Fill-In Fiancee by Deanna Talcott

Author:Deanna Talcott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The plane was late. Brett and Sunny burned off their anxiety by walking and quizzing each other.

“My best friend was…?”

“John. John Chesterfield.”

“I met him where?”

“Highfields Academy, where you both went to school. He was a year older than you and your mother blamed him for getting you into so much trouble.”

“Precisely.”

“Your father liked John until he invited him to go sailing with your family, and he accidentally set the boat adrift. It happened in July, the day before your mother’s birthday.”

Brett’s stride faltered as he looked down at her. “You have an amazing memory,” he praised.

“Don’t worry, my mind will go blank the moment your parents walk down the gangplank.”

“Runway,” he automatically corrected.

“Whatever. Gangplank feels like the more appropriate term. I figure this debacle will either make me sink or swim.”

“Sunny, don’t you have any confidence in yourself?”

She worried the ring on her fourth finger, left hand. “Not particularly, no.”

“My parents are going to love you!”

But apparently they didn’t plan to love her. Not one little bit. For the moment they passed through the gate, and Sunny recognized the sour expression on her future mother-in-law’s face, she wilted. Her father-in-law looked equally grim. Sunny’s knees nearly buckled.

Brett stepped forward briskly. “Mother! Father!” he called, raising his arm the same way he’d hail a cab.

His mother swiveled, her chin lifted and her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised to an impossible degree. Her eyes were bright and sharp, and they briefly settled on Brett. Then her full, dark lashes narrowed to a discreet line as she gave Sunny the once-over.

To withstand the scrutiny, Sunny made her frozen mouth smile back.

The soft contours of Lady Miriam’s features were strained. Brick-red lipstick outlined her pinched mouth, and a recent dusting of face powder put a matte finish on her pallor. Against her navy-blue traveling suit, her flashy gold and sapphire jewelry—bracelet, pendant and eardrops—made a singular upscale statement. The wide brim of her matching hat perched atop swirls of platinum-blond hair.

Had she met this woman in the mall or on the street, Sunny would have cut a wide swath around her.

Lord Arthur’s features, however, relaxed the moment he laid eyes on his son. His sooty hair carried a glimmer of gray at the temples and was perfectly styled in the classic “businessman’s cut.” His cheeks, stained a slightly ruddy color, boasted the weathered look of sport. Sunny saw parts of Brett in his father’s good looks—the broad forehead, blunt chin and strong jawline. He was robust and hearty, and wore a suit and tie as if they were casual clothes. He carried an umbrella in one hand, a newspaper in the other.

“Mother.” Brett kissed her on the cheek, using obvious care not to bump her hat or disturb her makeup. She patted him affectionately on the back and turned to Sunny, waiting for the introduction. “Father.” Brett’s father embraced him with a bear hug, the paper crumpling, the umbrella jutting out at a dangerous angle.

“You’re looking good, my boy.”

“I am,” Brett agreed, his smile growing.

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