Chapter 12

Tanner

Well, I can’t let all these people think my grand gesture was a flop now, can I?

I turn and smile at the nervous-looking crowd. “She can’t wait to ravish me, right here on the carpet!”

The drum major smiles knowingly and cues the band. In seconds, the saxophone players are serenading us with a sultry tune.

The Rockettes lift their skirts just above the knee and shake their hips, nearly blinding us with the flash of their sequins. The crowd is clapping to the beat.

Even the puppies are howling along.

Elsa gestures for me to get up, but I stay put.

Finally, Elsa struts up to the drum major’s neck, grabs his whistle, and blows. “You heard me! Time to go! Move it! GO!”

Elsa’s employees scramble back to their desks. The musicians, dancers, and photographers crowd the door.

“Thanks again!” I call out to them. “Sorry you’re going to miss the real show.”

I stay on one knee, smiling and holding out that box as if I could pop the question at any moment.

When a few of the dancers stop to high-five me on their way out, I know everything has gone according to plan. As far as everyone else is concerned, our love story is the real deal. But I know it’s going to take more than a dog and pony show to get Elsa to see it that way.

The puppy handler approaches Elsa cautiously to collect the beagle. “Don’t worry,” she says quietly when she sees the look on Elsa’s face. “This little guy is on his way to his forever home. Mr. Sharpe paid the adoption fees for all these dogs in exchange for a quick visit.”

Elsa breathes a sigh of relief, and I bask in the glow of my good deed. This stunt of mine may have been a little over the top, but at least the puppies are getting something out of the deal.

When the performers are out the door and the employees have resumed their work, I rise to my feet and brush the dust off my knees.

Elsa watches me pocket her unopened gift. “So, what’s in the box?”

I shrug and let her imagination run wild: Is it her dream engagement ring, or is it a fake I bought just to show off for the cameras? Or is the box empty? Would I really be that cruel?

Elsa’s curiosity is killing her, I can tell. I’ve gone to great lengths to annoy her today, but this moment is my favorite so far.

She pouts. “You’re not even going to show it to me?”

“What’s the point? The photographers are gone.”

Elsa sighs. “In my office, please.”

I follow Elsa into her corner office, where Central Park beckons me from those floor-to-ceiling windows. The memory of her body against mine makes me weak in the knees. I’ll never look at a park bench the same way again.

Before I close the door behind me, I spot a handful of Elsa’s employees tiptoeing toward us from their desks, their cellphones poised. When they see me watching them, they freeze in their tracks.

“Come on now, you don’t really want to catch us going at it, do you?”

Snickers follow, and Elsa’s harried assistant—Monique, I think her name is—shepherds her colleagues back to their seats.

“Wow. Everyone is so interested in our little office meeting. You’d think we were running off to have hot, noisy sex in here.”

When Elsa doesn’t respond, I turn up the volume. “This is a place of business, Elsa!” I yell out the door. “You can do whatever you want with me when we get home.”

Elsa fumes. It appears my blushing bride-to-be has turned bright red with rage. “We’re not having sex in my office, and you know it.”

“But we could be, right?”

“But we’re not.”

“Not yet.”

“Tanner, what are you doing here? What the hell is all this?” She gestures to the carpet outside the door, which is covered in glitter, popped balloons, and what I suspect are little puddles of puppy pee.

I’ll send a cleaning crew to deal with that later.

I close the door behind us and take the seat in front of Elsa’s desk. She walks around me and takes her place in her high-back executive chair, the one designed to make anyone sitting across from her look small.

“The board of directors asked for a circus, didn’t they?” I ask in my most innocent tone. “Well, I’ve come here to give them a circus.”

“All anyone asked you to do was stir up a little gossip: a romantic date at a high-profile restaurant, a goodnight kiss, a shared taxi that may or may not be taking us back to the same bedroom. But this? This is way too much.”

“Oh, I think it’s just the right amount.” I get up and walk to the window with the view of the park. “Remember our little rendezvous in the forest?”

Elsa shifts in her seat, and I know she’s been thinking about it, too.

“People come from all over the world to go Central Park: to take a carriage ride, rent a rowboat, watch a bride have her photo shoot. It’s a very romantic place.”

“You and I did none of those things. We groped each other on a park bench while a reporter took pictures.”

“You make it sound so perfunctory.”

I move behind her chair and sweep her hair away from her shoulders. She tenses, and I run my fingertips down her neck, settling my palms on her shoulders to rub all that tension away. Her blouse is loose enough that when I look down, I can see just a hint of cleavage and lace.

“The way I remember it, we were overcome with lust. Passion. Desire. We were so swept up in the moment, we didn’t even notice we were being watched.”

“But we did notice we were being watched. We came there specifically to be watched.”

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Her words are noncommittal, but she’s very responsive to my touch. She tilts her head to one side and lets me slide her bra strap off her shoulder to get a better grip. It’s all I can do not to lift her up on the desk and have my way with her.

“That’s why the reporter believed us—at least enough to write an article about it. But if we want to continue convincing people that we’re for real, we have to make them think we’re falling in love. Lingerie is about more than sex; it’s about romance.”

“That’s what we tell ourselves, anyway,” she mutters.

I hate to hear her sounding so jaded. I wish I could tell her that I really am sorry about the fight. That it felt good to plan a romantic surprise for her, even if it did start out as a publicity stunt.

But I know she won’t believe me. Not right now.

Not when we have company. In the window next to the door, I can see one of Elsa’s colleagues peering in, still hoping to see something scandalous to report to her cube mates.

I fuss with the collar of Elsa’s blouse as if I were in the middle of something much more sinful than a neck massage.

Then I lean in close to Elsa’s ear. “Don’t look now, but one of your colleagues is staring at us through the window.”

“I know. I can see her, too.”

“We should do something sexy. You can reach behind me and grab my butt if you want.”

She laughs. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Are you sure? There are two of them now.” A second colleague has joined the first one at the window. They lean in and whisper to each other, and I can only imagine what they’re saying about us.

“That’s because you’re still here. When you leave me alone, so will they.”

I return to my seat, lean back, put my hands behind my head, and give Elsa my most dazzling smile—the one that’s gotten me out of parking tickets and into parties where I wasn’t on the list. The one that used to make even hard-nosed Elsa very agreeable.

“That’s exactly why I can’t leave you alone. Don’t you see? If we don’t keep the romance alive, people will lose interest.”

Now I’ve got her right where I want her, and she knows it.

Elsa bares her pearly-white teeth. If she hadn’t been so outraged seconds earlier, I would think she’s smiling. But I know her too well for that.

I’m like Little Red Riding Hood, wondering why Grandma’s teeth are so big. And she’s the wolf.

Things are about to get wild in here.

“All right. I’ll play along,” she says coolly. “Like you said, we should give the people what they want. But we’re going to do things my way.”

Uhh. Okay. Whatever Elsa has planned, it can’t be good.

Still, though…

“What did you have in mind?”