The Fake Fiancée

“Are you hiding from my mother?”

“Absolutely.”

His eyes widened, then he laughed. “For some reason, I thought you’d deny it.”

She lifted a brow at him. “Some people enjoy honesty, Mr. Riley. Keeping track of lies is too exhausting.”

His smile turned glacial. “Some people just can’t loosen up. Anal, I believe Freud called it. Or just self-righteous.”

Lisa flushed. When had she gotten to be such a sourpuss? Oh, yeah. Brad. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “About meeting my mom? You shouldn’t be. Mom’s a sweetie pie.”

She crossed her arms. “Then what was all that about our practicing kissing so she wouldn’t see through our act? A bloodhound, I think you called her.”

Joe grinned, showing his dimples. “I’m glad you reminded me. That’s still a great idea.”

“Forget it, buster.” Lisa fought a giggle and lost. “You’re looking for practice in all the wrong places.”

“Nerves are making you hysterical. Let’s go meet Mom and Dad and get this over with.”

Her feet stuck to the floor. “Mom and Dad?”

“Sure, didn’t I tell you? Mom’s president of the Garden Society. Next to the Rose Exhibit, this is her big event. Naturally Dad came to support her.”

“No,” she said, her voice squeezing out of her tight throat. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “You didn’t mention it.”

“Didn’t Mom contact you about catering tonight?”

She rubbed her throbbing temple. “I dealt with the event coordinator, Lainey Perkins. I didn’t know your mom was president.”

He frowned. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I guess not. I just got this sick feeling in my stomach when you told me.” She tried to laugh it off. “What difference could it possibly make?”

“Atta girl.” Joe put his hand on the small of her back. He imagined her slender body perfectly curled into his. Her shiny blond hair would tickle like corn silk against his cheek. He enjoyed the warmth beneath his hand. Her derriere curved out right below. He could slide his hand down and—

And Lisa would smash an entire tray of desserts in his face. Joe smiled as he led her across the room. He enjoyed the fire of her temper, the challenge in her blue eyes. She didn’t make it easy for him to “court” her, but he relished the chase. “There they are.”

Lisa stumbled. He felt her stiffen as they neared and draped his arm across her back.

He tried to see them as Lisa would, but to Joe, they were just Mom and Dad. Joe inspected his mother’s face for too much or too little color, but she appeared hale and hearty, despite the pressures of the evening. He let out a relieved breath. His dad beamed with pride, as if Mom had not only put this shindig together single-handedly but grown all the flowers, too. Joe felt that same satisfaction.

His mother watched their approach. He raised his voice to get his father’s attention. “Mom, Dad. This is Lisa Meyer. Lisa, these are my parents, Alice and Mike Riley.”

His dad encompassed her small hand with both of his. The warm, open smile on his face said better than his words how much he enjoyed meeting her. Lisa had helped make the party a success for his wife, and she was with Joe. That made her okay with his dad.

Joe glanced at his mom. She was sizing Lisa up, he noticed with fond amusement.

“So nice to meet you.” His mom held out her hand to Lisa. “I’ve heard nothing but praise around the tables this evening, both for the taste of the desserts and for your smooth expertise in serving.”

“Thank you.” Lisa swallowed visibly. “It’s nice of you to say so. I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen of the flower exhibit. You’ve presented the flowers in a thought-provoking manner.”

His mom’s eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”

Joe squeezed Lisa’s waist.

She cleared her throat. “There are various ways to group a presentation. For instance, you could have put all the roses together, bunched the orchids, like that, displaying the quality of each entry against its rivals. But then you would have had a rose corner, an orchid corner, and so on, and it would have been boring, like picking out plants in a nursery.”

Joe gawked at her. Boring? What was she doing? Why didn’t she just say thanks to his mother’s compliment, tell her how in love she was with him, and skedaddle back to the kitchen?

“I’ve seen it done totally by color, too.”

He fought the urge to elbow her, fearing his mother would notice. With dread, he waited to hear what she’d say next because, as far as he could tell, his mom had grouped the flowers by color.

“That approach results in chaos, of course,” Lisa said.

He groaned. Maybe she was showing her worst side, hoping his mother would talk Joe out of seeing her, declaring Lisa unfit. Or just insane.

“Chaos?” His mother’s chill tone brought autumn to the room. He glanced at the nearby plants, watching for them to wither.

Lisa nodded. “Absolutely. Orchids and roses fighting for space, mixing their perfumes until it smelled like a funeral parlor—”

He choked, barely hearing his mother’s gasp over the piano music in the background. His dad surveyed the nearby food tables, clearly not interested in flower arrangements and oblivious to the byplay.

“And obscuring their individual perfection. But—” Lisa’s voice rose with what Joe took for enthusiasm “—you’ve utilized the color scheme, while preserving the distinctiveness of each species. Tea roses and old-fashioneds complement each other, and separating them by shade only emphasizes their individual characters.”

Joe debated kicking her ankle. Had Lisa lost her mind? It hardly mattered that his mother was warming to her continued—and continued and continued—praise. He had to get her away. He observed her pinkened cheeks and bright eyes and finally noticed what had escaped him before.

Lisa wasn’t breathing.

She’d barely taken a breath since she started. In a minute he’d have to scoop her off the floor from a light-headed faint. He no longer wanted to kick her ankle, although he might have to pound her on the back to get her to inhale. The tightness in his chest eased. She was only nervous, not trying to sabotage his plan.

“Well,” he cut in, “we all agree with you, honey.” He saw her start of surprise, and—finally, thankfully—heard her gulp in air. “When Mom does something, she does it right.”

“That’s what I was trying to say,” Lisa said.

“I think I prefer her way of saying it,” his mother said. “Much more effusive.”

They all laughed.

“That’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss Lisa’s cheek.

She jumped back with wide eyes. His mother’s mouth pursed. Slowly her narrowed gaze moved to Joe, connecting with his and sending a message.

Joe read her doubt all too clearly.

Lisa put her hand on his chest and peeked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m just so jittery.” She glanced at his parents, focusing on his dad. “I babble when I’m nervous, as you now know. Catering this event is so important to my business. I get dizzy thinking of the potential jobs I could book from all these people.”