Rent A Millionaire Groom. Judy Christenberry
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about Elise’s old-maid status. And she’d urged her other daughters to talk to Elise about her solitary state, also. It seemed at least one of them called every day.
The situation hadn’t been helped when she received a wedding invitation in the mail yesterday from her ex-fiancé.
Their engagement had ended twelve years ago, at the end of Elise’s senior year in college. She’d discovered Richard wasn’t interested in her, just in a good hostess for his blossoming career. She, of course, wasn’t expected to have a career. It might interfere with his.
Even the fact that this was his second wedding didn’t settle her stomach. Nor did the fact that she didn’t want a husband.
But she wanted a fiancé badly.
That thought had been running around her mind for several days. A fiancé—temporary, of course—would get her sisters and her mother off her back. And she wouldn’t feel she had to justify choosing to be alone every time she was introduced to someone new at her sister’s wedding.
If she had a best friend, a hunk, hanging around, she’d ask him to do her a favor and pretend for a few days that he couldn’t live without her.
But all her friends were female.
With a sigh she settled back in her chair. Her gaze lit on the book she’d bought, 2001 WAYS TO WED. If she were searching for a real husband…but she wasn’t. She had kept the book, however, to study it before she passed it over to Phoebe.
Maybe she should “hire” a fiancé. But that would mean going to an escort service. She’d heard those places were…distasteful. Besides, she wanted someone who would draw envy from her sisters. She wanted Prince Charming.
She picked up the book and idly flipped through it. She’d already read it several times. Then, suddenly, she sat upright in her chair. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
The chapter entitled “Don’t Forget Your Neighbors” had given her an idea. She didn’t have any neighbors at home who would do. But at work, that was another matter. ASU had an excellent Drama Department. She could hire a starving actor to be her fiancé.
She hurried from her office. One of her fellow professors, Dr. Grable, had worked with the Drama Department last semester when they’d been producing one of Molière’s plays. Maybe she could recommend someone.
Several hours later, after teaching her two o’clock class and delicately questioning Cecille Grable, Elise took a deep breath and headed for the Drama Department.
Cecille’s response kept playing in her mind. “Well, if you’re looking for what the young ladies today call a hunk, I’d recommend Bobby Dillon. He’s a teaching assistant, a little older than the college students, but he grabs the eye. If one is interested in such things.” Cecille, nearing retirement age, had a twinkle in her eye that told Elise even she was still interested in such things.
Elise opened the door to the semi-dark auditorium and slid into the last row of seats, hoping her eyes would adjust quickly to the dim light. On stage, a number of students were going through their lines.
How was she going to identify the young man? And heavens, she hoped he didn’t look too young. There were several handsome young men on stage, but—
“Repeat that line. I couldn’t hear it at all.”
The deep, silky voice that gave the command came from the center of the auditorium. Elise hadn’t noticed the man slumped down in his chair.
The voice alone made him perfect for her needs. He could read the telephone directory and she’d be enthralled. No wonder he was in the Drama Department. He had a great future ahead of him.
Of course, she also hoped he was handsome. But Cecille had said—
The house lights came up and the man stood. Tall, broad-shouldered, trim. So far so good. Elise quickly rose and hurried down the aisle, determined to catch him before he moved to the stage and they had an audience.
“Mr. Dillon?” she called softly.
He’d just reached the end of the row of seats and he spun around, as if startled. With a frown, he replied, “Yes?”
“May I have a word with you?”
He didn’t look any too happy, so she quickly added, “It’s about a job.”
He stared at her, and she felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t used to such concentrated interest. He began, “The normal channels—”
“It’s—it’s personal. I mean, I don’t need you to appear on stage, but—it’s rather difficult to explain. I’ll be glad to buy you a cup of coffee while I try to make it clear. I haven’t figured out how much to offer you, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
“You’re offering me a job?”
His surprise didn’t make sense, unless it was caused by his pride. “Why, yes. Please don’t be embarrassed. I understand acting jobs aren’t too plentiful unless you’re in Hollywood.” He continued to stare at her. “You are Bobby Dillon, aren’t you?”
His eyes seemed to widen. Then, after a quick look over his shoulder, he said, “Yes, that’s me. I’m—I’m Bobby Dillon.”
And Cecille had been right. He was perfect. “If you don’t want to go to the Student Union, there’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks over. Shall I meet you there in—” she paused to look at her watch “—fifteen minutes?”
“All right,” he agreed.
She stuck out her hand to seal the agreement, almost afraid he wouldn’t show. “I’ll see you there.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
She could feel his gaze on her as she walked out of the auditorium, and for the first time in her life she wished she had Phoebe’s knockout looks.
She wasn’t much of a match for the Prince Charming she’d just found.
JAMES DILLON STARED at the young woman walking away. Her neat figure would attract almost any man, but it was the anxious expression in her green eyes that had caught his attention.
That and the offer of a job.
He chuckled, a sound not often heard of late. There hadn’t been a lot to laugh about. Which explained why he was hanging out on campus, visiting his brother, the apparently famous Bobby Dillon.
“Who was that?” Bobby asked, coming up behind him.
“I’m not sure.”
Bobby shrugged. “Well, thanks for helping me out. I was pretty sure Sandy wasn’t projecting, but I needed to be on stage to keep the pace going.”
“Glad to be of assistance.” James was barely following Bobby’s words. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. She wasn’t a student—not dressed in that suit. Her light brown hair had been pulled back with a clasp, small gold earrings on her ears. Nothing flashy, suggestive or even inviting.
The opposite of Sylvia, his ex-wife, thank God.
“So, I’ll see you later?” Bobby asked, turning back toward the stage. “Or you’re welcome to hang around for the next class, if you want.”
“Uh, no, thanks, I’ve got—got some things to do. See you later.”
Bobby called an agreement over his shoulder, leaving James free to concentrate on the mystery woman.
Her request had seemed really important to her. Of course, he knew it was unfair to let her think he was Bobby. After he heard her offer, he’d probably have to confess his lie. But just for a while, for an hour, he could be someone other than James Dillon, wealthy businessman, pursued by women all over Arizona.
Lately, being James Dillon hadn’t been much fun.
So dressed in jeans,