Eleven
Serena Fern and Ashton Weaver sat at a round table by the swimming pool, Pen across from them in a matching cushioned wicker chair. She’d met them at Ashton’s mansion, per his request, and was as grateful for the peppermint candy he offered as much as the warmth of the summer sun.
These two were currently interviewing for a public relations specialist to handle an incident that happened during a particularly wild party where Serena, who was engaged to Michael Guff, her manager, was photographed sliding lips with her fellow actor, Ashton.
And who could blame her? Serena and Ashton were in their early twenties and Michael was pushing forty.
In their matching aviator sunglasses, Serena and Ashton looked very much like a couple. Especially since they held hands on the tabletop next to three sweating glasses of lemonade.
“We want to go public,” Ashton declared. “She doesn’t love Michael.”
Serena’s smile was sweet—hopeful. She liked that Ashton claimed her; Pen could tell that much.
“You are public,” Pen informed them. “You’re public in a big way.” TMZ had plastered those photos all over the internet. There was nothing demure about Serena in her string bikini in this very pool and Ashton’s tongue visible as she clung to his neck. The engagement was off, but Serena said Michael hadn’t dropped her as a client yet. Because he was smart. He knew Serena was at the top of her game, and wasn’t about to let his cash cow go. So to speak.
“I don’t want to be the bad guy here. I look like I cheated.” Serena’s full pout appeared. She was gorgeous, if not a petite little thing.
“You did cheat,” Pen reminded her. Her clients came to her for the truth and she wasn’t holding back. “The good news is, most of the public will see this as predatory. Michael knows what he’s doing. He wooed you with his professionalism and expertise. We’ll perpetuate the story that he was marrying you for a cut of your money. A few timely interviews and tweets, and then you and Ashton can go public. For now, you can be seen together, but no kissing. No hand-holding. Go out and have coffee—better yet, with your scripts like you’re rehearsing. In a few weeks you can snog in public all you like.”
Serena grinned. Ashton didn’t.
“What about Michael?”
Pen smiled. And here came the part where the young actors hired her.
“I’d recommend Serena firing him.”
Ashton grinned. Serena gasped.
“Can I...do that?” she asked.
“Not only can you do that, you should. I know a couple of wonderful agents who could recommend someone reputable for your career.”
“And then we could stop sneaking around and pretending it was an accident.” Serena grasped Ashton’s hands with both of hers and then, the two most adorable people ever embraced and kissed in a way that made Pen uncomfortable.
Job acquired, Pen left Ashton’s mansion and those two to their inevitable lovemaking. Serena’s words wound around her brain as Pen climbed into her car. Sneaking around.
While Pen and Zach weren’t exactly sneaking, it irked her that she didn’t have a blueprint for their situation. This was what she did for a living—she should be able to draw up a concise plan.
Which would be...what?
She thought back to Chicago, to Reese and Merina Crane’s marriage of convenience, and how it turned into love despite starting as a farce.
Is that what Pen was hoping would happen with her and Zach? Because that was...silly.
What they had was an engagement that had started out as a distraction for Zach’s PR issue. What they currently had was an entanglement that couldn’t be resolved by a few tweets and sound bites.
What they had was a budding family and Pen needed to decide how, exactly, to move forward while preserving the Ferguson family’s good name.
She drove to her apartment, deep in thought about what that plan would look like. How she and Zach would maintain a friendship throughout raising their child. When the best time would be to announce the dissolving of their engagement.
Probably the wisest move was to announce the baby on the heels of them not being engaged—that way everyone would be too excited about the baby to focus on the breakup.
Sigh.
Maybe she should hire a PR person to handle her case.
From where she sat, everything looked muddy.
At her apartment, she pulled into the lot. Without a private garage like Zach had, she didn’t have much choice but to park her car in the elements. As luxurious as his apartment and amenities were, she couldn’t stay there forever. She had to start thinking about where to put the baby—and considering that her apartment was a compact one-bedroom, one-bath, that meant she would have to consider moving.
Perhaps that was the first order of business.
She stepped from her car and turned for the property manager’s office directly across from her building. As luck would have it, Jenny was heading her way.
“Ms. Brand.” Her cropped blond hair blew in the summer breeze. She wore a fitted pencil skirt and a button-down shirt over a pair of sensible pumps. “Great timing. I was coming to give you this.”
“Oh?” Pen pushed her hair behind her ear and accepted the paper Jenny offered. “What is it?”
“Your lease has been terminated. Congratulations on your engagement!” Jenny squeezed Pen’s upper arm. “I hate to see you go, but I’m thrilled you’ve found love. Zach told me it was a surprise—his wedding gift to you. Ohmygoshisthatthering?” She snatched Pen’s left hand and admired the diamond resting there, before rerouting her hand to her chest. Pen swore the other woman was tearing up. “You have until the end of the month to clear your things. No hurry, but honestly, I wouldn’t hesitate moving in with a man who gives you a rock like this one!”
Before she could respond to...well, any of it, Jenny waved and said something about returning to her desk. Pen watched her go, the paper in her hand blowing and folding in half. She straightened it and read over the words Paid In Full as her temper skyrocketed.
Yes, she’d been contemplating moving from her one-bedroom into a larger place, but she wasn’t planning on moving in with Zach.
She lifted her cell phone and punched in his number. When he answered in his office-y voice, she let him have it.
“I’m homeless.” She wrestled her keys from her bag and marched inside her building.
“You’re far from homeless,” came his easy response.
“I’m not moving into your apartment, Zach.”
“No. You’re not.”
She blinked as she pushed the button on the elevator for her floor. “Pardon?”
“I’m looking at a house right now. There’s not enough room for a baby at my place.” His voice sounded distant when he spoke to someone other than her. “I’ll take it.”
“Zach?”
“Gotta go, gorgeous. I have paperwork to deal with.”
“Zach.”
But one glance at her cell phone and she could see he’d already ended the call.
* * *
Zach tried Pen’s phone number again only to be greeted by voice mail. He tapped the screen on the dashboard to end the call and pulled off the highway, changing direction to drive to her apartment. If she wasn’t there, he’d try her office, and if she wasn’t there, he’d see her at his apartment tonight.
When he’d gone to her place of residence to pick up a few things for her a week ago, he’d nearly had an aneurysm. The apartment building was in need of more than paint and TLC, and the area wasn’t the safest. He’d decided then and there to keep her close by. Safe. Now that she was having his baby, there was no need for her to struggle.
He didn’t want their child growing up worried about his or her safety.
From what he could tell, Pen dumped all her money into her office. He understood why. With a job like hers, working with business and celebrity elite, she needed to look the part.
He drove through the parking lot but there was no sign of Pen’s car. He’d try her office next. He hit the screen on his dashboard to call her cell again, knowing it was futile.
But then her voice surprised him.
“I’m trying to be mad at you.”
He couldn’t help smiling. Not because she was mad at him but because hearing her voice lined with anger meant she was safe. She was okay.
“Where are you?”
“Why? Planning on coming by and buying me out of whatever building I’m in? What if I’m shopping?”
“A shopping center is well within my pay grade.”
Her silence let him know his joke didn’t fly.
“I want to know where you are so I can show you our new house.”
“Zach.”
“We also need to talk about our plans and what we’re sharing when. I’m not going to dodge questions when they start rolling in, regardless of my brother’s political career or Ferguson Oil’s reputation. I’m not going to hide you or what we’re doing.”
“I agree. We need a plan.” Her voice was wooden, but he’d take the agreement. “I don’t want that, either.”
“All right, then. Where are you? I’ll take you to dinner.”
“I’m at your apartment. Throwing your clothes out the window.” Her voice was petulant, but he could guess she was kidding.
“I guess I have to buy that shopping center after all.”
More silence.
“Pen.”
“Come home. We’ll talk then.”
The way she said home, with ownership, and invited him to join her, snagged his chest.
“I was serious about dinner,” he said as he sat back in his seat and accelerated.
“You bet your sweet ass you are,” Pen snapped. “I’ll see you soon.”
Another grin. Damn, he liked her feisty.
He liked her, period.
At home he found Penelope dressed down in a tight pair of form-fitting pants and a baggy tee. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was on the floor, eyes closed, hands resting on her knees.
“Yoga?” he guessed, setting his cell phone and briefcase on the kitchen counter.
“I’m meditating so I don’t kill you,” she said without opening her eyes. Then she did, and pegged him with a pair of pale blues that never failed to make him smile. She had a pull on him—a physical one, sure, but there was a deeper connection there. Because of the baby? Yes, that was definitely part of it, but that wasn’t all. “How was your day, dear?”
“Hectic. I bought a house.”
“I heard.” Her mouth flattened. She reached behind her and lifted a sheet of paper, waving it in the air for him. “I lost mine.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
She stood from her mat and slapped the paper against his chest. “I was surprised.”
He palmed the paper and followed her into the kitchen. She swallowed a few drinks of water before gesturing to the paper he still held. “Flip it over.”
Her handwriting took up the entire backside of the page.
“‘PR Plan for Zachary Ferguson and Penelope Brand,’” he read.
“I drafted our plan.”
Under their names were dates and bulletpoints for items like “announce end of engagement” and “be seen shopping for baby” and “press release.”
“This is...interesting.” He couldn’t come up with another word for it.
“This is the way we’re doing it.”
“I don’t see a line item for moving into my house.”
“Sorry. I’m going to be living apart from you before that happens.” She waggled her hand where the engagement ring sat. “The breakup and all.”
“I don’t see why we have to break up.” He felt his brow furrow while hers lifted.
“Because this isn’t real. I’ve orchestrated engagements before. I’ve even dealt with unplanned pregnancies. Couples don’t usually argue with my sound and reliable suggestion to announce a split.” She bit her lip. “Mostly.”
Mostly.
He wondered if that meant some of the couples she’d walked through the valley of the shadow of matrimony fell in love for real and unraveled her precious plans. That wasn’t their case, but he could see the discomfort in her expression.
He set the paper aside and walked toward her until she plastered her back against the fridge and lifted her chin to take him in. There wasn’t anything quite like her delicate features contrasted with all that strength and sass. She was a drug.
His palm on her stomach, he crowded her until his body was pressed against hers. “This. Is real.”
“I know,” she said just above a whisper. “But the engagement isn’t.”
“There’s no reason to dismantle it yet. We could say we’re waiting to marry until after you have the baby.”
She gave him a slow nod, her eyes averting. “Is that what you want?”
Yes. Because he knew what he didn’t want. He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of the pregnancy. That was only one of the reasons he wanted her to move in. He wanted to watch over her, but he also wanted to be with her.
“How about this for a proposal?” he asked, pleased when she turned her head, and her lips were dangerously close to his. “Move into my house. Have my baby. Wear this ring.”
“And then what?”
“We have time to decide the what, Penelope.” He palmed her soft cheek and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “In the meantime, I want you in my house. In my bed. In my world.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Let me. Allow yourself to let me. You don’t have to have a rigid plan for your own life, Pen. Live on the edge.” He gave her a lazy grin. “It’s fun here.”
She licked her lips and before she could argue, he covered them with a kiss. Deflecting? Possibly. Where they were concerned, there was one surefire way to get them back on track and that was in the bedroom.
“You promised me dinner,” she breathed, but her fists clung to him.
He was aware of the time, more aware of her pending hunger than his hardening manhood. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” Her eyebrows bent in the sincerest apology. “How about after dinner?”
“You have to ask?” He shook his head, still marveling over how off-kilter this woman could throw him. “Dinner. Get changed.”
Her beaming smile made him almost as happy as having her underneath him. She bounced out of the kitchen and down the hallway and Zach took another look at the paper in front of him.
He grabbed a pen from a nearby drawer and drew a line through “announce end of engagement.”