“What did you say?”
Nick repeated the words slowly, as if that would increase her comprehension. “I’m offering you a job. You’d be my fiancée. Just for the summer.”
Taylor’s heart quickened, and for the briefest of moments she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to be this man’s fiancée. With his classically handsome features, jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, Nick Lanagan epitomized every woman’s dream man.
“Shall we talk salary then?” A satisfied smile creased his lips, and he picked up his pen as if he planned to write out a check.
“No,” she blurted, her voice stiff and unnatural even to her own ears. She realized her hesitation had given him the mistaken impression she was considering his outrageous offer. “Mr. Lanagan—”
Nick leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “First names, Taylor. No one will believe we’re engaged if you’re calling me Mr. Lanagan.”
Irritation surged at the cool confidence reflected in his smile. “Mr. Lanagan, if this is some kind of sick joke, I’m not laughing.”
“Wait a minute.” His blue eyes flashed. “You’re the one who said you needed money.”
“Yes, but I believe I also said I wanted a job.”
“That’s what I’m offering.” His gaze challenged her. “A job for the summer. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“As your paid honey.”
“As my fiancée.”
“Why me? You must have dozens of girls who’d like to play house with you.”
His eyes glinted to steel-gray, and she smiled to herself. Good. She’d gotten under his skin.
“Absolutely. But they might expect more from me than a salary. And a paycheck is all I’m prepared to provide.”
“A paycheck to pose as your fiancée?” She studied him thoughtfully like he was one of her data sheets she was having difficulty deciphering. What the man was proposing made absolutely no sense. She knew she should end the conversation now. But her insatiable curiosity wouldn’t allow it. “Why would a man in your position need to hire a fiancée? And what kind of services would you expect this fiancée to provide?”
“Provide?”
“Don’t give me that innocent look. You know very well what I’m asking. Is sex part of the deal?”
Nick threw back his head and laughed. His lips parted in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth. “No.” He rose and leaned across the desk, “All I’d ask is the pleasure of your company. Maybe a few public kisses. A little hand holding. Nothing more.”
“This is ridiculous. I came here asking for a job. A real job.”
“At least consider my offer.”
Her gaze lingered a moment before she shook her head and rose. “I know I told you I was desperate. And I am, but even desperate has its limits.”
“Aren’t you being a bit hasty? We haven’t even discussed how much this arrangement would be worth to me.”
“No amount of money—”
“Twenty thousand dollars a month.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she grasped the back of the chair for support. That kind of money would make a serious dent in her bills.
A deep, rich fragrance enveloped her, and she looked up. Nick stood beside her, so close she could see the flecks of hazel in his blue eyes. A shiver rippled down her spine.
“This is very important to me,” he said in a husky baritone. “Just think about it.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that more time wouldn’t matter, the answer would still be no. But his closeness drove the words from her lips.
“I don’t—”
“I agree. Now is not the time to decide this.” His hand rested firmly against her back, and he propelled her toward the door. “I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll have dinner. I guarantee I’ll be able to put all your fears to rest.”
Obviously he didn’t realize there was nothing to discuss. Her mind was made up.
“What would dinner hurt?”
She could feel herself weakening, and as if sensing her weakness, he pressed on. “We’ll just talk. Then, if you still decide it’s not for you…”
“It’s not,” she said with more conviction than she felt.
“Give me a chance to change your mind.” He ushered her out of the office. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
She must have nodded, because he smiled that killer smile. He mentioned something about getting her address from Personnel before the door closed softly behind her. Taylor steadied herself against the doorjamb wondering if she’d just lost her mind.
The proposal didn’t make any sense. But then neither did her reaction.
When his gaze had locked on hers and he stood so close she could scarcely catch her breath, for one brief moment, she’d been seriously tempted to throw caution to the wind and say yes.
Nick inhaled the rich aroma of Starbucks’s finest blend, the dark brew steaming hot. Unlike many of the younger secretaries, Miss Dietrich considered keeping him well supplied with coffee part of her job. The woman was definitely an anachronism. A woman who insisted on being called Miss Dietrich instead of the more informal Margaret or the more modern Ms. A woman who steadfastly refused to call him by his first name. She was a top-notch secretary. And she made a terrific cup of coffee.
Nick grabbed the half-empty carafe and upended it over his mug. “So, what do you think of Ms. Rollins?”
Erik Nordstrom took off his glasses, his normally boisterous demeanor strangely subdued. He flipped the frames from one hand to the other. “She’s pretty. Well-educated. Intelligent. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble convincing people she’s your fiancée.”
“But…” Nick’s eyes narrowed, and he forced the rising irritation down. If Erik had reservations, Nick needed to hear them. The trouble was, he’d already made his decision.
Eyeglasses in place, Erik crossed his arms behind his head. “One thing bothers me. She must be desperate for cash to even consider your offer. The question is why?”
Nick snorted. “Probably overextended on her credit cards. That suit she had on certainly didn’t come off the rack. My mother was the same way.”
Despite Taylor Rollins’s reluctance, she’d end up agreeing to his offer. He’d seen the flash of raw hunger when he’d mentioned the twenty thousand dollars.
Erik regarded him with a speculative gaze, and Nick fought to keep his expression impassive. The man knew him all too well. They’d been friends since their freshman year in college.
“The reason doesn’t matter, anyway. This is strictly a business proposition.” Nick’s gaze dared him to disagree.
“You seriously want me to believe you looked at those cat green eyes, those gorgeous legs and those—”
“That’s right.” Nick snapped.
If Erik heard the harshness in Nick’s tone, he ignored it. “Still, you didn’t need to ask her to dinner. You could have worked out the details right in your office.”
Nick shook his head. “She’s a little hesitant. Dinner will provide the right atmosphere. I’ll be charming and the money will do the rest. Remember—as of today—she’s out of work.”
“Which brings up another concern.” Erik’s gaze grew thoughtful. “If she’s as desperate for cash as you say, it may have been a huge mistake offering her this, ah, opportunity. Especially since she’d just been fired.”
Nick rubbed his suddenly tense neck. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking sexual harassment. We may have left ourselves wide open for litigation.”
“Sexual harassment?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it would be easy for a jury to misconstrue your actions.”
Nick sank into the thick leather of his desk chair and raked his fingers through his hair. Here he’d foolishly believed the day couldn’t get any worse. “A lawsuit? That’s all I need.”
He cursed his own impulsiveness, knowing he had no one to blame but himself. Nick punched the intercom. “Miss Dietrich, get me Harvey Rust in Personnel.”
Five minutes later, Taylor’s file lay open on his desk. Her impressive résumé overflowed with the type of experience and credentials Lanagan Associates sorely needed.
What doesn’t make sense is why we let her go.
Erik read the application and résumé over his shoulder. Nick looked up at his friend’s sharp intake of air.
“Uh-oh. That’s a problem.”
Nick frowned and glanced at the records. “What’s the matter?”
Erik’s finger pointed to the name of Taylor’s emergency contact. William Rollins, grandfather.
“Who is he?”
“I can’t believe you don’t recognize the name.” Eric’s expression reflected his surprise.
“I didn’t grow up here, remember? Unlike you, I don’t know everybody and his dog.”
“But that name should be familiar, even to you. ‘Don’t mess around with Bill Rollins’?”
A fierce tightness gripped Nick’s chest. “The judge that retired last year?”
Erik nodded. “Thirty years on the bench. He’s still practicing law, but on a limited basis.”
“I remember now. Didn’t he have a heart attack or something?”
“That’s right. It happened after his son was killed in that big accident on the freeway. His son was Senator Robert Rollins. Don’t even try to tell me you don’t remember him. His death made the wire services from coast to coast.” Erik took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “This couldn’t get much worse.”
“You don’t think—”
Erik’s nod confirmed his fears. “I do think we may have just delivered Judge Rollins a case he can’t resist. And a case he can’t lose.”
Taylor took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Ever since she left the office, her mind had been as tangled and chaotic as her wind-whipped hair.
One moment she was headed home, the top of her convertible down, her favorite radio station blaring full blast. The next, she stood on her grandparents’ steps, her knuckle poised against the six-panel door.
What had propelled her to her Nana and Grandpa Bill’s clapboard colonial rather than her own modern town house? She hesitated, tempted to slip away while she still had time, when the door abruptly opened.
Her grandmother, half out the door before she saw Taylor, halted midstep and grabbed the door frame to steady her balance. “Honey, you startled me. I thought you were at work.”
“I got off early.” Her insides were like a mass of quivering Jell-O, but Taylor was amazed at how calm she sounded. “If you’re busy—”
“Nonsense, my dear. I’m delighted to see you.”
She wrapped her arm firmly about Taylor’s shoulders and gave the younger woman no choice but to be led into the foyer. “I’m just going to run out and get the mail. Your grandpa’s expecting an important letter. Lunch will be on the table in a few minutes. Of course, you’ll join us?”
Taylor couldn’t help but smile. From the time she could walk, Nana had been consistent in her approach to life’s problems. It didn’t matter what the question or the concern, a little slice of one of her gourmet creations would make it better. It’s a wonder they didn’t all weigh three hundred pounds! Thankfully, her family seemed to be blessed with a high metabolism. She surveyed her grandmother’s trim form out of the corner of her eye. At five feet six inches, Nana never weighed more than one hundred and twenty-five pounds. Despite her silver hair, her trim figure clad in the latest style made her look much younger than her seventy-plus years.
Taylor shifted her gaze to the den. Her grandfather sat hunched over the honey-colored oak desk that had come home with him after his retirement, totally immersed in a thick law book. Like a Norman Rockwell painting, the scene tugged at her heartstrings.
The click-clack of her heels on the hardwood floor must have alerted him. He looked up, and a fond smile lit his still-handsome features. “Taylor. This is a pleasant surprise. Come and give your grandpa a big hug.”
His strong arms encircled her, and Taylor said a quiet prayer of thanks. Losing her parents had been almost more than she could bear. If she had lost him… She pushed the thought from her mind and hugged his lean frame extra hard.
“You’re looking good.” She pulled away and held him at arm’s length. He reminded her so much of her father. The same nose, the same strong features. Only her father’s hair had been dark brown, while Grandpa Bill’s chestnut strands were peppered with silver.
“He needs to take it easy if he wants to stay looking that way.” Nana said from the doorway, a bundle of letters in one hand.
“Oh, Kaye.” Grandpa Bill rolled his eyes.
“You already had one heart attack. I don’t want you to have another.”
Taylor frowned. “Have you been having more chest pain?”
“No.”
“Yes.” Nana looked at her husband sternly. “Tell Taylor the truth, Bill.”
“Okay, maybe a little now and again. But—” he pulled a small medicine container from his shirt pocket “—the nitro takes care of it right away.”
“What does your cardiologist say?” Taylor tried unsuccessfully to keep the anxiety from her voice.
“The doctors say he needs to slow down and not let everything bother him so much.” Nana’s words were clearly as much for her husband’s benefit as for Taylor’s.
“Once this case is completed—”
Taylor looked at them questioningly.
“Bill’s doing some legal work for a friend. It wasn’t supposed to take much time, but—”
“It’s almost over, Kaye. Then I’ll have time to relax, maybe golf more.” He turned to Taylor as if eager to get the focus off himself. “How about you, sweetheart? Been out playing lately?”
“I’ve been too busy. I think I’ve only played eighteen a couple times this year.”
“I can’t imagine what the two of you see in that game.” Nana shook her head. “Bill, why don’t you and Taylor relax in the living room? I’m going to put the mail away and then I’ll make us all some iced tea.”
“Sounds good to me,” Taylor said.
“My dear.” Grandpa Bill crooked his arm, and Taylor took it. They walked to the living room arm in arm. “I remember when we couldn’t get you off the links. That new job must be taking up a lot of time. Or perhaps it’s not the job. Maybe it’s a young man?”
The image of Nick flashed in her mind, and Taylor’s face warmed. She forced her attention to her grandfather, noticing the lines of fatigue around his eyes and mouth.
If only man troubles were all she had to worry about. She forced herself to breathe past the sudden tightness in her chest.
“Grandpa Bill—” She stopped, not sure what to say.
“Taylor, is something wrong?” A frown marred his worn face.
Did his complexion suddenly seem more ashen? Her breath caught in her throat. “No, no, everything is going great.”
His brows drew together, and his eyes filled with concern. “Princess, you can tell me.”
She met his gaze head-on and forced a bright smile. “Everything’s just great.”
“That’s the second time you said that, and I don’t believe it for a minute. Something’s bothering my girl. I can tell.” He pulled her to the couch and made her sit down. His large hand, so like her father’s, gently cradled hers. “You just remember, your grandmother and I are always here for you.”
She cuddled next to him like she used to when she’d been a little girl. Her head leaned against his shoulder, and his hand lightly stroked her hair. The familiar loving gesture brought tears to her eyes.
“Oh, Grandpa Bill. You’re right. It is a man.” Her frustrations centered on a man, all right. One man. Nicholas Lanagan III.
A twinkle returned to her grandfather’s eyes, and a more reassuring color returned to his face. “I thought as much. Who is he? How long have you been seeing him?”
“Whoa. Hold it a minute, counselor.” Taylor jerked upright and realized he’d completely misunderstood.
“What’s going on in here?” Nana strode into the room, a silver tray with a pitcher of tea and three glasses balanced in her hands.
“Taylor’s got a new boyfriend. And I’ve got a hunch it’s serious.”
A flash of joy erased the worry on Nana’s face. She hurried across the room, setting the tray on the credenza, the tea forgotten. “Back up. I want to hear all about him. How you met. How long you’ve been dating. Don’t leave out any details.”
Taylor groaned and stalled for time. “What about the iced tea?”
“It can wait.” Nana’s eyes sparkled.
The love on their faces shone as bright as the afternoon sun, and at that moment Taylor knew she would do anything to spare these two people more hurt. Even if it meant telling a little white lie. Or two. She took a deep breath. “We’ve been seeing each other casually for some time. It’s getting kind of serious.”
“Enough of the mystery,” Nana said. “Who is he?”
“Do we know him? Does he golf?” Bill added.
Taylor laughed and patted his hand. “You’re just looking for someone to round out your foursome.”
A brief flash of sorrow skittered across her grandfather’s face, and guilt stabbed Taylor. Her father’s death had left that slot vacant.
Grandpa Bill seemed to force a smile to his face. “All I want—” he grabbed his wife’s hand “—all we want is to see you happy. And if this man makes you happy—”
“I think he can, Grandpa Bill. I really think he can.” The lies slipped off her tongue so naturally she could almost believe them herself. Taylor paused. She’d nearly passed the point of no return.
Could she do it? Accept an engagement to a man she didn’t know? Even for a summer? Her belief in love, commitment and the sanctity of marriage hadn’t changed. But love, commitment and the sanctity of marriage didn’t enter into this arrangement. After all, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t actually be getting married, and even real engagements often were broken. What harm would there be if she agreed to Lanagan’s deal? What would happen if she didn’t? For a long moment she studied her grandparents, then cast her eyes heaven-ward.
Dear God, is this really part of your plan?