A Pretend Proposal: The Fiancée Fiasco / Faking It to Making It / The Wedding Must Go On

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_cc03a569-418a-569d-b698-1f50a6394c36)

THEY talked throughout their meal about the inconsequential things that ultimately helped people get to know one another. Little by little, more of the true Elizabeth Morris emerged. As Thomas already had surmised, there was far more to her than first met the eye. And he wasn’t completely comfortable with the woman now seated across from him.

He’d meant it when he’d said earlier that he had the feeling she was perfect. Not just for the role he wanted her to play, either. She was funny, interesting and smart, definitely. And he knew from that kiss that, under different circumstances, he wouldn’t mind pursuing a more intimate relationship with her. But that would have to wait, assuming she felt the same way. Right now it was business. Even if it also came with a few perks, he decided, as his gaze slid to her mouth. As long as they were on the same page, he might as well as enjoy them.

He rounded up the last morsel of chicken on his plate and grinned in satisfaction when it stayed between his chopsticks. After eating it, he motioned across the room. “Tell me about that picture on your refrigerator door.”

She glanced over. Amusement was apparent in her eyes and her voice when she replied, “The one of Mel and me shrieking like a pair of loons?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m a roller-coaster junkie,” she admitted, reaching up to adjust the band that held her hair back from her face. “I’m guessing that comes as a surprise to you, too.”

“Guilty.” While he would have pictured her holding on for dear life as the car crested the summit and plunged over, he saw proof to the contrary affixed to the refrigerator. The photo of her and the young woman he’d met at Literacy Liaisons showed Elizabeth in the front seat of the first car, slim arms waving over her head, a delighted grin flashing over her face.

“Well, I am. The steeper, the faster, the more winding the better.” She said it with pride and just a little defiance.

“When and where was that taken?”

“Last summer. Mel and I took some of our younger clients on a field trip to an amusement park in Ohio,” she told him. “That particular coaster was new and billed as the highest and fastest one in the Midwest. Mel dared me to go on it and take that first plunge hands-free.” Now her smile was every bit as smug as it was nostalgic.

“Can’t turn down a dare?” His mouth began to water. He blamed it on the spices that were still making his tongue sting.

“Sure I can. But not one where I know I can do it.”

“Dang.” He snapped his fingers in mock dismay. “Another one of my misconceptions busted.”

“Besides, there was an ice-cream cone riding on my saying yes.”

“Ice cream. I like ice cream.” His gaze was on her mouth and his own was watering again. This time, there was no denying the exact cause.

“Who doesn’t?”

“What flavor do you prefer?”

“Vanilla.” Elizabeth cocked her head to one side. “Before you condemn me for being boring—”

“Never.” He meant it. He was finding her way too enchanting to be bored.

“Good.” She offered a quick smile before continuing. “Vanilla is my favorite because it’s the most versatile flavor of ice cream out there. As such, it offers one a chance to get creative.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way before,” he replied truthfully.

“Most people haven’t, but they should. Buy a half gallon of vanilla ice cream and you can add whatever you want and create the exact flavor you’re after.”

“Practical,” he agreed.

Her frown told him she didn’t quite care for the description, even before she said, “I prefer to think of it as being flexible, maybe even a little imaginative. Add fresh strawberries, chocolate syrup, caramel, peanuts, what have you and you’ve crafted a new flavor.”

“The possibilities are endless.” Suddenly, he was seeing vanilla in a whole new light, just as he’d already begun to see Elizabeth differently.

They chatted about coasters and ice cream for the remainder of their meal. When they finished eating, he helped her carry their dishes to the sink. She tried to shoo him back to his seat.

“There’s no need. Really. You’re my guest.”

“Actually, I’m your fiancé, remember?” He chose not to ponder how easily the word rolled off his tongue. “My grandmother was a stickler when it came to household chores. From the first day she came to live with us, she drilled into me the importance of cleaning up after myself.”

“Smart woman.”

He nodded. “That bit of instruction has served me well. I may be a bachelor, but my house isn’t a pigsty.”

Her brows rose. “Cleaning lady?”

“Well, yeah. But she only comes every other week.”

Elizabeth grinned as she finished rinsing off their plates and stacking them on the counter next to the sink. Afterward, she turned toward him, her expression both innocent and beguiling when she asked, “So, now what?”

Now, there was a question. Usually after dinner with a woman one of two things happened. If it was early in a relationship, they engaged in prolonged foreplay. If they’d been dating awhile and were mutually agreeable, they skipped all pretense and headed to the nearest bedroom. Maybe it was just as well that Elizabeth’s was currently occupied with one very large and not so friendly canine.

He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t quite nine. The last time he’d ended an evening out with a member of the opposite sex this early, he’d been a teenager with a curfew. Besides, they had barely scratched the surface. He didn’t know nearly enough about Elizabeth to satisfy either his grandmother’s or his own curiosity.

“I’m eager to hear more revelations. What other dark secrets are you hiding?” He said it in jest, but for a second she looked … guilty?

He must have imagined it, he decided. Because a moment later she was grinning gamely when she announced, “Well, I like to play poker.”

“Poker?”

“It’s not like I’m a contender for one of those televised tournaments where the stakes are huge or anything, but I enjoy the game.” She rinsed out their glasses. “More water?”

“After that revelation, I think I could use a glass of that wine you offered me earlier.”

He uncorked the bottle while she got out a couple of what appeared to be handblown goblets.

“Fancy,” he commented as he poured.

“They were a gift from a client, one of our first. Cassidy McClurg. She’s on track now to earn her sommelier certification. Her dream is to work someday at a top New York restaurant. I think she’s well on her way”

“To Literacy Liaisons and changing lives.” He handed Elizabeth one of the glasses and then clinked his against it.

They adjourned to her small livingroom then. Since the windows were open, he could hear the crickets chirping outside and sundry other noises associated with nightfall in a neighborhood. He missed those sounds now that his windows were always closed with the central air-conditioning humming.

Like the kitchen, the room needed updating. The carpet, a nondescript brown color, was faded in places with well-worn paths from the postage-stamp-sized foyer to the kitchen and the hallway that led to the bedrooms. But the place was tidy. And homey thanks to all of the little touches that, quite frankly, were lacking in the sprawling house he’d lived in for more than half a decade.

He settled into the recliner after Elizabeth sat on the love seat. Their positions made for easier conversation. That’s what he told himself anyway, since the empty cushion next to her looked way too inviting.

“Let’s get back to you and poker.”

It turned out she played mainly at charity fundraising events and had never been to any of Michigan’s American Indian tribe-run casinos, let alone the huge gambling venues found in Las Vegas. But she knew the difference between a full house and a straight and, given that serene, guileless expression of hers, he’d bet she was a pro at bluffing.