The Fake Fiancée. Megan Kelly
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hovered inside the open front door.
“Bobby, Abby.” Lisa reached toward them. “It’s okay.”
“It isn’t either okay,” Abby said, sounding younger than eight. “He was yelling at you.”
Ginger stepped forward. “Do you want me to wait with the kids on the porch?”
Shaking her head at the offer, Lisa took her children’s hands. She needed to deal with this now, to explain about grown-up arguments. Her ex had never argued with her in front of them. He’d just packed his bags and run—with all their money and his new office trainee. She didn’t like to think what Brad had been training Lacey to do.
She shook herself back to the present moment. Had Joe shouted at her? She didn’t think so. She’d been the one near to screaming. “Mr. Riley wasn’t yelling.”
Bobby stuck out a stiff bottom lip. “You were fighting.”
“We were having a disagreement.” She shook their arms teasingly. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I sounded like the two of you.”
The children glared at Joe from under lowered brows.
“He’s a bad man,” Bobby proclaimed. He yanked his hand free from his mother’s grasp.
“Bobby!”
He ran over and kicked Joe in the shin. Joe grunted and grabbed his leg, hopping a few steps. Ginger covered her mouth, and, knowing her friend’s sense of humor, Lisa hoped Ginger wouldn’t laugh out loud at the sight Joe made. She glared at her son. “Robert Alexander! We do not kick people. You apologize to Mr. Riley right now.”
Bobby pinched his lips together and glanced at her. Abby tried to pull away, and Lisa tightened her grip. “Bobby,” she warned him.
“No!” And off he ran.
“It’s all right, really,” Joe said with an effort. “I can understand how he’d feel, witnessing our disagreement.”
Lisa glanced at Abby. Those ever-straying tendrils of fine blond hair stuck to her cheeks. Lisa softened her voice. “Go on up to your room.”
The girl stalked away, turning to glare at Joe before disappearing up the stairs.
“I’m sorry.” Lisa shook her head. “I hate to say this because I know how it sounds, but they’re usually good kids.”
Joe’s small, tight smile betrayed his doubt. “I’m sure they are. Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She crossed her arms. “What happened with the children doesn’t change anything as far as we’re concerned.”
He nodded. “I understand. I presented this badly. Let me leave you my business card, and I’ll get back to you.”
She inhaled deeply. He didn’t listen too well, but she’d give him points for persistence. She took his card, careful not to touch him. “I’ll accept your card, Mr. Riley, but I’ll never accept your deal.”
Chapter Two
Lisa opened the door. Joe nodded to Ginger on his way out.
“Hoo-ee!” Ginger gawked after him. “Who was that?”
Lisa rubbed the tension from her temple. “Opportunity, unfortunately. I just lost that huge Riley and Ross job.”
“Which one is he?” Ginger’s gaze remained fixed outside.
“Riley.” Lisa watched his royal-blue convertible pull from the curb then slammed the door. “And good riddance.”
“I wouldn’t be so happy to see him walk away. Although he did have an excellent backside.”
Lisa shot her a wry look. “I’ll be sure to tell Kyle you think so.”
Ginger laughed. “Like he’d worry. The big lug knows I’m crazy for him.”
Lisa gathered up the glasses and took the tray back to the kitchen. She sighed. “There went that. What am I going to do?”
Ginger slid onto the bar stool at the kitchen counter. “Why did he come here to talk to you personally? Your bid couldn’t have been too far off.”
Lisa grimaced. “I have no idea where my bid was. He came for something else entirely.” She poured Ginger an iced tea and filled her in on the details.
Ginger stared out the window, one tangerine fingernail tapping against her glass. Lisa didn’t like the calculating look in her friend’s eyes. Although her hair fell to her shoulders in apricot waves, Ginger had a redhead’s temperament. She was bound to be plotting a nasty revenge for Joe Riley.
“I think you should do it,” Ginger said.
Lisa gaped. “What?”
“Seriously, hear me out. You get the R & R job, right?”
“Presumably, but—”
“No, just listen. You get to show off your catering skills. Lots of people find out how great you are. You’ll get loads of jobs, and you can pay off more of your debt.”
“But I’ll have to lie to his parents.”
“His relationship with them already stinks, right, if he’s doing this? You’re not changing anything. You come out ahead.”
“Ginger, he’s just like Brad. Lying to take the easy way out. Deceiving people who love him. I can’t have any part in that.”
After a moment, Ginger squeezed Lisa’s arm. “Of course you can’t. What was I thinking?” She rose. “I’d better get home.”
“Did Bobby behave?” Lisa dreaded the answer, especially after he’d just kicked Joe. Bobby’s emotions had teetered unpredictably since Brad left eighteen months earlier. Brad hadn’t said goodbye to the kids. One night, he just hadn’t come home. Only after hours of her worrying and frantic voice mails had he answered his cell phone.
“I’m not coming back,” he’d said. Then the phone went silent. He hadn’t used it since, according to the investigator she’d hired to track him down.
Another expense she couldn’t afford.
Abby had cried for days, then withdrawn, not talking about her dad again. Bobby had been sure Daddy would come home, but as time passed, his certainty turned to anger. The school psychologist, Mr. Swanson, advised Lisa to let them come to her when they were ready to talk. But “not pushing the subject” didn’t seem to be helping either child.
“He was good,” Ginger said. “No outbursts. He loved the arcade games.”
Lisa went boneless with relief, only then realizing she’d braced herself for a bad report. “Thanks for taking the kids out. I got a lot of flowers done and all my cookies baked.”
Ginger waved away her thanks with a distinct gleam in her eye. “My pleasure. It’s, you know, good practice to be around them.”
Lisa squealed and rushed to her, grabbing her arms. Her friend’s smile could have lit up Country Club Plaza for the entire Christmas season. “Are you—?”
“No, but we’re trying.” Ginger giggled. “Lordy, are we trying. If I’d known how much fun it was to conceive, we’d have started years ago.”
“It’s not like you haven’t had sex, Gin. You’ve been married for four years.”
“Yeah, but now we tangle the sheets with a purpose. Each time, after, we think, ‘Was that it? Did we just make a baby?’” She rubbed the bridge of her nose self-consciously. “Dopey, huh?”
Lisa hugged her. “No, it’s very sweet and special, like you. Good luck with this.”
“We don’t need luck,” Ginger