Alec’s nostrils flared. “Better stick with the gold.”

“It’s champagne.”

“Not the red, and definitely not the black.”

“Fine.” She put the red one back, wishing she was brave enough to ask about the phone call. Was he leaving? And why had he mentioned her brothers? “What about a long cigarette holder?” she asked instead.

“Absolutely not. You’re pregnant.”

“Shhhh.” She glanced quickly around, worried someone would overhear.

He moved closer, leaning down to whisper. “You’re pregnant.”

“I wouldn’t really smoke anything.”

“Don’t even joke about it.”

“Who was on the phone?” she blurted out.

“A friend.”

“Does he know my brothers?”

Alec’s brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” she lied, glancing away. “I thought it might be about the Ryder International review. Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“You trying to get rid of me?”

She looked back up at him again, puzzling over why he’d hold back the truth about the phone call. If the friend didn’t know her brothers, Alec wouldn’t have mentioned their names. “I need to get Wesley prepared,” she told him.

Alec’s jaw tightened, eyes squinting further. “I’m staying.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

He gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment.

Moving away from yet another uncomfortable moment, she gestured to the rack of suits. “Did you find something to wear?”

“I’m not wearing pinstripes.”

“How about a hat?” She selected one with a center dent and a wide, satin band and tried to place it on his head.

He jerked sideways, out of the way. “How about a suit jacket and a pair of slacks, and I write a check big enough that nobody cares?”

Seven

Chandeliers dangled from the ballroom ceiling, while massive ice sculptures and floral arrangements decorated white linen tables. The waiters wore period tuxedoes, and a big band played a jazz tune on a low stage in one corner of the room.

On Alec’s arm, Stephanie glittered. Her rich, auburn hair bounced in a halo of tight curls to her bare shoulders. It was pulled back on one side by an elaborate, rhinestone clip, which matched her ornate necklace and dangling earrings. Her makeup had been done in a bright twenties-style, and the shimmering, champagne dress clung to her lithe body.

Alec couldn’t help a surge of pride as people turned to stare. His marriage might be a sham, but he was the envy of every man in the room.

He leaned down to whisper. “You should dress up like a girl more often.”

“They’re not looking at me,” she whispered back, smiling politely at the onlookers.

“Yes, they are.” More people turned to stare.

Up to now, it hadn’t occurred to Alec to wonder how Stephanie had made it to twenty-two as a virgin. But now it sure did. He also realized men would be lining up to take his place the minute he was out of the picture.

It was not a pleasant thought.

“They’ve heard,” she told him in an undertone.

“Heard what?”

“About us. That we got married.”

He disagreed. “It’s you.” Still, at the mention of his temporary position, he couldn’t stop himself from curling his arm around the small of her back.

“Oh, sure,” she mocked. “Really give them something to talk about.”

“I could give you a kiss.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Just playing my part.”

“Play it from over there.” She quickly sidestepped out of his embrace.

He followed, snagging her around the waist once more. “And how will that be convincing?”

“Give it your best effort.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he drawled.

“Stephanie,” purred a woman in a floor-length, peacock-blue, sequined gown. She swept in front of them with a flourish, looking to be about sixty-five, though very well preserved. Her streaked blond hair was decorated with blue feathers, and she brandished a matching fan like a weapon.

“Mrs. Cleary,” Stephanie greeted with a smile, and the woman’s gaze immediately jumped to Alec. She raised her sculpted brows.

“This is my husband, Alec Creighton,” Stephanie supplied smoothly.

Alec liked the sound of that. He let his hand slip to hers, and he stroked the pad of his thumb across her diamond ring and the matching wedding band.

Stephanie jolted her hand away. “Mrs. Cleary is the president of the Brighton Fund-raising Committee.” The tone told him he ought to be impressed.

“A pleasure, Mrs. Cleary.” He gave her a warm smile and used his newly freed hand to shake with her.

She checked him over carefully. “Please, call me Bridget.”

“Bridget,” he obliged.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” The words were more an accusation than a tribute.

“Indeed, they are.” Alec drew Stephanie firmly to his side, feeling her soft curves beneath the sexy dress. There was no law telling him he couldn’t enjoy his acting role. “We’re looking forward to starting a family.”

He felt her stiffen, but how could she complain? He was simply smoothing the pathway for the inevitable announcement of her pregnancy.

“Stephanie?” came a second voice, a younger woman this time. “Are you going to introduce me?” She offered Alec a gleaming white, perfectly straight orthodontic smile.

She looked to be in her late twenties and wore a bright purple, beaded dress, and a matching headband. She held a long cigarette holder, and her blond hair was upswept in a riot of curls. Her lashes were dark with heavy makeup, and she wore fishnet stockings with high-heeled, black shoes accented by an oversize silver buckle on the sexy ankle strap.

In another time and another place, he would have smiled right back at the undeniably beautiful woman. She was the stuff of erotic dreams. But Alec found he preferred Stephanie’s more understated look. And it wasn’t just the fake husband in him speaking. Interesting.

“Rene,” Stephanie greeted, her voice slightly tight, features carefully neutral. “This is my husband, Alec.”

There was a proprietary inflection on the word husband. Nice.

“Pleasure to meet you, Alec the husband,” Rene giggled as she extended the back of her hand, wiggling her fingers in an obvious invitation.

He ignored the hint, and shook her hand instead of kissing the back.

She gave a mock pout with her jewel-red lips.

A tall, thin man appeared. He wore an outrageous purple velvet coat with leopard-print trim and matching slacks.

“Rene,” he admonished, from beneath a broad brimmed hat. Then he glared a warning at Alec.

Alec had to bite down hard to keep from laughing. It was tough to take a man seriously when he was dressed like a sitcom pimp.

“Alec Creighton,” he said instead and extended his hand. “I believe our wives know each other.”

The man’s eyes went round.

“Wife?” Rene cackled. “That’ll be the day.”

“My apologies,” said Alec. Then he smiled warmly down at Stephanie. “But I highly recommend it.” He glanced back at the man. “You should think about asking her.”

The man looked like a deer in the headlights.

Alec could feel Stephanie’s body vibrate with repressed laughter.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Alec asked her.

“Dance,” she sputtered, grabbing Alec’s arm and turning him away from Rene.

Alec quickly took the lead as they wove their way through the crowd. “You are bad,” Stephanie accused.

“They deserved it. So, who is she?”

“She’s the princess of the circuit. Her father owns a stable of jumping horses.”

“Big deal. So do you.”

Stephanie snorted out a laugh. “Not like he does.”

Alec drew her into his arms and swung her into the latest song in a Duke Ellington tribute. “You’re not intimidated are you?”

“By Rene?” Stephanie easily followed his lead.

“Yes.” He waited. He’d learned to recognize it when she was stalling.

She paused. “Maybe once. She’s been glamorous since she was twelve.”

“You’re glamorous now.”

Stephanie coughed out a laugh. “Not like her.”

Alec let his hand trail along the smooth silk of Stephanie’s dress, letting the tactile memory remind him of exactly how gorgeous she’d looked walking out of her hotel bedroom earlier. She’d positively taken his breath away.

Now, his voice went husky. “Better than her.”

She didn’t answer, but she seemed to mold slightly closer against him. He gathered her tight, ignoring the warning that was sounding in his brain.

“Besides,” he forced himself to joke. “She’s obviously jealous of your husband.”

“Ego, Alec?”

“A man can tell these things.”

“Because she was flirting with you?”

“Exactly.”

Stephanie chuckled. “She flirts with everyone.”

“I’m quite a catch,” he protested, telling himself to put a little distance between their bodies.

He ignored himself.

“You have quite the ego.”

“Part of my charm.”

“You have charm?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he savored the feel of her in his arms, inhaling the scent of her hair, letting the haunting strains of a saxophone solo carry them away.

“I suppose you do,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Have charm.”

He drew back. “You’re conceding a point?”

“You also have looks,” she continued. “But you already know that. Every woman in the room is envious of me right now.”

“You mean every man is envious of me.” He drew a breath. “How is it,” he struggled to frame the question that had been nagging at him for weeks. “That you stayed a virgin all those years?”

“I don’t get out much.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Stephanie?”

She shrugged against him. “I honestly never had any offers.”

Now that was ridiculous. He chuckled low. “Maybe there weren’t any verbal offers. But, trust me, there were offers. You’ve had at least two dozen since you walked into this room.”