DeAnna Talcott - Fill-In Fiancee

“Sunny? What kind of name is Sunny?” his brother pressed.

“Hers. Solely, uniquely hers.” Brett shook his head and flapped a hand at Sunny. He didn’t want her to run out the door without an explanation. “I’ll be done in a moment,” he mouthed. “Look, explain to Mother and Father about this, will you, Phillip?” he said, raising his voice. “I mean, they’re going to find out anyway, and it would probably be best coming from you.”

Phillip chuckled. “I expect I’ll need to tell them to book a hotel, too. Under the circumstances.”

“Do that,” Brett agreed.

They said their goodbyes, but Brett’s gaze was fixed on Sunny the entire time. She was rooted to the spot, and her eyes were huge. There was barely any color in her face save for a spot of red staining each cheek. Her chin was raised at a defiant angle, and her shoulders straightened, stretching the sheer fabric of her blouse and making the tiny buttons between her breasts shift.

Uh-oh. He may have gotten away with it with his brother, but he wasn’t going to get away with it with her.

Brett carefully placed the phone back on the hook and set his hand on the file folders. He tapped them impatiently. “Thank you for dropping these off, Sunny—”

“It’s my job,” she emphasized.

“And about this other little thing…I’m in a bit of a fix.” He waited for her reaction. There was none. “So…since you were in here, I thought you could help me out.”

“Your brother said—if I heard him correctly—that we were living together?”

Brett rose up out of his chair slowly, so as not to alarm Sunny. “Now, there’s the thing. We could, actually. If you wanted to.”

Sunny’s curvaceous lips parted and her jaw slowly dropped.

Before she could protest, he quickly came around the desk and added, “My parents are pushing me to wed a woman I simply don’t love, you see. A nice woman, a nice family, nice connections, nice everything. Too nice, too convenient and too unfeeling. I made up this story about my girlfriend in Boston—and then, when that worked, I embellished it. To the part where we’re living together.”

“Embellished?” she repeated.

“I had to. No other choice, really.” He threw up his hands. “My parents are coming for a visit. And they’re threatening to bring Lady Harriet.”

“Oh, my.” One of Sunny’s exquisitely arched eyebrows rose slightly, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.

Brett sighed heavily and glanced at the open door. He moved toward it. “There are some things you don’t know about me, Sunny.” He quietly closed the door. “None of them bad,” he assured her quickly. “Actually, I’ve had a great life, and my parents are good people. But they’re not…average people.”

Sunny’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Say it, Mr. Hamilton.”

“There. Right there. That’s the thing. In England, my friends know me as—” he cleared his throat before continuing “—Lord Breton Hamilton, son of Lord Arthur and Lady Miriam Hamilton. I regret to say it, but my family is titled.” He uttered the last four words as if they were an extraordinary burden.

Sunny didn’t move a muscle, not one. There was not so much as a wiggle of her lips or a flicker of an eyelash. “So you’re rich,” she said finally.

He shrugged. “I won’t be, not if I’m disinherited, as they threaten.”

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with me blowing your brother kisses, or why we’re living together.”

The way she said it gave him a glimmer of hope. She hadn’t dashed cold water on all his outlandish plans. And those plans were just beginning to take shape—with her help.

“Sunny, sit down. Please.” He pulled up an overstuffed chair for her, then sat in the one opposite it. “I’ll try to explain it all, but it’s complicated. And the truth is I’d rather just be me. Brett Hamilton. I haven’t told anyone over here about my heritage because I don’t really want anyone to know.”

“You’re asking me to keep your secret.”

“If you would.”

Sunny offered up a half laugh, as if the situation was beyond ludicrous. “I’m not going to go running up and down the halls, claiming to know that Brett Hamilton is an English lord. Who would believe me?”

“Thank you.” He impulsively reached for her hand, but just as quickly reined himself in. It would not do to become familiar with Sunny, not under the circumstances. “Along with my title comes some responsibilities. My brother called because he’s just learned that the doctor predicts they are having their fourth girl. It doesn’t matter to my brother and his wife, but my parents really wanted an heir. A child to inherit and carry on the family name.”

“Ah, one of those archaic, gender-oriented issues.”

A jolt of pleasure rose in Brett. Maybe this woman shared his beliefs. “Exactly. They are pressuring me to marry—and they’ve pretty much selected my future wife. Lady Harriet. The woman has it all—the family, the title, the connections. It would be a match—but one without any spark. And I really want that in a relationship.”

Brett noticed Sunny’s eyes visibly soften. Apparently he’d said something that struck a nerve.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he continued. “I told my brother I had a girlfriend, and I then I made it worse by telling him that we lived together.” Sunny rolled her eyes, her eyelids fluttering in disbelief. “You came into the room, and I said your name without thinking. I didn’t mean to. You were just there, and it happened. Look, the stage is set. Unthinkingly on my part, but set just the same. Would you consider pretending to be my girlfriend, just while my parents visit?”

Sunny hesitated. “You want me to make nice with your parents for an evening or two.”

“Well…” He lifted a persuasive shoulder. “Maybe more than that. I told them we were engaged.”

She groaned. “Oh, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Brett,” he said quickly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I know, luv. It is. But the calendar won’t wait. They’re coming next week. Just pose as my girlfriend. We’ll say we’re engaged, and you can move in and we’ll make it look as if we’re living together.”

Sunny stared at him. Then she yanked her short skirt down to just above her knees and held it there with the heel of her hand. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I walked down the hall to drop off file folders, not move in with you.”

“Sunny, I’ve got a two-bedroom flat—I mean apartment. You’d have your own room. And while my parents are here, we’d have a grand time, I’d see to it. Granted, the idea is preposterous, but everything else would be aboveboard and innocent. I promise.”

Sunny looked at Brett and thought the man had lost his mind, but one phrase echoed in her head: two-bedroom apartment. Since her wandering, homeless parents had moved in with her, she was in a quandary. There wasn’t enough room for all of them and she didn’t have the heart to insist they find somewhere else to light. “Let me get this straight. You have a two-bedroom apartment?” she asked.

“I know it’s small,” Brett said apologetically. “The three bedroom wasn’t available.”

His response was so quick it had to be genuine. Brett had a reputation at Wintersoft of being easygoing and amicable. He typically looked like he didn’t have a care in the world—but now he looked worried, almost trapped. That bothered her, even as she guessed at the monthly rent on his apartment. “And this apartment of yours is located where?” Sunny asked. “Because if it’s all the way on the other side of Boston—”

“At that big complex Lloyd always recommends to all his new employees. The Liberty Tree Apartments.”