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

“They aren’t intellectually challenged, although many of them do have undiagnosed learning disabilities such as dyslexia. As children, they fell through the cracks in our educational system and now, as adults, they continue to fall through the cracks. Our goal is to change that.”

Finished, she shifted back in her seat. Her demeanor remained confident; her expression, determined. The mouse who roared, Thomas thought, more impressed than amused by the description.

“But it takes money,” he said.

“It does, even though we rely heavily on volunteers for tutoring, we have to supply materials and, sometimes, day care or even transportation to our offices if the client is indigent. We deal specifically with lower-income people who would not be able to afford such services otherwise.”

Intrigued now by the cause as much as by the woman, he asked, “How long has Literacy Liaisons been in business?”

“Nearly ten years.”

“And how long have you worked there?”

“I founded it, Mr. Waverly.”

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “How old are you?” He apologized immediately. “I’m sorry. It’s just that …”

“I look young. I know.” She tugged at the lapels of her jacket and added, “My power suit notwithstanding.”

Her self-deprecating sense of humor caught him off guard. He’d been sure he’d insulted her with his careless remark. Not sure what else to say—a rarity for him when it came to conversing with a member of the opposite sex—Thomas apologized a second time.

She accepted it with a gracious nod and went on. “I got the idea for Literacy Liaisons while I was in college studying to become a teacher.”

“U of M?” he asked. It was his alma mater, which gave them something in common.

But she was shaking her head. “Sorry. I hope it won’t have a bearing on your interest in Literacy Liaisons, but I’m a Spartan.”

Michigan State? The rivalry between the two Big Ten schools was legendary. He lifted one shoulder. “Good school.”

“Good comeback.” She laughed. “I take it you’re a Wolverine.”

“I bleed maize and blue,” he admitted, referring to the university’s colors.

“Good school,” she said, mimicking his earlier reply. They both laughed before she went on. “Long story short, instead of going into a classroom to teach after I earned my certification, I decided to open the center.”

Gutsy and not exactly the career path most recent college graduates would have chosen.

“Why?” he asked.

She moistened her lips. “I … saw a need.”

There was more to it than that, Thomas thought as he studied her expression. He saw determination there and something else. Sadness?

She was saying, “Our primary funding source has been federal grants and some state Department of Health and Human Services contracts, but money is tight everywhere right now. With tax revenues shrinking at every level of government, cuts have been made. Unfortunately, as vital as having a literate population is to economic prosperity, our funding has been reduced significantly during the past two fiscal years alone.”

“So, you’re seeking donations from the business community.”

“Actually, I’m doing more than that. I want to create an endowment fund to ensure the center’s viability both in good economic times and bad. It’s not easy to go begging for money, no matter how worthy the cause. I would prefer not to have to do it on an annual basis.”

Again, she smiled.

“Then an endowment makes sense.”

The more she said, the more impressed he was with her resolve. He couldn’t think of another woman in his acquaintance who would have started up a nonprofit right out of college and, a decade later, be pounding the pavement to ensure it remained viable.

Of course, the women he dated tended to be far more egocentric than philanthropic. A good number of them didn’t hold a regular job thanks to access to a trust fund or their daddy’s continuing indulgence. Physically, they were Elizabeth Morris’s polar opposite as well. None had been under five-eight. Indeed, a couple had stood eye-level with him in their bare feet. He favored model types, tall and leggy. Arm candy was what Nana Jo called them. It was an apt description. Every last one of them had been flawlessly beautiful and ultrafashionable. None would be caught dead in Elizabeth Morris’s self-described power suit or her nondescript pumps. Which made her somehow all the more perfect.

What if …?

No matter how many times he tried to quell that inappropriate question, it just kept begging to be answered.

She cleared her throat, and he realized he’d been staring. So much for his renowned manners. This made twice in their very short acquaintance that he’d been not only impolite, but also openly rude. Before he could apologize, however, she was rising to her feet.

“I can see that I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll just leave you with some additional information about our organization as well as our fundraising campaign. My contact information is in the packet should you have any questions.”

There was no hint of a smile on her face as she pulled a folder from her satchel and laid it on his desk. She didn’t look angry, but rather disheartened and maybe even a little bit weary. Who could blame her? Thomas imagined she’d probably run into a lot of closed doors and closed wallets during her quest.

“Please. Have a seat. I’ll take a look right now,” he said, forestalling her departure.

Inside the folder, he wasn’t surprised to find several pages of carefully ordered facts about Literacy Liaisons’s mission, each one bulleted for easy reading. He’d already determined that she was meticulous and organized. He glanced through the numbers regarding the endowment fund. She was nearly two-thirds of the way to her goal.

Prefacing this, he said, “I see you’ve been very busy.”

“I’ve been at it for nearly nine months. Unfortunately, it’s been slow going lately.” She shrugged then and said, “The economy.”

Ah, yes. Two words that said it all these days. The economy had wreaked havoc on Waverly Enterprises’s bottom line, too, causing Thomas and his department managers to scour the company’s budget for savings. The office Christmas party had been scaled back to a luncheon, wages had been frozen and some low-level positions were going unfilled.

Still, he’d tried not to cut back too much on charitable contributions—not because his accountants were quick to remind him that such donations were a tax deduction, but because he genuinely believed in being socially responsible.

Teaching people to read was not just commendable, it was essential. As a businessman, he understood that perfectly. Hers was just the sort of endeavor he preferred to support, especially if the bulk of his donation would go to actual programs rather than overhead, which the paperwork in front of him assured that it would.

The subtle scent of apple blossoms floated his way, and that crazy idea he’d been entertaining since she’d first walked through his door became all the more pronounced.

What if …?

The question no longer seemed so outlandish. Nor did asking it seem totally self-serving. After all, a sizable donation would put her endowment campaign over the top and ensure the future viability of Literacy Liaisons. They could help each other out.

Besides, Elizabeth Morris seemed to be a practical woman, the sort who would see his proposal for what it was: a mutually beneficial business arrangement. Quid pro quo.

“So, do you have any questions?” she asked politely. Her smile was back in place and just this side of hopeful.

Did he ever, and it was a doozy, but the one Thomas went with was: “Does anyone ever call you Beth?”

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_34c4e0fc-0cb7-5274-b8bf-564ebcf794f4)

ELIZABETH felt her mouth fall open. Of all the questions she’d anticipated Thomas Waverly asking, that one wasn’t among them. Inquiries about her business or her background? Certainly. Her nickname? Not so much. But since it would be rude to question his questioning—almost as rude as calling on him at his office without an actual appointment—she did her best to wipe away her surprise and answered him honestly.

“No one’s ever called me Beth.”