A Pretend Proposal: The Fiancée Fiasco / Faking It to Making It / The Wedding Must Go On

Recalling how Elizabeth had disagreed with him the one time he’d called her pretty, Thomas half expected her to do so now. He told himself he only was forestalling her argument when he leaned over and, in a voice barely above a whisper, said, “I like it this way because it reminds me of how it looked after I had my hands in it the other night.”

He was close enough to hear her breath hitch. He was smug enough to like it. He decided to press his advantage—for Nana Jo’s benefit, of course—and kissed the corner of Elizabeth’s mouth. Both women sighed afterward.

Nana Jo, however, had a bone to pick.

“I would remind you that it’s rude not to speak loud enough so that everyone at the table can hear you, Tommy.”

“Sorry.” But he flashed a cocky grin that had her pursing her lips.

Still, Nana Jo accepted the apology with a nod. Then she was grinning as well. “Based on Beth’s very becoming blush, I gather that whatever you whispered in her ear wasn’t fit for mine anyway.”

Elizabeth laughed weakly. “Still, he is being rude.”

She tried to tame her hair again, even though the breeze had other plans for it. The blush staining her cheeks was, as his grandmother said, becoming. Pretty? No. At that very moment, he thought her beautiful. Inside of him, something shifted with all the subtlety of an earthquake. It was a good thing he was seated or he might have wound up losing his balance.

Especially when Nana Jo added, “Yes, but that’s what happens when a man’s in love. He forgets everything including his manners.”

This made twice his grandmother had used the L-word. His breath caught in his throat. Hell, he could hardly drag enough of it into his lungs, until he reminded himself that he wanted his grandmother to think he was in love. The fact that she did simply meant he was playing his role superbly.

Kudos to me, he decided sourly. If his business ever folded maybe there was a career waiting for him in Hollywood.

“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked, looking concerned as she laid a hand on his arm.

“Allergies.” He coughed for effect. “Must be a lot of tree pollen in the air around here or something.”

Something being the operative word.

Nana Jo frowned. “Tommy, you don’t have—” She broke off abruptly then. “Goodness, Beth, where’s your engagement ring?”

Thomas would have appreciated his reprieve more if his freedom from the frying pan hadn’t landed him in the fire. He knew where the ring was. It was exactly where he’d left it, in the pocket of the herringbone jacket that was still in Elizabeth’s possession. He cursed himself for the oversight. Meanwhile, Elizabeth looked stricken.

“I … I …” She sent him a panicked look.

“It’s being sized.” He reached for her left hand and caressed its knuckles with the pad of his thumb. Her fingers were so small and delicate that the lie was believable. His mother’s ring never would have fit without a jeweler’s adjustment.

“I see.”

Nana Jo’s gaze made him nervous. When he was a kid, Nana Jo always seemed to be one step ahead of him. But surely she didn’t suspect.

She kept him guessing with her next question.

“I’ll have to settle for a description, then. What does it look like, Beth?”

Elizabeth appeared to be the one suffering a bout of something now. The blush of a moment ago was gone along with most of her color.