B00Z637D2Y (R) (8 page)

Leaning against the bar, he checked his watch. Yep. He was back on his routine. A wind-down drink, then catching up on some financial journals, then…

He looked down at the dog at his feet and it wagged its tail. Yeah. No,
then
. For a couple of weeks, he’d just have to defer that part of the evening routine.

Strolling into his bathroom, he stopped short. Dammit. She was like a debris tornado. Her workout clothes lay on the floor in front of the sink and a hair dryer resided inside it. It was a wonder the woman hadn’t shocked herself to death by now. At least his bedroom had escaped unscathed.

Sort of.

Right in the middle of his bed was Mia, curled on her side, hair partially damp, wrapped in a towel, sound asleep. At the sight of her so peaceful, with her hands tucked under her cheek, all of his anger dissipated. The dog jumped onto the bed—something strictly forbidden—and before he could pull it back, the creature balled up in the nest of sheets behind her knees and placed his chin on her calf.

It would take a heartless bastard to wake her up. A bastard he may be, but heartless, he was not—despite her very specific preconceived notions about him. And his heart at that moment squeezed painfully as he looked down at her—the first woman who had ever slept in his bed.

This was a potentially disastrous situation. He needed to be careful. This woman could very well be as destructive to his life as the dog.

…

Michael was avoiding her, and it was driving Mia crazy. For a solid week, she’d lived in near solitude. He would wake up at some ridiculous hour and go work out somewhere, then he’d come home and get ready in a routine so regimented, she’d swear it was choreographed. Then, he’d go off to work and return home at exactly eight twenty. After leaving Clancy with her, he’d pour a drink, then disappear into his bedroom, not to be seen again. This should have suited her fine, but it didn’t. Spending time in his home, seeing his things and smelling his scent had left her one step short of crazy. The more time she spent there, the more curious she became, and the guy had nothing personal in his apartment. No clues as to who he really was inside. Not even a photograph of his family.

Enough was enough. It was Saturday morning and his bedroom door was still closed, which meant he might still be there. If they were going to pull this fiancé fiasco off in a week, they at least needed to know each other’s full names, birthdays, and favorite foods. They also needed to spend some time together so that they at least looked like they knew each other.

After moving Clancy off of her legs, she left the sofa and gently rapped on his bedroom door. No answer. Crap. Maybe she’d missed him. The distinctive click of Clancy’s toenails on the wood floor got closer. Because the dog was still there, chances were, so was Michael.

Holding her breath, she tried the knob. It wasn’t locked.

So wrong. Don’t enter his bedroom while he’s asleep. No. Don’t enter while he’s awake. Don’t enter at all
. But having the self-control of a toddler, she couldn’t stop herself.

Sound asleep, Michael Anderson looked different. His power took a back seat to his sheer beauty, and her fingers itched to touch a paintbrush—or his smooth skin, exposed completely to the waist…a little lower, actually.

Holy smokes. His daily routine obviously paid off. She’d felt those muscles on their chance encounter in the hallway, but this was the first time she’d seen them. It would take such discipline and control to balance his mind and body like that. And for the first time in her adult life, Mia wished she could change. To be a little more disciplined so that she could succeed at more than just surviving day to day by the seat of her pants.

It was too late for that, though. Her path was made. Forgetful, flighty, scatterbrained, she would rely on her intuition and artistic abilities as she always had. Still, if only…

“Mmm,” he murmured as he rolled over, tangling his legs in the sheets. “Yeah, like that…mmm…”

She froze.
No. Freaking. Way.
The almighty Michael Anderson was having an erotic dream. She couldn’t fight back her silly grin.

And then Clancy barked.

Michael sat bolt upright and sucked in a deep breath. Even startled from sleep, he kept an air of calm, waiting until he got his bearings and checking his clock before he spoke. “Is something wrong?”

Silly grin still in place, she shook her head.

“Do you need something?”

“No.”

With a sigh, he flopped back on his pillow. “Why are you in my bedroom, Mia?”

“We need to talk.”

He groaned and draped an arm over his eyes. “Now?”

“Yeah, now. Is there a problem? Did I interrupt something?” Again, the grin threatened to take over her face.

He lowered his arm and studied her a moment. “No.” The finality in his tone was unmistakable. Game over. All business Michael had returned, sending her grin running for the hills.

She sat on the edge of the bed and his eyes widened fractionally. “So, if we’re going to pull off this charade of being engaged at the wedding, we need to practice a little.”

He didn’t move a muscle. “Practice what, exactly?”

“Practice acting like we know each other. Heck, practice acting like we even
like
each other would be a good start.”

“I know you well enough to pull this off. And I like you just fine, Mia.”

Just fine
. He didn’t like her at all, and she knew it. All week, he’d been leaving little Post-it notes around the house with instructions as to where her things should go. “Dirty clothes in the hamper, please.” “Dishes in the dishwasher, please.” “This bowl is for my personal items, not paintbrushes, please.”
Please, please, please.

And he was a complete and total know-it-all, which was maddening. “Okay, then, Michael. In order to make people believe we are really engaged, there are things we would know about each other. For example, what do I sleep in?”

“Warm-up pants and a T-shirt,” he answered with a satisfied smirk.

“When I’m on your sofa, that’s what I wear. What would I wear to bed if we were really dating and we were sleeping together in this bed?” His smirk disappeared completely and she gave herself a mental fist bump. She’d surprised him.
Score: 1-0, Mia.

He cleared his throat and sat up. “If we were dating and you were in this bed, it wouldn’t matter what you wore, Mia. You wouldn’t wear it long. You would be naked. Just like I am now.”

Damn. Score one for Michael. Tied at 1-1, and the crowd goes wild. So does Mia
. After her heart slowed to a non-fatal pace, she took the conversation to a safer topic. “What do you do for fun, Michael? Surely you do more than work all the time.”

“Are you seriously going to sit on the edge of my bed after discussing being naked and ask me what I do for fun? Either you are playing an incredibly clever game, or are so completely unaware of what’s happening here, it’s tragic.”

This man didn’t like her at all. He’d avoided her like the plague this week. She didn’t think sexual innuendo from him meant a thing at this point. Maybe she’d read it wrong. Or maybe to Michael Anderson, a woman was a woman, no matter who she was or how much he didn’t like her. “I’m not playing a game, Michael.”

After many long seconds of study, he nodded. “I believe you. I think you are completely genuine and I apologize. I’m not used to it. I’m used to games and agendas.”

“If I had an agenda, I’d forget it before I could carry it out.”

“And I believe that as well.”

So, he’d figured it out. She was a total featherhead and he knew it. Her eyes stung with tears she refused to release.

He put his warm palm on her knee. “Hey. It’s not that you’re not smart. You are. And talented. I’ve seen your painting. What you need are some organizational skills.”

“I’m past that.”

His fingers tightened, and a thrill shot up her spine. “No. Organization is easy. What you’ve got is like that tree you painted.”

Her breath caught. “You could tell it was a tree?”

“Of course I could. And you are just like that tree. You have all these intelligent, flexible branches and creative, beautiful leaves, but no organizational roots to keep you upright.”

She stared wordlessly.

“The roots are the easy part. And I’m just the guy to help you with it. Organization is my middle name.”

Tucking some hair behind her ear, she met his eyes. “What is your middle name, really?”

“Why?”

“Because if we were really engaged, I’d know.”

“David.”

Michael David Anderson.

“And yours is?”

She ran her finger along the edge of the bed. “Lysander”

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t laugh. Most people laughed.

Shifting a little on the bed, she took a deep breath. “Hermia Lysander Argaropolis. My parents are actors. They met during a production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
They named me after their roles.”

“It suits,” he said.

“Why? Because I’m dramatic and comical?”

“No. Because of the character you’re named after. ‘And though she be but little, she is fierce’.”

She rolled her eyes. “The only thing fierce about me is my hunger. What do you say to breakfast? You have absolutely no food in this place. I thought at first you were a vampire or something.”

He laughed. “No, I eat out. The only thing I dislike more than a mess is having to clean one.”

“Good thing you’re rich.”

“It
is
a good thing. So is being structured. I’ll show you some tricks over breakfast.”

He was wasting his time, and she knew it, but she might actually be able to help
him
out. “Only if I can show you some tricks too.”

“Now, I’m intrigued. What kind of tricks?”

“You show me how to get organized, and I’ll show you how to loosen up and not be a stick-in-the-mud.”

A wicked grin crossed his face. “A stick-in-the-mud, am I? In case you’ve forgotten, I’m totally naked under this sheet. In order to go to breakfast, I will need to get up. If you don’t leave now, I’m going to show you a lot more than organizational skills, Hermia Lysander Argaropolis.”

With a giggle, she fled the room, Clancy’s toenails clicking close behind.

Chapter Seven

Michael stepped off the sidewalk and faced Mia while the dog sniffed around a light pole. “No. Absolutely not.”

Mia crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Now listen here, Mr. All Business and No Play Makes You a Dull Boy. At breakfast, I did everything you asked of me. I uploaded the silly calendar app to my phone. I set every alarm possible for things I don’t want to do, and now my life is going to be run by a phone.”

“You control the phone, Mia. It does what you program it to do. It is not running your life; you are.”

“Whatever. I humored you, and now it’s your turn.” She pulled an empty sugar packet wrapper she’d used in her coffee at breakfast from her pocket and put it in her purse.

He was not riding in a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park. “No.”

The light changed, so she led Clancy across the street to the park, leaving him with no choice but to follow. It was maddening. Of the millions of things to do in this city, she’d pick the most touristy activity possible. He pulled the bill of the Yankees ball cap lower and adjusted his sunglasses.

“Your problem is that you’re so worried about what people will think and how it will affect your business, you don’t really live.”

“I live very well, thank you.”

“No, you don’t. You miss out on stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like carriage rides.”

“Sitting in a wagon that’s covered in kid snot, separated from a haggard animal by a bag of its poop is
not
living.”

She raised her hand and a red and white carriage pulled by a thick white horse stopped. “Well, humor me, like I humored you with the organization lesson.”

“That was for your own good.”

“Well, this is for
your
own good!”

A man with a goatee and top hat grinned down from the driver’s seat. “Good morning, friends. Lovely day for a tour of the park.”

“It is. Could you give us a sec, please?” She pulled him out of earshot of the driver. “Listen, Michael. Clearly, this isn’t going to work. We have less than a week before the wedding. I appreciate you saying you would go, but at this point, I think it would do me more harm than good.”

“I gave my word. I’m going.”

“Worse than you not going would be someone figuring out we aren’t really engaged. I know these people and they know me. They also know that there’s no way a guy like you would ever in a million years even date me, much less marry me.”

At that moment, Michael was more curious about her than he’d been about anyone or anything in his life. She was smart, outspoken, attractive, talented, and kind—hell, she worked at a nursing home. What on earth could be so wrong with her that her own friends would sell her short like that?

“And honestly, no one would believe I’d be interested in you, either. You are the most uptight person I’ve ever met.”

He was
not
uptight—he was organized and efficient. She had it wrong, and he’d prove it. “A carriage ride it is.”

“Oh, yay!” She wrapped her arms around him and gave a squeeze, her nearness jolting even his outermost extremities awake. Amused, he watched as she lifted Clancy into the carriage, and then followed, bouncing with excitement as she settled onto the white leather seat. So full of life. So unlike the type of woman he’d always chosen to spend time with. Her earlier words played through his head.
“You miss out on stuff.”

Maybe he did.

“Come on, Stick, let’s go find some mud for you,” she joked, patting the space next to her. After he took his seat, Clancy settled between them and she held her camera out at arm’s length. “Smile!”

As he plastered a smile he didn’t feel on his face, she clicked a picture of them, and the carriage rolled into motion.

“First time to New York?” The driver asked.