An Act of Love: A Clean Romance

CHAPTER ONE

AFTER WORK ON Friday night, Marley Roman and her friend Dede Sanchez met for drinks at a downtown bar in Phoenix to escape the July heat before heading home. Marley pushed her long hair away from her neck to let the cool air-conditioning sweep around her.

Here’s to you, Lindy. Marley lifted her oversize margarita to her lips and licked at the salt before taking a sip. Thanks for beating me to the altar. Saturday morning she’d be flying to her youngest sister’s wedding. Memories of the last sister’s ceremony still haunted her. How could she handle the next week and keep her sanity?

I’ve never seen you so glum. Dede placed her glass of wine on the bar. Why not avoid this ritual? Tell your family you’ve come down with the plague or something.

Marley leaned toward her friend. Right. Like anyone would believe me. She hastily readjusted herself on the bar stool to catch her balance. The drink hadn’t helped Marley’s funky mood one bit. Maybe skipping supper hadn’t been such a great idea.

I’m the first of six girls, five of whom...who...whom... After pausing, she took a deep breath to clear her thinking. Why do I have to be the last one?

Since when has marriage become one of your priorities? Dede dusted a speck off her black dress, which was the same shade as her long hair. I thought you liked being single.

I do, but everyone in my family questions it. And they keep asking me when will it be my turn. Marley tried to focus. Well, maybe someday I’ll meet someone—and then...then I’ll think about it.

It won’t happen. Not when you refuse to accept the drink that cute guy at the end of the bar is offering. Dede smiled at him and waved a finger; Marley ignored him. He didn’t appeal to her. For that matter few men had since she’d finished college more than a decade ago.

Dede continued where she’d left off. You won’t date anyone in your office, and you completely blew it when I tried fixing you up with the guys I work with.

Marley propped her cheek against her hand and leaned her elbow on the bar to support her head. Jerrod was ten years younger than me—

Nothing wrong with being a cougar.

And Lincoln looked like the original Lincoln, minus the beard.

Marley finished her drink and motioned to the bartender.

Want the same margarita, Red? He reached for her glass.

Red. She hated that reference to her hair color. Did he call other customers Black, Brown or Blonde when he addressed them? Her father was always called Red. Anyone calling her that brought back memories of him. She didn’t need reminders of all the pain associated with her father’s abandonment.

The name’s Marley, and, yes, I’d like the same.

You sure? Dede attempted to shoo the bartender away. You rarely ever finish one, let alone two.

I’m not driving, so it’s okay.

The bartender hadn’t moved. He jerked his thumb toward the end of the bar. He’d still like to buy you one.

Marley glanced at the man, gave him a halfhearted smile, placed a bill on the bar and shook her head. The motion momentarily destroyed her vision, making her realize she’d already had enough. No, thanks. Don’t fix another. Your margaritas are way too potent.

You know, you’re avoiding the real problem. Dede stood and went through her purse in search of money.

Which is?

Guilt.

Marley furrowed her brow. What guilt?

You moved away from your family, and every time they bring you back, you try to make it up to them. Dede dropped a bill on the bar. Like this wedding. You’ve practically paid for most of it yourself.

Marley shrugged. Maybe so, but this is the last wedding so...no more guilt.

Yeah, right. Until the next baby is born.

Hesitantly, Marley placed her foot on the floor, got off the stool and held on to the bar for support. See, no hands. Marley lifted both palms, only to lose her balance and grab the back of the stool.

At some point, you’ll have to say no. They started for the door. Practice. It could make your life so much simpler.

Now that the sun had gone down and the night air felt tolerable, they walked the few short blocks to the light-rail station. Marley slung her jacket over her arm and hiked her purse’s strap onto her shoulder. Her feet ached in her open-toed heels. Getting home, then into a bath, was her only priority.

What you need is a fiancé, not a marriage. Dede slipped her arm through hers.

Just a fiancé. That’s all I need, Marley mused.

A fiancé you can talk about and get rid of the moment you return to Phoenix.

When they reached the red light and stopped, a city bus with a giant poster on it also stopped. The poster had recently popped up all over the city—an advertisement for a special business symposium to be held at the Civic Center. Here it was again, Brant Westfield smiling at them.

You see that guy? Marley said, pulling back and pointing at the bus.

Yeah. Cute.

He’s my neighbor.

Really? They both turned to face yet another announcement of The Convention No One Should Miss, this one posted at the bus stop. And this one with another smiling Brant Westfield.

When Brant had first introduced himself, she’d been welcoming but had kept him at arm’s length. For several reasons. First, she avoided relationships where she worked or lived because problems arose when the people became too involved or they broke up.

Second, and more important, she’d seen Brant with a parade of women. Obviously a player, he brought a lot of gorgeous females home with him. Better to avoid potential problems. Problems likely to occur with a man whose smile left her breathless.

Now that smile was plastered everywhere.

Give me your phone. Dede held out her hand and snapped her fingers.

Why?

I’m taking a picture of you with your new fiancé. Stand over there.

Laughing, Marley did as Dede ordered. After several unsuccessful shots, Dede handed the phone back. I don’t know if there’s too much or too little light. Sorry it didn’t work, because he sure makes a decent fiancé.

After reaching the Metro station, the women took seats to wait for the next light-rail that regularly made trips up and down Central Avenue. A breeze had picked up. Instead of offering relief, it felt more like a hair dryer blasting them. At least Marley wouldn’t have to deal with the Phoenix summer once she reached Pennsylvania.

To create a make-believe fiancé, it’s better if you focus on someone specific, so you’ll be able to remember the details.

A make-believe fiancé. Was she really going to invent a guy? Marley nodded slowly. Who? She went through all her acquaintances, including the few men she’d dated. No one stood out. Certainly no one she’d like to be engaged to.

Another poster of Brant flashed by.

Maybe...

Brant could be her fake fiancé, especially since he’d never know about it.

* * *

WHEN BRANT SAW the woman approaching his condo building, he backed under a tree out of sight. Since his picture had started appearing in all the ads for the convention campaign, everyone who recognized him accosted him. Particularly women he didn’t know. Better to be safe and not broadcast his address by walking in. His three-day beard and grubby clothes provided some disguise, but the celebrity status the poster afforded made anonymity nearly impossible.

When he could finally see her clearly under the streetlight, he recognized his neighbor—Marley. And she was obviously feeling no pain.

Beautiful she might be, but beauty was a common sight in his profession, and often the women had little more than their looks going for them. But he’d heard Marley play the guitar. He’d wanted to talk to her about possibly jamming together. Unfortunately, she shot him down before he could even suggest it.

He stayed put as water from the yard’s sprinklers hit his calves, refreshing after the day’s heat. He watched, waiting for her to go inside. Instead of entering the building, though, she took out her cell phone and paused in front of his picture on a bus stop billboard. It was an older likeness, from when his hair was shorter—

Great. His flip-flops were getting soaked. He stepped onto the sidewalk.

In the British accent he’d been practicing for his next gig, he asked, You’re taking a picture of my picture?

She screamed and tossed her phone in the air.

He managed to catch it before it hit the cement. Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you, love. Reverting to his natural voice, he asked, Why are you taking my picture’s picture? If it was to become rich on Facebook or Twitter, it was a wasted effort, since his image was already all over the internet. He held out the cell phone and waited. Finally, he took her arm and placed the phone in her hand.

* * *

MARLEY’S HEARTBEAT CONTINUED to race. How on earth could she explain this? She might as well be truthful, since she couldn’t think of any plausible reason. I needed your picture to show my family.

Why?

I...I needed a fiancé and decided you’d do.

What? After a moment’s pause, possibly to focus on what she’d said, Brant held his sides and roared with laughter. Lady, you’ve absolutely made my day.

That annoying accent again. What was it, anyway? British? Australian? She knew he’d spent several months in Australia doing a movie and had returned only a few weeks ago. And she knew he was an actor. But that’s all she really knew about him—well, that and his propensity for cowboy outfits. Usually he wore boots and a cowboy hat; today, though, he looked more like a hobo. His chambray shirt no longer had any sleeves and his shorts were cutoff jeans with white threads hanging around his knees. Instead of boots he wore grungy flip-flops.

So we’re engaged? Brant said as he continued to gaze at her. The accent was gone but not the smile in his voice. When’s our wedding?

I’m leaving tomorrow to attend my sister’s and... She stopped and took a deep breath.

And?

And I have five sisters, all younger and married or about to be. You have no idea what it’s like when everyone gangs up on you and asks when you’re getting married.

Oh, but I do. I’m asked the same question by my family. Okay if I tell them I’ve finally found the woman of my dreams and plan to tie the knot? He took out his cell phone. Here, let me take your picture so I can show them.

No! Marley held her hand in front of her face.

All these weeks you’ve barely given me the time of day, and now we’re engaged. He grasped her hand.

Marley pulled free and pushed past him.

We’re not having a spat now, are we, love? he said, returning to that accent. Our engagement is only minutes old, and you’re already breaking it off. What will your family think? That you prefer to remain a singleton?

Marley halted. Every nerve in her body fired. Feeling queasy, she faced him. I’m not in the mood, Brant, and one more word in that phony accent and I’ll—

It doesn’t sound genuine? He raised his eyebrows and stared in disbelief.

I haven’t the slightest idea if it is or not. I just know it’s not you, the Willie Nelson cowboy I see every day. She walked past him and continued to their condo building.

"Oh, so you have noticed me. Slipping back into his usual voice, he pushed the door open for her. But Willie Nelson? I look that old? I always considered myself more of a young Tim McGraw."

Once in the elevator, Marley removed her shoes and leaned against the metal wall. The coolness seeped into her skin, a delight after the warmth outside. She closed her eyes. When she heard Brant drop his backpack to the floor, she opened them. He had one hand on the wall above her head and was bending over, getting way too close.

Hmm. Brown. Aren’t redheads supposed to have green eyes?

She placed her palms against his chest and pushed him away.

He grinned—that smile that thoroughly unnerved her. Why pick me? We’ve never even been on a date.

I didn’t pick you. My girlfriend Dede did when your picture passed by on a bus.

Not that I haven’t tried. I asked you out for coffee and a walk in the rain. Both times you refused. Really did a number on my self-confidence.

Marley stared down at her feet and wiggled her toes. She remembered. Only someone who lived in Phoenix would consider a walk in the rain a fun thing to do. You’ve obviously recovered.

What is it? You’ve got a thing against actors?

No. She looked up into very dark eyes only inches from her own. I don’t like dime-store cowboys.

What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m not for real?

Oh, he was for real, all right. And promised nothing but trouble on a grand scale.

He backed off but still kept eye contact. I’ll have you know that unlike most of the residents in this fair state, I’m a native Arizonan. I own my own ranch and raise horses.

They got off the elevator on the seventh floor, and Marley put her key in her door. Sure you do. Before opening the door and walking into her living room, she faced him. I can smell the horse manure emanating from your condo every time the wind shifts.

Laughing, he stood in her doorway, his hand braced against the doorjamb.

This engagement will be over by the time I get back.

He pulled his hand away before she could close the door on his fingers.

Brant stayed in her thoughts for some time while she packed for her trip. As long as the engagement was in her imagination, why not stick with him as her fiancé? He did have some qualities she found attractive. That smile, for instance. Yes, she could definitely wrap a fake engagement around that.

Marley glanced at her watch and decided Dede should be home by now. When she answered, Marley said, You’ll never guess what. I met Brant coming into our building. She choked back laughter. I can’t believe he caught me taking his picture and... She paused to gain control of her voice. I told him I needed a fiancé, and he’s it.

Marley would need a ring, she suddenly realized, something concrete to show her family so they’d believe she’d finally found her man.

Meet me tomorrow, Dede, before I catch my plane, and help me pick out an engagement ring.

CHAPTER TWO

BRANT HARDLY SLEPT. When he did Marley Roman appeared in his dreams with the guitar he’d heard her play on occasion. In fact, he was quite sure he’d heard her playing the previous evening. Maybe it was his imagination. The condo was pretty soundproof, and he’d only heard her the few times she’d gone out onto the balcony they shared. And she had been good, progressing through chords he’d struggled with for years. Not to mention her riffs. She could certainly teach him how to improve his technique.

His sister Elaina, oddly still dressed in the fancy outfit she’d worn the previous night, had coffee ready when he came into the kitchen. She used one of his guest rooms whenever she came into Phoenix. Morning, he said as he took a seat on the stool in front of the bar, deciding not to ask her why she hadn’t changed clothes. How was the concert?

Perfect. It was a duo with a cello and guitar. Got to meet both the man and woman after and thought I might take up the cello again. She pushed a full cup of black coffee over to him.

I remember you playing back when I was in grammar school. You sure you want to put my poor nieces and nephews through that torture? He moved away from her attempt to swat him. Usually you’re out of here before the rush hour. Who’s minding the ranch while you’re away? Elaina managed their father’s ranch a good 50 miles northwest of Phoenix. His two other sisters were also involved in the family’s large holdings. Something he’d managed to avoid.

I delegate. Elaina took the stool next to him and watched over the brim of her mug. Dad wants to talk to you.

Brant swiveled around so that he faced a window. You know what about?

No, but I think you do. He expected to see you when you finished that last picture. You’re on hiatus now, aren’t you?

Brant got up and walked over to the sink. Yeah. I have a few things to take care of and then I’ll come up. Brant had dreaded the day when he’d have to give in to his father’s wishes and take over the responsibilities at the ranch. If only he could delay the inevitable. He excused himself and headed to the vestibule.

Brant had every intention of meeting Marley again this morning, and this time it wouldn’t be by accident. After opening his door, he picked up his tablet and a book, the former to read and the latter to keep the door ajar so he wouldn’t miss her. Then he sat in his foyer, facing the door.

What are you doing?

Waiting to see my neighbor.

Elaina laughed. Why not ring her doorbell?

It’s awkward. We got engaged last night and—

You what?

Brant held up his hand when he heard Marley’s door open and placed his finger against his lips. He stood, tossed the tablet onto the chair, pulled open his door, and kicked the chair with the tablet aside before entering the hall.

Well, what have we got here? In a Texas twang, another accent he’d perfected for the detective book he had to read for his next gig, Brant added, My lovely fiancée. Aren’t you just the morning sunshine.

That elicited a dirty look from Marley. Maybe he was being too obnoxious. Sleep well? She didn’t answer as he walked her to the elevator.

Reverting to his normal voice, he asked, Care to join me for that cup of coffee?

No, thank you. Finally a response. I’m meeting someone.

It better not be a male acquaintance. I can be ferocious if another man shows my fiancée any attention.

I’m meeting my friend Dede to pick out a ring for my false engagement.

Well, then I have to come, too. How else would you know what I’d choose for you?

As they got off the elevator, he put on his straw cowboy hat, hoping it would offer some concealment. He still hadn’t shaved, and his beard was starting to itch, but it did help hide his face.

For what felt like the hundredth time, he wished his face wasn’t plastered all over Phoenix.

* * *

SHE’D SPOTTED HER before the door closed. A woman in Brant’s condo. Brant the player, with beautiful women at his beck and call. No matter how much Marley tried to focus on something else, she couldn’t. An attractive woman had closed Brant’s door, and it wasn’t the maid. Marley had glimpsed chiffon and glitter, dressy for a Saturday morning.

What did she care? As a bachelor, Brant could have a dozen girlfriends. Since his return from Australia, Marley had noticed him with at least two.

Brant stayed right next to her every step of the way to meet Dede. Still unshaven, he wore another chambray shirt, this one with long sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The shirt had its breast pocket ripped off, the stitching visible around the square of unfaded blue. The jeans must have been new, though, since they didn’t have any observable holes. Marley herself was dressed in black pants and a white shirt for comfort on the plane.

Any thought of losing Brant disappeared when they reached the restaurant where she and Dede planned to meet.

Hi, there, Dede said to Brant. I’m Dede Sanchez and you must be Marley’s fiancé.

Brant stuck out his hand. That I am. Glad to meet you, Dede. Shall we get some coffee before buying the ring? He put his hand on Marley’s shoulder, aiming her toward the entrance of the restaurant.

She stopped. We don’t have the time. Need to get that ring before I catch my plane.

Brant pointed down the street. There’s a great pawnshop a block from here with a large selection. I know the owner, and I’m sure he’ll give us a deal.

Why did he include himself in everything as though they really had a relationship? Annoyed, Marley said, I’m buying the ring, Brant. This engagement is fake, remember?

Precisely, love. Again with that British accent. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once inside the store, Brant shook hands with a man who was