Rent A Millionaire Groom

His surprise didn’t make sense, unless it was caused by his pride. “Why, yes. Please don’t be embarrassed. I understand acting jobs aren’t too plentiful unless you’re in Hollywood.” He continued to stare at her. “You are Bobby Dillon, aren’t you?”

His eyes seemed to widen. Then, after a quick look over his shoulder, he said, “Yes, that’s me. I’m—I’m Bobby Dillon.”

And Cecille had been right. He was perfect. “If you don’t want to go to the Student Union, there’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks over. Shall I meet you there in—” she paused to look at her watch “—fifteen minutes?”

“All right,” he agreed.

She stuck out her hand to seal the agreement, almost afraid he wouldn’t show. “I’ll see you there.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

She could feel his gaze on her as she walked out of the auditorium, and for the first time in her life she wished she had Phoebe’s knockout looks.

She wasn’t much of a match for the Prince Charming she’d just found.

JAMES DILLON STARED at the young woman walking away. Her neat figure would attract almost any man, but it was the anxious expression in her green eyes that had caught his attention.

That and the offer of a job.

He chuckled, a sound not often heard of late. There hadn’t been a lot to laugh about. Which explained why he was hanging out on campus, visiting his brother, the apparently famous Bobby Dillon.

“Who was that?” Bobby asked, coming up behind him.

“I’m not sure.”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, thanks for helping me out. I was pretty sure Sandy wasn’t projecting, but I needed to be on stage to keep the pace going.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” James was barely following Bobby’s words. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. She wasn’t a student—not dressed in that suit. Her light brown hair had been pulled back with a clasp, small gold earrings on her ears. Nothing flashy, suggestive or even inviting.

The opposite of Sylvia, his ex-wife, thank God.

“So, I’ll see you later?” Bobby asked, turning back toward the stage. “Or you’re welcome to hang around for the next class, if you want.”

“Uh, no, thanks, I’ve got—got some things to do. See you later.”

Bobby called an agreement over his shoulder, leaving James free to concentrate on the mystery woman.

Her request had seemed really important to her. Of course, he knew it was unfair to let her think he was Bobby. After he heard her offer, he’d probably have to confess his lie. But just for a while, for an hour, he could be someone other than James Dillon, wealthy businessman, pursued by women all over Arizona.

Lately, being James Dillon hadn’t been much fun.

So dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, a short-sleeved knit shirt with the shirttail hanging out, he’d come to see Bobby.

He checked his watch. He’d have to hurry to make the fifteen-minute deadline. And it suddenly seemed important to find out exactly what Miss Green Eyes wanted.

Because he was a sucker for green eyes.

ELISE HAD GONE straight to the coffee shop, needing time to pull herself together and go over her proposal. The man was perfect, and she didn’t want to mess things up. Now that she’d seen him, the half-baked plan had become a necessity.

Her sisters would die. He was handsome, as Cecille had said—but there was more. He carried an air of authority that commanded attention. Her thoughts flew to her ex-fiancе, Richard. He’d be apoplectic with jealousy.

That thought pleased her, even as she acknowledged its pettiness. Why Bobby hadn’t been discovered professionally yet, she didn’t know. But she could predict a brilliant future for him in Hollywood.

Something caused her to look up, and she almost forgot to breathe. He stood by the table, waiting for her to invite him to join her. “Oh, hi!” she said, realizing she sounded as breathy and enthralled as a freshman girl talking to the senior football star.

She cleared her throat. “Won’t you sit down?”

That was better, more professional.

He smiled, and she had to take another deep breath. She figured his value just doubled.

“Thanks. You know me, but I haven’t met you before, have I? What’s your name?”

Her cheeks flamed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was intent on getting you to listen to me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Elise Foster, French professor at the school.”

“I’m delighted to meet you.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” she said, letting out her pent-up breath. He looked older and somehow more sophisticated than the college students. But he was a teaching assistant, she remembered, so he had to be in advanced graduate studies.

He frowned, and she wondered what she’d said wrong.

“Would you mind calling me James? Bobby is a stage name. Unless I need it for the job you’re offering.”

“Of course, James. I mean, it won’t be necessary if you— Yes, that’s fine.”

The waitress appeared beside the table, distracting them. Elise ordered a diet cola, but James opted for coffee.

“Do you want anything to eat? A piece of pie, French fries, a hamburger?” she offered. After all, actors were notoriously broke. Maybe he hadn’t eaten in a while.

“No thanks, just coffee.”

As soon as the waitress left, he leaned forward, loosely clasping his hands together on the table.

She loved his hands. Well-tended, the fingers were long but strong, powerful. She also noticed he wore no wedding ring. She hadn’t even thought to ask about that.

“You’re not married, are you?” she asked hurriedly.

One dark eyebrow rose over clear blue eyes. “This…offer is getting more interesting by the minute.”

She blushed again. “No! I didn’t mean— It might complicate things if— Never mind.”

“No, I’m not married.”

“Oh, good.” At least he hadn’t run out of the coffee shop in horror. She wasn’t managing to sound as in control as she’d planned, but he was still here.

“Why does it matter?”

“Well, I told you the job was—was personal. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I need an escort.”