Just for Kicks by Tracy Solheim

Seven

* * *

A PAIROF gold eyes tracked Andi as she moved about her spacious suite within Declan’s penthouse. His unit took up the entire twelfth floor of the building with floor-to-ceiling windows providing a stunning view of Lake Michigan. The rooms she was given were decorated with sleek, stylish furniture in varying shades of warm grays. Decorative pillows and throw blankets artfully scattered around the space added a few pops of color. Her sitting room housed a small fireplace beneath a stunning landscape of a castle high atop a craggy mountain with gorgeous meadows of thistle below. The place was so elegant, Andi was afraid to touch anything.

“He has a cat.”

“A cat?” Clive repeated. “Declan Fletcher doesn’t strike me as a cat guy.”

Holding her cellphone to her ear, she took a tentative step out onto the balcony that jutted out from the building, giving her a bird’s eye view of the lake. She wasn’t too fond of heights, and despite the gorgeous view of the night sky, she was uneasy being so close to the railing. Cautiously, she reached for the metal baluster, testing it for soundness.

“Well, he has a big fluffy cat who seems to worship him.”

He laughed. “Must be a female.”

“Probably. It doesn’t seem to like other females poaching on its territory.” She glanced back at the feline crouched on the top shelf of one of the bookcases bracketing the fireplace. The only part of the furry, mocha-colored animal that stirred was its eyes as they stalked Andi’s every step.

“A cat and a fireplace,” Daniel chimed in. “Sounds like you’ve found a story-book castle to live in.”

“Be careful,” Clive teased. “Most castles in story-books are spooky, and Declan Fletcher is bound to have a few scorned women haunting him.”

She wandered back inside, nearly colliding with Dex’s assistant, who was carrying a stack of fluffy white towels into the bathroom.

“He does have a female assistant,” Andi murmured into the phone once the other woman disappeared.

“I knew it.” Daniel sounded very pleased with himself. “I’m picturing Sandra Bullock from Two Weeks’ Notice. Is she hot like that?”

Marlene emerged from the bathroom, her gray curls bouncing as she walked. She pushed her wire rim glasses up on her nose and mouthed “good night” before slipping out of the room. The woman made it seem as though the women Dex brought home frequently slept in his guest suite rather than his bed. Then again, Marlene was likely paid well for her discretion.

Still, it was a relief to know there would be a chaperone around. Not that there would be any more toe-curling kisses. Dex had made that very clear. But having a matronly housekeeper living with them would certainly provide an added buffer.

“Umm, I’d put her more in the Mrs. Doubtfire category.”

Daniel groaned while Clive laughed. She made her way into the spacious bathroom. It wasn’t as large and ostentatious as the one in Las Vegas, but it still made her own bathroom look more like an outhouse in comparison.

“I can’t believe his agent already got you an interview with The Morning Blend.” Clive’s attempt to sound surprised didn’t fool her. He was a shrewd businessman and she knew what his next comment would be.

“Believe it. Apparently, we are the flavor of Labor Day weekend. And before you ask, I’m sure the name of the salon will come up. If not, I’ll make sure I mention it,” she promised, beating him to the punch.

She fingered the soap at the sink before bringing it up to her nose. The scent of sulfates and other harsh chemicals tortured her nostrils. With a disappointed sigh, she wiped her fingers on the hand towel. She’d just have to replace the soap with some of hers.

“I’m more concerned about what story you two are going to come up with to make this reporter believe you’ve been secretly in love without anyone knowing,” Clive responded. “Be sure and run the deets by us before the media starts flocking to the salon. That way, we can all get our stories straight.”

He wasn’t the only one concerned about their supposed love story. Dex and his agent were closeted in a room on the other side of the penthouse, hammering out a script. Mr. Hilbert assured her it would be very brief on details. “Less is more,” he had explained. That way the media didn’t have anything to question.

Fortunately, by the time their plane had landed in Milwaukee, those posting on social media had stopped speculating about whether or not Andi was pregnant. Whatever Mr. Hilbert had done worked. She smiled appreciatively at her reflection in the mirror just thinking about Dex’s intervention. Of course, he had likely done it to appease his parents, but she didn’t care. By setting the record straight, he’d ridden to her rescue again.

He’d slept the entire plane ride back, so she hadn’t yet had the chance to thank him. But she had a good idea how to do that now. It was her turn to hold up her end of the bargain.

Beginning with tomorrow’s interview.

The woman who was going to be introduced to Milwaukee as Mrs. Declan Fletcher would be worthy of the role. Not just for Dex, but for his family, too. Whatever his reasons for avoiding returning home, it was apparent he cared for his family and wanted to protect them. She may never get to meet them, but for the next few months, Andi would finally have relatives, so to speak, and she wasn’t about to let them down.

She fingered her hair. “I’ve got a better idea for coordinating our stories, Clive. Would you be willing to come by and do my hair and makeup before the interview tomorrow?”

“He was afraid you’d never ask,” Daniel answered for Clive. “We can even bring your things from your apartment to save you a trip.”

More likely it would give Daniel an excuse to tag along, but she wasn’t complaining. She needed the comfort of familiar faces right now.

Ten minutes later, she found herself in the luxurious study at the other end of the penthouse. The room afforded a panoramic view of the historic Third Ward of Milwaukee. Lights from the Hoan bridge twinkled in the distance as people strolled the city streets, enjoying the unofficial last weekend of summer.

The décor in this part of the apartment was definitely more masculine. An intimidating chess set dominated a side table while an actual set of bagpipes rested in the corner of the room. The instrument was yet another homage to a homeland Dex was clearly proud of, yet would do anything to avoid. But why? She doubted she’d ever get the answer to that question. At least not from the man himself. It doesn’t matter. She didn’t need to know his secrets to carry off this sham. Better to just enjoy this life of luxury while it lasted. She wandered farther into the room.

Bulky leather sofas were strategically situated in front of a big-screen TV, and a bar framed by bookcases showcasing memorabilia from Dex’s career took up one wall. Curiosity had her wandering in that direction. Nestled between the awards and footballs were photos of him spanning various years. Many were with what appeared to be teammates, but others looked to be of family. She lifted one of the frames displaying a photo of him with a young redhead whose luminous smile was so open and genuine, it made Andi ache to know her. Judging by the way Dex was gazing tenderly at her, she must be someone special.

“My baby sister, Annis,” he drawled from behind her.

Feeling a bit like she’d just been caught snooping, she started slightly. Her heart sped up when she realized how close he was. “She doesn’t look like a baby in this picture.”

The smell of eucalyptus and freshly showered male teased her senses when he reached around her and plucked the photo from her hands. He gingerly replaced it on the shelf. “She’s not but twenty-two.”

Andi wondered if he realized how his accent grew more noticeable whenever he spoke to or of his family. Turning on her heel, she all but rolled her eyes at him. “I hope you’re not trying to infer that women in their early twenties are immature?”

He had the good grace to look sheepish.

“Not to mention, I’m only three years older than your sister.”

“Since I can’t change the fact that she’s eight years younger than I am, Annis will always be a baby to me.”

Envy coursed through her, sharp and hot. How lucky that beautiful woman was to have a brother looking out for her. Even one so apparently over-protective as Declan Fletcher. Burying the pain just as she always did, Andi stepped away from him and cast her gaze at the other photos on the shelves.

“If we are going to pull off this interview, I should probably know how many brothers and sisters you have and their names.” Thanks to the Internet, she already knew Annis was his only sibling, but the question allowed her a moment to compose herself.

“It’s just me and my sister.”

She moseyed around the room, his eyes tracking her the same way his cat had earlier.

“Easy-peasy, then.” She traced a finger over the cool, smooth surface of one of the many trophies in the room.

Across the room, he cleared his throat roughly. “My parents are both teachers.”

Not surprising given the number of books lining the shelves. According to Wikipedia, both specialized in mathematics, which explained his connection to Professor Hal of the University of Nevada’s math department. Other than the names of his sister and parents and their occupations, however, the Internet wasn’t exactly a font of information on the rest of Declan Fletcher’s private life.

“Given how tight lipped you are about them, I assume we won’t be discussing the Fletcher clan during the interview tomorrow.”

“Aye.”

The word sliced through the room as though he was wielding a sword one of his ancestors likely held at one time. She risked a peek at him. He was leaning a hip against the bar, arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His face was inscrutable, but his posture looked as if he was ready to pounce. Certainly not on her given his no kissing decree. She wasn’t sure whether it was relief she felt, or something else, when his agent strolled into the room.

“For tomorrow’s interview, I want you both to kiss,” he announced as he took a seat on one of the sofas. “We’re going to Keep. It. Simple.”

He gestured for both of them to sit. Andi sagged with relief onto the opposite sofa, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed the man wasn’t referring to actual kissing. Dex joined her at the other end. Mr. Hilbert eyed them both before heaving an exasperated sigh.

“For the interview tomorrow, let’s try sitting closer together and putting out a vibe that you like one another. Clearly, you two know how to do that or we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

She opened her mouth to note that Dex had started their kiss—both times—but quickly thought better of it. With the photo as evidence, it was hard to argue she wasn’t a willing participant. Instead, she sank lower into the leather cushion and kept her lips tightly sealed. She mentally patted herself on the back. Clearly, she was evolving if she was thinking before she spoke.

“Nancy Miles may be the darling of Milwaukee’s morning television, but she is a thorough reporter.” Mr. Hilbert aimed a pointed look her way. “She’s likely already uncovered Dex’s issues with ICE. And if she doesn’t ask about it tomorrow, it’s only a matter of time before the news gets out.”

Andi nearly leapt from the couch.

“If that’s the case, then everyone will know we are committing a crime.” She couldn’t help it. She turned and glared at Dex. “This is bad. Very bad.”

“Actually, it’s not as bad as you think,” Mr. Hilbert interjected. “Dex and I have discussed it, and he agrees it’s probably best to meet this head on.”

“Head on?” Her gaze ricocheted between the two men. Not only was she peeved they’d discussed something so serious without her, but she had a sinking feeling that both men had lost their minds. “What exactly does that mean? ‘Meet this head on.’”

“It means that I will confess to my negligence in getting my paperwork renewed.” Dex explained. Although his tone suggested he’d rather endure a colonoscopy than admit to anything that would paint him as inept. “But I’ll play it off as providing me with the kick in the arse I needed to persuade you, the love of my life, to marry me.”

“The love of my life?” She all but snorted before gesturing to her pink hair and second-hand clothing. “Who in their right mind is going to believe that?”

“Hear me out, Andi,” Mr. Hilbert tried to placate her. “The media and football fans are chomping at the bit for the story behind your surprise marriage. We have to get ahead of it and give them our version of the story first. Once we do that tomorrow, along with a cutesy photo shoot, they will have nothing else to snoop around for, and all this unwanted attention will go away.”

He made it sound so easy. She felt some of her agitation dissipate. But not all of it.

“But isn’t it possible that the more we say publicly, the greater the chances someone will figure out we are lying?”

Mr. Hilbert heaved an exasperated sigh. “We are being truthful with the most crucial part. Dex needed to get married to stay in the country. Trust me, that’s the only thing Growlers’ fans will care about. This team plays in a very tight division. Dex’s leg often makes the difference between making the playoffs or not. The fans will worship you for your part in all of this.” His voice grew gentler. “And my mother was right. There is no law that says you have to be in love to get married. There really isn’t a crime here.”

She pondered the agent’s arguments. He presented a strong case. She slumped back against the sofa. “So how do we make them believe that someone like me is—” Her mouth was suddenly very dry. “The love of his life?”

“Fortunately, you both have similar charitable interests. We’ll say you met through those,” Mr. Hilbert explained.

“Charitable interests?” She didn’t give to charity. Heck, she was practically a charity case herself.

“I’m referring to your volunteer work at the Barbara Vey Center for Teens.” The attorney glanced through his pages of notes. “Is the information correct that you help students apply for grants and financial aid for college?”

“That’s not charity,” she argued. “That’s helping kids who grew up like me to navigate the system.”

Mr. Hilbert’s face softened. “All the same. It’s a very generous thing to do. And it happens to be where Dex volunteers each week.”

She turned her attention to her fake husband who was sitting stone-faced on his end of the sofa. The Vey Center was located in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city. Altruistic celebrities were happy to throw money at the area, but as far as one of them actually stepping a toe in the ward for more than a photo op, that was unheard of.

Except . ..

She jumped up from the sofa and charged toward the chess set. It had to be. She whirled back around to face the two men. “Professor McMath. It didn’t click when Hal called you that at the casino. You organized a chess club with the kids. And you coach the math team.” She didn’t bother tempering the amazement in her voice, because, well, she was amazed. Dex was practically a folk hero among the youth and the staff at the Vey Center. Her laughter rang with wonder. “Well, that explains why all the girls have a sudden interest in chess.”

For his part, he looked a little uncomfortable. “You know I don’t like to publicize my work there, Kurt. That’s not why I do it.”

“We’ve been over this. It’s the only scenario that makes sense,” Mr. Hilbert reminded him.

Dex scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fine.” He leveled a steely gaze at Andi. “But we keep the details light. Just that we met while doing charity work with Milwaukee’s youth. I don’t want television cameras in my face the next time I go over to the center.”

Since she wanted to protect the privacy of the kids as well, she was fine with keeping the details vague. “Agreed.”

Mr. Hilbert pulled a small jewelry box out of his briefcase and gingerly placed it on the table. “Here is the rest of your costume.”

Dex drew in a sharp breath. His agent held up his hand, forestalling any discussion.

“I know you said no rings, but that was before this was public. The wife of a professional athlete does not walk around without a significant piece of ice on her finger.”

He flipped the lid of the box open, and Andi wasn’t surprised they all weren’t immediately blinded.

“That’s not a piece of ice,” she choked out. “That’s an actual iceberg!” Her heart began to race. “I can’t wear that. What if I lose it? I can’t pay to replace it.”

“Relax,” Mr. Hilbert said. “It’s insured.” He slid the box in her direction. “See if it fits.”

Her fingers were shaking when she pulled the gorgeous ring from its velvet cushion. The oval diamond was the size of a freaking lima bean. Surely, it would look ridiculous on her tiny hand. Except it didn’t. The ring slid on her finger perfectly, almost as though it was made for her. A soft sigh escaped her lips before she could catch it.

Mr. Hilbert chuckled. “Diamonds have that effect on women.” He gathered up his notes as he stood. “I’ll just leave you two to work out what details you do want to share. But remember my advice. Keep it simple. I’ll be here before the television crew arrives tomorrow.”

With a quick wave, he made his way out of the room.

Dex sighed. “I don’t suppose we could get lucky enough that a politician will do something stupid tonight and knock us right out of the news cycle?”

She was so enthralled by the ring on her finger, she almost didn’t hear him. “We can always hope.”

The chess pieces suddenly went flying, startling Andi. She looked over to see the cat smugly sweeping its tail over the now empty chessboard.

He scolded the animal in an unfamiliar language. “Ignore her. She’s a brat when she’s not the center of attention.”

“She’s beautiful.”

As if to refute the statement, the cat lifted her hind leg and began licking herself.

“She’s a sassy witch,” Dex replied.

“Does she have a name?”

“Morag. It’s Gaelic for great.”

At the sound of her name, the cat sat majestically, waiting to be adored.

Well then.The feline obviously felt the need to live up to her pretentious moniker.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Morag.” She reached over to pet her.

“Don’t!” he warned.

Too late. Andi let out a yelp of pain when Morag slashed her hand, breaking the skin. Dex was on his feet and beside her in one fluid motion. He swatted the air in front of the cat with a violent curse. Morag let out her own yowl of displeasure before strutting away as if she were walking a fashion runway, her tail held high in a mocking salute.

“Let me see,” he demanded, taking her hand in his.

She tried to pull free. “It’s fine.” A total lie. It actually hurt like hell, but she’d learned long ago to never let anyone see her pain.

“Damn it, lass. It’s not fine. You’re bleeding.” He adjusted his grip so he could tug her out of the room. “Marlene keeps a first-aid kit in the kitchen.”

“Great. I’ll have her help me out then.” The less he touched her, the better. The skin beneath his fingers burned more than the stupid scratch by his not-so-friendly feline.

He led her into the kitchen adjacent to the great room. Decked out with professional stainless-steel appliances and concrete counters over dark wood cabinets, the room should have looked cold and foreboding. But the copper pots hanging from a ceiling rack along with an overgrown fern brightened the place up. A plate of homemade cookies sitting beneath a glass cover added that extra homey touch.

“Marlene has already gone home.”

“Home? You mean she doesn’t live here?”

He shoved her hand beneath the faucet and, with a tap to the chrome, water began to bath her injured skin. “Of course not. She lives with her husband downstairs.”

Andi swallowed a gulp. Her presumed buffer was nowhere to be found, and Dex had his hands on her. Again. Ever so gently, he caressed the skin Morag had slashed open. The warm water and his gentle probing had her nerve endings dancing with desire. She bit back a contented sigh.

You fool!

It certainly didn’t take long for her worst-case scenario to come true. Any moment now, she’d be a puddle on the kitchen floor. She yanked her hand from his in a desperate attempt to regain her long-lost composure.

“I’ve got this.” The words came out with a little more force than was necessary.

He seemed to come to his senses at the same time, putting some distance between them as he searched the cabinets for the first-aid kit.

“Morag must put a damper on your social life if she attacks every woman you bring home.”

“You’re the only woman she’s ever scratched.”

Of course.Andi couldn’t halt the slump of her shoulders. The fickle feline likely bonded with other catty beauties possessing brightly manicured claws and significant thigh gaps who paraded in and out of Dex’s penthouse. A pink alley cat with questionable lineage? Not so much. She dried her hands slowly with a paper towel, ignoring the glitter of the ring on her finger, flashing like a warning beacon telling her to get away as quickly as possible.

“She hasn’t been given the opportunity because I’ve never brought a woman here.”

Shocked by his admission, she spun around to face him. His face was averted, however, as he rummaged through the kit, presumably for a bandage.

“As you’ve already surmised,” he continued. “I value my privacy.”

He handed her a tube of antibacterial ointment. She slathered a small dollop on the scratch.

“The women I’ve been with understand the game plan upfront.”

His softly uttered words sounded eerily like a warning. A shiver danced down her spine. He peeled open one of the bandages and dangled it between his fingers for her to take. When she struggled to adhere it to the wound one-handed, he took over. He smoothed the bandage with his thumb, keeping his gaze fixed on her hand. His fingers lingered as well for several long heart beats before he lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over the bandage. Andi’s stomach bottomed out as she tried, and failed, to swallow a gasp. At the sound, he lifted his gaze. The passion simmering within his stormy eyes stole her breath. But it was the sorrow lurking within them that had her head spinning.

“You have to know I’m attracted to you, lass. But I can’t act on it. We can’t act on it. Because in six months, this is over. Happy ever after will never be for me. So don’t go setting your heart on it. I’m not a good gamble. Not for someone like you. Ye ken?” He dropped her hand. “Get some sleep, lass. We’ve a busy day of pretend ahead of us tomorrow.”