Christmas Wedding. Pamela Macaluso
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come?”
“Yes. I’ll come.”
“Doug, he said he’d come!” Joanna called out. “Doug says he’s glad. Now, I want you to come down the week before, so we can do the tuxedo measurement thing and you can help me with all the last-minute stuff.”
“Isn’t that what bridesmaids are for?”
“Oh, they’ll be here, too. But you’re my brother. I want you around the last week.”
“I can have my measurements taken here and faxed to you, then come down the morning of the wedding. How’s that?”
“Jesse—”
“Don’t you dare say please again, Joanna. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Okay. Oh, and bring a date if you want.”
Later that same afternoon Jesse was thinking about his conversation with his sister and wishing the whole wedding was over and done with. He knew the family event would attract Tylers from all around the country.
He pictured them all outside soaking up the December Florida sunshine. Suddenly the growl of a motorcycle engine catches their attention. He rides up the driveway on his red Yankee.
Sitting on the passenger seat behind him would be his “date.” Her body pressed against him, her hair flowing out behind.
Of course it couldn’t really happen this way. Not with helmet laws, but this was his fantasy so her hair could flutter in the breeze.
He sat up with a jolt when he realized the woman’s hair was strawberry blond....
* * *
Holly turned her Harley-Davidson into the parking lot of the tattoo shop. Parking to the far right, she left the center spaces for customers. There was a Jeep Cherokee in one of them, and her father’s bike was on the far left.
She set the bike on its kickstand and got off. Reaching into one of the leather saddlebags, she pulled out the bag of fabric samples she’d collected for use in a homework assignment. If it was a slow afternoon at work, she would be able to get started on it. One of the perks of working in a family business.
After entering the shop, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer lighting. When they did, she saw her father standing next to Jesse Tyler.
Was he here about the lawsuit again?
Jesse was wearing a business suit, which made her nervous.
But her father was smiling. That was a good sign.
She walked past the men and went to stand behind the counter, tucking her bag onto one of the shelves. “Change your mind about a tattoo, Mr. Tyler?”
“No, I was hoping to take you out for coffee. There’s a business proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
Were the rumors true that Yankee was looking into creating a line of clothing? Had he found out she was studying to be a designer?
Holly slammed on her mental brakes before her imagination could get carried away any further with the unlikely scenario.
But whatever did he mean by “a business proposition”? “Can we talk here? I’ve just come back from my lunch break.”
Red spoke up. “Things have been slow. Go ahead and take an extended lunch.”
“But—”
“I insist.”
Holly shrugged. “All right, then.”
They walked to the door. Jesse held it open for her.
“Where to?” she asked.
“How’s the Coffee Bean?”
The Coffee Bean was a trendy spot specializing in a variety of flavored coffees, espresso, cappuccino and desserts. It was about a mile from the shop. “That’s fine.”
Jesse looked toward where Holly had parked. “Is that your bike?”
“Yes.” She was proud of her purple and silver Harley-Davidson FXR Low Rider.
“That’s a lot of motorcycle for a woman.”
“I’m aware of that, but I can handle it.”
She thought he was going to say more. Instead he helped her into the front seat of the Cherokee, then went around and got into the driver’s seat.
Holly watched him as he drove, his movements controlled and precise. She wondered if he rode his motorcycle that way, too...or if he made love that way.
When the silence got to be too much, she asked, “What is it you wanted to discuss? Tiny’s tattoo?”
Jesse kept his eyes on the road. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss the tattoo or any pending lawsuit without my lawyer present. What I want to talk about is a job offer of sorts.”
She was tempted to point out that she had a job working for her father, but the slim chance that it might be a fashion design job he was talking about kept her quiet.
Their arrival at their destination cut the conversation short, and the subject didn’t come up again until they had been seated and had given their orders to the waitress.
“Now then, Ms. Bryant, how would you like a one-week, all-expenses-paid trip to Lake Wyndham? Plus salary.”
The mention of the exclusive south Florida community, second only to Palm Beach in its wealth and old money status, made Holly suspicious. “Just what would this job entail?”
“Essentially, it’s an acting job.”
“An acting job. Shouldn’t you call a talent agent?”
“Let’s say I’m typecasting.”
“Typecasting? Why would you be looking for someone to play a tattoo artist’s assistant?”
“I’m looking for a woman to play the part of my fiancée for a week.”
She tilted her head to one side. “You think I look like the kind of woman you would marry?” The article she’d glanced at to learn his identity had linked his name with a prominent performance artist, several supermodels and a politician’s daughter.
He paused. “You look like the type of woman my parents would expect me to marry.”
She wanted to ask what kind of parents he had.
Jesse had only seen her in her black leather biker outfits and the hot pink jumpsuit she was wearing today—her work costumes. Would she be dressing this way in Lake Wyndham?
Would her school wardrobe be appropriate, or would she have to dig out some of the clothes she wore on visits to her mother and stepfather? But he said he was typecasting... “If I look the part, I’m assuming I don’t need a new wardrobe for the trip?”
“Everything I’ve seen you in would be fine. If you’d like, though, I’ll throw in a clothing allowance on top of the salary. All I ask is that you don’t pick anything stuffy or conservative.”
Now she was really curious about his parents. She knew anything he’d seen her in would shock most of the Lake Wyndham crowd. “I don’t know. Can I think about this and get back to you?”
He took out a business card. “I’ll put the dates here on the back.” He held the card out to her.
She took it. The tips of her fingers brushed briefly against his. His skin was warm. She wondered what it would feel like to hold hands with him.
If they were pretending to be engaged, wouldn’t there be at least that much, and probably more, physical contact between them? She tucked the card into her pocket. “Just how far does this acting job go? I mean, you’re not expecting me to sleep with you or anything?”
A streak of color highlighted