The Boss's Fake Fiancee (14 page)

“Luckily for you,” Garth pointed out, “you don’t actually have to marry me. In a few days, Nan gets the final okay to resume normal activities. After that, you dump me and we go on with our lives like nothing ever happened. You can tell your family all about how painful it was to be engaged to the human computer. And then you can laugh about how lucky you were to get away.”

His words landed like rocks at the pit of her stomach. “Don’t. I’d never do that.”

“Nonsense. We’re just pretending, remember? None of this matters.” He punctuated each word in crisp, clinical relief. “Nan sees Dr. Caldy on Friday. After that, our engagement will be over. You can tell your family you’ve realized the error of your ways and wouldn’t marry me if I paid you a million dollars. That should patch things up, don’t you think?”

Fear snaked its way through her heart. Melissa watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. She took the device from his hands. “Garth, this has nothing to do with our engagement. This has to do with you. And me. And the people on the other side of this door who have no idea who you really are. I know my parents are a little nuts, and my mom drives me crazy sometimes, but they’re still my parents. They love me, and this is hurting them. Can’t you see that?”

He met her gaze for just a moment before looking away. “You’re asking for something I can’t give,” he said. “Something I don’t have. I’m sorry if it’s embarrassing for you.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Melissa said. “I just want to understand. No, let me restate that. I
need
to understand. I’ve spent almost every day over the past two weeks with you and I know you aren’t always like this. Is it because they’re my parents? Or because my brothers are giving you a hard time?”

“You knew this was coming,” Garth said. “I told you—I don’t do small talk. I don’t do relationships or emotions. No warm and fuzzy. I made all these things clear, but you obviously invented some kind of expectation based on who you thought I was, not who I am.” He started to push past her, but she caught his arm.

“Garth.” She turned him around. He looked away. She reached up and held his face between her palms. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing more to say.”

“That’s bullshit. Are you nervous around them? They’d understand, you know.”

He started to pull away. “We should go back.”

“No.” Melissa knew in that moment that she was on the verge of losing him. Of losing everything they’d created. “I’m not letting you disappear like this.”

Words wouldn’t bring him back. She knew that. But what would?

Desperate, she did the only thing she could think to do. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. Hard.

For a moment, he did not respond. He simply stood there, rigid, and she thought she had failed. But then his body melted, and he reached for her and drew her against him, his mouth seeking hungrily against hers. She felt need in his kiss, a need so intense she might have been frightened, had her body not reacted with its own desire.

Aching. Wanting. Something more than sexual.

She wanted to know him.

To understand.

He buried his hands in her hair and tugged, causing the loose knot at the back of her head to fall apart. His fingers grazed her scalp. He was taut and controlled, but she felt the edge of wildness underneath.

“Garth, I…”

He silenced her with a kiss so deep and tender she felt it race all the way through her heart. When she was shuddering, her bones weak and formless, he pulled back to stare into her eyes.

“I can’t—” he started to speak but then fell silent.

“You can’t what?” she prompted. The mix of power and fragility of the moment was nearly overwhelming, and she had to force the words from her throat, worrying all the while that the mere sound of her voice would scare him away.

“I can’t do this,” Garth started again, his voice strangled. The words came in jerks, some fast, some slow. “I don’t know how to make conversation. I always say the wrong thing. Sometimes I practice jokes ahead of time, so I’ll have something to say, but it never works. It always falls flat.”

Melissa froze. There was pain, deep and dark, in his words. Pain she hadn’t begun to guess was there. “We don’t have to stay,” she said quickly. “I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well. Or that I’m not feeling well.”

He shook his head. “It’s not worth it. You’ve lied enough. In a few days this will be over and you can put it all behind you.”

“What if I don’t want to put it behind me?” Her voice quavered and she paused. She didn’t know what she was about to say, but she felt herself on the top of the mountain and she hesitated, not yet ready to jump off.

Garth must have felt her fear, because he turned away and said wearily, “You don’t want this. It won’t work. Trust me, I know. I’ve tried it before.”

“But you know
me
,” she said, her voice feeling small and insignificant against the strength of his conviction. “I don’t know what’s happened before, but I don’t care about the small talk or the jokes. None of that matters.”

“Of course it does. Look, you’re imagining something that isn’t there for us. I’m sorry I’ve upset your family, but—” He started to say something else, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Melissa, honey, what’s going on?”

It was her father. She did not look away from Garth’s steely gaze. “Just a sec, Dad.”

“Melissa.” The warning in her father’s voice was impossible to miss. “Everyone is waiting.”

With a few brisk movements, Garth straightened his shirt, and then hers. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear before turning back to the door. The transformation happened so fast, Melissa almost didn’t believe what she was seeing.

By the time he reached the threshold his face held no expression. No sign that a moment before he had been kissing her as if their lives depended on it. He opened the door and looked into the face of her father.

“So sorry,” he murmured politely. “I had a phone call I needed to take.”

The chilly stranger was back.

…

None of this had been a surprise. Still, the pain built, so raw and deep he had to bury it further inside his soul than anything ever he’d buried before. Below Samantha. Below Howard Fendle and a dozen other bullies. He clutched a cup of coffee and stared down Melissa’s brother Ross the way he had learned in college.

Reveal nothing. Keep the anger inside. Stay calm.

“Things must be a little awkward around the office,” Ross said. “I bet your HR department wasn’t happy about it.” His words might have been intended vaguely as a joke, but they emerged as more of a threat. “I think I saw a training video just last week about the dangers of dating my employees.”

Ross, Garth had just learned, managed a construction crew of about a hundred. He had thick black hair and, like Melissa, arresting blue eyes. But his eyes—and the large, capable fists at his sides—were distinctly unfriendly.

“Is that right?” Garth replied. “How ironic.”

He didn’t want to be talking to Ross. He didn’t want to talk to John, or even mild-mannered Joe, who looked more bewildered and concerned than angry. But at least talking to them was better than talking to Melissa. He couldn’t even look at her. Not now, when he’d just spilled words that burned his throat and left him shaking.

It isn’t worth the pain.

Ross was circling him like a wolf, looking for an exposed Achilles heel. “I heard you weren’t ready to set a date just yet.”

“Nope.” Garth put his hands on his pockets and adopted a bored expression. He had the feeling this would infuriate his interrogator, and he was right. Across the room Melissa tried to catch his eye. He ignored her. He’d almost lost it, back there in her parents’ bedroom, and he knew he’d now have to work that much harder to re-erect the walls she kept trying to break down.

Ross leaned forward, dropping his voice. “I don’t know what your game is, but if you hurt her, I’ll see that you pay, understand?”

Garth didn’t react, just maintained a chilly distance between them. Finally, Ross made a sound of disgust and walked away.

Garth knew it was time that he did the same.

…

They waved good-bye at noon, even though they had planned to stay until one. Melissa got into the car with a feeling of dread. After that intense moment in her parents’ bedroom, things had fallen from bad to worse. The conversation had been stilted, the air rife with tension. John had turned on his full protective-father mode. He’d gone so far as to ask that they consider calling off the engagement, at least until they had a little more time to get to know each other. Garth had barely reacted to the suggestion at all.

“I understand your concern, John,” he’d said, “but Melissa is an adult. I think you’ll have to leave it to her to make that decision.”

Phoebe had cornered her in the kitchen, her eyes tearing as she grabbed Melissa’s shoulders. “’Lis, honey, this isn’t right,” she said. “You deserve so much more than this. I don’t understand why you’re doing this but please, reconsider. Can’t you see that you’re making a terrible mistake?”

“Mom, I’m not going to do something stupid,” Melissa said, her own throat tightening at her mother’s concern. “He isn’t usually like this. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Ross left after they ate, claiming that Matt had an early soccer practice that afternoon. He gave Garth a baleful look that spoke volumes as he walked out the door. Joe disappeared a few minutes later. He said he needed to take care of Felicity. His hug and whispered “Call me if you need anything” nearly broke Melissa’s heart.

She didn’t know who to worry about more—her parents, her brothers, or her fake fiancé.

Back at her apartment, Garth walked her upstairs, but stopped at the door.

“Don’t you want to come in?” Melissa asked. She wanted to say more but the words died in her throat. His expression darkened into a formidable scowl.

“Sorry. I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll probably just head to the office for the rest of the day.” He gestured toward the front of the building, with its by-now usual coterie of photographers. “I’ll have a driver come pick you up in the morning so you don’t have to take the train.”

“You aren’t coming back,” she said.

“No.”

She swallowed hard, forcing down the pride that stuck in her throat. “Please,” she whispered. “Stay. Talk to me.”

He did not pause. “I can’t.”

Part of her wanted to beg and plead, but she knew with a sickening clarity that he would not change his mind. The walls had gone up, and he had no intention of letting her back inside. “I understand,” she said, defeated. “Say hi to Nan and the dogs for me.”

“I will.”

He paused at the doorway. She waited, hoping he might say something more, but his lips simply tightened. A moment of silence passed between them before he turned around and walked away.

Chapter Sixteen

Garth tossed the remainder of his glass of single-malt whisky down his throat. The expensive liquid created a slow burn in its wake. The sensation was pleasurable, just like the buzzing in his head. He contemplated pouring another drink, but that seemed to require a great deal of effort.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Jess’s voice came from the doorway.

He squinted at her. Granted, she was a little fuzzy, but he hardly thought that meant he couldn’t have one more drink. “You are a busybody,” he proclaimed. The words slurred a little. He tried to remember how many glasses he had consumed. Two? Three?

Jess frowned. “Wow, you really
are
drunk.”

“Maybe.” He focused on the half-full bottle of amber liquid. Had it been full when he started drinking? Surely not. Maybe he’d had four drinks, but not more than that.

“I called your fiancée.”

Garth straightened abruptly. The glass fell from his hand and landed with a thud on the thick Oriental carpet. Han Solo, who had been curled up in Garth’s lap, raised his head accusingly. Garth scratched him behind the ears and the dog settled back down.

“Why,” he said, priding himself on the calm sound of his voice, “in the name of all that is holy did you do that?”

“Because you obviously had a fight and you need to work things out.”

“We didn’t have a fight.”

“Right. And you’re drinking yourself into a stupor because you’re happy about something?”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?”

“Garth,” Jess said patiently. “I’ve never seen you do this before.”

“So? Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Maybe I’ve decided to start trying to increase my tolerance to alcohol.”

Jess snorted. “Right. And maybe you’re going to get rid of your
Star Wars
action figure collection.”

Garth leaned over to pick up his glass. “I’m going to pour myself another drink,” he said as he stretched out his hand. The damned glass must have had legs, because every time he tried to close his hand around it, the stupid thing slid out of his reach. He leaned forward a few more inches. “Because I’m happy,” he continued. “And relaxed. Sometimes happy and relaxed men drink a lot.”

“I sent a car for her. They just buzzed from the front gate.”

Garth fell out of his chair. Han leaped to safety just in time to avoid being squashed beneath Garth’s falling body. “I am on the floor,” he announced to Jess a moment later, “because I want to be. Please don’t misinterpret what just occurred.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He blinked a few times. Was Chewbacca in the room now? The single image of a little white dog had turned into two little white dogs. Which seemed odd, because the last time he checked, Chewy and Luke were sleeping with Nan.

A ringing sound started in his ears. He winced and wrapped his hands around his head. “That,” he declared, “is very unpleasant.”

“She must be at the door. I’ll be right back,” Jess said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

This seemed like a patently ridiculous thing for her to say, as his legs had completely stopped working. Garth rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. This felt better, but then the room started to spin, so he pushed himself to a sitting position.

“Han,” he said, squinting to focus on the dancing outline of the dog that sat a few feet away. “Women are a disaster, do you hear me? A complete and utter disaster. You should be glad you only have your brothers to deal with.”

The dog nodded, panting.

“I’m glad you agree.” He closed his eyes and tried to remember how he’d gotten on the floor. It must have been Melissa’s fault.

Melissa.

Sensitive, emotional Melissa.

He had made some colossal mistake with her, the specifics of which eluded him right now. Perhaps it had simply been in hiring her. Truly, if he hadn’t hired her, none of this would have happened.

Maybe he should fire her. Would that solve the problem? He had a bad feeling it would not. Besides, thinking about her going away made him want to drink the rest of the bottle of whisky.

“Garth?”

He looked up. A female form was silhouetted in the doorway. “Jess, I told you to leave me alone.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I already told you. I am here because I want to be.”

“What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

And she said
he
was drunk? Hadn’t he just had this conversation with her?

He put his hands underneath his legs and pushed to his feet. He swayed on the way up, and the woman from the door rushed to his side.

“Hold still,” she murmured, tucking her body against his and looping her arm around his waist. “We’ve got to get you into bed.”

He frowned. “Melissa, is that you?”

A bright blue pair of eyes met his.

Damn, she was beautiful.

“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding as if it was coming from a distance. “And I’m taking you to bed.”

“But you’re mad at me,” he said.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Yes, you are.” He struggled to remember why. “I was mean to your parents. And your brothers hate me.”

“They don’t understand. This is a very complicated situation.”

Not as complicated as moving his legs turned out to be. He stared down at his feet, which seemed to be heading in opposite directions.

“Do you need help, Melissa?”

Now that
was
Jess. He swung around to glare at her. He vaguely remembered that she had made him angry, though he wasn’t entirely sure how. Still, he tried to channel some righteous indignation. “Haven’t you done enough?”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m headed home. You got him?”

Melissa nodded. “I think so. We can always bed down here in the study if need be.”

“Nurse Margaret sleeps in the room next to Nan. If you have any trouble, just give her a ring.”

“I do
not
need a nurse,” Garth said. He paused to untangle his feet. “I will see you in the morning, Jess.”

She saluted him briskly. “Aye, aye, captain. I’m sure it will be a bright and early one for you.”

He ignored her. The floor had become uneven, and he needed all his attention to keep from falling down.

Melissa tightened her hold around his waist. “Are you ready to try the stairs?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re leaning against the wall.”

He started, surprised to find that the wall was, indeed, pushing against his shoulder. He righted himself and headed for the stairs. Left foot. Right. Left. He pretended his feet were soldiers and he was ordering them into battle.

Onward, brave soldiers!

“What’s so funny?” Melissa asked.

He chuckled. “Ah, it’s really a private joke.”

She snorted. “I suppose it’s good to see you laughing.”

“Nan used to call me Mr. Silly Pants,” he told her gravely. “When I was younger.”

“I hope it wasn’t last year,” Melissa said. She steered him around a landing and up the next flight of stairs. “I have to admit, I can’t imagine you being silly.”

Garth pushed back his nose and crossed his eyes. “How’s that for silly?”

Melissa laughed. He started to do the same, but the movement cost him his balance and he had to grab the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs. “Whoa!”

“Whoa is right. Let’s keep the jokes to a minimum until you get in bed, Mr. Silly Pants.”

Still chuckling, Garth pulled himself up the railing. “You’re cute when you laugh.”

“So are you.”

They got to the top of the stairs. He turned around and pulled her into his arms. “Cute and sexy.” He kissed her deeply. She responded to him for a moment, then pushed at his chest, breaking the contact between them.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.

He studied her. She had a small halo around her head, perhaps because of the light behind her, or perhaps because he was squinting hard to keep her from turning into three identical twins.

“What’s not a bad idea? Sleeping with me?” he cocked his head, confused. “Haven’t you already done that?”

A smile brushed across her face. “Yes, I have. More than once.”

He pulled her more tightly into his arms. “Well, then, it’s a bit late for second-guessing, isn’t it?”

She laughed, and he felt something tug inside his chest. Why couldn’t he make her laugh more often? Why did this have to feel so strange and comfortable, all at once?

“You were the one who left me,” she said, poking a finger at his chest.

He knit his brows together, trying to imagine what would have caused him to do such a ridiculous thing. He had a vague memory of her brothers, Ross and…somebody or other, glaring at him. And her father and mother, disappointed.

The memory hurt his head, so he pushed it aside. Clearly, it was time to change the subject. “Did you know women are aliens?”

Melissa laughed. “How can you be sure?”

He paused, and then said, with an air of conspiracy, “I figured it out in college.”

“I see. Was there any particular woman who led you to this conclusion?”

That was easy. “Samantha. She was definitely an alien.”

“Who was Samantha?”

This question seemed odd. Didn’t everyone know Samantha? “My girlfriend. Or I thought she was my girlfriend, but she said I was crazy. I told her I loved her and she laughed. But she kept the necklace. She said the diamond was pretty.”

The conversation was making his stomach ache. He didn’t want to think about Samantha, or women, or diamonds. In fact, he’d started drinking precisely because he didn’t want to think about any of these things. “I think,” he declared, “that we should stop talking about this, and get in bed.”

“Subtle.” Melissa gazed up at him, but she wasn’t smiling any longer. This bothered him, so he kissed her, and the sweet taste of her lips eased whatever discomfort he had started to feel. He did it again, running his hands down her body, relishing the feeling of her. He took one of her hands and laced his fingers through hers, bumping against a thick ring band as he did.

She belongs to me.

The voice in his head startled him, and he tried to ignore it and focus on more kissing. More touching. But each time he moved he brushed against that ring, which started a chorus of voices, repeating themselves over and over:

Mine mine mine…

She had a ring on her finger that he’d put there. This seemed to clarify any confusion that might arise. Melissa was his now, and no one could take her away.

“Bed,” he whispered.

“Yes.” She smiled again, but this time it looked sad. Which was all wrong. But he would make it right.

If he could only get his balance.

…

Melissa watched as Garth’s mouth fell open and he began to snore. She had wrestled him into his bed—no small accomplishment in and of itself—just in time for him to pass out. Now, as the sound of his breathing filled the room, he sprawled on top of the comforter in a position of utter relaxation.

She thought about the pain that must have sent him into that bottle tonight and his discomfort at her parents’ house. Then she imagined cruel Samantha, taking his innocent gift and laughing at his na
ï
veté.

And her heart broke right down the middle.

“I guess you showed her,” she murmured, gently arranging his hands at his sides and centering the pillow under his head. An incredible home, successful business, his pick of beautiful women to share his bed.

But did it matter, when the damage had already been done?

She thought about the way Garth had tensed when Howard and Yolanda Fendle had approached them at Seesaw. And she vowed that if she ever saw Howard again, she would punch him right in the middle of his smug, self-satisfied face.

When Jess had called earlier that evening, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. She knew Garth hadn’t wanted her around tonight—meeting her parents had triggered something dark in him, and he obviously wanted to be alone. But when Jess said he was drinking, and seemed upset, how could she stay away? At least for a little while longer, he was her fiancé. And she wasn’t going to let him suffer alone.

Now, feeling like the worst sort of interloper, she stole back downstairs. She grabbed her small bag of clothes and toiletries, which she’d left in the front hall when she first arrived. By the time she returned to Garth’s bed, having put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth, he had rolled over onto his side. She debated wrestling him out of his clothes. He still wore a leather belt, and the silver buckle looked like it was cutting into his stomach.

“Great. Now I’m going to feel guilty if I don’t get this thing off you.” She bit her lip, trying to imagine how she could remove it without waking him. Realizing he was probably deeply asleep, she carefully unbuckled the heavy metal and began pulling the other end through the loops on his pants. When the belt stuck underneath his body, she sighed and pushed against him. Finally, she worked the leather loose and threw it on the floor.

She leaned over to kiss him one last time before going to the spare bedroom down the hall. Unexpectedly, his hand shot out and caught her waist, dragging her down on top of him.

“Don’t leave.”

He had not even opened his eyes, and within seconds, his breathing had returned to a soft snore. Melissa lay still, captured under his arm. She thought about fighting him, and wrestling loose from his grasp, but only for a moment. Then she sighed and reached for a pillow. She tucked it under her head and snuggled into the curve of his body.

I don’t want to leave.

Not ever again.