Her Faux Fiancé (3 page)

He pulled back a fraction. “Enough time?” He nuzzled her ear, setting off a tingling sensation in her abdomen. “We’re being watched.”

Being watched was nothing new. The French government had let her go, but she was pretty sure they weren’t done screwing with her life. Evidently, Erik was now a hotshot lawyer. Having someone with legal knowledge could come in handy. This could work to her advantage, too.

“Well, I guess it will be all over town within minutes. And if I deny the engagement, it will lead to more questions.”
Smile and nod and get out without telling them anything.

“Thank you, Analise. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

Enough to make up for the way I left before?
They couldn’t go back. But maybe they could part as friends this time. “Just don’t expect too much. I’m not the girl I used to be.”

“Neither of us are the people we used to be.” His phone rang. Glancing down, he gave a wry smile. “It’s my mother. That took longer than I expected.” He answered the call on the fifth ring.

Analise twirled her engagement ring on her finger as she half listened to the snippets of Erik’s mother’s tirade. Jean-Claude would have understood her decision. He’d been all about doing what needed to be done in the moment—and dealing with the fallout, emotional and otherwise, later.

Erik’s voice interrupted her musing. “It was supposed to be a surprise … Yes, Mom, we’re on our way … No, you’ll meet her in a few minutes. We just stopped to grab a coffee … Yes, I know you have coffee there. Listen, you won’t be too clingy, will you? My fiancée isn’t used to such a hands-on family. All right, we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He hung up and winked at her. “The show has begun. I guess we’d better go see our families now.”

“I suppose.” Analise had a terrible feeling this whole thing was going to turn into a right pain in the aperture.

“Do you mind if we see my family first? The farm is closer, and my mother might actually explode if she doesn’t see us soon. We can leave your vehicle here and go the rest of the way in my car. We’ll need the time to get our story straight.”

She hesitated, and Erik put his hand on her face again, running his thumb over her chapped lips with a feather-light touch.

“
D’accord
… okay.” She must’ve been tired; she tended to slip into French when exhausted. “I want to get a
vinnaterta
from the bakery for my grandfather before we go.”

“No problem.” Erik stood and waited for her. When she rose, he put his arm around her waist. Analise enjoyed the feeling of security. The air was filled with birds singing to each other, and a light breeze blew a gentle warmth against her skin. No bombs, no staccato gunfire. Just peace.

Well, and Erik.

Ten minutes later, she sat beside him in his BMW, the cake in her lap. One hand was fisted on the seat-belt buckle, the other rested on the door release. She was more skittish than a newborn calf about to be checked over by the vet.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Analise. I will never hurt you,” he said.

She took a deep breath, and he could tell she was forcing herself to relax. “I know. I just like having my own wheels.”

His jaw clenched at the reminder—so she could run again if she wanted. But he needed her cooperation if his plan was going to work. At some point, they’d have to face the past. For now, though, they had to sort out a story good enough to fool his family. He was counting on the fact that bringing home someone they already knew and loved meant they wouldn’t question why he hadn’t told them about Analise before.

“I’ve been living in Europe for the last eighteen months. I assume you’ve been in France?” He glanced at her after he pulled onto the highway. She now clutched the cake box, but at least her knuckles were no longer white.

“Among other places. But yes, I’ve got an apartment in Paris.”

“So we can say we met again when I visited Paris and have carried on a relationship for the past year or so, and we got engaged last week. Your fiancé’s not likely to show up out of the blue, is he?”

Analise paled. “No, Jean-Claude’s out of my life.”

“Your engagement is over? Why are you still wearing the ring?” This was good news … for his plan, of course. He tried to keep the joy out of his voice and failed.

“We were together for a very long time. I guess I’m still coming to grips with the fact he’s gone.”

“I’m sorry.” His smile disappeared at her evident agony.

“I’ll get over it, eventually.”

“I can see how hard this is for you.” He paused and softened his voice. “Still, for appearance’s sake, I wish you were wearing my ring … ”

“You’re not walking around with an engagement ring in your pocket, are you?”

He clenched his teeth. The answer to that question was going to take longer than the short ride to his grandparents’ farm to explain. He kept quiet, hoping she wouldn’t pursue that line of questioning.

Eventually, she said, “So, you’ve been working in Europe. Whereabouts?”

Easier.
Keep to the facts, counsellor
. “London. I’m a mergers and acquisitions lawyer at Douglas and Wilder. They’re based in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and I have a flat in Islington. What do you do?”

“I’m a freelance photographer. I’ve been working all over the world, mostly in Africa and the Middle East. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Europe the last couple of years, so if you get specific about places we’ve supposedly been, let me know.”

“I’ve been working nonstop on a very large takeover bid for the past year and a half. I’ve only had a few weekends free. None of my family came to visit, because I couldn’t get the time off to show them around. The merger finally went through last month, so I’ve got six weeks’ leave. I plan on staying three weeks with my family, then I have a holiday booked in the Seychelles. How long will you be in Manitoba?”

“I had hoped to convince my grandfather to take a trip to Iceland with me. Aside from that, I haven’t any definite plans.”

How much did her broken engagement figure into her lack of plans? She was the girl who had run out on him. Maybe she’d had a taste of her own medicine this time. Deep down, though, he hated to see her hurting. Damn it, would part of him always care for her?

Erik pulled off the highway onto the dusty gravel road that led to their respective grandparents’ farms. Two minutes up the road, he stopped the car.

“Forgot the way?” For the first time since she’d gotten into the car, she looked at him fully.

He reached out and took her left hand. “Analise, I know this is going to come across as insensitive, but … will you wear my ring? It doesn’t feel right pretending to be your fiancé with another man’s ring on your finger. Especially one as big as that rock. I’ve got money, but there’s no way my family would believe I bought something so … ostentatious. Was your fiancé compensating for something?”

She stared at the diamond on her finger. “I think what jewelry I’m wearing is the least of our worries.”

To his relief, she twisted the ring off her finger and then tucked it into her pocket. He dug into his jeans’ pocket, pulled out a platinum band, and slid it on her finger. While the diamond wasn’t as large as the one she’d been wearing, it was cut and displayed more elegantly. It suited her long fingers, and they both stared at it.

It fit.

His eyes met hers. Did she feel like she’d been slapped in the face by the past as well?

“Are you going to tell me why you have an engagement ring in your pocket?” There was a note of steel in her voice, like this was all too convenient for her to believe. But that was what made him a damn good lawyer—his ability to think fast and turn a situation to his advantage. He’d just never expected to do it slipping his ring on a woman’s finger.

“That’s a conversation that needs to take place over a couple of beers,” he replied, forcing a note of humor into his voice. He restarted the car before she could demand an explanation. As she slid on her sunglasses, he noted the deep shadows under her eyes and the pain in their aqua depths. A twinge of guilt pinched his heart. He’d just conned an exhausted, heartbroken woman into pretending to be his fiancée. To make up for it, he’d play the part to the best of his ability.
High-school drama classes, don’t fail me now.

Five minutes later, they pulled into the long driveway that led to his grandparents’ farm.

“It’s exactly the same,” Analise said, a slight catch in her voice. “Nothing has changed.” Was she remembering the last time she’d been there? He reached over and squeezed her hand lightly.

The light blue, single-story house with navy trim did look just the same. Baskets and planters surrounded the dwelling and overflowed with a variety of blooms in every color imaginable. He hadn’t lied back in the café. This would always be home.

“Some things have changed—my parents are divorced, and my father recently remarried. He and his new wife are coming on the weekend for the family reunion and my grandparents’ sixty-fifth anniversary. My mother is here as well, so it’s bound to be very tense. That’s one of the reasons I’ve come early, to support her.”

“Your mother still lives in the same house?”

“Yes. She gets on with my dad’s family better than my father did. Mom never really got over my sister’s death. Sometimes she still talks as though Karen is alive.”

“Oh.” There was a depth of emotion in that one word he didn’t have the energy to question right now. If Analise had stayed rather than run away …

He stopped the car, and before he had shut off the engine, his mother flew out of the house.

“Erik, Erik, oh, it’s so wonderful to see you!” His mother launched herself at him as he stepped out of the car. The force of her embrace knocked him against the car door. This did not bode well. He’d been hoping for happy. This hug bordered on desperate. And he could smell the wine on his mother’s breath.

Erik pulled out of his mother’s arms and reached for Analise’s hand. She’d gotten out of the car and stood to the side. There was an odd wistfulness to her expression.

“Mom, say hi to my fiancée. You remember Analise, Gunnar Thordarson’s granddaughter?”

“Analise! Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you. You’re back. And with Erik. This is just so perfect. If only Karen were home. She’d be so happy. I’m so happy. I worried Erik would marry one of them snooty lawyer women and live in the city—or worse, in Europe. But now it’s you. I knew ten years ago you two were meant to be together. And now you are. I can’t wait to tell everyone. Come, sit down. I want to hear all about the wedding plans. You’re going to get married here, aren’t you? You have to. It’s only logical with both families living so close—”

“Mom, stop. You’re scaring her.” He put his arm around Analise. She was so pale, he was afraid she might pass out any second. “Analise just got off a long flight, and I’ve been driving for two days. Give us a chance to catch our breath.”

“Oh, Erik, you don’t know anything about women. We love to talk about weddings, don’t we, Analise? My goodness, I haven’t even hugged you yet. Welcome to the Sigurdson family.” His mother wrapped Analise in a hug so tight he heard the air whoosh out of her lungs.

“Mom, enough.”

Reluctantly, his mother released Analise from the bear hug.

“Thank you for the welcome, Mrs. Sigurdson.”

“We’re family now. You must call me ‘Mom.’”

He hadn’t thought it possible Analise could turn any whiter. She swayed on her feet and grabbed his arm. “No, I can’t.”

Oh God, this was going from bad to worse. Not only had his mother brought up Karen but now another tragedy from Analise’s past. If he wanted to keep this fiancée play going more than ten minutes, he had to get her out of here.

“I want to go to my granddad,” she said in a strangled voice.

Her obvious distress brought out his protector instinct. He’d put her in this situation, now he had to get her out. Erik took her hand, opened the passenger-side door, and helped her in. Her muscles were coiled, ready for flight. Would she always react to trouble by running away? He needed to remember that so he didn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. She was too much of a flight risk to gamble his heart on again …

“Erik, where are you going? You can’t leave. You just got here.” His mother’s voice rose, and she reached for the wine glass that she’d abandoned on the porch railing.

“I’m taking Analise to her grandfather’s. I’ll be back in a bit,” he called out.

He glanced over at Analise as he started the engine. Her bottom lip was caught firmly between her teeth. “I’m sorry about my mother,” he said as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the dirt road that led to her grandfather’s stables. “She drinks, and she’s caught up in her own little world. I’m sure she just forgot about your mother.”

Analise released a weary sigh. “It doesn’t matter. But I don’t know if I can take all the wedding talk. Not so soon after … ” She stared out the window. As they passed the fence that marked her grandfather’s land, she turned to Erik. “Can we end this farce now? If you’ll lend me the money for my granddad’s debts, I’ll repay you as soon as possible.”

“I vote we keep the engagement going. I just need to talk to my mom, and she’ll calm down. Besides, Sheryl will have told the whole town by now. What will people think if we break it off so soon? Please, I don’t want a scandal to mar my grandparents’ anniversary.”

It was low, playing on her affection for his family. But he wasn’t ready to give up on this yet.

• • •

She closed her eyes. The world was conspiring against her. Her planned escape from life to heal her body and heart had now turned into a fraudulent public exhibition of a love she’d long ago put into a mental file called “things I’ve lost.” It was a fat file.

But the senior Sigurdsons had always treated her as though she were another granddaughter. They’d celebrated every achievement with her, giving her congratulatory cards when she’d gotten her driving license or aced a test. And every year on the anniversary of her arrival in Akureyri, they’d baked a cake, bought her presents, and partied like it was her birthday. A few weeks of pretending to be Erik’s fiancée would hardly repay their years of kindness. “
Eh oui
, all right, as long as it doesn’t upset my granddad. He’s my first priority.”