Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement / Tempted Into the Tycoon's Trap: Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement. Emily McKay
“You won a Golden Globe and were nominated for an Oscar. This will be cake.”
“Cake,” she echoed in disbelief. “I might as well be engaged to the devil. I was married to a man who only wanted me for—” She broke off. The memory of all that had taken place between her and her husband was still too painful. “I can’t pretend that way again.”
“You can for your sister,” he countered.
Gwen stomped to the front closet and grabbed her boots. She felt so trapped, so impotent that she could scream. This would be a fine time to muck out the stalls. Heaven knew, she needed to work off some of her extra energy threatening to erupt any second. She kicked off her shoes and shoved her feet into the boots, trying to ignore the tall, imposing figure of Luc Hudson standing three feet away from her.
“Where do you want me to stay while I’m here? You have a guest room?”
A few searing, scathing responses kicked through her brain about exactly where she would like Luc to go, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying them.
He gave a wry chuckle. “I realize you’d prefer I stay in the barn,” he said.
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to punish the horses,” she said. “Go down the hallway and take the second door on the right. It has a brass bed and a sheepskin rug on the floor beside it. You can have that room,” she said and left the house with a small sense of satisfaction. Although putting Luc in that bedroom meant he would be sleeping next door to her, entirely too close for her comfort, she loved the idea that he would be living in a pink room for the time he was here. She’d decorated the room with Nicki in mind, so the walls were pink, the balloon shades fashioned from a French floral sateen of pink and blue that matched the floral quilt on the bed. A lace bedskirt coordinated with lace pillows on the bed and a cozy pastel blue upholstered rocker sat beside the bed.
All that pink would drive Luc, a man dripping with masculinity, out of his mind. And if she were lucky, out of her house and life.
Luc carried his suitcase into his assigned room and surveyed his new digs. He wiped his hand over his eyes and face. The girly room was a far cry from the clean, cool lines of his contemporary home decorated in black and white. Glancing at the puffy window treatments, he felt his skin begin to itch as if he were having an allergic reaction.
How was he supposed to get any work done in this room? The dresser was covered with girly knickknacks. Luc couldn’t stand clutter. His job was to fix the clutter and chaos that other people created. That was the reason he was here.
His mind wandered to the woman who would help him carry off the charade. She was even more potent in person than she’d been onscreen. With each change of emotion, her expressive eyes and face grabbed and held his attention. Luc was good at reading people within the first thirty seconds of a personal meeting, but Gwen was too complex.
It hadn’t been necessary to read her dossier. Her history had been splashed on every magazine and newspaper. Rumors had swirled that her affair with a costar had caused the demise of her high-profile marriage to one of Hollywood’s top producers. Then she’d disappeared.
Her beauty and talent obviously had not disappeared. Neither had the simmering sensuality that boiled beneath her composed surface. If Luc hadn’t learned his lesson about getting involved with actresses, he would be tempted to learn Gwen’s secrets in and out of bed, but he knew better.
His cell phone rang, and he immediately identified the ring that belonged to his brother Max. “Hey, I made it.”
“I decided I should check, since I hadn’t heard from you.”
“It took me longer than I expected to rent the SUV. Gwen’s ranch is dead center in the middle of nowhere. You can tell she wanted to leave the ‘City of Angels’ far behind.”
“How did she respond to the news?”
“Depends on which news,” Luc said, moving closer to the window and studying how to disconnect the curtains. “She was upset about Nicki, wanted to go see her.”
“You nixed that,” his brother said.
“Yeah.”
“And how did the lovely lady feel about your impending nuptials?” his brother cracked.
Luc frowned and shook his head. “The things I do for the family business. Let’s just put it this way—I’m glad she didn’t have any sharp instruments close by when I told her.”
Max gave a low chuckle. “You mean she wasn’t dying to get involved with one of the town’s most sought-after bachelors?”
“You’re having a little too much fun with this.”
“Maybe you could have some fun too if you play your cards right. Gwen McCord was damn hot. Didn’t she make the sexiest females list of some magazine years ago?”
Several magazines. Luc recalled one particularly memorable shot of her from one of her movies where she was dressed in a man’s unbuttoned shirt and nothing else. The photograph had exposed a generous amount of creamy cleavage, hinted at dusky nipples beneath and revealed shapely legs that went on forever. The tip of her tongue touching her upper lip and long bangs covering one of her eyes was the stuff to fuel the fantasies of millions of men young and old. Luc pushed the arousing image from his mind. “The only way Gwen is hot right now is how furious she is with me and the Hudsons.”
“Oh, she’s lost her looks already?”
“No,” Luc said in exasperation. “She’s still beautiful, but she’s angry that she’s been forced into this engagement.”
“She ought to be grateful we got her crazy sister in rehab so quickly,” Max said.
“She is. She just doesn’t want to be dragged into the public eye again.” Opening the closet door, he found it mostly empty. Relief oozed through him. Thank God. He could stuff the knickknacks and lacy crap in there.
“You think she’ll go along with it?” his brother asked.
“She doesn’t have a choice. That’s why she’s so pissed,” Luc said. “Her frustration isn’t important as long as she cooperates.”
“I’ve heard that take-no-prisoners tone from you before,” Max said. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or her.”
“I don’t need any pity,” Luc said, glancing at the pink walls and grinding his teeth. “I can take care of myself.”
After Gwen mucked out the stalls and fed the horses, she returned to the house, still bothered, but under control. She temporarily left her boots at the front door and made her way toward her bedroom. The smell of something delicious wafted from the kitchen. The door to the room where Luc Hudson would be sleeping was open. When she glanced inside, she nearly got whiplash.
Luc sat in the blue chair working on his laptop, but the curtains were gone, along with all the pillows, the collection of figurines and porcelain jewelry boxes and every picture on the wall. A dark comforter she suspected he’d found in the hall linen closet covered the bed. The windows were bare.
She stepped inside. “Where are—”
“In the closet,” he said before she could finish. He stood. “I did some temporary redecorating. I’ll put it all back before I leave. Although the furnishings were—” he paused a half beat “—lovely, they were distracting. I have to be able to concentrate on my work.”
She glanced at the bare windows and nodded. “Okay,” she said. He would be waking up at the crack of dawn, but that wasn’t her problem. “No problem. “What do I sme—”
“My chef prepared a couple of meals before I left,” Luc said. “When I told her I was leaving for Montana, she was convinced I was going to be stuck in the wilderness in a blizzard.” He glanced outside the window at the falling snow. “She was half-right. Are you hungry?”