Her mother reached for the diamond pendant at the base of her neck. “Bart and I understand young love. We’re not that old-fashioned. You’re both grown adults, days away from your wedding. We know you . . . do things . . . in Seattle. So Josh, we put your bag in here with Megan’s.” She gestured to the suitcase Megan hadn’t noticed until precisely that moment.
Josh’s arms stiffened around Megan. “I wouldn’t want to offend—”
“Don’t be silly.” She waved him off with one hand. “But save the hanky-panky for later and come down to the kitchen. The guests are arriving in twenty minutes.”
“Guests?” Megan gasped.
Megan’s mother shook her head. “Really, Megan. Don’t you listen to a word I say?” She released an exaggerated sigh. “I told you about this months ago.”
Megan hadn’t paid attention. Her mother had gone mother-of-the-bridezilla with planning the details for the wedding, down to the exact size of the lovebirds her mother had monogrammed onto an old handkerchief—seven-eighths of an inch by five-eighths—and Megan had done her best to tune it all out. She was now regretting that decision.
“I had a feeling something like this would happen,” her mother said. She pointed to the dresser along the far wall. “I made you both an itinerary for the rest of the week so you know where you need to be and when.”
Josh glanced at the dresser, but Megan kept her attention on her mother. “So we need to be downstairs in twenty minutes?” Obviously her mother wasn’t interested in volunteering what was planned for the evening. She’d need to read it in whatever booklet—or, knowing her mother, tome—was placed on the dresser.
Her mother rolled her eyes. Even that looked pretty on her. “Not quite. The guests arrive in twenty minutes. I need you downstairs pronto to help finish setting up.” She took a step toward the door before turning back. “And Megan . . . you should consider putting on some fresh clothes and touching up your makeup a bit. You look like you’ve been on a two-day drinking binge.”
She made an exaggerated grimace, then walked out the door toward the stairs.
“I’m not sure whether to be horrified or amused that your mother called what we were doing hanky-panky,” Josh said, shivering as though he’d narrowly escaped a brush with death.
But Megan ignored him, shutting the bedroom door—a little louder than normal but not as loud as she wanted—then running into the Jack and Jill bathroom off her room and flipping on the light.
“Ohmygawd!” she gushed in horror. Her mascara was smeared under her eyes, and her hair looked like it belonged to a creative child’s Barbie. Her natural waves had ratted into a huge mess on the right side of her head, where she’d been leaning against the plane window. She’d just had a conversation with Josh—and he’d kissed her—looking like . . . this.
“Your mother thinks we’re going to sleep together tonight,” he said from the bedroom.
“I know. I was privy to the conversation.” She opened the linen closet and grabbed a washrag and stuck it under the running water.
“So what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. I have bigger issues to worry about.”
“Your makeup? Honestly, you don’t look that bad.”
“Maybe not for a zombie!” she moaned.
“Why are you so worked up?”
“I looked like this—” she pointed to her reflection in the mirror, “—down there.” She pointed to the door.
“So?”
“So?” She shook her head, trying to swallow the burning lump in her throat. “You obviously wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
I will not cry. I will not cry. Why on earth did she care so much about what the man in the next room thought? Soon he’d be gone and she’d never see him again. But she couldn’t ignore the way that kiss had felt . . .
But even though she was mortified he’d seen her this way, it wasn’t what was really bothering her. How could she even explain it? She’d spent most of the first eighteen years of her life trying to live up to her mother’s expectations, and she’d come up short each and every time. The last time she’d been home was last fall, to shop for her wedding. Trying on wedding dresses was supposed to be a magical experience, but with her mother in the room, each gown had felt like a gunnysack. Not to mention they hadn’t seen eye to eye on any of the details for the reception and ceremony. Ultimately, she’d just given in and allowed Nicole Vandemeer to have what she wanted. So to come home and face the humiliation that would inevitably result when her mother found out the truth . . .
Tears welled in her eyes.
She should shove Josh out the door and confess to her family, but she couldn’t bear it. How much more embarrassing would it be if her mother assumed she’d hired this guy, some attractive stranger, to act as her fiancé? Because that’s inevitably where her mother’s mind would go. No, the answer was simple.
She and Josh needed to stage an epic breakup.
Chapter Five
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Despite the fact that he was posing as her fiancé, he hadn’t given any thought to the probability that they’d have to have some type of physical contact if she agreed to play along. His sole strategy was to find proof that Bart Vandemeer’s company had stolen his design. Once he did, he’d never have to see these people again.
But something had changed when he kissed her.
He’d figured out a plan on the way home from the airport. Nicole Vandemeer kept herself so busy reciting every last detail about the wedding that all he had to do was nod and say “uh-huh” every so often, and she was none the wiser that he was plotting his revenge on her husband.
Josh had to admit that Bart Vandemeer wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d envisioned someone more ruthless, although he wasn’t sure why. After all, there was no proof Megan’s father was responsible for stealing Josh’s design. In fact, his only piece of flimsy evidence pointed to Drew Peterman, Bart’s partner’s son. But even if Bart wasn’t knowingly involved, he was still responsible—he should have asked the right questions when the design was so abruptly submitted.
And then there was Megan’s wedding. Megan had told him it was a twenty-five-thousand-dollar affair, but based on the details her mother had given him, he suspected the total was much higher . . . which begged the question of where all that money was coming from.
He’d tried to quiz Bart about his business, just a future son-in-law making polite conversation, but Nicole had tried her best to steer the conversation away from business, frustrating Josh to no end.
One of the things Nicole had blathered on about had made an impression—she was hosting a massive party for him and Megan that evening. Josh hoped to take advantage of the distraction so he could search Bart’s home office. He’d heard Nicole mention that it was upstairs. Josh could pretend he needed to use the bathroom and then find the home office and search it before anyone would be the wiser. He also considered trying to steal the older man’s keys for a visit to his actual office, but Josh didn’t want to resort to such drastic measures. It was bad enough he was impersonating Megan’s fiancé; he wasn’t ready to jump the shark and resort to breaking and entering just yet. He’d save that for tomorrow night if need be.