One Fiancee To Go, Please

“Oh,” was all she could manage, grateful he stood behind her and could not watch her face redden.

“The shoes were a little trickier. I hope they’re comfortable.” His tone was dubious.

Tess noticed the pair of strappy black leather heels lined up at the foot of the bed next to a pair of size-eleven men’s dress shoes. For some reason the sight of their footwear sharing space next to a bed seemed more intimate than the fact the man had helped pick out her unmentionables.

“Well, everything seems to be in order,” he said, rubbing his hands together. He walked to the closet and pulled out a new suit. It was double-breasted and the color of charcoal, with the barest hint of a pinstripe. She noticed the tags still dangling from the cuff. At her questioning gaze, he offered a careless shrug.

“The chili didn’t come out. I guess you could say my American Express card got quite the workout today, especially since I had to have them do a rush job on the alterations.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to forestall the apology that she was about to offer. “Don’t say you’re sorry, Tess. After tonight, we’re more than even.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I won’t apologize. But can I say thank you?”

He grinned, that sexy little dimple tugging in his cheek. “You’re welcome. Now we’d better get ready. I can change in the bathroom, unless you’d like to freshen up first?”

“Yes, please. I think I smell like chili dogs.” She crinkled her nose. “I’ll just take the dress and the other things in there with me,” she told him, quickly gathering them up. “I won’t be long.”

Jack glanced at his watch. “I hate to rush you, but it’s almost twenty after,” he said.

Jack Maris had never known a woman who could be ready in five minutes. Nancy and her endless fussing over her appearance had caused them to be chronically late.

He changed into his suit and paced the length of the room once. Then he went to the closed bathroom door and raised his hand to knock, planning to tell Tess he would meet her downstairs. He didn’t want to keep his new partner waiting. The door opened before he could knock, however, and Jack’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

“Ready,” she announced. She gave her head a little shake that sent copper-colored curls dancing.

He sucked in a sharp breath. None of the fantasies he’d had about her hair matched the reality. It corkscrewed nearly to her waist in rivulets of molten lava.

“I took down my hair,” she said needlessly when he kept staring at it. “I can put it back up. I just thought—”

“No, no,” he interrupted her, his voice a little gruff. “Leave it down. It’s…” Then Jack noticed the dress. The woman whose firm curves filled it out so nicely needed no flounces, ruffles or sequins to compensate for—or camouflage—any shortcomings. Perfection, he thought, as his heart picked up speed. She was sheer perfection.

“Tess. I…” His voice trailed away along with his train of thought, and whatever he had been about to say was swallowed up by the awkwardness of the moment.

He watched as color suffused her face. She seemed to look everywhere in the room but at him, and Jack wondered what had possessed him to stand there gawking at her as if he were some pimply-faced schoolboy on a first date. This wasn’t a date at all, he reminded himself, although it was difficult to ignore the sexual attraction that had his blood heating.

Finally, his tone crisp and businesslike to compensate for the erotic thoughts he’d been entertaining, he said, “Come on, let’s go get this over with.”

Tess followed Jack through the beveled-glass doors of the Saint Sebastian’s dining room and looked around. With the exception of an older couple seated near the rear of the restaurant, most of the faces were unfamiliar. Most likely out-of-town guests, she decided, wondering who she and Jack were there to meet. She smiled at the diners seated at each table they approached, eager to look the part of a happy bride-to-be, but Jack just kept walking. He walked past the young couple enjoying linguini in the booth near the wall. Past the dark-suited businessman scribbling notes on a yellow pad of paper. Past the trio of middle-aged women sipping coffee and eating cheese-cake. That’s when she knew, and her stomach felt as if it had dropped to her feet. She snagged Jack by the arm and tugged him to a halt.

“Wh-what is it?” he asked.

“The Fausts,” she replied in a hushed tone. “You didn’t tell me we were eating dinner with Ira and Cora Faust.”

His eyes widened as his face bleached of color. “Please tell me you don’t know them.”

“Everyone in Pleasant River knows them,” she whispered frantically. “They’re the city’s first family, so to speak. They sponsor just about everything that goes on around here, from the Christmas pageant to the annual blueberry festival. I was Miss Blueberry twice in high school. Ira Faust crowned me, for heaven’s sake!”

At any other time, Jack thought, he might have been amused by the quaint image her words brought to mind, but with the beginning of a nasty headache pounding behind his eyes, he could only groan. Briefly, he considered turning around and slinking out. Later he could make up some excuse. But Ira took away that option by calling out, “Look, dear, here they are.”

Jack sent Tess a pleading look, then plastered a smile on his face as they joined the Fausts at their table.

“Good evening, sir. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” He turned to the plump, silver-haired matron who was seated next to Ira and said, “This must be your lovely wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Any hope he harbored that the older couple would not recognize his date was dashed immediately.

“Why, this is a surprise,” Cora Faust said, her tone incredulous and a little excited. “Don’t tell me that Pleasant River’s very own Tess Donovan is your fiancée?”

“Young man, why didn’t you mention that your girl was a local?” Ira admonished good-naturedly. “This is extraordinary.”

“Hello, Mr. Faust,” Tess said. Jack noticed her discreetly wiping her palm on her dress before shaking the older man’s hand. Turning to Ira’s wife, she said, “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Faust.”

They were seated, and the waiter came for their drink order, forestalling what Jack knew was only the inevitable. Tess ordered a club soda, apparently determined to keep a clear head. Jack, however, ordered Scotch. False courage, he decided, was better than nothing. The black-vested server had barely moved out of hearing range when Cora lobbed the first verbal volley of what promised to be a long evening of probing questions.

“Tess, dear, I ran into your mother just last month at the beauty shop. We chatted while I was waiting for my manicure to dry. She never mentioned your engagement. When exactly did this occur?”

“Um, well, actually…” Tess turned to Jack, her gaze silently beseeching him to clear up this misunderstanding before it went any further.

For the millionth time, he wondered why he had listened to Davis’s foolish suggestion, even as he admitted that the plan had worked splendidly. He had the job. And, God help him, he wanted to keep it. Below the folds of the linen tablecloth he reached for Tess’s hand, offering a reassuring squeeze, and sent her a look that begged for understanding.

“It happened rather suddenly. In fact, we haven’t told our families yet. We wanted it to be secret, just for a little while longer. I’m sure you can understand that.” His gaze strayed to Cora and he winked at the older woman, as if including her in some Shakespearean plot. Cora’s eyes misted, evidence, Jack decided, of her romantic heart. He felt himself relax a bit.

“Oh, of course. Ira and I were young once. I remember how love was at the beginning. Not that it’s not still wonderful after all these years, but at first it’s all…” she seemed to hunt for the right word, then, she sighed, “…magic.”

“This calls for a toast,” Ira announced, giving Jack an affectionate thump on the back. The waiter had just arrived with their drinks, but as he transferred them from the tray to the table, Ira said, “Any proper toast must be done with champagne.”

The waiter returned and was filling their glasses with sparkling wine when Cora said, “Where on earth did you two kids meet? Ira tells me you’re from Boston, Jack. When did Tess take a trip to Boston?”

The tale they had concocted in the car clearly no longer applied.

“That’s actually a very interesting story, isn’t it Tess?” Jack began, buying time. Tess nodded vigorously, and he watched her gulp down champagne, nearly emptying the fluted glass before she returned it to the table. Apparently she also needed a little false courage now. Always one to oblige a woman in distress, he reached over to refill her glass.

“You were saying,” Cora prompted helpfully.

“Um, yes, how Tess and I met. It’s a very interesting story,” he repeated inanely. His mind, however, remained stubbornly blank. Ira and Cora Faust seemed to lean forward in their seats, as if willing the words out of his mouth, but no matter how fast his brain searched for a scenario they would believe, nothing came. It was no use, he decided. He sent Tess an apologetic little smile and opened his mouth, ready to expose his idiotic deception and beg the Fausts’ pardon.

“The truth is—”

That’s all he got out before Tess interrupted.

“It was last spring.”

Jack watched her swallow thickly as she realized she had the Fausts’ undivided attention. They regarded her with polite curiosity, while he had the feeling his own expression held a mixture of gratitude and panicky desperation.

Tess drained the rest of her champagne, stalling shamelessly as she searched her imagination for some plausible explanation. She couldn’t believe she was going to lie, and not just some lie of omission either, but a whopper elaborate enough to satisfy the town’s pre-eminent busybody. A painting hung on the wall behind Cora, a gilt-framed watercolor of a basket of fresh-cut lilies. It gave her an idea.

“Uh, Jack and I met at the French Impressionists exhibit at the Detroit Institute of Art. We’re both huge fans of Monet.”

Tess smiled in relief. She had gone to the exhibit alone, so no one would be able to prove or disprove her story. The Fausts and Jack seemed to be waiting for her to continue, so she did, surprised by how easily it all came to her as one falsehood after another slipped from her lips, transforming her staid, predictable life into something to sigh over.