The Boss's Fake Fiancee (7 page)

“Thank you,” Garth replied, sending her a quick look as if to gauge her sincerity. “I bought it about five years ago. We updated a few things, but mostly left it as it was. The main house is almost one hundred years old, though Nan’s rooms are a more recent addition.”

“Has she always lived with you?”

“No. She prefers to live on her own. Or, I suppose, she
preferred
to live on her own. Until the pneumonia. Even she couldn’t fight this one. They had her in the hospital for almost a week.”

Melissa shot him a sideways glance. Though his expression had not changed, she was learning to identify the restrained emotion in his voice. The terse note spoke volumes about the pain the situation had caused. “She must have been glad to get out of there.”

Garth paused to adjust a painting that, to Melissa’s eyes, appeared perfectly straight. “The doctors wanted to keep her, but being at the hospital was making her sicker than the pneumonia. Nurses and doctors always coming and going. Noise, bright lights. No view of anything green and beautiful. And of course, no dogs. I think she misses them more than anything else.”

She nodded in understanding. “Before my niece was born, my sister-in-law Felicity had to spend a couple of weeks in the hospital with preeclampsia. She said the labor was easier than the hospital stay. She described it as a weird combination of being lonely and crowded, all at the same time.”

Garth shot her a surprised look. “That’s exactly what Nan said. She said if I didn’t get her released, she was going to walk out of there herself. And damned if she wouldn’t have tried it, too.”

“No place like home, I suppose.” Melissa stopped for a moment to admire a delicate Chinese vase. “My apartment isn’t much, but I must admit, I’ve grown pretty attached to it.”

“How long have you been there?” Garth asked.

“Just a year. It reminds me of our old house in Queens.” She smiled at the memory. “Everyone else in the family hated it because it was drafty and cold in the winter and hot and stuffy in the summer, but I loved that place. I liked to imagine the other kids who had lived there before me, and what their lives might have been like.”

“Do your parents still live there?” Garth asked.

“No, they sold the place when my dad retired. Now they have a little condo in SoHo. They like it because it’s close to museums and the art scene. But it’s not the same.”

She remembered how she’d cried when her dad told her that he’d sold the house. It had been one of their few fights—she’d felt betrayed by her parents’ failure to warn her that he was selling. She was already out of the house at the time, finishing up graduate school, so it wasn’t like they needed her permission. But she’d have bought the place in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity. Knowing it was gone felt like losing a piece of her childhood.

“You miss the old place,” Garth supplied.

She nodded, blinking back an unexpected wave of melancholy. “I do. What about you? Do you miss the house you grew up in?

“I moved a few times,” Garth said. “It wasn’t the same.”

Though his tone was dismissive, Melissa recalled with a wince that his parents had died when he was young. No wonder he was so attached to his grandmother.

They continued walking, stopping at the end of the hall. Garth rapped gently on a white-framed door. Melissa steeled herself. She was about to meet the woman he would, apparently, do anything to protect. She tried to picture an 85-year-old version of Garth who believed the stories she read in tabloids and loved little white dogs, but the picture wouldn’t compute. Then again, the deeper Melissa got into this house, the less any of this computed.

“Come in,” a high-pitched voice replied.

Garth opened the door to an expansive room, dominated on one end by an adjustable bed and a collection of red-eyed, blinking machines. A middle-aged woman—presumably the nurse—leaned over the bed, obscuring Melissa’s view of his grandmother, while a blood pressure machine beeped beside them. On the far end of the room, a set of French doors and a bank of windows looked out onto a veranda, gardens, and what appeared to be a swimming pool.

“No more talking,” the nurse reproved her patient. “It throws off the results.”

“Is everything okay?” Garth asked immediately.

“Fine,” the nurse replied, sounding as if she’d answered that question many times before. She wore a pair of thick-soled sneakers, white pants, and a multi-colored hospital scrub shirt. “Just doing the vitals.”

The machine gave a long
whoosh
and the nurse removed a Velcro arm cuff from her patient. “One fifty over ninety. That’s what you get for having two cups of coffee, Mrs. Solen.”

“I’m an old woman,” a high-pitched, querulous voice replied. “If I want an extra cup of coffee, I’m going to have it.”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “She’s all yours,” she said to Garth.

Melissa hadn’t realized that Garth had reached out to grab her hand until they were connected. He led her to the side of the bed.

“Nan,” he said. “This is Melissa Bencher. My fiancée.”

Chapter Eight

Garth’s grandmother sat upright in an adjustable bed. Her snowy hair had been carefully arranged into waves around her face, and she wore a simple white nightgown. Two spots of color flushed the apples of her cheeks, which were otherwise pale ivory. Her gray-blue eyes were sharp and focused, though her body appeared undeniably fragile.

Her smile—a stark contrast to her grandson’s tight-lipped grimace—could not have been more welcoming. Melissa tumbled straight in love with her gentle countenance.

“Ah, Melissa.” Nan leaned forward, gesturing for her to approach. “What a thrill to meet the woman who has stolen my grandson’s heart. Come closer and let me have a look at you.”

Melissa felt a sudden jolt of nervousness. Would the truth be written on her face?

She tugged on Garth’s hand so he would accompany her to his grandmother’s bedside. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Solen.”

“Oh my, call me Nan, dear!” She laughed, which set off a round of coughing. Her thin shoulders hunched, and Melissa shot a quick look at Garth, who had fixed a stare on his grandmother. The cough sounded deep and painful, though as soon as she recovered, Nan pulled herself upright and slapped a smile on her face.

“Do you want something to drink?” Garth asked. “Should we come back later?”

His expression barely changed, but Melissa couldn’t miss the dark flash of fear in his eyes. He might hide his emotions behind a mask, but it was not impenetrable.

“Oh Lord, no! I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I’m not going to miss it for a little cough. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get out of bed.” She touched the front of her nightgown and smiled at Melissa in apology. “You’ll have to forgive me for my informal attire.”

Melissa took in the wide, beaming smile, which showed no hint of hesitation or doubt, and immediately felt a stab of guilt.

Dear God, how could they lie to this woman?

On the other hand, how could they
not
?

“Please,” Melissa said. “No apologies necessary.”

Nan’s gaze dropped to Melissa’s left hand. “Is that…would you mind…”

Melissa laughed at her obvious intent. “Of course not.” She held out her hand for inspection.

Nan gave a happy sigh as she leaned over and examined the ring. “It’s absolutely beautiful.” She looked up at Garth, and Melissa saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Where did you find it?”

“Ten,” Garth said.

Nan smiled. “I met Tennyson years ago,” she said. She gripped Melissa’s hand tightly in her own. “He was working for some other store back then, and he helped me pick out a watch for Garth for his twenty-first birthday. Garth asked him for help finding a brooch for me and they’ve been working together ever since. Every year, they find something special for me for Christmas. Just like my Arthur used to, when he was alive.” She cast a fond glance at Garth. “It’s terribly extravagant, but—”

“But you love it,” Garth finished.

“I do.” She rubbed the side of her thumb across the face of Melissa’s ring. Her fingers were gnarled and twisted, arthritic knuckles protruding from the delicate skin. “And it’s perfect for your fiancée.” She turned to Melissa. “Please, sit down.”

Melissa sank into a comfortable armchair beside the bed as Nan continued. “Now, you’ll think me terribly nosy, but I’m hoping you’ll tell me all about how you and Garth met and fell in love. It must have been so sudden!”

A rush of heat burned Melissa’s cheeks. “Well…” She hesitated for a moment, half-hoping that Garth would break in with the story. When he did not, she fumbled ahead. “We, ah, work together. Garth hired me about three months ago to work at Solen Labs.”

Nan nodded. “I read that in the
Star
Herald
. I think that makes perfect sense, frankly. I’ve never understood why people say that a woman shouldn’t marry her boss. Why not? They’ve got a lot in common.”

“I believe that’s called sexual harassment these days, Nan,” Garth observed dryly.

“Pish,” Nan said, with a dismissive wave. “You could never harass anyone.”

“You can tell that to the jury.”

Nan ignored him and gazed back at Melissa. “And you must be smart if he hired you. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, does he?”

Melissa chuckled. “No, that’s for sure.”

“But it is rather unusual for him to date someone from work,” Nan said. She turned to Garth, her eyes dancing with excitement. “Tell me, when did you know she was the one?”

Garth paused just long enough for Melissa to squirm. They probably should have practiced answers to these sorts of questions. It would only take a few mistakes for the press—and her family—to start asking questions.

“Right from the start,” Garth said. “I tried to keep it professional, but we had a few late nights at the office, and then got to talking…” He shrugged. “The rest is history.”

Melissa wanted to roll her eyes at his uninspired telling. That was supposed to explain a whirlwind, three-month romance? The man had absolutely no imagination.

She leaned toward Nan with a mischievous grin. “I don’t care what people say, your grandson is a true romantic. For weeks he’s been showering me with gifts. Flowers, chocolates—even a robotic vacuum cleaner! And then there were the romantic evenings, the private dinners at restaurants, all carefully orchestrated to keep it a secret. Garth was worried if the press got involved it would ruin everything. He’s everything a girl could ask for. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Garth cleared his throat. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“You didn’t let
anyone
know?” Nan asked. She was practically twitching with excitement.

Melissa sighed. “You can’t imagine how hard it was—I almost died trying to keep it to myself. Being in the office together and pretending to be all business was the worst. But we made up for it when we were alone.” She fluttered her lashes at Garth. “Tell her about that thing you did.”

Garth sent her a dark look. “What thing?”

“You know, that wonderfully romantic night when you kidnapped me and took me on your private jet. Tell her about it.”

He did
have
a private jet, didn’t he?

“Oh,
that
night.” Garth came to stand behind her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, so quietly Nan could not have heard, “You’ll pay for this later, you know.”

His warm breath tickled her neck. She ignored the quiver in her stomach and smiled back at him in vindication. “Don’t worry,” she said in a loud stage whisper. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Nan clapped her hands together. “What did he do?”

“I flew us to the Bahamas for the weekend,” Garth said. “I reserved a private villa right on the beach. It was a little over the top, I know, but I couldn’t resist.”

“He was so nervous,” Melissa said to Nan, “when we got to the airport he was practically shaking. He really thought I might not like it! How silly can one man be?”

“You’re his true love,” Nan said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course he was nervous.”

Garth squeezed her shoulders. “But enough about me, sweetheart. Remember that incident with your bathing suit?” He winked at Nan. “They don’t make them like they used to, I suppose.”

Nan giggled. “And how did he propose?” she asked Melissa.

Melissa faltered. She glanced over at Garth. He crossed his arms over his chest, daring her to make up another story. His eyes lingered for just a moment on her lips, and Melissa had a sudden imagine of lying beside him on a beach. The warm sun on their bodies. A cold drink in her hand. Him rolling over for a long, slow kiss…

Flustered, she turned back to Nan. “It just happened,” she said quickly. “We were having dinner at my place. It had been a hard day and we were talking about taking a vacation together, maybe renting an apartment in Paris, or lounging on a beach in Mexico. On impulse, I opened a bottle of champagne I’d had in the cupboard for years, leftover from some New Year’s Eve party. We toasted, and—”

She stopped, horrified to realize that she’d somehow in her nervous state she’d started describing her last dinner with Mark. As they’d toasted to their future, she’d half-expected a proposal. Instead, his phone had buzzed. She’d been left with a bottle of wasted champagne and an empty seat at the table, thanks to the “emergency” call from Deanna. The next day, she’d come home from work early and found the two of them in the kitchen.

On the table.

“And?” Nan prompted. Her shoulders rounded as a deep hacking cough briefly overwhelmed her. When the spasm had passed, she glanced over at Garth. “What happened?”

Melissa suddenly found it difficult to speak, as the dark memory stole away the levity she’d been feeling. What
had
happened to her? How had she let herself get used like that? Had she always known the truth, deep down?

Brit had never liked Mark. He hadn’t complained about it openly. He didn’t need to. Melissa knew from his frown that he didn’t like them living together. Not that he’d been a big fan of marriage for himself at the time, but he’d been deeply suspicious of Mark’s intentions, particularly because Mark was so much older than she was. The fact that Mark had been Melissa’s thesis advisor, and her first serious boyfriend, hadn’t helped.

Was
that
one of the reasons she’d stayed with Mark so long? Some kind of childish rebellion?

Melissa shuddered inside. Damn. She really did need a therapist.

Abruptly, she realized both Garth and Nan were staring at her. “Um, where was I?” She stared up at Garth blankly, no longer even remembering what they’d been discussing.

“The proposal,” Garth prompted. “You tell it so much better than I do.”

Melissa forced a happy smile and directed her words at Nan. “It was the sweetest thing. Out of nowhere he looked into my eyes and said, ‘I don’t just want a vacation, Melissa. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?’ ”

Nan leaned back against the pillows, her hands clasped together. “That’s lovely!” She looked at Garth. “Well done.”

“Naturally,” he agreed, with a modest shrug of his shoulders.

“But incomplete,” Nan added.

Garth straightened. “What do you mean?”

Nan turned to Melissa. “Did he get down on one knee?”

Melissa considered. “No,” she said. “Now that you mention it, he didn’t.”

“Did he take you somewhere beautiful? Treat you like a queen? Plan a romantic moment that you’ll never forget?”

“Hmm.” Melissa tapped her chin. “No. And, well…no.”

“I always treat you like a queen,” Garth said. “Don’t I?”

“Of course you do.” Melissa shared a not-so-secret eye roll with Nan. Needling Garth was doing a lot to restore her mood.

Nan sniffed at Garth. “Women have certain needs, dear. You’ve never been particularly good at anticipating them.”

“But—”

“I’ll bet you didn’t even have a ring to give her.”

“We just bought the ring today,” Garth protested. “How could I have had a ring?”

“You get a
different
ring for the proposal,” Nan said, exasperated. “Something small and simple, just so you can have it when you ask her to marry you. If you’d have asked me, you would have known that.”

“Next time,” Garth drawled, “I will ask you to help me plan the whole thing, Nan.”

The older woman sailed on. “Don’t get snippy with me, young man. I’ll bet you haven’t even taken her to Seesaw. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Seesaw?” Garth raised a brow in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Melissa looked back and forth between them. She had no idea what “seesaw” meant, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could be more wonderful than watching Garth Solen get taken to task by his tiny scrap of a grandmother.

“We don’t have time,” Garth said. To Melissa’s mind, it seemed obvious that he was searching for an excuse. “We’re negotiating a major deal for ThinkSpeak. Maybe after that.”

“Make the time,” Nan ordered, the stern voice sounding strange, coming from her angelic countenance. “You’ve got a hundred employees to help you with your deal. I want you to go to Seesaw. I want you on one knee. And I want pictures.”

“What’s ‘seesaw’?” Melissa asked. Nan’s insistence had flustered Garth which, Melissa had to admit, she loved to see. He hadn’t been expecting this.

“It’s the house where my Arthur proposed to me,” Nan said. “And where Garth’s father proposed to his mother. It’s in Essex—a sweet place my father bought when he was young. Garth actually coined the name when he was a little boy. He loved the swing set and seesaw in the back.”

“You can’t really expect me to—” Garth started.

“Of course I can. I’m a selfish, demanding old woman. I can expect anything I want. And I want Melissa to visit Seesaw and have a proper proposal.”

Garth ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not selfish.”

“I’m trying to be.”

He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Nan dropped back into her pillows and gave him a contented smile. “I thought you would.”