Rent a Millionaire Groom
Judy Christenberry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers. Judy quit teaching French recently and devoted her time to writing. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy’s a native Texan, but now lives in Arizona.

When three best friends need advice on finding that perfect love match they turn to the wisest relationship book around…

2001 WAYS TO WED

You’ve probably dreamed about your wedding since you were a girl. Was your someday wedding a lavish event fit for a princess, or an intimate, candlelit ceremony at a town-square church? You likely imagined a dress to die for and a ring with endless glitter. What song would mark your first dance as man and wife?

Back then, the wedding was of more interest than the groom. Boys were…well…icky. As a woman, your feelings about the opposite sex have come a long way from “icky”—you like men! So much, in fact, that you’d like to spend your life with one.

This book offers rock-solid advice about getting on the path to a happy marriage. First, you’ve got to stop treating the dating scene like a grab bag, taking the first “prize” you get your hands on. You’re a beautiful, talented, giving woman—and there’s an equally wonderful man out there for you. And with 2001 WAYS TO WED, you’re sure to find—and marry—him!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Prologue

Elise Foster paused outside the front window of The Prickly Pear, spotting her two best friends through the plate glass.

The three of them were so different. Phoebe was a tall, beautiful blonde, the kind of woman men noticed. Not that they could ignore Daisy, with her auburn hair and vibrant smile. Elise considered herself to be average in looks compared to the other two, but tonight she had the answer to their problem.

With a pleased smile, she swung open the door and entered their favorite meeting place, a café and bar near Mesa Blue, the condominium complex where they all lived. “Sorry I’m late,” she said by way of a greeting.

“No problem,” Phoebe said with a grin. “We’ve been looking for potential candidates.”

“And?” Elise asked, wondering if her solution might not be needed.

Daisy didn’t smile. “Nothing. No one.”

“Daisy, maybe you’re being too…too choosey,” Phoebe said gently. “You know, there really aren’t any Prince Charmings out there. Just ordinary guys.”

Daisy stared her friend down. “Maybe not, but he should at least make me want—want him.”

“She’s got you there,” Elise agreed. Her friend had recently visited her doctor. After suffering from endometriosis for years, Daisy had to get pregnant in the very near future if she was ever to have a child. And she desperately wanted a baby.

That’s why Phoebe and Elise were trying to help her, in spite of their own reluctance to march down the aisle. So far they’d had no luck.

Elise put a package on the table. “I have a solution.”

Her friends stared at the small shopping bag and then at her.

Daisy leaned forward. “I had someone a little taller in mind, Elise.”

Elise grinned in return. “That’s the solution to finding the man, silly, not the man himself.”

“Whew, that’s a relief,” Phoebe said with a chuckle. “I thought maybe you’d found a store named Daddys Are Us, or something.”

“I wish I had. It would make things easier. No, I stopped by the bookstore on the way here.”

Her friends rolled their eyes.

“Like that’s unusual,” Phoebe muttered.

Ignoring them, Elise pulled a book from the bag. “Ta-da!”

Both women leaned closer, staring at the title, 2001 WAYS TO WED.

“You’re kidding, right?” Phoebe demanded. “You bought one of those books that tells you never to go out without your makeup? To learn how to cook gourmet meals and always agree with whatever he says?”

“No, this book is different. It’s—it’s sensible.”

Daisy pulled the book from Elise’s grasp and opened it.

“Well?” Phoebe asked as she leaned over to look, too.

“It does seem to be practical. It says to smile a lot. To be positive. To think good thoughts about yourself.” Daisy chewed on her bottom lip as she studied the words.

Elise noticed several men with their attention fixed on Daisy, clearly intrigued by her. That was why the entire campaign seemed ridiculous. Men wanted Daisy, but so far Daisy hadn’t come up with a man she wanted.

Phoebe had suggested she and Elise help by introducing any men they knew. Unfortunately, Elise didn’t know many men. She’d sworn off them a long time ago. And the only man in the Foreign Language Department at Arizona State University where she taught was Herr Gutenberg. At 5 foot 6 inches, with no hair, the 60-year-old wasn’t the man for Daisy.

Their favorite waiter, George, arrived at the table. “Hey, Elise, what can I bring you?”

“A diet cola, George. I’ve got to keep a clear mind tonight.” That was a running joke, since Elise always ordered a diet cola.

“Aha, big doin’s this evening?”

“Yep. We’re on a search.”

George, assuming she was joking, said, “Well, if you find the meaning of life, let me know.” Then he took their orders and headed for the kitchen.

When they were alone once more, Elise said, “We’ll all three study this book. Surely, then, we’ll be able to find the perfect candidate for Daisy.”

“And maybe for both of you, too,” Daisy added, a hopeful smile on her face.

“No, thank you,” Phoebe and Elise said together.

They both laughed. Then Phoebe added, “Some people aren’t meant to be married, sweetie. I’m one of those.”

“And I have my career to think of, you know,” Elise added. “No, we’ll help you, but we’re not interested in husbands.”

Chapter One

Elise Foster hung up the phone and ran a hand frustratedly through her hair. Her mother was going to drive her crazy. As the eldest of seven sisters, Elise had lived through five weddings featuring her sisters. Now Sharon, the baby, was getting married.

Her mother was concerned about Elise’s old-maid status. And she’d urged her other daughters to talk to Elise about her solitary state, also. It seemed at least one of them called every day.

The situation hadn’t been helped when she received a wedding invitation in the mail yesterday from her ex-fiancé.

Their engagement had ended twelve years ago, at the end of Elise’s senior year in college. She’d discovered Richard wasn’t interested in her, just in a good hostess for his blossoming career. She, of course, wasn’t expected to have a career. It might interfere with his.

Even the fact that this was his second wedding didn’t settle her stomach. Nor did the fact that she didn’t want a husband.

But she wanted a fiancé badly.

That thought had been running around her mind for several days. A fiancé—temporary, of course—would get her sisters and her mother off her back. And she wouldn’t feel she had to justify choosing to be alone every time she was introduced to someone new at her sister’s wedding.

If she had a best friend, a hunk, hanging around, she’d ask him to do her a favor and pretend for a few days that he couldn’t live without her.

But all her friends were female.

With a sigh she settled back in her chair. Her gaze lit on the book she’d bought, 2001 WAYS TO WED. If she were searching for a real husband…but she wasn’t. She had kept the book, however, to study it before she passed it over to Phoebe.

Maybe she should “hire” a fiancé. But that would mean going to an escort service. She’d heard those places were…distasteful. Besides, she wanted someone who would draw envy from her sisters. She wanted Prince Charming.

She picked up the book and idly flipped through it. She’d already read it several times. Then, suddenly, she sat upright in her chair. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

The chapter entitled “Don’t Forget Your Neighbors” had given her an idea. She didn’t have any neighbors at home who would do. But at work, that was another matter. ASU had an excellent Drama Department. She could hire a starving actor to be her fiancé.

She hurried from her office. One of her fellow professors, Dr. Grable, had worked with the Drama Department last semester when they’d been producing one of Molière’s plays. Maybe she could recommend someone.

Several hours later, after teaching her two o’clock class and delicately questioning Cecille Grable, Elise took a deep breath and headed for the Drama Department.

Cecille’s response kept playing in her mind. “Well, if you’re looking for what the young ladies today call a hunk, I’d recommend Bobby Dillon. He’s a teaching assistant, a little older than the college students, but he grabs the eye. If one is interested in such things.” Cecille, nearing retirement age, had a twinkle in her eye that told Elise even she was still interested in such things.

Elise opened the door to the semi-dark auditorium and slid into the last row of seats, hoping her eyes would adjust quickly to the dim light. On stage, a number of students were going through their lines.

How was she going to identify the young man? And heavens, she hoped he didn’t look too young. There were several handsome young men on stage, but—

“Repeat that line. I couldn’t hear it at all.”

The deep, silky voice that gave the command came from the center of the auditorium. Elise hadn’t noticed the man slumped down in his chair.

The voice alone made him perfect for her needs. He could read the telephone directory and she’d be enthralled. No wonder he was in the Drama Department. He had a great future ahead of him.

Of course, she also hoped he was handsome. But Cecille had said—

The house lights came up and the man stood. Tall, broad-shouldered, trim. So far so good. Elise quickly rose and hurried down the aisle, determined to catch him before he moved to the stage and they had an audience.

“Mr. Dillon?” she called softly.

He’d just reached the end of the row of seats and he spun around, as if startled. With a frown, he replied, “Yes?”

“May I have a word with you?”

He didn’t look any too happy, so she quickly added, “It’s about a job.”

He stared at her, and she felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t used to such concentrated interest. He began, “The normal channels—”

“It’s—it’s personal. I mean, I don’t need you to appear on stage, but—it’s rather difficult to explain. I’ll be glad to buy you a cup of coffee while I try to make it clear. I haven’t figured out how much to offer you, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

His surprise didn’t make sense, unless it was caused by his pride. “Why, yes. Please don’t be embarrassed. I understand acting jobs aren’t too plentiful unless you’re in Hollywood.” He continued to stare at her. “You are Bobby Dillon, aren’t you?”

His eyes seemed to widen. Then, after a quick look over his shoulder, he said, “Yes, that’s me. I’m—I’m Bobby Dillon.”

And Cecille had been right. He was perfect. “If you don’t want to go to the Student Union, there’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks over. Shall I meet you there in—” she paused to look at her watch “—fifteen minutes?”

“All right,” he agreed.

She stuck out her hand to seal the agreement, almost afraid he wouldn’t show. “I’ll see you there.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

She could feel his gaze on her as she walked out of the auditorium, and for the first time in her life she wished she had Phoebe’s knockout looks.

She wasn’t much of a match for the Prince Charming she’d just found.

JAMES DILLON STARED at the young woman walking away. Her neat figure would attract almost any man, but it was the anxious expression in her green eyes that had caught his attention.

That and the offer of a job.

He chuckled, a sound not often heard of late. There hadn’t been a lot to laugh about. Which explained why he was hanging out on campus, visiting his brother, the apparently famous Bobby Dillon.

“Who was that?” Bobby asked, coming up behind him.

“I’m not sure.”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, thanks for helping me out. I was pretty sure Sandy wasn’t projecting, but I needed to be on stage to keep the pace going.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” James was barely following Bobby’s words. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. She wasn’t a student—not dressed in that suit. Her light brown hair had been pulled back with a clasp, small gold earrings on her ears. Nothing flashy, suggestive or even inviting.

The opposite of Sylvia, his ex-wife, thank God.

“So, I’ll see you later?” Bobby asked, turning back toward the stage. “Or you’re welcome to hang around for the next class, if you want.”

“Uh, no, thanks, I’ve got—got some things to do. See you later.”

Bobby called an agreement over his shoulder, leaving James free to concentrate on the mystery woman.

Her request had seemed really important to her. Of course, he knew it was unfair to let her think he was Bobby. After he heard her offer, he’d probably have to confess his lie. But just for a while, for an hour, he could be someone other than James Dillon, wealthy businessman, pursued by women all over Arizona.

Lately, being James Dillon hadn’t been much fun.

So dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, a short-sleeved knit shirt with the shirttail hanging out, he’d come to see Bobby.

He checked his watch. He’d have to hurry to make the fifteen-minute deadline. And it suddenly seemed important to find out exactly what Miss Green Eyes wanted.

Because he was a sucker for green eyes.

ELISE HAD GONE straight to the coffee shop, needing time to pull herself together and go over her proposal. The man was perfect, and she didn’t want to mess things up. Now that she’d seen him, the half-baked plan had become a necessity.

Her sisters would die. He was handsome, as Cecille had said—but there was more. He carried an air of authority that commanded attention. Her thoughts flew to her ex-fiancé, Richard. He’d be apoplectic with jealousy.

That thought pleased her, even as she acknowledged its pettiness. Why Bobby hadn’t been discovered professionally yet, she didn’t know. But she could predict a brilliant future for him in Hollywood.

Something caused her to look up, and she almost forgot to breathe. He stood by the table, waiting for her to invite him to join her. “Oh, hi!” she said, realizing she sounded as breathy and enthralled as a freshman girl talking to the senior football star.

She cleared her throat. “Won’t you sit down?”

That was better, more professional.

He smiled, and she had to take another deep breath. She figured his value just doubled.

“Thanks. You know me, but I haven’t met you before, have I? What’s your name?”

Her cheeks flamed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was intent on getting you to listen to me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Elise Foster, French professor at the school.”

“I’m delighted to meet you.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” she said, letting out her pent-up breath. He looked older and somehow more sophisticated than the college students. But he was a teaching assistant, she remembered, so he had to be in advanced graduate studies.

He frowned, and she wondered what she’d said wrong.

“Would you mind calling me James? Bobby is a stage name. Unless I need it for the job you’re offering.”

“Of course, James. I mean, it won’t be necessary if you— Yes, that’s fine.”

The waitress appeared beside the table, distracting them. Elise ordered a diet cola, but James opted for coffee.

“Do you want anything to eat? A piece of pie, French fries, a hamburger?” she offered. After all, actors were notoriously broke. Maybe he hadn’t eaten in a while.

“No thanks, just coffee.”

As soon as the waitress left, he leaned forward, loosely clasping his hands together on the table.

She loved his hands. Well-tended, the fingers were long but strong, powerful. She also noticed he wore no wedding ring. She hadn’t even thought to ask about that.

“You’re not married, are you?” she asked hurriedly.

One dark eyebrow rose over clear blue eyes. “This…offer is getting more interesting by the minute.”

She blushed again. “No! I didn’t mean— It might complicate things if— Never mind.”

“No, I’m not married.”

“Oh, good.” At least he hadn’t run out of the coffee shop in horror. She wasn’t managing to sound as in control as she’d planned, but he was still here.

“Why does it matter?”

“Well, I told you the job was—was personal. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I need an escort.”

That fascinating brow rose again. “I can’t believe you have difficulty finding an escort, Dr. Foster.”

“Um, make it Elise. It’s not— I don’t date much.”

“Your choice, I’m sure.”

That was flattering, but considering all the weeks they’d worked trying to find a man for Daisy, she wasn’t sure it was accurate. The thought of Daisy made her feel guilty. Should she introduce her friend to Bobby—James? No, an actor wasn’t in a stable job situation. That wouldn’t do at all for a prospective father.

That rationalization made her feel much better.

“Are we talking about a class reunion?” he guessed. “I’ve heard of people taking pretend partners to those things to impress their classmates.”

He was taking everything very well, but Elise hated the conversation. She would never do that, lie to impress someone. That had been Richard’s standard M.O.

But that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? a small voice inside her asked. No, I’m lying to get some peace from my family. She needed to make sure that James understood that.

“It’s not a reunion.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “You see, I come from a large family.”

“Lucky you.”

She blinked, surprised by his response. “Don’t you have brothers and sisters?”

“One brother. But there’s eleven years difference between us, so it was almost like being an only child.”

“Oh. Well, I guess there are advantages to a large family, though some days it’s hard to remember them.”

He smiled again, and she figured he’d make his fortune on the basis of his smile alone. Or his eyes. His Paul Newman blue eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

“Um, yes, well, I have six sisters and one brother.”

“So there are eight of you. That’s quite a large family these days.”

She felt as if she was babbling, and she’d had everything planned out so rationally. “Yes,” she agreed, and clamped her mouth shut.

That eyebrow again. He looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Sharon, my baby sister, is getting married soon.”

“The youngest? How old is she?”

“Twenty-two. She finished college in December.”

He frowned, and she caught her breath. “You and your sisters must’ve been born close together because you don’t look much older.”

He was good with the flattery. She supposed it must be his stock-in-trade. “I’m thirty-three. My brother is older.”

“And you already have your doctorate? I’m impressed. Did you study in France?”

“Yes, at the— Never mind,” she hurriedly said. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get distracted and never tell him what she really wanted.

“You want to stick to the subject?” he asked, smiling again, a twinkle in his eye.

With a sigh, she said, “Yes, please. This is difficult enough as it is.”

“To ask me to escort you to your sister’s wedding? That’s not asking much. I’ll be glad to take you.”

Elise seriously considered accepting his offer. Then she could tell him just before the wedding that she actually needed him to appear to be more than just her date—but that would be wrong.

With another sigh, she said, “Thank you, but that’s not exactly what I’m asking.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m asking you to be my fiancé.”

Chapter Two

He couldn’t believe it.

He’d been suckered in, like an inexperienced teenager.

Damn it, he was thirty-six. He’d been chased by the best, and he’d fallen for this green-eyed witch’s simple plan.

He schooled his features to give nothing away. “I’m not interested in marriage, Dr. Foster.”

As he started to rise, her hand reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. He didn’t know whether to believe the look of horror on her face. If she was acting, she was damn good.

“No! I mean, neither am I!”

He raised his eyebrow again, still not convinced it wasn’t a trap. Too many women had seen his millions as a ticket to easy street.

“I meant I want you to come to the wedding as my pretend fiancé. I only need you until after the wedding. I like being single. I have my career. It’s only a pretense!”

She sounded desperate, he’d give her that. But he didn’t see why it would be so important to her…unless she had an ulterior motive. “Why is it necessary?”

“Look, I… Oh, never mind. It was a crazy idea. I’ll figure out something.”

Now it was his turn to reach out and stop her from rising. Was he crazy? He was backing away from the exit sign. “Just explain. You owe me that, at least.”

Her cheeks were red from what might have been embarrassment and she kept her gaze lowered, denying him the sight of those beautiful green eyes. A strand of hair, curling slightly, had escaped the clasp and dangled beside her cheek, urging him to tuck it behind her ear. Most of all, her full pink lips, without lipstick, trembled.

“I’m tired of being harassed,” she muttered.

“Harassed? By whom?”

“My family!” she almost shouted, her eyes blazing with what appeared to be anger as she finally looked at him. “They won’t leave me alone. I chose not to marry. Not to be a—a satellite to some man. I have my own career and I’m happy with my life. But they won’t leave me alone!”

The cold anger in his own heart eased slightly. He was beginning to believe her again. “What do they do?”

“You mean other than calling me every day to suggest I’m a loser old maid with no prospects?” she returned, sarcasm having replaced the anger.

“Every day?”

“I have six sisters plus my mother. And she has two sisters. My grandmother died last year, so she can’t join in—but she would if she could.”

“No wonder you weren’t enthusiastic about large families,” he said, relaxing a little more.

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I love my family. But—but they’re driving me crazy!”

Leaning forward, he captured her hands in his. “But, Elise, this would only be a temporary solution. Then what?”

“You don’t understand. It’s the prospect of a wedding that stirs them all up. And this is the last wedding. Every sister will be married. There won’t be any more weddings on the horizon to get them excited. Chance, my brother, certainly won’t be marching down the aisle. So if I can just get through this one, I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t see them all that often. For several months after the wedding I can tell them you’ve gotten a role in Hollywood. Then I’ll tell them we can’t marry because you’re always gone. It’s simple.”

James didn’t quite believe her last statement. But the prospect of pretending to be Elise’s fiancé had some appeal for him. A great deal of appeal, actually. He was fascinated by her emotion, her soft lips, her green eyes.

Recognizing a danger signal when he saw it, he let go of her hands and sat back. “When is the wedding?”

“In three weeks. That would be enough time to—to learn about each other, wouldn’t it? I mean, I can write out everything you’d have to know.”

Her scholarly approach tickled him. She thought she could write a report and they could convince everyone they were lovers? He grinned. “Well, now, I’m a method actor, sweetheart. I’d have to spend time with you to do a good job.”

The reluctance on her face assured him he’d been wrong about Elise Foster. She wasn’t trying to marry him. She didn’t even want to date him. Which only made her more attractive.

“Spend time? How much time? I mean, I have my classes and office hours and grading papers. I can’t—”

“Evenings, Elise. I have work to do, too. But we could spend a few evenings together, have dinner, talk…you know, like a real couple.”

She looked lost. He understood. He hadn’t dated anyone on a regular basis in years. He hadn’t been comfortable enough with a woman to let her get that close. Was he making another mistake?

“I suppose we could…spend a few evenings together.”

“Okay, you’ve got a deal.” He extended his hand across the table.

After hesitating, she put her hand in his. “But we haven’t discussed your fee.”

“That’s not necessary.” In fact, he was wondering if he should offer to pay her. There was an excitement singing through his veins, an enthusiasm for the days ahead that he hadn’t felt in some time.

“Of course, it’s necessary. I’m hiring you. How much would you be paid for your time if you were doing a play?”

He had no idea what Bobby would receive, so he guessed. “Union wages are a hundred and twenty a day.”

She swallowed. “Okay. How—how many times will we need to go out?”

“Oh, you don’t pay me for those evenings. That’s research. I’m responsible for research. You only pay for the time at the wedding.” He grinned, proud of his solution.

“No, that’s not right. The wedding will be three days, but I’ll pay half that rate for the evenings.” She gave an abrupt nod, firmness in her lips.

He thought she looked adorable.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss that thought.

“No? You won’t agree to half? Okay, I can pay full—”

“That’s not what I meant! That’s fine. What you said was fine. We’ll settle up after the wedding.” When it was over, he’d tell her who he really was. Payment wouldn’t be necessary.

“But won’t you need some money in advance?” She bit down on her bottom lip, and James longed to pull her to him, to touch her there.

“Uh, no, I’ll be fine.”

Her earnest, professorial look firmly in place, she said, “Look, James, don’t let your pride get in the way. I know teaching assistants don’t make much money. I’ll write a check for five hundred dollars and you keep a list of expenses.”

What could he say? He wanted that check. It was proof that she wasn’t after his money, wasn’t it? Not that he’d cash it. Instead, he’d probably frame it, to remember a certain green-eyed siren who had captured him…temporarily.

ELISE WAS UNSETTLED by her arrangement.

Or maybe she was unsettled by James’s insistence that their first research evening be tonight.

Not that she’d had plans. No, she had intended to go over her lesson plans for the next day. And there was a test she needed to grade. Normal activities.

Or maybe she was unsettled by the excitement filling her. This wasn’t a date! And even if it were, a date shouldn’t cause such interest. After all, a male friend was no different from a female one.

That blatant lie couldn’t sail past her truth alarm without ringing wildly. Okay, so sitting across from James Dillon, date or not, was a lot different from sitting with Phoebe and Daisy.

She didn’t shampoo her hair for Phoebe and Daisy.

Or shave her legs.

The phone rang.

“Hi,” Phoebe sang out, her voice cheery. “I met a man today.”

Elise gasped. She had? It must be catching.

“I’m going to introduce him to Daisy,” Phoebe continued.

Oh. Big difference. Elise wasn’t going to introduce the man she’d met to Daisy. Because he wasn’t right for her.

“That’s great. Have you told Daisy?”

“Nope. I thought we’d all grab a bite to eat at The Prickly Pear and discuss it. You can help me convince her.”

“Tonight?” Elise almost squeaked, then cleared her throat to sound normal. “Uh, I can’t tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I’m, uh, doing research.”

“For Daisy?”

“No! For me. I’m using the book to solve one of my problems.”

“When are you going out?”

“At seven.”

“Great, Daisy and I will be right over. We want to hear all about this research.”

Before Elise could protest, Phoebe hung up. But it didn’t matter. She’d have to tell her friends the truth, anyway, sooner or later. Better to get it out of the way.

She grabbed a quick shower, shampooed her hair. When she stepped out, the doorbell was ringing. “Coming!” she shouted as she dashed to her bedroom to find her silky robe. Then she let in her two friends.

“What’s going on?” Daisy asked at once. “It sounds mysterious.”

“No, it’s not. Come in. I’ll get us a cola.” Elise figured she had half an hour before she needed to get ready. “I’ve figured out a way to stop my family from harassing me about my single state.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Phoebe said. “Haven’t they been making daily calls?”

“Yes. But I’ve found a fiancé.”

Daisy almost dropped the drink Elise had just handed her. “What? You’re engaged?”

“No, but the book said look around your neighborhood and—”

“You’re hitting on Jeff? Elise, he’s way too young for you,” Phoebe interrupted. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to marry?”

Elise closed her eyes, knowing she’d made a mess of her explanation. Jeff was the guy who cleaned the pool at Mesa Blue. He was always flirting with all of them, but he was only twenty-two—a baby.

Just how old do you think James is? that irritating inner voice asked. She didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she attempted to answer Phoebe.

“I don’t want to marry. I’m telling this all wrong, just like I did this afternoon.”

“You told someone else before you told us?” Daisy asked, hurt in her eyes.

“Well, I had to!” Elise exclaimed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to be my fiancé. My pretend fiancé!” she emphasized.

“Oh, this is good,” Phoebe said, curling up on the sofa. “Tell us all about him.”

And Elise did, providing the basic facts. Phoebe, however, thought she’d left something out.

“You haven’t described him.”

“Well, he’s your typical Hollywood hunk.” Elise hoped that would satisfy her friends. She should’ve known better.

After staring at her, Phoebe nodded her head and said, “I can’t wait to meet him. Are you going to introduce him to Daisy afterwards?”

“No! Actors aren’t—stable. I mean, their jobs aren’t stable. That wouldn’t be good for a prospective dad, you know.”

“She’s right,” Daisy agreed, which settled Elise’s nerves. “They’re always gone. And they’re notorious for having affairs with the women they work with.”

Elise didn’t like that thought. Not that it was any of her business what James did when he made movies. If he made movies.

Desperate to end the conversation before she revealed too much to herself as well as to her friends, she stood. “Look, I need to get ready. He’s going to be here at seven.”

“Want to let me do your makeup?” Phoebe asked.

Phoebe was a makeup consultant as well as a college student, a “retread” college student as she called herself, and she frequently offered to do Elise’s makeup. Elise always refused.

“This isn’t a date, Phoebe, but thank you. It’s research. That’s what James called it.”

“Okay, come on, Daisy, and I’ll tell you about the guy I found for you today over dinner at The Prickly Pear.” Phoebe stood and offered a hand to pull Daisy to her feet.

Daisy joined Phoebe. “I wish you were coming with us, Elise.”

“When I get in, I’ll call you to find out what the two of you decided about the latest husband prospect for Daisy. With that book to help us, I’m sure you’ll be married and expecting soon, Daisy.”

“I hope so,” Daisy said with a sigh.

JAMES COULDN’T BELIEVE how much he was looking forward to his evening with Elise. Dr. Elise Foster. His friends would laugh if they realized he was dating an egghead, an intellectual.

Not that he was dumb, but he’d made his money understanding popular culture. His ad agency had done some of the most successful ad campaigns in the past few years. That was a long way from Shakespeare, or maybe he should say Molière, the French answer to the famous English playwright.

And Bobby would probably come unglued. James was pretty sure Bobby had taken French with Elise. He remembered now his brother talking about a beautiful French teacher. And Elise was beautiful, in a quiet way. Bobby had only stayed in the class one semester. Studying verb conjugations wasn’t his cup of tea. He’d only wanted to pick up the proper accent.

That probably explained why Elise hadn’t remembered his brother.

He dressed carefully, sticking with jeans and a casual shirt, topped by a linen sports coat. He took the check Elise had given him and tucked it in his breast pocket. His good luck charm.

Earlier, he’d convinced his housekeeper to swap cars with him for the evening. She hadn’t wanted to drive his Mercedes, but she’d promised to visit her sister. If he turned up in the sleek black car, Elise would smell a rat for sure. So tonight, he was driving MaryBelle’s inexpensive sedan.

He reminded himself to talk MaryBelle into allowing him to get the car tuned up for her. It was an older model car, and the rough sound of the engine had him concerned for MaryBelle’s safety. His housekeeper was an energetic sixty-year-old, who could cook and clean like a demon. But she knew nothing about cars. If it broke down with her, she’d be stranded.

He parked in front of the condominiums where Elise lived. Mesa Blue. It actually had a front lawn, an unusual feature in Phoenix. Elise had said it got its name from the swimming pool, the center of the complex. Its tile bottom was a deep blue.

He approved of the well-lit area. It looked safe to him. Funny, he’d never evaluated the security of his dates’ homes before. It was probably because he’d been thinking about MaryBelle’s safety. Yeah, that was it.

He found her apartment on the second floor, apartment 2D, and knocked. His heart rate sped up as he heard footsteps approaching.

When the door opened, he caught his breath.

Gone was the staid suit, the prim hairdo. Elise was dressed in jeans, as he was, topped by a green short-sleeved sweater with a modest V-neck. Her light brown hair was down, curving around her face, and she looked like a college student herself.

He found himself leaning forward, as if to kiss her hello, and stepped back. “Ready?” he asked hastily.

“Yes. Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“If you don’t mind, no. I’m starving.”

She immediately stepped out of her apartment and locked the door behind her. “Of course. Where shall we go?”

“I’ve found a place I think you’ll like. I wanted somewhere quiet so we can talk. Some of these places have the music turned up so loud you can’t hear yourself think.”

Some of the tension he’d noted on her face eased. “I know what you mean. I thought you might prefer those kinds of places. You’re—you’re younger, I suppose.”

“Actually, I’m not as young as you might think,” he admitted, avoiding her gaze. “I came back to ASU after trying my luck on the job market. I discovered I’m more interested in creating drama than I am in acting.” At least, that’s what his brother Bobby had told him when Bobby had made the decision to return to college after a couple of years in Los Angeles.

“Really? Do you write plays?”

“I’m working on a couple. Nothing that’s been bought yet.”

“That’s wonderful, James,” she said eagerly.

He wasn’t sure why that news pleased her so, but he had no objection to making her happy. She was practically beaming at him.

“You prefer a playwright to an actor?”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “It just seems more—more interesting, actually. One of my friends is creative. She has a gallery nearby called Native Art. But her greatest happiness comes when she creates her own art.”

“Hey, I’ve been in that store. She has some nice stuff. And she’s done some of it?” He put his hand on her back to guide her down the stairs, liking the warmth of her, a soft floral scent drifting to his nostrils.

“Actually, no. She creates pottery for her friends, but she won’t put her own work in the store. She doesn’t think it’s good enough.”

“Creative people are often unsure of themselves.” He dealt with employees like Elise’s friend. Brilliant people, but their mood swings sometimes made them difficult to work with.

“Are you?”

It took him a minute to figure out what she was asking. “Uh, I suppose we all are unsure of ourselves sometimes.”

When he and Sylvia had divorced, the anger in him had fueled his first few years, leaving him no room for self-doubt. By the time the anger had dissipated, he’d risen so high in the business, he had a history to fall back on. He hadn’t thought of his past like that. Maybe he owed Sylvia, after all.

He chuckled, amused by his thoughts.

“What’s funny?” Elise asked, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry. Your question reminded me of some of my early struggles.”

“It’s good that you can laugh at them.”

“Yeah, it is.” He hadn’t laughed at them before. Elise was good for him.

“I hope you don’t mind my car. It’s not exactly elegant,” he said, directing her to MaryBelle’s car. He’d rather be driving his Mercedes.

“Of course, I don’t mind. In fact, we can drive mine if you want.”

“No, we’ll take—mine. But what kind of car do you drive? I hope it’s safe.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never had any trouble with it.”

“Good,” he agreed, and held open the door for her.

He got behind the wheel, glad he’d already adjusted the seat and the mirrors for his height. He backed out of the parking lot. “I like your condos. They look nice.”

“Yes, they are. The people who live here are wonderful. My two best friends are here, but everyone’s friendly.”

He couldn’t imagine anyone being unfriendly to Elise, especially men. “Any single men live here?”

“Well, there’s Jeff and Bill.”

He assured himself it was curiosity that had him asking, “Why didn’t you ask one of them to be your pretend fiancé?”

She smiled at him. “Because Jeff is the same age as my students and Bill is almost old enough to be my father. Neither of them would be able to convince my sisters we were serious.”

He nodded, accepting the implied compliment with a smile. “Well, I’ll do my best to be convincing.”

“I’m sure you will.”

James saw the sign for the place he’d found earlier, having decided it would be perfect for a casual meal and conversation. Someplace where he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Here we are,” he said as he parked the car.

He turned to Elise, only to find her staring at the restaurant, her face pale.

Chapter Three

Elise stared at the familiar sign: The Prickly Pear. Out of all the restaurants in Phoenix, he’d chosen her favorite hangout? Where her friends were dining?

“Is something wrong? Don’t you like this place?”

“Oh…yes, I love it. I come here often.”

“Is that it? You’re afraid you’ll be seen with me?”

She heard the annoyance in his voice. With a smile, she said, “Are you kidding? Being seen with you will do wonders for my reputation.”

Her words must’ve pleased him because he gave her that devastating smile and squeezed her hand.

“Good. I was afraid you had a boyfriend stashed away somewhere and didn’t want him to see us out together.”

He got out of the car and came around to open her door before she could pull herself together to get out. “A boyfriend?” she repeated. “If I had a boyfriend, why would I hire you?”

He was still smiling as he took her by the hand. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Um, Jeff, the guy who cleans the pool, might be bartending tonight. That’s his part-time job. And—and my friends Phoebe and Daisy were coming here for dinner. But there’s no one else. I mean, I’m not hiding anyone.”

James held the door open for her, and she walked in. The hostess who normally worked there wasn’t in sight. George, their usual waiter, saw her pausing by the door and came sailing by, a tray in his hands. He stooped and kissed her cheek.

“Hi, love. Just pick a table anywhere. You know the routine.” Then he headed off to deliver the food on his tray.

Elise swallowed and turned to look at James. He had a curiously suspicious look on his face. “That’s George. He usually waits on us.”

“Yeah, I can tell you know him. Why didn’t you ask him?”

Lowering her voice so no one could hear her, she said, “Because George is already married. He and his wife are attending school and working part time.”

James took a deep breath. “Okay. Where do you want to sit.”

Phoebe and Daisy had discovered them by that time and were waving from across the room. “Uh, my friends are here. Do you mind if we say hello?”

“Of course not. But I’d rather not join them tonight. We need to talk, to get to know each other.”

“Yes, of course.” She led the way to their table, glad they weren’t going to have dinner with Phoebe and Daisy. James would only have eyes for her friends. They were so alive, so beautiful.

“Hi, Phoebe and Daisy. This is James Dillon. James, these are my two best friends, Phoebe Lane and Daisy Redford.”

“Evening, ladies.”

Elise could tell how impressed her friends were with James. Which only reinforced her confidence in her excellent choice. Her sisters would be overwhelmed.

She smiled at her friends, pleased at their approval.

James’s arm came around her shoulders, surprising her. His warmth, the scent of his aftershave, the thrill she experienced when he touched her, distracted her. And filled her with concern. She didn’t want to become too interested in James Dillon.

“You know, Elise, why don’t we join Phoebe and Daisy for dinner. Unless you two ladies object? Your food hasn’t arrived yet?”

“No, we haven’t even ordered,” Daisy said. “George is rushed off his feet tonight.”

“Good, then how about it, Elise?” James said, pulling out the nearest empty chair.

Her heart fell. He was attracted to her friends. Maybe it was Daisy who drew him. Then they wouldn’t have to worry about finding a man for her. Or maybe it was Phoebe, with her starlet looks. James was probably used to starlets.

“Elise?”

“Oh, oh, yes, of course. That would be delightful.”

And she fell into the chair he held out for her.

JAMES THOUGHT ELISE had seemed very tense, until she smiled at her friends. So he’d decided Elise might be more forthcoming if she was relaxed.

Now he knew he’d miscalculated. She was more tense than ever. What had gone wrong?

He sat down next to her, trying to figure out how to get out of his decision.

George rushed up. “The usual, darlin’s?”

Elise frowned. “James hasn’t been here before. I don’t know—”

“What’s the usual?” he asked, not much caring what he ate. He was more interested in Elise.

“A chicken Caesar salad,” Phoebe explained. “But their burgers are really good.”

“I’ll have a burger,” he said at once.

George nodded in his direction. Then, after the three women said they’d have the usual, he moved on.

“So, you three must eat here a lot,” he commented, hoping to see Elise relax.

“Several times a week,” Daisy said. “After working all day, it doesn’t seem worth the effort to cook for one when we can come here and have a healthy salad.”

“I know what you mean. If I didn’t have—” He broke off, reminding himself a struggling teaching assistant didn’t have a housekeeper. “Uh, if I didn’t have my mom nearby, I’d exist on hamburgers.”

Phoebe chuckled. “I don’t think a man ever outgrows his need to go home to be fed.”

“Which one of you has the art gallery?” he asked.

Daisy looked at Elise, then back at James. “That’s me.”

“I’ve been to it. I was impressed with your inventory.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re interested in art?”

“Depends—but I liked what you had,” he said.

The other two grinned in response to his flattery, but Elise did not.

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know just how much Elise had told her friends. Did she want them to think he was a serious suitor? “Uh, Elise and I just met. I thought if we joined you two, you could tell me secrets about her.” He nudged Elise with his elbow, hoping to draw some response.

“They know,” she said, not looking at him.

James cocked an eyebrow at the other two women. “You do?”

They nodded. Daisy added, “Elise told us because we’re searching for a man for me, and she used the book to find you.”

James sat back in his chair and stared at the three women. What was wrong with the men these three knew? They were all beautiful. Why did they have to search for men?

“Maybe you know more than I do. What book? And why are you searching for a man?” he finished, looking at Daisy.

Phoebe fielded the first question. “2001 WAYS TO WED.”

When he stared at her blankly, she added, “That’s the book.”

James turned to Elise, whose cheeks were rosy red. “You found me in a book?”

“No, not exactly,” Elise said. “It said to look at your neighbors. I told you there weren’t any neighbors who would do, but when I thought about work, I remembered the Drama Department. It sounded like the perfect place to find someone who could—pretend.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed. Then he turned to Daisy. “I know it’s none of my business, but why are you looking for a man? I mean, why do you have to look? I would think any of you could have your choice of men.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Phoebe said with a smile, “but Daisy is the only one looking.”

“And it’s because my biological clock is ticking,” Daisy hurriedly added. “I’m ready to have a child.”

James’s eyes widened. “I think I’m glad I’m helping out Elise and not you.”

“I’m not looking for anything temporary,” Daisy said, squaring her jaw. “I was raised without a father. I won’t do that to my child.”

“Good for you,” he agreed. Then he reached over and picked up Elise’s hand. “How’s your biological clock, sweetheart?”

Elise snatched her hand away. “Just fine, thank you. Remember all those sisters? Who do you think took care of them?”

“Your brother?” he teased, knowing the answer.

“Not hardly.”

“I can’t wait to meet this brother, raised with seven sisters. He’s either overwhelmingly masculine, in self-defense, or he learned to play with dolls.”

“Definitely the first,” Elise said without hesitation.

James looked at the other two.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Phoebe said. “We’ve never met him. He doesn’t come around often.”

“He’s an attorney and has long hours,” Elise said. “I talk to him on the phone, but he doesn’t have a lot of spare time.”

“I guess his job is the reason you said he wouldn’t be marching down the aisle anytime soon.”

Elise nodded.

James knew most people would classify him in the same group. And they’d be right. Which explained why he’d questioned Elise’s motives early on. But somehow he just didn’t see deceit being her strong point.

“So, do you think Elise and I will be able to pull this thing off?”

He read the doubt on her friends’ faces.

“Well, you have three weeks,” Phoebe said. “And you’re an actor. But I don’t know about Elise.”

“Hey! I can pretend,” Elise protested.

Daisy chuckled. “You can’t even pay an insincere compliment, Elise. She blushes a bright red when she tries,” she added to James. “If we really want to know if we’ve bought something we shouldn’t have, we ask Elise.”

Elise scowled at Daisy, but James saw the concern in her gaze. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll teach you method acting. You’ll do fine.” He knew that much from Bobby.

Phoebe chuckled. “Is that your style of acting?”

James knew she understood what he meant, but Elise still didn’t have a clue. “It works best, especially for beginners.”

Their dinners arrived at that moment. The food was good, the conversation even better.

James decided he’d learned more about Elise than he would have on their own. In particular, he noted her friends’ remarks about her honesty.

Sylvia had been an expert liar.

Several hours later, the two friends excused themselves, both claiming chores that had to be done that evening before bedtime.

“I enjoyed meeting your friends, but they don’t seem practical types—especially Phoebe,” James said after they’d left.

“She’s very beautiful.”

“None of you are going to be used on wanted posters, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle. “But she seems more the movie-star type. Like maybe she’s an actress, too.”

“She was at one time, but her heart wasn’t in it. She’s…got other plans now.”

“Interesting friends.”

Elise said thanks, but she looked away.

“Are you upset that we joined them?”

“No, of course not,” she hurriedly said, and smiled at him.

But it wasn’t her best smile.

“I figured once you met them, you’d want to get to know them better,” she said.

He stared at her. “Are you implying I’m more interested in them than I am in you?” He couldn’t believe she’d think that.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re pretending, remember? I need to excuse myself. I’ll be back in a minute.”

James stared after her, confused.

“YOU IDIOT!” Elise addressed herself in the mirror. “You’re the one who keeps forgetting. How could you let him know that you’re jealous.”

She powdered her nose and tried to get up the courage to return to the table. It had been an enlightening evening. For her. She’d discovered James had an infinite capacity for charm. And that she was way too interested in him.

What was she going to do now? Start over?

“Oh, yeah, I can see me telling James he won’t do.”

“I beg your pardon?” said a young woman who’d just come out of one of the stalls.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself.” She rushed from the ladies’ room, embarrassed by her foolishness.

No, she couldn’t back out now. Besides, James was perfect for the role. And she didn’t really have any interest in him. All the reasons for not choosing him for Daisy applied to Elise, too.

If she ever did consider marriage, it would be to a man who centered his world around her. Not the opposite. Actors were notoriously egotistical.

Which had been Richard’s strong suit, too.

She reached the table, but she didn’t bother to sit down. “Are you ready? I need to get home. I have some papers to grade.”

“Sure. But I’m waiting for George to bring back my credit card.”

Rather than just stand there like an idiot, she sat. “Okay.”

George instantly appeared, and James signed the ticket.

She popped up like a jack-in-the-box as soon as he finished writing.

“You are in a hurry, aren’t you,” he said, frowning.

“I have an early class tomorrow.” And a faulty resistance system for handsome men, apparently.

“Okay. So our next date—I mean, research meeting, should be Friday night, so you can sleep late the next morning.”

“But today is Wednesday. We don’t need to meet that often, do we?” she asked, hoping she was hiding her concern.

“Only if you want to convince your sisters. We still have a lot to learn about each other.”

She supposed that was true. It seemed to her he’d spent most of his time talking to her friends, so she didn’t think it was her fault they had to go out more often.

When they got in the car and he’d backed out into traffic, she said, “What’s your favorite color?”

He looked at her, surprise on his face. Then, with a smile, he said, “Green.”

She turned bright red since she was wearing green and he was staring at her sweater. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“And yours?”

Her favorite color was green, too, but she didn’t want to say that now. He’d think she was just saying that to agree with him.

“Red,” she said firmly. “Red is my favorite color.”

“I’m not surprised. It matches your cheeks,” he pointed out, a grin on his lips.

She hoped he didn’t remember Daisy’s comment about her lies.

“Are you a morning person, or a night person?” she asked, hoping a change of subject would help her equilibrium.

“Do I have to be one or the other?”

That response startled her. “Isn’t everyone?”

“I guess I’m more night than morning, but I don’t like to sleep late. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

“And I suppose you think people who do are lazy?”

He took his gaze off the road, frowning at her. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“No! I just— People who— Never mind.” She crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing more.

They finished the drive in silence. Fortunately it wasn’t a long drive.

After killing the motor, he partially turned toward her. “I take it you require a lot of sleep?”

“I need eight hours, like normal people.”

“That means you’re a night person, right? You stay up too late and then have trouble getting up. So we’ll tell your sisters our being together works well because I can get you out of bed in the mornings,” he said with a smile.

Elise stared at him in horror. “We’ll do nothing of the sort!”

“Why? Surely you don’t think they’ll believe we’re not sleeping with each other. We’re not exactly teenagers.”

“I suppose you think sex should be a part of dating?” She tried to keep her outrage under control.

“If there’s no sexual attraction, there won’t be an engagement. If they’re going to believe us, they have to think I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“I’m not sure you’re that good an actor,” she snapped.

His chuckle surprised her, and she glared at him.

“Sweetheart, that part doesn’t require any acting.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a beautiful woman. I’m a man. We men are drawn to beautiful women. And you look damn good in jeans.”

“I don’t— They’re old.”

“And fit you like a glove. It was a pure pleasure to follow you around tonight.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she knew she’d be so self-conscious when she got out of the car, she’d scarcely be able to walk.

“Is sex all you ever think about?” she asked, hoping to stop this conversation.

“Nope. But it’s nice to consider.”

“There are other things more important. Like…” She thought desperately. “Like, are you a Republican or a Democrat?”

“You choose your men based on their political preferences?” he asked, incredulity in his voice.

“No! But it’s something I should know.”

“Okay. I’m neither. I vote based upon the candidate, not the political party.” He smiled. “How about you?”

“Me? Uh, I’m—” What could she say? She did the same. “Me, too,” she mumbled.

“What a relief. We can check that one off the list. What else?”

“Why do I have to come up with all the questions? You should ask me about things that are important to you.” Anything to get herself off the hook. Because her mind was a blank.

“Okay. Do you want children?”

She almost choked. She wouldn’t have expected that question in a million years. “I said I wasn’t interested in marriage!”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“Yes, it is. Because, like Daisy, I wouldn’t choose to be a single parent. So that eliminates the prospect of children.” She tried to keep any sadness out of her voice. The past few years, when she played with her nieces and nephews, a longing she tried to keep buried rose in her. But she’d accepted that she would never hold her own child in her arms.

“But what if someone in your family asks us about our plans to have children?”

“Well, to appease them, just say we want children but we don’t know when or how many.”

“Why are you so against marriage? Didn’t your parents have a happy marriage?”

She definitely didn’t like this line of questioning. “Yes, they did. I want to know your shoe size.”

He blinked several times, drawing attention to his blue eyes. “My shoe size? Is there some psychological connection that I’m missing?”

She thought she’d pass out. Shoe size had been the first thing to come into her head, but women whispered about the shoe size being representative of the size of a certain other organ. Did James know that? She thought she’d die of embarrassment.

“I—I thought my sisters would expect me to know that.”

“Well, for your sisters’ edification, I wear a ten and a half. Oh, and I wear an extra-large shirt.”

It was her turn to stare at him. Why would she need to know that?

“In case you’re buying me a birthday present,” he added, with a cheeky grin. “Actually, I thought you’d ask the more important question.”

When he didn’t continue, she asked, “What question?”

“Boxers or briefs?”

Elise tried to keep her chin up, fighting the embarrassment filling her, but she knew her cheeks gave her away. “Well?”

“Briefs. And you? Do you wear a thong?”

She’d stepped right into that one. Without warning, she opened the car door and got out. Then she leaned back in. “Never!” was her terse reply.

But he had the last word. Before she could slam the door, she heard him say in that deep, silky voice, “Too bad.”

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