Fake Marriage Box Set

"Like taking a feisty singer home and keeping her safe from all harm?"

I cracked a knuckle punching his rock solid arm. "Don't you have a line to lord over?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Me? I'm going back inside and finding a comfy spot at the bar."

Allen frowned. "That's not like you, either. Thought your father scared you off getting drunk for good."

"Well, seeing as I'm in town to meet the old man, I'm going with 'when in Rome.'"

Allen's worried shake of the head stayed with me until I got to the bar. I knew my father had been sober for some years now, but the memories still stuck hard. So, when the bartender came over, I cleared my throat and ordered a tonic water with lime.

An old friend of mine, she nodded and poured the drink. "I can't believe you're in town to see your father," she said.

"Thanks, Rita." I took the drink and spun it slowly on the bar. "I can't believe it either. In fact, I should cut my losses now and head back to Monterey."

Rita shook her head. "You should stay. We've got some real talent in the karaoke lounge tonight. Did you hear that little blondie sing? I think I'm in love."

I winced. "Yeah, she was amazing."

"Amazing is not quite the word for it," Rita said. She licked her lips and sighed at the memory of Corsica's lush, little body. "We get a lot of raw talent in here, but she was something special. I mean, it was like hearing one of those old-school songstresses."

I fought to remember Corsica's snobby attitude, her determined ambition, and her obvious disgust for me. "You know who would like her? My father. He was always a sucker for those torch singers. A pretty little picture with a big voice standing in front of a small jazz combo." I had to stop because I realized that was my fantasy forming.

"Speaking of your father, why'd he call you into town? I thought you hadn't spoken to him in years?"

I sighed and leaned both elbows on the bar. When I had cut ties with my father and my family fortune, I’d found work as a bar-back. Rita was a cocktail waitress back then, and we had worked many, many long nights together. We were both there when Allen was hired, and even though my fortunes had taken off in that last few years, we were all still very tight. They were more than my friends; they were my trusted counsel and my therapists.

"I have no idea, but it didn't sound good," I said.

"You call your mother?"

"A half dozen times, but she was out leading hikes or instructing tourists on vision quests or whatever she's doing now. The one time I caught her on the phone, she was really vague." I worried again about how strange she had been on the phone.

"She's always wanted you to reconcile with your father," Rita pointed out.

"Like that's ever going to happen."

"Well, I'm glad you're around." Rita drifted down the bar towards other customers. "Stick around and cross your fingers. Maybe that pretty singer will get back on stage. I'm telling you, Penn, you're going to love her."

I gripped the tonic water with both hands and tried to ignore the prophetic ring of Rita's words. I knew it was only a matter of time before Allen told her about the scene outside and she'd be right back down the bar to pry all the details out of me. What had possessed me?

It was easy to justify my reaction to the way Joshua grabbed her. It had triggered bad memories from a dark time in my childhood. But that didn't explain the initial reaction I had to Corsica. What was it about her that turned me upside down?

Sure, she was beautiful. She was gorgeous. A curvy but athletic body tucked tight into a little black dress. Her hair was a cascade of honey-blonde curls that I itched to wind around my fingers. And those eyes that changed hue with her every passing emotion. It was no wonder I was attracted to Corsica. The real puzzle was why my mind couldn't win out and dismiss her.

When I had denounced my family fortune, I had turned my back on an enormous social circle that looked exactly like Corsica and her prep-school ex. Each tattoo I got r

eleased me further from the expectations and restrictions of the ultra-rich. I shunned luxury surroundings and camped out for weeks on end. I grew out my beard. I roughened my hands with rock-climbing. And then, I found my fortune in outdoor equipment.

The irony of it still made my mind reel.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I looked up and had to grab the bar for support. Corsica stood next to me, one hand tugging at a long curl. "You forget something?" I asked.

The corners of her mouth quirked up. "My manners. I forgot to thank you for stepping in earlier." Her eyes widened. "Not that I'm saying Joshua's a bad guy. He's not. It's just I appreciate that you were willing to speak up for a complete stranger."