Her Faux Fiancé (7 page)

But here they were again. And
déjà vu
was doing a number on him. As much as he tried to resist, tried to focus on his plan to ruin the man who was truly to blame for Karen’s death, he found himself drawn to Analise like he’d been in the past. He enjoyed her company, her quick sense of humor, and her appreciation for simple things—like the picnic on the beach yesterday. She’d been as happy munching sandwiches on the sand as other women he’d dated had been eating in a Michelin-star restaurant. Analise was no longer the girl who’d left him. She’d become an intriguing, beautiful woman he wanted to know better—much, much better, if his body had its way. Some things hadn’t changed.

Right now, she was pouring lemonade into cups for a group of children. The smile she gave his cousin Brent’s daughter didn’t reach her eyes. She played the part of his fiancée perfectly, except there was a sadness about her that didn’t jibe with the role of a happy bride-to-be. Most people had put it down to the recent loss of her grandmother. But he wondered how much had to do with the end of her engagement. And he intended to find out. First, he had to get someone else to support his mother so he could disappear for a while.

“Mom, I think Gran wants to speak with you.” Erik steered his mother over to where his grandmother was waving at them. He mouthed the words “thank you” before striding over to Analise. She saw him coming this time, so she didn’t jump at his arrival.

“You look like you could use a break. Come with me for a few minutes.” He took her hand and guided her away from the drinks table.

“But—”

“No buts. We’re an engaged couple sleeping at our respective grandparents’ places. People will expect us to sneak off for some alone time.”

“But—”

Erik spun her into his arms, put one hand on her face, and kissed her until she clung to him. It was meant to be a distraction tactic; however, it resulted in wiping all rational thought from his mind. Good thing all he had to think about at the moment was getting Analise alone. Raising his head, he caught grins on a few of his cousins’ faces. With his arm around her waist, he led her toward the barn.

Her steps faltered as they neared. “No, not in there.” Her voice was filled with anguish, her face drained of color.

The barn. His sister’s body. No, definitely not there. He bypassed the large, red building and strolled toward the trees at the back of the vegetable garden. Although planted to form a windbreak to protect the farmyard, it had been the perfect place to play as a child. Sure enough, a dozen or so children were either climbing the trees, yelling at others already up in the limbs, or trying to dislodge balls caught in the branches.

“There’s ice cream and cookies back at the house,” Erik announced.

The chorus of shrieks and squeals could probably be heard from the neighboring property. Within a minute, the woods were vacated. Pushing through the bushes, they came into a barren circle. A bed of leaves carpeted the area. He sat on the ground, his back against the trunk of a large silver birch and tugged on Analise’s arm to join him.

“Bring all your girlfriends here?” she asked as he directed her onto his lap.

“You’re the only fiancée I’ve brought here.”

“Well, I guess that’s something.”

He raised her face and kissed her soft lips, his hands running up and down her crossed arms until he felt her relax against him. Resisting the desire to make her melt, to take the longing that hummed through his veins to its natural conclusion, he contented himself with holding her. He needed to know what happened to her previous engagement. He couldn’t romance her if another man still held prime position in her heart.

Time to find out what he was up against.

• • •

Dieu
, being held by Erik was becoming her addiction. His broad, muscled chest against her back, his strong arms around her … It was heaven. And rather than making her feel weak and small, she felt powerful, as though she were absorbing his strength. Most importantly, however, she felt cherished and cared for. Which was ridiculous, because it was all a sham. Too bad her body hadn’t got that memo.

With her back to his chest, she felt as much as heard his words. “How are you coping with my family? Anyone being too nosey?”

“No, everyone is very nice. A few remember me from … before. If this is just the immediate family, how many are you expecting for the full reunion next week?”

“A couple hundred, at least. Don’t worry, we’ve hired some caterers to look after a lot of the food management, so you won’t be stuck in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t mind.” And she didn’t; helping was part of who she was. She needed to be needed. That was something that had been missing from her relationship with Jean-Claude; she’d never sensed that he needed her.

Erik took a deep breath, and she steeled herself for his next remark. “I know you don’t have much family … Did your ex-fiancé?”

Here it is, the interrogation about my previous engagement.
“No, he was an orphan. That’s one of the reasons we connected.” Except Jean-Claude had never wanted family. Something that had begun to come between them the longer they’d been together.

“Tell me about him,” Erik prompted.

“Why?”

“Because you seem so sad. And I want to help, but I can’t unless I know what happened.” His voice was soft and gentle, coaxing the story from her.

The French government should try this interrogation technique—have a sensitive man cuddle the informant. It was way more effective than sleep deprivation and ice-cold showers.

“His name was Jean-Claude.”

“Why did you break up?”

“Because he died. I wasn’t woman enough for him to live for.” A shudder wracked her body, and he tightened his hold.

“You are more woman than most men can handle, Analise. What happened?”

“Turns out I never knew him. Our whole relationship was a sham.”
Sound familiar? Maybe I’ve found a new career path—fake fiancée to manipulative men.

“How long were you together?”

“Four years. It started out as a working relationship. He was a freelance journalist.”
Or so I thought.
“I was a freelance photographer. We teamed up and worked together. It was a successful partnership. His articles and my photos sold to newspapers and magazines throughout the English- and French-speaking world. It was constant travel; as a situation died down, we’d move on to the next global hotspot.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“At first. Then we switched from reporting famines and natural disasters to conflicts and political unrest. And the constant worry about being kidnapped or killed … Stress eats away at the excitement until all that’s left is fear.”

“Why did you stay? Surely there are less dangerous places in the world to take photos.”

“Of course. Jean-Claude thrived on the danger, though. He lived for the adrenaline rush.”

“Even though you were scared? Surely he could find some other way to get his thrills. Wasn’t your safety and peace of mind his first concern?”

“No, it was always the job. The world needed to know what was going on, and we were the ones to tell them. It was my photos and his evocative words that made people give to charities for the starving and maimed children. It was my photos of dead babies and his brutal assessment of a situation that got the UN involved and prevented further bloodshed.”

“Is that the line he fed you?” His voice vibrated with anger, but his touch was gentle. He twirled his engagement ring, which now sat on her finger. Was Erik regretting giving it to her? Had Jean-Claude begun to regret their engagement, like she had? They’d grown apart, wanted different things from life. He’d wanted adventure, she’d wanted stability. Yet, despite the arguing, they’d stayed together. He’d hung on because he was stubborn like that. And she’d been afraid to be alone. Now she knew there were worse things than being alone.

“It was true. We did good work. And I learned to control my fear. It made me cautious and probably kept me alive.”

“And Jean-Claude?”

“He had no fear. The few times we were between assignments, he’d go base jumping or whitewater kayaking or climb frozen waterfalls. I was sure that was going to be the way he died.”

“How did he die?”

Analise swallowed and rubbed her upper thigh. The pain was almost gone, but the memory was still fresh. “We were in Syria, in Aleppo. Jean-Claude had a rendezvous arranged with someone. The coalition forces were shelling the neighborhood where they were to meet. Snipers were outside the building where we’d taken shelter, and we could hear intermittent gunfire as soldiers shot anyone they found.”

Erik’s fists were clenched, his muscles bunched against her back. Did he want to hear the rest? Now that she’d started, she wanted to get it off her chest. “He went to the meeting?”

“I begged him not to go, to wait until morning. But he insisted it was vital that the meeting take place. He left, and I hid myself under some broken furniture. The soldiers did come in, but by then it was dark and they didn’t see me. The next morning, when it seemed calm, I went to the meeting place. His informant was dead, shot in the head. Jean-Claude lay in a pool of blood, phasing in and out of consciousness. He had a bullet in the spine and was paralyzed from the waist down. I tried to move him … and he bled out as I held him in my arms.”

“Oh God, Analise. I never imagined.”

“You know what the worst thing was?”

“There was one worst thing? The whole situation seems a nightmare.”

“I had imagined such a thing happening for so long that when it did, I didn’t feel anything.”

“And now?”

“Now, I feel it all.”

Erik rubbed his chest as his cousin at the bank gave him an update over the phone. Analise’s revelation two days ago about her fiancé’s death had left him unnerved. Faced with such trauma, his present course of action seemed childish.
I’m doing this for Karen.
But the tragedy of his sister’s passing no longer had the same motivating force it once had.

“Erik?” His cousin’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, thanks, Grace. You’ve been really helpful.”

“You know I can get into a lot of trouble for this, don’t you? Bank records are supposed to be confidential.”

“I know a good lawyer,” he replied.

“Just keep me out of it.”

He snapped his notebook shut. “Understood.”

“See you at the party.”

“Yeah.” He disconnected the call and lay back on his bed. He should’ve been elated. His plan was so close to success. Instead, he felt oddly hollow. Picking up the photo of Analise that he’d taken from his sister’s bedroom, he stared at her beautiful face. The picture was ten years old, yet Analise’s incredible eyes were still the same. Eyes that had seen the worst of the world. He wanted to show her the best.

Still, what he’d come to Manitoba to do was almost complete. The man who had seduced his sister and then so publicly denounced her, pushing her to suicide, was on the verge of bankruptcy. Erik had carefully engineered Ian MacEwan’s downfall. Ian was about to get his just desserts.

It had taken him two years and countless rounds of beer to eventually loosen tongues and uncover the truth about Karen’s last days. It seemed the high school jocks had a pact to see how many girls they could bed before graduation. Analise had been their ultimate target. When she hadn’t shown up for the final year-end party, Ian had decided that her best friend, Karen, would do.

The next day, when Karen, thinking they were now a couple, sat next to Ian in the cafeteria, he had told the truth. In fact, Ian had said, if he hadn’t been so drunk, he would never have been able to stomach banging her. Humiliated and heartbroken, Karen had raced home after school, refusing to talk to anyone. Then Analise had found her best friend’s body in the barn. And all their lives had been broken.

Grabbing his phone and wallet from the dresser, Erik left the room. His mother called out as he opened the screen door.

“Where are you going, Erik?”

“To see Analise. Don’t wait up.” After yesterday, he didn’t have the patience to deal with his mother. He found her constant clinging almost unbearable. No wonder Analise steered clear of her as much as possible.

“It’s only ten in the morning. Are you planning on staying away all day?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call you if I won’t be home tonight.” Before he could close the driver’s door, his mother was there.

“I thought we could spend the day together,” she said. He could already smell alcohol on her breath. He’d tried to hide it all, but obviously she had a secret stash.

If only she would recognize she had a problem and seek treatment. Until then, there wasn’t a lot he could do to help her. He forced his voice to remain gentle. “We spent the whole day together yesterday. You kept me so busy cleaning up after the party, I didn’t get to see my fiancée.” And missing Analise had become a physical pain. Which didn’t bode well for when they parted.
If
they parted, his heart amended. Damn optimistic heart.

“I haven’t seen my son in a year and a half. I think the least you can do is spend some time with me.” His mother’s whining grated on his already taut nerves. He’d done his best to be patient, slipping her glasses of water between drinks. He needed a break.

“I love Analise. I want to be with her. I’ll try to convince her to come over here.” Although he doubted Analise would want to spend much time at the farm. There were too many memories of Karen tied up here. After her revelations about her fiancé’s death, Erik wanted to remind her of life’s joys, not its sorrows.

“If that’s the best you can offer, I guess that will have to do.”

Was there some way he could make his mother focus less on the past and try to find some joy in the future? A grandchild would probably do the trick. That was a scary thought.

His foul mood lifted as he parked in front of the Thordarsons’ house. A day with Analise held endless opportunities to touch and kiss her, something he was finding more and more addictive. As he stepped from the BMW, Analise and her grandfather appeared on the porch. She wore a light blue skirt and white top, her handbag slung over her shoulder as though they were going out.