Her Faux Fiancé (8 page)

“Oh, Erik.” She seemed surprised to see him, recovering quickly as her grandfather shot her a questioning glance. “
Afi
and I are leaving for Winnipeg. I should have called you—sorry you’ve had a wasted trip.”

“Seeing you is never a wasted trip. And I’ve got nothing on today. Why don’t I go with you to the city?”

“If Erik goes with you, then you don’t need me,” Gunnar said.

“But
Afi
, I want to spend more time with you.” Analise put a hand on her grandfather’s arm.

Erik winced at the contrast between Analise wanting to be with her family and him trying to avoid his.

“We were together all day yesterday. Go with Erik. I’m not feeling up to a long drive anyway.”

Analise looked ready to argue. She put her bag down on the porch as her grandfather sat on the nearest rocking chair. Mounting the stairs in one bound, Erik caught hold of her hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed each of her knuckles, holding her gaze as he lingered on the ring finger adorned with his diamond.

“We don’t have to go today. We can stay home,” she said. Her voice was breathless.

“I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be with you,” he said. The porch had been swept clean, the windows washed, and the tall grass around the house had been cut back. Two cans of paint sat by the door. They had been busy yesterday. Analise looked tired. He could help Gunnar paint while she supervised. Or both Thordarsons could sit on the porch and tell him what to do. “Is there something around here I could help with? I’m pretty handy with fences.” Did she remember how he’d come over and help her grandfather when she was a teenager? Then, he’d made a big show of taking his shirt off and flexing his muscles, such as they were. It had worked to get her interest then, maybe it would help now.

For the first time, Gunnar looked at him with something like approval. “Go, sweet. Spend the day with Erik. You don’t need an old man tagging along.”

“
Afi
, you’re not an old man,” she protested.

“And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here when you get back,” her granddad encouraged.

With a defeated sigh, she kissed her grandfather’s cheek, picked up her handbag, and followed Erik off the steps.

“Your vehicle or mine?” She jangled her keys.

“We can take yours. Why don’t you drive into town, and I’ll drive back?”

“Really?” Unlocking the doors, she slipped behind the steering wheel. “Jean-Claude never let me drive. He always had to be in control,” she added as she pulled onto the main road.

“I’m
not
Jean-Claude.” He cared less about control than the opportunity to spend the next hour and a half looking at the beautiful woman next to him.

“So I’m beginning to realize.”

As they approached the city, Erik noticed she fiddled with her sunglasses and her left leg bounced up and down to a rapid, silent rhythm. The drive in had been pleasant enough. They’d discussed her favorite places in the world and where she’d avoid in the future. She’d also quizzed him on the merger he’d been working on, seeming to be interested in the process most people found boring in the extreme.

“What did you want to do in Winnipeg?”

“I need to pick up a few things. I didn’t pack for such a long stay. Plus, with all the events surrounding your grandparents’ anniversary, I need a dress or two. How fancy is the big celebration?” Her smile was tight.

“It’ll be pretty formal. The women in my family will take any opportunity to break out their party dresses.” He salivated at the thought of previewing Analise in a dozen formal dresses. He envisaged low cleavage and lots of gorgeous leg. Shopping had never held such appeal.

Taking the ring road, she drove to Polo Park mall, pulling into a stall near The Bay store. She handed Erik the keys.

“Clothes shopping will probably bore you to tears. Why don’t you take the car, and I’ll meet you back here in a couple of hours?” she suggested as she exited the vehicle.

“No, I’m good. I’ll come with you. I’m looking forward to selecting dresses for you to try on.”

Analise put her hand on her hip. “I’m not a doll to be dressed for your pleasure. I shop alone.”

He was about to argue, then remembered her former fiancé’s control issues. “All right. But we haven’t celebrated our engagement. Will you let me take you for dinner after you’re done?”

“You want to celebrate a fake engagement?”

He caressed the back of her neck before he lowered his mouth to hers. “If it were a real engagement, we’d have partied naked with a bottle of champagne, a bowl of strawberries, and some whipped cream,” he whispered against her lips.

She stepped back, breaking the contact. “Dinner it is, then. I’ll text you when I’m done, and you can tell me where to meet you.”

Wandering around the city alone was not the way he wanted to spend the day. But he was playing the long game. A strategic retreat now could mean a proper celebration later. “I’ll book a table at the Palm Room Lounge at Hotel Fort Garry. And I’ll get a room if you want to take a nap or change before dinner.”

“Hotel Fort Garry? You don’t do things cheap, Prairie Boy.”

“Not for my best fiancée.”

“You got a second-class one stashed somewhere?”

“Nope. You’re all the woman I need.”

“We’ll see.” She turned on her heel and walked away without a backward glance.

He locked his knees to stop from following her. He sensed there was something more than the deaths of her fiancé and grandmother bothering her. Was she preparing to run away again? Because he sure as hell wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

• • •

Analise dragged her weary body into the iconic Winnipeg hotel. She dropped her shopping bags in front of the reception desk.

“My, uh … Erik Sigurdson said he booked a room here.”

“You must be Miss Thordarson. Mr. Sigurdson has a room for you, and he’s left a note,” the receptionist said.

Analise signed the registration document and then picked up the envelope.

Maybe a little pampering was what she needed, to let go of the stress and worry for a few hours and recapture her peace. Which would evaporate the second she saw Erik and her body clamored for what it couldn’t have. She passed her bags to the concierge and headed to the spa.

Analise fell asleep during her massage and facial. When she woke, her makeup had also been done. A coat of mascara was all that was needed to complete the transformation. She felt a million times better. More like the real Analise, not the tired-out, injured shell of a woman who’d slumped into town a few days ago. She was ready to take on the world. Or at least the Erik-inhabited portion of it.

Didn’t they say the way to get over one man was to get under another? Although, that had the potential to end in even greater disaster. And there were few places left for her to run. Anywhere in Africa or the Middle East was out of the question; the French government was still investigating whether she was involved in her former fiancé’s activities, so her passport was undoubtedly flagged.

At least having pawned Jean-Claude’s engagement ring, she now was semi-solvent. But the pawn shop had only been able to give her a fraction of its worth, so she was nowhere near being able to pay off Erik. Which meant she’d have to stick around, at least until her name was cleared. She was still debating whether to tell Erik the full story and ask for his help or not.

She pushed open the door to the room Erik had booked and smiled. Prairie Boy didn’t do things by half. It was more than a room—she stepped into a luxury suite. She kicked off her shoes and let her toes sink into the soft carpet. She had less than half an hour, though, to dress for dinner, so she went in search of her shopping bags. Hopefully, one of the dresses she’d bought would be suitable for the fancy restaurant.

Spread out on the bed was a beautiful designer dress, together with some wispy underwear and the most gorgeous pair of black Louboutin shoes she’d seen. Having lived in combat boots for the past four years, she’d never had much of a shoe fetish, but these babies were enough to make her start one.

Despite telling herself a hundred times that she wasn’t going to fall in with whatever nefarious scheme Erik had planned, she put on the dress and slipped on the shoes. She did a twirl and then glanced in the mirror. Not bad. The heels gave her some height, and the dress showed off her curves to the best advantage. She felt like a woman again.

Except her stomach was as full of butterflies as if she were going on her first date. Did he expect that after celebrating their fake engagement with dinner they’d move on to the champagne, strawberries, and whipped cream festivities?

Would she object if he did?

She still hadn’t decided when she approached the entrance to the Palm Room Lounge. Wearing a whisper of red silk and chiffon, teetering on a pair of stilettos, she was overdressed and underdressed at the same time.

Before she could spy Erik in the darkened interior, he appeared at her side. He’d changed into a dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and a bright red tie that matched her dress. She hadn’t thought he could look better than in fitted jeans and a t-shirt. She’d been wrong.

“You are stunning,” he whispered into her ear as he led her to a quiet table tucked against the far wall. He brushed a kiss against her temple as he pushed in her chair. Damn, the man smelled good, too.

“I thought I told you I wasn’t a doll, Prairie Boy,” she said as he sat opposite her. Unfortunately, the breathiness of her voice turned the rebuke into more of a sexy come-on, making it sound like she wasn’t to be dressed but rather undressed.

“And yet you put it on?” He ignored her glare and ran his index finger over the knuckles of her clenched fist.

“I guess there’s a woman in me somewhere who still likes pretty things.” She shrugged, trying to ignore the soft caress of the material against her skin. And Erik’s one finger that was wreaking havoc with her control.

“You’re all woman, Analise. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. A strong, beautiful woman.” The heat of his gaze set off warm tingles over her exposed skin. Mesmerized by his eyes, she didn’t notice the waiter had appeared beside the table until he spoke.

“May I take your drinks order?”

Forcing herself to look away from Erik, she gave the waiter a small smile. “Just an orange juice for me.”

“We’re celebrating—wouldn’t you rather have champagne?” Erik asked.

“I’ll stick with the juice.” Her mother’s dependence on drink and drugs had made Analise wary of any predisposition to substance abuse. Although, her father’s constant infidelity probably had more to do with her mother’s downfall than any inheritable tendency. Plus, she was having enough difficulty staying in control of her body without alcohol reducing her inhibitions.

Erik ordered a glass of wine, then leaned forward again. He ran his fingers up her arm to her elbow and back down again. His touch was smoother and more potent than eighteen-year-old Scotch. They spoke of favorite foods, her photography, and his love of sailing. At some point they transitioned to the restaurant. Erik’s arm around her waist held her tightly against him. Anyone watching them would have no doubts that they were a couple in love. Analise herself was having trouble remembering it was all a façade.

As the waiter cleared their dinner plates, Analise excused herself to use the ladies’ room. As she washed her hands, she stared in the mirror, hardly able to believe the image that reflected back. She glowed. The dark circles under her eyes had disappeared. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t even blame a glass of wine. Excitement hummed through her body and, in the spirit of honesty, a drum of desire also pounded in her veins. Erik was gorgeous, and all evening he’d gazed on her with undisguised lust, tempered with a hint of reverence and care. If only she could erase the past ten years. Go back to the sweet, innocent girl who still believed in happy-ever-afters.

As she exited, she spotted a pay phone tucked in the corner of the hallway. Just her luck. She’d been searching all day, and she’d finally found one when Erik was only meters away. But it was the closest she was likely to get to untraceable private communication. With no time to waste, she dug into the bottom of her purse and pulled out the huge bag of coins she’d prepared for just such an eventuality. As she slotted the money into the phone, she carefully extracted the delicate paper with the number written in Jean-Claude’s nearly illegible Arabic scrawl.

She glanced around, praying that Erik didn’t also make a trip to the washroom. Her fingers shook as she punched in the numbers. An eternity passed before she heard the distant ring through the earpiece. Hopefully, the connection would be decent, and she wouldn’t need to shout.

“
Oui
.” The call was answered on the second ring by a male voice speaking French.

“
Je m’appelle
—”

“I know who you are.” The caller switched to English. “He is dead?”

“Yes.”

“Buy a cheap cell phone with cash. Text this number with the GPS coordinates of a location exactly ten days before you are able to meet. Then dispose of the phone somewhere it will never be found.” The voice was harsh and spoke with an Arab accent.

“How will I know you?”

“I will find you. Choose a place very public. Tell no one.”

The line went dead before she could ask another question.

“Analise?”

She turned to find Erik striding toward her. Replacing the receiver, she gave herself a mental shake.

Tell no one.

“I wanted to call my granddad and let him know I’m okay. He probably expected us back before now.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I’d have loaned you my cell. Don’t you have one?”

“The battery’s dead. I keep forgetting to charge it,” she prevaricated.