shut her mind to all the issues and complications and just reveled in the knowledge that tomorrow she was marrying a good man she enjoyed being with.

Three hours later, she parked the SUV and went the rest of the way on foot. She hadn’t expected The Forks to be so busy on a weekday, even though it was summer. Glancing around, she was amazed at the crowds. Oh well. The Yemeni contact had told her to pick someplace public. She hoped he could find her among all the people.

Analise wandered around the market and then sat on a bench with a decaf iced coffee to listen to a singing group that had set up in the bandstand. It sounded as though they were practicing for a performance on the weekend, as one of the group kept stopping the song to say a few things and then made them begin again. When she heard the start of “Hey Jude” for the fourth time, she was about to get up and walk away, until a dark-haired man sat next to her.

Instantly, she stiffened, suppressing a shudder. He smelled of cigarette smoke and coffee breath. Although dressed in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, he didn’t seem local. She didn’t dare turn to see his face, didn’t want to bring back any unwelcome memories. Jean-Claude hadn’t often introduced her to his contacts, and now she knew why. But the few she had met had made her feel uneasy. How could she not have listened to her instinct telling her there was something wrong? Maybe then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

“They should practice at home and not here in public,” the man said softly, his thick Arab accent sending a shiver up her spine.

“Yes, but they want to get it right on the night. So I guess practicing at the venue gives them a real sense of what it will be like to perform,” she replied.

“J-C said you were too nice. I am sorry he is gone. You can trust that his death has been avenged.”

This time, she didn’t try to hold back the shudder. “There has been too much death. I hope it’s over.”

“You are out of it now. Stay away from the Middle East for a while. Your treatment by the French government was five stars compared with the way the other side will try to extract information from you.”

“I have no intention of returning. And I have no information to give. I didn’t even know Jean-Claude was in that business.”

“Yes, he did his best to keep it from you. He loved you. We told him to leave you; it wasn’t safe for him to have a woman. Yet he was always so confident, saying he could protect you.”

Yes, that sounded like her dead fiancé. Still, his deception hurt.
Had she ever really known him?

“That was Jean-Claude.” An errant tear slipped down her cheek, and she angrily wiped it away. Others had seen the danger she was in, but to him, his own pleasure was more important.

“He left this for you.” The man slid a bag between them. As she moved to peer into it, his hand came over hers, squeezing painfully. “Not here. I have broken protocol enough by speaking with you. I was to drop the bag and go. There is more in a Cayman Islands bank account, but try not to touch that for a year or two, in case the account is being watched.”

“If it’s blood money, I don’t want it,” she protested.

“The only blood on this money is Jean-Claude’s. It belongs to you; you deserve it. Be happy and forget about him.” With that pronouncement, the man stood and walked away, melting into the crowd in seconds. If it weren’t for the stiff leather satchel next to her, she’d have wondered if she’d dreamed the whole exchange.

Hoisting the bag’s strap onto her shoulder, she picked up her shopping and returned to the SUV, remembering to call Erik to tell him she was on her way home. The satchel sat on the passenger seat, mocking her cowardice. When she was miles out of town and the highway was deserted, she pulled over to see what Jean-Claude had left her.

Inside the bag were ten bundles of used American bills. She undid one of the rolls and counted up to $50,000. There were also some gold coins and a bag of precious gems. What did Jean-Claude think she was, some kind of mastermind criminal to monetize this lot? The pawn shop had been suspicious enough when she’d gone to hawk her diamond ring. She’d made up some lame story about the stone belonging to her mother who had once been engaged to a man from Africa. Thinking back, Jean-Claude had given it to her right after he’d returned from a solitary visit to the Congo, an area known for its trade in conflict diamonds. Was everything he’d given her tainted with blood?

Except the baby.

For the sake of their child, she’d remember the good things about her former fiancé. Tell the baby the best about his or her father—his quirky sense of humor and his fascination with flamingoes. She had loved Jean-Claude. He’d kept her from being alone and held her when she was sad. But it wasn’t the deep, emotional pull she felt toward Erik. In a way, her former fiancé had led her back to her first love. He’d probably have laughed at the irony of that.

She shoved the money, jewels, and coins back into the bag. A black leather booklet was in an inside zip pocket. There was a list of account numbers with figures scribbled in Jean-Claude’s backward Arabic. If what she read was true, she was now a very wealthy woman.

She could pay back Erik, buy herself a nice house in the south of France, and raise her baby without having to worry about work or money. Question was, would she?

Putting the SUV back in gear, she merged onto the empty highway, heading back to her grandfather’s place. She now had a way out. Could she leave Erik at the altar to face the mess her departure would leave behind? Or was it time she stopped running?

• • •

“Well, thanks for calling.” Erik hung up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t know which was worse—his gossiping, busybody family or the constant worry that Analise was one click of the heels away from leaving again.

Who had Analise met with in Winnipeg? Was Jean-Claude really dead? It was clear the girl he used to know had morphed into a woman with secrets. Could he trust her? The only way to find out was to go straight to the source.

“Everything all right, son?” His grandfather plodded into the kitchen, the rubber tip of his cane making a squeaking noise on the linoleum.

“Yeah. Aunt Gemma just called to say she was coming to the wedding tomorrow. I need to get out of here for a while. Think you can cover for me while I escape out the back door?”

“Absolutely. And, Erik?”

“Yes, Gramps?”

“Don’t believe everything you hear. Go with your gut.”

Erik stared. How much had he heard? But his advice was sound. His gut told him Analise was a wounded bird that, once healed, would stay true to her nest. He snuck out the back door as he heard his mother call his name. His grandfather winked at him and shot a salute. Always helped to have ex-Army at your back.

Relief swept through him when he saw Analise’s silver SUV parked in front of the stables. Was he going to feel this way every time he came home?
Yay, she hasn’t left me today
. That wasn’t going to work for either of them. They had to talk.

There was no answer at the house, so he wandered around to the barns out back. As he approached the old wooden structure, Analise’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ve got the money now,
Afi
. You can get whatever you want, or go wherever you want. Are you sure you want to start up here again? We could get a small place in England, Ireland, or even Iceland. It would be just the three of us.”

His stomach fell. She was leaving. But not before he got an explanation.

“What about Erik?” Gunnar asked.

“Yes, what about Erik?” He stepped into the barn.

Analise jumped a good foot in the air before whirling around. “Oh, Erik. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I figured that. Planning on skipping out on the wedding? Leaving me at the altar in front of my entire family?” He couldn’t help the bitterness of his tone. She’d just taken a hatchet to his heart.

“I think you two lovebirds need to talk. I’m going to have a quick wash and head to Rosie’s for dinner,” Gunnar said in the deafening silence.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” Erik demanded after the older man left the barn.

Analise took a deep breath, and for a moment he didn’t think she was going to say anything. Then she crossed her arms, her feet planted hip-width apart. “Erik, this is all so sudden for me. I picked up my wedding dress today. My wedding dress! Two weeks ago I drove into town to see my grandfather, get him to come on holiday to Iceland, and then return to my career. I had no plans to get engaged, much less married. I’m freaking out.”

“This wasn’t on my vacation agenda either. I know, though, that we can make this work. But first, you have to trust me.”

He stood his ground. She needed to come to him for once. Needed to choose him over running away. He opened his arms. She hesitated only a minute before she stepped forward and nestled against his chest.
Home.
The word flitted through his mind. Didn’t matter if it was Akureyri, London, or Paris. As long as she was in his arms, he was home.

Analise’s sigh went straight through his shirt and warmed his chest. Was it an expression of surrender or realization that this was where she should be? After a moment, she raised her face. Her fingers threaded into his hair and brought his lips down to hers. Their previous kisses had started gentle, building in heat. This one was molten from the start, searing his mind of all rational thought.

He stumbled back until he hit a pile of straw. It’d been many years since he’d literally had a roll in the hay. It was a lot itchier than he remembered. When Analise’s small hand found the hem of his shirt and ventured underneath to caress his back, he forgot the discomfort and concentrated on her taste, the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her skin. He wasn’t quite sure when his shirt disappeared, but he was very aware when his pants became too tight. His hand had found its way under her top, and with one flick, her bra was undone. He wedged one hand between their bodies so he could feel the bounty now bared to him. Analise’s moan of pleasure fueled his desire. That was one engine that wasn’t going to run dry.

He shifted to access more of her body, and a sharp shaft of straw speared into his back. Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth from Analise’s and forced his hands to return to her hips. His chest heaved as he tried to regain his normal breathing, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. “I’m not a teenager anymore. We need someplace more comfortable.” His voice was husky with desire.

She scrambled to her feet. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and a flush was on every part of skin he could see. Her bra was askew, and her nipples were clearly outlined against her top, taunting him. Why had he stopped?
Idiot.