One Week With The Best Man

“What good fortune that we’d run into you tonight. It must be fate. Do you mind if Murray and I join you for dinner?”

* * *

“Not at all, please,” the redhead said with a smile that matched his own. “Gretchen said the boys would be out and about today, but we didn’t expect to run into you down here in Franklin.” She had a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that made her seem like the savvy type who knew how to play the game. But judging by the curve of her belly and the rock on her hand, he knew why the redhead had been taken out of the running for his fake girlfriend.

“Excellent.” Julian turned to ask the hostess to change the table from two to four, ignoring the woman’s stunned expression. He was used to that reaction when he attempted to live a real life outside Hollywood. What bothered him more was the wrinkling of the woman’s nose as her gaze shifted to Gretchen in confusion. It made him pull her tighter to his side and plant a kiss in the silky dark strands of hair at the crown of her head.

“What are you two doing out in Franklin?” Gretchen spoke at last, squirming slightly from his arms.

“Well,” Murray began, “we wanted to play some golf. Since I live in Brentwood, coming down here to Forrest Hills is easier and we’re less likely to run into any photogs.”

The hostess gestured for them to follow her to a corner booth in the back of the restaurant. Gretchen slid into one side, and he sat beside her before she could protest. She might not be ready for their ruse to begin, but they were together in public. He hadn’t seen any photographers, but one could be around the next corner. The nosy hostess could tip someone off at the local paper. If anyone saw them together, they needed to be playing their parts.

“What are you ladies up to today?” Julian asked after the server took their drink orders.

“It’s makeover day,” Gretchen said. “Julian, this is Amelia Dixon. She’s the caterer at From This Moment. She’s also very fashionable and helped me with my full day of beauty and shopping.”

Julian shook Amelia’s hand, but he found it hard to turn away from Gretchen once he started really looking at her. She looked almost like a different woman from the one who had shown up at his hotel room the day before. He hadn’t even recognized her when they first walked in the restaurant. It wasn’t until Murray pointed out that they were the women from the chapel that he realized it was Gretchen. The changes were subtle, a refinement of what was already there, but the overall effect was stunning. She was glowing. Radiant. The straightening of her hair made an amazing difference, highlighting the soft curve of her face.

“Well, she did an excellent job. You look amazing. I can’t wait to see what you guys bought for the wedding.”

Gretchen watched him with wary eyes, as though she didn’t quite believe what he’d said. She’d looked at him that way the first night, too. She was an incredibly suspicious woman. He smiled in an attempt to counteract her suspicion, and that just made her flush. Red mottled her chest and traveled up her throat to her cheeks. It seemed as though she blushed right down to her toes. It was charming after spending time with women too bold to blush and too aware of their own beauty to be swayed by his compliments.

He’d argued with Ross that he didn’t think this was going to work after their short, strained meeting, but maybe he was wrong. They just needed to deal with her nerves so her physical reactions to him were more appropriate. She went stiff as a board in his arms, but he had some acting exercises that would help. It was probably fortuitous that they ran into each other tonight. Better they work these issues out now than at an official wedding event.

As the evening went on, it became clear that Julian knew the least about everyone there. Murray had met both women at the various planning sessions leading up to the wedding extravaganza. Julian was starting with a completely clean slate where Gretchen was concerned. Ross hadn’t even told him his date’s name before they met, and their first conversation hadn’t been particularly revealing. They wouldn’t just be posing for some pictures this week. They’d have to interact as a couple, and that meant they needed to learn more about each other if they were going to be believable.

“So you said Amelia is the caterer. What do you do, Gretchen?”

Gretchen got an odd look on her face as though she wasn’t quite sure how to describe what she did for a living. It wasn’t a very hard question, was it?

“Gretchen is our visual stylist,” Amelia said, jumping in to fill the silence.

“I have no idea what that is,” Julian admitted.

“Well, that’s why I hesitated,” Gretchen said. “I do a lot of different things. I design all the paper products, like the invitations and programs. I do all the calligraphy.”

“So you designed Murray’s invitations?”

A wide smile crossed Gretchen’s face for the first time. “I did. I was really excited about that design. I love it when I can incorporate something personal about the couple, and musical notes seemed like the perfect touch.”

“They were just what we were looking for,” Murray said.

“They were nice. I wouldn’t have remembered them otherwise.”

“Thank you. I also do a lot of the decorating and work with the various vendors to get the flowers and other touches set up for the wedding and the reception. I’m a jack-of-all-trades, really. On the day of the wedding, I might be doing emergency stitching on a bridesmaid’s dress, tracking down a wayward groomsman, helping Amelia in the kitchen...”

“Or pinch-hitting as the best man’s date?” Julian said with a chuckle.

“Apparently.” She sighed. “I was the only one that could do it.”

“You mean, you ladies weren’t clamoring over who got to spend time with me? I don’t know if I should be insulted or not.”

Gretchen shrugged and looked at him with a crooked smile that made him think maybe he should be insulted. “It’s got to be better than stitching up a torn bridesmaid’s dress, right? It’s not so bad to be around me. At least I don’t think it is. I’m fun, aren’t I, Murray?”

“Absolutely. You’re going to have a great time with Julian. Just don’t get him talking about his movies. He’ll be insufferable.”

“What’s wrong with my movies?” Julian asked with mock injury in his voice. He didn’t really need to ask. He knew better than anyone that all the films he’d done in the past few years were crap.

He’d started out at an acclaimed theater program at the University of Kentucky. He’d gotten a full scholarship out of high school, praised for his senior performance as the lead in The Music Man. He’d intended to go on to graduate and do more stage work. Maybe not musicals—he wasn’t the best singer—but he enjoyed the acting craft. Then his life fell apart and he had to drop out of school. Desperation drove him to commercial acting, and with a stroke of luck, he ended up where he was now. It wasn’t the creative, fulfilling career he’d dreamed of when he was younger, but his paycheck had more zeroes than he’d ever imagined he’d see in his lifetime.

Everyone laughed and they spent a while critiquing the plot of Bombs of Fury as their food arrived. The conversation continued on various subjects throughout the evening, flowing easily with the group. Gretchen had been quiet at first, but after talking about her work and mocking his, she started to warm up. Julian actually had a good time, which was rare, considering he was having to eat salmon and steamed broccoli while the rest of them were enjoying tastier foods. It should be against the law to be in the South and not be able to eat anything fried.

When it was over, they headed out to their cars as a group. He walked Gretchen to the passenger door of Amelia’s SUV and leaned in close to her. “I had fun tonight.”

“Yeah,” she said, nervously eyeing him as he got close to her. “It was a pleasant surprise to run into you.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Tomorrow was the welcome party and their first official time out as a couple.

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.” On reflex, Julian leaned in to give her a kiss good-night. He was stopped short by Gretchen’s hand pressed against his chest.

“You know, no one is watching us. You don’t have to pretend to want to kiss me.”

Julian smiled. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years in LA, it’s that someone is always watching. But even then, I would still kiss you.”

“Why?” Her dark eyes searched his face in confusion, her brows drawn together.

She honestly didn’t think she was kissable. That was a shame. She was very kissable, with pouty lips glistening from just a touch of sparkly lip gloss. If he were interested in that sort of thing. Tonight, however, he was more focused on their cover and getting it right.

“I’m going to kiss you again because you need the practice. Every time I touch you, you stiffen up. You’ve got to relax. If it means I have to constantly paw at you and kiss you until you loosen up, so be it.” He’d had worse assignments.

Gretchen bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being touched.”

He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled it away from his chest, where she’d still been holding him back. “It’s not that hard. Just take a deep breath, tilt your head up to me and close your eyes.”

She did as she was instructed, leaning into him like a teenage girl being kissed for the first time. He shook away those thoughts and pressed his lips against hers. He’d intended it to be a quick kiss, knowing it would take a while for them to work up to a convincing one. But he found that once they touched, he didn’t want to pull away.

Gretchen smelled like berries. Her lips were soft, despite the hesitation in them. A tingle ran down his spine, the kind that made him want to wrap his arms around her and pull her soft body flush against his hard one. He settled for placing a hand on her upper arm.

She tensed immediately, and in an instant, the connection was severed. He pulled away and looked down at her, standing there with her eyes still closed.

“You did better this time,” he noted.

Her dark lashes fluttered as her eyes opened. A pink flush rushed across her cheeks as she looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Practice makes perfect, I guess.”

He laughed softly. It certainly did. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Be sure to bring extra lipstick.”