The Boss's Fake Fiancee Page 8

  “It’s just for a few days, and as Nan mentioned, I am the boss.” Garth paused. “I’ll reassign some of your work. People will be expecting us to take some time off. You and I both probably spend too much time in front of a computer screen anyway.”

  She paused, struggling to take in the now strangely cordial tone of his voice. “What if I don’t want you to reassign my work?”

  “Melissa.”

  Something about the way he said her name—slowly, patiently—communicated his simultaneous sympathy and conviction that she was being absolutely ridiculous.

  “Garth,” she mimicked, though doing so made her feel petty.

  “I’m not going to force you to give anything up,” he said. “I’m just trying to make this a little easier on both of us.”

  She felt her objections melting away, yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to agree. “I’ll keep my work. And I can take the train.”

  “You’re not taking the train.”

  She sighed. Arguing with Garth was like arguing with a brick wall. “Fine. My mother is determined to have you over for brunch, you know. You can’t avoid her forever.”

  “Of course I can,” Garth replied lightly. “And we don’t have time next weekend. We will be coming back from Seesaw on Sunday.”

  “Then it will have to be the weekend after that.”

  “But the Sunday after that is October twenty-eighth. Why bother? The whole thing will be over a few days later.”

  For some reason, his rational series of questions irritated Melissa more than if he had simply argued with her. “We will bother,” Melissa enunciated through clenched teeth, “because if you don’t agree to meet with them they’re going to call my brother Brit, and he’s going to come marching back home from Scotland and create the biggest scandal you could ever imagine.”

  Melissa had begged her parents and brothers not to call Brit. Her excuse was an honest one—she didn’t want him to cut short his trip to Scotland. They all knew the likelihood of him flying back in a hurry if he found out about a whirlwind courtship, and no one wanted him to do that. Still, her mother’s reluctance to disturb Brit didn’t keep her from using him as blackmail.

  He blew out an exasperated breath. “We’ll have coffee.”

  “Brunch,” Melissa said, determined not to back down. “You’ll come over for Sunday brunch and pretend to be a dutiful fiancé. You’ll save yourself from scandal and me from being treated like an utter idiot—for the second time in a year—by my family.”

  “Why would they think you’re an idiot?”

  “I don’t have a very good track record with men.” Her family’s propensity for treating her like a child was another topic entirely. One she had no interest in discussing with Garth. “Look, just agree to come to brunch, all right?”

  There was a long pause. Finally, “All right, ten to one, Sunday the twenty-eighth.”

  Melissa sighed with relief. “Great. And thanks. I appreciate it.”

  …

  Garth hung up the phone and slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Brunch? With her parents? What was he thinking?

  He revved the engine and changed lanes abruptly. Damn it, the woman had the oddest effect on him. The sound of her voice conjured up images of her mouth, which in turn brought back the taste of her lips, and his pants suddenly became uncomfortably tight. Despite the fact that he’d seen her only a few minutes before, he found himself strangely eager to see her again and had almost considered inventing an excuse to turn around and bring her back to Scarsdale right then and there.

  Most confusing of all, he had, for some reason, just agreed to do the thing he hated most—socialize with a bunch of strangers—simply to make her happy. He gritted his teeth, knowing what would most likely result.

  Be careful what you wish for, Melissa, he thought grimly.

  You might not like what you get.

  Chapter Ten

  For the next week, Garth appeared at her apartment each morning at seven and drove her back with him to Scarsdale. He had breakfast with Melissa and Nan, and then disappeared to his study to work for an hour while the women spent time looking at old photo albums, drinking tea, and talking. Melissa could already tell breaking up with Garth would be difficult when the time came—if only because she would miss his sweet grandmother, who struggled to lift the heavy books of pictures, and occasionally coughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

  From there, they’d head to the city, where Melissa would spend a few minutes being teased by her co-workers, usually until the moment Garth would walk down the hall, at which point everyone would fall silent and hurry away to their desks. She worked furiously when she was in her office, more determined than ever to prove her worth to Solen Labs—and herself. She was not going to let one mistake ruin the rest of her career. She loved the work too much, even if it meant enduring awkward smiles and knowing looks.

  Her favorite part of the day came at six when Garth would appear at her door, with his hint of a shadow on his beard, to drive her home. Her friend Hal, who worked in the office next to hers, would give them both a jaunty salute when they walked out the door. On the way home, they’d talk about work. Garth would bounce ideas off of her, or she’d share her frustration over stubborn programming issues.

  “Did you see the latest ThinkSpeak prototype?” he’d asked her one day. The excitement in his voice was more than she’d ever heard from him, and it made her smile.

  “I did,” she replied. “We all did. You made a point of bringing it around the office, remember?”

  Garth shot her a look as he pulled out into the thick New York traffic. “I suppose I did. But I had the feeling there was something you didn’t tell me. Some feedback on the design?”

  Melissa paused to collect her thoughts. “I wonder if there’s some way to streamline it? Make it less obtrusive? I was thinking that we might be able to redesign the sensors and create more of a cap, less of a bulky helmet. It seems like anything we can do to make these kids and their caregivers feel more comfortable in groups, the better.”

  Garth tapped his finger on his lips. “That’s a great point. We might be able to move some of the electronics from the cap to the central processor. That could lighten things up considerably.”

  They brainstormed back and forth that night, and the next day as well. Meanwhile, Melissa carefully reminded herself every day that her engagement was fake. It was one thing to nurse an unrequited crush on her boss. It was another thing to fall for a bossy, emotionally unavailable pretend fiancé. The problem was, the more she got to know him, the harder it became to invent reasons not to like him.

  For one thing, Garth was absolutely devoted to his grandmother. That was obvious. And even though his housekeeper was a tad rough around the edges, he seemed attached to her as well. Then there was his unmistakable fondness for the three dogs that followed him around like a god. It was difficult to think cruel thoughts about a man who had a weakness for little white dogs. Especially ones named after Star Wars characters.

  Though by no means effusive, he smiled and laughed—even joked—when he was at home with Nan and Jess, something he never did in public. She had known he was intensely private, but Melissa now suspected that meant more than simply not giving out his phone number. It also meant not sharing his emotions with people he didn’t trust.

  Which was to say, almost everyone.

  At least he’s still bossy. I can still hate that about him.

  There had been no repeat of the kiss that had left her reeling, and she told herself she was relieved. But when she fell asleep at night she kept imagining him leaning over her, a tiny, ineffable smile creasing the corner of his mouth just before he set her lips on fire.

  …

  Garth picked her up early Friday morning. He threw her small suitcase into the back of car and then wove his way out of Brooklyn, headed for Connecticut. He had a different car today—a black BMW coupe with a buttery-soft leather interior. Melissa hadn’t slept we
ll the night before—she was too worried about what the weekend would be like—and her nerves combined with her overtired state to create a generally foul mood.

  “Is this what billionaires do?” Melissa asked, wrinkling her nose. “Switch expensive cars once a week?”

  She’d discovered, earlier in the week, that needling Garth could provide hours of amusement. Particularly when he did that little frowny thing that meant she’d gotten under his skin.

  “It’s about one hundred twenty miles to Essex. The Tesla has a three-hundred-mile range, but I don’t like to risk it.” He patted the steering wheel. “Besides, she gets antsy if I leave her in the garage too long.”

  Melissa’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and checked the screen.

  Perfect. Her mother. At seven a.m. on a Friday.

  She bared her teeth at Garth in a feline smile. “I’ve been dodging my mother all week. She keeps asking me questions about you that I can’t answer. Now you can suffer along with me.” She pushed the button to answer. “Hi, Mom,” she said brightly. “We were just talking about you. And brunch. Garth’s really looking forward to it.”

  Beside her, the frowny face appeared.

  Melissa enjoyed only a small moment of triumph before drowning in a barrage of questions. She paused every few minutes to mute her phone and turn to Garth for answers every woman should have about her husband-to-be.

  Like, “Is he allergic to anything?” (Yes, tomatoes.)

  “How does he feel about cats?” (Not a fan, but willing to fake it.)

  “Vegetarian?” (Eye roll.)

  And then came more of the other questions, the ones she’d been putting off all week, which were coming with increasing frequency and urgency. Things like: “Why can’t you set a date? (This is a busy time, Mom. We can’t think about that right now.) “What kind of cake do you want?” (For the love of God, Mom, can’t that wait?) “Can we invite Uncle Ralph? I think he’ll be out of rehab next month.” (Groan. Uncle Ralph? Really?)

  Then again, her mother’s questions were nothing compared to the ones that had been coming her way from her brothers. Melissa didn’t like the idea of fooling her parents, but she hated the idea of hiding the truth from Joe and Ross. The three of them had always been close, sometimes in solidarity against Brit, sometimes against her parents. She’d never lied to them before, and doing so now nauseated her.

  After twenty minutes on the phone with her mother, she pretended to lose the signal. Twice. Finally, Phoebe seemed to get the hint.

  “We’ll see you next Sunday! Bye!”

  Melissa collapsed back into the seat and blew out a long breath.

  “You look like you’ve just run a marathon,” Garth observed. Despite all her questions, he’d managed to maintain his equanimity during the phone call. Something about her increasing irritation seemed to rub him the right way.

  “My mother has a special knack for being controlling when it comes to matters that she cares about,” Melissa said, “and absent when it comes to things she doesn’t.” She realized her words sounded harsh and sighed. “To be fair, it isn’t every day you learn about your daughter’s engagement in a tabloid.”

  “But at some point,” Garth said. “She’s just got to trust your judgment, right?”

  Melissa laughed, though the sound held no humor. “My parents stopped trusting my judgment after I moved in with Mark. Dealing the aftermath of his cheating didn’t help.” She stared out at the road before them, already feeling the sting of her family’s disapproval when she told them she was breaking up with Garth—three weeks after she’d announced her engagement.

  Garth glanced at her and then back to the road. “What exactly happened with him?”

  “He was my thesis advisor. He told me he loved me and I believed him. He asked me to come to California with him when he set up his lab, and I did. I was starry-eyed. I thought he was The One.”

  “And?”

  “And then he cheated on me with one of the lab assistants. Everyone in our circle knew about it. And I, um, had a hard time for a while.”

  That is, if refusing to leave her apartment for weeks, losing fifteen pounds, and generally falling apart for nine months constituted a hard time.

  “Tori mentioned that.”

  Melissa burrowed deeper into her seat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Really? She told you I was depressed?”

  His voice was surprisingly gentle. “No, of course not. All she said was that you’d had a hard go of it.”

  “Things got a little rough,” she admitted. “My family was pretty worried about me. Looking back, I think it was about more than just Mark. I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted out of life, and everything just seemed so hopeless. But all Brit and the others could see was that I was depressed because the guy they’d all warned me about had made a fool out of me.”

  “No one made a fool out of you,” Garth said, his lip curling with disgust. “The guy’s a predator. I hate to say it, but he’s got a terrible reputation. Even I’ve heard the rumors, and that’s saying a lot.”

  Melissa gave him a small, sad smile. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that. I probably knew, deep down, that there was something wrong with him, but honestly, it didn’t matter. I wanted to get away, and he gave me the perfect excuse.” She pictured Brit’s disapproving look when she told him about Mark. “One of my brothers is a little, shall we say, overprotective. The fact that he didn’t like Mark just made it all the better.”

  “You’re talking about the guy Tori ended up with? What’s his name—Brit?”

  She smiled. She was so used to people knowing her brother first, it was downright delightful to have someone say his name with that sound of confusion. “Yep, that’s the one. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think moving to California was my own form of an adolescent rebellion. A misguided attempt to gain some independence. It’s just too bad I let myself get used by a guy like Mark to get there.”

  “Better than dropping out of school and getting pregnant, I suppose.”

  Melissa laughed. “I never thought of it that way, but I suppose you’re right.” Talking about Mark and Brit was giving her the strangest feeling—like she was shedding the burdens of months of self-doubt and pity. A light, relieved sensation bubbled up through her.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Did you go through any rebellion? It’s hard to picture rebelling against Nan.”

  Garth relaxed against the seat, one hand pressing lightly against the steering wheel. “She wasn’t much of an authoritarian, that’s for sure. If anything, it was the pressure of her thinking everything was perfect that got to me the most.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She just assumed I’d be class president, captain of the football team, and a Rhodes scholar. All at the same time.”

  “A little bit of pressure?”

  “I suppose. It made her so happy to see me succeed, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t have any friends, or that the kids at school thought I was odd because I’d rather read a book about computers than go out to parties.” He shrugged self-consciously. “What an absurd thing to complain about.”

  “Make perfect sense to me,” Melissa said. She stared out at the road and tried to imagine Garth in high school. Vaguely, she could imagine him as a tall, skinny adolescent. The smartest kid at the school and probably not the most popular. A far cry from the intense, perfectly controlled persona he now projected.

  Silence stretched between them, and Melissa wondered if he regretted the admission. “This area is so beautiful,” she said, hoping to guide the conversation to more neutral ground. An explosion of colors flanked the road, topped by the deep blue sky of a cloudless New England fall day. “Did you spend a lot of time here when you were a kid?”

  “Mostly over the summers.”

  “With Nan?”

  “With my parents first, and then with Nan.”

  Nice one, nosy.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s okay.” He paused. “My great-grandfather, Nan’s dad, bought Seesaw as a vacation getaway for the family. Nan spent her summers here as a kid, and she brought my mom out every year as well. When I was born, my parents figured they’d continue the tradition. The summer I turned five, they decided to try leaving me with Nan so they could take a vacation. They died in a car accident on the way to the airport.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Melissa sat in silence, unable to even begin to fathom how it must have felt for Garth and Nan to face that kind of loss. “Do you think about them when you come back here?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ve had a lot of time to build new memories of this place. You see, Grandpa Arthur, Nan’s husband, was a doctor and he worked long hours. Nan never really liked the city, so whenever I was out of school she and I came here. She had more of a community in Essex than she did in New York.”

  “Did she ever think about living here full time?”

  “She and Arthur were planning to live here after he retired, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop working. He died of a heart attack a few years ago, and with Nan’s health failing, I convinced her to move to Scarsdale so I could keep an eye on her.”

  “When’s the last time you were back?”

  “It’s been a while. She can’t travel on her own, and I’ve been too busy to bring her.”

  “I see.” Melissa’s heart tugged in her chest. “No wonder she wanted us to come out.”

  Garth nodded, his gaze pinned on the road.

  Funny, all the things a house could mean. Melissa thought about her attachment to her family home in Queens, and then how her apartment in New York, though small and noisy, had been so important for her rebuilding her sense of independence. She pictured five-year-old Garth, trying to make sense of a world without his parents, clinging to the comfort of a place he knew and loved at the same time he’d lost the most important things in his world.