Misadventures of a Backup Bride, Page 3

  “We’ll have all the time necessary after you finish eating. It’s not as if we can talk much while we actually chow down.” She raises a brow at me. “Unless you’re telling me you chew with your mouth open?”

  “Let me rephrase this. I’ve bought all your time for the next two and a half weeks. You’re coming with me.”

  “I want a salad.”

  That’s not dinner. It’s a snack for a rabbit. “No.”

  Ella gives me a delicate grit of her teeth. “Nothing in your contract stated that I had to eat anything other than what I choose.”

  She’s not budging, and this argument is wasting time. “A hundred bucks if you sit down with me and eat the dinner I order for you.”

  “If you keep it under five hundred calories and low on carbs, that’s acceptable.”

  My voice drops, and I lean across the desk. I’m sure she believes her job is dependent on her weight. I get it. But the idea of her starving for someone else’s shallow notion of beauty pisses me off. “If I’m paying you to have dinner with me, you’ll eat a decent meal.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’re being argumentative.”

  “I’m being strategic. Some of Shaw’s friends should be at the restaurant I’ve chosen. They’ll tell their pal everything they see. You can’t look like an actress.”

  She sits back in her chair and stares at me, plush mouth pursed. “Not every woman who watches her weight works in Hollywood. One fifty. Or you can let me choose my own meal, and I’ll accompany you for free.”

  This may be a waste of money, but I’m not even remotely tempted to agree. “One twenty-five and you have a deal.”

  “Fine.”

  I can’t deny I enjoy getting my way. “Excellent.”

  I shove a few things into my briefcase. I’ll have to work tonight to make up for leaving the office a bit early, but this time with Ella is critical. Nothing else I do for Sweet Darlin’ matters without it.

  She looks away and fidgets. I don’t know what’s making her jumpy, the job…or me. In either event, I can’t let her visible nervousness continue.

  Falling in love—even pretending to—virtually overnight won’t be easy.

  After I shut down my laptop and zip up my briefcase, I cross the room and hold out a hand to Ella. She swallows and slides her slender fingers onto mine. As she rises, she releases my grip and stands beside me. I’m struck by how small she is—even in heels.

  “How tall are you?”

  “I’m on the petite side, but I always wear shoes that maximize my vertical appearance.”

  Clearly, she’s heard pushback about her height before. Tinseltown values women who are tall, beyond thin, and look as if they could fall prey to a stiff wind. “That’s not what I asked.”

  She raises her chin defensively. “Five-three and proud.”

  I repress a smile. She is a tiny thing. Of course, since I’m six-four, most women I date seem small by comparison. And this one I’m pretty sure I could pick up in one arm and still finish a 10K.

  “I’m not finding fault with you, Ella. Just asking a question. Since I’m supposed to know enough about you to be in love with you, I’ll ask a lot of them until I’m confident we can pass muster in public. I expect you to do the same. People will test us, Shaw especially. We have to make sure he can’t trip us up.”

  Ella relaxes. “You’re right. Sorry. Defending my height is a reflex.”

  “You hear about it when you audition?”

  She nods glumly. “A lot. Nicole Kidman is five-eleven.”

  I grab my phone from my pocket and do a little Googling. “Eva Longoria is five-two. Victoria Beckham is five-four.”

  A smile creeps across Ella’s mouth. “Thanks. I’ll bet you can be charming when you need to be.”

  Once, I probably was…when I lived in LA and my most pressing problem was finding a pretty girl to seduce on a Saturday night so I could let off a little steam after a long workweek. Since Edward Frost’s death and learning he named me heir of his enormous candy conglomeration, I’ve been sucked into a totally different life. For months, sex has been on the back burner. Hell, after grueling days and weekends of trying to wrap my arms around this business, I’ve barely had the energy for masturbation, much less getting laid.

  Until Ella Hope walked through my door.

  “I try.” I escort her out the door and lock my office behind me.

  Cora is already gone. In fact, the halls seem largely empty as we head for the parking lot.

  “I did some research before I came. I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d get a head start on learning you.” She looks up at me to gauge my expression, so I nod. “I’m sorry about your father’s recent passing.”

  “Biological father,” I correct. “He and my mother had a college romance and married briefly when she discovered she was pregnant. It didn’t last until my first birthday. Edward resented having to drop out of school to support us. My mother knew he had big dreams and didn’t want to stand in his way. But it all ended for the best. Edward began experimenting with candy making and perfected his recipes while his grandmother was still alive to help. In fact, Sweet Darlin’ is named for her.”

  “And your mother remarried a couple of years later.”

  I nod. “Craig was ten years her senior and came from a wealthy family, so that made her decision easier. But they were very much in love until they died in a car accident five years ago.”

  She frowns softly. “I read that. I’m sorry. Were you close to your mom and stepfather?”

  “Very. Craig was my father figure growing up. Edward was always busy and lived on the opposite coast. He had priorities other than parenting.” I pause. “I was a little shocked when he left the company to me.”

  “Did he have other children?”

  “No.” I hit a button on my key fob and open the door to my black BMW for her. “And he never remarried. After Sweet Darlin’ took off unexpectedly just before his thirtieth birthday, he was committed to work for life.”

  Once she slides into the car, I shut her inside and walk around. Ella already has more questions by the time I ease into the driver’s seat. “Why didn’t he leave it to his younger sister, Sherry? Everything I read on the internet said she declined to get involved—”

  “Totally.” I start the car with a shrug. “She lives in Northern California in what can only be described as a hippie commune. Her son, Jagger, tried to take over between Edward’s accident and the time he actually passed away. He made a mess of it, which is why I find myself compelled to hire someone to pretend to break my heart.”

  “That must be frustrating,” she muses as I back out of my space and leave the lot. “Have you thought of selling the company? Then it wouldn’t be your headache anymore. It sounds as if Gregory Shaw would buy it.”

  I tense beside her. “I won’t let the company Edward devoted his life to building slip through my fingers. It seems like a poor way to honor his memory. Besides, it’s the kind of challenge I’ve been wanting. There’s no other organization that would hire me as CEO with my current experience. It’s been a rough learning curve, but I’m starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. It’s an exhilarating adventure.”

  “That makes sense.” She stares out the windshield as the scenery zips past. “So…we need to know about each other, I guess.”

  “Yeah. How long did you date Shane?” I grimace. “At least I assume you’re not dating him anymore. Or anyone else?”

  Strictly speaking, it’s not the first question I need to be asking. I should know shit like her middle name and where she went to high school, what she wanted to be when she grew up, her favorite color and food. But I find myself compelled to know if she’s truly single.

  She laughs, her dark curls sliding over her delicate shoulder. “Actually, I was with Shane that night on a blind date. When he saw the way you looked at me, he gripped my hand really tight…but nothing else happened between us. And I never saw him again. No chemistry.”

/>   The irresponsible parts of my brain are doing the samba. It’s a relief that I can stop wondering if Shane ever convinced her to get horizontal with him.

  If I had known they hadn’t been dating—if Shane had mentioned that even once—I would have tracked Ella down. Well, I would have wanted to. But two weeks after his bash, I was called back to North Carolina to attend Edward’s funeral and assume the reins of Sweet Darlin’, so my life utterly changed.

  But Ella is here now. With me. I want the lay of her romantic land. I know it shouldn’t matter to me. But I won’t lie to myself. It does.

  “You didn’t seem like his type,” I remark.

  She frowns. “Why? He’s an astrophysicist. Am I not smart enough?”

  “That’s not it.” I smile. “Quite the opposite. You’re not bimbo enough. He likes them compliant and, um…dim.”

  She doesn’t respond for a long moment. Does she somehow think I’ve insulted her? I can’t imagine the insinuation that she’s smart would upset her. But who knows how the female mind works? I jerk my stare from the road and glance over to her.

  Rather than scowling, I find her laughing behind her hand, mirth sparkling in her dark eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I nod. “Shane is a buddy. Really smart, obviously. But a complete asshole when it comes to dating.”

  That makes her laugh out loud. “I understand now why, despite his good looks and intelligence, he’s single. My friend works with Shane, and when she found out he was dateless for his own birthday party, she insisted I would be perfect for him. I went skeptically but determined to be nice. It was his thirtieth birthday, after all. My first impression was that Shane is easy on the eyes and well employed, but not someone I could see myself with.”

  “How did the evening end?”

  “I told him I had an early morning audition.” She winces. “It was a lie. And he seemed fine with it. I hadn’t even pulled my car out of the driveway when I saw him come on to a blonde in a dress the size of a tube sock.”

  Her description makes me laugh outright. “That’s Shane. He’s the kind of friend who would give you the shirt off his back, but a real douche with women.”

  “Hence the reason I never saw him again.”

  So I can put to rest any thoughts of losing a pal over this beauty I’m lusting for. “Good to know. Do you have any food allergies I should be aware of?”

  “Fat, carbs, and sugar.” She’s doing her best to sound stern.

  “So a prime steak, a baked potato, and something decadent for dessert it is.”

  Her dark brows knit into a little frown. “Carson, I—”

  “We agreed on this.”

  “No. You twisted my arm. You know, you’re not always going to get your way.”

  I plan to often enough that I’m not going to sweat the times I don’t. There are perks to being the boss.

  “Of course not.” I toss a smile her way.

  “Liar. You think you are.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “It’s all over your face. You totally think you are.” She cocks her head. “How long did your last relationship last?”

  If Ella is suggesting that my ex and I didn’t make it because I was stubborn… Well, I’m sure that didn’t help, but that wasn’t the cause of our breakup. “About four months. Alexis was driven. When she received a job offer in Stockholm, she jumped at the chance.”

  “Oh.” Ella nods like that’s totally understandable. “Then tell me about your longest relationship.”

  I think back and back…and back some more. “High school. I dated Laura from the middle of my sophomore year until we graduated.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Frowning, I try to brush the thoughts aside. But they’re pesky, like weeds. When I yank them out, they only come back. Also like weeds, I have no idea where they stem from. They simply appear, full-grown, as if they sprouted and bloomed in a blink. “She wanted a deeper commitment before we both went off to college. She seemed determined to get engaged, if not married. We were eighteen. Too young.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “As much as I knew how to back then. But we had different futures in mind. Her parents were high school sweethearts still happily married. She believed her life should follow the same path. When I looked at her folks—neither went to college because her mom got pregnant with her older brother—working tough jobs, living paycheck to paycheck, always dreaming about the weekend so they could all spend time together… That wasn’t what I wanted. Plus”—I shrug—“marrying early hadn’t worked out for my mom and Edward. Mom struggled financially until she met my stepdad, and even then we weren’t super rich. Edward was ambitious, and despite the fact he didn’t raise me, I still had that fire in my blood to make something of my life. Laura didn’t understand why I wouldn’t settle for a mere job. If we had married and made it through college, we’d be long divorced by now.”

  “That’s a difficult situation. Neither of you was wrong…”

  “Just different.” I nod. “Our relationship was great when it revolved around football games, junior proms, and our first time in the backseat of a buddy’s SUV. But we weren’t ready for the real world. Or at least I wasn’t.”

  “What happened next?”

  I drag in a deep breath. “She married the boy next door—literally. They had two kids together. Last time I saw her, she wasn’t very happy.”

  In fact, I remember the night my phone rang late. It was maybe three years ago. Laura wanted to get together for old times’ sake. She said she wanted to clear the air between us because she needed closure. I drove across the Valley and agreed to meet her for coffee near our old neighborhood. Two minutes into our reunion, she teared up and admitted that she was talking to an attorney about divorcing her husband. Apparently, she’d never gotten over me. With her marriage in shambles and my own life being devoid of a significant someone, I wondered if maybe I had never fallen in love because I was somehow hung up on Laura. So I kissed her—once. I had to know if something still simmered between us that I had simply overlooked. But I felt nothing. I never saw her again. I heard through the grapevine that she went through with her divorce.

  “I’m sorry. And none of your other relationships have been serious?”

  “No. I’ve been career building. I’ve dated a lot of women doing the same. Coupling up hasn’t been a priority.” When did this conversation become about me? We’re supposed to be learning each other. “How about you?”

  “No one really serious.” She gives me a self-conscious smile. “Toward the end of my sophomore year, I gave my virginity to a really hot, popular senior, thinking that would show him how crazy I was for him. The experience was terrible, and the next day he went back to the girlfriend he’d broken up with the week before. Then I dated the class president of our rival high school as a senior. But he got accepted to Berkeley, and I was set to attend UCLA. They have a great dramatic arts program, as well as a killer film school. So we did the usual ‘I’ll see you during school breaks’ thing. But it wasn’t long before he had a girlfriend up north. I was too busy working to put myself through school, finding time for auditions, and keeping my grades up to do much more than casually date now and then. Since graduating a few years ago, it’s been more of the same—with a good exercise regimen thrown in. Trying to pay off student loans and keep the roof over my head is a full-time job, so guys have taken a backseat. Besides, have you met some of the men in Hollywood? Famous or not, they’re unreal.”

  I laugh. “I assume they’re all about their looks?”

  “Exactly. And I’m selective because I make it a policy never to date a guy who has better hair than I do.” She winks as if she realizes the mood in the car has gotten heavy and wants to lighten things up.

  “Are you insinuating my hair isn’t as nice as yours?” I say in mock challenge.

  “I’m congratulating you for not wearing a ton of product or sporting a man bun.”

  “
Then it’s all good.” I pull off the road and into the parking lot of the restaurant. “For the record, what made you finally decide you should settle down and that I might be the one?”

  It’s my sly way of asking her what, if anything, she likes about me. Sure, I could coach her on an appropriate reply. After all, I’m paying her to be my adoring new girlfriend. But, smart or not, I want to know what she thinks of me. It’s possible she doesn’t give a crap and has only taken this job for the money. But I’m hoping otherwise. For a reason I can barely fathom, I want her to want to be with me.

  That thinking is dangerous. I have my whole life on the line.