Rent a Millionaire Groom (9 page)

She was right. Talk about children had always had that effect on him, come to think of it. Not because he didn’t want children, but because he hadn’t wanted commitment to any woman after Sylvia.

Until now.

No, he hurriedly assured himself, that wasn’t true. Because Elise wasn’t wanting commitment. That’s why he was so relaxed. Not because he wanted to commit to her. No, it wasn’t that.

“So, what’s Phoebe going to say to them?”

“She’s planning on being subtle, James,” Elise said, her voice dry. “She’ll start up a conversation about the art on display. We both think a man interested in art might be exactly what Daisy needs.”

Somehow, James didn’t have much faith in Phoebe’s plan. But as long as it didn’t involve Elise approaching strange men, he’d keep his opinion to himself.

“Turn right at the light,” Elise ordered.

Suddenly, James remembered what he had before him. “Uh, when am I supposed to talk to your dad? Before dinner, or after?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” She threw him a sharp glare, and he tried to look calm.

“Of course not.”

“James, are you nervous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is just another acting gig. It doesn’t mean anything.” He didn’t dare reveal the anxiety he was feeling. She might wonder why.

“Okay. You can do it before or after dinner. Whichever you prefer.”

“Okay, I’ll do it before I sit down to eat with them. I’ll admit to being a little tense. Don’t want to spoil my appetite,” he said, trying a chuckle.

A secret smile played across Elise’s beautiful lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Elise, what are you up to?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning to look at him, her green eyes wide.

Then she directed him to turn in at the next driveway. Before she could get out of the car, however, he caught her arm.

“Wait just a minute. Tell me what you meant.”

“James, we can’t sit out here. They’ll have been watching for us. They’ll think we’re—” She broke off, her cheeks red.

“Making out? They’ll think I can’t keep my hands off you? Yeah, that’s what they’ll think. So tell me what you meant before they think we’re indulging in a quickie.”

“James Dillon! How dare you—”

He planted a kiss on her open mouth and put into the kiss all the hunger he’d felt since Saturday.

When he finally lifted his head, he said, “You want to tell me now?”

“No,” she said, shoving away from him. She slipped out of the car before he could stop her.

But he’d definitely accomplished one thing. She looked decidedly kissed—like he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

Once inside, she introduced her parents. He liked them both. Her mother resembled Elise, except that she was much calmer. Mr. Foster was a genial man, welcoming him with a smile.

“Call me Sam,” he said as James greeted him.

“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate you and your wife inviting me over. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, son, likewise. Too bad we couldn’t have the whole family over. They’re all dying to meet you. But Margaret said you’d be overwhelmed.” He eyed James, and James straightened, trying to look comfortable but in control.

“Not sure Margaret was right. You look like you can handle yourself.

“I’ve had some experience in several areas.”

Elise and her mother were walking toward what he guessed was the kitchen. James leaned forward to say quietly, “I wonder if this might not be a good time for us to have a private chat.”

The look of surprise on the man’s face, and a smile on Elise’s face as she looked over her shoulder, made James wonder if she’d just played a trick on him.

Sam Foster led the way down a hallway and opened a door.

“In here. This is my room. No ladies allowed.” He grinned. “Which means it may not be too clean.”

“No problem,” James assured his host. His mouth suddenly seemed to be stuffed with cotton. He hated the thought of lying to this man.

After they both sat down, Sam smiled encouragingly but said nothing.

James cleared his throat, then opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

“Don’t be nervous, James,” Sam said. “It is James, isn’t it?”

James stiffened. “Of course.”

Sam grinned. “I thought so. The two of you look a lot alike, but you’re older, more the age for Elise.”

“The two of us?” James asked, his voice hoarse from strain.

“You and Bobby. Elise said something about Bobby being your stage name, but why would an advertising executive need a stage name?”

James swallowed a large lump in his throat. “Uh, you—you know about my agency?”

“Of course. Looked you up on the Internet.” Sam beamed at him and waved his hand toward the computer sitting on his desk. “My son, Chance, bought that for me my last birthday. He’s been teaching me how to use it. I can e-mail!”

James nodded approval as his mind frantically tried to figure out how to deal with this latest revelation.

“I put in both names and got pictures of two different guys, you and Bobby, but I figured you were kin because you looked alike. I guess Margaret got things wrong.”

“Uh, did you—did you tell anyone? Margaret or anyone?” James held his breath while the man considered his answer.

“Nope, can’t say I have. My wife loves to hear herself talk. She’s been discussing you nonstop. She wouldn’t believe me, anyhow.”

James leaned forward. “Sam, we need to talk.”

“That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but now we’ve
really
got to talk.”

“W
HERE DID
the men go?” Margaret asked as she carried a bowl of boiled potatoes to the table.

“I think Dad took James back to his room.”

“Oh, mercy, the poor man is going to think I’m a terrible housekeeper. Your father won’t let me touch that room. Says he’s afraid I’ll mess up his computer. Like he’d know the difference!”

“It’s all right, Mom. James won’t mind a little dust. I see you fixed the boiled potatoes.” Elise
couldn’t help smiling, hoping James hated the dishes as much as she did.

“Yes, and the cabbage, too. But I didn’t fix much. You know your father hates it. So I made meat loaf and green bean casserole. And I made a chocolate cake—my double-chocolate, three-layer cake. All your brothers-in-law love it.”

“Yes, I know, Mom.” Elise was feeling worse about her dirty trick now. Her mother prided herself on her cooking. She would be more disappointed than James when he didn’t like her cuisine.

Elise looked over her shoulder, but there was no sign of James or her father. Did that mean they were getting along? Of course, her father could get along with almost anyone.

Growing more nervous by the minute, she turned to her mother. “Should I go call Dad and James? We wouldn’t want the food to get cold.”

Her mother surveyed the carefully set table. “Of course, dear. Oh! I almost forgot the salad I made.” She whirled around and headed for the kitchen.

Now Elise really felt rotten. Her mother had used her best china, put her favorite tablecloth on the table, the one she had to iron. Margaret had gone to a lot of trouble, and the evening was going to be a disaster.

Elise needed to talk to James, to promise him whatever he wanted if he’d pretend to like boiled potatoes and cabbage.

She hurried down the hall and rapped on the closed door. “Dad? James? Mom says dinner’s ready.”

When her father opened the door, Elise hurriedly
studied his face. He gave her a broad smile. “Good! We’ve worked up an appetite.” Then, much to her surprise, he hugged her tightly. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

She was still standing there, staring after him as he headed to the dining room, when James spoke.

“Nice man.”

She whipped her head back around. “Yes. Yes, he is. A good father.”

“I could tell.”

“Uh, James,” Elise began, bringing her mind back to the difficulty. “I need a favor.”

“Okay.”

She straightened her shoulders. She hated confessing what she’d done. “I told Mom your favorite foods are boiled potatoes and cabbage.”

Staring at her, he shuddered. “You think I’m Irish?” he asked, grinning.

“No. I was—angry with you.”

He stepped closer and took her hands. “I guess I can understand that. What’s the favor?”

She licked her lips. “I want you to pretend to like cabbage and potatoes.”

He stared at her, saying nothing.

“Please, James? I didn’t think. Mom went to a lot of trouble to make the dinner what she thought you wanted. She’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Cabbage?” was his only response.

“Come on, James. You’re an actor. Please? I’ll owe you.”

“Hmm. What are you offering in return?”

“I don’t know.” She tried to think of something
she could do for him, but she was pretty sure he didn’t want to learn French verb conjugations.

A smile began on his face, then built to a radiance that matched the twinkle in his blue eyes. She began to worry.

“Okay. I’ll pretend to love cabbage and potatoes. And for every bite I take, I get one kiss.”

“Every bite? A kiss for every bite?” She drew a deep breath. “No! That’s ridiculous!”

Though his smile dimmed, it remained on his face. “Okay. No problem.”

“You’ll do it, anyway?” she asked hopefully.

“Not a chance. I hate cabbage.” He actually moved around her to head for the dining room.

“James! I’ll pay you.”

“I told you what I wanted.”

He stood waiting for an answer.

Elise tried to think of something else to offer, but she couldn’t come up with anything. Finally, drawing a deep breath, she asked, “Just kisses? Nothing else?”

“Sweetheart, your kisses will be about all I can handle, they’re so potent.” His smile brightened as he watched her.

“Okay.” She raised her chin. “But
I’m
the one keeping count!”

J
AMES FIGURED
he earned every kiss he intended to collect that night. But after ten bites, by his count, he decided he couldn’t handle any more. Particularly since he’d used bites of meat loaf to disguise the cabbage.

The potatoes were good, but filling. With the ad
dition of the tasty green bean casserole, James figured he’d eaten enough for a week. Then his hostess brought out a giant chocolate cake.

He tried to decline a piece, but Elise caught his eye, and he knew what she wanted. Not that he intended to charge her for the bites of cake. He’d throw those in for free.

When it came time to leave and Margaret kissed his cheek and welcomed him to the family, he felt bad. He and Sam exchanged handshakes. Sam had been remarkably understanding.

When he and Elise got in MaryBelle’s car, she muttered something.

He drove out of the driveway before he asked for a repeat.

“I said, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Ten.”

“Ten? What do you mean?”

He stopped at a red light and turned to look at her. “You know what I mean. I took ten bites.”

“You only took five. I watched.”

“Five of cabbage. And five of potatoes. That makes ten.”

“But you don’t hate potatoes!”

He grinned. “Nope, but I don’t usually eat a lot of them. Besides, you didn’t specify only cabbage. You asked me to pretend to like both of them.” He watched her struggle. It amazed him. Sylvia wouldn’t have hesitated to lie. She had not liked to lose…anything.

“Are you sure you’re not a lawyer? Specializing in contracts?”

“I’m sure. By the way, your parents are great people.”

“Yes, thank you. I regret deciding to do this…deception. I don’t like lying to them.”

“I know what you mean. But you do have a good reason,” he pointed out. Her father had agreed. He’d told James he worried about Elise.

“I guess. I think I was too much of a wimp to stand up to them. But it’s gone so far now, I don’t think I can call it off. Until after the wedding.”

He could feel her staring at him. He didn’t look at her as he made a turn.

“You do realize you’re going to disappear after the wedding, don’t you?”

“Sure. I’m going to Hollywood, right?” He tried to sound unconcerned, but somehow he was reluctant to consider the future. He was enjoying himself with Elise’s little masquerade. That was all, of course. He didn’t want anything serious.

But he did want to collect his kisses.

Anticipation rose as he pulled into a parking space by Mesa Blue. She reached for her door handle.

“Whoa, young lady. You’ve got a debt to pay.”

“Tonight?” she asked, a panicky look on her face.

“Tonight. I don’t believe in long-term debt.” Not when he’d been anticipating those kisses for several hours. She still held on to the door handle. “Of course, we can settle the debt in your apartment, if you want. There’s more room, more…privacy there.”

“No! No, I’ll pay up here.”

He was actually glad she didn’t invite him upstairs. With a bed in the vicinity, he wasn’t sure he’d
be able to keep his promise to limit their encounter only to kisses. When he touched her, every thought went out of his head.

“Okay. But you have to part company with the door, sweetheart. I don’t think my lips can find yours if you don’t.”

He gave thanks for MaryBelle’s car as he slid from under the steering wheel on the bench seat. His Mercedes had bucket seats. The leather might be softer than the plastic-covered seat of MaryBelle’s car, but necking wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

“You promised only kisses,” she reminded him as he reached for her.

He frowned. “You mean, I can’t hold you?”

She solemnly shook her head, staring at him.

“Okay, just lips. But come closer.”

She moved an inch away from the door.

“Come on, Elise, play fair.” He watched as she scooted closer. Again he thought of Sylvia. No way would she play fair. She never had.

When Elise finally moved to within a couple of inches, he slowly, gently, touched his lips to hers. Soft lips, tender, relenting, settled against his with a sigh. Slowly he increased the pressure, teasing her lips into opening to him.

When he finally lifted his head, he muttered, “That’s one.”

He noted her green eyes were dazed when she asked, “One what?”

“Never mind,” he whispered, and set his lips on hers again.

By the fourth kiss, her arms were around his neck and he was caressing every part of her he could
reach. And wishing for her bed. Her touch was magic—potent magic that made him forget any warnings he might have made to himself, any promises he’d given her.

When she finally broke away from him, he’d lost count of the kisses, but he was sure he had a few more coming. At least, he prayed he did. It would be like cutting off a man’s food source, leaving him to starve, if he didn’t.

“Elise,” he whispered as she shoved against him.

“No! No, that’s enough,” she said, her breathing rapid and shallow. “We have to stop!”

He guessed she was right. But right now, he thought stopping was the dumbest idea anyone had ever had.

“Elise—”

She wasn’t listening. Instead, she’d grabbed the door handle, opened the door and was getting out.

He hurriedly did the same, coming around the car to stop her escape. “Wait. I’ll—I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“No! Don’t call. I don’t want to talk to you.”

With a frown, he asked, “Then when will we get together next? You know, to—to make sure—”

“No more research. Do your research with Sandra,” she snapped. “I’ll call you when I have the details about the wedding. That’s all.”

She turned and ran, leaving him standing by his car, shocked and disappointed.

B
Y
F
RIDAY
, Elise had recovered from her necking session with James. If she didn’t think about it.

It was two days later, and her breathing would
grow labored, her heart would race and a yearning would fill her stomach if she let her mind drift to the time spent in James’s arms.

“Ridiculous!” she muttered under her breath.

“Did you say something?” Phoebe asked.

“Um, no. When will Daisy get here?”

“She called and said she’d meet us here at your place at six-thirty. She had to lock up and everything. Why? Are you hungry?”

They were all going to dinner together again.

“No. No, I’m just—impatient.”

“I thought you’d be going out with James. I was surprised when Daisy said you were available.” Phoebe cocked her head as she studied Elise. “Anything wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It—it was a long week.” A difficult week. Time spent with James. Time spent without James. She couldn’t figure out which was worse.

“Relax. I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Has she been out with Dave? I thought they kind of connected Monday night.”

“They’re going out tomorrow night. But you heard her say there was no spark.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Face it, Elise. Daisy is a romantic. You and I know there’s no such thing as a ‘spark.”’

Elise started to agree, but honesty wouldn’t let her. Spark? There was more than that. With James, she felt as if she was being consumed by a fire. It didn’t mean anything, of course. Except that they were attracted to each other.

“Um, well—”

“Elise!” a female voice screamed, and they could hear someone running down the hallway.

Both women sprang to the door. Elise stepped into the hallway to discover Frannie racing toward them. But instead of the panic and fear she’d expected to see on Frannie’s face, Elise saw delight, joy.

“Frannie, what is it?”

“Heavens to Betsy,” Phoebe added, “you scared us to death. I thought someone was after you.”

“Maybe,” Frannie said, beaming.

“Come in, Frannie, and make sense. Tell us what’s going on,” Elise ordered. Anything to keep her mind off James.