Temporary Fiancée (3 page)

“This is a difficult situation for me, Miss Marchand. Try not to get upset if I am not as tactful as you’d like me to be.” Most people wouldn’t recognize that pitiful excuse for an apology, but the tension eased out of her shoulders and most of the fire left her eyes.

“It won’t be difficult to control my cheerfulness from now on,” she said, so dryly he almost laughed again. “What should I call you now that we’re engaged?”

“What?” The matter-of-fact reference to their engagement threw him.

“What. Should. I. Call. You?” She enunciated each word as if he were mentally defective.

He didn’t appreciate her sarcasm any more than he did her excessive enthusiasm. Why couldn’t she stay in neutral? “Rand. Everyone calls me Rand.”

She looked at him expectantly, probably thinking he would ask her the same question, but he was suddenly exhausted. His leg hurt like hell, Angela was coming, and on some bizarre impulse he’d asked a total stranger to act as his fiancée. Like a dark glove, depression encompassed him as he limped to his La-Z-Boy recliner and practically fell into it.

And my name is Haley, you insufferable jackass.
She followed him into the living room. Although Andrew McNeill could have posed for a Chippendale calendar, he had the warmth and personality of a pit bull. But she did love his house. Glancing around the huge living room, her senses reveled in each aspect of the wide-open, sunlit room.

She was reminded of a description she’d recently read of a near death experience and someone walking into the light—Heaven. A skylight in the cathedral ceiling as well as glass windows and doors installed along one wall of the house were responsible for the light and airy feeling in the room, but it still felt magical to her.

She sensed that from now on it would be more difficult to be content in her cramped, one-bedroom apartment. She sighed. Money did make you more comfortable. However, if her career plans took off as she expected they would, she’d build a house just like this.

Although the room had a definite masculine flavor, the overall feeling was warm and comfortable. The oak floor of the living room was polished to a high gloss, and brightly colored rugs scattered throughout the room complemented the neutral earth tones of the furniture. The stone fireplace, bordered by bookshelves on both sides, added a rustic appeal, making the room even more warm and welcoming.

Andrew McNeill was an eclectic reader, Haley noted. Thick business and computer books rubbed bindings with McCullough, Grisham, and Patterson, who were also on her favorite author’s list.

McNeill sat quietly, watching her wander around his living room, the barest suggestion of a smile on his face.

Haley turned to him and said enthusiastically, “This is the most terrific room I’ve ever seen! I think maybe a few floral arrangements would add a feminine touch.”

His smile disappeared, replaced by a grim tightening of his jaw. Were all references to females taboo? Remembering his comment about toning down her cheerfulness, Haley perched hesitantly on the loveseat closest to him.
Steady girl
, she warned herself, embarrassed to admit that the look of annoyance on his face intimidated her. She sighed when he closed his eyes.

I’m not up for this.
Her parents, her aunts and uncles, in fact, almost all the people she grew up with in Calvin County, Oklahoma, were optimistic, cheerful people. Nearly all the people she’d met in this bustling Idaho city were generally pleasant. Obviously, Rand McNeill did not fit the mold. Cheerfulness annoyed him. Spontaneity annoyed him. In fact, everything about her pretty much annoyed him. She grinned to herself. At least he wasn’t ignoring her.

Since his eyes were closed, she stared openly at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. A grimace flashed across his face as he shifted his cast from the floor to the footrest. The leg must be painful. Grooves ran down the side of his surprisingly sexy mouth. He was probably a terrific kisser. She licked her lips as that strange tightening in her lower abdomen once again made itself known. Handsome and sexy. All hard angles and planes. She had to admit the man was intriguing.

Don’t even go there
. Handsome is as handsome does was Granny Justine’s favorite saying, and he seems to have a nasty chip on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes to find her staring at him. “What is it?” he asked sharply.

She shrugged. “I thought we had some time problems here, but if you don’t want to talk right now, I can wait.”

“I’m thinking,” he said.

She settled back in the loveseat and looked around the room. A large framed photo of a beautiful blonde woman immediately caught her eye. “Angela?” she asked, nodding at the picture. The tabloid photos certainly hadn’t been as flattering.

His expression turned bleak. “Yes. I keep forgetting to take it down.” He glanced once more at the picture. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” His smile was bitter.

“If you like blondes. Just so you know, sometimes those fragile blonde types turn fat when they’re forty,” she said, trying to be helpful.

His mouth tightened. “Angela is not a fragile blonde type. She’s a beautiful woman. She is also talented and extremely intelligent.”

I guess that puts me in my place. So he still thinks Angela is talented, intelligent, and beautiful.
Haley was mystified by his championship of the woman he planned to deceive. Maybe he was trying to make her jealous, trying to get her back.

“If you still love her, why don’t you just patch things up?” Haley asked impulsively, then wished she could take the words back when she noted the flash of pain followed by the familiar tightening of his jaw.

“That’s none of your business! You’ve been hired to do a job. Granted the situation is out of the ordinary, but I have my reasons, and I don’t feel compelled to explain them to you.”

She tried to apologize then gave up when she saw he wasn’t listening. Her gaze followed his out to the terrace and pool. Beyond the pool gate, the mountains loomed in jagged splendor.

Rising from the loveseat, she paced to the window and leaned against the glass. The kidney-shaped pool looked inviting. Not a lot of people in Idaho had pools. The season was too short. Maybe they could stage their little drama around the pool, then she wouldn’t have to worry about finding something sexy to wear. She looked pretty decent in her swimsuit.

Turning back toward him, she made another attempt at getting his attention. “Mr. McNeill...er, Rand, do you think we should discuss our engagement? You know, like where we met; how long we’ve known each other? That kind of stuff. I know you’re into computers, but I’m not even sure what it is that you do with them.”

He was still staring at the photograph, his brow furrowed. “I develop and manufacture chips,” he said absently.

“Chocolate or poker?” she joked in a feeble attempt to lighten his mood.

“We manufacture a unique interface chip which can be applied to nearly all software.” His slight smile at her obvious confusion didn’t relieve the bleak emptiness in his eyes.

Haley moved back to the loveseat, stifling the urge to pat his arm. He was obviously suffering over his broken engagement. The local tabloids had hinted at a kinky sex scandal, but they did for every celebrity break-up.

Her imagination vaulted to several dramatic conclusions. Perhaps he had an incurable disease. Maybe he was involved in industrial espionage or embezzled money and was about to be arrested. She glanced at the exquisite woman in the photo. Angela didn’t look like the type who’d visit him in jail. A chill ran through her. Would she be considered an accomplice if he were involved in criminal activity?

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

He looked startled. “What do you mean, trouble?”

“I d-don’t know—money trouble? Business trouble? You know...trouble,” she stumbled to an end, her cheeks flaming.

His scornful gaze slanted to her face. “Miss Marchand, I’m not in any trouble, and I don’t need you to rescue me. This little venture of ours is solely for business reasons. I want this merger to go through, and I don’t want to deal with Angela on a personal level.”

Haley’s fingers clenched as she stammered. “I w-was just wondering…”

His lips curled slightly, his tone laced with sarcasm as he interrupted. “I made a stupid mistake this morning when I told her I was engaged. But I don’t intend to make any more. Do not make up fantasies about me, and don’t think I’m in need of female comfort. I think I’ve already mentioned you’re not my type.”

She drew a deep breath. Mentioned it! If he’d been carrying a neon sign with the words emblazoned on it, the message couldn’t be any clearer. The man was tactless. Hateful. All she was doing was trying to understand him and the weird situation she’d landed in. Did he really think she was weaving daydreams about him? She regretted her earlier concern for him.

She was inordinately proud that her voice remained calm when she finally answered. “That’s really a gift, you know,” she said, nodding her head.

“What are you talking about?”

“That lip thing you do when you are putting people in their place.”

He flushed slightly. “I was not trying to put you in your place.” Then he muttered, “You probably wouldn’t stay there anyway.”

Haley laughed. “That’s better. Don’t stifle yourself, Edith.”

Her Archie Bunker imitation caught him off guard. Although he tried, he couldn’t keep his lips from curving, and Haley felt a sudden surge of optimism. She chuckled softly.

“You have to admit this is an unusual situation for employment. I was just trying to sort through any possible reasons you might have for this charade. But, as you said, it really doesn’t concern me, and I promise, no romantic fantasies.”

As he outlined their fictitious relationship, it was obvious to Haley that while she’d been admiring his house, he’d been formulating the whole engagement thing. They had met the previous year when he hired her to work for him. When his engagement to Angela ended, they had a whirlwind courtship, fell in love, and now planned to be married in a couple of years.

She broke in. “If we’re so much in love, how come we’re waiting so long to get married?”

He paused, annoyed. “I’m tied up with some important business negotiations right now and won’t be free for quite a while.”

She nodded. “If that’s what you told Angela, no wonder the engagement didn’t work out. I don’t like it either. I’m giving your ring back.”

“Miss Marchand, if you continue making idiotic comments, I’ll have to reconsider the whole proposition.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes. “And I haven’t given you a ring.”

She grinned, deciding to enjoy the role of devil’s advocate. As sexy as Rand McNeill appeared, he didn’t seem to have any sense of humor. In fact, he was downright stuffy. Relief surged through her. She had never been attracted to humorless men, no matter how gorgeous they were.

“I can see I’ll have to point out a few things.” She held up her hand, counting on her fingers. “First, since you’ve told me several times, I’m not your usual type, you’re going to have to
pretend
to love me for my ‘terminal cheerfulness,’ or my amazing chocolate mousse, or something.

“Second, if I don’t have a ring, which I of course will return when this is over, no one will believe the story. Third, you will have to stop calling me ‘Miss Marchand’ in that insufferable way. And fourth,” she pointed a slim finger at the portrait, “you’re going to put that picture away.”

He laughed out loud, then looked surprised as if he hadn’t laughed in a while. His laugh, so unexpected, rendered Haley almost lightheaded and generated a delicious warmth in the region around her heart. She began to rethink the stuffy part. If he would loosen up a little, they could have fun with this pretend engagement.

He threw his hands in the air as he acknowledged the hit. “You win. I’m obviously out of my league when it comes to machinations like these. Why don’t you do the plotting?”

She agreed with relish, her imagination leaping at the opportunity. They agreed she would act like herself, rather than pretend to be the sleek, sophisticated type he had always dated.

“I love chocolate mousse,” he said sheepishly. “I should fall in love with someone who can make it.”

As if discomforted by what he’d said, he struggled to his feet, grabbed his cane and hobbled out of the room. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned shortly with a square-cut emerald ring in an antique setting. “Here’s your engagement ring.” He dropped it in her lap.

“This isn’t Angela’s ring, is it?”

His bitter look returned, and Haley fought the desire to soothe him as she would a hurt child, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“No. This ring belonged to my grandmother. Angela kept hers.”

She nodded, deliberately curbing her inquisitive tongue. She forced herself to relax. If Rand McNeill wanted her to help prove his heart wasn’t broken, she’d do it—-for the money.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Okay, we’ve taken care of your first two objections. Now what is your first name, my love?” The mocking words held an undertone of amusement. Amusement that disappeared so quickly, Haley wondered if she had imagined it.

“Haley.”

“Like the comet?”

Haley smiled. “Yes, except my mother didn’t know the comet had double letters in the middle, so it only has one.”

Her parents had told her many times her appearance in their lives, long after they had given up hope of having children, was like the burst of a comet—disrupting the quiet of their existence and bringing the bright light of joy to them. She remained an only child, secure in their love and support for all her aspirations.

Wistfully, Haley wished she could call them. They had been killed in a ten-car pileup driving home from her college graduation three years ago. Right now, she really missed her mother. As soon as she got the chance, she’d call her grandmother. Confused by her reaction to Rand McNeill, she needed some clear-headed advice about how to handle this disconcerting man.