Chapter 11

Cassandra hadn’t been to this store. Someone had purchased her and Eric a present from here. She remembered the box, but she couldn’t remember what had been inside. That time was such a blur, except for the overwhelming emotions.

Tonight, she noticed this place smelled like money.

Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want to be here.

This wasn’t where she would shop. Not ever. She much preferred discount stores, but she had a sinking feeling this was exactly the kind of place where Troy would register when he got engaged for real. She didn’t blame him for that based on what he wanted out of life.

As they rode the escalator to the third floor, she glimpsed his reflection in the mirrors to her left.

Dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, Troy looked like a successful businessman. He was gorgeous.

Not her type of guy?

What a joke.

His desire to be wealthy didn’t cause her attraction to wane at all. Especially after he’d explained about growing up without money, without presents under the Christmas tree. He might be like Eric, but Troy had his own motivations behind his goals.

Still, she shouldn’t have come tonight.

Not only because of registering and how sick she felt taking the fake engagement farther, but also because of Troy. He haunted her thoughts and her dreams. Everything reminded her of him. No matter how hard she tried to stop thinking about him, she couldn’t. His first kiss that morning in the breakfast nook reminded her of coffee so much she’d been drinking herbal tea instead.

Cassandra wet her dry lips.

After years of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, she had finally let her true self come through. She had no regrets, other than she wished she’d done this sooner. Once her family stopped interfering, she would be happy. Nothing else was needed in her life, including a relationship. At least that was what she had believed. No, still believed.

He stood below her on the escalator. One step. Too close, if she was being honest.

Her forehead throbbed. That happened when she thought about Troy, but she wasn’t about to massage her temples in front of him. She clutched the black handrail instead.

His worrying about her last night was sweet, but her family’s concern was more than enough for her to deal with right now. She didn’t want anyone else—especially a guy—telling her what she should be doing.

When they reached the second floor, she stepped from the escalator. The china department was straight ahead. She moved to the side so Troy wouldn’t bump into her. He grabbed her hand.

Fluttery sensations spread through her. Holding hands meant nothing. Just an act. Yet, even as she told herself that, her fingers wanted to lace with his.

Get a grip. The sheepish gleam in his gaze was impossible to miss. “Always the perfect fiancé, aren’t you?”

“I try.” He tried too hard, but not for her. This was all about her mom being here, too.

Cassie lowered her gaze to their linked hands. Hers fit snugly in his, too snugly for her own good. She bit back a sigh.

She pulled her hand away, but he wouldn’t let go. “You can let go. I don’t see my mother.”

Troy kept holding Cassandra’s hand. “Your mom is here somewhere.”

Temper spiraling, Cassandra took a breath and then another. Now wasn’t the time for an argument. If he wanted her mother to see them holding hands, so be it. “What time is it?”

“Seven o’clock on the nose.”

“My mother’s always on time. Maybe she went to the ladies’ room.”

Cassandra looked around. A discreet Bridal Registry sign sat on a cherry Queen Anne writing desk. Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” played on speakers hidden in the ceiling. The place—elegant and refined—reeked of wealth.

Troy tilted his head toward the desk. “Maybe we should check in.”

A tall, model-thin woman met them halfway. Her stylish lime dress belonged in the pages of Vogue and looked fabulous against her darker skin. Her hair was braided in an intricate pattern. She was beautiful. “My name is Mercedes. May I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Cassandra Daniels.” She forced a smile. “This is Troy McKnight, my, uh…”

“Her fiancé.” Troy shook Mercedes’s hand. “We have an appointment.”

“Oh, Ms. Daniels and Mr. McKnight.” Mercedes’s pearly smile spread across her face. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, do have a seat.”

“My mother, Vanessa Daniels, is meeting us here.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Mercedes waved her hand, and a jasmine perfume scented the air. “Your mother can’t make it tonight. She said she would call or leave you a message.”

Cassandra checked her phone and saw a text from her mom. She hadn’t turned up the volume on her phone after she’d left the bookstore so had missed the notification.

Mom: Sorry, sweetie. I can’t get to the store tonight, but I know you’ll have fun with Troy. We can finish up another day.

No way was Cassandra returning here. She unmuted her phone, tucked it in her bag, and then looked at Troy. “She messaged me. Something came up. I’m sorry I didn’t check sooner.”

“This happens all the time,” Mercedes said without missing a beat. “Mothers like to be involved, but you know your tastes the best. We can find the perfect items to fit your lifestyle.”

“Thank you, but we should reschedule.” Cassandra tried to sound disappointed. If she could push off registering until after the party, they’d never have to do this. “My mother wanted to be a part of this.”

“I understand, but you’re both here now. Why don’t we get the preliminaries out of the way? You can get a feel for what’s available, see what you like, and things will go quicker the next time you’re here.” Mercedes sat behind the desk. “That way, you can discuss your favorites with your mother and get her input. I can email your mother a link to your registry before we publish it for guests.”

And give her a full report on how she and Troy acted, too. Cassandra wouldn’t put that past her mom.

Mercedes removed a file folder and a Mont Blanc pen from a desk drawer. “Let’s get started.”

Following a quick lesson on how to use the electronic scanner to fill out their registry, Mercedes handed Troy the device. “Most grooms like to handle this part. Your list will be available online, so this takes away typos or human error.”

Troy checked out the scanner like a kid with a new game controller. “Cool.”

He would think so. Cassandra, however, wanted to leave. The tasteful displays of crystal, china, and hollowware might as well be displays of half-eaten brains and hearts. She’d hated doing this with Eric because he’d only wanted the top of the line for all their selections. It had felt disingenuous asking for expensive things she didn’t want, but being here with Troy under the guise of an engagement was worse somehow.

Mercedes motioned them to follow her. “Why don’t we start by looking at the china patterns?”

If they were doing this, they might as well go all in. Who knew what her mom had said to Mercedes. Cassandra brushed a stray lock off Troy’s forehead. “Is that all right with you, muffin?”

“I go where you go, shortcake.” He drew her close to whisper in her ear. “Why are you being so…so fiancée-like?”

“In case Mercedes is going to report to my mother,” Cassandra whispered. “Think you can handle it?”

“I’ll try.”

When he kissed her neck, her pulse hit overdrive. Maybe she should have worded her question differently. Could she handle it?

“The china is over here, my two lovebirds,” Mercedes said.

On the way, Troy pointed out an ivory plate with a black-and-navy patterned band and a gold rim. “What do you think of this, cupcake?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Like you.”

The words flowed too easily from his lips. Cassandra could almost believe he meant them. “The pattern might be too bold. We could grow tired of it, tiger.”

“You’re absolutely right, kitten.”

She picked up a plate with peach and blue flowers along the rim and in the center. “What about this?”

“Nice and traditional.” Troy kissed her cheek, and Cassandra nearly dropped the expensive plate. “But the colors might not match our decorating scheme in a couple of years.”

Cassandra set the plate down. “You’re so right, dumpling.”

Mercedes beamed. “The two of you are adorable. I’ve seen couples who are only interested in picking out the most expensive or popular patterns. It’s obvious the two of you want to create a home that will last.”

If only…

Was that what Cassandra wanted—a home and family? Maybe once upon a time, but now?

She clasped her hand in Troy’s and gazed into his eyes. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was acting this way for Mercedes’s sake or her own. “I’m lucky.”

Troy caressed her hand with his thumb. “We’re lucky.”

Standing among the exquisite china and crystal, Cassandra could almost believe they were a happily engaged couple. The feeling didn’t suck. She tried to focus, but the strains of Bach playing from hidden speakers caught her attention. The tune was one she could imagine being played as she walked down the aisle on her wedding day.

Cassandra’s throat tightened. She’d known tonight would be a mistake, but she had no idea how big. Her mix of emotions was off-the-chart scary.

“Troy’s correct about picking a pattern,” Mercedes said. “Choose one with colors you love and can grow old with.”

Troy released Cassandra’s hand and examined another plate. She was glad he’d let go, but a part of her wished he was still touching her.

As she looked at the various place settings, she pictured herself at Christmas. A big Douglas fir with brightly wrapped presents under the branches. Joy and laughter. A table overloaded with food and surrounded by family. Children. Troy. They would establish traditions that would carry over. And each year, Cassandra would set the table with the same china. A classic pattern. White or ivory. The image sharpened. She could smell the pine needles and vanilla.

Wait a minute.

Stop the madness.

This wasn’t real. No matter how good Troy was at playing her fiancé, they weren’t planning for their future. They would never have a decorating scheme. No traditions or children. It was all a lie.

A big fat lie.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

Agree to whatever he picks up next.

Troy showed her a white plate with a white lace motif and platinum band. “What about this?”

“Perfect.” And the pattern was perfect—to her dismay. If she were going to get married, she would select that pattern. But she wasn’t. She would continue using the multicolored plates she’d bought at an estate sale. Her ribs squeezed. “Eight place settings?”

“Twelve.” Troy gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I have a large family. We’ll never be able to use them at Thanksgiving and Christmas unless we have enough place settings for everyone. I can almost taste the turkey and homemade cranberry sauce.”

So could she, except…

This was getting more ridiculous by the second.

She didn’t know how to cook a turkey and cranberry sauce came in a can or from the caterer. Holiday dinners with his family would never happen. “But—”

“Twelve.”

“Okay, twelve place settings.” No sense arguing. Whatever gifts they received would be returned anyway.

“Is this for your formal place setting?” Mercedes asked.

“Yes.” Troy ran his fingertips along the edge of the plate.

“We don’t need informal dishes.” Cassandra tried to erase the image of a Battenberg lace tablecloth beneath the bone china. She had left that life behind. She wasn’t going back to it.

Not for Troy, not for anyone.

She hated that she had to keep reminding herself of that.

He smiled. “I agree. I want to use our china every day. No sense keeping the dishes in a hutch only for holidays. That way, it’ll remind us of tonight and how we chose the pattern together.”

I love you.

Oh, no. Cassandra realized she wasn’t falling for Troy. She’d fallen. Headfirst.

Love.

How could that have happened? He was so different from her, and she hadn’t known him long enough. One reason after another swirled in her mind.

Mercedes’s smile grew wider. “Mr. McKnight, I wish I could clone you.”

I wish you were really mine.

Cassandra’s muscles felt weak as if her body had gone numb. She searched for the nearest exit but didn’t get past staring into Troy’s eyes.

Focus on registering.

Mercedes set the five-piece place setting on a forest green place mat. “Let’s find crystal and silverware to complete the setting.”

“What about this?” Troy held a plain goblet with a narrow stem. “I like this one.”

“Orrefors,” Mercedes said. “Would you care to look at the Waterford patterns also?”

Cassandra remembered her mother’s comment at the bridal salon in Carmel. “I’m not the Waterford type. The crystal Troy picked out is fine.”

Troy raised the glass as if making a toast. “If I tap on the glass, do I get a kiss?”

You can have anything you want.

Cassandra swallowed hard. “Do you deserve one?”

He tapped his finger on the glass. “Yes.”

She meant to only brush against his mouth, but the moment her lips touched his, she couldn’t stop herself from taking the kiss deeper.

Everything faded away. Everything except Troy.

The taste of him, the texture of him. She never wanted this moment to end.

Not real.

As she pulled away from Troy, he smiled. “If I’ll get kisses like that, I’m buying one of these glasses tonight. I could get used to that.”

Her too. But Cassandra couldn’t afford to. After the party, he would be out of her life. The way she wanted.

Or had wanted. Now…

“Would you like to see the silverware?” Mercedes asked.

“Yes.” Troy held Cassandra’s hand once again, but after kissing him, she needed distance.

She made a beeline to a display of silverware against the far wall. The sooner they made their selection, the sooner she could go home.

Troy followed her. “Look at this, honey.”

“It’s perfect,” she said, wanting to end this charade right now. She had so much on her mind, so much to figure out.

He stared at a dinner fork. “Perfect?”

Cassandra took a closer look. The silver fork resembled something from a fantasy novel with dragons on the handle and swirling arrows of gold forming the prongs. “Maybe not.”

Mercedes pointed to a set shining against the black velvet background. “What do you think of this?”

Two circular bands near the head of the fork were the only decoration. Plain, yet striking. “Yes, that will do.”

Mercedes put the silverware together with the rest of their choices. “Wonderful selections. Look how well the pieces work together.”

Troy placed his arm around Cassandra’s shoulder. “Doesn’t it look perfect, darling?”

You’re perfect. Cassandra’s stomach knotted. She forced herself not to lean into him. “Yes.”

Mercedes smiled. “I’ve seen hundreds of engaged couples, and I must say the two of you seem so happy together.”

Cassandra couldn’t talk—she couldn’t breathe.

Troy pulled her closer. That was the last thing she needed.

He smelled so mouthwateringly good. It wasn’t fair.

“Thank you, Mercedes.” He handed over the scanner.

“I’ll get this uploaded,” Mercedes said.

“You don’t need to send the information to my mother.” Cassandra couldn’t go through this again. Picking out a place setting for dinners that she and Troy would never share hurt her heart. “We’re happy with the selections, but we need to go.”

“No problem,” Mercedes said. “We can set up another appointment later to pick out serving pieces, housewares, and bedding. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As Mercedes walked away, Troy smiled. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“No.” Pretending was too easy. Cassandra felt as if she were going to marry Troy. Despite his job, his being uptight, his goals, she wanted to be with Troy. He made her smile and feel good inside. When he was around, she felt at ease. He cared what happened to her. That sense of belonging had only increased since Carmel.

She loved him.

Her stomach churned and cartwheeled. Talk about a big mistake. How had she let this happen?

Troy touched the edge of her mouth. “Smile, please. You look like you lost your best friend.”

She forced her lips to curve upward. Whoever said frowning took more muscles than smiling was a fool.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Wrong? Everything was wrong.

She was an idiot.

Loving Troy when she shouldn’t. First, she barely knew him. Second, he defined success by the amount of money, power, and prestige he could achieve. Third, his priorities were a hundred and eighty degrees different from hers. Beyond the physical attraction and chemistry, they had nothing in common.

He was the wrong man for her.

You’ll make someone a great wife.

Someone, not him. He wanted a different kind of woman to marry. A woman not like her.

Just. Like. Eric.

A chill traveled the length of her spine.

She shivered.

So why was she feeling this way? And how did she make it stop?

Getting away from Troy was the only solution. Getting away now. Staying away forever. “I want to cancel the engagement party.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

As her gaze met his, Cassandra’s resistance melted. His thick-lashed blue eyes should be on the FBI list of deadly weapons. They were to her. She couldn’t look at him and say no.

But she had no choice.

Stay strong.

Cassandra glanced at the marble-tiled floor instead. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go through with the party.”

He grabbed hold of her hand before she could step onto the escalator. “You’re nervous.”

“Yes.” Except nerves were only a part of this. The future she’d envisioned, the one she wanted, was changing because of the man standing with her, but it was a futile future, something she’d never have with Troy. “I don’t want to go to the engagement party.”

He pulled her toward the dress department. “Want to buy new outfits to wear?”

As if that would solve anything. “Don’t trust me to pick out my own clothes?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You wouldn’t complain if I wore a little black dress with a strand of pearls.”

“I didn’t say that, either, but would that be so bad?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded harsh and loud and so unlike her. “That’s not who I am.”

“Not now, but once—”

“In the past, yes.” Her heart ached because she had a feeling he could never love her as she was now. “But I don’t want to go back to that. Not for my family or anyone.”

Especially you.

Please don’t ask me to do that.

“It’s one night.”

One night for her to once again pretend to be something that she wasn’t. Not just his fiancée, but the career-asset future spouse. Dressing and acting the part would only prolong the inevitable—saying goodbye. Troy didn’t want someone like her.

She’d known that but had ignored the bursts of reality. She could no longer deny how this was going to end. “You were supposed to be my fiancé for one night.”

“Cassie—”

“The engagement party is one more lie piled on a stack of the ones we’ve told. Pretending has gone too far. It has to stop.”

Lines creased his forehead. As his brows drew together, his gaze flitted around, never focusing on one thing. That was Troy’s worried look. Only she realized he wasn’t concerned about her. He was concerned about how this would affect him and his future. Her shoulders drooped. She wanted to go home.

“We need to talk.” Troy motioned to the nearby salesclerks staring at them and then took her hand. “Someplace more private.”