Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Taylor slipped the key into the lock and turned to Nick. “The evening wasn’t as bad as?—”
“Before you stroke my ego with more kind words—” Nick’s fingers glided sensuously up her arm, igniting an unexpected warmth beneath her skin “—I think it would be a good idea to seal this engagement with a kiss.”
Her pulse jumped.
She tilted her head, feigning nonchalance. “And why would you think that?”
“We need the practice.” His voice was smooth, laced with teasing—but there was something else beneath it. Something that sent a ripple of heat through her veins. “And in case someone’s watching.”
Taylor laughed, flicking a glance toward the old oak tree in the front yard. “Wave to Grandpa Bill.”
Nick didn’t even glance away. His hand found hers, warm and firm, holding her still.
The laughter died in her throat.
Her instinct was to pull away—but his grip tightened. Not demanding. Not forceful. Just enough to make her forget why she should resist.
“Okay, maybe he’s not there tonight—” his lips brushed against her hair, his fingers tracing the line of her cheek “—but we still need the practice.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
His touch was light but deliberate, like he was giving her time to pull away. But she didn’t.
Her heart pounded beneath the soft fabric of her dress.
His jaw relaxed, and his lips hovered a breath from hers—a moment suspended between hesitation and inevitability.
Then, he kissed her.
A gentle brush at first, as if testing the waters, then deeper, surer. His lips moved over hers with a warmth that sent heat rippling through her body, melting whatever protests had remained.
Before she could stop herself, her arms lifted, wrapping around his neck.
Nick exhaled, pulling her closer.
Her heart thundered, each second stretching into something dangerous.
Something real.
The moment fractured when she pulled back, breathless.
Nick searched her eyes, his own filled with something undeniable.
“Wow.” He raised a brow, a slow, lazy smile playing at his lips. “That was some dress rehearsal.”
Taylor’s cheeks flushed as she stepped back, shaking her head.
“I think we’ve practiced enough for one evening.”
Nick reached for her again, but she quickly sidestepped him.
“Practice makes perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, coaxing. His heated gaze roamed her face, searching. “Are you sure?”
Of course she wasn’t sure.
But she was sensible. Responsible.
“Positive.”
Nick sighed dramatically. “Just one more for the road?”
She folded her arms, biting back a smile. “Not tonight.”
“But since we’re engaged, I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities.”
Nick’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across his face.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny velvet box, pushing it into her hand.
“Here. You’ll need this.”
Taylor froze.
The air seemed thicker, the weight of the small box pressing far heavier than it should.
Her heart twisted.
She had dreamed of receiving an engagement ring since she was a little girl. But never like this. Never as a business arrangement.
Nick arched a brow. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
Her fingers trembled as she snapped the box open.
She gasped.
The large, emerald-cut diamond in an antique setting caught the light, casting a prism of colors against her skin.
At least five carats.
“Nick, this is—” she swallowed hard, suddenly struggling for words. “This is way too much. I can’t accept this.”
“Sure you can.” His tone was casual, but there was something softer in his eyes as he lifted the ring from its velvet nest and slipped it onto her finger.
“It was my grandmother’s. Just remember, I want it back when we break up.”
Taylor blinked.
Of course. A beautiful loaned ring for their temporary engagement.
Her lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. “Gee, thanks, Romeo.”
Nick ignored her sarcasm, instead catching her hand and lifting it toward the porch light.
The diamond gleamed, its brilliance mocking her.
“It looks good on you, Juliet.” His voice was lower now, quieter. “I guess it’s official. We’re engaged.”
Taylor’s heart tightened.
“Temporarily,” she murmured.
Nick didn’t react.
The gem flashed, catching the glow from the porch light, casting a dance of colors across her skin.
A beautiful prop.
A precious lie.
A ring meant to symbolize love and commitment—but here, nothing more than a well-crafted deception.
Her stomach twisted.
Was this really the road she was meant to travel?
Nick’s voice cut through the silence.
“What are you thinking?”
Taylor forced herself to push away the doubt.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze.
“I’m thinking,” she said lightly, twisting the ring around her finger, “I can hardly wait to see what happens in Act Two.”
* * *
Nick leaned back in his leather chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, his piercing gaze fixed on her. Unapologetic. Unbothered. Completely Nick.
“Mind telling me what’s so important that I had to leave a meeting that took me two weeks to arrange?” His voice held that maddening, smooth confidence. “The way you’re acting, I can’t imagine it’s because you missed me.”
Taylor’s blood simmered.
Three days. Three days.
No calls. No texts. No contact at all.
Three days of dodging her grandparents’ questions. Three days of feeling like a fool for trusting that he would at least make this charade look believable.
“The way I’m acting?” Her tone was sharp, her nails digging into her palm. “How do you think I’d act if the man I just introduced as my fiancé vanished off the face of the earth? No texts, no calls?—”
“I was out of town.”
“I don’t care if you were in China.” Taylor’s frustration boiled over. Only death would have been a valid excuse for ignoring her messages.
Nick exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was busy.”
“Busy?” she repeated, voice thick with sarcasm. She marched to his desk, grabbed his sleek black phone, and shoved it into his hand. “How many seconds out of your oh-so-packed schedule would it have taken to text? Five? Three?”
His lips quirked.
“Don’t you dare smile at me, mister.” She jabbed a finger toward his chest, refusing to be charmed or distracted. “What was I supposed to say when my grandparents kept asking about you? That I couldn’t bring you over because I had no idea where you were? That you wouldn’t return my calls? I wish I had a quarter for every time your admin told me you were ‘unavailable.’”
Nick’s amusement vanished. His jaw tightened as he set his phone down with deliberate control. “That’s her standard response to callers.”
“Even to your fiancée?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. His gaze flickered—guilt?—before he gave a small shrug. “I must have forgotten to mention?—”
Taylor’s fists clenched.
“Nick Lanagan, if I had a rope, you would be swinging from the chandelier in the lobby right now.”
“What a romantic picture.”
The sultry voice from the doorway sent a chill down Taylor’s spine.
She turned, instinctively on guard.
The woman leaned against the doorframe as if she owned the room. Dressed in an impeccable white linen sheath that emphasized a deep, sun-kissed tan, she exuded effortless confidence. A cinched alligator belt highlighted her slender waist, and long, dark waves cascaded over her bare shoulders like silk.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Though I must admit,” she continued, “ropes don’t really do much for me.” She trailed a manicured nail along the doorframe, her cherry-red nails flashing in the light. “I’ve always been partial to satin sheets and champagne.”
Taylor froze.
So this was Claire Waters.
Nick’s ex. The woman Taylor had unknowingly stepped in front of.
A barracuda.
Taylor had met her type before—political predators who viewed men as conquests, whether they were married, engaged, or just breathing.
Claire’s dark eyes glittered, sharp and assessing.
Nick exhaled, standing and stepping to Taylor’s side.
“Claire,” he said smoothly, his tone unreadable. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Taylor Rollins.”
He rested a hand on the small of Taylor’s back—a subtle claim.
Taylor tipped her head, letting a careful, polished smile grace her lips.
You’re not the only one who knows how to play games, sweetheart.
Claire crossed the room, hips swinging in an exaggerated sway. She stopped a few feet away, looking Taylor over with slow, deliberate calculation.
Sizing her up.
“Do I detect trouble in paradise?”
Nick laughed, and before Taylor could react, his arm slipped around her shoulders.
“Just a little quarrel,” he murmured, his voice teasing, his touch too practiced. “In fact, if you hadn’t interrupted, we’d already be at the kissing and making-up stage.”
Claire’s smirk deepened.
“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” She waved a hand, dismissive, her red nails slicing through the air like tiny weapons.
Nick hesitated for the briefest moment.
Then he turned, curling a finger under Taylor’s chin, tilting her face toward his.
His eyes softened.
“I’m sorry I was so inconsiderate,” he murmured. “Will you forgive me?”
Taylor’s breath caught.
Was this for Claire’s benefit? Or was there real regret there?
With Claire watching their every move, she had no way of knowing.
She forced herself to nod.
“Yes. I’ll forgive you.”
Nick didn’t hesitate.
He lowered his head, and before she could prepare, his lips met hers.
A slow, deliberate kiss—not rushed, not hesitant.
And despite everything, she melted.
For a second, she forgot about Claire. About the game.
It felt real.
Then, as quickly as it began, she pulled back, warmth creeping up her neck.
“Nick, not here. We have an audience.”
Taylor turned just in time to see Claire’s gaze narrow.
The other woman’s eyes flickered to the impressive diamond on Taylor’s left hand.
Taylor curled her fingers around Nick’s arm, angling the ring into the light, letting her see it.
Claire’s eyes widened.
Satisfaction curled through Taylor’s stomach.
Nick’s lips tipped upward in amusement, clearly catching her intention.
Claire’s attention flickered back to Nick, her smile returning, smooth as silk.
“Well.” She sighed dramatically. “Daddy and I have decided to throw you an engagement party.”
Taylor stiffened.
Claire’s eyes gleamed with mischief.
“Assuming, of course, you two will still be together then.”
Nick chuckled, his arm tightening around Taylor’s waist.
“Don’t worry about that, Claire.” His voice was all confidence, all certainty. “This is the woman for me.”
For one fraction of a second, Claire’s face stiffened.
Then, just as quickly, she recovered, flashing a sly smile.
“If you’re happy,” she purred, “I’m happy.”
Taylor smiled sweetly.
Game on .
Claire reached into her designer handbag, pulling out a sleek leather notepad and a gold-tipped pen. Her movements were deliberate, almost lazy, but there was a gleam of anticipation in her dark eyes.
“I’ll need your mother’s current address so I can send her an invitation.”
Nick didn’t even hesitate. “Don’t waste your stamp.”
He rounded his desk, hit the do-not-disturb button on his phone, and turned back to Claire with a look that could have frozen steel.
Claire simply smiled—all glossy confidence and silk-lined condescension.
“Now, Nick, I’m sure Sylvia would love your fiancée and would be crushed if she didn’t have the opportunity to toast your engagement.”
Nick’s expression didn’t change, but Taylor felt the shift in the room.
Claire didn’t stop there.
“In fact,” Claire continued, tucking a strand of raven-dark hair behind one ear, “Daddy told me the cutest story yesterday, and I said, ‘Well, it sounds like Nick got himself a woman just like his mother!’”
Taylor stiffened.
Claire turned to her, the picture of innocence, her lips pouty, her lashes lowering in faux sweetness. “You don’t mind if I tell it, do you?”
Taylor’s spine snapped straight. “I’m not sure what story you’re referring to.”
Claire sighed dreamily, as if reminiscing. “It’s the one where you visited your grandparents for the summer and refused to wear the same outfit twice.”
Nick visibly tensed.
Claire shot him a sideways glance before pressing on, savoring every second.
“Daddy said you maxed out your grandfather’s credit card and threw a fit at the mall when he told you no more shopping. It was the talk of Cedar Ridge for months.” She let the words settle, then gave a faux-apologetic smile. “Sounds like your mother, doesn’t it, Nick?”
Taylor’s heart pounded.
It was an old memory, one she’d long buried—the summer her mother had died. The anger. The grief. The rebellion. Her father had vanished into his campaign, leaving her behind. She’d acted out, pushing the only people who had tried to love her.
She swallowed hard. “I’m surprised your father remembers. That was a long time ago. I was barely sixteen.”
Claire’s smile stayed in place. “Ah, but those are our formative years, aren’t they?”
Taylor opened her mouth, but Claire didn’t give her the chance.
“I guess I always thought Nick was looking for a different kind of woman.”
Silence stretched.
Nick’s expression became impenetrable, his features hardening in a way that set Taylor on edge.
He wasn’t defending her.
He wasn’t saying anything.
Taylor’s temper flared.
“He was,” she said coolly. “Me.”
Claire blinked.
For the briefest moment, something flickered across her face—annoyance, maybe even surprise—before she smoothed it away, lowering her lashes like a curtain drawn between them.
“Of course,” she murmured, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
She gracefully stood, brushing invisible lint off her dress. “Well, I need to scoot.” Her gaze shifted back to Nick, as if Taylor wasn’t even in the room.
“Nick, I’ll give you a call this week. We’ll do lunch.”
Nick leaned against his desk, arms crossing over his broad chest. “I’m not sure I can make it. But maybe you and Taylor can get together.”
Claire’s smile faltered—just slightly.
“Sure.” The single word was tight, her eyes flashing, but she didn’t let her mask slip for long. She grabbed her bag and stepped toward the door. “Daddy and I are meeting at eleven, and he’ll have my head if I keep him waiting.”
As soon as the door clicked shut, Taylor exhaled.
Nick rubbed his jaw, his gaze locked on the closed door.
“I don’t think she bought it,” he muttered.
“What gave it away?” Taylor shot back.
“She was way too nice.”
Taylor’s brows shot up. “That was nice?”
Nick shook his head. “I wish I were kidding.”
“Charming,” Taylor muttered. “That wasn’t quite the word I’d use.”
“We all make mistakes.” Nick’s voice dropped, quieter now. Regret laced his tone. “Claire was one of mine. A big one.”
Taylor hesitated, watching him.
She wasn’t sure why, but his seriousness unsettled her.
“You know she’s still interested, right? Engagement or no engagement. She practically threw herself at you.”
“I expected as much.” He lifted his gaze to hers, studying her.
It unnerved her.
“That’s why you’re here,” he said. “To run interference. So I can actually get some work done.”
Taylor sighed. Right. The arrangement.
“But,” he added, his mouth tipping into a devilish grin, “you’re going to have to loosen up. Otherwise, she’ll never believe this engagement is real.”
“I’m doing the best I can?—”
He shrugged. “I’m not saying you don’t show promise. The kiss was pretty good.”
Taylor’s stomach flipped.
He grinned, devastatingly confident, his dimples deepening. “With a little practice, I think we could really nail it. And since we don’t have an audience now…”
He stepped forward, eyes locked onto hers.
She should have stopped him.
She wanted to stop him.
But her heart pounded too fast, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
And she really, really liked those dimples.
Then, as if a switch flipped, reality crashed back.
She took a quick step back, tilting her chin defiantly.
“Since we don’t have an audience,” she said, clearing her throat, “we need to talk about you meeting my grandparents.”
His smile vanished.
“Tonight,” she added.
Nick exhaled sharply, walking around to his desk and pulling up his calendar on the screen. His gaze flickered downward before he shook his head.
“Tonight’s not good for me. I’ve?—”
“Tonight.” Taylor crossed her arms. “I’m not putting them off any longer. Pick me up at seven.”
His lips tightened. His eyes darkened.
For a long moment, she thought he might refuse.
Then—snap.
He closed the calendar with an irritated click.
“Seven it is.”
She ignored his scowl.
“Nick?” she called sweetly.
He glanced up, clearly still annoyed. “What?”
“Don’t forget to tell Miss Dietrich that I’m your fiancée and she’s to put me through when I call.”
She smiled, syrupy sweet, but her gaze was sharp. Direct. Unwavering.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Something that looked a lot like respect.
“Consider her told.”
Taylor didn’t wait for another word.
She turned, closing the door behind her, stepping back into the bustling world of Lanagan Associates.
With a little more effort, this business arrangement could work.
At the end of summer, she’d have her money. He’d have his merger.
They’d part ways, and no one would be the wiser.
No one would get hurt.
It sounded reasonable.
So why did she have the sinking feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple?