Judy Christenberry - Rent A Millionaire Groom

“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.”

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.”