Fake Wife Page 3

  For a brief moment I see a flash of a smile and he points to my backseat. “Are you okay? Seems like you have your entire life packed in the back of your car.”

  “That’s because it is,” I admit before I can filter myself. Not that I’m very good at it anyway, clearly. I force back more tears from the day, the morning, how much life currently sucks. “What can I say? It’s been a pretty bad day. I swear I have the money to fix your car. And insurance.”

  I wiggle the card again.

  His gaze roams my face, my hair, and drops down the length of my body. It’s slow and not altogether unpleasant. I fight the urge to tremble under his inspection, his blue eyes so light they’re almost clear, until his eyes snap to mine.

  Directing his hand in a waving motion behind me, he says, “We should get off the road. Let these people stop gawking and get back to their day. Follow me to that parking lot over there and we’ll deal with everything.”

  He finally takes the card from my hand and glances at it.

  “Teagan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow me.”

  He steps around me and hurries to his car. When his engine finally starts, he peers back at me through his rear window. Technically, I could take off. But he has my name and at least my last address. Not like I’m difficult for someone like him to track down.

  With a trembling sigh, I climb into my car, thankful at least the accident didn’t destroy my car’s engine, and I pull into traffic, following him to the lot. He gets out of his Mercedes and meets me at my car door, holding out a hand to help me exit. I stare at it before taking it, letting him pull me to my feet and then closing the door behind me.

  “So? Insurance?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

  “Actually,” he says in that deep voice I haven’t heard much of but that does wicked things to my stomach in a way I very much like. “I have a proposition of sorts for you. Care to join me for something to eat?”

  Did I hear what I just think I did? I couldn’t have. “Like what, a way to pay off the damage to your car?”

  “No.” He grins down at me, tugging me toward an elegant French restaurant called Le Chat Noir. I’ve always wanted to go there but could never afford to. “I’ll take care of the car. I have something else for you in mind. But first, tell me this.”

  “What?”

  “How do you feel about cats?”

  My eyes open wide and I glance from him to the restaurant. I have very little knowledge of French, but even I know the name is The Black Cat.

  “You mean to eat?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. And holy crap, it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful, so much more than that, but the word handsome doesn’t come nearly close enough. With his laughter rumbling through me, I’m barely able to stand straight.

  “No,” he says, wiping his smile off and shoving his hand into his pocket. “I mean for a pet.”

  “Oh.” I scrunch my nose.

  My nonanswer makes him grin again. Why this makes a man like him happy puzzles me. Plus, we should get back on topic.

  I stop walking and he’s forced to do the same. “Are you okay? I mean, I didn’t hit you that hard, but you have a bruise already, and well, this is weird. You should be yelling at me or something. Right?”

  “Do you want me to yell at you?”

  “Well, I could live without it.”

  “Perfect.” He’s still holding my hand and he tugs me forward. “Then join me inside. I’m not much of a yeller, and like I said, I have a better idea.”

  Chapter 4

  Corbin

  What in the hell am I thinking?

  Nothing clearly, that’s for certain. Perhaps I enjoyed too much whiskey with Trey earlier. Perhaps I slammed my head into the steering wheel harder than I thought. Perhaps the woman now holding my hand is so damn freaking beautiful I thought I’d seen an angel when I first stepped out of my car.

  Her caramel-colored hair fell almost to her waist, blowing gently in the breeze, but it wasn’t just the curves or her hair, or her wide and terrified brown eyes that immediately piqued my interest.

  As soon as I saw the crap piled into the back of Teagan’s well-used Prius and she said, “What can I say? It’s been a long day,” my brain made a decision before my common sense could kick in.

  She’s not only stunning…she’s normal.

  She’ll also look good on my arm.

  She’ll look even better wearing my wedding ring.

  That is, if I can get her to say yes, but if her day is as bad as I’m imagining it’s been, I’m betting on the house that she doesn’t have very many options in front of her at the moment.

  I hold open the door to Le Chat Noir for her, guiding her inside with my hand at her lower back, and still grinning at her horrified expression when I asked her what she thought about cats. No, we’re not eating them. The very fact she thought that tells me she’s unlike any woman I’ve met before.

  Teagan is tall; taller than most women I’ve been with. She’s wearing flats and the top of her head brushes at the height of my shoulder. Perfect, really. At six-foot-three, I’m a tall guy. When she’s wearing heels and a formal gown, I won’t have to bend to kiss her.

  I kick that thought out of my head. Yeah, her body is slamming hot, with full perky breasts and long legs, but that’s not what this possible marriage is about.

  It’s a business decision, period. I will not think with my dick, but with my brain.

  “Deux, s’il vous plaît,” I say to the host, dressed in a full tuxedo, as we enter.

  “Certainement, monsieur,” he replies. “Suis-moi.”

  We follow as he requests and I guide Teagan in front of me, keeping my hand on her back, just high enough to be appropriate. Neither of us are dressed for the formal restaurant, but since it’s well past the lunch hour, nearing three o’clock, it’s almost empty. Besides, I come here often, and most of the servers know who I am. Or according to Teagan, every female under sixty knows who I am.

  I grin again, unable to stop it. Typically, constantly being recognized isn’t always a bonus, but in this case, I think it’s going to work in my favor. At least I don’t have to convince her that I’m not some perverted stranger trying to get her to move into my home and marry me.

  Plus, the way she said it, her eyes widening in fascination and then a blush hitting her cheeks, was adorable. Which isn’t exactly a word I use to describe women very often, but in this case, it suits her.

  Who would have thought that when a car rear-ended me, I’d be trying not to laugh at the person who caused the accident?

  I wave off the host as he reaches for Teagan’s chair. After helping her get seated, I take my own on the other side of the table. It’s meant for four, and with efficient movements, he clears the additional china place settings and returns with two waters. The entire process takes moments, and the whole time, Teagan is looking around the small restaurant with awe.

  “Have you ever been here before?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and laughs lightly. It’s the sound of pretty little bells ringing, and I lean in closer to hear her quiet voice some more. “Um. No. It’s a bit outside my price range, plus I’m not exactly sure why I’m here now.”

  I slide a menu in front of her. “I know it’s late, but have you had lunch? Order something and then we’ll talk. I have a problem I think you might be able to help me with.”

  Her eyes pop. “I can help you? That’s strange, considering I’m the one who ran into your car.”

  I wave her off. The amount of work it’s going to take to fix my car isn’t a big deal. Plus, when I’m at Eleanor’s I drive an old Ford Bronco around anyway. “Don’t worry about that. Have you eaten?”

  She glances down at the menu, light brown brows furrowing, and looks back at me. “I can’t read anything on here, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable staying, to be honest. This whole conversation is making me uncomfortable.”

  It’s not about to get any mor
e comfortable, either, but her honesty and bluntness not only surprises me, it pleases me.

  Yeah, she’s definitely one of the normal women I’ve decided I need to find. Most women would want to impress me with their knowledge of a different language, or fake it if they don’t know it.

  Using all my Lane charm, I lean forward and smile, dropping my voice that’s been well known across the city to make panties drop. “Relax. This will be painless, I promise.”

  She reaches for her water and takes a large swallow. “Not really helping.”

  We’re interrupted by the waiter, and instead of asking what she’d like or explaining the menu, I place an order for chocolate crepes for her along with two glasses of Château Margaux Bordeaux. Perhaps the alcohol will help her stick around long enough to hear me out.

  Once the waiter leaves, I take a sip of my own water and rest my forearms on the table. Before I can get into why I have her here, I need to know a few things. “I realize this might sound rude, but how old are you, Teagan? And are you single?”

  She tilts her head, doubtfulness creeping into her eyes. “Twenty-seven. And I’m certain the other isn’t any of your business.”

  Young, but not too young. There’s a five-year age gap, but she seems rather intelligent, put together if I ignore the tear tracks dried on her cheeks. She at least didn’t completely fall apart and wasn’t a raging bitch when she rammed into me.

  And she’s single. Otherwise, she’d tell me she has some alpha-asshole boyfriend back at home waiting to kick my ass if I so much as touch her wrong. Although, the tight press of her lips and glare she shoots me when I ask the question is intriguing.

  Clearly, though, she’s not going to be some woman who falls at my feet and spills her secrets.

  Yes, Teagan Monroe is definitely piquing my interest.

  “Tell me about your day. You said it’s been bad? What happened?”

  Doubtfulness vanishes and is replaced with a blank expression. She fidgets with the silverware on the table before looking at me. Rolling back her shoulders, she says, “I’m not really sure that’s any of your business, either, Mr. Lane.”

  “Corbin,” I correct. “Please. Mr. Lane makes me think of my dad.” Giving her a dose of honesty I know she’s not expecting from me, I continue. “And considering I think he’s the largest asshole to walk the planet, I really don’t like either thinking of him or being compared to him.”

  As I expect, the comment startles her. I know how we appear in magazines and photos. The perfect, shining, and always smiling, do-good family in Oregon. If people knew what happened behind closed doors in our home, we’d lose all respect, which is why it’s an act of trust to tell her even that much.

  “Perhaps you should get to why we’re here.”

  Perhaps we should. I take another drink of my water, the ice doing nothing to chill the sudden rage at Eleanor’s death as it comes to mind. I force it down and lower my voice. “I don’t know if you heard, but my grandmother passed away last week and today was her funeral.”

  “I’m sorry,” Teagan says, and the way pain slashes across her features, she completely means it. “I have heard that, I just wasn’t thinking. But I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Using Eleanor’s advice for dishing out advice, I ignore the sympathetic statement I’ve heard way too much of late and rip the rest off like a Band-Aid. “This morning I sat through Eleanor’s will reading. It seems as if my lovely grandmother decided to play an epically horrible joke on me. In order to get what I want, she left instructions for me in her will. And this, I think, is where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Before I get to it, tell me about this epically bad day you’ve had and why you were crying. I’m assuming that’s why you ran into me?” Her fingers curl around the edge of the table like she’s about to bolt. Before she can, I reach out and cover her hand with mine, almost knocking over her glass of water in the process. With my other hand, I stabilize the glass. “Please. Trust me. But I’m about to offer you something that’s going to make you think I’m completely insane, plus I’ve told you about my dad. That’s not common knowledge and I’m trusting you to keep that private.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Here’s a hint. I’m about to offer you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I just need more information before I do so. Give me something in return.”

  Pretty brown eyes widen so quickly I think they might pop out of her head. “Two hundred—”

  “Yes. A quarter million dollars. At your disposal.”

  The waiter returns and after I test the wine, I gesture for him to fill our glasses, offering a thank-you when he’s done. I give Teagan a moment to allow her to consider what I’m about to offer.

  Indecision shows in her features and she reaches for her wine with a trembling hand. “I was fired from my job today, caught my boyfriend of seven years cheating on me, moved out of our apartment, and threw everything I own into the back of my car. I have no home, no job, and no idea what to do next that doesn’t involve moving back to Tennessee, so yeah”—she flips out her hand and blinks, but not before I see tears filling her eyes—“it’s been a shitty day so far. And I’m not sure what game you’re playing or what sort of joke this is, but if you could just get on with it so I can get back to freaking out, buy some wine, and drown my sorrows in the first sleazy hotel I can find until I figure out my next move, that’d be great.”

  Rambles when she’s nervous. I like her.

  Everything she’s saying means I have absolutely run into the perfect woman for me, semantics aside considering she slammed into me.

  By the time she’s done, her entire body is trembling, and before I can think, I’m out of my chair and sliding into one next to her, pulling her into my arms. I’m also not an idiot. The few customers who can see us pull out cameras and begin clicking away.

  Within hours they’ll be on Portland’s top gossip blogs.

  Which really works out perfectly for me.

  I slide my hand to the back of Teagan’s head, tucking her face into the crook of my shoulder while she shakes and cries.

  “It’s okay,” I mutter as she pulls back. “Just hold on.” I grab a cloth napkin from the table and hand it to her, whispering in her ear. “People are watching us, take all the time you need, wipe your face. Then I’ll share, okay?”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it, it’s just…this day.”

  “Yours has been shitty,” I agree. I also have some irrational urge to pummel the guy who cheated on her. Sure, maybe she nags him. Perhaps she bitches about clothes on the floor and doesn’t let up about a ring she’s probably expecting after seven years. Maybe she’s like the typical women I’ve met where nothing you do as a man is good enough, and somehow regardless of how hard you try, you can never live up to their constant changing expectations coupled with their increasing desire for more and more of your money.

  Except, as Teagan wipes her eyes while keeping her forehead pressed to my shoulder, something in my gut tells me I’m wrong.

  She’s also probably way too pure to be dragged into my world, but it’s too late for that.

  “Okay.” She huffs and pulls back, and as she does, I tighten my grip. I don’t know her, but I like her here. Her body is warm and soft. Reluctantly, I loosen my hold.

  This needs to stay business, intellectual and financial, not emotional.

  “What do you need my help for?”

  Scanning her face, I forget the plan. Forget the explanation. Forget the reasonings and all my poorly thought out ways to explain it to her so she doesn’t freak out.

  Now, her eyes more red from crying, the tip of her nose pink along with her cheeks, she’s essentially makeup free. And absolutely breathtaking.

  My hands slide to her cheeks down to her jaw, the sides of her neck. Soft. She smells good. A hint of sweetness mixed with cherries.

  My dick takes notice and hardens. I swallow the groan building in my throat.
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br />   “I want you to marry me.”

  Chapter 5

  Teagan

  “You’ve been given four weeks severance. I’m truly sorry.”

  Which is what my boss said to me this morning when I arrived at work, promptly as always, and proceeded to lay me off before I’d finished my first cup of coffee.

  “Honey, this isn’t what it looks like.”

  Which is what my boyfriend of seven years, now ex, said to me when I arrived at home, hours earlier than normal due to the firing, and I found him drilling into a busty blonde he had bent over our bed.

  “I want you to marry me.”

  Which is what Corbin Lane said to me less than an hour after I crashed into his car.

  Needless to say, I am floundering as we drive out to Cannon Bluffs, an hour and a half outside Portland. Corbin’s idea is completely insane, and yet it offers me the assurance that someday I will be able to follow my dream and finally afford the startup costs for my equine therapy farm. I try to tell myself that’s the only reason why I’ve agreed to this.

  What’s two more years when I’ve already given up so much? Perhaps I’m not thinking clearly after the day I’ve had. I woke up next to Drake, determined to get our love life back on track after months of neglect, only to end up moving in with another man, all within approximately eight hours.

  Yes, this is nuts. Quite possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made. At some point, I’m certain reality will crash into me and throw me into a tailspin, but I also can’t deny I’m intrigued by Corbin.

  Why is he choosing me? He has to know a hundred women willing to marry him at the snap of his fingers. For some reason, he’s gone with the unemployed, homeless, and recently cheated on with nothing to her name random girl who crashed into him on a downtown street.

  Yes, I’ve lost my mind. That has to explain why, when he suggested I pile everything from my car into his and ride out to his grandmother’s house with him for the weekend to try this out, I agreed.

  Married within six months. Another two years of forfeiting my dream. All for a marriage in name only. No sex. No strings. Just financial benefit and the ability to be seen on his arm. When I asked him why he doesn’t marry someone he already knows, he answered with a vague reply of rich women being too much work.