The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancé (Invested in Love) Read online

  “What is this?” She turned around, taking it all in. She didn’t see individual pieces, the swirl of color shocking her. Rusty oranges and warm browns, smooth creams and pops of bright green and pale pink spun as she twirled.

  “This is Camille Frye at her best. She left a card.”

  Robyn stopped to take the envelope, guilt sinking in her stomach. She admired Camille, knew she could learn a lot from her. Losing Curtis meant she’d lose his mother. The troubling feeling deepened as she read the card.

  Welcome to our family, Robyn. We are all so pleased our Curtis has found someone so utterly devoted to him. Since we both know his aversion to black, I thought it might be best to give you some more colorful options.

  “You hate black?”

  “Despise it.”

  And that was all she ever wore. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I have two sisters. I know better than to tell a woman what to wear.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Besides, that’s my mother’s job.”

  She looked wistfully around the room, then down at her nightgown. “I can’t accept this.”

  Curtis rolled his eyes, pulling open a drawer of belts. “Try the life on for the rest of the week. All of it.”

  His gaze caught hers with a wicked, suggestive gleam. Hope danced across her heart. If he wanted her this badly, he had to feel something. He might be as expressive as a brick wall, but maybe he was as afraid as her of losing what they could be.

  Part of her scoffed at the notion as she wrestled with her conscience. What would it hurt to try on the life? At least parts of it. She reached out, her fingers tickling along a pink sundress.

  “Go ahead, try it on.”

  She lifted the hanger from the rod and held the dress against her body. “Okay. Give me a minute to change.”

  He shook his head, slow and purposeful. “I want to watch.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest, the devil on her shoulder telling her to go for it, but she’d made a decision, and she had to stand by it. She tilted up her chin, plastering on a facade of boldness. “I don’t think so. Why don’t you wait in the other room?”

  His ominous frown made him look surprised, as if he expected a closet full of clothes to pull him back into her good graces. “You don’t like the new wardrobe?”

  “Did you think new outfits would make me want to sleep with you?”

  The way his head snapped back in alarm gave her some relief. At least he understood he’d been insulting, even if he hadn’t realized it before.

  “I’m not ready to try on the whole life. But I’m willing to start with the clothes.”

  With a sharp nod, he retreated from the room without so much as a backward glance. Robyn sighed, unsure what she wanted from him, from herself. Everything was such a jumble, taking the next few days off to relax and explore the limited possibilities with Curtis tempted her. She was already in love with him, what was she protecting herself from, really?

  With a wistful smile, she shed the nightgown, slipping into the pink, ruffle-trimmed sundress. She couldn’t quite get the zipper in the back, and instead of contorting herself she walked into the bedroom. Curtis sat in a brown leather armchair, staring at the horizon.

  “Can you zip me up?” She turned so her back was to him and swept her hair over her shoulder. His knuckles grazed her skin as he pulled the zipper. Leather crunched when he sat back down.

  “Turn around.”

  She performed a teasing pirouette, running her hands over the delicate material.

  “I like it.”

  She looked down to where he sat, watching his gaze pore over her like a physical touch. When his gaze met hers, his warm, mischievous grin caused her to raise an eyebrow.

  “Me, too.” She turned her back to him, pulling her hair aside again. “Now unzip me so I can try on something else.”

  …

  Strutting like a model on a runway, Robyn paraded a dozen outfits past him. Skirts and sweaters, pants and cardigans, jeans and jackets. Enthusiasm sparkled in her eyes.

  Out she came, in a ruffled tuxedo shirt and slacks that made her legs look miles long. Gorgeous, except for the look on her face.

  “Did you tell your mother you were firing me?”

  He shook his head, wary of the glint in her eye. “I didn’t fire you.”

  “There aren’t many work clothes. There are only two suits in there.”

  “And?”

  Robyn shook her head, marching back into the closet. Curtis shook his head, too, wondering if there were any decoder ring for what that woman thought. He was skilled at reading people, prided himself on it, but she was an enigma.

  She’d always been so good at anticipating what he wanted at work, delivering before he even asked, so it shocked him she wanted every last detail spelled out now. Especially when all the decisions were hers to make. There were plenty of committees to chair, fundraisers to plan. Hell, she could redecorate the house. She wouldn’t be wanting for things to do.

  She strode down the hall with purpose, stopping right in front of him in a bold green dress and matching jacket. He blinked at the creamy mounds of her breasts peeking over the top of the strapless dress. Nice.

  “This is completely inappropriate for work.”

  “It’s a suit.” Not the kind she used to wear, but if she had…

  She shrugged off the jacket, tossing it across his lap and placing her hands on her hips. “This is a strapless dress. For work?”

  “Maybe she wanted you to dress more your age.”

  “My age? I need to dress more professionally because I am young, not less. Every man who comes into the office for a meeting will be staring at my boobs.”

  She had him there. He tore his gaze away. “You don’t have to like everything she picks out.”

  Her chest rose and fell as she huffed. “She knew I didn’t have a job, and I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t tell her, she assumed. It would be awkward for us to work together now.”

  “Yes, now. But not if everything had worked out.”

  He leveled his gaze at her. “I’m not asking you to get my coffee and sort my mail.”

  “Then when would I see you? You live at the office.”

  “At home, after work.”

  “At night, for sex.” She shook her head, returning to the closet.

  When she put it like that, it sounded awful. But it also meant she’d have the freedom and money to be completely independent. Why did she have to always see things negatively? He’d thought this would cheer her up, but it seemed to be making things worse.

  There had to be something he could do to calm her, make her see what a great life she could have if she’d just look beyond her Cinderella fairy tale. He wished he knew what to say to get her to see things from his side.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Robyn called out.

  “What is it?” Curtis stood, unsure if going into the closet would get him screamed at, or worse, start her crying again.

  “Your mother thinks I’m a slut.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Camille preferred the term loose, and had liberally applied it to women he’d been reported to be dating. She’d been completely in favor of Robyn. Such a nice girl.

  “This says she does.” Robyn marched through the doors, clad in jeans and a creamy lace camisole laced up the front, the satin ribbons playing peek-a-boo with her naked flesh beneath.

  His mouth watered and he swallowed, twice. “You look fantastic.”

  “Where am I going to wear a shirt that laces up the front?” She placed her hands on her hips, stretching the patience of the ribbon and his.

  “Home.” He stepped to her, reaching out to undo the tiny bow she’d tied. She caught his hand.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Helping you undress?”

  “I’ve got it, thanks.” She took a step back. “You know, you need to try on the life, too. It won’t be a nonstop naked party.”

&nbs
p; He exaggerated a pout. “Why not?”

  She smiled, that big fake smile she gave delivery people. “You want a whore, hire one.” She turned on her heel and marched back through the doors.

  Who knew sweet Robyn Tindall had such a mean side? It’s not like he’d picked out the clothes, and she enjoyed herself as much as he did when they were naked.

  Curtis marched through the bathroom, back to the closet, and knocked on the partly closed door. “Robyn?”

  Something clunked against the wall, making him step back and reevaluate. Would she really throw something at him?

  “I don’t like how this is going.”

  “Me, either,” she said from inside.

  “I thought this would make you more comfortable, not having to wear lingerie all the time. I thought—”

  She stepped through the doorway, still in the jeans, but she’d changed to a crocheted tank the same pale green as her eyes. Her brows knit together, her teeth worrying her luscious bottom lip. He hardened, remembering how he’d feasted on her succulent mouth.

  Her angry scowl eased. “I overreacted. I know it’s not what you meant.”

  He nodded, trying to tread carefully.

  “I think I overreact because you don’t react at all.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m having a reaction.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re getting turned on because of the cleavage factor.”

  “That is a reaction.”

  “Not the one I want.” Her lower lip trembled, quickening his pulse. He hated nothing more than being the cause of her tears.

  “I loved it the first time Camille picked out a wardrobe for me. It felt amazingly freeing to get out of the black and have everything be new. I wanted you to have that feeling, too. Changing how I looked in the mirror let me believe I could shed other things from my life before.”

  Her face relaxed, her eyes widening in a smile as she leaned against the doorframe. “How old were you when the Fryes adopted you?”

  “Nine.” He hadn’t meant to open himself up for a question-and-answer session. A cold knot formed in his stomach, twisting and tightening, warning him to stop to protect her from it.

  “Why did you wear black?”

  “He decided we both needed to stay in mourning after my mother died.” Curtis never knew what to call the man who’d chosen revenge over his son. “Father” didn’t fit anymore.

  “Why did you change your name?” Her soft voice soothed him, allowing him to answer questions he’d rather walk away from.

  “Because Jason Frye is ten years older than me. Two kids with the same name would have been odd. But really, I wanted to get away from the name. Jason Curtis murdered someone. Back then, I thought people would think I did it. I wanted away from it, to pretend that entire year never happened.”

  “Mrs. Rutledge still calls you Jason.” She looked as if she were weighing his answers, waiting to see how the scales would tip.

  He nodded. “She’s known me since before the Fryes. She was the one who asked them to take me in.”

  “You’re very lucky to have her.” She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. He waited for it, that look of shock, fear, disgust to mar her face. Instead he saw her open, calm gaze holding him up.

  “She lived next door. She and my mother used to talk after work while I played in her yard because it was bigger than ours. I think, after the accident, she wanted to make sure I was okay, out of duty to my mother. She always told me my father would pull out of his obsession with vengeance, but she didn’t know about the drugs.” The words poured out of his mouth like rain from a thunderhead. He’d said more than he planned, but he didn’t know how to get the water back into the cloud.

  Robyn reached out and wrapped her small, soft hand around his. “Thank you for trying to give me the feeling you had.” She squeezed his hand, stepping out of the doorway to stand next to him. “Let’s get to work on the plans for the house. I don’t want to leave this project unfinished.”

  She released his hand, walked past him and out of the suite. He followed, amazed she hadn’t pried for more, hadn’t grilled him the way others did when he gave them half the opening.

  He stood taller, proud of having told her. He rarely did, because of the way people reacted, but she hadn’t reacted at all. There hadn’t been a shred of pity in her eyes.

  Calm washed over him as he left the room. If she could accept him as he was, damaged past and all, she was more than just the convenient fiancée he’d hoped for. She was a friend, a partner, someone he could trust absolutely. With anything.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You haven’t touched your wine.”

  Robyn stared at the deep red liquid in the glass, wondering if she dared. When she drank, the tiny part of her still in control of her responses to him was silenced. Leaving her to do some thoughtless things, like agree to this charade in the first place and seduce him in a swimming pool.

  “Are you feeling all right?” His voice held the tone of an apology, as if he’d done something wrong.

  “I’m fine.” She forced a smile, trying to keep her mind from wandering to what would happen after dinner. Stabbing her fork at a few more vodka-sauce-drenched penne, she continued to eat. The pasta was warm and comforting, exactly what she needed now when temptation loomed large.

  He’d been so open today, especially after the way she’d overreacted to the clothes. She’d thought agreeing to pose as his fiancée would mean more time together, not less. Everyone seemed to catch that little snag in her plan except her. She hadn’t seen anything except a way to get what she wanted, however unrealistic.

  They were both guilty of the same thing, wanting their own perfect and not thinking the other person would have a completely different version. Surprisingly, their minds were in agreement about what to do with Sapphire Isle. He took in every suggestion she made, accepting it with an explanation as to why. Working with him today had been like taking a hands-on master’s course in property development.

  He’d shown her things she hadn’t thought of, like the security headquarters and the places the island was approachable by boats. She’d been on the lookout for cameras, wondering if they were being watched from the forest surrounding the lake, but saw no one.

  “Did you see any reporters when we were out today?”

  He shook his head. “Did you?”

  “No. I was wondering why they seem to be leaving us alone.”

  “Oh. Kendra emailed that a pop tart had a quickie Vegas wedding the same day as your tantrum.” He raised his glass. “To unexpected deflections.”

  Tantrum indeed. “To sudden realizations.” She lifted her glass in a toast and tasted the warm richness of the full-bodied red wine. The flavors rolled over her tongue, heating her mouth and loosening her mind.

  “It will probably pick back up again when we’re back home. But it’ll fizzle after a while, and we’ll be left to ourselves.” Curtis finished his plate, tearing into a buttered roll.

  She spun the stem of the wineglass, watching the color swirl. There were still so many obstacles between them she didn’t know where to begin. Considering the emotional volatility of everything, she settled on the safest. “What will you have Kendra tell them?”

  “The press? Whatever you decide, I suppose. We could say we’re moving slower so you can get used to the media attention, and we’ll marry when it dies down.”

  “We’re not engaged anymore, contractually or otherwise.” The words exhaled on a breath.

  “Then we’ll stick with your cold feet.”

  She cleared her throat. “Are you not hearing me, or just not taking no as an answer?”

  “Robyn, we agreed not to talk about this now. We’re going to take the next few days to try on the life, see how it feels, so you can make an informed decision. I’ve accepted you want more than a business relationship, welcomed it. Why can’t you keep an open mind as well?”

  No matter what he gave her, showed her, n
othing could convince her to marry a man who wasn’t in love with her. She didn’t want a first husband, she wanted a husband. Period. No disclaimers.

  “Ice cream for dessert?” Curtis stood, taking his plate and hers.

  “I can do that.” She set her napkin on the table, starting to get up.

  “You don’t have to. You made dinner, so I can put the dishes in the sink.” He strode confidently back into the house.

  Guilt niggled at her. She hadn’t made dinner, exactly. Just warmed up the meal her roommates had packed for her, the same way she’d done the whole time. She and Curtis might live together technically, but they’d never spent a night under the same roof until they’d come here. And at home, he had a housekeeper who was brilliant in the kitchen.

  “I can’t cook,” she said as soon as Curtis returned to the veranda with a pint of ice cream and two spoons.

  “Okay.” He sat in the chair opposite her and handed her a spoon.

  “You said I made dinner, and I didn’t.” Saying the words loosened her nerves.

  “So there are elves around here who cook?” He dug into the pint, coming up with a pink and white swirled spoonful.

  “No. My roommates made the food. I just heat it up.”

  “And that’s not cooking?” The spoon disappeared between his lips.

  “No, that’s reheating.” She stared at the pint, trying to make out the flavor.

  “You’re honest to a fault, aren’t you?” Amusement flickered in his eyes.

  “Saves time.” She clutched her spoon, wondering how to get the pint away from him.

  “And yet you let people think our engagement was as real as you wanted it to be.” Again with the spoon. Really, this was a cruel form of torture.

  “I thought it was. Or would be, eventually.”

  “So at the church, what happened?”

  “A wake-up call from my delusions.” She met his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I want the ice cream.”

  He took another spoonful and then handed it over. “It’s interesting to me.”

  “I’ll bet.” Creamy cheesecake and sweet strawberries filled her mouth. Good choice.