Misadventures of a Backup Bride

“We’ll have all the time necessary after you finish eating. It’s not as if we can talk much while we actually chow down.” She raises a brow at me. “Unless you’re telling me you chew with your mouth open?”

“Let me rephrase this. I’ve bought all your time for the next two and a half weeks. You’re coming with me.”

“I want a salad.”

That’s not dinner. It’s a snack for a rabbit. “No.”

Ella gives me a delicate grit of her teeth. “Nothing in your contract stated that I had to eat anything other than what I choose.”

She’s not budging, and this argument is wasting time. “A hundred bucks if you sit down with me and eat the dinner I order for you.”

“If you keep it under five hundred calories and low on carbs, that’s acceptable.”

My voice drops, and I lean across the desk. I’m sure she believes her job is dependent on her weight. I get it. But the idea of her starving for someone else’s shallow notion of beauty pisses me off. “If I’m paying you to have dinner with me, you’ll eat a decent meal.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re being argumentative.”

“I’m being strategic. Some of Shaw’s friends should be at the restaurant I’ve chosen. They’ll tell their pal everything they see. You can’t look like an actress.”

She sits back in her chair and stares at me, plush mouth pursed. “Not every woman who watches her weight works in Hollywood. One fifty. Or you can let me choose my own meal, and I’ll accompany you for free.”

This may be a waste of money, but I’m not even remotely tempted to agree. “One twenty-five and you have a deal.”

“Fine.”

I can’t deny I enjoy getting my way. “Excellent.”

I shove a few things into my briefcase. I’ll have to work tonight to make up for leaving the office a bit early, but this time with Ella is critical. Nothing else I do for Sweet Darlin’ matters without it.

She looks away and fidgets. I don’t know what’s making her jumpy, the job…or me. In either event, I can’t let her visible nervousness continue.

Falling in love—even pretending to—virtually overnight won’t be easy.

After I shut down my laptop and zip up my briefcase, I cross the room and hold out a hand to Ella. She swallows and slides her slender fingers onto mine. As she rises, she releases my grip and stands beside me. I’m struck by how small she is—even in heels.

“How tall are you?”

“I’m on the petite side, but I always wear shoes that maximize my vertical appearance.”

Clearly, she’s heard pushback about her height before. Tinseltown values women who are tall, beyond thin, and look as if they could fall prey to a stiff wind. “That’s not what I asked.”

She raises her chin defensively. “Five-three and proud.”

I repress a smile. She is a tiny thing. Of course, since I’m six-four, most women I date seem small by comparison. And this one I’m pretty sure I could pick up in one arm and still finish a 10K.

“I’m not finding fault with you, Ella. Just asking a question. Since I’m supposed to know enough about you to be in love with you, I’ll ask a lot of them until I’m confident we can pass muster in public. I expect you to do the same. People will test us, Shaw especially. We have to make sure he can’t trip us up.”

Ella relaxes. “You’re right. Sorry. Defending my height is a reflex.”

“You hear about it when you audition?”

She nods glumly. “A lot. Nicole Kidman is five-eleven.”

I grab my phone from my pocket and do a little Googling. “Eva Longoria is five-two. Victoria Beckham is five-four.”

A smile creeps across Ella’s mouth. “Thanks. I’ll bet you can be charming when you need to be.”

Once, I probably was…when I lived in LA and my most pressing problem was finding a pretty girl to seduce on a Saturday night so I could let off a little steam after a long workweek. Since Edward Frost’s death and learning he named me heir of his enormous candy conglomeration, I’ve been sucked into a totally different life. For months, sex has been on the back burner. Hell, after grueling days and weekends of trying to wrap my arms around this business, I’ve barely had the energy for masturbation, much less getting laid.

Until Ella Hope walked through my door.

“I try.” I escort her out the door and lock my office behind me.

Cora is already gone. In fact, the halls seem largely empty as we head for the parking lot.

“I did some research before I came. I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d get a head start on learning you.” She looks up at me to gauge my expression, so I nod. “I’m sorry about your father’s recent passing.”

“Biological father,” I correct. “He and my mother had a college romance and married briefly when she discovered she was pregnant. It didn’t last until my first birthday. Edward resented having to drop out of school to support us. My mother knew he had big dreams and didn’t want to stand in his way. But it all ended for the best. Edward began experimenting with candy making and perfected his recipes while his grandmother was still alive to help. In fact, Sweet Darlin’ is named for her.”

“And your mother remarried a couple of years later.”

I nod. “Craig was ten years her senior and came from a wealthy family, so that made her decision easier. But they were very much in love until they died in a car accident five years ago.”

She frowns softly. “I read that. I’m sorry. Were you close to your mom and stepfather?”

“Very. Craig was my father figure growing up. Edward was always busy and lived on the opposite coast. He had priorities other than parenting.” I pause. “I was a little shocked when he left the company to me.”

“Did he have other children?”

“No.” I hit a button on my key fob and open the door to my black BMW for her. “And he never remarried. After Sweet Darlin’ took off unexpectedly just before his thirtieth birthday, he was committed to work for life.”

Once she slides into the car, I shut her inside and walk around. Ella already has more questions by the time I ease into the driver’s seat. “Why didn’t he leave it to his younger sister, Sherry? Everything I read on the internet said she declined to get involved—”

“Totally.” I start the car with a shrug. “She lives in Northern California in what can only be described as a hippie commune. Her son, Jagger, tried to take over between Edward’s accident and the time he actually passed away. He made a mess of it, which is why I find myself compelled to hire someone to pretend to break my heart.”

“That must be frustrating,” she muses as I back out of my space and leave the lot. “Have you thought of selling the company? Then it wouldn’t be your headache anymore. It sounds as if Gregory Shaw would buy it.”

I tense beside her. “I won’t let the company Edward devoted his life to building slip through my fingers. It seems like a poor way to honor his memory. Besides, it’s the kind of challenge I’ve been wanting. There’s no other organization that would hire me as CEO with my current experience. It’s been a rough learning curve, but I’m starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. It’s an exhilarating adventure.”

“That makes sense.” She stares out the windshield as the scenery zips past. “So…we need to know about each other, I guess.”

“Yeah. How long did you date Shane?” I grimace. “At least I assume you’re not dating him anymore. Or anyone else?”

Strictly speaking, it’s not the first question I need to be asking. I should know shit like her middle name and where she went to high school, what she wanted to be when she grew up, her favorite color and food. But I find myself compelled to know if she’s truly single.

She laughs, her dark curls sliding over her delicate shoulder. “Actually, I was with Shane that night on a blind date. When he saw the way you looked at me, he gripped my hand really tight…but nothing else happened between us. And I never saw him again. No chemistry.”

/>   The irresponsible parts of my brain are doing the samba. It’s a relief that I can stop wondering if Shane ever convinced her to get horizontal with him.