The Magnate's Mail-Order Bride. Joanne Rock
father is livid at my brother’s antics.” Quinn’s voice was like a warm stroke against her ear. It gave her a pleasant shiver in spite of her nervousness. “I’d like to appease him, but it’s more important to me that you’re not embarrassed by this. How can I help?”
She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Ideally, I’d like a fiancé for the next three weeks until I have a ballet part on lockdown.” As soon as the words tumbled out, of course, she realized that was impossible. Cameron McNeill was already gone.
But Quinn did not look deterred. He nodded.
“Whatever I say, please know that it’s just for show.” His hand landed on her spine, a heated touch that seeped right through her mohair cape. “We’ll give a decoy statement to the media and then you and I can iron out some kind of formal press release afterward. But I can have you happily engaged and out of here in less than five minutes. Just follow my lead.”
She didn’t even have time to meet his eyes and see for herself his level of sincerity, because the cameras were rolling again, the bright light in her eyes. Excited whispering from the other dancers provided an uncomfortable background music for whatever performance Quinn McNeill was about to give.
Strange that, when her reputation hung in the balance, the main thing she noticed was how his hand palmed the small of her back with a surety and command even a dancing master would appreciate.
Her father hung back as the flashing red light on the Nikon handheld swung her way. Blinking while her eyes adjusted, she thought she saw her father reclaim the velvet ring box Cameron had left behind and hand it to Quinn. Which made sense, she supposed. The brother of empty gestures left a diamond behind while the practical brother reclaimed it. Hadn’t Cameron assured her Quinn would take care of everything?
“Ladies.” Quinn’s voice took on a very different quality as he turned to the camera and the small audience of her colleagues who clutched their cell phones, surely eager to send out updates on this little drama. “Forgive me for spiriting away Sofia earlier. In my eagerness to see her again, I failed to remember her interview with the magazine. I didn’t mean for a private moment to be caught on film.”
Sofia could almost hear the collective intake of breath. Or was that her own? Her stomach twisted, fearing what he might say next while at the same time she couldn’t make herself interrupt. Like any strong partner, he led with authority.
Besides, he said it was only for show.
“Where is your brother?” one of the reporters asked. “He said he couldn’t wait to meet his bride.”
No doubt they’d all been surfing the internet to figure out who Cameron and Quinn were.
“My brother was teasing. Cameron hadn’t met Sofia yet and, in the way brothers sometimes do...” He deployed a charming grin of his own, one even more disarming than his brother’s had been, only now she realized how practiced the gesture could be. “Cam only said that to rattle me on the day he knew I was going to ask her something very important myself.”
Quinn turned to her now, his blue eyes locking on her with an intensity that speared right down to her belly to stir an unexpected heat. Even when she knew with one hundred percent certainty it was all an act.
“He just so happened to have a ring in his pocket?” the reporter asked, gaze narrowed to search out the truth.
“I had no idea he brought an old ring of our mother’s from home,” Quinn continued easily. “Then he grabbed some flowers from the customer service desk.” He pointed out a half-empty vase nearby. “Trust me when I tell you, my brother doesn’t lack for a sense of humor—a somewhat twisted one.”
Even Sofia found herself wondering about his story. Quinn looked convincing enough, especially when he gazed down at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
She licked her lips, her mouth gone suddenly dry. She should say something. Prevent this farce that no one would ever believe. But then again...hadn’t she promised herself she would make this a performance worth watching?
A show of passion?
“Now—” his gaze never left hers even as he continued to address the media “—I am going to ask you to check Ms. Koslov’s schedule for a new interview time tomorrow. Because tonight, we have something private and wonderful to celebrate.”
Somewhere behind that bright light the camerawoman gave a quiet squeal of excitement while someone else—a colleague from the ballet company, no doubt—made a huff of disappointment. That the story hadn’t panned out how she’d wanted? Or that she’d have to wait until tomorrow for answers? A few people clapped halfheartedly. The dancers who had hoped for a scandal were clearly disappointed while Sofia wondered how she’d ever dared to ask Quinn McNeill for a temporary fiancé. She couldn’t believe he’d granted her wish.
And not with his brother but with Quinn himself as her fake groom.
The cameras captured every moment of this absurd dance as she clutched the bouquet in one hand while Quinn tucked the mysterious black-velvet box into the other. Then, leaving no doubt as to his meaning, he slanted his lips overs hers and kissed her.
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