Chapter 7

Lunch at a quaint café in downtown Carmel reminded Cassandra of childhood outings with her mom. She enjoyed the one-on-one time. Over the past year, her mother had wanted to do things with both her and Emily. That was why Cassandra always declined. Today would have been nice except that the not-as-subtle-as-she-thought-she-was Vanessa Daniels had taken on the role of Troy’s personal publicist and wouldn’t stop talking about him.

“Don’t you think he has the bluest of eyes? Yours are beautiful, but his…” Her mother sipped her iced tea. “Gorgeous is the only way to describe them.”

How much longer was this going to go on? Cassandra stabbed at the piece of marinated grilled chicken in her salad.

“Troy also has the most charming smile,” her mother continued. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Not trusting her voice, Cassandra nodded.

“You’re not eating much.” Her mother’s gaze softened. “Missing Troy?”

Cassandra shoved a crouton into her mouth even though she wasn’t hungry. Chewing was better than answering.

Her mother glanced at her cell phone. “Look at the time. We have an appointment at one o’clock.”

Cassandra managed not to touch her hair or frown. “Fun.”

As much fun as having the stomach flu would be.

“We can get dessert afterward,” her mother said.

Nodding again, Cassandra thought of Troy. She wondered how his day of golfing was going. He had no idea how easily this situation could spin out of control…or maybe he didn’t care because his focus was on how this weekend could help his career. That was how Eric had been, so she shouldn’t be surprised. Still…

Her appetite—well, what little remained—disappeared. “I’m finished. I ate too much at breakfast.”

“That was hours ago.”

“The waffles were that good.” She kept a smile on her face. “So, what’s the appointment for?”

Twenty minutes later, Cassandra found out. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she stood in an elegant bridal salon. The white fabrics, lace, and sparkling crystals hurt her heart.

“This is sweet of you to arrange, Mom, but Troy and I haven’t set a wedding date. Trying on dresses is premature.”

“Perhaps but humor your mother.”

None of this was amusing to Cassandra. Tension built at her temples. Any moment, a massive headache would erupt. Smiling hurt her jaw, but she had no choice. She had created this lie. She needed to live with the consequences. “Okay.”

Mustering enthusiasm wasn’t happening. She couldn’t—not when all she could think about was the last time she’d tried on wedding dresses. She’d been so excited to be getting married to Eric. Putting on a white dress had made their engagement more real. Her friend and coworker Moe had gone with her, giving his advice with each gown she’d tried on. They’d laughed and had so much fun until they found the right one. Now all she felt was dread. She rubbed her neck.

“Think of this as a trial.” Her mother beamed. “Who knows? You may find something you like.”

Cassandra hoped not. That would make the situation worse.

“Let’s get you comfortable in a dressing room.” Ginger Soren, the fifty-something owner of Bridal Couture, wore a hot pink suit and matching pumps. Thick black eyeliner emphasized her sea-green eyes and contoured cheekbones. She wore her beach-blond hair in an elegant French twist. “Follow me, please.”

Cassandra did, with her mother at her side. So much pink and white. Crystals, too. Fancy and feminine described the décor. The dressing room was the size of a small bedroom with a pale pink velvet settee and two Queen Anne chairs positioned near a raised platform that was surrounded by three huge mirrors.

No doubt for the bride to model the wedding gowns.

This was going to be a nightmare. One of her own making.

Ginger studied Cassandra like a butcher eyeing a slab of beef. “You have a lovely figure. Several of the popular styles will take advantage of your curves. I’ll be right back.”

Her mom rubbed her palms together. “Isn’t this fun?”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Ginger tapped on the dressing room door and then walked in with three white dresses before Cassandra could reply. “Off-the-shoulder styles are the rage. This one, however, adds 3-D floral embellishments, so you’ll stand out from other brides.”

“Okay.” Cassandra didn’t know what else to say, but the monstrous pile of white fabric spiked her blood pressure. So not good. Stress affected her sleep and health. She’d learned that before opening the bookstore. She would be lucky if she survived the weekend without becoming exhausted or sick. Or both.

Ginger helped her into the gown and used plastic clips to adjust the back. “The sample is loose to fit a wide range of sizes, but we would order one based on your measurements. What do you think?”

No was the first thing that popped into Cassandra’s head, but she needed to play along for her mother’s sake. “It’s stylish. I like the tighter fit through my hips and thighs, but the layered skirt and flowers on the bodice are…a bit too much for me.”

She might not be conventional by her family’s definition, but she wasn’t the type to wear avant-garde fashion.

“I agree,” her mother said.

Ginger motioned for Cassandra to turn around so she could unbutton the dress. “Let’s get you into another gown.”

One down, two to go. Cassandra could handle this. “Sure.”

The dress came off. Another sleeveless one went on.

Ginger clipped the material. “This one has a fit-and-flare skirt but cleaner lines. The plunging neckline will show the bra you’re wearing today. That’s an easy fix for your wedding day. What do you think?”

Cassandra eyed her reflection. Two words came to mind—fake and phony. “I like the simpler lines, but I’m not comfortable with the low neckline.”

“I agree about the neckline.” Her mother tapped her chin. “It’s also a little too plain. There’s no texture to the fabric. No sparkle. A bride needs a little more…pizazz.”

“Wonderful input. The third dress is similar, so we’ll skip that one.” Ginger smiled.

Yay. Cassandra cheered silently. Now they could get dessert. Her appetite was returning.

Ginger motioned for her to turn. “Let’s get you out of this, and I’ll get some more.”

“More?” The word slipped out of Cassandra’s mouth.

“Of course, dear,” her mother said. “We want to narrow down the styles you like.”

Standing in a pair of underwear and a bra, Cassandra wanted only to put her clothes on and get out of here. Her last dress had never been worn other than for alterations and the final fitting. Maybe the bride who’d purchased it from her had better luck.

Ginger returned with more gowns. She helped Cassandra into the next one.

“Oh, my!” Ginger clapped her hands.

Her mom sighed. “You look as though you stepped from the cover of a bride magazine.”

Ginger nodded. “This is an A-line dress with an illusion bodice that’s been hand beaded. The extra layer on the skirt not only provides texture but also volume. What do you think?”

The crystal beading on the dress shimmered under the light of the chandelier hanging overhead. Beautiful, but the gown was like the one Emily had worn on her wedding day.

An engagement-ring-sized lump lodged in Cassandra’s throat. Her stomach churned. A good thing she hadn’t eaten much at lunch.

Cassandra wanted to go home. She wanted to run away and forget about her family and Troy.

She swallowed. “It’s lovely, but the style is more my sister’s than mine.”

Her mother tapped her chin. “Now that I look closer, the gown does seem familiar.”

“The designer is the same. I thought since they were twins, they might want similar styles.” Ginger pursed her glossed lips.

“It’s a spectacular dress,” her mother reassured. “But my daughters have different tastes. Like Waterford and Orrefors.”

“I understand.” Ginger unbuttoned the back. “Let me get you out of this. I have others that will work better.”

After Ginger had left the dressing room, her mother sighed. “I should have been clearer to Ginger about your tastes.”

“Like I’d want anything to remind me of Emily’s wedding.” She’d donated her maid-of-honor dress and dyed-to-match shoes to a thrift store the day after the wedding.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re still upset over your sister marrying Eric, but everything worked out for the best. He wouldn’t have made you happy.”

Her mom’s words were true. Cassandra doubted Eric would make Emily happy, either, but that was her sister’s problem. Still, Cassandra’s parents didn’t know what Emily had done. No one knew the full story or how the betrayal by two people Cassandra loved made trusting anyone difficult. She wanted to trust, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Putting the past behind wasn’t easy. Not when she couldn’t forget the pain of having her heart ripped out by her then-fiancé and twin sister. Maybe Cassandra should finally tell her mom what—

“Once we find you a wedding dress, you’ll feel better,” her mother said.

Cassandra doubted that. She rubbed her face as if she could wipe away what was happening right now.

Pretending was too much. The dress. The engagement. The fake fiancé.

She should stop the charade. And she would if not for Troy. He’d asked for a weekend. She owed him that unless he changed his mind about continuing to pretend. But she could take more control now.

“What if we forget about finding a dress?” Cassandra asked. “I could wear a toga. We could go with a Bacchanalian theme and have all the guests wear togas. I can wear a wreath made from fig leaves—”

“Cassandra, really.” Her mother’s tone matched the shocked look in her eyes. “Could you imagine your father in a toga? Just the thought.”

“It was only an idea.” Cassandra had tried and failed. Although, she liked the idea of Troy in a toga with nothing underneath. She nearly groaned.

Forget his kiss this morning and her dream last night. Troy McKnight was too much like Eric Wainwright—same ambition, same drive, same everything.

Telling her mother she was engaged had seemed like the perfect solution at the time, but Cassandra now realized her mistake. She should have been honest and made her parents understand she didn’t mind being alone. Being alone was better than the alternative—having her heart broken again.

Even if Cassandra was willing to risk her heart, she doubted she’d ever find a man who wanted her for who she was. Eric hadn’t. Troy admitted they were opposites. Chances were others would feel the same. Their loss. Cassandra liked the woman she’d become and wasn’t about to change for anyone. Yes, she was better off being single.

Ginger returned with three more dresses. The first was an elegant sleeveless silk ballroom gown with a lace-covered bodice and sweetheart neckline. The retro feel reminded Cassandra of a dress Audrey Hepburn would have worn. The second dress was strapless, ball-gown length, with some beading, but still simple and charming. She liked both dresses.

“I’m happy you like these better, but I think you’ll like this one the best.” Ginger helped Cassandra into the third gown and buttoned it. “I call this my Juliet gown. The designer puts a modern spin on a historical era.”

Cassandra stared at herself in the mirror. The lace dress had a higher neckline and three-quarter length sleeves. Not typical. It was a tad bohemian with a touch of Renaissance flair. In a word—perfect.

Her mother dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Oh, Cassandra. You look stunning in that dress.”

Ginger placed her right hand on her hip. “This dress makes more of a statement than the other two, but it’s not too out there.”

Emotion clogged Cassandra’s throat. She looked like a bride—she felt like a bride. The other wedding dress she’d purchased had made her feel special—like a princess—but this…

She wanted to be married wearing this dress. Well, if she were going to get married. Which she wasn’t, she reminded herself.

“I’ll find a headpiece to match.” Ginger walked out of the dressing room.

“What do you think?” her mom asked.

“It’s breathtaking.”

“I agree. It’s perfect for you.”

The words surprised Cassandra. She’d thought her mother would prefer a more traditional style and was happy she liked this one.

Cassandra imagined wearing this dress with a wreath of fresh flowers in her hair and a matching bouquet in her hands. She couldn’t wait for Troy to see her. He would love the dress, except…

He would never see her in this dress.

No one except her mom and Ginger would.

Cassandra’s spirits deflated like a hot air balloon on the ground after landing.

“Do you like the gown?” Vanessa asked.

Cassandra nodded, but she was disappointed with herself for finding a dress she didn’t need. She hunched as if she were carrying a seven-tier wedding cake on her back.

This was so unlike her. Time to get out of the perfect gown before she fell in love with it any more.

Where was Ginger? Cassandra tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for her to return.

“Is something wrong, dear?” her mother asked.

Cassandra couldn’t tell her the truth. “No.”

Except so much was wrong. She was a fraud. She loved the dress, but she couldn’t have it. She wasn’t getting married. She might not ever get married.

Catching another glimpse of her reflection, Cassandra blinked back a tear. She’d found the perfect dress—the perfect dress for a wedding that would never happen.

♥ ♥ ♥

After golfing and lunch with Dixon, Troy met Cassie in downtown Carmel where he watched her sit on a wooden stool and have her face painted by a clown. Cute, except Cassie gnawed on her lip. Maybe she didn’t like clowns. Maybe something had happened with her mother. Or maybe Cassie was still annoyed with him.

That seemed the most likely. He didn’t know her well but pushing Cassie didn’t seem to work. Dixon had warned him last night, and he was correct about his daughter. She dug in and raised more walls. At least that was how it appeared to Troy.

With only one more night and day in Carmel, they could survive without the fake engagement blowing up in their faces.

She looked at him. “Are you sure you don’t want your face painted?”

“I’ll pass.”

Face painting wasn’t for him, but Carmel was. A gentle breeze blew a rainbow windsock hanging outside a flower shop. Birds chirped from a nearby tree. Tourists strolled along the quaint streets lined with galleries, cafés, and trendy boutiques.

Someone giggled behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Three young girls waited in line to have their faces painted. They whispered to one another.

He smiled.

One of the girls, dressed in pink overalls, blushed and covered her mouth with her hands. With her curly blond hair, all she needed was a pair of wings and a halo to look like a little angel.

Troy wondered what Cassie had looked like when she was younger. No doubt a real cutie with her heart-shaped face and baby-blue eyes.

Sighing, he hoped he had all boys when he had kids. Daughters would age a man, fast. Especially if they turned out to be anything like Cassie.

Whoa. Where had that come from?

He wanted a family, yes. But not now. Maybe when he was in his mid-thirties, set in his career, and able to provide for children without a second thought. And not with someone like her.

She was the perfect fiancée for a weekend, but no longer. Troy needed a woman—make that a wife—who would be an asset to his career, not a novelty. Cassie wouldn’t be content chatting politely and networking at a cocktail party of movers and shakers in the V.C. and hi-tech world.

Her idea of fun would be… Troy rubbed the back of his neck. He had no idea really, but he was a hundred percent certain whatever it was would likely be inappropriate and unprofessional.

Standing, Cassie handed the clown a ten-dollar bill. With a big grin on her face, she faced him and struck a pose. Two daisies graced her flushed cheek. The flowers matched the ones on her dress.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s nice.”

“Nice?” Two lines formed above the bridge of her nose. “I wonder how you would describe my tattoo?”

“Tattoo?” Nothing about her should surprise Troy, but he wondered what kind of tattoo she had. A heart? Or a flower? Wildflowers? A rose, perhaps? But where? The idea of finding it made him smile.

“Yes, don’t you?”

“Uh, no.”

She blew out a breath. “You need to spice up your life. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re boring.”

He cringed. Next to Cassie, anyone would seem bland. “My life is exciting enough.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Where’s your tattoo?”

She tilted her chin. “That’s my secret.”

The sly smile on her face intrigued Troy. He imagined trying to find her tattoo, but the pictures forming in his mind raised his temperature twenty-five degrees. He needed to think about something different and cool off.

“Want to get ice cream?” he asked.

“Sure. There’s a place nearby.”

The ice-cream parlor was empty except for a family of four sitting at a round table. Cassie ordered a waffle cone with a scoop of Rocky Road and a scoop of Chocolate Fudge Brownie. He settled for a scoop of vanilla in a cup.

“Do you want to eat here?” he asked.

“Yes.” Cassie pointed to a small marble-top table near the window. “You can tell me how golfing went with my dad.”

Troy grabbed four napkins, handing three of them to Cassie before he sat at the table. “We had a wonderful time.”

“Details.”

He ate a spoonful of his ice cream. Cool and tasty, just what he needed to forget Cassie, who was hot and tasty. “You want details?”

“Don’t leave anything out.”

“I lost the round, so I bought lunch.”

Her eyes widened. “My father let you buy?”

“Yes.” Troy didn’t consider buying lunch a big deal. He’d insisted on paying, but he didn’t tell her that. “Your dad beat me, but he was upset over his score.”

“He has a four handicap.”

Huh? Troy parted his lips. “Dixon said he was a hacker.”

A dribble of chocolate sat at the corner of Cassie’s mouth. She licked the spot with the pink tip of her tongue. “He plays at least three times a week.”

“I was had.” Dixon wasn’t the only one trying to take Troy. Cassie was driving him crazy with the sexy way she licked her ice-cream cone.

Talk about torture. He couldn’t wait until she’d finished.

“Don’t worry. You made his day.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “What did you do after lunch?”

“Your dad gave me a tour of the lodge. Surprise, surprise. We ended up in a large banquet room that he said was a nice place for a wedding reception.”

Dixon had been far from subtle in maneuvering Troy into the room, but he had to give the man credit. The elegant room, with a hardwood dance floor and picture windows overlooking the golf course and the Pacific Ocean, would be the perfect place for a wedding reception.

Someday.

When he found the perfect woman and was ready to get married.

“It was a nice space,” Troy added.

“Emily and Eric had their reception there, so I can see why my dad said that. I hope the two of you didn’t select a date and reserve the room because that’s the last place I’d want.” Cassie sounded annoyed. But taking her seriously with daisies painted on her cheek and chocolate on her upper lip was impossible.

“We didn’t, but your father thought spring would be a good time for a wedding.” Reaching over, Troy wiped her lip with his napkin. “You missed a spot.”

Her pupils dilated. If he hadn’t been looking directly into her eyes, he would have missed it.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I thought about what you said this morning.” Especially after Dixon mentioned an opening at his firm. “I don’t buy the soul mates for eternity, but your parents are possibly getting carried away.”

“I told you so.”

Troy deserved that, but she didn’t have to sound so smug. “Can’t we share the blame? We’re in this together.”

“I suppose.” Cassie bit into the crunchy cone.

“After seeing the banquet room, I mentioned wanting a traditional church wedding, but that you wanted to get married in your bare feet at the beach and have a shaman perform the ceremony.”

“A shaman.” She chuckled. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie. I can’t believe you came up with that on your own.”

Pride rushed through Troy. He sat taller. No matter what Cassie might think, he wasn’t a stick-in-the-mud. He worked hard to get ahead. That didn’t leave him time for much else besides his job.

“I can be creative when called upon.”

“What did my dad say?” Her smile tugged at Troy’s heart.

“He said the beach might be difficult. Women in high heels. But he didn’t see a problem if you went barefoot.”

Her mouth dropped open. “My father said that?”

Troy nodded. He wasn’t about to mention that Dixon thought Cassie’s gown would cover her feet so whether she wore shoes or not wouldn’t matter.

“What about the shaman?” she asked.

Troy laughed. “He didn’t see a problem with that.”

“Please tell me you said something else besides the shaman.”

“Well…”

She sighed. “Your sheepish grin tells me everything I need to know, Troy McKnight. You didn’t say anything else.”

“Cassie—”

“You could’ve told my father I wanted you to quit your job and farm algae in Oregon.”

“Like he’d believe that,” Troy said. “I didn’t want to press the issue and be too obvious.”

“Why not?”

“We were having a good time.” Besides, Dixon deserved better. The man had taught Troy more during eighteen holes of golf than Troy had learned in one of his business school classes. The career advice Dixon had given him had been invaluable. “I didn’t want to spoil it.”

“You.” Cassie crumpled a napkin and then threw it at him. “You’re too nice.”

No, Troy wasn’t nice. If he were nice, he wouldn’t be wishing he could have licked the chocolate from her face instead of wiping it off.

“Do you ever not play by the rules?” she asked.

“I try not to bend them much. Agreeing to be your fake fiancé isn’t my normal M.O.”

“You’re positively hopeless.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Go right ahead.”

He grinned. “What about you? How was your day?”

Cassie rubbed her forehead. “My mother took me shopping for a wedding gown.”

That couldn’t have been easy on her. He remembered her reaction over her wedding dress that first night they’d met.

“I’m sorry.” He touched her arm. “This is getting out of hand.”

She didn’t meet his eyes but nodded.

He hated seeing her so…not sad, more worried. “This put you on the spot with your mom, but did you at least see anything you liked?”

“As a matter of fact, I—” Cassie’s cheeks reddened. She frowned. “What are we doing? If we’re not careful, we’ll be married and have a baby on the way before we know what’s happening.”

Her dire tone made him laugh. He couldn’t help himself. “I doubt that. We’d definitely know what was happening in both those cases.”

She slammed her hand on the table. The sound reverberated through the ice-cream shop. “We need to do something drastic.”

Troy’s gut tightened. Cassie most likely had a different definition of the word drastic than he did. She was an extremist. He was a middle-of-the-road kind of guy. “I don’t like the sound of drastic.”

“I’m not saying we stage a revolution, but pretending we’re engaged is working out too well.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “My parents love you.”

“Good! Because I like them.”

She made a face as if she were eating lemons not ice cream.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re halfway through the weekend.”

“But I didn’t realize they’d be so excited about the wedding. You admitted this was getting out of hand.”

“Yes.” And could possibly get worse. If he wanted to work for Dixon, the job and Cassie would be a package deal. No. Troy couldn’t begin to consider that.

“I know you’re worried about your career,” she said. “But my sanity is at stake here.”

His, too. “I know.”

Time for a reality check. Troy needed Cassie more than she needed him. Her parents’ meddling was one thing, but his job could be on the line if Mick found out Troy had lied about being engaged.

“All we need is a plan.” He was good at coming up with those. “We have less than twenty-four hours until we leave. We can survive this if we do it together.”

She didn’t say anything, but she rubbed her upper lip over her bottom one.

Her hesitation concerned him. He needed her to agree. “Think you can make it until then?”

“I… Yes, I can,” she said to his relief. “It’s just… Oh, no.”

“What?”

Her lips parted. “Hold my hand and gaze lovingly into my eyes.”

Troy assumed Cassie had a logical explanation for her request until she lifted his hand and kissed each of his fingers. She hadn’t been kidding when she said her sanity was at stake because she’d just lost her mind.

He pulled his hand away, but she held on. He tried again. “What are you—”

“PDA in an ice-cream parlor,” a female voice crooned.

Troy turned.

Emily dragged a frowning Eric toward the table. “I can understand such a public display of affection from my sister, but Troy, really. I thought better of you.”

No wonder Cassie had acted so strangely. He stopped trying to pull away. A good thing since she tightened her grip on his hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“We were shopping and saw you in the window. I’m sure the entire village has been watching you.”

Troy wouldn’t describe the tense atmosphere as sisterly. Frenemy didn’t come close. This was something else. Something bad.

Releasing his hand, Cassie straightened in her chair. “I meant, why are you in Carmel?”

“Didn’t Mother tell you? I guess not from the surprised expression on your face.” Emily’s tittering laughter filled the ice-cream parlor. “Guess who’s coming to dinner?”