A Deal With the Devil (12 page)

Amanda glanced at her watch; ten more minutes. She filled her wine glass, tipped it back and swallowed half. Then she set the glass on the counter, picked up her phone and punched in Kate’s number. She tapped a French-tipped fingernail on the counter as she waited.

Kate answered, but as usual, she didn’t bother with the standard greeting. She got right to the point. “Is he there yet?”

“Any minute,” Amanda said. “Tell me this is a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” Kate’s thick southern drawl soothed Amanda’s raw nerves.

“Tell me it’ll be okay.” Her hand shook as she tipped the glass to her lips and swallowed more wine.

“It’ll be okay. It
really
will. I promise,” Kate said. “Have some wine.”

Amanda picked up the wine glass. “Way ahead of you.”

“Before you know it, you’ll be out of debt and strolling through the streets of Paris, living large and looking
fab…u…lous
.” Kate sang the last word.

Despite her nervous stomach, Amanda smiled. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d dreamed of living large, or looking fabulous for that matter. Her thoughts drifted to Paris. She’d fantasized about a year abroad since childhood—it was a dream her mother had placed in her heart. She’d given up on the dream when her parents died and hadn’t even thought of it in several years.

She sipped at her wine as memories of her mother drifted back. The way she’d perched on the edge of her bed and told romantic tales of the magical city where she’d met Amanda’s father. Those stories had fueled her girlish fantasies and she’d been convinced her real-life prince would be there waiting for her, just as her mother’s had been. Unfortunately, the dream had died along with her parents, which made it all the more exciting to once again have it within her reach. It made her feel closer to her mother, to both her parents.

“This is your chance for a total life do-over,” Kate said.

A do-over; it’s
exactly
what she’d wanted from her stay at the cabin. Maybe her weekend catastrophe hadn’t been such a bad idea after all, though her ankle still hurt a bit.

She started to feel calmer and then the doorbell rang.

A swarm of internal butterflies took flight. “He’s here!” Amanda clutched the phone.

“Breathe,” Kate said. “And repeat after me: I can do this.”

“I can do this,” Amanda said, sounding decidedly less confident than Kate. She swallowed more wine. “But
why
am I doing this?”

“So you can get back to your old, fabulous self,” Kate said, her tone pure Alabama steel, which made it clear she’d entertain no more weakness. “Now, suck it up and go!”

She hung up. Old, fabulous self, she thought, with the emphasis on old. Turning thirty sucked.

Amanda had long forgotten the deal she’d made with her maker while at the cabin and was back to her constant complaints and obsessions about her thirtieth birthday. Only twenty-four dismal days left before she’d have to accept the fact that she’d achieved very few items on her By Thirty List. On the bright side, her total lack of accomplishment made the development of her By Forty List quite easy. She’d just change the header.

The doorbell buzzed again. “Just a minute,” she shouted. Then she drained her glass, set it on the counter and wiped her sweaty palms on her black wool pencil skirt as she walked to the door, repeating
I can do this,
over and over again.

She paused for a moment to gather her nerve, then threw her shoulders back and plastered a fake smile on her face as she opened the door. “Come in,” she said, trying to exude a confidence she didn’t feel.

Jake stepped inside. “Just get home?”

She nodded.

“Nice place,” he said, as he glanced around. “When did you buy it?”

“Eight months ago.”

He smiled. “It looks like you.”

Her gaze followed his. She recalled the minimalist design of his townhouse and figured his comment meant her decor looked fussy and girly. “Thank you, I think,” she said. “Kate helped me.”

“It was a compliment.” He pointed to his briefcase. “Where do you want to do this?”

Amanda gestured toward the sofa. “We’ll be more comfortable in there. Wine?”

“Sure, unless you have something stronger.”

“Sorry, all I have is Chardonnay.”

“Then make it a double.”

She poured Jake his double, fixed herself a fresh glass and carried them into the living room. As she leaned over to hand Jake his wine, his spicy, woodsy scent enveloped her in man and memories. She backed away and settled on the loveseat across from him, which was as far away as she could get and still be in the same room.

Jake removed a stack of papers from the briefcase, set them on the table and tapped them. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to read through these?”

She slid the papers toward her as Jake tipped his glass back and swallowed a good amount of wine. She smiled. “Nervous?”

“As any sane person would be,” he drawled.

“Good to know I’m sane.” She looked at the first sheet and then leafed through a few other pages but the words blurred together. She laid the papers on the table and picked up her wine. “Can you just cover the high points?”

“Sure.” He cleared his throat. “Most importantly, the agreement has no expiration date. Our engagement will continue for three months
after
I get access to the trust fund. Then, we’ll stage a break-up. But I warn you; I don’t know how long it’ll take for this charade to play out. Hopefully, for both our sakes, it’ll be quick.”

“Why do we have to wait for three months before we break up?”

“So my grandfather won’t get suspicious. It would look bad if I got the money and we broke up the next day.”

“True. What else?”

He pulled an envelope out of his briefcase and tossed it on the table.

“What’s that?”

“An advance,” he leaned back and watched her. “You’ll get the rest after the break-up.”

Her eyes shifted from Jake to the envelope and her pulse raced. It was all she could do not to snatch the envelope off the table and rip it open. Instead, she calmly reached for it, but her finger trembled ever so slightly as she slid it the under the flap. When she saw the amount, she couldn’t stop her sharp intake of breath and her free hand flew to her throat as she said, “This is a hundred thousand dollars!”

“Fifty percent upfront seemed fair,” he said, looking like he was fighting the urge to smile.

It was all she could do not to leap onto the coffee table and dance a little victory jig. Instead, she maintained her boardroom-cool façade and slid the check back into the envelope. But her voice sounded a little shaky as she said, “Thank you, Jake.”

“You’ll earn it, trust me. You have to deal with me and my grandfather for God only knows how long and that’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” he said with a grimace.

She smiled and inclined her head.

“Finally, there’s the confidentiality agreement. Sam and Kate are in the loop but I don’t want anyone else to know. If word gets out, you’ll have to repay me in full.”

“I promise.” She wasn’t worried about the confidentiality clause. She didn’t want anyone to know about their deal either.

“That’s it. As soon as you sign, our agreement is official.”

She pulled the papers toward her. Jake handed her a pen and then leaned back to watch. Amanda initialed the bottom of each sheet, signed the last page and then pushed the stack toward Jake. He initialed and signed on the lines next to her. When he finished, he slid the agreement back into the manila envelope, placed it in his briefcase and snapped the clasps closed.

He finished the last of his wine and stood. “Are you available for dinner tomorrow? I’ll call Max in the morning to break the news. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”

“Of course,” she said, trying to sound composed as a sense of dread settled over her. Their agreement had just started and it was already getting a little too real.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

She closed the door behind him and collapsed against it, her eyes drawn to the white envelope lying on the table. The fat check nestled inside would solve all her financial problems. She’d already decided that, first thing tomorrow, she would pay off her debts. Given her money struggles, she should feel excited, exhilarated even. But instead, all she felt was a sense of impending doom which wasn’t surprising considering she’d just made a deal with the devil.

Chapter Seven

manda studied her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She looked pretty good. Of course, she was wearing her go-to dress, the little black number she pulled out whenever she needed an extra shot of confidence. Which tonight, she could certainly use. The dress hugged her curves where it mattered and hid all the curves that didn’t. Best of all, it visually shaved off a good ten pounds, even without the help of Spanx.

She smoothed her hands down the front and tugged at the hem. Then she reached into the closet and pulled out her black platform pumps, slipped her lip gloss and keys into her black evening bag and clipped on a pair of silver hoops.

The doorbell rang.

Her stomach fluttered. Still, she felt calmer than she had anticipated, but as she opened the door, her breath caught in her throat. “Hey,” she said. Typically a jeans guy, tonight Jake wore a dark gray suit that looked custom-fit to his tall, athletic body. The crisp white shirt popped against his sapphire tie and the combination emphasized his bronzed skin and impossibly blue eyes.

“You look sensational.” Jake’s eyes slid down her body.

She blushed. “Thanks.”
Remember, this isn’t for real. Don’t fall for him again.
This was a high stakes game of make-believe and she had been extremely well-compensated for her part. She reached for her coat and in as business-like a voice as she could muster, said, “Are we ready?”

“Hang on.” Jake pulled a turquoise-colored ring box from his jacket and thrust it toward her.

Amanda froze and stared at it. She had hoped for—no
expected—
a ring the night he dumped her. The break-up had been a harsh gesture on the eve of her twenty-ninth birthday and marked the end to a year-long fantasy in which she’d allowed herself to believe her dreams could come true. She should have known better.

As she gazed at the box now, memories of the break-up rushed back. A night spent in a darkened bedroom with Kate, two bottles of wine and three boxes of Puffs Plus. She’d emerged the next morning with a massive hangover, a bright red nose and a shattered heart. And nearly a year later, she still wasn’t over it.

“Take it.” Jake shook the box, the look on his face made it clear he preferred to rid himself of the offending item as soon as possible.

Of course he did. A Tiffany box bearing an engagement ring would be sacrilege to a man like Jake. If the box hadn’t dredged up so many bad memories, the horrified expression on his face might have spurred a fit of giggles. When she still didn’t reach for the box, Jake grabbed her hand and plopped it in her palm.

Relief permeated every aspect of his being.

As Amanda’s gaze moved from Jake’s relieved expression to the turquoise box, she was forced to deal with the first tangible evidence of their agreement. She must have lost her mind. Seriously. Why else would she have agreed to fake an engagement with Jake? Sure, she needed the money and now she had it, but what had possessed her to think she could pretend to be engaged; pretend she no longer felt anything for the man she had hoped to marry one day.