The Billionaire's Convenient Bride (Billionaire Cowboys Book 3) Page 7

“Be good for your grandma tonight, you hear?” Marianne said, her tone mock-stern.

  “I’m always good for grandma,” Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

  “That’s because grandma hides treats in her bag,” Marianne said.

  Elaine pressed a hand to her heart, as though she were wounded.

  “How would you know?” she asked.

  Marianne laughed.

  “Because I used to steal them when I was her age,” she said, nodding to Zoe.

  Realizing that she was stalling, she waved one final farewell as she opened the apartment door.

  “Bye, you two!”

  Zoe and Elaine waved, and Marianne closed the door and headed down the stairs, careful not to trip in her heels. When she opened the front door, the driver had the car door open for her already.

  “Thank you so much,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Of course,” he said.

  She ducked her head and slid onto the smooth leather seat of the car. Jay was beside her, his cologne subtle but intensely intoxicating. His eyes had that way of seeing right through to the very heart of her, and she fought back the urge to brush her hair behind her ear…one of her nervous tells, she knew.

  “Hello,” she breathed.

  “Good evening. Thank you for coming out with me,” he said.

  He continued to stare at her until she broke eye contact and glanced out the window. The driver had taken his seat and pulled away from her apartment, leaving the two of them alone and in very close quarters. She could feel the pressure of his leg against hers, and the more she tried not to think about it, the more aware of it she became.

  Get it together, Marianne!

  “Did you have a nice week?” he asked, making small talk.

  “It was busy, but that made the time pass quicker.”

  “Do you always look forward to the weekend?” he asked.

  What a strange question. She turned and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

  “Is that a trick question? Doesn’t everyone look forward to the weekend?” she asked.

  He shrugged, and the muscles beneath his crisp button-down shirt brushed against the side of her bare arm, sending a shiver of awareness all through her.

  “I don’t. I find the work week to be much more preferable.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I have less time to think.”

  She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she turned and gazed out the window as they drove through the center of town, passing their work building and the park.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come up to get you personally,” he said, breaking the silence.

  Marianne considered that, and then gave a shrug of her own.

  “This isn’t a real relationship. That’s certainly not a deal breaker, right? Were you a true suitor, I certainly would have expected you to come to the door yourself, possibly with flowers,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You like flowers? What kind in particular?”

  “You don’t need to get me flowers. This isn’t a real romance,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Yes, I am fully aware of that, believe me. However, since this needs to be a believable ruse, I’m going to need to know some things about you. Your favorite flowers would certainly be something a lover would know.”

  She flushed at the word “lover.” She couldn’t even say she liked Jay Parish, much less have the capacity to love him. What an idea.

  “Sunflowers,” she said.

  “Why?” he pressed.

  She considered that for a moment.

  “I think they’re sunshine in a flower, much as the name suggests. It’s as though I’m receiving a bouquet of little suns to brighten up my life.”

  It sounded so childish, like something Zoe would say. She glanced over at Jay, fully expecting some kind of sardonic smile, but his expression was unreadable as he nodded.

  “That makes sense,” he said.

  Surely, he was just being nice. Also, why on earth were they discussing flowers? If they were going to fake a marriage, surely there would be more important things they needed to discuss. Big ticket items that made or broke relationships every day.

  Marianne couldn’t think of how to even begin one of those conversations. After all, this was the very first date. Surely, they could start out light and go from there?

  The car pulled up to a curb and stopped. When Marianne looked out, her eyes widened.

  “The Rooftop Mill!” she gasped.

  It was by far the most expensive restaurant in the entire city. No one she knew had ever had a chance to eat there, as the waitlist was usually months long. When she looked back at Jay, his lip twitched into the smallest hint of a smile.

  “You’ve heard of it?” he asked.

  Of course, this would be nothing to him. Jay Parish had the world at his fingertips, and he played puppeteer with everything and everyone. Marianne frowned.

  “Of course, I’ve heard of it. You foresaw that this would happen long ago, did you? I’ve heard you can’t get a reservation here unless you book half a year in advance.”

  He seemed to sense her ire, because he leaned in and nearly pressed his lips against her ear. She shivered.

  “They keep a table reserved for me every night, just in case I fancy popping in. This is the life you’ll be living from now on, Marianne. Enjoy it.”

  He leaned back as the driver pulled open the door and held out a hand to help her out. Disoriented, Marianne thrust her hand out, anxious to put some space between herself and the alluring, handsome billionaire that she was supposed to hate.

  Why did her body have to react to him so strongly?

  Jay stepped out behind her and nodded to the driver.

  “Send me a message when you’re done, sir, and I’ll be at the curb,” the driver said.

  “Perfect. Thank you,” Jay replied.

  He turned to Marianne, who was still working very hard to keep her wits about her. Was he always that tall? He towered above her, strong and confident and secure, and yet the small bags beneath his eyes revealed something deeper underneath.

  Jay Parish really wasn’t sleeping. Marianne had a burning curiosity to know why. He’d alluded to it, of course, but what was it that he thought about? What was torturing him so deeply?

  “Please, after you,” he said, stepping to the door and opening it for her.

  “No flowers, but door service. Do you usually pick and choose when you will be a gentleman?” she asked, baiting him.

  She needed to keep her walls up. She needed to remember just who this man was and what he represented. She needed to remember her mother.

  It just got harder every time she inhaled, and the scent of him filled her entire world.

  “I believe you said you had a daughter, right? The one that would be kept out of this arrangement?”

  The question took her by surprise. She blinked.

  “Well, yes,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “And me coming to the door and being seen by her…would that have been a pretty big breach of that part of our verbal contract?” he asked.

  Marianne imagined Jay at her door. Her mother might have thrown a vase at him. Then what would Zoe have thought?

  “So, you did that to remain unseen from her,” Marianne said.

  “I did. In other circumstances, I promise you that I would not leave a date to come down and find me on her own. I do have some standards.”

  Marianne’s reserve softened a bit as she considered his thoughtful approach to the situation. Perhaps he was a more considerate person than she thought.

  Perhaps.

  “I’d love to keep chatting about this in the lobby, but I assure you that the restaurant is a much better place to talk. They have food and wine there, and everything,” he said in a lighter tone.

  “And here I thought we were here just to make an appearance,” she jo
ked back.

  Jay walked over to a pair of elevators and pressed the button to go up. When he turned and grinned at her, Marianne’s stomach did a flip-flop.

  “Well, we are here to do that, too.”

  The elevator doors opened up with a ding, and Jay ushered Marianne inside as he pressed the button to the top floor. As they rode upward, Marianne glanced at all the other buttons.

  “What do you suppose those are for?” she asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone came here except to dine at the top.”

  The elevator jolted to a stop, and Marianne placed a bracing hand on Jay’s arm, not wanting to wobble in her heels and look a fool. He rested his hand on hers, and an electric shock went between them. She gazed up at him in wonder, then pulled her hand away.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  To her surprise, he reached down and gently clasped her hand in his, then rested it back on his arm as the elevator doors opened.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It’s time to put on our show.”

  Chapter 9

  Marianne

  All Marianne could see at first was the sky. A tapestry of creamy color, a rosy glow was cast by the ocean of oranges, pinks and delicate yellows above them. She gripped Jay’s hand a little tighter, and then loosened her grip.

  She glanced up at Jay to find him looking down at her with those stunning blue eyes of his, and he squeezed her hand in support.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  She glanced around. The entire rooftop was an open-air first-class dining room. The tables and chairs were black with crisp white table clothes adorning each set. There were mini bonfires placed strategically, so that as the evening cooled, the temperature on the rooftop remained perfectly comfortable.

  Marianne had seen nothing like it in her entire life.

  “Yes,” she breathed, grinning up at him sheepishly.

  To her surprise, his face relaxed into a mask of relief. Did he really want to impress her? Up until that moment, she was convinced that all of this was for show, but that little tell of his made her think differently.

  Curious.

  “Mr. Parish, welcome back!”

  A young man standing behind a host table beamed at Jay as he guided Marianne in that direction. The host pulled out two menus and nodded politely at Marianne before he turned and headed toward a far corner of the rooftop. There was a black velvet rope separating a spacious table in the absolute corner of the place, and the host deftly removed it, stepping aside so that Jay and Marianne could enter.

  “It’s always a pleasure to have you with us, sir,” the host said.

  He held out the chair for Marianne to sit, which she did, doing her absolute best not to look as out of place as she felt.

  “Thanks, Chad,” Jay said, nodding and holding up a hand with what appeared to be a hundred dollar bill between his fingers.

  Chad reached out and covertly snagged the cash, then beamed at them once again.

  “Have a lovely evening,” he said.

  Marianne realized then why Chad was so happy to see Jay. What a payout!

  Before she could make a comment, a server arrived in black pressed pants and a crisp white shirt.

  “Mr. Parish. We’re always happy to see you!” she said.

  Jay nodded once again, though Marianne noticed that his expression was slightly annoyed.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Do you like red wine, Marianne?”

  Marianne nodded. She imagined whatever kind of wine he got would be better than the ten-dollar bottles she usually selected, when she had the money for such a thing.

  “A bottle of your best Merlot, please, and perhaps some oysters for an appetizer.”

  “Yes, sir,” the server said.

  She opened the velvet rope and stepped out, disappearing into a rooftop kitchen that somehow managed to be understated, in spite of the fact that it was in plain sight.

  “You don’t like this,” Marianne noted.

  Jay’s eyebrow lifted as he considered her, and her heart did a little flip. She fought against the feeling, wanting to know more about him, in spite of herself.

  “Don’t like what?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Something about the way they talk to you. You don’t like it.”

  He considered her words for a moment, then sat back in his chair and gazed out at the glorious sunset all around them.

  “I don’t like the formalities of my life. Sometimes, I just wish…”

  When he didn’t finish the statement, Marianne took a wild guess.

  “That you could be normal?” she asked.

  His eyes narrowed as he considered that, then he looked back at her, and she cleared her throat, which had gone suspiciously dry all of a sudden. She lifted a crystal glass and swallowed some cool, cucumber infused water.

  Was cucumber water a classic rich person thing, or was that just this place?

  “Yes…and no,” he said. “I am content with my life, to a certain extent. When I was in college, I got the chance to experience a sense of community…of normalcy, as you would call it. I don’t like being referred to as Mr. Parish all the time. I don’t like the look of fear or trepidation people have every time they see me.”

  “You think people are afraid of you?” she asked.

  He leaned in and rested his elbows on the table as he held her gaze.

  “I might remind you that when you came into my office the other day, you could barely get your words out.”

  Marianne sat back and crossed her arms.

  “Yes, well. I had a very important thing to ask, and…” she faltered, considering what to say next. “And you’re a little intimidating.”

  “How so?” he asked, and it was clear no one had ever given him a clear answer on this point.

  Marianne shrugged. She had a lot to lose by angering the man, but her mother raised her to be honest. There was a way to tell the truth without being hurtful, and Marianne was pretty good at finding ways to do just that.

  “Well, you tower above everyone around you, first of all,” she said, “And second, you tend to glower.”

  He scowled.

  “I do not glower,” he said.

  She couldn’t help it. Marianne laughed.

  “You’re doing it right now!” she said.

  His gaze grew thoughtful, and then, to her delight, the smallest hint of a smile toyed with the corner of his lips.

  Those kissable, kissable lips.

  Nope. Not going there.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Now, how about you? How do you want to be seen by the world?”

  Marianne considered that as the server arrived with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a plate of freshly shucked oysters. She waited until the woman poured them each a glass, they had a chance to order their main courses, and then the server once again disappeared, leaving them to their own devices.

  “I don’t know,” she said, picking up from where they left off.

  He considered her over the rim of his glass as he sipped his wine, then set it back on the table.

  “You don’t know?” he asked. “If you could find one word to define yourself, what would it be?”

  She considered that, then shook her head.

  “Why would anyone want to be put into so small a box? I am many things. Mother. Daughter. Friend. All of them come together to form the person I am and the person that I want to be.”

  “So, you’re content with your life as it is?” he asked.

  “Is this a job interview?” she asked.

  She couldn’t pinpoint why his questions made her uncomfortable. Perhaps because they were questions she never knew how to answer, even if she wanted to. Picking up on her ennui, he sat back and put his palms in the air.

  “No, you’re right. I have a tendency to get too intense about these kinds of things. Let’s start simple, since I need to get to know you, and vice versa. You know, until you called the other night, I had no
idea that you had a daughter.”

  Until I came into your office the other day, you had no idea I existed at all. And now, I’ll be your wife…

  Marianne took a gulp of wine.

  “Yes. Zoe is my everything,” she said.

  “I haven’t heard you mention her father,” he hedged.

  Marianne shrugged, very used to the question.

  “That’s because while she is my everything, he is nothing. The second he found out I was pregnant, he ran as fast as his cowardly legs could take him. We’ve never seen the man since.”

  Jay’s eyebrows narrowed in concern.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She shrugged.

  “It is what it is. I’m doing the best I can to raise her to be a self-reliant woman on her own, just like my mother did for me.”

  “What if she wants someone to rely on someday?” he asked.

  She scoffed. “What, like a man? A partner?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s all well and good, but she needs to know that trust is something that should be earned, and there is no reason to trust anyone more than yourself. No one’s coming to the rescue on some white horse. She has to learn that the only person she can truly rely on is herself.”

  Even as she said it, Marianne was very aware of how much she was projecting. Was that really the lesson she wanted Zoe to walk away with in this life? She shook off the thought and gave Jay a hard stare.

  “That is why it’s so important to me that she hears nothing about this situation until it becomes absolutely necessary. I don’t want a situation where she believes any of this is real,” she said, gesturing between the two of them.

  Jay’s expression was somber as he considered her words.

  “Marianne, you have my word that your daughter’s happiness and wellbeing will come first. I promise you that.”

  Marianne released a breath, not used to having such intense conversations with men, particularly not on a first date. Somehow, things were different with Jay. She was growing more relaxed. It was probably the wine, but between his handsome face and his ability to even have a meaningful conversation, Marianne was distantly aware that she was dealing with a dangerous combination.