Not Her Real Fiance Read online

  “All right.” She shuffled some perfect paperwork on her desk. “Brad. We’re engaged?”

  “Yeah, I just…I went out with her a few days ago, and it was not going well. So I told her I was engaged, and I kind of…left her in the restaurant.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Tried to play it off as a big misunderstanding.”

  “Oh-ho, I think she definitely got the understanding.”

  Brad chuckled and nodded. “You were quite convincing.”

  “I sounded a little catty, didn’t I?” Celeste couldn’t help laughing too, but she quickly covered her mouth, feeling self-conscious in this man’s presence. Plus, she couldn’t believe he’d make up such a story just to get out of a date. He must not have had too much experience if he had to resort to such things.

  “Nah,” he said, though she definitely had sounded a little catty. “Anyway, thank you. I’m in the clear now.” He started to stand, a groan pulling through his throat.

  Celeste stood up too, alarmed that he was leaving. For a reason she couldn’t name, she didn’t want this to be over. After all, what other reason would he have to jog toward her and bring all that delicious-smelling cologne into her office?

  “I don’t think you understand women,” she said.

  Brad’s gaze flew to hers, clearly horrified. Or something along those lines. “I’m sure I don’t.”

  “Carmen isn’t just going to accept that and move on,” she said. “In addition to her journalism—and I use that term lightly—she works at the salon, and that means she has a network of women she can ask about you.”

  His mouth opened, but he said nothing. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “So what do we do?” he finally asked.

  “Well, you can start by finding me a ring to wear,” she said. “That way, the rumor will be perpetuated.” Her thoughts flew to her sisters. They’d know within a matter of days, and then her phone would blow up. Gwen would stand in the bathroom door while Celeste brushed her teeth, and fire questions at her until Celeste wanted to gouge out her eardrums.

  So she’d have a precious few days to keep this secret to herself.

  “So wait,” he said, standing up fully. “You’re saying we need to stay engaged?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. What’s a reasonable amount of time to be engaged? This was quite sudden.”

  Brad smiled again, and Celeste’s flirting skills had rewarded her yet again. “I was once engaged for only six weeks,” he said.

  Celeste’s eyebrows shot up. “You were?”

  “Once,” he said evasively, ducking his head. He was absolutely adorable, and Celeste couldn’t believe she thought so. He was so different from the interviews she’d seen and the stories she’d read. So, so different.

  “So let’s start with six weeks,” she said. “Can you take me to dinner tonight?”

  “Tonight?” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat again.

  All at once, Celeste realized he was nervous. This incredibly handsome, strong, striking, ex-professional football player was nervous around her.

  The sky had definitely fallen.

  “I like Radish,” she said, opening the door and standing beside it. “I don’t get off until six though.”

  “Should I…pick you up here, or at your place?”

  She held out her palm, feeling reckless and absolutely like lightning had struck her. “I’ll put my number in your phone. You text me, and I’ll send you my address.”

  Brad smoothly reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. Celeste had never been happier that she kept her nails short as she tapped her number into his phone. “There you go, Bradley.”

  He took his phone and paused right in front of her, both of them crowded in the doorway. “It’s just Brad, Celeste. I mean, I don’t want to be reminded of my mother when we’re…together.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, sending fire though her whole body.

  “Okay, I’ll text you,” he said, walking away.

  Celeste leaned against the doorframe and watched him until he ducked back through the plastic barrier and into the new construction for the VIP pool. Her phone didn’t chime right away, and that only made her heart beat a little faster than it already was.

  She fanned herself as she backed into her office and closed the door, the realization of what she’d just done striking her in the chest.

  “But maybe now you can move past Ben. And Boyd. And Andre,” she said aloud to herself, glad her assistant hadn’t come in yet. She dove for her phone, because she couldn’t go on a date with Brad without perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

  That afternoon, Celeste rushed through the last of her prep for a four o’clock meeting with one of her December brides. Her appointment had taken a little longer than normal, as there had been a group of women who’d gotten there just ahead of her.

  Didn’t matter. She’d been through these files before, and she almost had them memorized. But she prided herself on being ultra-prepared with everything she needed to provide the ultimate experience for her brides.

  “Leslie is here.” Paige’s voice chirped over the intercom in Celeste’s office, and she closed her folders and reached for the button.

  “I’m ready,” she said, standing. She straightened her clothes and stepped over to the door. Paige opened the door and Leslie smiled at her as she walked in. “Thanks, Paige.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Oh, and a very handsome man stopped by a few minute ago. He said he texted you and hasn’t heard back.” Paige’s eyebrows went up as her lips curved.

  “He did? Why didn’t you send him back?”

  “You said no distractions,” Paige said, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder.

  Celeste had said that, and there were no exceptions. As she closed the door and faced Leslie, she thought she should maybe put Brad on the exception list, if only because that was what she’d do for a real fiancé.

  “Leslie,” she said, pushing Brad out of her mind. “How are you?” She hugged her bride. “How’s Rick?”

  “He’s great,” she said. “The wedding is still on.” She laughed lightly, and Celeste joined her though her laughter was a bit forced.

  “I’m so glad,” she said. “We have three things to decide today.” And Leslie wasn’t known for making quick decisions. “Let’s start with the easiest one. The cake.” She crossed to the table in her office, where Teagan had set up the three choices for Leslie’s wedding.

  “This one is our house-made carrot cake,” she said. “It’s delicious, and moist, and it has cream cheese frosting with chopped walnuts on top.” She handed Leslie a tasting fork and continued with, “It’s our largest cake, as you can see.”

  “Very robust,” Leslie agreed, dipping her fork into the frosting and cake. She took a delicate bite, because everything Leslie did was dainty. “Mm, this is good.”

  “Classic chocolate,” Celeste said, her stomach growling at her for skipping lunch. But she hadn’t had time, and she never ate before going out with a new man. That way, she’d be plenty hungry, and she wouldn’t be self-conscious about eating in front of him.

  Bradley Keith.

  She could hardly believe he’d come into her office that morning. He clearly had no idea she’d submitted a proposal for his grant money, and she wasn’t sure if that stung more or made the situation more tolerable.

  “It has a rich chocolate ganache,” she said, focusing on the cake. “As well as chocolate chips inside the cake.”

  “Wow, death by chocolate,” Leslie said, barely taking enough to taste it.

  “And our classic vanilla. The cream is lemon, with a very vanilla bean frosting.”

  Leslie took a bite of that one, and then another, and Celeste knew she’d found her winner. “Vanilla,” she said.

  “Great.” Celeste crossed back to her desk. “I’ll put it on the menu. Which leads us to the wine you want for the pre-dinner mingl
e.” She indicated the row of bottles on her desk, which the inn’s new wine connoisseur had selected specifically based on Leslie’s questionnaire.

  By the time she finished with Leslie, it was five-thirty, and she hadn’t had a spare moment to text Brad. She picked up her phone, which had been on silent for hours, and saw he’d texted a while ago.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers flew across the screen as she hurried to text him her address. Say, seven? she asked. I’m still at work, and I want to change.

  He didn’t answer immediately, and Celeste did something she hadn’t done in a long time—she left work early.

  Even Paige looked at her in surprise and asked, “Where are you going?”

  Celeste turned and walked backward out of the office. “I have a date. Let’s lunch tomorrow.”

  “I’m ordering now!” Paige yelled after her, and Celeste giggled as she walked down the hall, her heels practically clicking against the industrial carpet up here.

  She pushed the elevator button, a giddy feeling prancing through her she hadn’t felt in a long time. And probably shouldn’t be feeling now.

  Gwen worked an early shift in the inn’s kitchens, as she managed all the food coming in or going out of the inn, including what they needed for the bakery, the on-site restaurant, room service, and on-beach dining.

  It was a huge job, and she often left the house where she and Celeste lived by five o’clock in the morning. Celeste had a much more normal job, at least according to the hours she worked. She’d likely find Gwen sitting on the back porch, a paper plate with the remains of her dinner beside her, and a soft snore coming out of her mouth.

  Celeste could change into something a little less professional, put on more lip gloss, and sneak out of the house in a pair of sandals so she could have an amazing first date with Bradley Keith.

  Bradley Keith.

  She grinned as she got on the elevator, more excited about this date than any she’d had in a long, long time.

  So he’d snubbed her once. So had her other boyfriends, and she’d gone out with them again. She’d just see if the spark that had leapt between them in her office grew into a flame. That was all.

  Chapter Three

  Annoyance sang through Brad when he got Celeste’s text. No, he hadn’t hurried right back to the construction site and messaged her immediately. But surely someone like her was attached to her phone at the hip, and she couldn’t answer him for hours?

  He’d even stopped by her office in an attempt to get an answer.

  “Stupid,” he muttered to himself. He’d probably come off looking like a fool, desperate for the Queen Bee to pay attention to him.

  Still, at six-forty-five, he found himself swiping the keys to his convertible from the hook beside the garage exit and heading to the address she’d finally given him.

  The house he pulled up to looked…quaint. That was how his mother would’ve described it. Cute, and quaint, and the perfect place to waste an afternoon on the beach. Or whole days. The front yard was neatly trimmed, and the white siding gleamed in the evening sunlight. The sound of the ocean could be heard as he walked up the sidewalk, and he reminded himself that the Heartwoods had some serious money.

  You do too, he told himself as he rang the doorbell and tucked his hands in his pockets. He’d done exactly what she’d told him to and spent part of the afternoon at the jewelry shop, getting a ring for his “fiancée.”

  When she finally opened the door, Brad drank in the sight of her. She was beautiful, and she possessed a sense of style that the socialites did in New York City. He’d played there for one year, and he generally wanted to wipe those twelve months of memories from his mind.

  “Hey, Princess,” he said, because that was what she was. “You look great.” He could compliment her even if this whole thing was fake.

  Her blue eyes sparkled, and for the first time, Brad thought she might not be looking down on him. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  He glanced down so he could remember what he wore. Blue jeans. Blue button-up. He looked into her eyes. “Thanks. So Radish? Isn’t that some sort of, I don’t know, fancy sushi place?”

  “It’s way more than sushi,” she said. “They have steaks too. Lobster. Everything is divine.”

  Divine.

  Brad almost started laughing, because he literally didn’t know a single person who talked like that. Oh, wait. Yes, he did. Celeste Heartwood.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said, smiling at her. She wore a different pair of dangly earrings this evening, with a pair of skintight jeans and a bright yellow blouse covered in flowers. She wore sandals instead of heels, and Brad decided on the spot that he liked them as much as the fancier footwear she usually wore.

  “We can go somewhere else, if you’d like,” she said, though it was clear she did not want to dine somewhere else.

  “Do you go out much, Celeste?” he asked, stepping back and turning to go down the steps.

  “I don’t see how that’s your business.”

  “Well, seeing as how you’re my fiancée, I think I should know quite a few things about you I don’t yet know.” Brad could sound dignified if he had to. When he’d played for the Falcons, he’d had a press secretary and a public relations director, who helped him—and all the players—put forth their best foot.

  She joined him at the bottom of the steps and appraised him with the same coolness he’d always seen from her. Just once, he’d like to see her get ruffled. Lose an earring. Break a heel. Something.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I go out a normal amount.”

  “Then you’d know that it’s a terribly busy time on the island, and all the restaurants are full almost all the time.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “So we’ll go to Radish, because I got a reservation there, and they’re expecting us.”

  “You got a reservation? When?”

  “This morning, when you said I needed to take you to Radish.” He cut a look at her out of the corner of his eye and kept walking down the sidewalk. “You did say six, but I called and got it moved back. We do need to get going, though.” He opened the passenger door for her, but she just looked at the car.

  “Worried about messing up your hair?” he asked. Celeste didn’t seem like the type to enjoy driving down the coastal highway, the top down, her hair flying wildly behind her as the wind tried to steal it from her head.

  “Yes,” she said, giving him a hard glare. “A little, actually.” She reached up and smoothed her perfect curls. “I spend a lot of time on my hair.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, wondering where the words had come from and if he really meant them. Of course he did. Celeste was a beautiful woman. Devastatingly beautiful, and his heart skipped a beat, then two.

  She ducked her head and smiled, finally stepping past him and lowering herself into the car. He closed the door behind her and went around the back of the car, wondering why this felt like a real date.

  He pulled open the door, the corner of it catching against his shin. He yelped and hopped back, cursing inside his head.

  “Are you okay?” Celeste asked. “What happened?”

  He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d maimed himself with his own car door, as if he’d never gotten in a car before. “Nothing,” he said quickly, his throat tight. He slid into the seat and started the car, flashing her a quick smile that didn’t sit right on his face.

  The music came on too loud, and his pulse sped as he hurried to turn it down. “Sorry.” A nervous laugh accompanied the word, and Celeste gave him a tight smile. His mind spun as he drove, trying to find something to say to her.

  “What are you working on right now?” he asked.

  “At the inn?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You do events there, right?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “It’s wedding season, so we’re dealing with a lot of those, and of course, I’m dea
ling with my fall brides as well, and when I have time, I’m already booking for Christmas.”

  “Wow,” he said, though he had no idea what it took to deal with a bride. “And I’m just trying to get the right tile in.”

  “How’s the pool coming?”

  “It’ll get done,” Brad said, because it would. “We’re a bit behind schedule, but I’ve learned that being behind is the name of the game when it comes to construction.”

  “Isn’t it?” she asked. “Why is that? Gwen and I had our bathroom remodeled, and it took two months to get the mirror in. The first time, it wasn’t cut right, and it took ages to get it redone.”

  “Oh, those glass guys,” he said. “They’re the worst. And the thing is, once you find a good one, you can’t leave them. They do such great work. And it’s so specialized.” Brad took a deep breath, because he realized what a boring topic of conversation this was.

  “How’d you go from football player to construction manager?” she asked.

  “I own the company,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice he didn’t mean to have. But it was there, nonetheless, and by the look on Celeste’s face, she’d heard it.

  “I’m aware,” she said coolly.

  Brad pulled into the parking lot at Radish and found a spot near the back. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her voice too high and too airy. So it meant something. He studied her for another moment, but she turned away from him and got out of the car.

  Brad went with her and into the ritzy restaurant, with all of its dim lighting and huge live lobster tank right by the hostess station. He found it insufferable, but he hoped the food would be good.

  Problem was, at least a dozen people milled between the door and the hostess station, and Brad didn’t want to just shove his way through. He could—he’d been trained to get through angry people trying to put him flat on his back—but he didn’t want to.

  He became aware of several people looking at him, and one man stepped right up to him. “Brad Keith, right?”