Marley stared down at her feet and wiggled her toes. She remembered. Only someone who lived in Phoenix would consider a walk in the rain a fun thing to do. “You’ve obviously recovered.”
“What is it? You’ve got a thing against actors?”
“No.” She looked up into very dark eyes only inches from her own. “I don’t like dime-store cowboys.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m not for real?”
Oh, he was for real, all right. And promised nothing but trouble on a grand scale.
He backed off but still kept eye contact. “I’ll have you know that unlike most of the residents in this fair state, I’m a native Arizonan. I own my own ranch and raise horses.”
They got off the elevator on the seventh floor, and Marley put her key in her door. “Sure you do.” Before opening the door and walking into her living room, she faced him. “I can smell the horse manure emanating from your condo every time the wind shifts.”
Laughing, he stood in her doorway, his hand braced against the doorjamb.
“This engagement will be over by the time I get back.”
He pulled his hand away before she could close the door on his fingers.
Brant stayed in her thoughts for some time while she packed for her trip. As long as the engagement was in her imagination, why not stick with him as her fiancé? He did have some qualities she found attractive. That smile, for instance. Yes, she could definitely wrap a fake engagement around that.
Marley glanced at her watch and decided Dede should be home by now. When she answered, Marley said, “You’ll never guess what. I met Brant coming into our building.” She choked back laughter. “I can’t believe he caught me taking his picture and...” She paused to gain control of her voice. “I told him I needed a fiancé, and he’s it.”
Marley would need a ring, she suddenly realized, something concrete to show her family so they’d believe she’d finally found her man.
“Meet me tomorrow, Dede, before I catch my plane, and help me pick out an engagement ring.”
BRANT HARDLY SLEPT. When he did Marley Roman appeared in his dreams with the guitar he’d heard her play on occasion. In fact, he was quite sure he’d heard her playing the previous evening. Maybe it was his imagination. The condo was pretty soundproof, and he’d only heard her the few times she’d gone out onto the balcony they shared. And she had been good, progressing through chords he’d struggled with for years. Not to mention her riffs. She could certainly teach him how to improve his technique.
His sister Elaina, oddly still dressed in the fancy outfit she’d worn the previous night, had coffee ready when he came into the kitchen. She used one of his guest rooms whenever she came into Phoenix. “Morning,” he said as he took a seat on the stool in front of the bar, deciding not to ask her why she hadn’t changed clothes. “How was the concert?”
“Perfect. It was a duo with a cello and guitar. Got to meet both the man and woman after and thought I might take up the cello again.” She pushed a full cup of black coffee over to him.
“I remember you playing back when I was in grammar school. You sure you want to put my poor nieces and nephews through that torture?” He moved away from her attempt to swat him. “Usually you’re out of here before the rush hour. Who’s minding the ranch while you’re away?” Elaina managed their father’s ranch a good 50 miles northwest of Phoenix. His two other sisters were also involved in the family’s large holdings. Something he’d managed to avoid.
“I delegate.” Elaina took the stool next to him and watched over the brim of her mug. “Dad wants to talk to you.”
Brant swiveled around so that he faced a window. “You know what about?”
“No, but I think you do. He expected to see you when you finished that last picture. You’re on hiatus now, aren’t you?”
Brant got up and walked over to the sink. “Yeah. I have a few things to take care of and then I’ll come up.” Brant had dreaded the day when he’d have to give in to his father’s wishes and take over the responsibilities at the ranch. If only he could delay the inevitable. He excused himself and headed to the vestibule.
Brant had every intention of meeting Marley again this morning, and this time it wouldn’t be by accident. After opening his door, he picked up his tablet and a book, the former to read and the latter to keep the door ajar so he wouldn’t miss her. Then he sat in his foyer, facing the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting to see my neighbor.”
Elaina laughed. “Why not ring her doorbell?”
“It’s awkward. We got engaged last night and—”
“You what?”
Brant held up his hand when he heard Marley’s door open and placed his finger against his lips. He stood, tossed the tablet onto the chair, pulled open his door, and kicked the chair with the tablet aside before entering the hall.
“Well, what have we got here?” In a Texas twang, another accent he’d perfected for the detective book he had to read for his next gig, Brant added, “My lovely fiancée. Aren’t you just the morning sunshine.”
That elicited a dirty look from Marley. Maybe he was being too obnoxious. “Sleep well?” She didn’t answer as he walked her to the elevator.
Reverting to his normal voice, he asked, “Care to join me for that cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you.” Finally a response. “I’m meeting someone.”
“It better not be a male acquaintance. I can be ferocious if another man shows my fiancée any attention.”
“I’m meeting my friend Dede to pick out a ring for my false engagement.”
“Well, then I have to come, too. How else would you know what I’d choose for you?”
As they got off the elevator, he put on his straw cowboy hat, hoping it would offer some concealment. He still hadn’t shaved, and his beard was starting to itch, but it did help hide his face.
For what felt like the hundredth time, he wished his face wasn’t plastered all over Phoenix.
* * *
SHE’D SPOTTED HER before the door closed. A woman in Brant’s condo. Brant the player, with beautiful women at his beck and call. No matter how much Marley tried to focus on something else, she couldn’t. An attractive woman had closed Brant’s door, and it wasn’t the maid. Marley had glimpsed chiffon and glitter, dressy for a Saturday morning.
What did she care? As a bachelor, Brant could have a dozen girlfriends. Since his return from Australia, Marley had noticed him with at least two.
Brant stayed right next to her every step of the way to meet Dede. Still unshaven, he wore another chambray shirt, this one with long sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The shirt had its breast pocket ripped off, the stitching visible around the square of unfaded blue. The jeans must have been new, though, since they didn’t have any observable holes. Marley herself was dressed in black pants and a white shirt for comfort on the plane.
Any thought of losing Brant disappeared when they reached the restaurant where she and Dede planned to meet.
“Hi, there,” Dede said to Brant. “I’m Dede Sanchez and you must be Marley’s fiancé.”
Brant stuck out his hand. “That I am. Glad to meet you, Dede. Shall we