Propositioned by the Billionaire Moose Read online

  Yet…he couldn’t help but believe she was softening and as intrigued as he was.

  So intrigued Bryce had done something he’d never thought he’d do. He’d stalked a woman under the guise of reconnaissance. He’d discreetly shadowed Melanie home the day before, the only way of finding out where she worked or lived. Only then did he manage to set his secretary on a background search.

  What he discovered deepened the mystery. First, Melanie Rusch wasn’t a native of Towering Oaks. Her mother had moved here about three years ago—a year after her daughter left for college, and Maizie got booted for non-payment of rent.

  Since arriving in Towering Oaks, Maizie Rusch had been evicted from two more properties and would have added a third to that if she hadn’t fallen ill.

  Which was where Melanie came in. She’d been in town several months now. She’d worked a few part-time jobs, but discreet inquiries as to why they didn’t last long resulted in one simple answer: The mother.

  Mother Rusch constantly called and harassed, making it impossible for Melanie to do her job.

  What a prize.

  His digging also revealed Melanie was single, with no social media to speak of, although he did manage to find a picture of her at college, smiling happily during exam week, a kitten in her lap as part of the college’s de-stressing programs.

  His obsession with her was a tad crazy. He could argue all he wanted that she was perfect for the sham, yet, the more he dug, the more curious he found himself about the woman—and the cat.

  How had she come by her lynx side? He’d have to meet the mother in person to be sure, but he’d wager it wasn’t her since the woman had never presented herself upon arriving in town, which was in clear defiance of the rules all shifters abided by.

  Which left the missing father. A man not named on paper. Not even on the birth record he’d managed to have dug up.

  Unknown.

  What man left behind his child?

  I’d never do it. Bryce might be many things, including an arrogant liar who was determined to pull the wool over his grandfather’s eyes, but he did take his responsibilities seriously. So seriously he was prepared to marry a stranger.

  A woman he felt compelled to see, which was why he told his secretary he had to leave early.

  Exiting the building, he paused. He couldn’t have said why except something nagged him. Tugged him into turning. He spotted her across the street, chin tilted upwards, staring at the office building, chewing her lower lip.

  Only one reason for her to be here.

  Me.

  He strode across the street, confidence oozing and stopping traffic. Melanie caught sight of him halfway, and he could see by her startled expression she thought about running.

  She came close.

  Then her shoulders straightened, and he could almost see resolve pouring from her.

  “Hello,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her, hands shoved in his pockets. “Did you come to see me?”

  “No.”

  “Are you really going to lie?”

  She sighed. “Fine. You caught me. I came to see you.”

  “Did you make a decision?”

  Even the thought of it had him tingling, and he might have let out an exuberant whoop when she announced, “I’ll become your fake wife.”

  Chapter 8

  She’d done it. Agreed to marry a virtual stranger on the promise he’d make her life worth living again.

  And what did he do? Said, “Excellent. I’ll have a lawyer friend draw up the terms of our agreement.”

  Probably the most unromantic thing she’d ever heard, and yet, what did she expect? He never claimed to propose out of love. Which suited her fine. This would be a business arrangement, pure and simple. The fact that seeing him made her pulse race and her blood run hot meant nothing. Nothing except she obviously needed to get out more, because she shouldn’t find herself attracted to a pompous rich boy who’d, in essence, bought her services, and the first thing expected of her was dinner tonight at his home with his family.

  Over fancy coffee—which Bryce paid for—at a posh little café with intimate booths, he’d given her a brief outline of his expectations.

  Dress nice. Be polite. Pretend affection for him. Go along with anything he said.

  “Should I walk behind you three paces, too?” she couldn’t help but drawl when he took a breath.

  “Only if you’re admiring my ass,” he’d replied, making her blush.

  As to a backstory. They would stick to the facts with a twist. They met in a coffee shop and were smitten. The engagement would come in a few days.

  “Isn’t that too soon?” Melanie queried.

  “Not if we were smitten at first sight.”

  She snorted. “No one will believe that of you.”

  “They will if we play our parts right. We just have to be careful we don’t come across too fake.”

  “Gee, more fake than you proposing to a stranger?” She blew a raspberry before taking a sip of an espresso that had enough caffeine to keep her awake into next week.

  “Some of the best love stories have started with a chance encounter.”

  Except they weren’t in love.

  “What if someone calls us out?”

  “And says what?” he asked with an arch of his brow. “My grandfather told me to get married. Given he knows I’m not seeing anyone seriously, your sudden appearance won’t bother him at all.”

  “What if he hates me?”

  At that, Bryce laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about that. One sniff and he is going to love you.”

  Sniff? Weird family. She hoped his granddad liked the smell of baby powder deodorant because she didn’t own any perfume.

  Nor did she possess clothes that would suit a fancy dinner for that matter. Not that she said anything to Bryce. Just because she’d agreed to the deal didn’t mean she’d start begging. Heck, she still had no idea what kind of benefit she’d get out of it. So far, she’d gotten good coffee and a chance to feel giddy. Excited. Hot.

  Her inner feline wanted to purr and rub herself all over the man. Had he bathed in catnip?

  Despite the fact this was purely business, he managed to make her laugh and smile. A smile that waned once he dropped her off, because he insisted on taking her home.

  Not only had he shown tenacity in hunting down her phone number, he knew where she lived. He fit the definition of a stalker. Oddly enough, it felt more endearing than frightening, which might explain why so few women called the cops when good-looking men did it.

  Only as Bryce left did he remind her he’d be picking her up at six. Leaving her two hours to not look dirt poor and terrified.

  Having spent too much time away, she wasn’t surprised to hear mother bellowing the moment she walked in the door. “Where have you been? Ungrateful chit.”

  So ungrateful, Melanie might have bargained her soul to dig them out of the pit they were in.

  “I was running errands,” she said as she dropped her purse on the scarred coffee table.

  “What did you bring me?”

  A loaded syringe? Only in her dreams. She carried the Styrofoam container with her leftovers into the room.

  “What’s that?” Maizie’s blood-shot eyes, tinged in yellow, narrowed in suspicion. “Did you steal from me to buy it?”

  “I didn’t steal. I saw a friend while in town, and they took me for coffee. I brought you a treat.”

  “Friend, what friend?” Mother snapped. “You have no friends. Because you’re pathetic.” Said the woman who’d yet to get a single visit or phone call.

  “Do you want it or not?” Melanie asked, holding out the container with the frosted Danish.

  “No.” Maizie slapped her hand, sending the box flying. Then began to harangue.

  Shutting her ears to it, Melanie left the room, but she could still hear it. All the reasons why she was a failure.

  Mother was still loudly complaining when she went to answer a firm knock a
t the door. While hoping for a man in a robe with a scythe, she instead confronted a thickset woman with a kind face wearing scrubs patterned with cartoons.

  Melanie scrunched her nose, especially since her inner kitty hissed and seemed to think the mild-looking woman in front of her was a threat. “Um, can I help you?”

  “Miss Rusch I presume. I’m Martha. Mr. Elanroux sent me.”

  “Sent you?” Struck a little dumb, it took her a moment of staring at the stethoscope around the woman’s neck to feel a faint prick of hope.

  “Apparently you’re in need of a companion for your mother. One with medical training.”

  Melanie could still hear the bitching from the bedroom and stepped into the hall, shutting the door. “I don’t know if you want to do this. My mother can be”—a cunt, a mean vindictive bitch—“difficult.”

  The nurse reached out to grab her hands. “Don’t you worry, little sweetie. I’ve handled bigger grumbly bears than her. Mr. Elanroux sent me to help, and by the sounds of it, you could use a break. I hear you’ve got a date.”

  “Yes, but—” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the door.

  The hands around hers squeezed. “No buts. Why don’t you go get ready? I’ll handle your mother.”

  Martha seemed determined, so why did Melanie argue? Wasn’t this why she’d made the deal with Bryce in the first place?

  Swinging open the door, Melanie stepped inside before she pointed. “She’s in there.”

  Martha smiled as she swept past, the scent of her clean, with a hint of something woodsy. “Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

  Don’t worry. That was all Melanie did. Yet, she didn’t move as Martha entered her mother’s room. She listened.

  “Who are you?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Rusch. I’m Martha, a home care specialist.”

  “I don’t need no home care shit. Get out of my room.”

  “I can’t leave, Mrs. Rusch. I’m here to give your daughter a hand.”

  “Did that lazy cow hire you? I knew she was stealing from me.”

  “Your daughter is a lovely young lady. You shouldn’t be calling her names. A mama should be proud of her cub. Now what do you say we get some fresh air and light in here.”

  “Don’t touch that curtain. Get out. You’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me. Now sit still so I can take your temperature with my ear thermometer.”

  “No.” Crash.

  Melanie winced.

  “Well, that wasn’t very nice.” The nurse remained firm. “Now we’ll have to do a rectal reading.”

  Melanie might have listened longer to the soap opera except there was another knock at the door.

  Now what?

  Bemused, she answered it and immediately had a package thrust at her. “Delivery for Ms. Rusch.”

  No signature required meant the guy trotted off down the hall. She slammed the door shut and looked at the box, embossed with the name of a chic boutique. Not a place she could ever shop at.

  Inside…

  “Oh my.” From undergarments to an outfit that probably cost more than her last few paychecks combined.

  He’d thought of everything.

  If she were a girl who believed in fairy tales, she’d have felt like a princess, which meant it was important to remind herself that he was more like the fairy godmother. Giving her all the tools she needed to feel like a princess, but once midnight hit, and he didn’t need her anymore, she’d go back to being an impoverished Cinderella.

  But while it lasted, she planned to dance.

  When Bryce arrived at six on the nose, she was ready. The outfit—a slim-fitting skirt that hit just past her knees, and a soft sweater—was elegant yet casual. So she’d opted for the same with her hair. Washing and drying it then brushing it until it crackled. A hairclip held it out of her face but left most of it loose. Her makeup was minimal, mostly because she didn’t own much other than eyeliner, mascara, and lip-gloss.

  As for shoes, the ones he’d sent were thankfully low heeled and, while a bit big, wearable.

  She found herself ready far too soon, which meant she had time to panic and regret her decision. Then she’d listened to Martha strong-arm her mother into the shower then into eating her dinner and couldn’t help but think, “This is nice.” Nice that she wasn’t the one playing unpaid nursemaid.

  Also nice was the fact she was going out.

  I am going on a date. With a man. Even if it was fake, it was the most exciting thing to happen to her in a while.

  She swung open the door a scant second after his first brisk knock. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she found herself tongue-tied, mostly because he looked ridiculously good. Wearing slacks and a beige sweater that complemented her baby blue one, he looked casual yet delicious.

  We should have a lick. Her inner kitty knew what it wanted to do, especially since he smelled like vanilla—and something else.

  There she was thinking there was something familiar about his scent. Something kind of untamed and wild, that made her think of the forest.

  “You look stunning,” he declared as he thrust a bouquet of flowers at her.

  She blinked. “Um, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “How would it look if I arrived for our date empty-handed?”

  “But no one is watching.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Someone is always watching.”

  “Is that Brycie I hear?” An excited Martha exited the bedroom and beamed at Bryce. “There’s the handsome boy.” She enveloped him in a bear hug that almost lifted him off his feet.

  She mouthed, Brycie?

  He offered her a sheepish grin over Martha’s shoulder. “I see you’ve met, Martha. She lived with us for a while when my mom was sick.”

  “Five years,” Martha expanded. “And I got to know this cheeky monkey. How is your old coot of a grandfather? I hear he’s not feeling so good.”

  “Recovering, but slowly. I wanted to bring you back to care for him but—”

  Martha interrupted. “Let me guess, he didn’t want a woman washing his manly parts.”

  A grin pulled at his lips. “He hasn’t changed much.”

  “But you have,” she said. “You’ve lost weight since I last saw you.” Martha patted his stomach. “Are you working too hard again?”

  He shrugged. “No more than usual.

  “You better teach this boy to relax.” Martha turned her gaze on Melanie. “But what am I doing, yapping your ear off. You two run along and have fun. And don’t you worry about your mama. I’ve got it handled.”

  For a moment, Melanie debated introducing Bryce to Maizie then thought better of it. No good would come of it.

  They left her apartment and took the stairs because the elevator was on the fritz again. They didn’t say much until they hit the pavement outside.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “For the clothes. The help.”

  “That’s just the start, kitten.”

  She blinked at the nickname. Surely a coincidence. “Martha seems competent, and nice.”

  “She is, but unfortunately, she is only temporary,” he said. “On such short notice she was the only one who could come. But good news, I’ve got a new nurse coming in the morning. She, along with two others, will work on rotating shifts to care for your mom.”

  “All the time?”

  “I got the impression your mother needed it.”

  “She does, but…” What of her privacy? Bad enough she slept on the couch, how would having a third person constantly around work?

  “I see the gears in your head whirring. Talk to me,” he ordered.

  Did he seriously think she’d spill her thoughts because he asked? “It’s just so extravagant. I can do some of the work, too, you know.”

  “So what do you want?”

  She shrugged, mostly because she didn’t know. People didn’t usually ask. Mother usually screamed. “Maybe a few hours each day for myself.”


  He frowned. “That doesn’t seem like enough. And you’ll need to make time for me in the evening if we’re going to make this believable.”

  “Just how believable do you think we can be? We just met.”

  “Well, for starters, it would help if you didn’t shy away every time I got near.”

  “I don’t shy—” He moved close to her, and she took a step away.

  “See what I mean? Do I scare you?”

  “Yes.” She blurted out the word before she could stop it. “It’s just you’re so…”

  “Awesome. Magnificent. Virile.”

  “Overwhelming. Like a bull rushing in, bowling me over and not giving me a chance to catch my breath.”

  His lips quirked. “Shouldn’t a woman in love be breathless?”

  She tossed him a side eye. “Except we’re not in love, and at times, you’re too much. Like the whole nurse thing. I appreciate it, really I do, but would it have killed you to consult me rather than making all the decisions yourself?”

  “But then you would have said no, or second-guessed it, and it was just better if I did it for you.”

  Which funny enough was exactly what she’d wanted a few days ago, and yet now she argued against it. “I’d like a say in the things that affect me.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do insist, or this charade isn’t going to work long.” She paused beside the car door he opened.

  “You need to relax.”

  “I am relaxed.”

  “Really?”

  She didn’t expect him to lunge and grab her around the waist, his hands spanning it, pulling her against his larger frame.

  The move startled and her breath caught. She tilted her face to see him staring down at her. “What are you doing?”

  “You are like a skittish kitten around me.”

  He had no idea how true that was. Meanwhile her inner kitty was practically swooning in excitement. It wanted her to get closer. To rub her scent all over him. To lick him…

  She tried to draw away, but he held her firmly. “I’m not used to people touching me.” Maizie didn’t believe in affection or hugs. The only time her mother touched was to give a cuff on the back of the head to move faster.