The Engagement Game (Engaged to a Billionaire) (2 page)

"That was your
little
sister?" he jokes.

"Exactly how old do you think I am?"
 
I furrow an eyebrow.
 
My serious stare makes him reach for his collar.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know."
 
I smile.
 
He chuckles and twirls me in a circle.

"Boyfriend?" he eagerly asks.

"No.
 
You?"

"A boyfriend?
 
I'm afraid not.
 
Though I swear that ginger bloke at the bar winked at me once."
 
He looks pleased to hear me laugh.
 
His hand presses firmer on the small of my back.
 
I stand up straighter, praying that I'd flexed my lats at just the right moment to impress him.
 
So far Rex was hitting everything on the checklist - nice teeth, stylish hair, expensive cologne, tailored suit.
 
But there was still a question I hadn't asked.

"Rex," I whisper close to his ear.
 
"What do you do for a living?"
 
He nods as if knowing that question was coming.
 
Red flag answers included freelance consulting, boring business stuff, and I work for the "family".

"I work for my father.
 
He owns a string of hotels that will hopefully be mine one day."
 
Pass
.
 
"What about you Kat?"

"I'm a nurse."
 
I see the casual upwards glance followed by a widening of the eyes.
 
He was picturing me in nurse's outfit.
 
Guys and uniforms.
 
I never quite understood the fascination.

"Wow."

"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"

"I'm just impressed that's all," he replies.
 
But there was nothing impressive about delivering food trays and collecting bedpans.
 
I was basically a glorified waitress that got to shove needles in the customer's arm.
 
I can still remember my first week of twelve hour shifts at Harrison Memorial.
 
That was the first week I gained a new respect for hazelnut lattes and comfortable shoes.
 
"I pegged you as more of a . . ."
 
He pauses.

"Nine to five office girl?" I finish.

"Perhaps."
 
His hand gently smoothes the back of my blouse.
 
My minds races through a series of fantasies, the main one being me as London housewife with a chubby baby called Henry.
 
I waved at the front door of our British mansion in a couture cocktail dress as Rex hopped into the backseat of a Rolls Royce.

"I'm actually more interesting than I seem."
 
Another lie.
 
All I had time for was work, and when I wasn't working or laughing with Holly at the gym I was snapping pictures with my Canon Rebel.

"A wild child at heart.
 
I had a feeling."

"What gave it away?" I tease.
 
"The dragon tattoo on my neck?
 
I knew I should've done my thigh.
 
Much more conservative."
 
Rex chuckles as his eyes skim the curve of my shoulder.

"Listen Kat," he begins.
 
The music stops and Rex loses his train of thought.
 
He glances at his Rolex.
 
"Bollocks.
 
I have to go."
 
My heart sinks.

"Meeting someone for drinks?"

"No."
 
He shakes his head.
 
"Charity auction."

"Well then," I smile, taking a small step back.
 
Pulling away from his tight embrace was torture.
 
"I wouldn't want you to be late."

"Of course," he agrees.
 
He takes another look at the gleam in my amber eyes.
 
"Can I ring you sometime?"
 
My stomach flutters.

"Yes," I breath.
 
Ring me anytime!
 
He pulls out his phone and slowly punches in my phone number as I repeat it to him.

I was going to be thirty next year and I'd spent years waiting for a man that met my criteria.
 
A man that would take care of me, that wouldn't run off with my wallet and stick me with a life-long venture of bill paying.
 
Rex was the guy I was starting to think didn't exist because the ones that did exist were always taken.
 
I finally had a shot at a free one.

I sit next to Leah, still in a daze.

"Uh o-m-g," she mutters.
 
"I'd totally psych a mentally unstable Justin Bieber fan for another look at
that
a-"

"Shhhhh," an elderly woman within earshot finally scolds her.

*          *          *

"NO," Holly exclaims over the phone.
 
"Has he called you yet?"
 
I reach for a bottle of water in the fridge of my one bedroom apartment.
 
In the ad, my landlord described it as cozy with historic charm.
 
What he really meant was small with no place to fit a dining table, but I made it my own as soon as I moved in.
 
I had the walls repainted, the wood floor refinished, and I even talked my landlord into investing in a new sink.
 
The old one was barely deep enough to fit all my cereal bowls.

"It's 1 a.m."

"Right."

"And I have to work in the morning," I add.

"So you won't be joining Leslie and I for drinks tomorrow?
 
Oh wait.
 
Nope.
 
You'll probably have plans by then."
 
The excitement in her voice almost matched mine.

"You really think he'll call that fast?"

"
I
would," she giggles.

"Why are you laughing?"

"No reason."
 
The tone of her voice shifts near the end of her sentence.
 
A dead giveaway that she was lying.
 
The first time she lied to me was in grade school when I sent a note to a freckled boy named Bryan at recess.
 
It was one of the gutsiest things I'd ever done.
 
Do you like me?
 
Check yes or no.
 
He checked no.
 
Holly didn't have the heart to deliver it.
 
Instead she forged a new one that made me smile rather than cry.
 
It was a little white lie to spare my feelings, but a week later she decided that
she
liked Bryan too.
 
I insisted that she choose someone else.
 
"We'll let
him
decide," she said.
 
She already knew what his answer would be.

"You're such a liar," I taunt.

"No," she lies again.

"Whatever."
 
I take a sip of water and head to my bedroom.
 
I neatly place a row of beige throw pillows next to my dresser.
 
"I'm going to bed."

"Okay," she sniggers again.
 
I shake my head and then the thought occurs to me.
 
The nervous giggling.
 
Answering on the first ring at 1 in the morning.
 
The unusual can-do attitude at such a late hour. I let my jaw drop.

"Holly Ann Cates," I recite.
 
"You met someone too, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to kill your
moment
."
 
She yawns.
 
"I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

"It
is
tomorrow," I remind her.

"Whatever."

"And I only have one question," I reply.
 
She knew what I was going to say next.
 
Holly was well aware of
the rules,
having made up most of them.

"Yes," she immediately answers.
 
"He qualifies."
 

Chapter Two

Dr. Saxten is a perv.
 
It is a good thing we only cross paths once a week, sometimes not at all.
 
He always flashes a twisted smile and acts as if my eyes are further down than physically possible.
 
Like me and every other nurse on the second floor didn't notice it.

His eyes skim the top of my scrubs.
 
Scrubs.
 
The most unflattering pieces of clothing next to adult footie pajamas and corduroy overalls.
 
He nods with an annoyingly bouncy brow.
 
I force a half smile and pretend to read the chart in my hands.

"How was the party?" he asks.

"Great," I politely respond.
 
Asking me about my weekends was becoming a regular thing and thank heavens for Sadie's advice.
 
I might have been coaxed into an uncomfortable perv date if it wasn't for her.
 
"I don't care if it's true or not," she said between bites of her poppy seed bagel.
 
"Unless you want to chit-chat-smack-smack with Dr. P, always say you have plans.
 
Always.
"
 
I wasn't the only one who referred to him as something other than the words on his name tag.

"A bit hung over today," he winks.
 
I cringe like I've tasted something sour.
 
"Don't worry.
 
I won't go reporting you to HR."
 
I smile in reply as he pauses for a brief second.
 
The longest second of my day.
 
Was he expecting a song of gratitude or something?
 
I take a huge breath.

"Have a nice day Doc," I mumble.
 
I speed walk down the hall to check on one of my regulars - Earl.
 
A sweet elderly man with prostate cancer.

"Knock knock."
 
I quietly push open the door to find Earl beaming in his hospital bed.
 
His white hair is matted like he's had a rough night.
 
"I come bearing meds."

"Oh bless you, Katherine."
 
He scratches the side of his nose, pushing away a tray of half eaten oatmeal and crumbled up toast.

"Earl," I raise an eyebrow. "What's this?
 
You skipping meals on me?"

"Eh," he waves a bony hand.
 
I hand him his meds and watch while he swallows.
 
"I don't really like the stuff."

"Eat it anyway.
 
I don't want you to spend the day with an upset stomach."

"That's exactly what I told him," a firm voice chimes in from the corner.
 
Earl's son, Jack, looks up from his paper.
 
He runs a hand through his dirty blond hair and scruffy face.
 
"Didn't I Pop?"
 
Earl rolls his eyes.

"
This
one needs more medication than I do."
 
He jokingly gestures at his son.

"Love you too Dad," Jack replies.
 
"Nice to see you again Kat."

"Jack."
 
I nod, keeping my gaze far away from the firm bulkiness under his t-shirt.
 
I busy myself by recording a few things in Earl's chart.

"So," Jack continues.
 
"Did you work over the weekend?"
 
There it was.
 
The small talk - Jack's way of buttering me up before the jokes and the teasing began.
 
I ignore him and proceed to ask Earl a few questions.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?"
 
I make another note.

"Okay," Jack chuckles.

"Can't you see she's busy," Earl scolds.

"Yeah.
 
She is
now.
"
 
He turns the page of his paper and leans forward in his chair.
 
The tip of a black tattoo covering his shoulder becomes visible.

"Calm down both of you," I tease.
 
I head for the door.
 
"I'll see if I can get you something else to eat, okay."
 
I smile as I leave the room, hearing a pair of boots thump behind me.

"Kat," Jack says, following me down the hall.
 
My face comes up to his chest.
 
"Can I ask you something?"

"I told you Jack," I automatically respond.
 
"I'm really busy and I don't have time to-"

"Relax," he laughs.
 
"You think I'd ask you again after you burned me twice?"
 
I would've been lying if I said Jack wasn't pleasing to look at, and he had a weird way of keeping Earl calm despite the hell he was going through.
 
But Jack was a walking red flag - a sexier Chad.
 
For one, his jeans had a rip in the knee and sometimes he smelled like he had spent the night on the floor of a frat house.
 
Jack didn't qualify.
 
He failed on all counts.

"I don't know.
 
I've learned it isn't safe to assume anymore."
 
He bares an imperfect grin.

"A doctor came in this morning.
 
He looked through Dad's chart, shook his head, and left."

"Well it could have been a number of-"

"No Kat," he gently touches my arm.
 
"This time was different."
 
I bite my lip.
 
I had a hunch and hoped it was wrong.
 
But Earl was in his seventies, and losing strength.
 
My heart sinks but I keep a friendly face.
 
I was good at that.
 
Jack follows me to the nearest computer and anxiously waits for me to pull up Earl's records.
 
I glance through a few notes, finding the comments made this morning.
 
My chest pounds beneath my clothes.

"Jack," I softly say.
 
"Why don't you join me in the cafeteria for a coffee?"
 
I glance at a nearby clock.
 
I have time for a quick break.

Jack and I stride down the hall side by side.
 
Jack's arm is inches from mine.
 
I take steady breaths, wondering how I'm going to tell him the news.
 
I normally didn't have much trouble.
 
Delivering bad news was not a foreign concept, but Jack and Earl were different.
 
As weird as it was to admit to myself, I was attached.
 
I'd let myself fall prey to the playful teasing and family stories.
 
That and it wasn't often that I cared for a patient who actually
cared
back.
 
Earl was one of few.

Hallway chatter buzzes through my ears and I remember my first time meeting Jack.
 
It was about six months ago.
 
I sat down at an empty table in the hospital cafeteria with my morning yogurt.
 
A table with a missing chair and a deserted gym bag.
 
After glancing around for a few minutes I opened the bag and rifled through a few items of sweaty clothing and a Robert Jordan novel.
 
I curiously pressed the 'on' button of an ipod nano in an armband case.
 
The last song played was by a local indie band I actually liked.
 
I was intrigued.

"You know I could call the cops for that," a voice startled me.
 
I looked up to see an unshaven face, entrancing blue eyes, and a pair solid biceps.

"Sorry," I blushed.
 
"I was just looking for some kind of identification."

"In my underwear?"

I looked down to see that my hand had innocently wandered to navy blue briefs.
 
My entire arm recoiled.

"Maybe," I replied in an attempt to lighten my embarrassing mishap.
 
"Some boys still write their names on the inside of their underwear, don't they?"

"Only ones that live with their mom."

Check number one.
 
He didn't live with his parents.
 
Hopefully.

"I'm Kat," I said, reaching out a hand.

"Jack.
 
So you're a nurse?"

"Wow . . . lucky guess?"

"Actually," he chuckled - a deep throated chuckle followed by an imperfect smile.
 
"The scrubs gave it away."
 

"Right."
 
I nodded, wondering how many more ways I could make a fool of myself.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Since finishing school," I answered.
 
"I mean I have good days and bad days but for the most part, I love it here at Harrison Memorial."
 

"I can tell."
 
He smiled again, this time glancing at the swirly curl next to my cheek.
 
I tucked the strand behind my ear.
 
"My grandma was a nurse."

"That's pretty hard core."

I laughed, nearly dropping a dollop of mixed berry yogurt all over my top.
 
"She was."

"
Was
?"

"Yeah," I quietly responded.
 
"She's not around to make me ham, cheese, and potato chip sandwiches anymore."

"Interesting combo," Jack chuckled again.
 
"I'll have to try that."

"It's a great remedy for a crappy day," I added.
 
I bit my lip, looking at the clock on the wall.
 
Jack glimpsed over his shoulder.

"Oh," he commented.
 
"I don't want to keep you."

"I was just taking a ten minute time out."
 
I fiddled with the cup of yogurt in my hand.
 
I was stalling.
 
I'd only known Jack a couple minutes but I was eager to see him again when my clothes didn't smell like rubbing alcohol.

"And how much time do you have left?
 
Don't tell me I caught you at minute nine?"

"Five minutes," I smiled.

"I only get
five
minutes to convince you to go out with me?"

My stomach fluttered.
 
But as soon as my cheeks went pink, Holly's voice boomed in my head.
 
All the signs were there.
 
I shrugged.
 
"You could start by telling me more about you?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Ever been to prison?"

"Jumping right into the personal stuff," he nodded.
 
"No, I haven't."
 
Another check.
 
No criminal record.
 
Unless he was really good at lying.

"Are you a San Franciscan?"

"I'm from Seattle," Jack answered.

"Do you live alone?"

"No," he replied.
 
I didn't like where this was going - as long as he didn't say aunt, grandma, or totally chill cousin.
 
"It's me and Nikki."

"I guess I should've prefaced with the obvious," I added.
 
"Do you have a girlfriend, fiancé, wife, or secret family somewhere in Iowa?"

"Not Iowa," he joked.

"Sounds ridiculous but you'd be surprised what-"

"Nikki is my dog," he interrupted.
 
Check number three.
 
He wasn't a mooch.
 
One question left and he'd be first date material.
 
Though I'd have a hard time convincing Holly it was okay if he had seven zero potential instead of ten.
 
A first date wasn't an engagement.