Another Mazzy Monday (5 page)

“No, you didn’t give that impression, but I just wanted to make sure.”

“Separate rooms. Definitely. No worries.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, but to be honest I’m also a little disappointed that he seems so adamant about not sleeping with me. It doesn’t even seem to interest him a little bit.

“I’m going to grab my bags from the car and then I’ll help you take your stuff upstairs. How does that sound?”

“Great.”

Drew must travel light. He’s only got two small bags. He’s a big guy so it’s not difficult for him to grab my stuff along with his bags. But I ask if he needs help anyway.

“I’ve got it,” he insists. “I would never dream of letting my fiancée carry her own bags.” Then he winks at me. The guy certainly oozes charm from every pour of his body. But there’s also something very superficial about it. Like it’s an act: staged and well-rehearsed.

Suzie and I follow Drew upstairs. He stops at one of the closed doors. “This bedroom is the finest, in my opinion. I think it has the nicest balcony and lake views.”

I open the door and gasp when I see the view. He’s right. It’s spectacular.

“I take it this room will do,” he says as he places my bags on the cedar hope chest at the end of the bed.

“It’s wonderful.” The bed looks enormous and very comfortable with a mountain of overstuffed pillows and a fluffy down comforter. I’m already thinking about how luxurious it will feel snuggling up in it.

“I’ll be down the hall,” Drew says as he exits. “Last door on the right.”

I turn to Suzie. “What do you think?”

“I am so jealous right now. Is my face green with envy?”

We both laugh.

“Do you think he has any brothers?” Suzie asks. “Maybe one of them needs a fake fiancée.”

“You’re the one who knows about politics. Don’t you know if he has any brothers?”

She sits down on the bed. “I only know what I overhear people saying when I pour drinks. I never heard anyone talking about any brothers.”

I move over to the glass slider and open it so I can get a better look at the balcony. “You have to see this,” I yell back to Suzie.

“Wow,” she exclaims as she joins me. “I can’t believe you have your own balcony.”

“It looks like all of the bedrooms do,” I point out.

“Too bad he didn’t hire you to be his fake fiancée over the summer. I’d love to swim in that lake.”

“It does look pristine,” I agree.

“Mazzy.” I hear Drew call my name.

Suzie and I hurry back into the bedroom to find Drew now wearing dark blue jeans and a sweater. He wasn’t kidding when he said his meeting is casual. He looks more like he’s going on a date.

As we get closer to him I can’t help but notice the spicy aftershave he’s wearing.

“Do you like your room?” he asks.

“I love it.”

He nods. “I’ll be home late. I just wanted to remind you.”

“Okay,” I say although I’m not sure how I could forget. He’s been very clear about it.

He looks uncomfortable like he wants to say more, but he puts his hands on his hips instead. He stares at me for a few seconds then asks, “George gave you his number? In case you need anything.”

“He did,” I assure him.

“Good,” he replies. I expect him to leave on that note, but his brow is furrowed like he still has something to say.

“Have fun,” I say in an effort to get him to leave. I’m starting to feel a little awkward and the conversation between us is definitely strained.

“It’s a business meeting,” he insists in a way that says that he’s trying to convince both of us.

“I know,” I say innocently, even though it’s becoming more obvious by the second that the guy is going on a date. The only question is why he’s fake engaged to me instead of whomever he’s meeting.

He glances at his watch. “I’d better get going.”

I don’t want to say anymore because I’m ready for him to leave so I just give him a quick wave instead.

To my surprise he leans down and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Almost as if he’s fulfilling an obligation. Is that what was stressing him out? Wondering if he was supposed to show some type of physical affection before he left.

“Bye,” I say.

He gives me one of his best politician grins before he heads out the door.

My sister and I both stare at each other until we hear a car door slam and the faint sound of his engine fading in the distance.

“That was weird,” Suzie says when there’s no doubt that he’s gone.

“Very. Did it seem to you like he was going to a casual business meeting?”

“Oh, hell no. That guy has a date.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“So the question is, why hire a fake fiancée when you’re obviously dating someone?”

“That’s a really good question. I’m just not sure I’m eager to find out.”

***

The rumble of my stomach wakes me up. With all of the excitement last night of Suzie and I checking out every inch of the house and using our quick wit and keen detection skills to find out more about Drew Graham and his family, we still came up with absolutely nothing.

But we did forget to eat.

I throw on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt and make my way downstairs.

I gasp when I see the gourmet kitchen. It’s better than the dream kitchen of my wildest fantasy. A cook’s paradise and everything looks brand new. I can’t wait to give the appliances a test drive.

George wasn’t lying. The refrigerator is fully stocked. More food than I could ever possibility eat on my own. For a moment I wonder if I should cook breakfast for Drew as well. Another thing we never really discussed. And it’s not like I actually heard him come home last night. No engine. No car door. No bedroom door. No bathroom noises. Nothing. The place was absolutely silent. I didn’t even hear a cricket.

My gut instinct tells me that he stayed somewhere else all night so I opt to make an omelet for one. I gather mushrooms, red peppers, onions and fresh tomatoes and set about getting the veggies sliced and diced.

Just as I’m in the midst of preparing my mushrooms a young guy with a backpack waltzes into the kitchen.

And he’s not Drew.

I freeze with fear and try to remember if I locked the front door before I went to sleep last night. I’m glad that I have a sharp object in my hand even if it is just a paring knife.

To my surprise the young guy drops his backpack on the floor next to him and stares at me for a few moments. It’s almost like he recognizes me, even though I have no idea who he is.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I think it’s obvious that I’m making an omelet,” I fire back.

He smirks. “I guess a better question is why you have a key to my house and why are you making me breakfast.”

His sparkling green eyes seem to be full of humor and it’s really pissing me off. He’s acting like he owns the place and I’m some sort of intruder when I’m the one who belongs here.

“I’m making an omelet for one and you’re not the one. And I live here for your information. What are you doing here?”

He laughs at me. A big hearty laugh. “You live here? With my brother, Andrew?”

I’ve never heard anyone call him Andrew before. I guess it makes sense, but I never even thought about it.

When the guy has the audacity to plop down on a stool right across the counter from where I’m cooking I have to restrain myself from saying something really nasty. Besides I can’t help but notice how attractive he is when he’s not running off at the mouth. He looks about my age, early twenties, and he’s rugged looking and sexy as hell. He’s definitely a bad boy. If I had to guess I’d say he rode out here on a motorcycle.

I hold up my hand so he can see the diamond ring on my finger. “Drew and I are engaged.”

“Sure you are.” He slips out of the black leather jacket he’s wearing and tosses it onto the stool next to him.

The T-shirt he’s wearing underneath is tight against his large, muscular chest. The guy is extremely well built, but he also seems to realize how attractive he is. There is nothing subtle about him at all. He’s practically oozing testosterone. 

“You seem to be making yourself at home, but you still haven’t told me who you are or what you’re doing here.”

“You’re right,” he says, but makes no effort to provide me with any additional information. “Maybe we can talk over breakfast. I love omelets, by the way, and you look like you know your way around a kitchen.”

“My dad was a chef,” I admit. “If you tell me who you are and why you’re here, since you act like you belong here, I may
consider
making you breakfast.”

“Austin Graham. I do belong here. I’ve got a key and everything.” He removes a key from the pocket of his tight-fitting black jeans and holds it up for me to see. “My family owns this place.”

“You’re Drew’s brother?” I look him up and down in an effort to see even the slightest family resemblance. There isn’t much of one. Drew is highbrow in every way. Everything about him is refined and perfect. Austin is rough around every edge imaginable. He could be the poster child for a bad boy biker club.

“Guilty as charged,” he says as he slides from the stool and makes his way over to the refrigerator. I can’t help notice how well he fills out those black jeans of his.

Then to my utter horror he removes a milk carton from the fridge, opens it, and guzzles milk straight from the carton.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I practically scream.

He actually has the audacity to grin at me before he takes another big swig out of the carton. It’s almost like he’s taunting me. Daring me to get riled up.

“That’s disgusting,” I comment more to myself than anything else. I get the distinct impression that this guy does not care one bit what I think.

“I was thirsty,” he says as he sticks the milk carton back into the fridge.

“This kitchen has plenty of glasses, I can assure you. You don’t need to drink out of the carton. Now what am I supposed to do when I want milk?”

He grins. “I can
assure you
that the milk is just fine.”

“How do I know where your mouth has been?” As soon as the words leave my mouth I immediately regret them.

When I look up at Austin he’s actually biting back a laugh. “I could give you a list. How much time do you have?” 

The guy is really starting to irritate me. He reminds me so much of the guys I hated in high school. The ones who were attractive and everyone loved. They acted like they were God’s gift to women. They always acted like they didn’t have a care in the world. And most of them came from wealthy families. They never had to actually work for anything.

This guy is all of that on steroids. A smug, entitled rich guy, who has had the world handed to him on a silver platter.

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “Why did you seem so surprised that I’m engaged to Drew? Don’t think I’m good enough for him?” 

He looks me up and down. “I never said that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Have the two of you had sex? With each other?”

I can feel my face heating up. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Not that I expected you to say yes. How much is he paying you?”

“Excuse me?”

“To pretend to be his fiancée. How much is he paying you?”

“I…um…I’m insulted that you would even think that.”

He laughs again. “Don’t be. I know my brother. He’ll do anything to be governor of the great state of New Jersey including pretending to have a fiancée. Sorry, darling, I hate to break this to you. But you’re not exactly my brother’s type.”

I feel like I’m going to cry. Austin seems to have a knack of pinpointing my insecurities and using them against me. I do wonder why Drew doesn’t seem to be physically attracted to me at all. Austin seems to know exactly why.

“Why do you say that I’m not Drew’s type? He did ask me to marry him.” I hold up my hand with the ring on it just to prove my point while trying as hard as I can to blink back the tears I can feel forming in my eyes. I don’t want to give this asshole the satisfaction of making me cry.

He looks me up and down again like he’s judging me. “You’re missing a few essential parts of anatomy that by brother can’t live without.”

I glance down at my breasts. I’ve never been large breasted, but I’ve never had anyone insinuate that there was a problem with them before.

I feel like slapping Austin in the face until he says, “I was talking about something a little lower than that. Something that you really can’t do anything about.”

I furrow my brow. Now I’m really puzzled. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

When he leans in so close that I get a whiff of his masculine scent, I’m furious at myself when my body heats in response. The last thing I want it to be attracted to this asshole in any way.

“You’re a beard,” he whispers into my ear.