The Fake Fiancée. Megan Kelly
imagined her upcoming performance, duping that fragile old woman into believing her son’s happiness was assured. Tricking Mrs. Riley in her last days would secure Lisa a long stay in purgatory.
She dumped the dishes on the stainless steel counter and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. The hall’s kitchen made her salivate with envy. Cool, smooth metal expanses of countertops, an industrial-size fridge, two freezers, three ovens…
Lisa reined in her yearning. She didn’t need this much equipment, not for her simple operation. The scope of the night’s party had been huge enough. Even with Ginger’s assistance, getting everything here and setting up had depleted her enthusiasm for catering large jobs. She should have hired more servers, but she simply couldn’t afford them. Ginger had offered her help for free, but Lisa insisted on paying her.
She couldn’t bring herself to take anything more from anyone. In addition to paying back loans from half the banks in town, she had to repay Joe Riley. With her affection.
The back of her right eyeball cramped.
Deceiving Mrs. Riley into thinking she loved Joe would take an acting job worthy of an Academy Award. No wonder she felt a migraine intensifying.
Ginger backed through the large swing doors into the kitchen, her arms laden with a tray of dirty dishes. She set it on the worktable and guzzled a drink from her water bottle. “Wow, they really love your stuff. I bet you get tons of catering calls after tonight.”
“I hope so,” Lisa said. “Don’t worry, though. If I do, I’ll hire some college kids to help out.”
“It’s kind of fun. Although it is harder than trying to make a baby, which is what I have to get home to do.” She referred to her fertility cycle, a timetable for conception she and her husband called the Baby Project.
Lisa glanced at her watch. “Oh, Ginger, go on ahead. Kyle should be home from his meeting by now.”
Ginger grimaced but removed her apron. “I hate to leave you with so many dishes. I have time to set out some more petit fours.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve been a huge help all night, and while you’re ovulating, no less.”
They laughed, and Lisa hugged her. “Now, go. Babies are way more important than those women getting more cake.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.”
“I don’t know about that, but I am the boss tonight.”
With a wave, Ginger headed out the back door.
Lisa loaded a tray with petit fours, amazed at how many she’d already served. By the look of the leftovers, the guests had bypassed most of the candies she’d slaved over, but had taken to the cookies and the petit fours, small bites of cake, which she’d iced and decorated with individual rosebuds. Decorating cookies required a lot more work, as well as the initial cutting out and baking, but maybe she ought to consider cookie bouquets for her slow periods. College parents at the Kansas City universities might go for small care packages, especially around the holidays or exam time.
“I thought I’d find you in here.”
Lisa dropped a petit four on another, smashing an iced flower. She ground her teeth then fixed a smile in place before facing Joe. Might as well start rehearsing now. She needed all the practice she could get pretending affection for someone putting her through such turmoil.
Of course he looked gorgeous, which should have helped the pretense but only made her more miserable. Why did he have to have the upper hand in everything? She felt as though she’d been working in a sweatshop all evening, while Joe looked sensational in a black suit, which made his black hair shine.
She bit back the temptation to tell him he looked handsome. Surely he heard that from women all the time, women who weren’t pretending, women whose opinions mattered. She clamped her lips together.
“Are you hiding from my mother?”
“Absolutely.”
His eyes widened, then he laughed. “For some reason, I thought you’d deny it.”
She lifted a brow at him. “Some people enjoy honesty, Mr. Riley. Keeping track of lies is too exhausting.”
His smile turned glacial. “Some people just can’t loosen up. Anal, I believe Freud called it. Or just self-righteous.”
Lisa flushed. When had she gotten to be such a sourpuss? Oh, yeah. Brad. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
He looked genuinely surprised. “About meeting my mom? You shouldn’t be. Mom’s a sweetie pie.”
She crossed her arms. “Then what was all that about our practicing kissing so she wouldn’t see through our act? A bloodhound, I think you called her.”
Joe grinned, showing his dimples. “I’m glad you reminded me. That’s still a great idea.”
“Forget it, buster.” Lisa fought a giggle and lost. “You’re looking for practice in all the wrong places.”
“Nerves are making you hysterical. Let’s go meet Mom and Dad and get this over with.”
Her feet stuck to the floor. “Mom and Dad?”
“Sure, didn’t I tell you? Mom’s president of the Garden Society. Next to the Rose Exhibit, this is her big event. Naturally Dad came to support her.”
“No,” she said, her voice squeezing out of her tight throat. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. “You didn’t mention it.”
“Didn’t Mom contact you about catering tonight?”
She rubbed her throbbing temple. “I dealt with the event coordinator, Lainey Perkins. I didn’t know your mom was president.”
He frowned. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I guess not. I just got this sick feeling in my stomach when you told me.” She tried to laugh it off. “What difference could it possibly make?”
“Atta girl.” Joe put his hand on the small of her back. He imagined her slender body perfectly curled into his. Her shiny blond hair would tickle like corn silk against his cheek. He enjoyed the warmth beneath his hand. Her derriere curved out right below. He could slide his hand down and—
And Lisa would smash an entire tray of desserts in his face. Joe smiled as he led her across the room. He enjoyed the fire of her temper, the challenge in her blue eyes. She didn’t make it easy for him to “court” her, but he relished the chase. “There they are.”
Lisa stumbled. He felt her stiffen as they neared and draped his arm across her back.
He tried to see them as Lisa would, but to Joe, they were just Mom and Dad. Joe inspected his mother’s face for too much or too little color, but she appeared hale and hearty, despite the pressures of the evening. He let out a relieved breath. His dad beamed with pride, as if Mom had not only put this shindig together single-handedly but grown all the flowers, too. Joe felt that same satisfaction.
His mother watched their approach. He raised his voice to get his father’s attention. “Mom, Dad. This is Lisa Meyer. Lisa, these are my parents, Alice and Mike Riley.”
His dad encompassed her small hand with both of his. The warm, open smile on his face said better than his words how much he enjoyed meeting her. Lisa had helped make the party a success for his wife, and she was with Joe. That made her okay with his dad.
Joe glanced at his mom. She was sizing Lisa up, he noticed with fond amusement.
“So nice to meet you.” His mom held out her hand to Lisa. “I’ve heard nothing but praise around the tables this evening, both for the taste of the desserts and for your smooth expertise in serving.”
“Thank you.” Lisa swallowed visibly. “It’s nice of you to say so. I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen