Trish Wylie - One Summer In New York

“Hot and sour soup.” Feng placed the steaming bowl on the table. While he ladled out two servings he questioned, “May I ask if Mrs. Louise is feeling better?”

His aunt Louise had been in New York several times in the past few months. Feng had probably seen her more recently than Ethan had.

“Was she unwell when she was last here?”

The waiter pursed his lips and bowed his head, which said more than any words could.

Ethan’s heart sank. This validated the fact that he was on the right track. Doing whatever it took to get Aunt Louise to retire and relax in Barbados before worse things than stumbles and bruises stole her dignity.

It was all going to work out.

As long as Ethan continued to stare past but not into Holly Motta’s face. Because when he did steal a glance she didn’t look like a business proposition. Or a gold-digger out to get what she deemed hers. With that slouch she kept correcting, and that milky skin, and the hint of ache in her eyes...

No, she was a living, breathing, kindred spirit who could shred his master plan into a million slices if he wasn’t careful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked with her spoon in the air.

“Like what?” Ethan threw back his head with an exaggerated nonchalance.

She gave him a mock frown.

“Eat your soup,” he told her.

One very ungenteel slurp later... “Yummo!”

“We should learn more about each other if we are to be convincing as a couple. You clearly like food.”

He mocked her slurp until they were both laughing.

“My turn,” she said. “You’re an only child.”

“You have one brother.”

“You studied at Oxford.”

“What is your favorite movie?”

Holly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Are you kidding me? If we’re going to get to know each other we have to get real. What is the one thing that has hurt you the most in your life?”

His mother. Of course it was his mother. Nothing could devastate a nine-year-old boy more than being left behind by his mother. It was horrible enough that his father had died instantly when a drunk driver had plowed into his car at racing speed, killing him instantly. But then shortly after that to lose his mother in the way he had... It was unthinkable.

“Beef with snow peas. Shrimp chow mein. Chef’s special duck,” Feng announced as he and another waiter positioned the platters in the center of the table. “Please enjoy.”

Saved by the duck.

Ethan wasn’t going to expose his darkness and despair to someone he’d met only yesterday. As a matter of fact he wasn’t in the habit of talking about his feelings with anyone. It was better that way.

He scooped a portion of each dish onto his and Holly’s plates.

But wasn’t it rather amazing that this woman was so genuine she didn’t want to discuss trivial matters?

As she lifted her chopsticks to grab at her chow mein he admired the diamond ring he had put on her finger. It was staggering in its size and clarity, and he knew any woman would be filled with pride to wear something so timeless and flawless.

Yet he could kick himself because he hadn’t bought her the blue topaz ring she had admired at the store!

Quick thinking had told him to buy the type of ring that was expected of him. Anything other than a traditional diamond engagement ring would invite inquiry. Such as where and why and what sentiments had inspired him to buy such an unusual ring. Those were extra questions they didn’t need. It would just add to the risk of them flubbing up as a believable couple.

But now he thought blue ring, purple ring, green ring—what would it matter if that was what she wanted?

Pulsing and vibrant, Holly Motta had careened into his apartment with blue paint on her face and, he feared, had changed his life forever. Forcing him to think about women differently than he ever had. Making him for the first time vaguely envision a role in which he cared if someone was happy. Edging him into speculation about what it would be like if someone cared about his happiness, too.

And now she was making it hard to concentrate on anything other than leaping across the table and planting a kiss on that sweet mouth that was busy with noodles.

After a bite of food to steady himself, Ethan resumed their interview. “Tell me something about yourself that I would not have guessed.”

“I used to be—” she blurted, and then abruptly stopped herself. She put her chopsticks down and took a slow sip of her tea. Trying to recover, she finished with, “A pretty good softball player.”

Aha, so it wasn’t as easy for her to be as open and candid as she wanted him to believe it was. What had she been about to say that had proved too difficult to reveal? And what had she avoided telling him at breakfast that morning about the mother she’d characterized as unpredictable?

He’d gone along with her easy sincerity, but Ethan really didn’t know the first thing about her. He’d garnered that she’d had a difficult childhood, but it wasn’t like him to take anyone at face value. Not after what he’d seen of life.

Guard and defend.

He had his family’s empire to protect.

“Excuse me,” he said as he put his chopsticks down and pulled out his phone. “I have just remembered one more bit of business for the day.”

He texted Chip Foley, Benton Worldwide’s Head of Security. Just as he’d intended to do if he’d hired an actress for the fiancée job.

Chip, please run everything you can on a Holly Motta from Fort Pierce, Florida. Claims her occupation is artist. I would place her age at about thirty. Tall, slim, blue eyes, black hair. She says her brother Vince works for us in Miami. I do not know if it is the same last name. Do an across-the-board check on her for me.

After hitting the “send” button, his eyes returned to Holly.

She pointed her chopsticks at him and taunted, “Hey, you never told me what it was in your life that hurt you the most.”

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS THE dead of night, but Holly could still hear New York outside the bedroom window. Cars drove by. A dog barked. People laughed boisterously on the street.

The city that never slept.

Lying in Ethan’s bed, with her head sinking into his soft pillows, she could hardly make sense of the day. Visiting Soho galleries, buying all those art supplies, a new wardrobe, a diamond ring... Then that dinner in Chinatown.

She’d lived a lifetime in the last twenty-four hours.

Ethan was just beyond the door in the living room. Was he sleeping? Was he working? Or was he lying awake thinking about her as she was of him?

Of course not, Holly reminded herself. Ethan Benton had more important things on his mind then his wife for hire. She’d better remember that.

But when they’d watched each other’s faces at the restaurant it had seemed as if maybe she would, in fact, linger in his thoughts and keep him up at night. He’d looked at her as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. The restaurant might have been crowded and clamoring, but he’d never taken his eyes off her.

Through most of the evening they would have convinced anyone they were an engaged couple. Finishing each other’s sentences... Digging their chopsticks into each other’s plates...

And then there had been those awkward moments when they’d asked each other questions neither was ready to answer.

Holly hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Ethan that she had been married. She feared he would think of her as a used product and not want to go through with their agreement. He didn’t need to know about her mistake in marrying someone who hadn’t loved her for who she was. Who hadn’t supported the person she wanted to become. Ricky Dowd wasn’t a name that ever needed to come up in conversation.