Fiancé for the Night: Chapter Six

Fiancé for the Night: Chapter Six

The smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled Cassandra’s nose. She stretched her arms over her head and then slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight peeked through the blinds. Unbelievably, she felt well rested.

That surprised her.

With Troy only a few feet away, wearing a pair of gray athletic shorts and no shirt, she couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep. But she had and dreamed of a man with brown hair. A surprisingly romantic dream, full of long glances and slow kisses.

But she knew better than most that dreams didn’t come true.

Still, she kept wishing on stars and blowing out candles, just in case. Hoping for the best didn’t hurt. And if today went as well as last night, tomorrow she would be able to say goodbye to her fiancé for the weekend. She wiggled her toes in anticipation.

Smiling, she glanced over at Troy.

His bed was not only empty but had also been made.

Oh, no. Troy and her parents.

Alone.

Panicked, Cassandra bolted upright. She gripped the edge of the comforter. One tiny foul up and her intelligent parents would figure out the engagement was a scam. The whole fake fiancé ruse would blow up in her face.

She could handle the consequences, but what about Troy? Just because she’d made a mess of her life didn’t mean she needed to wreck his, too.

Cassandra jumped out of bed and raced for the door. Halfway down the hall, she skidded to a stop.

Pants. She needed pants.

Running to her room, Cassandra saw a pair of gray shorts on Troy’s bed. She tossed them on, pulling the drawstring tight so they wouldn’t fall off.

Let me get there in time. Please.

Cassandra ran down the stairs.

Voices sounded in the kitchen.

Heart pounding, she picked up the pace.

Her mother, her father, and Troy.

What a nightmare!

As she entered the kitchen, she crossed her fingers behind her back. Sunlight streamed through the windows. Everything looked bright and cheery. She hoped that was a good sign.

Her mother stood at the counter while her father and Troy sat at the table in the breakfast nook.

“Good morning,” Cassandra said.

Troy’s royal-blue polo shirt intensified the color of his eyes. The power of his gaze took her breath away. Her pulse sped up.

“Good morning, Cassandra.” Her mother closed the waffle iron and wiped her hands on the front of a yellow apron. “You’re up early.”

Cassandra glanced at the microwave clock. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty,” her father said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Couldn’t you sleep, Cassie?”

She combed her fingers through her messy hair. “No sense sleeping the day away, Dad.”

He laughed. “Troy, you must be a good influence. When Cassie was a teenager, she never woke up until noon.”

Troy’s smile showed off his straight, white teeth. “Nine o’clock seems to be her usual time now.”

Wait, what? How did he know what time she got up?

He picked up his mug and drank.

Cassandra found herself staring at him again.

She frowned. Why was she having such a difficult time not looking at him?

His hair, of course. Troy’s damp waves begged to be touched. That had to be the reason.

“Did you sleep well, beautiful?” Troy asked.

He’d called her beautiful. Not that he meant it, but her pulse kicked up a notch. “Yes, so well I didn’t hear you get up.”

“I tried to be quiet. Looks like I succeeded.”

Cassandra ignored his playful tone. “Yes, you did.”

She had been too busy dreaming about him.

She should have asked someone else to be her fiancé instead. Troy was too gorgeous for his own good. And hers, too.

“You said good morning to me,” Troy said.

“I did?”

Cassandra couldn’t remember. She hadn’t made a pass at him, had she? No, she hadn’t. She didn’t sleepwalk or anything as far as she knew.

Nodding, Troy set his coffee cup on the table. “Come over here, so I can say good morning properly.”

Cassandra blushed.

Her parents’ pleased glances matched their wide smiles. They thought she and Troy were a couple. She should be happy, but she couldn’t quite relax.

As she walked toward Troy, her heartbeat resembled a drum roll.

This is an act. This isn’t real.

She repeated the mantra in her mind.

Troy pulled her onto his lap. He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“You look cute in my clothes.” He winked and then kissed her.

His mouth was warm. He tasted like French roast coffee and something else she couldn’t define. His kiss was softer than she expected—a little tentative but sweet, too.

He pulled away.

Too soon.

As his lips hovered near hers, his breath fanned her mouth like a soft feather.

The tingles on her lips spread through her. Cassandra wanted more.

“Good morning, my love.” Leaning back, Troy broke the spell.

She blinked. He’d mesmerized her. But none of this was for real.

The kissing had been an act. A visual effect like the sound effects he’d mentioned last night. Her body, however, seemed to be unclear of the point. Every nerve ending pulsated with sensation and electricity. Goose bumps covered her legs and arms.

The kitchen must be cold.

Except she wasn’t cold. She felt downright feverish. That must be from the heat radiating from Troy’s body. Men were always warm.

Maybe some distance would help. She scooted to the empty chair next to Troy. He placed his arm around her shoulder.

Be careful. Be very careful.

Her mother set a plate with a steaming Belgian waffle in front of Troy. “Would you like strawberries and whipped cream?”

“No, thanks.” He removed his arm from Cassandra’s shoulder and placed his napkin on his lap. “Butter and syrup are fine.”

“Want a cup of coffee, Cassie?” her dad asked.

Iced coffee would cool her down, but she nixed the idea. She needed to keep everything as normal as possible. “I’d love a cup.”

Dixon filled her mug and then added a dash of

m

i

lk

and sugar, which was how she liked it.

“Thanks, Dad.” Cassandra took a sip. The coffee tasted like Troy. And his kiss. Something she didn’t want to think about during breakfast.

Or ever.

You haven’t been kissed in over a year. That’s all. After Eric, you didn’t like being kissed. Forget Troy’s kiss.

Cassandra set her cup on the table.

Her mother placed a plate in front of her. “Here’s your waffle, sweetheart.”

The waffle was piled high with strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Her favorite breakfast dish looked delicious. So how come she would rather have another taste of Troy instead? “Thanks, Mom.”

Troy raised an eyebrow. “You like chocolate sauce on your waffles?”

“Yes,” she said. “Among other things.”

“I like peanut butter and syrup on French toast,” he said.

“So does Cassie.” Her dad smiled as if he’d made another million. “Vanessa, did you hear that? They both like peanut butter on their French toast.”

Her father sounded pleased, but liking peanut butter and syrup wasn’t a strong enough foundation to build a relationship on. She and Troy were unsuited for each other. He wore Italian silk suits and leather shoes, while she wore one-hundred-percent cotton and preferred going barefoot. He worked to make money—she worked to enjoy her passion—books. She could list other examples.

They had nothing in common.

As soon as they stopped pretending to like each other, their differences would be crystal clear to both of her parents. Peanut butter and syrup aside.

As Cassandra took a bite of her waffle, she paid closer attention to her parents to keep from focusing on Troy. Her mother seemed to be comfortable cooking once again. Her father wore his golf attire—a purple shirt, an argyle sweater, and green pants.

“What’s your tee time, Dad?” she asked.

“Nine o’clock.” He leaned against his chair. “Troy and I are having lunch at the lodge after we finish.”

Daddy and Troy.

Alone.

No way.

She couldn’t let them go without her.

If Troy said the wrong thing and her dad discovered the truth, this weekend could backfire. Troy’s career would be ruined, and she would have to put up with her parents’ endless advice and matchmaking. Or worse, what if her father believed they were as perfect a couple as they pretended to be?

No. No. No.

Her father needed to see her and Troy together. That was the only way for her dad to understand why they shouldn’t get married or be upset when they “broke up.”

“Mind if I join you?” Cassandra flashed her cutest smile at her father—a grin that had been fail-safe when she was growing up.

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time I took you to the course?” Her dad laughed. “Troy, whatever you do, don’t let Cassie play golf. She loses too many balls.”

So much for being cute.

“The balls are small, and I don’t understand why there are so many ponds and sand traps between the holes.” Why anyone would pay all that money and suffer so much frustration was beyond her.

Time for a new tactic. “I won’t play, but let me drive the cart.”

“No,” her father said.

She slapped her palm against the table. “I’m a good driver.”

Her dad shook his head. “You don’t own a car, Cassie.”

She glanced at Troy, willing him to help her.

He shrugged.

What kind of a fiancé was he? She would have to talk to him about what was expected.

“I’ll caddy.” Unwilling to give up without a fight, she studied her fork as if the tines would provide inspiration. “I’m good with numbers. I can keep score.”

Her father narrowed his eyes.

She ran the risk of ruining her own plans with her good intentions. Her dad would see right through her. She hated golf. Her family knew that.

“Honey, I know you want to be with Troy, but your mother has a special day planned for you. It’s been months since you’ve been here.” Her father’s tone softened. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?”

The expectant look in her mother’s eyes hit Cassandra like a stack of George R.R. Martin hardcovers falling from a top shelf at her store. Guilt followed. Her mouth felt as if it were coated in sand.

She didn’t want to hurt her mom, but how far was Cassandra willing to go with this ruse? She’d created a fictional fiancé to stop her parents’ meddling. She’d brought home her pseudo fiancé. What came next? A pretend wedding? Or worse, a real one?

She fought the urge to grimace and forced a smile instead. “No, I’m sure Mom and I will have a wonderful time.”

“Oh, we will.” Her mother’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Just like the last time.”

Cassandra remembered spending a day at a trendy spa, aka the beauty salon from hell. She’d spent hours convincing a hairdresser named Jean-Paul that she not only liked the length of her hair, but she also liked the color, too.

Clenching her fork, she kept smiling. “What are we going to do?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “It’s a surprise, but we’re going to have so much fun. Just wait.”

Cassandra suppressed a groan.

More likely, she would hate whatever was planned. Her mother and Emily had a different definition of fun. Being primped and pampered didn’t appeal to Cassandra.

Not that she had a choice today.

Cassandra bit into a forkful of her waffle. She was tough. She was resilient. If Jean-Paul and her hair weren’t involved, she could handle anything.

At least, she hoped so.

♥ ♥ ♥

After breakfast, Troy stepped into the bedroom and then stopped. He’d thought Cassie would have been showered and dressed by the time he finished eating another waffle.

He’d been wrong.

Dead wrong.

His muscles bunched.

Cassie stood in the middle of the room. She wore a dark flower-print dress. A feminine pattern and style that looked good on her. The only problem—her fingers fumbled with the zipper. A black bra contrasted against white skin.

He stiffened. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“You don’t have to go.” She faced him. “I want to talk to you.”

Talk? How about another kiss?

No, that wouldn’t be right. Except he wanted to kiss her.

She’d looked cuddly, sexy, and sleep-rumpled in his clothes, when she appeared for breakfast. She looked downright beautiful now.

Focus.

“Do you need help?”

“Help? Now you offer help.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I needed your help downstairs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I wanted you to convince my father that I should go golfing with you.” She struggled with the zipper again. “But you said nothing, nada, zilch.”

“What did you want me to say? Let Cassie drive the cart?” Troy touched her hand. “You’re going to ruin your dress. Let me try.”

Cassie lifted her single braid—a thick, golden plait that made him think of Rapunzel.

As he reached for the zipper, his hand brushed against her back. Her skin was warm.

She tensed. That caused him to do the same.

Man, this wasn’t good.

Whatever chemistry existed between them, Cassie felt it, too.

Knowing that didn’t help. Troy ignored the graceful curve of her neck and the softness of her skin. The zipper was stuck on the edge of the fabric. He tugged until he freed the teeth, zipped up the dress, and let go.

“All done,” he said. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“Thanks, but we need to talk.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Couldn’t you tell I wanted to go golfing?”

“Yes, but…” He hesitated because she wouldn’t like the truth.

“But—”

“I didn’t want you to go with us.”

“What?”

“Not so loud,” he said, worried Dixon might hear through the so-called thin walls.

“Why didn’t you want me to go?”

“Things are going well.”

“Things are not going well. Did you see the starry look in my parents’ eyes?”

He nodded. “They were smiling so much I thought I was in the middle of a toothpaste commercial. They think we’re the perfect couple.”

“Exactly.” Cassie sounded annoyed. “See the problem?”

“I don’t,” Troy said. “We decided to act like an engaged couple. You get your parents off your back. I get my partnership.”

“Engaged couple, yes.” Cassie plopped on her bed. “But not soul mates destined to be together forever.”

“You’re overreacting. We’ve been here a little over twelve hours. Your parents can’t believe we’re destined to be together forever in such a short time.”

“I think they do.” Cassandra tapped her bare foot against the floor. “If we don’t stop our happy-couple routine, I’ll have to live the rest of my life hearing about Troy McKnight—the other one who got away.”

The other one?

He hoped she didn’t mean Eric. Troy wouldn’t ask given the pained expression on Cassie’s face. “It won’t be that bad.”

“You don’t know my parents.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with golfing.”

“Men.” She glanced at the ceiling. “The more time we spend together, the easier it will be for my parents to see we shouldn’t be engaged.”

No way. He had too much riding on this weekend to reverse tactics. “We decided to act like an engaged couple while we’re here. We were going to worry about breaking up later. We can’t change our plans now.”

Her jaw tensed. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said?”

He didn’t know why she was taking this so seriously. Granted, she wanted to stop her parents’ matchmaking attempts, but she was too emotional and involved, enough so she wasn’t seeing the situation clearly. “I heard you, but I disagree.”

“You’re not going to convince my father to let me come with you.”

“No, you’re going to go out with your mother and enjoy yourself.” Troy wished Cassie would smile, but she looked mad at the world. Well, him. “I want to spend time with your father. Alone, if possible. Yes, that’s selfish, but he’s a great contact to have, and I might learn tricks of the trade. Maybe he can teach me some things that will ensure my partnership.”

“I should have known.” She rubbed her forehead. “All you care about is how this affects you and your career.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” Cassie narrowed her eyes. “You can’t do anything to risk your precious partnership.”

“I’ve never hidden my reasons for wanting to be here this weekend.”

Silence.

“Listen, Cassie. Your parents don’t need us to show them we aren’t the perfect couple. Just look at the two of us. It’s obvious we don’t belong together.”

She raised her chin. “I’ll say it’s obvious. Two people couldn’t be more different. You’re much too conservative for me.”

“You’re too spontaneous for me.”

“At least I wouldn’t use anybody and anything to get ahead.”

“Hey.” Her words bristled. He didn’t like her putting this all on him. “This fake engagement wasn’t my idea. You approached me. I’m making the best of the situation. You need to do the same.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

Her lips pressed together. The glance she shot him wasn’t full of daggers but missiles. She’d been upset before, but this felt different.

“What’s the problem?” Troy didn’t get why she was acting this way. “You’re Ms. Spontaneous, or so you claim. Just roll with it.”

She frowned. “Thanks for the advice, Mr. Rigid.”

“I’m not rigid.”

“I bet you have a plan to get you where you want to be.”

Troy did—his master plan. And it was working. Or it had been. Slowly. Until he met Cassie.

“Let me guess. A partnership at thirty,” she said. “Your first million by thirty-two. Retirement at thirty-five.”

“Forty.” She had guessed the milestones but missed the ages by a few years.

“Where does happiness play into your plan?” she asked.

“When I succeed, I’ll be happy.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “You really are just like…”

Her father, Troy hoped. “Who?”

“Eric.”

That wasn’t what Troy wanted to hear, but that was one more reason they were so wrong for each other.