Yet he could kick himself because he hadn’t bought her the blue topaz ring she had admired at the store!
Quick thinking had told him to buy the type of ring that was expected of him. Anything other than a traditional diamond engagement ring would invite inquiry. Such as where and why and what sentiments had inspired him to buy such an unusual ring. Those were extra questions they didn’t need. It would just add to the risk of them flubbing up as a believable couple.
But now he thought blue ring, purple ring, green ring—what would it matter if that was what she wanted?
Pulsing and vibrant, Holly Motta had careened into his apartment with blue paint on her face and, he feared, had changed his life forever. Forcing him to think about women differently than he ever had. Making him for the first time vaguely envision a role in which he cared if someone was happy. Edging him into speculation about what it would be like if someone cared about his happiness, too.
And now she was making it hard to concentrate on anything other than leaping across the table and planting a kiss on that sweet mouth that was busy with noodles.
After a bite of food to steady himself, Ethan resumed their interview. “Tell me something about yourself that I would not have guessed.”
“I used to be—” she blurted, and then abruptly stopped herself. She put her chopsticks down and took a slow sip of her tea. Trying to recover, she finished with, “A pretty good softball player.”
Aha, so it wasn’t as easy for her to be as open and candid as she wanted him to believe it was. What had she been about to say that had proved too difficult to reveal? And what had she avoided telling him at breakfast that morning about the mother she’d characterized as unpredictable?
He’d gone along with her easy sincerity, but Ethan really didn’t know the first thing about her. He’d garnered that she’d had a difficult childhood, but it wasn’t like him to take anyone at face value. Not after what he’d seen of life.
Guard and defend.
He had his family’s empire to protect.
“Excuse me,” he said as he put his chopsticks down and pulled out his phone. “I have just remembered one more bit of business for the day.”
He texted Chip Foley, Benton Worldwide’s Head of Security. Just as he’d intended to do if he’d hired an actress for the fiancée job.
Chip, please run everything you can on a Holly Motta from Fort Pierce, Florida. Claims her occupation is artist. I would place her age at about thirty. Tall, slim, blue eyes, black hair. She says her brother Vince works for us in Miami. I do not know if it is the same last name. Do an across-the-board check on her for me.
After hitting the “send” button, his eyes returned to Holly.
She pointed her chopsticks at him and taunted, “Hey, you never told me what it was in your life that hurt you the most.”
IT WAS THE dead of night, but Holly could still hear New York outside the bedroom window. Cars drove by. A dog barked. People laughed boisterously on the street.
The city that never slept.
Lying in Ethan’s bed, with her head sinking into his soft pillows, she could hardly make sense of the day. Visiting Soho galleries, buying all those art supplies, a new wardrobe, a diamond ring... Then that dinner in Chinatown.
She’d lived a lifetime in the last twenty-four hours.
Ethan was just beyond the door in the living room. Was he sleeping? Was he working? Or was he lying awake thinking about her as she was of him?
Of course not, Holly reminded herself. Ethan Benton had more important things on his mind then his wife for hire. She’d better remember that.
But when they’d watched each other’s faces at the restaurant it had seemed as if maybe she would, in fact, linger in his thoughts and keep him up at night. He’d looked at her as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. The restaurant might have been crowded and clamoring, but he’d never taken his eyes off her.
Through most of the evening they would have convinced anyone they were an engaged couple. Finishing each other’s sentences... Digging their chopsticks into each other’s plates...
And then there had been those awkward moments when they’d asked each other questions neither was ready to answer.
Holly hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Ethan that she had been married. She feared he would think of her as a used product and not want to go through with their agreement. He didn’t need to know about her mistake in marrying someone who hadn’t loved her for who she was. Who hadn’t supported the person she wanted to become. Ricky Dowd wasn’t a name that ever needed to come up in conversation.
They would go through with their pretend engagement so that Ethan could protect his aunt as her health declined. And, as he’d said, either they would continue to meet for official occasions or eventually call off their deal. Whatever happened, Ethan would never have to know about Holly’s wasted time on wrong decisions that tonight seemed like a million years ago.
Just as she might not find out what he was hiding because he didn’t want to tell her what had caused him the most hurt in his life. It had to be something terrible, because both times when he’d avoided the topic his eyes had turned to coal.
But the rest of the evening was a dream she never wanted to wake from. When they had got to unimportant questions, like favorite movies and television shows, they’d laughed themselves dizzy remembering jokes from silly comedies. Laughed some more about bad childhood haircuts and mean teachers they’d hated in school.
They had stayed long after the restaurant had emptied, until the staff had been ready to leave. Feng had walked them out to the street and waved them goodbye as they’d tucked themselves into the car so Leonard could deposit them home.
Holly drifted off to sleep, replaying over and over again how Ethan had gently kissed the back of her hand and thanked her for an unforgettable day before he closed the bedroom door.
* * *
In the morning, Ethan scrutinized his unshaven face in the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t laughed as much as he had last night in a long time. Truth be told, he couldn’t remember ever laughing that much. Everything was full power with Holly. Near her, he felt alive with a liquid fire.
That might burn down his life as he knew it.
After showering and dressing, he charted a direct route into the kitchen toward the coffeepot.
“Morning,” she greeted him.
“Yes.”
He was careful not to touch her as he crossed behind her in the tiny kitchen to pour a cup. It took stupendous will not to reach for her, to put his arms around her waist and find out what her hair might smell like if his face was buried in it.
Instead, more guarding and defending.
He gained distance by busying himself with checking the morning’s urgencies on his tablet. His approval was needed on important architectural specifications for the Jersey City project. An email chain between several of the interested parties provided updates. Thank heavens for work. He needed the interruption from his growing and wholly off-track desires for more than what he’d signed up for with Holly.
Despite his efforts, his eyes of their own volition kept darting upward from the screen as he watched her lay out a light breakfast of toast and juice.
“Right, then, we have an important day,” he directed as soon as they’d sat down with their food. “Aunt Louise and Fernando will arrive at six o’clock. She does not like to stay out late in the evening. We should have dinner on the table by seven.”
“I