Microsoft Word - catherine mann - landis brothers 4 - rich man's fake fiancee.docx (9 page)

“As you can tell, Matthew has concerns for me and the stresses of campaign scrutiny. That’s why he tried to keep me out of the limelight. So I solved the problem by proposing to him.”

Chuckles rumbled through the crowd while reporters went wild taking notes. He had to admit, she’d handled the question well while sticking to the truth.

She cast a shy glance through her eyelashes. “You’ll have to pardon me if I insist the rest of the details are very personal and private.” The laughter swelled again. Ashley waited patiently for the hubbub to subside. “And I know when to end on a positive note. Thank you for having us here today.”

Matthew palmed the small of her back and ushered her toward the exit behind the podium. The door swooshed behind them, muffling clicking cameras. He leaned and captured her lips with his—hey, wait, where had that idea come from?—but too late, he’d already done it. He was totally entranced with the way she’d glowed behind that podium. So much so, all his good intentions for protecting her with distance had flown right the hell out the window.

Now that he had her against him again, the taste of her fresh on his tongue, he had to savor the moment for an extra stroke longer before easing the kiss to an end. He settled her against his chest instead while he regained control.

“You did a fantastic job handling that reporter, Ashley.”

“I answered truthfully.” Her fingers gripped his lapels, her words breathy in the narrow corridor leading to a brightly lit Exit sign out of the small community college auditorium.

“You answered artfully.” He forced himself to step back, but couldn’t bring himself to release her arms, convenient since she still held his jacket. “There’s a skill to that.”

“It was worth it to hear your campaign manager go on life support.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“He has no reason to trust me. I don’t have a track record.” Her eyebrows pinched together. “Matthew, I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you something, but there are always people around, so I may as well spill it now. Why haven’t you told your family the truth?”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Answering a question with a question isn’t going to work this time.”

He gave her the truth as best he understood it. “So much of my life is an open book. I prefer to keep things private when I can.” As he’d done about his relationship with Dana. Ashley had a way of pushing his buttons and making him open up before he realized it, a decidedly uncomfortable feeling. “Besides, my family would only worry if they knew, which I suspect is the same reason you haven’t told your sisters.”

“You’re very perceptive.” She relaxed against his chest, soft, sweet smelling and too sexy given the way she’d been turning him inside out all morning long.

“I’m sorry you’re in this position at all.” And damn but he knew to be more careful in his word choices. Now the word positions had him thinking of all the different ways he would like to have Ashley under him, over him, around him. “If I could go back and do things differently, I—”

RICH MAN’S FAKE FIANCEE

19

CATHERINE MANN

SILHOUETTE DESIRE 1878

THE LANDIS BROTHERS

He stopped. He couldn’t complete the sentence because he realized without question that he wouldn’t give up that night with Ashley, even realizing how things would turn out. God, but that made him a selfish bastard.

Her eyes locked with his, her lips parting slightly. She arched up on her toes just as he felt his head magnetically drawn back down toward her. His mouth grazed hers, once, twice, only long enough for a gentle nip that sent his insides aching for more.

What harm could there be in exploring the sexual side of things? A brief affair…More of the taste of Ashley…

The door swung open, cutting short the moment if not his desire. His campaign manager barged toward them, not bothering to slam the door, damn him, undoubtedly more than happy for the reporters to snap a shot now.

Brent clapped his hands together. “Okay, love-birds, time to get this show on the road.”

Matthew watched Ashley as she followed Brent out the door. He didn’t want a committed relationship and he most definitely was not giving his heart away again. However, something told him as he watched Ashley, new confidence swinging in her step, he might not be able to walk away as easily as he’d imagined.

Seven

E njoying the play of moonlight across the ocean, Ashley gripped the railing of the harbor cruise paddle boat as it docked and thought of the thousand questions she’d answered since yesterday morning. Hands she’d shaken. Babies she’d cradled.

The last part had been the easiest because those little constituents didn’t vote. She hadn’t realized until the morning paper that she’d been lured into the most cliché campaign moment possible. Thinking about her every move and word was downright exhausting, especially when she and Matthew actually knew so little about each other. She really should make out a questionnaire asking about funky facts from his past.

Tonight had been pleasant with the romantic setting and fairly tasty meal—Beachcombers could have provided better, of course—but the evening had been nice. Except for the fact she’d barely seen Matthew. She rubbed her arms, trying to will away the irritation she had no right to experience. She focused instead on the beauty around her.

Lights were strung along the paddle boat cruiser. Dinner tables were littered along one deck. The upper deck rang with swing-band dance music. A waiter strolled by with a silver platter resting on one palm, perfectly balancing the tray of champagne flutes.

Matthew stepped from the shadows, sipping his seltzer water. His eyes scanned down with obvious approval glinting and she winged a prayer of thanks to Ginger Landis Renshaw, her fairy godmother who’d been wise enough not to try to transform her into Cinderella. Instead, she’d simply helped Ashley fine tune her own tastes in ways she never could have envisioned on her own.

She certainly wouldn’t have thought to select a dress that left her shoulders bare. She’d always tried to cover the uneven tilt with layers—the more the better. But then Ginger had pulled out the simple cream dress stitched in gold with a plunging V-neck in the front and back. She’d dreamed of this sort of satiny fabric sliding over her skin. Ginger had added a lightweight, gold shawl.

Matthew tipped back his water glass and drained the whole thing as if his throat were parched.

Ashley savored the moment and searched for small talk to keep him standing with her. “You’re not drinking any of that top-notch champagne?”

“Seems like a recipe for disaster, mixing alcohol and reporters.” He glanced at Ashley’s drink.

She rattled her ice, saddened again that they knew so little about each other. “Seltzer water for me, too, but with a lime.”

“My apologies for jumping to conclusions. Let me get you a refill to make up for ignoring you all evening.”

“Thank you.” Most of all for noticing that she’d been left to her own devices. That eased the sting.

She leaned back against the rail, studying the couples dancing up on the deck. The ocean wind carried snippets of conversations her way from partiers as well as people milling about and disembarking down the gangplank. She paid little attention until her ear snagged on a familiar voice, the campaign manager’s brisk baritone.

“She did better than I expected.”

“That’s not saying much,” another man responded, a voice she vaguely recognized from a telephone briefing she’d received earlier. “Your expectations weren’t very high.”

“Well, what can I say?” Brent answered. “She wasn’t what I would have chosen for him on the campaign trail or as a senator’s wife. She brings nothing to the table politically except that shy little smile. However, what’s done is done. He will have to make the best of things. At least she won’t outshine him.”

Ouch. That one hurt more than a little. But then eavesdroppers rarely heard good about themselves.

“I thought Ginger did a decent job with the makeover,” the other man continued, “not too flashy, not too schoolmarmish.

The outfit is classy but Ashley doesn’t look like someone playing dress-up with her mother’s clothes.”

“Yeah, about that age thing. What the hell was Matthew thinking? She’s only what, twenty-four? The pressure is going to demolish her.”

Ashley had heard enough. She refused to stand around like an insecure wimp, regardless of how much their words hurt, reminding her yet again how she was the wrong kind of woman for Matthew. At least she could make sure they never knew how deeply the barbs dug.

She stepped out of the shadows. “Twenty-three, thank you very much. I am twenty-three. You of all people should have your facts in order better than that. But thanks for the extra year of maturity vote of confidence to go along with my honors diploma in accounting from the College of Charleston.”

“Ah hell.” Brent had the good grace to wince while music echoed on the sea breeze. “We didn’t see you there. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn in a public setting.”

“Apology accepted.” There was no use in making an enemy of the man. She just didn’t want his pity because it played on her already pervasive sense that she couldn’t be the kind of woman Matthew needed. “Although I would warn you of a very good piece of advice I received at a briefing recently. Never, never speak a sound bite you wouldn’t want repeated.”

“Point well taken,” the campaign manager agreed, hesitating only long enough to check for privacy. “But hear me on this.

I’ve been around this business a long time and you’re not cut out for this. Most importantly, Martin Stewart is a wily opponent not to be taken lightly and you’re not helping Matthew.”

Before Ashley could answer, Matthew rounded the corner with her drink in hand. “Here you are, Ashley. I thought I’d lost you to another reporter.” He passed the glass to her. “Your sparkling water, complete with a twist of lime.”

“Thank you.” The tart taste fit right in with her souring mood.

Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “Is everything all right here?”

RICH MAN’S FAKE FIANCEE

20

CATHERINE MANN

SILHOUETTE DESIRE 1878

THE LANDIS BROTHERS

Ashley stirred her drink with the thin straw, unwilling to risk causing any scene or rift between Matthew and his campaign manager.

She stabbed her straw through the ice. “Everything’s fine. Why shouldn’t it be? Your manager is just discussing ways I can be more helpful on the campaign trail.”

Matthew slid an arm around her waist. “She doesn’t have to do anything other than be herself.”

Ashley appreciated him saying that, but she knew full well she hadn’t offered anything substantive to his campaign beyond stopping rumors he was indiscriminately sleeping around.

Brent leaned back on the rail on both elbows. “I worry about the two of you.”

“Just do your job.” Matthew’s voice took on that renowned Landis icy tone. “If you have anything more to say on this subject, we can take it up at headquarters later.”

“You’re the boss.” Brent shoved away from the rail and walked away with his companion.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at the retreating man, then turned back to Ashley. “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing. Really. Everything’s fine.”

Matthew brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, glancing around much like Brent when he’d checked to be sure no one could overhear. “You look tired. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

His words, too close to Brent’s concerns, pissed her off when her emotions were already raw. She wasn’t a weakling, damn it. “What a smooth talker you are.”

“Beautiful—but tired. I realize campaigning can be a grind.” He stepped away, taking her drink from her and placing it on a deck table alongside his. “We’re leaving now.”

“You can’t go.” She looked around at the people still dancing on the upper deck. “This is your party.”

“I most certainly can punch out whenever I want. We’ve docked. Others are disembarking. I learned a while back if I stay

’til lights out at every function I’m on hand when the party turns wild and that never goes well for a politician come picture time.”

When he put it that way…. She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Well, by all means then, let’s blow this pop stand before Mrs. Hamilton-Reis hangs her bra in place of the flag.”

Chuckling, he shuddered. “Thanks for placing that image in my mind.”

“Always happy to please.”

His eyes narrowed. “You do please me, you know. Very much, Ashley Carson.” He dipped his head and brushed his mouth along her ear. “I’m so very sorry I messed things up for the chance to please you again.”

His words sent a thrill of excitement and power up her spine. Sure, Brent Davis’s years of political wisdom attested to reasons she wasn’t the wisest choice to stand by Matthew’s side, at least for tonight, she could have one more memory to tuck away.

And she intended to make the most of it.

Strolling along the private shoreline outside his home with Ashley, Matthew wondered if he’d pushed too hard too fast by saying something suggestive to Ashley on the boat. He wanted an affair with her, but he already sensed they wouldn’t have much time. She would cut and run from his lifestyle soon enough, without a doubt.

But all the touching and kissing for the camera was playing hell with his libido. He’d suggested this barefoot walk alone along the shore to cool them both down before they turned in for the night. A long night. Likely alone, because as much as he wanted her, she would have to set the pace this time.

Ashley kicked her way through the rolling surf, her gold shawl billowing behind her in the breeze. Creamy white fabric with its tantalizing glimmers of gold stitching molded to her chest the way he wanted to fit his palms against her curves.

Gathering the hem of her gown up to her knees, she shot ahead a couple of paces before spinning on her bare feet to face him, her loose hair streaking around her face. “What did you dress up as for Halloween as a kid?”

Her question blindsided him more than anything he’d heard from the most seasoned reporter. Of course that could also have something to do with his lust-fogged brain at the moment. “Excuse me? I’m accustomed to obscure questions from the press, but that one came way out of left field.”