The Boss's Fake Fiancee Read online

  She squeezed back, hoping to convey her own mix of I love you, too, darling, and If you dish it out, you better be ready to take it.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got, Ten,” Garth said, nodding toward the large man across from them.

  Ten pulled the cloth off the table with a flourish, revealing a silver tray with a black velvet ring display on top. Five diamonds winked at Melissa, and she gasped.

  “Now that’s exactly the sort of reaction I was hoping for,” Ten said, with a deep chuckle.

  The diamonds were huge, and they twinkled madly as living rainbows danced across their surface. Each stone had its own shape and character. Ten began to describe the different cuts—Melissa heard the words “heart,” “marquis,” and “emerald.” But she couldn’t focus on anything other than the rings and the feeling of Garth’s hand, warm and solid against hers.

  “Why don’t you try one?” Ten said. “They transform when they’re on your hand. You’ll see.” He handed Garth a ring with a large center stone set high above a delicate platinum band.

  Garth let go of her other hand to take the ring from Ten. He held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Ready?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

  Melissa nodded. Nerves suddenly tightened her stomach. She knew this was all make-believe, but somehow, that didn’t quite matter.

  Garth reached for her left hand. She tried to look excited and relaxed all at once. She guessed it didn’t work, as her cheeks flushed with the sudden beating of her heart.

  The heavy metal slipped onto her finger. Garth lingered, holding her hand in his. He stroked her palm. Melissa quivered, deep in her stomach.

  “What do you think?” Garth asked.

  She stared at her hand. The huge stone sat there, winking at her. It was a magnificent piece of jewelry and she should have been excited, on some purely feminine level, to wear it. But when she looked at her finger and saw how the enormous jewel swallowed up most of her hand, it felt…wrong.

  She glanced at Garth. “I—I don’t know,” she replied, unsure how to react.

  He studied her hand. He lifted it up slightly, and turned it an inch or so in either direction. Then he looked into her eyes and Melissa had the feeling he was reading her mind.

  “No,” Garth said. He slid the ring off her finger. “Not right.”

  Melissa breathed a sigh of relief, even while she felt an odd sense of loss when he broke off the contact between them.

  They tried two others, but each time, Garth studied the ring, studied Melissa, and then declared it a failure. Finally, he leaned toward Ten and whispered something in his ear. Ten nodded approvingly and walked behind a small counter. He bent down and retrieved something from underneath.

  “I brought it just in case,” he said, as he handed a small black box to Garth.

  The box opened with a soft click. Garth stared inside for a moment before withdrawing the tiny object. As they had each time before, Garth gently slipped the new ring on her finger. Melissa looked down, fearing another huge diamond.

  And then froze.

  This ring was entirely different from the others. A large, aquamarine stone sparkled from the center, circled by what had to be twenty or thirty tiny, shimmering diamonds. Delicate filigree danced around the stones, giving the whole thing an otherworldly, ornate beauty. It was lighter than the other rings, but taller.

  “It’s one of our vintage rings,” Ten said. “An Art Deco piece from the 1920s. Recently discovered at an estate sale. There were a few missing stones that had to be replaced, but otherwise, it’s all original period work.”

  “It’s incredible,” Melissa breathed. She traced the outline of the center stone with one finger. The ring felt magical, like she’d just been given a treasure from a fairy tale. She imagined the original owner as a slightly built woman with a sleek cap of shining hair, wearing the ring with her waist-long string of pearls and flapper dress.

  She glanced up from the ring and her gaze was captured by Garth, who was staring at her with an uncanny intensity.

  “What?” she asked hesitantly.

  Garth paused, and Melissa felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She brushed back a strand of hair and laughed weakly, staring at her hand. “Do you like it?”

  “I do.” He reached out and tipped her face toward his. “It’s perfect.”

  Melissa looked up, surprised to feel his hand on her skin. Any protest died on her lips as Garth leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss.

  …

  He’d done it on impulse, a crude means of exerting some sort of revenge on Melissa for flustering him. He’d wanted to punish her for the little kiss she’d planted on his cheek, which had stopped him in his tracks, and the bizarre spark of connection he’d felt each time he touched her skin and slipped a new ring on her finger. He shouldn’t feel anything at all, and instead he felt a surge of possessive pleasure at the act of marking and branding her as his, wearing his ring.

  The whole experience was barbaric and chauvinistic and utterly unlike him. He’d thought about Samantha for the barest second when he slipped on the first ring, but she was forgotten in a heartbeat. Because Melissa was different, and something about the look on her face when he slid on the final ring erased the memories that he’d been nursing for years.

  And then his body took over for his mind and he leaned forward without only the barest moment of hesitation.

  The need was too intense, the moment too right.

  Melissa froze as they touched, her lips parting under his. They merged for one moment, and he could smell her hint of roses, taste of mint, and softness all delivered through the silky warmth of her lips. He touched her lip with his tongue. Her mouth parted and he pressed his advantage, exploring and tasting, not even caring that Ten was there, or that security cameras were likely recording the entire interaction. All he knew was a fierce desire to linger, to lose himself in a tempest of heat and need.

  She seemed to feel the same, eagerly responding, matching his movements with her own. He touched the back of her neck, tickled the silky hair that had been pulled into a loose knot. He wanted to unleash it. Drag it down and tangle his hands in it.

  He wanted to hold tight. Explore her curves. Claim her.

  It was the very intensity of his desire that finally drew him back.

  Hellfire.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

  With an effort, he concealed the moment of unrestrained emotion. Melissa’s eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise. Had she felt it, too?

  Unsure of the answer, he forced a small, satisfied smile, as if he’d done the whole thing just to irritate her. As if the exercise of slipping rings on her finger and then kissing her soundly didn’t affect him in the least.

  Her eyes flared with anger, and he relaxed. That was better. He would rather she was angry with him and thought that he had used her than have her know how deeply that single kiss had affected him. After all, the last thing he wanted was to give her the impression that any of this—anything at all—was real. He didn’t want, or need, a bride. He’d built his life around the expectation of being alone, and he was happy with that.

  Or, at least, satisfied.

  “It’s perfect for you,” he said. “Just perfect.”

  “You know me so well,” she replied sweetly, her eyes stabbing him like knives. She made a point of turning away from him, gently stroking the edges of the ring and positioning her hand at various angles to see how the tiny diamonds caught the light.

  Garth turned to Ten. “Thanks for bringing that one out.”

  “Of course, Mr. Solen,” Ten replied, nodding with pleasure as he studied Melissa and the ring. “You obviously know your lady. Those others didn’t do her justice. This is perfect.”

  Garth watched the hint of pink in Melissa’s cheeks deepen under Ten’s regard. The soft color emphasized the delicate curves of her face, and the deep blue of the stone accentuated the cerulean cast of her eyes.

  “I ag
ree.” His response came unbidden, and Melissa turned to him, startled.

  Damn it, since when had his mouth taken control of his brain?

  Ten turned to collect the other rings, and Garth hastened to drop Melissa an exaggerated bow. “Only the best for you, darling.”

  She could not hide the flash of disappointment that stole the smile from her face. Or the look of anger that followed.

  A cold shiver danced along his spine. Less than a day of their “engagement” had passed, and here he was, lurching from emotion to emotion, resorting to cruel games to cover his own confusion and misplaced emotions. For the first time, Garth wondered if the entire charade could have been a big mistake.

  No. Nan needs this.

  He pushed aside the doubt. In three weeks, the game would be done. Nan would be better, he and Melissa would go their separate ways. Life would go on just as it had before.

  She was, after all, a fake fiancée.

  Chapter Six

  Melissa awoke Saturday morning with a sore throat and a pounding headache. The sore throat came from parroting, “I know it’s crazy! What can I say—we fell in love!” over and over, and the headache from taking a fresh gulp of wine every time she said it.

  To her mother. Her brothers. Friends from college. Friends she didn’t even know she had.

  Apparently, becoming the fiancée of a billionaire made her something of a catch in New York social circles. One of the many things she hadn’t considered when she’d agreed to this ridiculous charade.

  Why in the name of all that’s holy did you agree to do this?

  The answer there appeared more than a little complex. Guilt? Yes, absolutely. She’d been caught in a lie and felt terrible about it. And she hated the idea of Garth’s grandmother being involved. Yet there was more than just guilt involved. There was also some part of her—an embarrassed, adolescent part—that had thrilled to the prospect of spending more time with Garth, particularly such intimate time.

  He thinks you’re a lying, immature idiot.

  And maybe you are.

  A deep sigh.

  A fake engagement? How in the world are you going to pull this off?

  Then there were the other glasses of wine she’d drunk in an effort to forget that single, devastating kiss. Apparently, pretending to be Garth’s fiancée was going to require self-control of epic proportions. Hating him, which she had decided to try after his mocking look on the way out of Hadrien, couldn’t hurt.

  Anything was better than the “Take me, I’m yours” response she’d given to his kiss.

  Her phone rang and she rolled over, squinting at the blinking object with sleep-crusted eyes. She fumbled with the receiver until her clumsy fingers located the talk button. “Hello?”

  “You ready? I’ll be there in five.”

  Melissa cringed. They were meeting Garth’s grandmother that morning. Because she didn’t have a car, Garth had promised to pick her up. But he was ten minutes early. Ten minutes she desperately needed for a cup of coffee and a shower.

  “Drive around,” she said, wishing she had the energy to sound resolute. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

  “You’ll be ready in ten,” he replied. “I’ll pull up in front. I think there are reporters, so be prepared.”

  He hung up, and Melissa groaned. Garth Solen the fiancé was just as much a force of nature as Garth Solen the boss.

  Ten minutes later, a cup of coffee in her hand, a large pair of sunglasses covering her eyes, and four ibuprofen in her veins, she emerged from her apartment. Garth was waiting by the front door, looking heartbreakingly gorgeous in a pair of faded jeans and casual polo shirt. Two men with cameras flashed pictures as they hurried down her short flight of steps and into the car.

  “So,” she said as soon as he pulled away from the curb. The presence of the reporters had unnerved her almost as much as the feeling of Garth’s body, mere inches away as he shielded her from the cameras, and she had to consciously adopt a breezy, casual tone to cover her discomfort. “Any last-minute instructions before I meet Grandma? Anything I should be prepared for? A casual groping, perhaps?”

  She deliberately squashed the red-hot desire that had electrified her the instant her gaze fell to his lips, and the feeling of want that had set every nerve tingling when she smelled his hint of spice and sandalwood.

  “If you’re referring to what happened yesterday, I was trying to act engaged,” Garth said, as he checked his side-view mirror and merged into traffic, not the slightest hint of regret in his voice. “What engaged man doesn’t kiss his bride after he finds her the perfect engagement ring?” He looked pointedly at her lap. “You do know I’ll want that back, I hope.”

  Melissa glanced down and realized she’d been involuntarily caressing the cool surface of the aquamarine stone. “Of course,” she said, even though she’d spent most of the night obsessively admiring the gorgeous thing that had taken up residence on her hand. “But in light of yesterday’s incident, I think we need to set some ground rules for our little masquerade going forward.”

  “Oh?” Garth quirked a brow. “Like what?”

  “Like no more kissing.” Melissa had replayed that kiss a thousand times over the last twenty-four hours, and one thing had become perfectly clear: it could not happen again. With the simple pressure of his lips and deliberate stoking of his tongue, Garth had teased, promised, and set her body yearning. In short, he’d given her an experience she did not want to repeat.

  Not when his smile afterward had told her that he absolutely did not feel the same.

  “Sorry,” Garth said, not sounding the least bit so. “That’s a negative. You’re my fiancée. I have to be able to kiss you whenever I want.”

  Melissa gritted her teeth. Great. Now he’d kiss her because he knew it irritated her.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “But only in public. And I draw the line at kissing. No other, ahem, touching.”

  “Wrong again,” he said. Her dour mood seemed to be having the opposite effect on him, as his voice grew increasingly cheerful. “I need access to the torso.”

  “Why?” Melissa demanded.

  “October 29 is the annual Autism Advocates charity auction. The press will be there and they will want to see us acting like a couple. Which may involve some posing. And touching.”

  She ignored the reference to touching and focused instead on the rest of his statement. “You’re going to the auction?”

  “Natalie Orelian is a sponsor. It’s the perfect opportunity to talk to her.”

  Now that was dedication. Melissa had volunteered for the Advocates charity auction for years and it was a huge, lavish affair designed to appeal to New York’s wealthiest. Tickets were a thousand dollars each, and the live-auction items ranged from original art to jewelry to haute couture clothing, donated by New York designers. Reporters swarmed the place before, during, and after. For a private person like Garth it would be a nightmare.

  “Why do I need to go?” She tried to picture walking into the gala with Garth, wearing her sparkly new engagement ring. The image simply didn’t compute. On the rare occasion Garth attended a public event, he inevitably appeared with a lanky, expressionless model or a brilliant but cold heiress. Not a painfully average-looking engineer with a distinct lack of suitable evening attire.

  “I had planned to bring a different date,” Garth explained. “But—”

  “That would be awkward,” Melissa concluded, “now that you’re engaged.”

  “Exactly.”

  Melissa tapped her finger against the armrest and considered the proposition. She couldn’t think of any reasonable excuse for saying no. “Fine. I’ll attend. And I give you permission to touch me while we’re there. But above the waist only, got it?”

  Garth’s eyes gleamed. “Got it.” He paused as they turned onto a smaller, two-lane highway. “Unless, of course, you go somewhere else first.”

  “What?” Melissa straightened so abruptly the seatbelt locked and held her rigid
ly in place. She forced herself to relax and sink back down so she could loosen the strap’s death grip on her shoulder and hip. “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged, and she thought she caught a hint of a tiny, genuine smile. “I’m just saying it’s tit for tat.” At her outraged look, his mouth actually quirked up at the corner. “Bad choice of words. All I’m saying is that I might not be the only one doing the groping. And fair’s fair, right? You go below the waist, I can, too.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Melissa said darkly.

  “Of course not,” Garth said.

  “Why do you say it like that?” she demanded.

  “What?” He cast her a quick look, all wide-eyed innocence. “I’m agreeing with you.”

  “Hmph.” Melissa took a long sip from her cup of coffee. “Why are you in such a good mood, anyway? Did Solen Labs end up on the cover of Artificial Intelligence Today or something?”

  “Better. Orelian sent me an email congratulating me on my engagement. And she wants to see a draft funding agreement.”

  “Really?” Melissa turned to him in surprise.

  “Apparently she’s a romantic at heart.” Garth’s pleasure was obvious in the smooth cadence of his voice. “Now I just have to convince her to fund ThinkSpeak before you walk away and break my heart.”

  Chapter Seven

  It took a little over forty minutes to get to Garth’s house in Scarsdale. Melissa kept her face carefully impassive as they passed through a large iron gate and wove down a long driveway. The last thing she wanted was to give Garth the satisfaction of ooh-ing and aah-ing over the ancient, spreading oak trees and expansive green lawns of his—well, his estate.

  His enormous, spectacular estate.

  She knew she was unlikely to maintain the façade. Melissa’s brothers had always teased her for her inability to hide her true feelings, whether they were horror at the sight of an ugly shawl her mother had found for her at a thrift store in The Village, or heartbreak when the boy she liked in high school referred to her as “one of those chess club geeks.”