close to her. The fact that he was also bare-chested and sweaty was making it increasingly difficult for her to breathe. Telling herself that it was the heavy September air and not the man was a flat-out lie and she knew it.
Still, like a loyal terrier, she hung in. “No, because it’s the right thing to do.”
The right thing. What did someone with smooth, pampered hands and unbroken fingernails know about the right thing? What would she know about how hard it was to make a living in a hostile world? His lips curled in a sneer.
“The right thing, Greer, would be for you to retreat and tell Her Majesty that one of her relatives can’t be summoned to the gathering.” He paused at his bedroom door, his hand on the doorknob. “I’m sure I won’t be the only one sending his ‘regrets.’”
She wasn’t accustomed to lying, but she was beginning to think that perhaps there was a time and a place for everything.
“Yes, you will be,” Greer called after him.
He laughed under his breath and then turned to look at her over his shoulder, sincerely doubting her statement. “Well, I always did like standing out. Now, you’ve used up your five minutes, Greer, and I’d like to get on a first-name basis with my shower, so I figure you can see yourself out.”
With that he withdrew, leaving her flabbergasted and alone in his living room.
He shed his jeans as he walked toward his bathroom shower stall. Damn, where did she get off, being pushy like that? He had a hell of a lot more important things on his mind than prancing off to some society bigwig’s party and being treated like the long lost black sheep of the family.
Rafe turned on the water full blast and let the steam envelop him, kneading the tight, aching muscles.
Tilting his head up under the showerhead, he laughed to himself. Hell, the whole side of his family could be thought of as black sheep when it came to the Maitland clan. And he supposed he was the blackest for not having anything to do with any of them.
But there were reasons for that.
Besides, he thought, lathering quickly, he had more than enough to deal with, what with Rory and Lil dying and leaving him to care for Bethany. Him, a confirmed bachelor without a clue what to do with a baby that didn’t have four legs and a tail. If that wasn’t enough, Lil’s aunt and uncle had suddenly turned up after years of silence, demanding custody of the little girl.
He washed the soap from his body, turning up the heat another notch and standing there to absorb the hot water. Maybe he would even have let them have Bethany, if he hadn’t given his word to Lil that he wouldn’t. With almost the last breath in her body, she’d begged him not to let the pair get their hands on Bethany. Not to put her baby through the hell she’d lived through and barely survived as a child. Lil wanted something better for Bethany. And it was up to him to see that she got it.
So he’d gone to a lawyer, first thing, and plunked down his hard-earned money, knowing that he needed help to allow him to keep his word. That stuck in his throat a little, not being able to do it alone. He was used to fighting his own battles, cleaning up his own messes. He’d been doing it ever since he could remember, raising himself because his parents were either too busy fighting or too busy living their own lives to take any notice of him.
Well, strictly speaking, he supposed his mother had tried her best. But the former showgirl was far more suited to dancing in skimpy outfits than to being a mother. She hadn’t the faintest idea what a kid needed. But Veronica Maitland had given him love and he supposed she had done her best.
He didn’t fault her. He faulted his father, who actually was a Maitland. In Rafe’s book, they were all probably like his old man. Out for themselves, self-serving. There had to be some kind of gimmick behind this invitation, he thought, and he wasn’t about to play along. Not if there wasn’t anything in it for him.
As seductive as standing under the shower was, Rafe forced himself to hurry. He didn’t want to greet the new cook’s daughter in his birthday suit. He’d seen the way the cook could swing a cleaver and wanted to take no chances on being on the receiving end of that.
Getting out, Rafe quickly toweled himself dry and slid on a clean pair of jeans. Alyssa, he figured, would be here with the baby any minute. They had an arrangement. She watched the baby during the day while he worked, and he was teaching her to ride. He figured he was getting the better end of the deal.
His hair still damp from the shower, his clean shirt only half buttoned, Rafe opened his bedroom door and walked out of the room to find that the woman in the large glasses and sensible shoes was once again standing in his living room.
“What the hell are you doing back?” he demanded.
Her back to him, Greer jumped, startled. She hadn’t heard the door open. She’d been waiting for him, trying to string together her words so that she could make an effective argument, and he’d surprised her.
She bit her lower lip. She was better at delivering an argument on paper than in person, but it was time she learned how to talk.
“I never left.”
Rafe indicated the door behind her. “Well, leave now.”
She stood her ground. “No, not until you actually hear me out.” And not until you say yes, she added silently. She began to talk quickly, knowing he was getting ready to cut her off. “The reason Mrs. Maitland never got in contact with you before is that, until just recently, she was as ignorant of you as you were of her. The point is—” Greer drew herself up “—you know about each other now and now is all that counts.”
He’d always admired guts, and he had to admit, she seemed to have guts in spades. Instead of throwing the woman out, he rethought the situation. If he gave her a condition she couldn’t meet, she’d be forced to withdraw and stop badgering him. And his conscience would be clean.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Now is all that counts. If you’re so hot to get me there, fine. But I need a favor.” He leveled his gaze at her. “Now.”
The nervousness she’d been experiencing ever since she’d seen him walking toward her like a stalking panther intensified.
“What kind of favor?” She failed to keep the tension out of her voice.
A fragment of what the lawyer he’d gone to had said to him came back to Rafe. The attorney had told him that he would have an easier time of gaining custody of Bethany if he was married or at least engaged.
Okay, that was it. He looked at her. “I need a fiancée.”
It was to Greer’s credit that her mouth didn’t drop open. “I beg your pardon?”
He had her, Rafe thought triumphantly. He could almost hear the door closing behind her already.
“No need to beg anything. I made a promise to two friends, the best friends a man could ever want, and in order to keep that promise, it looks like I’m going to need a fiancée. A wife, really, but I don’t think I have to carry this act too far.” She was going to turn tail and run any second, he promised himself. “Tell me, Greer, do you want me to go to this Christmas thing enough to pretend to be my fiancée?”
This was insane. What he was asking was plain crazy. It went way above and beyond the call of
