Rent A Millionaire Groom. Judy Christenberry
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“Actually, I’m not as young as you might think,” he admitted, avoiding her gaze. “I came back to ASU after trying my luck on the job market. I discovered I’m more interested in creating drama than I am in acting.” At least, that’s what his brother Bobby had told him when Bobby had made the decision to return to college after a couple of years in Los Angeles.
“Really? Do you write plays?”
“I’m working on a couple. Nothing that’s been bought yet.”
“That’s wonderful, James,” she said eagerly.
He wasn’t sure why that news pleased her so, but he had no objection to making her happy. She was practically beaming at him.
“You prefer a playwright to an actor?”
Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “It just seems more—more interesting, actually. One of my friends is creative. She has a gallery nearby called Native Art. But her greatest happiness comes when she creates her own art.”
“Hey, I’ve been in that store. She has some nice stuff. And she’s done some of it?” He put his hand on her back to guide her down the stairs, liking the warmth of her, a soft floral scent drifting to his nostrils.
“Actually, no. She creates pottery for her friends, but she won’t put her own work in the store. She doesn’t think it’s good enough.”
“Creative people are often unsure of themselves.” He dealt with employees like Elise’s friend. Brilliant people, but their mood swings sometimes made them difficult to work with.
“Are you?”
It took him a minute to figure out what she was asking. “Uh, I suppose we all are unsure of ourselves sometimes.”
When he and Sylvia had divorced, the anger in him had fueled his first few years, leaving him no room for self-doubt. By the time the anger had dissipated, he’d risen so high in the business, he had a history to fall back on. He hadn’t thought of his past like that. Maybe he owed Sylvia, after all.
He chuckled, amused by his thoughts.
“What’s funny?” Elise asked, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Sorry. Your question reminded me of some of my early struggles.”
“It’s good that you can laugh at them.”
“Yeah, it is.” He hadn’t laughed at them before. Elise was good for him.
“I hope you don’t mind my car. It’s not exactly elegant,” he said, directing her to MaryBelle’s car. He’d rather be driving his Mercedes.
“Of course, I don’t mind. In fact, we can drive mine if you want.”
“No, we’ll take—mine. But what kind of car do you drive? I hope it’s safe.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve never had any trouble with it.”
“Good,” he agreed, and held open the door for her.
He got behind the wheel, glad he’d already adjusted the seat and the mirrors for his height. He backed out of the parking lot. “I like your condos. They look nice.”
“Yes, they are. The people who live here are wonderful. My two best friends are here, but everyone’s friendly.”
He couldn’t imagine anyone being unfriendly to Elise, especially men. “Any single men live here?”
“Well, there’s Jeff and Bill.”
He assured himself it was curiosity that had him asking, “Why didn’t you ask one of them to be your pretend fiancé?”
She smiled at him. “Because Jeff is the same age as my students and Bill is almost old enough to be my father. Neither of them would be able to convince my sisters we were serious.”
He nodded, accepting the implied compliment with a smile. “Well, I’ll do my best to be convincing.”
“I’m sure you will.”
James saw the sign for the place he’d found earlier, having decided it would be perfect for a casual meal and conversation. Someplace where he wouldn’t be recognized.
“Here we are,” he said as he parked the car.
He turned to Elise, only to find her staring at the restaurant, her face pale.
Chapter Three
Elise stared at the familiar sign: The Prickly Pear. Out of all the restaurants in Phoenix, he’d chosen her favorite hangout? Where her friends were dining?
“Is something wrong? Don’t you like this place?”
“Oh…yes, I love it. I come here often.”
“Is that it? You’re afraid you’ll be seen with me?”
She heard the annoyance in his voice. With a smile, she said, “Are you kidding? Being seen with you will do wonders for my reputation.”
Her words must’ve pleased him because he gave her that devastating smile and squeezed her hand.
“Good. I was afraid you had a boyfriend stashed away somewhere and didn’t want him to see us out together.”
He got out of the car and came around to open her door before she could pull herself together to get out. “A boyfriend?” she repeated. “If I had a boyfriend, why would I hire you?”
He was still smiling as he took her by the hand. “I guess you wouldn’t.”
“Um, Jeff, the guy who cleans the pool, might be bartending tonight. That’s his part-time job. And—and my friends Phoebe and Daisy were coming here for dinner. But there’s no one else. I mean, I’m not hiding anyone.”
James held the door open for her, and she walked in. The hostess who normally worked there wasn’t in sight. George, their usual waiter, saw her pausing by the door and came sailing by, a tray in his hands. He stooped and kissed her cheek.
“Hi, love. Just pick a table anywhere. You know the routine.” Then he headed off to deliver the food on his tray.
Elise swallowed and turned to look at James. He had a curiously suspicious look on his face. “That’s George. He usually waits on us.”
“Yeah, I can tell you know him. Why didn’t you ask him?”
Lowering her voice so no one could hear her, she said, “Because George is already married. He and his wife are attending school and working part time.”
James took a deep breath. “Okay. Where do you want to sit.”
Phoebe and Daisy had discovered them by that time and were waving from across the room. “Uh, my friends are here. Do you mind if we say hello?”
“Of course not. But I’d rather not join them tonight. We need to talk, to get to know each other.”
“Yes, of course.” She led the way to their table, glad they weren’t going to have dinner with Phoebe and Daisy. James would only have eyes for her friends. They were so alive, so beautiful.
“Hi, Phoebe and Daisy. This is James Dillon. James, these are my two best friends, Phoebe Lane and Daisy Redford.”
“Evening, ladies.”
Elise could tell how impressed her friends were with James. Which only reinforced her confidence in her excellent choice. Her sisters would be overwhelmed.
She smiled at her friends, pleased at their approval.
James’s arm came around her shoulders, surprising her. His warmth, the scent of his aftershave, the thrill she experienced when he touched her, distracted her. And filled her with concern. She didn’t want to become too interested in James Dillon.
“You