Pamela Macaluso - Christmas Wedding

Red spoke up. “Things have been slow. Go ahead and take an extended lunch.”

“But—”

“I insist.”

Holly shrugged. “All right, then.”

They walked to the door. Jesse held it open for her.

“Where to?” she asked.

“How’s the Coffee Bean?”

The Coffee Bean was a trendy spot specializing in a variety of flavored coffees, espresso, cappuccino and desserts. It was about a mile from the shop. “That’s fine.”

Jesse looked toward where Holly had parked. “Is that your bike?”

“Yes.” She was proud of her purple and silver Harley-Davidson FXR Low Rider.

“That’s a lot of motorcycle for a woman.”

“I’m aware of that, but I can handle it.”

She thought he was going to say more. Instead he helped her into the front seat of the Cherokee, then went around and got into the driver’s seat.

Holly watched him as he drove, his movements controlled and precise. She wondered if he rode his motorcycle that way, too...or if he made love that way.

When the silence got to be too much, she asked, “What is it you wanted to discuss? Tiny’s tattoo?”

Jesse kept his eyes on the road. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss the tattoo or any pending lawsuit without my lawyer present. What I want to talk about is a job offer of sorts.”

She was tempted to point out that she had a job working for her father, but the slim chance that it might be a fashion design job he was talking about kept her quiet.

Their arrival at their destination cut the conversation short, and the subject didn’t come up again until they had been seated and had given their orders to the waitress.

“Now then, Ms. Bryant, how would you like a one-week, all-expenses-paid trip to Lake Wyndham? Plus salary.”

The mention of the exclusive south Florida community, second only to Palm Beach in its wealth and old money status, made Holly suspicious. “Just what would this job entail?”

“Essentially, it’s an acting job.”

“An acting job. Shouldn’t you call a talent agent?”

“Let’s say I’m typecasting.”

“Typecasting? Why would you be looking for someone to play a tattoo artist’s assistant?”

“I’m looking for a woman to play the part of my fiancée for a week.”

She tilted her head to one side. “You think I look like the kind of woman you would marry?” The article she’d glanced at to learn his identity had linked his name with a prominent performance artist, several supermodels and a politician’s daughter.

He paused. “You look like the type of woman my parents would expect me to marry.”

She wanted to ask what kind of parents he had.

Jesse had only seen her in her black leather biker outfits and the hot pink jumpsuit she was wearing today—her work costumes. Would she be dressing this way in Lake Wyndham?

Would her school wardrobe be appropriate, or would she have to dig out some of the clothes she wore on visits to her mother and stepfather? But he said he was typecasting... “If I look the part, I’m assuming I don’t need a new wardrobe for the trip?”

“Everything I’ve seen you in would be fine. If you’d like, though, I’ll throw in a clothing allowance on top of the salary. All I ask is that you don’t pick anything stuffy or conservative.”

Now she was really curious about his parents. She knew anything he’d seen her in would shock most of the Lake Wyndham crowd. “I don’t know. Can I think about this and get back to you?”

He took out a business card. “I’ll put the dates here on the back.” He held the card out to her.

She took it. The tips of her fingers brushed briefly against his. His skin was warm. She wondered what it would feel like to hold hands with him.

If they were pretending to be engaged, wouldn’t there be at least that much, and probably more, physical contact between them? She tucked the card into her pocket. “Just how far does this acting job go? I mean, you’re not expecting me to sleep with you or anything?”

A streak of color highlighted each cheekbone. “Ms. Bryant, I’m offering a legitimate business deal. What you’re suggesting would be illegal.”

And I’ll bet the implication that you might be trying to pay me to have sex with you really ties your boxers in a knot, too. Besides, if he’d just lighten up and smile once in a while he could probably charm his way into any bed he wanted. She was sure he had a killer smile.

The waitress arrived with their coffee. Holly thought she fussed too much over Jesse, making sure his cup was lined up just so. It was the sort of thing a fiancée would notice.

Maybe she could pull it off, even without formal acting experience.

Once the woman left, Jesse continued. “You’ll have your own bedroom and the place has so many servants, you’ll think you’re in a hotel. We’ll need to spend some time together. Engaged couples do that sort of thing, I believe. But I’ll be sure you have time off to pursue your own recreational interests. There are horses, a sailboat, and the beach is about an hour away.”

Holly sipped her coffee. “You make it sound very tempting.”

“Good.”

“Earlier you mentioned a salary?”

He named a figure much higher than what she normally made in a week. With tuition for the next term coming up, she could use the money. And the shop could use some remodeling.

Such a large sum for only a week’s work...if you could call a week of playing “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” work.

The life-style was not completely unknown to Holly. When she was eight, her mother had left her tattoo-artist father and married a successful Florida land developer. Holly had visited them and their four children several times a year. While there, she’d acted and dressed the part of dutiful stepdaughter.

Other than that, she had little to do with them. Although she was certain they would give her money for school and probably for the remodeling, too, if she asked. After high school they’d offered her money to continue her education instead of delaying until she’d saved enough on her own.

Then, as now, she knew her father would have a fit if she took their money. He might frequently be short of the green stuff, but he was long on pride.

“You do make it tempting. But I need to think about this.”

* * *

She looked like the kind of woman his parents would expect him to marry.

What exactly had he meant by that?

Holly’s best friend Ellen worked at the library. The two had been close since elementary school. Holly knew she could trust Ellen not to tell anyone about Jesse’s offer. So she called her and asked her to find information about Jesse, especially anything on his family.

Ellen had a whole stack of things for her when Holly stopped by the library after work. Two hours later, after reading through a number of magazine and newspaper articles, she had the story.

Ultrarich family. Millions made on railroads way back when by enterprising ancestors, now maintained by investments. The family was currently into breeding and training polo ponies.

Instead of blending into the family business and life-style, their eldest child, Jesse, became a motorcycle enthusiast in high school, then went on to study engineering in college. With Rorke O’Neil, he built a prototype motorcycle. They added a third partner, Alex Dalton, and founded Yankee Motorworks.

The family had had a fit. It was bad enough Jesse was working for a living, but to have the Tyler name associated with motorcycles was more than they could stand. It made no difference to them that many rich and famous people were now cruising the roads on two wheels—it was not appropriate for their son. When Jesse persisted, they cut off his trust funds and wrote him out of their wills. Since then they’d had little or no contact with him.