His fake fiancée?

Artist Holly Motta arrives in New York to make a new start...only to find billionaire Ethan Benton occupying the apartment where she is meant to be staying! But there’s another surprise in store... Ethan needs a fake fiancée—fast!—and he wants her to fill the role!

But Ethan’s got no intention of trusting any woman with his heart. Until he lets beautiful Holly into his world...and discovers she is the only woman he’d really like to make his wife!

Ethan bent in and brought his mouth to Holly’s. Only it wasn’t a feather-soft dinner kiss meant to fool his aunt. No, his unexpected lips were bold. And hot. And they smashed against hers.

Their insistence didn’t let her pull away. Instead, she swirled inside. Got lost in the moment. Let it go on several beats too many.

Until she could finally separate herself from him.

Holly feared everyone at the table could hear her heart pounding outside of her chest.

Ethan looked as shocked as she felt. But, after a moment, he picked up his fork and resumed eating. Following his lead, she did the same.

Fortunately, neither Louise nor Fernando noticed anything strange. Holly and Ethan were engaged, after all. Why wouldn’t they spontaneously kiss?

But he wasn’t helping her any with a kiss like that. Let that be a warning to her.

Her New York Billionaire

Andrea Bolter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANDREA BOLTER has always been fascinated by matters of the heart. In fact, she’s the one her girlfriends turn to for advice with their love lives. A city mouse, she lives in Los Angeles with her husband and daughter. She loves travel, rock ’n’ roll, sitting at cafés and watching romantic comedies she’s already seen a hundred times. Say hi at andreabolter.com.

Her New York Billionaire is Andrea Bolter’s debut title for Mills & Boon Cherish.

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For Alex

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“WHY IS YOUR face blue?”

Holly froze in shock. She had just opened the door to the apartment she’d expected to find empty. But instead of flicking on the lights in a vacant living room she’d walked in on lamps already blazing. And a shirtless man sitting in the center of the sofa. Reading a newspaper. A gorgeous brown-haired shirtless man was reading a newspaper.

“Why is your face blue?” he repeated. Broad shoulders peeked out over the newspaper he was holding.

Why is your face blue? Holly heard the individual words but couldn’t put them together to understand them as a question. She could hardly get over the fact that there was a man in the apartment, let alone make sense of the sounds coming from his mouth.

She checked the keys in her hand. Perhaps she was somehow in the wrong place.

And then she saw.

Her hands were blue. Cobalt Blue Two Eleven, to be exact. She’d know that color anywhere. It was one of her favorites.

It suddenly made sense. Just a few minutes ago she’d ducked out of the rain and under the front awning of the building to rifle through her duffel bag for the piece of paper that confirmed the address. The duffel held paint tubes and brushes, paperwork, clothes and heaven knew what else. The cap must have come off her Cobalt Two Eleven.

And she must have touched her face with paint-covered hands.

“What are you doing here?” Holly asked the shirtless man.

“This apartment belongs to my company.”

He lowered his newspaper, folded it matter-of-factly and laid it beside him. Giving Holly a full view of his long, lean torso that led down to the plaid pajama bottoms covering the lower half of his body.

“What is it that you are doing here?”

The lump that had balled in Holly’s throat delayed her response. She hadn’t seen a half-naked man in a very long time. And she hadn’t seen a man who looked like he did while he was busy being half-naked in...well, possibly ever.

“I’m staying here,” she answered.

It had been a grueling journey, and the last thing she’d expected was to have to reckon with someone once she got here.

She blinked her eyes hard to pull herself together and tried not to panic. “I was told I could use this apartment.”

“That must have been a mistake.”

Mistake? What was this man talking about?

“I’ve just arrived from Florida. My brother, Vince, works in the Miami office of Benton Worldwide Properties. This is one of the apartments they keep for visitors to New York.”

“That is correct.”

“Vince arranged for me to stay here. He confirmed it last week. And he called again yesterday to Benton Boston headquarters.”

“I am Ethan Benton, Vice President of Benton Worldwide. As you can see from my...” he gestured down his chest “...state of undress, I am staying here at the moment.”

“Okay, well, I’m Holly Motta and I was counting on using this apartment. See?” She shook the blue-painted keys. “The Boston office left the keys in my name with the doorman downstairs.”

“I apologize for the mistake. I have just arrived tonight myself. In the morning I will look into who is responsible for this egregious error and have their head lopped off.”

The left corner of his mouth hitched up a bit.

Ethan Benton and his bare chest sat on a black leather sofa. Matching armchairs faced opposite, separated by a modern glass coffee table. The furnishings were spare. Two large framed photos were the only adornments on the wall. Both black and white, one was of a potted orchid and the other a maple tree.

Bland as a plain piece of toast. A typical corporate apartment, Holly guessed, having never been in one before. Elegant, yet all business. With no personal touches.

It was hardly the type of place where a beautiful shirtless man should be reading a newspaper. Not at all the kind of place where one brown curl of hair would fall in front of that man’s forehead as if it were no big deal. As if that wasn’t the most charming thing that a wet and exhausted young woman from Fort Pierce, Florida could imagine.

“Again, so sorry for the miscommunication,” said the man that curl belonged to, “but you are going to have to leave. I will have the doorman hail you a taxi.”

“Not so fast.”

Holly snapped out of her fascination with his hair. She stomped over to one of the chairs opposite the sofa. Keeping her blue hands in the air, so as not to get paint anywhere, she lowered herself down.

“If your corporate office didn’t have you scheduled to stay here, maybe it’s you who should leave.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up again—which was either cute or annoying. Holly wasn’t sure yet.

“Obviously I am not going to leave my company’s apartment.”

Holly couldn’t believe this was happening. This morning she had taken a bus from Fort Pierce to West Palm Beach airport. Then her flight to Newark, New Jersey had been delayed. When it had finally landed she’d taken another bus to the Port Authority terminal in Manhattan. It had been raining and dark by then, and there had hardly been a taxi to be had. She’d got drenched flagging one down. The cab brought her to this address on the Upper East Side.

And now—same as always, just when she was trying to do something for herself—someone else’s need was somehow one-upping hers.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I would suggest you go to a hotel.”

Hotels in New York were expensive. Holly had been saving money for months to make a go of it when she got here. She couldn’t use up any of her funds on a hotel stay.

“I can’t afford it.”

Ethan fixed a strangely searching stare on her.

While he assessed her Holly’s eyes followed his long fingers as they casually traced the taut muscles of his chest down and then back up again. Down. And up. Down. And up.

After seemingly giving it some thought, he reasoned, “You must know people in New York that you can stay with?”

“No. I don’t know anyone here. I came here to...”

Holly stopped herself. This man was a total stranger. She shouldn’t be telling him anything about her life. He didn’t need to know about her ex-husband, Ricky the Rat, her crazy mom, or any of it.

Maybe all that chaos was behind her now. Maybe the whole world was at her feet. Or maybe there were more hard times ahead.

Holly didn’t know. But she was going to find out.

Hard rain continued to pelt against the window.

An unwelcome tear dropped its way out of her eye. When she instinctively reached up to brush it away before Ethan noticed she found Cobalt Two Eleven was smeared on the back of her hand as well.

“Are you crying?” Ethan asked, as if he were observing a revolutionary scientific function.

“I’m not crying,” Holly denied. “It’s been a long day.”

“Perhaps you would like use the bathroom to wash up,” Ethan offered. He pointed behind him. “It is the door on the right.”

“Thank you.” Holly hoisted herself up without touching anything, and made her way past Ethan and his curl of hair. “By the way—I’m not leaving.”

Behind the sofa was a small dining table made of glass and steel like the coffee table. Four orange leather dining chairs provided a much-needed pop of color. Beyond that was a teeny kitchen.

Her brother had told her it was a very compact one-bedroom apartment. It would do quite fine. This was to be a temporary stepping stone for Holly. Either she was in New York to stay or it was merely a transition to somewhere else. Only time would tell.

She found her way into the marble-appointed bathroom and tapped the door closed with her boot. Made a mental commitment to also slam the door shut on her intense immediate attraction to Ethan Benton...astoundingly handsome, half-naked. Although it took her a stubborn minute to stop wondering what it might be like to lay her cheek against the firmness of one of those brawny shoulders.

Oh, no! She caught her reflection in the mirror above the sink. It was so much worse than she could have envisioned. She had Cobalt Two Eleven streaked across her face in horizontal stripes. Like a tribal warrior. Her black bangs were plastered to her forehead in sweaty points. She was a scary mess. What must this man think of her?

Not wanting to get anything dirty, she used her elbow to start the faucet. With both hands under the running water, she saw color begin swirling down the drain. She rubbed her hands together until enough paint was removed that she could adjust the tap to make the water hotter and pick up the pristine bar of white soap.

Eventually her hands were scoured clean—save for a little residual blue around the cuticles and under the nails. As usual. She reached for the fluffy towel hanging on the rack.

Next, Holly wanted to get her jacket off before she tackled washing her face. She unzipped the sleek and stylish black leather jacket she had bought at the shopping mall in Fort Pierce yesterday. With Florida’s mild climate, there hadn’t been a lot of selection, but she’d needed something warm for New York. When she’d seen it, she’d known it was the one for her.

Ricky the Rat would have hated it. He’d have said it was highfalutin’. Yeah, well, falute this! Decisions were going to be made by her, for her from now on. Not based on what other people wanted or thought.

After her face was scrubbed she towel-dried her bangs and peeled off her ponytail band. Fluffed out the dark hair that had grown far past her shoulders. With the longer hair, she realized she already had a new look. New hair. New jacket. New city. She was ready for a new life.

Giving a yank on her tee shirt and a tug on her jeans, she was more than a little concerned about how she’d look to Ethan when she went back into the living room. Which was, of course, completely ridiculous because she didn’t even know him.

* * *

My, my, but Holly Motta cleaned up well. Distracted by the blue paint on her face, Ethan hadn’t noticed the other blue. The crystal color of her eyes. How they played against her lush jet-black hair.

As soon as she returned from the bathroom a rush of energy swept through the living room. He didn’t know what kind of magic she held, but it wasn’t like anything he had been in the same space with before.

All he could mutter was, “Better?”

It wasn’t really a question.

He was glad he had nabbed a tee shirt from the bedroom, although he was still barefoot.

“Yes, thanks.” She slid past him to her luggage, still at the front door.

He reached for his computer tablet and tapped the screen. Best to get Holly out of the apartment right now. For starters, he had no idea who she was. Ethan knew firsthand that there were all sorts of liars and scammers in this world, no matter how innocent they might look. He had his family’s company to protect. The company that he was to run.

As soon as he could get his aunt Louise to retire.

As if a heart attack hadn’t been enough, his beloved aunt was now losing her balance and mobility due to a rare neurological disorder that caused lack of feeling in her feet. Benton Worldwide’s annual shareholders’ gala was this Saturday. Ethan hoped Aunt Louise didn’t have any bruises on her face from the fall he’d heard she’d taken last week.

Ethan owed everything to Aunt Louise and to Uncle Melvin, who had passed away five years ago. Without them he would just have been an abandoned child with no one to guide him toward a future.

His aunt had only one final request before she retired from the company that she, Uncle Mel and Ethan’s late father had spent fifty years growing into an empire. She wanted to be sure that Ethan was settled in all areas of his life. Then she’d feel that everything was in its right place before she stepped down and let him take over. One last component to the family plan.

Ethan had lied to his aunt by claiming that he’d found what she wanted him to have. But he hadn’t. So he had a lot to take care of in the next few days.

His temples pulsed as he thought about it all. Commotion was not an option. This exhilarating woman who had blown into the apartment needed to leave immediately. Not to mention the fact that there was something far too alluring about her that he had to get away from. Fast.

On top of it all he had a conference call in a few minutes that he still had to prepare for.

But with a few swipes across the tablet’s screen he confirmed that all the Benton properties in New York were occupied.

Holly slung her jacket on the coat rack by the door and sat down on the floor. After pulling off one, then the other, she tossed her boots to the side. Ethan was mesmerized by her arms as they rummaged through her bag. She seemed to be made up only of elongated loose limbs that bent freely in every direction. Lanky. Gangly, even.

Downright adorable.

Nothing about Holly was at all like the rigid, hoity-toity blondes he usually kept company with. Women who were all wrong for him. Since he wasn’t looking for someone right, that didn’t matter. It kept his aunt happy to see him dating. But, of course, now he had told Aunt Louise that was all coming to an end. And he had a plan as to how to cover that lie.

Under her boots, Holly was wearing one red sock and one striped. She rolled those off and wiggled her toes. “That feels good...” She sighed, as if to herself.

Ethan’s mouth quirked. “Miss Motta, please do not make yourself at home.”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Holly death-stared him right in the face, putting on her best tough guy act. In reality she looked terrified that he was going to throw her out. She’d already been in tears before she washed up.

“Can’t you be the one to leave?”

His stern expression melted a bit. What was he going to do? Toss her out into the cold rain?

She said she didn’t know anyone in New York that she could stay with. Funny, but he didn’t either. There were dozens—hundreds—of colleagues and workers in the city, connected with various Benton projects. Yet no one he’d call late on a rainy night to see if they had a sofa or guest room he could use.

Ridiculous. He’d sooner go back to the airport and sleep on his private jet.

He could pay for Holly’s hotel room. Or he supposed he himself could go to a hotel. But—good heavens. He’d been in flight all day, had already unpacked and undressed here. Why on earth should he leave his own property?

“I do not suppose it will do for either of us to try to find other accommodation at this late hour.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

Ethan always had a plan. His life was structured around plans. He was about to embark on his biggest yet—moving Aunt Louise into retirement and taking the CEO seat.

“We will both spend the night here.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’m sure you’re a very nice per—”

“I assure you, Miss Motta, I have no motive other than getting a peaceful night’s rest. You will sleep in the bedroom and I will make do out here.” He gestured toward the sofa.

“I need to think about that. That doesn’t seem right. Maybe I should call my brother. Let me just get my things straightened out.” Holly returned to her task of sorting out her duffel bag, quarantining paint-stained items in a plastic bag.

She didn’t look up at him until she lifted out a pair of white socks. They were splattered with the same blue that had been disguising her lovely face. “Occupational hazard.”

“You are a painter, I take it?”

“Yup.”

“And you have come to New York to pursue fame and fortune?”

“Ha! That would be nice. Who wouldn’t want their work to hang in a museum or a gallery here...?”

“I sense there is a but at the end of that.”

“I’ve been making money doing large pieces and collections for corporate properties.”

“Office art, lobby art, art for furnished apartments?”

Ethan was well aware of that kind of work. He’d spent many hours with interior designers making decisions about the art at Benton developments all over the world.

“Indeed, the right pieces are vitally important to a unified decor. They announce a mood.”

“A point of view,” Holly chimed in.

“It sets the tone.” He pointed at the two black and white nature photos on the wall. “Those, for example.”

“Dull.”

“Safe.”

“Yawn.”

They both laughed in agreement. A sizzle passed between them. It was so real Ethan was sure he saw smoke.

How alive Holly was. The type of person who said exactly what she thought. A bit like Aunt Louise. And nothing at all like most of the women he knew.

He flashed on a possibility.

Then quickly thought better of it.

“My aunt’s new husband selected this apartment. He frequently comes down from Boston.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. Fernando Layne was no favorite of his. Definitely no substitute for Uncle Mel. Fernando was a plaything for Aunt Louise. Ethan tolerated him.

“I will remodel this property while I am in New York. Perhaps you can advise me?”

What a stupid thing to say. He was never going see Holly again past this awkward evening interlude. An unfamiliar sense of disappointment came over him.

He generally steered clear of his feelings. When they did arrive they were usually of the painful variety and proved too confusing.

“Do you want to look at my website?” Holly gestured to the tablet he still had in his hand.

“I am sorry to be rude but I have a phone meeting in five minutes. I need to prepare.”

“At this time of night?”

“I am expecting a call from Tokyo, if you must know.” He also wasn’t used to explaining himself to anyone. “I will take it in the bedroom,” he declared.

Then he picked up a roll of architectural blueprints from the desk and marched down the hall, perturbed in twenty different ways.

* * *

Ten o’clock on a rainy New York night.

Holly had left Fort Pierce at eight that morning.

Hungry and tired, she absentmindedly ran her hand along the sofa where Ethan had been sitting when she came in. The leather still held his warmth.

She probably should have been afraid when she’d opened the door to find a total stranger in the apartment. Yet she hadn’t felt the slightest inkling of fear. She’d felt ticked off, maybe. Or something else entirely.

It might have something to do with the fact that Ethan Benton looked less like a serial killer than he did the lord of a countryside manor. With his imposing height and lean muscles and that stunning wavy brown hair that had a touch of red flecked in it.

His tone was bossy, but she supposed it must have been quite a shock for him that a woman with a blue face, a tattered duffel bag and a squeaky-wheeled suitcase had just barged into the apartment he’d thought he had to himself.

Now she was trapped here with him unless she was willing to face the stormy night. The man—who may or may not have a British accent—definitely had the most soulful eyes she had ever seen. The man who was now in the next room, conducting business halfway around the world.

New York was getting off to a rollicking start.

Would he be angry with her if she checked to see if there was anything to eat? Should she care, given that this apartment was supposed to be hers?

A rumbling stomach propelled her to the kitchen. She’d picked at snacks all day, but had not had a proper meal. On the counter lay one basket of fruit, and another of breads and bagels. The refrigerator held beer, milk, eggs and cheese.

Had this food been purchased for her arrival as a hospitality custom? Or was it Ethan’s? Or did it belong to his aunt’s husband, who Ethan had said used this apartment frequently?

The sight of the food rendered Holly too hungry to care. Being hungry was a unique ache that she had experience with. Surely Ethan wouldn’t mind if she took one shiny red apple.

She hoisted herself up to sit on the countertop. Let her legs and bare feet dangle. Smiled remembering the apple’s symbolism here in New York. Like so many others, she was here to take her bite. With one satisfying chomp after the next, her mind wandered about what might be.

“Miss Motta!” Ethan looked startled to find her sitting on the kitchen counter after he finished his call. “Must you always make yourself so...so comfortable?”

Holly shrugged her shoulders and slid off the countertop. Whatever. If her sitting on the counter was a big deal to him, she wouldn’t do it.

She jutted out her chin. “I bet you haven’t eaten.”

“Not since early this afternoon on the flight,” he confessed. “Is there food?”

“Looks like there’s eggs and some things for breakfast.”

“We will have something delivered.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“What would you like?”

“You know what? I haven’t been to New York in years. Want to get some famous New York pizza?”

“Pizza it is.” He swiped on his tablet. “Yes, Giuseppe’s. I ordered from there quite a bit when I was last in New York, working on a project. What type of pizza do you like?”

It was nice of him to let her choose. This man was a bundle of contradictions. Scolding one minute, courteous in the next.

“Everything,” she answered, without having to think twice.

“Everything?”

“You know—pepperoni, sausage, salami, mushrooms, onions, peppers, olives. The whole shebang.”

“Everything...” he repeated. “Why not?”

“I’ll pay for my half.”

His mouth twitched.

“Twenty minutes,” he read out the online confirmation.

She eyed the kitchen clock.

“I guess I’m staying tonight.” She crunched on her big apple.

A bolt of lightning struck, flashing bright light through the window.

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN HAD A peculiar urge. The minute he’d said he’d sleep on the sofa tonight he’d wanted to lie down on the bed with Holly. Not to get under the covers. Just to lie on the bed with her. He wanted to relax. To hold her body against his. Caress her hair. Find out if those ebony locks were as silky as they looked.

Huh. A woman he had never met before, who had charged into his apartment and refused to leave. He had no idea who she really was or what she was doing here.

Yet he wanted to hold her.

The thought had interrupted his phone call several times.

He wasn’t going mad. He’d just been working too hard. That was it. It had already been a long evening.

From the moment his flight had landed it had been one thing or another. He’d managed to sort out some of the details for the shareholders’ gala. Many more remained. He’d heard there were construction delays on the low-income housing development in the Bronx that was so dear to his heart. He’d talked to a few people at the Boston headquarters to see how Aunt Louise was doing after the fall she’d taken. The news was not good. Then he’d worked on trying to resolve problems with a building permit in Detroit.

It had only been about an hour ago that Ethan had changed into pajama bottoms and quieted down to read the newspaper. Before Holly had arrived, with the sparkling blue eyes and the creamy skin he now couldn’t take his gaze off.

“While we’re waiting for the pizza would it be okay if I took a shower?” she asked.

It would be okay if I took it with you.

Ethan surprised himself with the thought he didn’t voice. He settled for, “Go right ahead.”

Ethan did not like the way warmth resonated from Holly’s body when she passed by him en route to the shower. Did not like it a bit because it stirred sensations low within him. Fierce sensations. Urgent.

The bathroom door shut with the quick smack that only happened when you closed it with a foot. Did she always shut doors with her feet?

His tongue flicked at his upper lip when he heard the sound of the shower. He couldn’t help but imagine which article of clothing Holly was removing first. What each long limb might look like uncovered. Her torso was straight, rather than especially curvy, and he envisioned the smooth plain of her back. When he started to imagine what her... Well, he begged his brain to move to a different topic. No easy task.

Normally Ethan maintained a controlled world, without surprises. A world that allowed him to keep the upper hand. Maneuver as he saw fit. Because he was usually right.

Mushroom pizza, for heaven’s sake.

A thirty-four-year-old man knew his own ways. Protected his orbit. Holly seemed to tip the universe off-kilter. Made the earth spin off its axis.

He preferred his pizza with only mushrooms on it!

She had to be stopped.

Yet he hadn’t the heart to force her out on the street—especially given the time of night. He didn’t doubt that she was capable of fending for herself. But he didn’t want her to.

That insane idea glimmered again. He needed to get it out of his head.

Ethan had too much to think about already. He was in a bind. Aunt Louise needed to retire. She’d had a distinguished career, and Ethan wanted her to go out on top. Concern was growing that she would sustain a fall in public. That word would spread. That people might remember her as a woman who had stayed on past her prime. That she was doddering, weak, bruised... All things that Louise Benton was most certainly not.

His aunt and his Uncle Melvin—his father’s brother—had taken Ethan in as their own when he was nine years old. Now the time had come for the roles to be reversed. Ethan needed to make sure his decisions were in his aunt’s best interests. His father would have told him to. Uncle Mel would have counted on him. It was the very least he could do.

But Aunt Louise had that one condition before she stepped down and moved from frigid Boston to the sunny compound in Barbados they’d had built for just that purpose. She wanted to know that Ethan would run their global business with a stable home life as a foundation.

Even though she and Uncle Mel hadn’t been able to have children of their own, they’d experienced the joys and the heartaches of parenting through Ethan. In turn, his aunt wanted him to know the profound love of a parent for a child. And the united love and partnership that only came with decades of a shared life.

Aunt Louise would retire once Ethan was engaged to be married.

And because he’d become so alarmed about his aunt’s escalating health problems, and his responsibility to guard her reputation, Ethan had lied to her.

“You always say that deep down in your gut you know when something is right,” Ethan had said, twisting his aunt’s advice when he’d given her the news that he had met the soul mate he would wed.

Trouble was, Ethan had no such fiancée. Nor would he ever.

That was why he’d come to back to the States a few days ahead of the shareholders’ gala. Tomorrow he was having lunch with the woman he planned to marry. In name only, of course.

He’d found a beautiful actress who’d be a suitable bride-to-be. This was New York, after all. There was hardly a better place to find a performer capable of pulling off this charade. He clicked on his tablet to the talent agency website where he’d located Penelope Perkins, an educated and sophisticated blonde with a stately neck.

It was a simple matter, really, in Ethan’s mind. He’d chosen the actress and scheduled a meeting with her under the guise of hiring her for a promotional campaign for his company. If he found her to be acceptable and unencumbered he’d have her thoroughly investigated by Benton Worldwide’s Head of Security, Chip Foley.

While Chip was completing a background check and every other kind of probe there was, Ethan and his stand-in fiancée would get to know each other and create a history for their relationship. Their engagement would be announced at the gala.

Penelope would also sign numerous non-disclosure and confidentiality agreements. She’d understand that if she were ever to reveal the arrangement she would be sued. Benton lawyers played hardball. They never lost their cases.

For her services, this performer would be paid generously.

It was a solid plan.

* * *

“Clean at last.” Holly emerged from the bathroom while towel-drying her hair. A fresh tee shirt and sweatpants made her feel cozy after the day’s journey. “Traveling makes you so grimy, you know?”

“Yes. I showered on the plane before arrival,” Ethan agreed.

“You showered on the plane? How does someone shower on a plane?”

“I have a corporate jet. It does have a number of creature comforts.”

Holly whistled. Highfalutin’. “I haven’t flown that many times in my life. I’m still excited to get free soda and peanuts.”

“Yes, well...perhaps you would enjoy all the amenities on private planes.”

She tilted her head to one side and squeezed a little more moisture from the tips of her hair onto the plush towel. Sure, she’d like to be on a private plane, with a shower and enough room for her legs not to feel cramped into a ninety-degree position the entire flight. But that wasn’t something that was ever going to happen, so she didn’t see any point in discussing it.

“You have a little bit of an accent. And a kind of formal way of talking.” Holly had a sometimes bad habit of blurting aloud everything that came into her mind. She called ’em as she saw ’em. “Are you American, or what?”

That left side of his mouth quivered up again in the start of a smile. “Boston-born. Oxford-educated. I would be the complete cliché of an entitled rich boy save for the fact that my father died when I was nine and I was raised by my aunt and uncle.”

“What about your mother?”

The landline phone on the desk rang. Ethan turned to answer it. “Thank you. Please send him up.” He headed toward the door. “Our pizza is here.”

With his back to her, Holly was able to take in the full height of his slim, hard build. Probably about six foot three. Much taller than she was, and she always felt like a giant rag doll.

Ethan moved with effortless authority and confidence. Of course this was a man who showered on planes. This was a man who had been born to shower on planes.

Speaking of showers...it had been weird to shower in the apartment with him there. She knew there was no way he was an axe murderer who was going to hack her to bits. But she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that he was a gentleman who wasn’t going to come into the bathroom while she was undressed.

A devilish thrill shot through her at the thought that he might have.

Attraction to a man during her first evening in New York was not on her itinerary. Especially not a man who had put all her plans in jeopardy.

She’d just have to make it through the night. In the morning her brother would help straighten things out about the apartment.

Staying here for a few weeks was meant to be the leg-up that she desperately needed. It would buy her time to find work and decide whether New York was where she should be. It had been two years since she’d kicked out Ricky the Rat. Two years was enough time to move on and move forward.

It was her brother, Vince, who had finally convinced her to take a chance. To take a risk. To take something for her own.

Maybe someday a man would fit into the picture. Not any time soon. She needed to concentrate on herself.

“Join me.” Ethan gestured for her to come sit on the sofa after the delivery. He laid the pizza down on the coffee table, then dashed into the kitchen, returning with two plates, a stack of napkins and two bottles. “Will you have a beer?”

She took one from him and popped the cap with a satisfying twist.

As they sat down beside each other Holly winced involuntarily and moved away a bit. Being close to him felt scary. Strange. Strangely great...

He noticed her sudden stiffness. “I do not bite.”

Pity. She held back a laugh. It wasn’t fear that he’d bite that was bothering her. It might have been fear that he wouldn’t.

Ethan flipped open the box and a meaty, cheesy, tomatoey aroma wafted up to their noses.

“I do not believe I have ever seen a pizza with this many ingredients on it.”

As if performing a delicate procedure, he used two hands to lift one hefty slice onto a plate and handed it to Holly. Then he served himself.

“Ah...”

They groaned in unison as the first bites slid down their tongues. Unable even to speak, they each quickly devoured their slices.

Holly was the first to reach for a second. Then she sat back on the sofa and put her bare feet up on the coffee table.

“‘Everything’ is now officially my favorite pizza topping,” Ethan confirmed, after taking another slice.

Observing Holly stretched out and seemingly comfortable, he did the same. His leaned back against the sofa. Tentatively he extended one leg and then the other onto the coffee table, and crossed them just as Holly had hers.

And there they sat, both barefoot, eating pizza, as if they had known each other for eons rather than minutes.

She thought of something to ask. “Where did you fly in from?”

“Dubai. Before that I was in Stockholm. I have been out of the country for a month.”

“Where do you live?”

“I keep a small apartment in Boston, near our headquarters. Although I travel most of the time.”

“Your company has properties all over the world?”

He nodded and washed down his pizza with a sip of beer. “Yes. Some we build. Some we buy and refurbish. In the last couple of years I have been spending a lot of my time on affordable housing for low-income buyers.”

“Vince told me about the development you built in Overtown. He said he was so proud to have been part of a project helping people in one of Miami’s neediest areas.”

That left side of Ethan’s mouth rose up again, but this time it continued until the right side lifted to join it in one full-on heart-melting smile.

Holly almost choked on her pizza. She thought a person might enjoy looking at that smile for the rest of her life.

“After my aunt retires I plan to turn most of Benton’s focus toward housing for homeless or low-income families.”

“When will she retire?”

Ethan sized Holly up in a gaze that went from the tip of her head down to her toes. As if he were taking her all in. Measuring her for something.

When she couldn’t stand the moment any longer she reached for another piece of pizza and pressed, “Does your aunt want to retire?”

Holly watched his concentration return to the conversation at hand.

“I think she must, whether she wants to or not. She has peripheral neuropathy. It is a rare inherited condition. She’s starting to lose some of her faculties.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. She is a wonderful woman.”

“She’s lucky to have you looking out for her wellbeing.” Holly didn’t think anyone would ever care about her that much.

“I would like to see her relaxing in Barbados. Swimming in warm waters and enjoying her silly trophy husband.”

“But she doesn’t see it that way?”

“She has a stipulation that she is insistent on before she retires, the details of which have not been worked out yet.” Ethan reached for his beer. “So, tell me, Miss Holly Motta, you have come to New York completely on your own?”

What did his aunt want? Was there a family secret?

Holly was dying to know. In fact she wanted to know about all of Ethan’s joys and triumphs and struggles and defeats. Wanted to tell him all of hers. Though she couldn’t fathom why.

Even if she had been open to meeting the right man—a man with whom she would share the deepest, darkest nooks and crannies of her life—it wouldn’t be a man who showered on airplanes.

A man like Ethan Benton had no business with a girl who had grown up in a trailer park in Fort Pierce. Never going to happen. And she wasn’t looking for someone, anyway. This was her time.

She chewed her pizza, suddenly agitated by the way Ethan continued to examine her, as if she was an object he was considering purchasing.

“I have to say I cannot remember the last time I was with a woman who ate half a pizza in one sitting.”

“Of course not. You probably only keep company with women who eat one green bean and then tell you how full they are.”

That crooked grin broke into a hearty belly laugh. “You are absolutely right. If they eat anything at all. You are definitely not like the women I tend to meet.”

“Should I consider that a compliment?”

“Please tell me why you have come to New York alone.”

“Who would I have come with if not alone? I haven’t seen my mother in years. My brother, Vince, is doing well in Miami. I have no other ties.”

She’d grown up strategizing and compensating for her unreliable mother. Looking out for Vince. Then working around Ricky’s bad behavior. Juggling two or three jobs. Keeping the house clean. Making sure people were fed. Paying bills. Always being the responsible one. Day after day. Year after year.

“I’m through with being cautious.” She couldn’t believe she was blathering this out to a man she’d only just met. “Yes, I came to New York alone. No job. No permanent place to live. I don’t even know if here’s where I belong. That’s why I was going to stay in this apartment for a while—to figure it out. I’m sure it all sounds insane to you.”

“How it sounds is brave.”

* * *

Ethan furrowed his brow. A minute ago Holly had confided that she wasn’t in contact with her mother. No mention of a father. He sensed there was plenty more that she hadn’t said. That she’d been through more than her share of trouble and strife. Although it might be a made-up story meant to evoke sympathy from him to let her stay in the apartment.

Every previous experience he’d had with women other than Aunt Louise had led him to believe that they were never what they seemed.

Starting with his own mother.

Do not trust trust. It was a lesson he’d learned decades ago.

That was why he’d devised this scheme to set up a fake relationship, so that Aunt Louise would think she had gotten her wish. She would retire with her mind at ease and her attention on her health.

An imitation fiancée would suit him perfectly. The women he’d known before had always wanted something from him. With this arrangement he’d dreamt up everyone would get what they were after. Clean and upfront, with clear expectations and no disappointment.

After he and Holly had finished eating she retrieved a pad and pencils from her luggage and sat herself in the window, with its second-floor view out onto the street. She turned sideways, somehow wedging her long legs into the windowsill, and propped her sketchpad on her knees.

“You are welcome to pull a chair over,” Ethan tossed out, not in the habit of contorting himself to fit into small spaces.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Unsure what to do with himself, he picked up his tablet to check emails. If he’d been there alone, as planned, he would have gone to bed. It was going to be a busy week.

He could ask Holly to take her things into the bedroom. Then he could turn off the lights, try to get comfortable on the sofa and hope to fall asleep.

Yet it was so unusual for him to be in an apartment with someone he craved her company and wanted to prolong it. He wasn’t ready for her to retreat to separate quarters.

How crazy was the idea that kept popping into his mind?

As Holly drew, he began telling her more about Aunt Louise. About the cruel medical condition that was taking away pieces of her.

“How did your family’s company get started?” she asked, while working on her drawing.

“With nothing. When my father and Uncle Mel were in their twenties they saved their money from doing carpentry work until they had enough to buy the South Boston apartment they grew up in. Then they bought the whole building. And then the one next to it.”

“That takes focus and determination. Hmm...” She shook her head.

“Hmm—what?”

She kept her eyes on her pad. “It’s just that nobody I’ve ever known has done anything like that.”

“After my uncle married Louise, she helped them grow the business. My father died twenty-five years ago. Then Aunt Louise took over as CEO when Uncle Mel died five years ago.”

Ethan had only vague memories of his father. But he so missed the uncle who had become a second father to him. Melvin Benton had been a smart leader. A just and fair man.

“Uncle Mel would have agreed that it is time for Aunt Louise to step down. Before industry gossip sullies her reputation as the competent successor to his legacy that she was.”

“What is it that your aunt wants you to do before she’ll agree to retire?”

Oh, so Holly had been paying close attention earlier, when he’d started to tell her about Aunt Louise’s request and then stopped himself.

“She wants to see me established in my personal life. For me to have what she and Uncle Mel had. She is waiting for me to be engaged to be married.”

“And now you are?”

“So to speak...”

“There’s no ‘so to speak.’ You’re either engaged or you’re not.”

“Not necessarily.”

Why had he started this? He’d revealed more than he should have.

“Tell me,” she persisted, without looking up.

“I would rather talk about you. You have come to New York with no work here at all? This city can be a very tough place.”

“I know. But I do have some people to contact. You’re probably thinking my coming to New York was a really reckless bet. But if I didn’t do it now I never would have.”

When Ethan glanced down to the inbox on his tablet his eyes opened wide at the latest email. It was the talent agency, apologizing for contacting him so late in the evening and asking for the duration of his booking for Penelope Perkins, his soon-to-be “fiancée.” Because, the representative explained, Mrs. Perkins had just informed them of her pregnancy. She expected to be available for a few months but, after that her altered appearance might be an issue for any long-term acting assignment.

Good heavens. Yes, Mrs. Perkins’s blossoming pregnancy was going to be an issue! That would be too much to disguise from Aunt Louise. First an engagement and then a pregnancy right away? Not to mention the fact that Penelope was apparently Mrs. Perkins. And a certain Mr. Perkins was be unlikely to be agreeable to such an arrangement.

The veins in Ethan’s neck pulsed with frustration. As if he didn’t have enough to do! Now the engagement plan he’d worked so hard to devise was in jeopardy. Could he choose someone else and get an appointment with her in time? He quickly tabbed through the photos of the other actresses on the website. They were all of a suitable age. Any one of them might do.

Then he glanced up to lovely Holly, sketching in the windowsill.

What if...?

He’d been exchanging pleasant conversation with Holly all evening. Why not her? It might work out quite nicely. Perhaps they could have an easy, friendly business partnership based on mutual need. He had a lot he could offer her.

Of course the fact that he found her so interesting was probably not a plus. It might add complication. But who was to say that he wouldn’t have been attracted to Penelope Perkins, or some other actress he’d chosen?

A sense of chemistry would be palpable to Aunt Louise and anyone else they would encounter. It would make them believable as a couple. And he certainly wouldn’t be acting on any impulses. It wasn’t as if he was open to a genuine relationship.

A fake fiancée was all he was looking for. Holly was as good a bet as any.

He gazed at her unnoticed for a moment. She turned to a new page on her sketchpad. Then, when she asked him again about whether or not he was engaged, he finally told her the truth.

He picked up the beer he had been drinking with the pizza. Carefully peeling off the label that circled the neck of the bottle, he rolled it into a ring. And then stepped over to Holly in front of the window. Where anyone in New York could be walking by and might look up to see them.

“I was intending to hire an actress,” he explained. “But I think Aunt Louise would like you. You remind me of her. There is something very...real about you.”

He got down on one knee. Held up the beer label ring in the palm of his hand.

She gasped.

“Holly, I do not suppose you would... If you might consider... Would you, please? Can you pretend to marry me?”

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