Rent A Millionaire Groom. Judy Christenberry

he was a sucker for green eyes.

      ELISE HAD GONE straight to the coffee shop, needing time to pull herself together and go over her proposal. The man was perfect, and she didn’t want to mess things up. Now that she’d seen him, the half-baked plan had become a necessity.

      Her sisters would die. He was handsome, as Cecille had said—but there was more. He carried an air of authority that commanded attention. Her thoughts flew to her ex-fiancé, Richard. He’d be apoplectic with jealousy.

      That thought pleased her, even as she acknowledged its pettiness. Why Bobby hadn’t been discovered professionally yet, she didn’t know. But she could predict a brilliant future for him in Hollywood.

      Something caused her to look up, and she almost forgot to breathe. He stood by the table, waiting for her to invite him to join her. “Oh, hi!” she said, realizing she sounded as breathy and enthralled as a freshman girl talking to the senior football star.

      She cleared her throat. “Won’t you sit down?”

      That was better, more professional.

      He smiled, and she had to take another deep breath. She figured his value just doubled.

      “Thanks. You know me, but I haven’t met you before, have I? What’s your name?”

      Her cheeks flamed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was intent on getting you to listen to me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Elise Foster, French professor at the school.”

      “I’m delighted to meet you.”

      “Thank you, Bobby,” she said, letting out her pent-up breath. He looked older and somehow more sophisticated than the college students. But he was a teaching assistant, she remembered, so he had to be in advanced graduate studies.

      He frowned, and she wondered what she’d said wrong.

      “Would you mind calling me James? Bobby is a stage name. Unless I need it for the job you’re offering.”

      “Of course, James. I mean, it won’t be necessary if you— Yes, that’s fine.”

      The waitress appeared beside the table, distracting them. Elise ordered a diet cola, but James opted for coffee.

      “Do you want anything to eat? A piece of pie, French fries, a hamburger?” she offered. After all, actors were notoriously broke. Maybe he hadn’t eaten in a while.

      “No thanks, just coffee.”

      As soon as the waitress left, he leaned forward, loosely clasping his hands together on the table.

      She loved his hands. Well-tended, the fingers were long but strong, powerful. She also noticed he wore no wedding ring. She hadn’t even thought to ask about that.

      “You’re not married, are you?” she asked hurriedly.

      One dark eyebrow rose over clear blue eyes. “This…offer is getting more interesting by the minute.”

      She blushed again. “No! I didn’t mean— It might complicate things if— Never mind.”

      “No, I’m not married.”

      “Oh, good.” At least he hadn’t run out of the coffee shop in horror. She wasn’t managing to sound as in control as she’d planned, but he was still here.

      “Why does it matter?”

      “Well, I told you the job was—was personal. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I need an escort.”

      That fascinating brow rose again. “I can’t believe you have difficulty finding an escort, Dr. Foster.”

      “Um, make it Elise. It’s not— I don’t date much.”

      “Your choice, I’m sure.”

      That was flattering, but considering all the weeks they’d worked trying to find a man for Daisy, she wasn’t sure it was accurate. The thought of Daisy made her feel guilty. Should she introduce her friend to Bobby—James? No, an actor wasn’t in a stable job situation. That wouldn’t do at all for a prospective father.

      That rationalization made her feel much better.

      “Are we talking about a class reunion?” he guessed. “I’ve heard of people taking pretend partners to those things to impress their classmates.”

      He was taking everything very well, but Elise hated the conversation. She would never do that, lie to impress someone. That had been Richard’s standard M.O.

      But that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? a small voice inside her asked. No, I’m lying to get some peace from my family. She needed to make sure that James understood that.

      “It’s not a reunion.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “You see, I come from a large family.”

      “Lucky you.”

      She blinked, surprised by his response. “Don’t you have brothers and sisters?”

      “One brother. But there’s eleven years difference between us, so it was almost like being an only child.”

      “Oh. Well, I guess there are advantages to a large family, though some days it’s hard to remember them.”

      He smiled again, and she figured he’d make his fortune on the basis of his smile alone. Or his eyes. His Paul Newman blue eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

      “Um, yes, well, I have six sisters and one brother.”

      “So there are eight of you. That’s quite a large family these days.”

      She felt as if she was babbling, and she’d had everything planned out so rationally. “Yes,” she agreed, and clamped her mouth shut.

      That eyebrow again. He looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

      “Sharon, my baby sister, is getting married soon.”

      “The youngest? How old is she?”

      “Twenty-two. She finished college in December.”

      He frowned, and she caught her breath. “You and your sisters must’ve been born close together because you don’t look much older.”

      He was good with the flattery. She supposed it must be his stock-in-trade. “I’m thirty-three. My brother is older.”

      “And you already have your doctorate? I’m impressed. Did you study in France?”

      “Yes, at the— Never mind,” she hurriedly said. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get distracted and never tell him what she really wanted.

      “You want to stick to the subject?” he asked, smiling again, a twinkle in his eye.

      With a sigh, she said, “Yes, please. This is difficult enough as it is.”

      “To ask me to escort you to your sister’s wedding? That’s not asking much. I’ll be glad to take you.”

      Elise seriously considered accepting his offer. Then she could tell him just before the wedding that she actually needed him to appear to be more than just her date—but that would be wrong.

      With another sigh, she said, “Thank you, but that’s not exactly what I’m asking.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m asking you to be my fiancé.”

      Chapter Two

      He couldn’t believe it.

      He’d been suckered in, like an inexperienced teenager.

      Damn it, he was thirty-six. He’d been chased by the best, and he’d fallen for this green-eyed witch’s simple plan.

      He schooled his features to give nothing away. “I’m not interested in marriage, Dr. Foster.”

      As he