The Fiancee Charade

The watch at his wrist looked as if it was gold, the tie was Italian silk, and the tailored suit he wore had probably cost more than her father’s car.

His clean-shaven good-boy image was corrupted only by the intensity in his stormy blue eyes.

Jess shivered. He looked human, but she knew better. He was the devil in a black dinner suit.

‘I know you’ve had a lot on your plate, what with Dean and all.’ Kath raised a hand, tossing her short black bob back from her face and signalling the barman. ‘But we can’t exactly ignore this. Our company is struggling to stay afloat here.’ She slapped the magazine, her bracelets jangling. ‘And this is disastrous.’

Jess ignored her colleague’s panic, staring at the image in front of her. ‘He’s not as handsome as they all like to make out.’

Kath sighed, sagging against the bar. ‘Why don’t you tell him that?’ She stabbed her finger onto Alexander Calahan’s face, which was smiling seductively up at them. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t hear it often.’

Jess lifted her chin. ‘I could.’

‘Go on, then. This is your chance to tell the King of the ad world exactly what you think of him.’ Kath swept her hand in front of her as though trying to swat a fly. ‘And if at the same time you could knobble him a bit, it would help.’

She should tell the arrogant jerk exactly what she thought of him—but what would it accomplish? He didn’t even know she existed, let alone her and Kath’s little ad company, Kingston and Co, which was struggling to win any attention from a business world with the Calahan empire dominating the marketplace.

Kath ordered a cocktail from the barman and swung to face Jess, her eyes bright. ‘You can’t let him get away with this blatant stunt to pull even more attention for him and his company.’

Jess shook herself. What? There was more to his photo plastered over the highest-selling magazine than selling his company? She swallowed hard, tearing her attention away from his picture to the words below.

‘“Eligible bachelor seeks bride,”’ she read slowly, the words ricocheting around her head like a stray bullet. No. ‘He can’t be serious. He’s selling himself?’

‘Hell, no.’ Kath stabbed at the article on the facing page. ‘This is just a way to brag himself up and pull in more of the women’s advertising out there in the market than he already has.’ Kath shook her head. ‘And ruin us all in the process.’

Jess opened her mouth but couldn’t speak, her blood roaring through her body like molten lava. There was no way she could let him get away with it. Not again. He’d pulled just about all the dirty tricks in the book and she’d had enough.

She jerked to her feet, straightening her taupe suit jacket over her white silk organza waistcoat, her heart thundering in her chest. She flexed her fingers. They had to do something.

Kath slid Jess’s drink across to her other hand. ‘So, what are we going to do? Call a newspaper and try to give them dirt on the guy? Or issue a public challenge to his motives?’

Jess stared at the man in the photo, trying to sort her thoughts out from the tangle of emotions sizzling through her.

What did she want?

She sank back onto the stool, her hands clenched by her sides. She wanted to tie the guy up and steal away his most coveted clients while he was incapacitated—for the guy to get what he deserved and to have the world know what a cunning liar he was.

Kath combed down the stray wisps of hair escaping her bob. ‘Or try for false advertising? There is no way on the planet that man is looking to settle down.’

‘All good ideas,’ Jess said as calmly as she could manage, taking a deep, slow breath, her mind running through the scenarios. She flicked the page, scanning the article. ‘But there’s not much we can do.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re going to take it on the chin again?’ Kath knocked back Jess’s drink and slammed the empty glass down onto the bar. ‘I’m sick of you taking it all and then complaining endlessly about the guy. When are you going to dish it out?’

Jess shook her head. She wasn’t ready to dish it out. She wanted to have his company in tatters at her feet, then stomp on the man himself—grind the last sliver of his ego into the dust with the heel of her Pradas.

Jess stared into the long mirror behind the bar. That could be a while away. Maybe never, the way their luck was going.

She watched the flow of patrons through the foyer behind her. She froze, her heart slamming into her ribs. ‘Isn’t that—?’

Kath swung around on her stool. ‘Yes. He’s here. Alexander Calahan is here,’ she chirped, a manic grin spreading across her face.

‘You knew he’d be here?’ Jess squeaked, her mind tumbling around for the significance.

‘Sure. I figured it was about time you got it all off your chest.’ Kath picked up the mag and waved it in front of Jess. ‘Including this latest blow.’

Jess stared at the reflection of the man. It was really, truly him. The man who had haunted her for years was in the same room as she was, breathing the same air, listening to the same soft background music and about to look at the same menu.

She shook her head, her heart thundering in her chest, her brain trying to absorb her friend’s last words. ‘What? Talk to him?’

Kath held the magazine close to her chest, a smile tugging at her mouth. ‘Give him exactly what he deserves, honey. Vent. Get it off your chest. It’s not healthy to carry that sort of baggage around. What have you got to lose?’

Jess swung around and faced the genuine article. He was deep in conversation with a group of suited men, moving towards the dining area.

He was even cuter in the flesh. His jaw was smooth, his chiselled features made all the more striking by the slight cleft in his chin, and his lips were firm, inviting all sorts of promises…that she had no intention of pursuing.

She swallowed hard. She couldn’t miss the women in the room coyly looking at the man with sickening smiles on their faces.

‘Go on—tell him what you think of him,’ Kath urged from behind her, giving her a shove in the small of her back.

Jess picked up Kath’s drink from the bar, holding it close to her chest. Could she? She took a sip and lifted her chin. Why not?

She stood up and stepped forward, her body tight, her breath stuck in her lungs. Her blood ran hot and fast, like a torrential flow of hot lava, filling her ears, her belly and her cheeks.

Kath had no idea what she was asking of her. No idea how much she’d thought about this moment. No idea how much she wanted to say or how much it meant to her.

But Kath was right. Why not now?

The guy had romanced a leading cosmetic company out of Jess and Kath’s future, showering the executives in champagne and gifts. He’d manoeuvred his way into a women’s magazine article, spouting sincerity and a heart that he could no way own. And now he’d walked into the restaurant she was in, flaunting his success, waving his bankroll and fancy suit in front of her, just begging for a dressing-down and a few home truths.

There was only so much a girl could take.

Jess strode forward, weaving her way through his group towards the man himself, standing resplendent in a tailored Armani suit at the entrance to the dining area.

He was way taller than she’d imagined, or than his photo suggested. She slowed…He had to be at least a good head taller than her, and she was wearing heels.

She lifted her chin. ‘Calahan,’ she bit out as she approached, clenching her fingers on the drink in front of her, fighting to hear herself think over the pounding of her heart in her chest.

What was she doing?

He swung around to face her, his stormy blue eyes meeting hers, catching and holding them.

His presence hit her full force in the chest.

He was incredible…cute…and real.

Jess swallowed hard, narrowing her eyes, forcing herself to take the last few steps. She could understand now why he was so successful with women, despite his obvious flaws in personality.

Calahan broke the link, his gaze drifting down over her—from the large green eyes that she hoped were spitting the fire she felt boiling within her, down past her red lips—held tightly closed, struggling against the barrage of curses wanting to escape—to her office outfit and the curves of her body that she usually liked to be appreciated, and up again.