Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone Read online

  Their one-and-done child. Their “holy shit we didn’t think this parenting thing through” child. The child they left to be raised by the nanny and later sent to boarding school. Which frankly was better than if I had been left fully to their influence. Mom’s idea of affection was taking Xanax together. Dad’s was gleefully beating me at golf. When I was six.

  Now I was thirty and running the entire real estate development branch after devoting my twenties to proving my worth.

  I worked my ass off. I got what I wanted. That’s the Caldwell way.

  Getting what you wanted, anyway. Working your ass off had skipped a generation.

  The other waitress slapped a glass filled with ice down onto the counter and grabbed one of her orders out from under the warmer. I frowned at the glass. How was I supposed to use that to ice her ankle? I meant bring it in a towel or something. The diner used small paper napkins so those would be of no use with a glass of ice cubes.

  “I think she missed the point,” I told Leah. “I wasn’t suggesting ice for a cocktail.”

  “I could use a cocktail, to be honest,” she said. “But yeah, that’s Theresa. I’m surprised she brought it at all.”

  Improvising, I loosened my tie and pulled it off over my head. I eased off her shoe and her sock.

  “What are you doing?” Leah’s eyes went wide.

  “Making do.” I looped the tie around her foot and tightened it, leaving it just slightly slack. Then I eased cubes of ice between her swollen flesh and the tie all the way around. I put her sock back on as carefully as I could and tucked the tie into the top of it. “There.”

  Not bad for an amateur. I looked up from my handiwork to see she was staring at me, looking taken aback.

  “What?” Maybe I shouldn’t have taken her shoe and sock off for her. Or touched her. But it was a minor medical crisis, what the hell was I supposed to do? Her co-workers weren’t exactly jumping on the situation.

  She shook her head and reached up to tighten her ponytail. “Nothing, other than that was just the hottest thing in the entire universe.”

  Damn.

  Maybe I’d been wrong about Leah’s flirting.

  Her voice was amused, but tinged with a bit of awe, and I was very aware of the fact that I was hunched down between her legs. Thank God for the excessive fabric of her poodle skirt because all of my previous fantasies sprung back to life. I could just ease that skirt up and skim my hands over her naked thighs and…

  I got nailed in the head by a giant handbag. Stunned, I shook my head to clear it.

  “Jesus, I’m so sorry!”

  The woman’s handbag was the size of Texas and without question had to contain bricks because it was like taking a boxing bag to the temple.

  “No problem,” I said, rising to my feet slowly and straightening my suit jacket. I wasn’t about to admit it hurt like a motherfucker. Leah had been taken out by a cab. I could handle a Midwestern woman’s purse.

  Given the thoughts I’d been having, it was a timely interruption.

  Leah pursed her lips. “Grant, are you sure you’re okay?”

  Drowning in lust, but otherwise okay. “Worry about you, not me. Let’s get you home.”

  “My manager didn’t say I could go.”

  “You’re leaving.” She wasn’t working on a sprained ankle because she’d been chasing me down. Hell no.

  I found the manager at the host stand and repeated that Leah needed to leave. “If not, I’m going to strongly advise to her that she file worker’s compensation.”

  “She ran into the street, that’s not my problem!” He looked put out.

  “I forgot something on the counter, so it is your problem. She was acting in her capacity as waitress, tending to a customer. Besides, look at her ankle. It’s already double the normal size. Would you be able to wait tables like that?”

  “Well…” The look he gave indicated he was considering that question and concluding his answer would be no. Exactly.

  I pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “She’ll need the next three days off unless the doctor orders more. Call me or my attorney if you have any questions.”

  He stared at me for a second than just said, “Fine, whatever. Get her out of here.”

  When I helped her off the stool and to the door, she waved at her manager. “It was an accident, Lou, I swear! I’ll get someone to cover my next few shifts. You’re the best!” She blew him a kiss.

  He grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. Get better soon, kid.”

  When we got to the sidewalk, I pulled out my phone. She was leaning heavily on me as she limped so I wrapped my arm around her.

  “You’re kind of heavy-handed, Grant. You know that, right?” She didn’t look annoyed. More amused.

  “I prefer to call it taking charge in a crisis.”

  Leah gave a small burst of laughter. “And I do appreciate it. I would be the idiot who would insist I was fine and walk around on a busted ankle all day. I’m my own worst enemy.”

  The look she was giving me went straight to my cock. Her words floated through my head again—“the hottest thing ever.” I thought about all the times she had teased me with sexual innuendos over the last few months and how many times I had struggled to resist the urge to wine, dine, and fuck her.

  There was something about her sly little smile, her makeup-free complexion, and her innocent-looking uniform. It was a sexy-as-sin juxtaposition that made me incapable of rational thought around her. She was doing it now. Smiling at me, the tip of her tongue sliding over her plump bottom lip. Despite a swollen and presumably painful ankle, she was flirting with me.

  “I’m happy to save you from yourself,” I said, voice low, tight. “I’m calling my driver.”

  “You have a driver?”

  I nodded. I didn’t use him every day but always on mornings when I had a meeting. He waited around the corner from the restaurant to get me there on time.

  “Grant is fancy,” she said with a small smirk.

  “I’m practical,” I told her, mildly annoyed she seemed to be making fun of me. “You know traffic sucks.” After a quick text to Andre, I tucked my phone back into my jacket pocket. “Where should I take you—the hospital?”

  She shook her head. “My place. It’s just a sprain. But I can take the train if you have somewhere to be.”

  “Don’t be stubborn. You can’t walk down the stairs to the station.”

  I was also being stubborn and I was not backing down. I was not going to be the dick who left her hobbling to the train. If she didn’t want me in the car with her, she could be driven there by Andre. I had a thought. “Did you have a purse at work?”

  “No. I keep my keys, phone, and MetroCard in my pocket. It’s easier that way.”

  “Then we’re good to go.” My driver, Andre, pulled up. “Here’s the car.”

  Leah raised an eyebrow at me as I opened the door for her. For a second she appeared to debate if I was planning to kidnap her, but seemed to decide my intentions were sincere. Which they were. Regarding her ankle and getting her home safely.

  Contrary to my family’s opinion (and maybe some women I had dated before I had realized I wasn’t suited for dating), I wasn’t an asshole. My mother always said I was emotionless, but I’m not. I just am very closely in control of them. Meaning emotions. You know, feelings and shit. I had a lid on all of that. That didn’t mean I didn’t have a sincere interest in helping other people. It just meant I had no patience for bullshit and drama. So even if Leah had been an eighty-year-old man, I would still have been helping the guy home. It was the right thing to do.

  I wouldn’t be having dirty-as-hell thoughts about an eighty-year-old man though, which would frankly make me feel a lot better about my altruism than I did right then.

  “If I make you uncomfortable, Andre can drive you home solo,” I told her.

  Leah collapsed on the seat with a sigh and closed her eyes briefly. She opened them and blinked at me. “Get in the car, Grant. I’m
sure you have places to be. Walking will take you forever and cabs suck. Plus, you don’t scare me.”

  “Good to know I don’t give off serial killer vibes.” I slid in beside her. I greeted Andre and then asked Leah, “Where do you live?”

  “Washington Heights.”

  She lived at the very ends of the earth. Or the tip of Manhattan, which was basically was the same thing when you added in traffic. Fine by me. I was thirsty for more time with Leah and now I had the pleasurable feeling that Leah was just as attracted to me as I was to her. “Got that, Andre?”

  “Yes, sir. Just give me your address, miss.”

  She rattled off a street address. It wasn’t a neighborhood I went to frequently. My only extensive experience with Upper Manhattan was visiting high school friends at Columbia years earlier. I pulled my phone out and texted my assistant to cancel my meeting. There was no way I’d be back in Midtown in forty minutes. Work could wait.

  Me seeing this through couldn’t.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” Leah asked. “I don’t want to put you out. We can drop you off at your office or whatever on the way.”

  “You’re not putting me out. Let me be nice to you.” I gave her a smile. “It’s my fault you’re injured.”

  “True.” She reached into the pocket of her skirt. “That reminds me, here’s your money.”

  I held up my hand. “Keep it for ice packs and ankle wraps.”

  “I can’t accept it,” she said, trying to shove the money at me.

  I moved my hands everywhere in evasive tactics so she couldn’t press the hundred-dollar bill into my hand. At first, she was frustrated trying to follow my movements, then she laughed.

  “What are we, twelve? What are you doing?”

  She tried it again, but I maneuvered like LeBron James getting past a defender.

  “I’m not taking it, Leah. Forget it.”

  “Heavy-handed. Told you.”

  “And you appear to be stubborn.”

  “Determined, not stubborn.”

  “Just like I’m a leader, not heavy-handed.”

  Leah rolled her eyes at me. They were a deep, rich brown, with flecks of gold around the pupils. The first thing I’d noticed about Leah six months earlier was that she walked with a bounce so that her ponytail swung. Then when she had turned, the second thing I had noticed was her soulful eyes. They told a story every time she looked at me. I could tell when she was in a good mood, when she was tired, and when she was curiously assessing me.

  That was what she was doing now. Assessing me.

  “So, Grant, what do you do for a living?” she asked.

  “I run a real estate development company.”

  “You buy and sell property?”

  “Yes. And tear buildings down and build new ones.” In a very basic nutshell.

  “And that keeps you in pancakes and designer suits?”

  That made the corner of my mouth turn up. I could buy a pancake factory if I wanted to. “Yes. I have no complaints.”

  Andre, who was my father’s driver for years before becoming mine, and more family than employee, piped up. “He’s actually filthy rich, miss.”

  Leah made a choking sound in the back of her throat.

  “Andre, what the hell?” I said, annoyed. “Don’t make me sound so damn pompous.”

  Sure, I was proud of what I’d accomplished as an adult, but I was well aware I was fortunate to have been born to wealth.

  “What?” Andre looked at me in the rearview mirror, feigning innocence. “It’s true.”

  “Yeah, but saying that out loud makes me sound like I’m bragging.”

  “I said it, not you.”

  Not the fucking point. “Never mind.” I looked at Leah. “Sorry about that. I am not filthy rich.” I actually was, but I felt compelled to be modest. “I’m just rich.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well… I think everyone’s definition of filthy is different.”

  And just like that, Leah took an awkward moment and made it flirtatious. Her voice was low, breathy.

  Green light. That’s what that was. And I was hitting the gas and plowing into the intersection.

  I eyed her. “What do you know about filthy?”

  I had leaned closer to her, turned slightly, my thigh brushing against the fabric of her skirt. Her lips were a ripe raspberry color and she had a divot in the base of her chin that made me want to kiss it. Her chest rose and fell beneath her tight sweater with a quick rhythm, like she was turned on. Intrigued. Contemplating her move. She opened her mouth, gaze sweeping over my lips, and for a second I thought she was going to move close enough that I could kiss her.

  Instead, she held my gaze, all seduction and skill, while her hand shot out and tucked the cash into the breast pocket of my suit. She grinned and turned back to the front, smug.

  Damn.

  “Nice acting skills,” I told her dryly. Leah, starring in the role of femme fatale, and I’d fallen for it.

  “Thanks. I’m working on eye contact.”

  I was working on blue balls.

  She was cute and clever. Fuck.

  I knew a couple of women who wanted exactly what I did—no-strings-attached sex. No one got offended if months went by without contact and it was just as likely they would text me as I would text them. I didn’t get… ensnared. Leah could ensnare me. It might be time to send out a sexual SOS. I needed zero contact with Leah after today. She wasn’t good for my concentration. But I did admire both her boldness and her talent.

  “That was savage,” I told her. “I love it.”

  “I need a distraction from the fact that my ankle seems to have a heartbeat and half the ice has melted so now my sock is damp.”

  Right. Her busted ankle. That was the relevant issue at hand, not my dick.

  “You really should elevate your ankle. Turn a little.”

  Surprisingly, she obeyed me. I dug my way through all that fabric and hauled her calf and ankle up onto my lap. I also tucked the hundred bucks back into her skirt pocket. She didn’t seem to notice and just cleared her throat.

  Leah bit her bottom lip. “This is weird,” she said. “I don’t think you want my damp sock on your pants.”

  There were so many things I wanted to say. All of them inappropriate as fuck.

  What I settled for was, “Don’t assume what I want.”

  Chapter 2

  Was Grant flirting with me? Finally?

  Andre coughed in the front seat.

  Which made me think the driver heard it too. That gruff, sexual undertone to Grant’s words.

  For once, I was speechless. My parents wouldn’t believe it, since my dad always said I came out screaming and hadn’t stopped making noise since. But I was stunned into silence by the close proximity to Grant, his words, and by the pain radiating through my ankle.

  We didn’t speak for one hundred and forty blocks. One hundred and forty blocks. You read that right. The entire time with my foot propped onto Grant’s muscular leg, his tie flapping out of my sock. With my legs spread from the position.

  Thank God for the volume of the poodle skirt or this would be more awkward than it already was.

  Maybe awkward wasn’t the right word. Maybe just… aware. I was just very aware of his body, his closeness, his masculinity.

  I waited for him to say something, anything, but he was typing on his phone over the top of my leg. If he wasn’t going to talk to me, why hadn’t he just gone on his merry way (okay, stoic and smoldering way) and left the driver to take me home solo?

  Grant was hard to figure out. He didn’t seem like a reluctant Good Samaritan but at the same time he was more matter-of-fact than enthusiastic about helping. He was… bossy. Take charge.

  I imagined he would be the same in the bedroom.

  The thought made me even more aware of his body brushing against mine, and my leg sprawled over his thighs. As the trip had gone on, he had gradually lowered his arms until they were actually resting on my thigh and calf as
he texted. He didn’t seem aware of the fact.

  “Are you very busy?” I asked him finally. I was mildly amused but enough was enough.

  “What?” He glanced over at me. “No, I mean, not any busier than usual.”

  “You’re using my leg as a desk to text,” I pointed out.

  His arms flew up off my legs. “Sorry. My assistant had some questions.” He tucked his phone into his jacket pocket and gave me a smile. “My apologies.”

  I opened my mouth though I wasn’t entirely sure what the hell I was going to say to Mr. Very Busy and Super Hot.

  We pulled up in front of my building.

  Andre turned and looked back at me. “We’re here, miss.”

  I was both relieved and disappointed. The silence was killing me but at the same time I wanted to scream, “That’s it? This is all that’s going to happen?”

  Grant carefully set my foot back down on the floorboard and got out of the car. I lived in a quiet, residential area with brick building after brick building that had reasonable, for New York, rent. It would have taken me over an hour to get home on the train, with people jostling me as they were getting on and off the subway, the entire time. I considered myself pretty resilient but I was very grateful to skip that tedious trip. I could have gotten a cab or a Lyft but that wasn’t really in the budget this month. I’d overspent on makeup for the show off-off-off Broadway I was currently in as a backup mermaid. Green glitter eyeshadow is not cheap, even if you would expect it would be. Nothing in New York is cheap. Not even the thrills.

  I scooted across the seat and cautiously put my foot down on the sidewalk. Grant was holding his hand out to me, so I took it, needing the tug and wanting the touch.

  He gave me a smile that I imagined had gained the trust of business partners and women alike. “Honey, we’re home,” he murmured. He helped me to my feet.

  “Thanks,” I said, gazing up at him as he pulled me upright and I found my footing. “For the ride. And the ice pack made from your tie. You were clearly a Boy Scout to improvise like that. I’ll dry clean it and bring it to the diner next Wednesday.”

  “I’m not worried about my tie. I’m worried about you getting upstairs. What floor do you live on?”