The Substitute (2 page)

The firm had struggled since their father’s death and the bad turn in the economy hadn’t helped. But then Josh had created a revolutionary part that could be used on wind turbines to help produce more electricity with the same amount of wind power. The part had the potential to make millions. So they’d hired a patent attorney and spent a fortune they didn’t have to get the patent process started, hinging the future of their business on it. And it had worked. They’d acquired interest from a serious investor who could help take their engineering firm to a whole new level.

Until last Friday, when their patent had been denied.

A firm in Kansas City, Missouri, had received approval for an identical plan, but how could a firm in Kansas City have so exactly duplicated the esoteric part? Josh had literally stumbled upon the design by accident.

Josh’s company would have to pay thousands more to an attorney to fight the ruling. Thousands they couldn’t afford to lose. Worse yet, the investor had caught wind and threatened to pull out of their agreement if the matter wasn’t resolved within a week. The brothers went out for drinks to strategize about the ruling, which is when, after a couple of rounds, Noah confessed to having shown the plans to a friend of a friend at a conference three years before.

“Who was the friend of a friend?”

Noah looked slightly embarrassed. “She was a woman I picked up in the hotel bar. I took her to my room and the next morning she was gone and so was my bag. A copy of the plans was inside.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Josh asked, his temper rising.

Noah slouched over the bar, cradling a glass tumbler in his hand. He lifted his shoulder into a half-shrug. “They were a copy, Josh. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“We have to fight this.” Josh only realized he was shouting when he took in the startled looks of the other bar patrons. “We didn’t work so hard to file the patent then get this investor just to let it all be flushed down the drain.”

Noah sat up and drained his drink. “Maybe there’s nothing left to fight for.”

Only Josh wasn’t so willing to give up the fight. He’d spent the last seven years pouring his everything into making his father’s company a success. He’d sacrificed his personal life, not to mention his checkbook. No, he couldn’t come this close to making the company financially solvent just to lose it all. There had to be a way to fight this. There just had to be.

He went on to spend the weekend researching everything he could about PMV Engineering, the firm that had filed the patent two weeks before the McMillan brothers. PMV consisted of three partners. One had retired and moved to Belize, which—in and of itself—made Josh suspicious. The other two were still active. Andrew Peterman was the second principal, and his son Drew had joined the firm three years prior—suspicious timing, indeed. From the photos Josh found on the Internet, he made the highly unscientific judgment that the man was cold-blooded enough to set Noah up.

After hours of researching and brainstorming and only six days before the investor pulled out, Josh decided to go to Kansas City to confront the bastards in person. By a stroke of luck, the daughter of the third principal, Bart Vandemeer, was about to get married. Josh figured he could use the distraction to catch them off guard.

Noah thought he was crazy, but then again, he would. Despite being four years older, he’d never been as invested in the company. Still, in spite of his skepticism about the last-minute trip, Noah had driven him to the airport. Since the ticket had been purchased at the last minute, Josh had needed to spring for first class. It had cost a fortune, but at least he could have a beer or two and relax on the flight to Kansas City, take the opportunity to figure out a real plan.

Or at least that’s what he’d thought.

He hadn’t counted on being seated next to the anxious brunette. She was pretty with long, dark hair that hung past her shoulders and long, slender legs—definitely his type—but within a minute of sitting down, she’d accused him of being a terrorist and made her crash-and-burn comment.

It was going to be a long flight.

Maybe he could get the eager flight attendant to move him to coach.

After they reached cruising altitude, the airline attendant stood, and Josh grabbed her attention, not a hard thing to do since she’d kept her eye on him since before takeoff.

She walked straight toward him with a determined look. “Can I help you, Mr. McMillan?”

“I need a Jack and Coke,” he said, forgoing his planned beer. The woman next to him was already driving him crazy. He was going to need something stronger than a beer to endure her tics.

“Of course. Anything else?” The attendant flashed him a blinding smile. The name tag pinned to her uniform read “Tiffani.” Of course it did.

“I want another Mimosa,” the woman next to him said.

The attendant barely acknowledged her order before spinning around to head to the galley.

When she returned, she leaned in closer than necessary to place the woman’s drink on the tray next to him. Then she set a cup of ice along with a can of Coke and a minibar bottle on his tray. “Would you like me to make it for you?”

She was certainly attractive, but she looked too high-maintenance and more his brother’s type. Josh might have been interested in her anyway at a different time, but today he didn’t need the distraction. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

Her smile faltered as she walked away, but while he felt a little bad, there was no sense in leading her on. He was a man on a mission and his mission currently lacked an accompanying plan.

Josh was fixing his drink when, apropos of nothing, the woman next to him asked, “Do you get along with your mother?”

He turned to her. “My
mother?
”

“Yeah, you know,” she waved her hand dismissively. “The woman who raised you.”

He gave her his full attention, still confused. She looked more relaxed now, and he was sure it had something to do with the drink she’d downed before takeoff. “Maybe I was raised by two fathers,” he said, keeping a straight face.

Her eyes widened as though she’d had an epiphany. “
Oh
. Were you?”

“No.” He couldn’t hide a smirk.

She watched him for a second and he studied her while he waited. Her big brown eyes weren’t entirely focused. Could she have been drinking before she boarded the plane? She didn’t seem the type, but who knew.

“So do you?” Her thin eyebrows lifted in an exaggerated movement.

“Do I what?” He’d forgotten her question as he watched her shift in her seat. Her light blue skirt hiked up to mid-thigh and stayed there, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Get along with your mother.”

He grinned, surprising himself. “Yes. I love my mother.”

She lifted her glass and the liquid sloshed around, nearly spilling over the side. “Now that’s different. Loving your mother and getting along with her are two very. Different. Things.” She waved her glass to emphasize her point.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, his mouth pursed. “My mother and I get along pretty well. Better than my brother and me.”

“You’re really, really lucky.” She took a sip of her drink and turned to the window to stare out into the clouds. When she was silent for several minutes, he decided she was done and turned to face the seat in front of him.

Josh took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept well the night before and now that he was on this flight, he realized Noah was right. This caper
was
insane. He hadn’t even reserved a car or hotel for his time in Kansas City.

What the hell was he doing? It wasn’t like he could actually crash the Vandemeer wedding.

“Can I get you something else, Mr. McMillan?” Tiffani asked. Josh opened his eyes, a little irritated now. Wasn’t it a cardinal rule for flight attendants to leave sleeping—or possibly sleeping—passengers alone?

“No, thank you.”

“Can I have some water, please?” the woman next to him asked.

The flight attendant gave her a dirty look, then moved on to the next row. When she returned, she gave the woman her water and looked down at Josh, fluttering her lashes. “Mr. McMillan, if you change your mind, you let me know.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she walked away with a small sigh.

“Mr. McMillan,” the woman next to him sing-songed in an undertone. “Will you have my babies?”

He laughed and turned to her. “She’s that obvious?”

She snorted, then asked after a pause, “Are you married,
Mr. McMillan?
”

He waggled his bare left fingers at her. “Nope. You?”

She looked down at the simple diamond solitaire on her left ring finger. “Nope. Very single.” Then she laughed and looked up at him with a wistful smile. “Guess why I’m going to Kansas City.”

“I have no idea.”

“Guess.”

“You’re joining the circus.”

“Nope. Guess again.” She leaned her head against the window, her eyes partially closed.

He found himself wondering again if she’d spent the morning at the airport bar. It seemed impossible that she could be so drunk off two drinks. “You’re going to join a convent.”

She laughed again and lifted her hand, showing him her ring. “I’m going home to my wedding.”

“But you just said you’re single.”

“I am.
Now
.” She sat up and grabbed the cup of water. “I broke up with the lying, cheating bastard six weeks ago.”

He shook his head. “I’m confused.”

She set her glass down with a thud and water sloshed out. “I didn’t tell my mother.”

“So…you’re going to tell her you’re marrying an invisible man?”

Her eyes widened. “Do you think that would work?”

He chuckled. “No.”

She flopped back in her seat with a humph. “You’re probably right.”

“So let me get this straight: You’re going home to your wedding which is this…?”

“Saturday.” She sat up again and leaned over, then picked up his half-full glass of Coke and Jack Daniel’s and gulped it down in a couple of swigs.

He grabbed her arm and pried the now-empty glass out of her hands. “Whoa, slow down there, slugger.”

“She’ll bring you more, you know,” she mumbled, leaning over the armrest toward him, trying to take the glass back.

He moved it out of reach. “Who?”

“The flight attendant. The
future
Mrs. McMillan.” She burst into giggles and pointed to the glass in his hand, whispering loudly, “Those are free in first class.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But even if they weren’t, the future Mrs. McMillan would probably give them to you for free.”

“You think so?” he teased, looking down the aisle at the woman in question. “What do you think? Should I propose before I get off the plane?”

The brunette scrunched her nose. “She reminds me of some of the sorority girls I knew in college.”

“And is that a good thing or a bad one?”

She tried to look serious, but she needed to squint to see him. “Definitely bad. Those girls were bitches.”

He laughed despite himself. “I think you just saved me from a nasty divorce.”

She pointed her finger at him. “And don’t forget the alimony.”

“True enough. If you weren’t as drunk as a sailor on shore leave, I’d buy you a free drink. Is your mother really that scary?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Worse.” She grabbed her water and drained it.

“So what are you going to do?”

She shrugged. “Tell her, I guess.”

“You
guess?
”

“It might be a really, really short trip.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “She’s picking me up from the airport. I can tell her as soon as she picks me up. Shoot, I didn’t even need to pack my suitcase.”

“It might not be so bad,” he volunteered. “She’ll understand. I can’t imagine a mother would want her daughter to marry a lying, cheating bastard.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nope. She can’t get her deposits back. She warned me last fall before making the bookings.” She looked up at him. “She was pissed about my engagement. She said Jay should have asked Dad for my hand in marriage, as if it were some kind of business transaction. And the fact that I’d dated him for two years without ever bringing him home. Well…that pissed her off too.”

“So why not catch a flight to KC to introduce them?” He could only imagine how upset his mother would be if he got engaged to a woman she’d never met.

She sighed. “Jay could never get away. And honestly, I’ve only been home once in four years. I didn’t
want
him to meet them.”

“So they were basically going to meet him on the way to the chapel? I can understand why she’d be pissed.”

The woman gave him a frustrated glare. “Really, Mr. McMillan? I saved you from the single greatest mistake of your life—Future Mrs. McMillan up there—and you’re turning on me just like that?” She tried to snap her fingers, but she fumbled with them several times before giving up.

He grinned. “When you put it that way…I’m still not surprised your mother was pissed.”

“Well, it wasn’t going to be like that. That’s why we were coming today, so my family could spend an extra couple of days getting to know him.”

“Wow.” He lifted his hands off his lap. “A whole couple of extra days to meet their new son-in-law.”

“You don’t know my family. And the whole thing’s moot. He’s history and my mother has to cancel a twenty-five-thousand-dollar wedding without getting a single penny back.” She took several shallow breaths and Josh realized she was about to cry.

“Hey! Maybe she can get a refund on
some
of it.”

She sniffled, reaching to the floor for her purse, but the seatbelt across her lap kept it out of reach, while also protecting her from falling out of the seat and onto her head—a real danger.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Josh said, already unlatching his belt. He leaned forward and grabbed the bag and set it in her lap.

She pulled out a package of tissues, struggling to tug one loose from the plastic.

He reached over and did it for her.

She blew her nose, a noisy sound, then looked up at him. “Do you want to know the worst part?”