Fiancé In Name Only

He blew out a breath, looked up and down the street, then shifted his gaze back to hers. “Or, you could ride with me and pick out your own pumpkins.”

“Okay.”

He nodded.

“No,” she said. “Wait. Maybe not.”

He frowned at her.

Having an audience while she argued with herself was a little embarrassing. She could tell from his expression that Micah didn’t really want her along so, naturally, she really wanted to go. Even though she shouldn’t. She already had plenty to do and maybe spending time with Micah Hunter wasn’t the wisest choice, since he had the unerring ability to stir her up inside. But could she really resist the chance to make him as uncomfortable as he made her?

“I mean, sure,” she said abruptly. “I’ll go, but I’d have to be back in a couple of hours. I have a house to show this afternoon.”

His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “I can guarantee you I won’t be spending two hours at a pumpkin stand.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So? Are you coming or not?”

Her eyes met his and in those dark brown depths, Kelly read the hope she would say no. So, of course, she said the only thing she could.

“I guess I am.”

Two (#u8f4e1428-6768-512e-98fe-456fb719e4eb)

“Why are you buying pumpkins when you’re growing your own?”

They were already halfway down the twisting canyon road. The mountains rose up on either side of the narrow pass. Wide stands of pine trees stood as tall and straight as soldiers, while oaks, maples and birch trees that grew within those stands splashed the dark green with wild bursts of fall color.

“And,” Micah continued, “isn’t there somewhere closer you could buy the damn things?”

She turned her head to look at his profile. “Sure there is, but the produce stands have the big ones.”

Kelly could have sworn she actually heard his eyes roll. But she didn’t care. It was a gorgeous fall day, she was taking a ride in a really gorgeous car—even though it was going too fast for the pass—and she was sitting beside a gorgeous man who made her nervous.

And wasn’t that a surprise? Four years since her husband Sean had died and Micah was the first man to make her stomach flutter with the kind of nerves that she had suspected were dead or atrophied. The problem was, she didn’t know if she was glad of the appearance of those nerves or not.

Kelly rolled down the window and let the cold fall air slap at her in lieu of a cold shower. When she got a grip, she shifted in her seat to look at Micah. “Because I grow those to give away to the kids in the neighborhood.”

“And you can’t keep some for yourself?”

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun?” he repeated. “I’ve seen you out there weeding, clipping and whatever else it is you do to those plants. That’s fun?”

“For me it is.” The wind whipped her ponytail across her face and she pushed it aside to look at him. “Besides, if I was going to take lessons on fun from somebody, it wouldn’t be you.”

He snorted. “If you did, I’d show you more than pumpkins.”

Her stomach swirled a little at the implied promise in those words, but she swallowed hard and stilled it. He was probably used to making coded statements designed to turn women into slavering puddles. So she wouldn’t accommodate him. Yet.

“I’m not convinced,” she said with a shrug. “You’ve been in town two months and you’ve hardly left the house.”

“That’s work. No time for fun.”

“Just a chatterbox,” she mumbled. Every word pried out of him felt like a victory.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “So, what’s your idea of fun then?”

He took a moment to think it through, and said, “I’d start with chartering a private jet—”

“Your own personal jet,” she said, stunned.

He glanced at her and shrugged. “I don’t like sharing.”

She laughed shortly as she thought about the last time she’d taken a flight out of Salt Lake City airport. Crowded onto a full flight, she’d sat between a talkative woman complaining about her grandchildren and a businessman whose briefcase poked her in the thigh every time he shifted in his seat. Okay, she could see where a private jet would be nice. “Well sure. Okay, your jet. Then what?”

He steered the Range Rover down the mountain road, taking the tight curves like a race-car driver. If Kelly let herself worry about it, she’d be clinging to the edges of her seat. So she didn’t think about it.

“Well, it’s October, so I’d go to Germany for Oktoberfest.”

“Oh.” That was so far out of her normal orbit she hardly knew what to say. Apparently, though, once you got Micah talking about something that interested him, he would keep going.

“It’s a good place to study people.”

“I bet,” she murmured.

He ignored that, and said, “Writers tend to observe. Tourists. Locals. How people are interacting. Gives me ideas for the work.”

“Like who to murder?”

“Among other things. I once killed a hotel manager in one of my books.” He shrugged. “The guy was a jackass so, on paper at least, I got rid of him.”

She stared at him. “Any plans to kill off your current landlady?”

“Not yet.”

“Comforting.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “after a long weekend there, I’d go to England,” he mused, seriously considering her question. “There’s a hotel in Oxford I like.”

“Not London?”

“Fewer people to recognize me in Oxford.”

“That’s a problem for you?” she asked.

“It can be.” He took another curve that had Kelly swerving into him. He didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks to social media, my fans tend to track me down. It gets annoying.”

She could understand that. The photo of Micah on the back of his books was mesmerizing. She’d spent a bit of time herself studying his eyes, the way his hair tumbled over his forehead, the strong set of his jaw.