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Authors: Sandra Marton

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BOOK: The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée
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“So, I'm going to take Jack Russell's advice. He says my only salvation is to take my fiancée with me.”
There wasn't even a hint of a smile on her lips now.
“Your… Well, of course. I'm sure he's right. A fiancée is certain to put you off-limits.”
David nodded. The office seemed to fill with silence.
“There's only one problem. I don't have a fiancée. So here's my proposal. You need five thousand dollars, I need an actress. Sound workable to you?”
The color drained from Stephanie's face. “You mean, you want me to… You're joking!”
“I've never been more serious.”
“No,” she said quickly. “No, I couldn't.”
“Sure you could.” He got to his feet and walked toward her, moving slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “All you have to do is pretend you're back in sixth grade.”
“It wouldn't be right.”
“Think of it as a kind of collateral on the loan, if it makes you feel better.”
“David, it's crazy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you figuring I'll go to this house party and sleep with you? Because if you are—”
“My motives are purely self-protective, Scarlett. Mimi Sheraton's husband's a nice guy. He deserves better than having me tell him what his wife's doing.” Don't touch her, David told himself. It's bad enough you've made this crazy offer… But a stray curl lay against Stephanie's cheek, and he couldn't help it; he reached out and let it slip around the tip of his finger. “It wouldn't be so difficult, pretending you and I were lovers, would it?”
“David, this is crazy. You can't expect—”
He bent his head and kissed her. Nothing touched but their mouths and yet Stephanie felt something warm and sweet stir and spread its wings, deep in the hidden recesses of her heart.
He lifted his head, his eyes locked on hers. “Say you'll do it,” he said gruffly, and he held his breath, waiting, until, at last, in a voice he could hardly recognize, she said that she would.
CHAPTER TEN
T
HE Sheraton house made Seven Oaks look like an impostor.
Not that the house was another Tara. David had told her it was a Virginia farmhouse, but when had a farmhouse looked like a cross between Buckingham Palace and the Taj Mahal?
“I'll bet nobody with manure on his boots ever got further than that porch,” Stephanie murmured as David took their luggage from the back of his Porsche.
David's brow lifted. “Manure, Scarlett?”
“Manure, David. I'm sure you'll be amazed to hear we have our fair share of the stuff back home in Georgia.”
He grinned. “Not quite as much as there is in our esteemed capitol, but why quibble? You're right. The only thing rural about this place is Mimi's little speech to newcomers about the purity of the bucolic ethos she demanded of her architect and interior designer.”
Stephanie laughed. “She doesn't really say that!”
“Heck, for all I know, she might be right—assuming the
ethos
of a Virginia farm in the seventeen hundreds included gold faucets in all the johns, a dining room that seats fifty, and hot and cold running servants.” David hoisted both their overnight bags under one arm. “Here comes one now. Just watch.”
Stephanie looked toward the house again. A young man dressed in a white jacket and dark trousers was coming briskly toward them.
“Welcome to Sheraton Manor, madam. May I help you with your luggage, sir?”
“Thank you,” David said, “but I can manage myself.”
“I'm sure you can, sir, but—”
“James,” David said. “Your name
is
James, isn't it? I believe we went through a similar dance the last time I was here.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, my name is James, sir. And I—”
“And you are here to anticipate my every need.” David smiled and clapped a hand on James's shoulder. “The thing of it is. James,” he said conversationally, “I had a job picking up after people when I was just about your age.”
James stared at him. “You, sir?”
“Me. And when I finally had enough money to quit, I promised myself I'd never, in this lifetime, ask any man to do something for me that I was capable of doing for myself. Can you understand that, Jimmy?”
For an instant, a boy seemed to replace the proper young man.
“I certainly can…sir.”
David smiled and held out his hand. There was a bill tucked inside it. “Glad we understand each other, son.”
The boy's eyes widened. “Yes, sir. And I hope you have a very pleasant weekend. You and your lady both.”
Stephanie, who'd been smiling at this exchange, suddenly frowned. “I am not—”
“I'm sure we will.” David took her arm. “Won't we, Scarlett?”
Their eyes met and held, and finally she nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
David smiled. “See you around, Jimmy,” he said, and he headed toward the house, his hand still clasping Stephanie's.
“You don't have to hang on to me,” she said coldly. “I'm not going to run away.”
“You're not going to convince Mimi Sheraton that you and I are an item, either, despite what I told her on the phone. Not if you turn to stone each time someone refers to us as a couple.”
“He said—James said—”
“That you were my lady.”
“Yes. And I'm not.”
David stopped, dropped the suitcases and spun Stephanie toward him. “Let's get the ground rules straight here, Scarlett. You've agreed to act the part of the woman I'm engaged to marry.”
“I understand that.” She glared at him. “That doesn't mean…I just don't like the way he said what he said. As if I were your—your—”
“My what?”
“I don't know.” And she didn't. What had the boy said that was so terrible? What was the difference between being David's lady and his fiancée?
“He made it sound as if we were lovers,” David said matter-of-factly.
Stephanie flushed.
“I suppose he did. And that isn't what we agreed to.”
“I see.”
“I hope you do, David, because—”
“This is damn near the twenty-first century, Scarlett, and we are both adults. If we were really engaged to be married, I can promise you, we'd be lovers.”
“Fortunately for me, we are not
really
anything.”
“Listen, Scarlett…”
“David! Yoo-hoo. David, here I am!”
David looked around. Stephanie did, too. A woman stood on the porch. Her auburn hair was lacquered into artful disarray, her makeup was impeccable, and her smile was brilliant.
“Oh, my,” Stephanie whispered, “all she needs is a baton and a bathing suit!”
“Mimi,” David said under his breath, and gave a quick wave of his hand.
“Sweetie, hurry on up here so I can say a proper hello!”
Stephanie's mouth twitched. “Sweetie?”
“Exactly,” David said out of the side of his mouth. “And if you think Miss America's going to be put off by you, me, and chastity, you'd better think again.”
“I'm not going to sleep with you,” Stephanie said quickly.
His smile sent a wave of heat curling straight down to her toes. “Is that a dare, Scarlett?”
“It's a statement of fact, Rhett.”
“David?” Mimi waggled a coral-taloned finger in their direction. “Are you going to make me come down to you?” She laughed and tossed her head, but not one hair so much as shifted. “You know what the sun does to my skin, sweetie.”
Stephanie cocked an eyebrow. “Goodness to Betsy,
sweetie
, whatever does it do?”
“That's it,” David said grimly.
“No,” Stephanie said. “David—”
But he'd already pulled her into his arms. “Smile,” he said. “Act as if you're enjoying this.” And his mouth covered hers.
Act, he'd said…but she didn't have to act. Not when the touch of his lips sent her heart bumping against her ribs, when the earth tilted so that she had to curl her fingers into his jacket and hang on.
“You see?” he said, when he'd finished kissing her. His smile was as cool as if they'd done nothing more than shake hands. “You can carry this off, if you put your mind to it.”
He picked up their luggage and took her hand, the pressure of his fingers exerting a clear message. Live up to our bargain, he was saying, or pay the penalty…and yet, if having him take her in his arms and kiss her was the penalty, did she really want to resist it?

* * *

Mimi Sheraton was all smiles as she greeted David, all girlish purrs as she air-kissed Stephanie on both cheeks, but neither the smiles nor the purrs disguised the fact that Stephanie was about as welcome at Sheraton Manor as she'd been at Seven Oaks.
Mimi tried to be subtle. She pushed herself between them, linked arms and led them into a foyer big enough to double as a dance hall, playing the role of perfect hostess to the hilt, chattering nonstop as she led them up a wide staircase. They paused at the top, and Mimi turned her smile on Stephanie.
“You must tell me, dear. However did you land this gorgeous man?”
“I'm afraid you'll have to ask him,” Stephanie said airily.
“It was all rather sudden, wasn't it?” Mimi clutched their arms again and started down the hall. “I mean, how long have you and David known each other?”
Stephanie looked past their hostess to David for help, but he was strolling along, seemingly intent on studying the carpet that seemed to stretch for miles into the distance.
“You must be the reason he hasn't been available the past couple of weeks,” Mimi said, answering her own question. She flashed her killer smile. “You know, darling, there are going to be scores of ladies out for your scalp. Even I, a happily married woman, was stunned when David phoned yesterday and told me the news.”
Stephanie laughed gaily. “You'll defend me, won't you, Mimi? As a happily married woman.”
Mimi chuckled. “Of course! Ah. Here we are.” She drew their little party to a halt and opened the door on a sea of blue. “The Blue Room for you, David, sweetie.” She leaned toward him, batting her lashes. “I'm just across the hall, remember?”
David smiled politely. “How could I possibly forget?”
“And your girlfriend—”
“Fiancée.”
“Fiancée. Of course. That's what I meant. She's in the Ruby Room in the West Wi—”
“No.”
Mimi's smile faltered. “No?”
David looked down at Mimi's hand, clutching his elbow. Gently, he peeled it loose, moved to Stephanie's side, and put his arm around her.
“Scarlett and I wouldn't want to be separated, not even for one night. Would we, darling?”
“Scarlett,” Mimi said with a little laugh, “isn't that charming?”
“Charming,” Stephanie said through her teeth. She looked at David. “Of course we wouldn't want to be separated, lover. But if those are the arrangements our hostess has made…”
“Then,” David said, “I'm afraid she'll just have to unmake them.” He looked at Mimi. “That isn't a problem, is it?”
Mimi cleared her throat. “Well…well, I suppose… Scarlett—I mean, Stephanie can have the room next to yours.”
“Do the rooms connect?”
Stephanie resisted the urge to slap that little smile from David's handsome face. “It really isn't necessary—”
“Yes, it is,” David said, and kissed her.
Mimi made a strangled sound. “Cocktails in an hour,” she chirruped, and fled.

* * *

Stephanie glared at her opened suitcase.
“I,” she said to it, “am going home.” All David's talk, about needing to thwart Mimi Sheraton's plans. “Liar,” Stephanie muttered.
What did he think? That he'd purchased a playmate for the weekend? Well, he was in for one hell of a nasty surprise… although, it was true, Mimi did seem to have her sights set on David.
Stephanie sat down on the edge of the bed. Actually. even a trout snapping at a mayfly would have shown more finesse, but that didn't mean David had to make such a display of kissing her or of his intention of supposedly slipping into her bed tonight, when the house lay silent and sleeping.
Didn't he care what people thought?
Stephanie flopped back against the pillows. Of course, he cared. He
wanted
them to think exactly what Mimi was thinking. That was the purpose of all of this. And she had no right to complain. She'd agreed to play this dumb game. David was lending her five thousand dollars to go along with it, and who was she kidding? He was
giving
her the money because she'd probably be a hundred years old before she saved enough to pay him back.
Oh, lord. What a mess. She
hated
the way Mimi Sheraton had looked at her,
hated
the cheap way she'd felt…
Be honest, Steffie. What you really hate is how you crumple each time David kisses you
.
She sat up. There was only one thing to do. She'd have to tell him this ridiculous deal was off. No playing his girlfriend.
No five thousand dollars.
What would become of Paul?
He had never turned his back on her, not even after their mother left. Not that Bess's leaving had made a difference. Bess hadn't paid much attention to either of them, and Stephanie had done the cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing ever since she could remember.
Paul was the one whose life had changed. He'd been forced to grow up fast. He'd quit school and become their breadwinner, and even though he was younger than she by eleven months, he'd turned into her big brother and father all in one. He'd even given up his music, the thing he loved most, rather than leave her alone to face Willingham Corners and the world it represented.
How could she have left
him
, after his accident? It hadn't even been much of an accident. His car skidded off the road one rainy night and hit a tree. The fender got crumpled and Paul got a bump on his head, but a few weeks later, he'd started to change. He began to have headaches, and hear noises, and sometimes he didn't know who she was or where he was…
“Swear to me, Steff,” he'd begged when he was lucid. “Swear you won't ever tell anybody what's happened to me. They'll say it's ‘cause I'm a Horton, 'cause I'm our mama's son.”
BOOK: The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée
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