make her ring finger stand on its own. ‘We have to get to know each other. So we don’t get caught out on stuff we would be expected to know about each other if we were truly...committing to a life together.’
How different this fake relationship would be to a real relationship—getting to know each other over shared experiences, shared laughter, shared tears, long lazy mornings in bed...
Dominic sank down further into the sofa, his broad shoulders hunched inward. ‘Yup.’ It was more a grunt than a word.
‘You don’t sound keen to converse?’
‘What sort of things?’ he said with obvious reluctance. Not for the first time, she had a sense of secrets deeply held.
‘For one thing, I need to know more about your marriage and how it ended.’ And more about his time on the streets. And about that broken nose and scarred knuckles. And why he had let people believe he was a Scrooge when he so obviously wasn’t. Strictly speaking, she probably didn’t need to know all that about him for a fake engagement. Fact was, she wanted to know it.
‘I guess I can talk to you about my marriage,’ he said, still not sounding convinced. ‘But there are things about my life that I would rather remain private.’
What things? ‘Just so long as I’m not made a fool of at some stage down the track by not knowing something a real fiancée would have known.’
‘Fine,’ he grunted in a response that didn’t give her much confidence. She ached to know more about him. And yet there was that shadow she sensed. She wouldn’t push for simple curiosity’s sake.
‘As far as I’m concerned, my life’s pretty much an open book,’ she said, in an effort to encourage him to open up about his life—or past, to be more specific. ‘Just ask what you need to know about me and I’ll do my best to answer honestly.’
Was any person’s life truly an open book? Like anyone else, she had doubts and anxieties and dumb things she’d done that she’d regretted, but nothing lurked that she thought could hinder an engagement. No one would criticise her for finding love again after five years. In truth, she knew they would be glad for her. So would Anthony.
She remembered one day, lying together on the beach. ‘I would die if I lost you,’ she’d said to Anthony.
‘Don’t say that,’ he’d said. ‘If anything happened to me, I’d want you to find another guy. But why are we talking like this? We’re both going to live until we’re a hundred.’
‘Why not schedule in a question-and-answer session?’ Dominic said.
She pulled her thoughts back to the present. ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘Excellent idea, in fact.’
Dominic rolled his eyes in response.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You weren’t serious. I... I was.’
‘No, you’re right. I guess there’s no room for spontaneity in a fake engagement.’ It was a wonder he could get the words out when his tongue was so firmly in his cheek. ‘A question-and-answer session it is. At a time to be determined.’
‘Good idea,’ she said, feeling disconcerted. Was all this just a game to him?
‘Are there any more conditions to come?’ he asked. ‘You’re all out of fingers on one hand, by the way.’
‘There is one more very important condition to come—and may I remind you I do have ten fingers—but first I want to hear if there’s anything you want to add.’
She actually had two more conditions, but the final condition she could not share with him: that she could not fall for him. She couldn’t deal with the fallout in terms of pain if she were foolish enough to let down the guard on her heart.
* * *
Andie’s beautiful green eyes had sparkled with good humour in spite of the awkward position he had put her into. Coerced her into. But now her eyes seemed to dim and Dominic wondered if she was being completely honest about being an ‘open book’.
Ironically, he already knew more about Andie, the fake fiancée, than he’d known about Tara when he’d got engaged to her for real. His ex-wife had kept her true nature under wraps until well after she’d got the wedding band on her finger. What you see is what you get. He so wanted to believe that about Andie.
‘My condition? You have to wear a ring,’ he said. ‘I want to get you an engagement ring straight away. Today. Once Tara sees that she’ll know it’s serious. And the press will too. Not to mention a symbol for when we meet with Walter Burton.’
She shrugged. ‘Okay, you get me a ring.’
‘You don’t want to choose it yourself?’ He was taken aback. Tara had been so avaricious about jewellery.
‘No. I would find it...sad. Distressing. The day I choose my engagement ring is the day I get engaged for real. To me, the ring should be a symbol of a true commitment, not a...a prop for a charade. But I agree—I should wear one as a visible sign of commitment.’
‘I’ll organise it then,’ he said. He had no idea why he should be disappointed at her lack of enthusiasm. She was absolutely right—the ring would be a prop. But it would also play a role in keeping it believable. ‘What size ring do you wear?’
‘I haven’t a clue,’ she said. She held up her right hand to show the collection of tiny fine silver rings on her slender fingers. Her nails were painted cream today. ‘I bought these at a market and just tried them on until I found rings that fitted.’ She slid off the ring from the third finger of her right hand. ‘This should do the trick.’ She handed it to him. It was still warm with her body heat and he held it on his palm for a moment before pocketing it.
‘What style of engagement ring would you like?’ he asked.
Again she shrugged. ‘You choose. It’s honestly not important to me.’
A hefty carat solitaire diamond would be appropriate—one that would give her a good resale value when she went to sell it after this was all over.
‘Did you choose your ex-wife’s engagement ring?’ Andie asked.
He scowled at the reminder that he had once got engaged for real.
Andie pulled one of her endearing faces. ‘Sorry. I guess that’s a sensitive issue. I know we’ll come to all that in our question-and-answer session. I’m just curious.’
‘She chose it herself. All I had to do was pay for it.’ That alone should have alerted him to what the marriage was all about—giving her access to his money and the lifestyle it bought.
‘That wasn’t very...romantic,’ Andie said.
‘There was nothing romantic about my marriage. Shall I tell you about it now and get all that out of the way?’
‘If you feel comfortable with it,’ she said.
‘Comfortable is never a word I would relate to that time of my life,’ he said. ‘It was a series of mistakes.’
‘If you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to listen.’ He thought about how Andie had read his mood so accurately earlier this morning—giving him breakfast when he hadn’t even been aware himself that he was hungry. She was thoughtful. And kind. Kindness wasn’t an attribute he had much encountered in the women he had met.
‘The first mistake I made with Tara was that she reminded me of someone else—a girl I’d met when I was living in the squat. Someone frail and sweet with similar colouring—someone I’d wanted to care for and look after.’ It still hurt to think of Melody. Andie didn’t need to know about her.
‘And the second mistake?’ Andie asked, seeming to understand he didn’t want to speak further about Melody. She leaned forward as if she didn’t want to miss a word.
‘I