The Tycoon’s Fake Fiancée: European Tycoon Book Two Read online

  History. Maybe that was the key to convincing Gavin of the importance of his garden. After all, it was important, in more ways than one. Not only for the sake of preserving one of England's timeless estates, but it was important to her family's livelihood. Sarah knew her aunt and uncle's landscaping firm couldn't survive without this account, and since they had taken her in after the shock and grief of her father's death, she felt she owed them everything. They were not going to lose the same roof over their heads that had sheltered her this past month.

  And now that her aunt was sick...

  In a way, this was the universe's gift to her: an opportunity to rescue them as they had rescued her. She had thought all along that there was no way she could ever repay them. Now, she wouldn't falter.

  Not even when faced with the stubborn, far-too-handsome face of Gavin Burrows.

  * * *

  "...so you see, the importance of a garden in this instance cannot be emphasized enough."

  She was babbling, she knew, talking way too much and too fast, and desperately aware of Gavin's eyes on her, dark and impenetrable. But she couldn't let their steady burn fluster her. She was a woman on a mission, and she had to get through to him. Her livelihood—the livelihood of her family—was at stake.

  "Considering this castle's history of housing royalty, and its placement on all of the historical tours in the area—"

  "I'm already aware of all that." Gavin dropped his eyes from their steady regard to consider the pictures she had brought with her.

  "Then... then I assume you're also aware it would be a travesty to let the outer gardens go to waste." Sarah blushed at her nervous stammer and vowed to do better. She wouldn't let this man fluster her, even though he, above all men, had earned the right to do so. "The landscaper who most recently designed the gardens was Elton Morris. He's famous the world over."

  Gavin steepled his fingers, maddeningly calm. "Why shouldn't I just hire him? Where is he now?"

  "Long retired," she hastened to reply. She had to slow down. She couldn't let herself come across as too desperate. Gavin was a formidable businessman, she knew; even though she had never exactly dealt with that side of him, she knew his reputation, and he was living up to it now. Maybe she should have suggested a location other than his office at the castle. "The garden was designed for Princess Rebecca's coming-out party twenty years ago, if you recall."

  "I recall,” he said quietly

  His eyes were on her again. A hot shiver chased its way down her spine. Suddenly, Sarah had no idea exactly what Gavin was in the process of remembering behind that impassive expression. The pants and blazer she had worn for their meeting suddenly didn't feel like enough—not when she was standing before a man who had seen her naked in the past. More than seen.

  "S-so what I'm proposing is this." Sarah fumbled her folder open and passed him the mockups she had painted last night. "The garden has been neglected for the last year or so, but it's not beyond saving. At the moment, it's overrun, but we’ll trim it back and simplify. We’ll shoot for something smaller, less ambitious, while maintaining Morris's original vision. It will require less work and a smaller crew," she concluded. Really, she felt proud of herself for coming up with this solution and working it all out last night. The upkeep on the new garden would cost its owner far less but still be enough to save her family's business and allow them to live comfortably.

  "What makes you think I would accept this proposal?" Gavin set her plans aside (with barely a glance over them, in her opinion) and folded his arms. "I thought I was fairly clear in our conversation yesterday that I didn't intend to hire—or rehire—anyone."

  She felt almost as if he was daring her to admit their personal history—to confess that it was what had led her to believe he would listen to her. The topic hadn't come up in conversation (yet), and Sarah couldn't help wondering who either of them might be trying to fool by ignoring it. Still, she refused to rise to his bait.

  "I thought my presentation would speak for itself," she replied stubbornly, but then couldn’t help adding, "Unless your mind was elsewhere?"

  His eyes flashed, then swept her frame before he appeared able to control his point of focus. Sarah suppressed another shiver. If he kept looking at her hungrily like that, she was liable to shake apart at this rate.

  "I've been paying attention," he returned. "Have you? I said I don't want a garden." He spoke the words evenly, without any emotion behind them at all.

  "I'm here to tell you why you do."

  "No one tells me what I—" Gavin trailed off suddenly.

  Sarah blinked. She had been ready to spar, and his retreat was unexpected.

  He pulled the folder to him and examined it thoughtfully. Considering he hadn't opened it again, she was pretty sure he was dwelling on something other than its contents. He took a preliminary breath and said, "...let's say I decide to consider your proposal." His complete one-eighty left her so winded, she had to fight the impulse to give up her presentational style and sit down. "Only consider. What would you be willing to do for me in return?"

  "Do for you?" Now she did take a hard seat across from him. Exactly what was Gavin driving at? Her thoughts strayed to just how hard he could drive certain parts of his anatomy when he put his mind to it, and there was no more suppressing the blush that had been creeping up on her all day. She was certain her cheeks were as red as the roses she was hoping to cultivate as she continued the thought. "I'm not following you."

  "My mother is throwing me a castle-warming party." Gavin leaned further back in his chair and steepled his fingers again thoughtfully. "That’s apparently a thing people do."

  "Well, apparently people also buy castles on a whim," Sarah pointed out. Gavin frowned—as if it had never before occurred to him that the expenditure was out of the ordinary. Sarah sighed. Billionaires, she thought. Not that she knew any personally besides Gavin, but she had read about his contemporary, Maximillian Benton, purchasing another castle just down the way.

  "It wasn't a whim," he said at last. "I crave privacy. Solitude. Space to be alone, to think. This place was supposed to grant me all those things."

  "Sounds like a castle-warming party isn't really your style," Sarah noted. She remembered this side of him... the thoughtful loner who bordered on being a recluse. Of course, he hadn't seemed particularly desirous of being alone back then—at least, not when they were together.

  "Precisely why I need someone to come with me," Gavin replied.

  Sarah sat a little straighter. "What? I'm afraid I'm not following."

  Gavin snorted. "Do I have to come right out and say it? I need a date, Sarah. I need a beautiful woman to accompany me, to keep all the others at bay."

  Sarah tried to ignore the fact that he had just complimented her; she was sure he hadn’t meant it at all deliberately. Better not to dwell too deeply on the words of a man trying to lease her femininity for an evening. "So what you're saying is you need a scarecrow to put in your field," she mused aloud. "You need a decoy to scare off the crows, or in this case, the crowds of women that you think will be circling you."

  "I don't think anything," Gavin said stiffly. "They will be there. My mother has already ensured it. And your metaphor, by the way..."

  "Good one, huh?" Sarah beamed with self-satisfaction and sat back.

  Gavin snorted. "I would expect nothing less from a woman who spends her waking hours surrounded by flowers and agricultural endeavors."

  "Sounds like you’re jealous. Sounds like you'd rather be surrounded by anything but the people who love you." Sarah couldn't help the trace of bitterness that entered her voice, and she hated herself for it. She couldn't help thinking about her own deceased parents, or her aunt's failing health...

  "If there's anything I hate more than the idea of gardens, it's the idea of marriage and family," Gavin said flatly. His forthrightness on the matter shocked her speechless. To Sarah, nothing was more important in the world than family. "In my family, marriage inevitably me
ans children, and lots of people around all the time demanding things: time, attention...” He paused, and she fought the urge to shift uneasily as his gaze drilled into her. “Money. All resources I hold dear."

  "Oh, dear," Sarah blurted as he finished his monologue. How on earth had she missed this side of him all those years ago? Then again, had they ever really delved deeply into talking about their families... or about what they might want in the long term? "Why are you telling me all this?"

  Gavin rocked forward in his chair. All pretense of the cool, unmovable businessman fell away; he stroked a hand through his dark chocolate locks and grimaced his frustration. "I want you to have a better understanding of me and my situation. If you were to agree to act as my date tomorrow night, I wouldn't consider it a small gesture."

  "But you would consider my proposal?" Sarah perked up. "If I agree to be your date?"

  "Do you agree?"

  Gavin was leaning in now, and it was a belated moment before Sarah realized that she was as well. She caught her breath and sat back quickly. "No," she said. "I don't agree."

  "Why not?"

  "Because this was meant to be a business call, not a... a social call!"

  "Do I seem like the type of man who accepts or seeks out social calls?"

  She wished she could respond with a “yes,” but the sad truth of the matter was, Gavin in her experience had never been particularly extroverted. That was a large part of what had drawn her to him, all those summers ago... his brooding good looks, guarded intelligence, his mystery.

  She had admitted to herself years ago that she had fallen in love with Gavin Burrows. Now, the man she had privately measured every other lover against was telling her he didn't want a family, didn't want kids; hell, he seemed to barely want friends. He might as well have hoisted a red flag on the castle’s battlements to warn her away.

  But she couldn't back down now. Her aunt and uncle in Scarborough were counting on her. And it wasn’t as if Gavin were asking her on an actual date. All her concerns that this man might be all wrong for her were wildly misplaced.

  This wasn't love. Not anymore. This was business. And she could deal—in more ways than one, she could deal.

  Sarah mulled her lower lip between her teeth as she turned all this over; then, she presented her hand to him. She felt stupid, soliciting a shake for something that was so far beyond any normal deal.

  But Gavin clasped her palm, gripping it hard in his, and she knew he was serious. They both were. Both had ends to arrive at, and the other was their means.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  3

  Gavin blamed his mother.

  He considered Olivia Burrows to be completely at fault for driving him to take such drastic action. She had, at long last—and quite literally—driven him crazy.

  What on earth had possessed him to ask Sarah to fake a date with him? Hell, what on earth had convinced her? Did her aunt and uncle’s business really hinge on whether or not his estate had a garden?

  “Late,” Gavin hissed through clenched teeth as he checked his watch for the hundredth time that evening. “I told her what time it started. Didn’t I?” Suddenly, he was no longer sure. Best check his email again, send her another digital calendar card to confirm—

  “Gavvy, are you really so lonesome, you’re over here talking to yourself?” A languid, waif-thin arm looped itself through his and pulled the face of his watch away from his consideration. It was all Gavin could do to avoid breaking out in a cold sweat as he turned to find… what was her name again? One of the two brunettes his mother had corralled for the evening. This one blinked large, doelike eyes up at him in a rapid-fire, affected flutter: one, two, three.

  The castle-warming party was in full swing around them. Family, friends—though Max and Tony had apparently ignored his insistence that they attend—and forced acquaintances pressed in on him from all sides. His mother beamed her false promise of a smile across the room at him. He might be a drowning man, but the matriarch of the Burrows family was no lighthouse.

  Sarah was still nowhere to be seen.

  “Excuse me.” Gavin extricated his arm from the taloned grip of the woman beside him and hastily made for the refreshment table.

  “Told you that you were buggered,” a husky female voice said at his elbow.

  This particular brunette was one he recognized: Geneva, his sister. She held out a glass of champagne to him, and Gavin, identifying it as a lifeline, snatched it from her. He downed it in a single swig, ignoring whatever disapproving expression his mother was making a world away. It was all too likely that the woman was more dismayed by the fact he was talking to his own sister than his drinking habits this evening.

  “Gavvy! Why did you walk away like that?” The clingy brunette pouted her bee-stung lower lip as she advanced his way. “Unless…?” Her eyes brightened. “Oh! You came over here to get me a drink?

  “Not likely,” Geneva muttered in that sisterly register only attentive brothers could hear.

  “Gavin!” Another woman, this one honey blonde, was suddenly flanking him on his left. “You excused yourself to the restroom an hour ago! Where have you been?”

  Over the heads of the partygoers milling around him, Gavin identified a third woman coming his way. The sea of people parted for her like water before the knifing fin of a shark. Gavin’s pulse tripled its pace, one frantic beat extra per designing woman. He didn’t have to look across the room to know that his mother’s self-satisfied smile had returned. He didn’t even have to glance sideways at Geneva to understand his sister was probably enjoying herself at his expense.

  What the hell? he thought furiously. Sarah, where are you?

  And just like that, an angry thought, a private curse aimed at the woman who had agreed to be his date, that was all it took. A new player entered the field: a golden blonde appeared in the doorway to the ballroom, shifting her coat into the butler’s grasp and nodding her thanks. Her makeup was minimal, her expression pensive, but she glowed like an angelic visitation in her shimmering silver-white dress. More than a few heads turned to take in her striking (though tardy) appearance.

  Even had Sarah the horticulturalist been wearing a potato sack, to Gavin, in that moment, she was the most beautiful woman on earth. He saw her eyes light on him, and she began to slowly wind her way toward him.

  Definitely not fast enough. Gavin pulled himself free from the two women sandwiching him and began to make his own way toward her. They would meet in the middle, he decided, and his plan would be…

  “Gavin?” The shark was suddenly before him, brandishing her too-white teeth. “Were you going to ask me to dance?”

  “I…” Dancing, for him, of course, had always been out of the question. What woman in her right mind wanted a partner who would steer her sideways like a shopping cart with a bad wheel? He could hold his own on the dance floor, but he hadn’t exactly excelled at dancing lessons after that fateful family vacation had rendered him—

  “Gavin?” Sarah paused a short distance from them, and one of her eyebrows flickered in question.

  “Goodness, I can see my son is popular this evening!” Gavin’s mother and sister chose that moment to join their small assembly. His blood pressure was through the roof. He clearly had no control over the situation unfolding, no say in anything the women in his life proposed to do with him.

  Well, this was his castle-warming, damn it. It was his life.

  Time to re-seize control.

  “Mother… Geneva…” He gave a protracted pause when his attention fell to the predatory woman whose name he couldn’t pinpoint, and then he moved on. “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Sarah.”

  Fiancée. The word seemed to hang suspended in the air above them. The eyes of his mother, and those of the woman clinging to him, bulged. Geneva choked on her champagne.

  “How do you do?” Sarah stepped forward, breaking the awkward pause, and extended her hand. Before any of the women could take it—o
r worse, ignore the gesture completely in their shock—Gavin swooped and seized it for himself. He’d thought he had expended every surprise he had in him, until he’d heard himself speak words that had never before left his mouth:

  “I think you’ve kept me waiting long enough. Shall we dance?”

  * * *

  Dance.

  She hadn’t expected him to ask her to dance. She had expected to show up, grit her teeth, and drape herself on his arm like a piece of costume jewelry until the event was over.

  But a lot of unexpected things were happening tonight.

  “Fiancée?” she hissed as Gavin spun her through the other careening bodies. “What the hell? I didn’t agree to a fake engagement!”

  “You played it perfectly,” he responded. Was he really as cool as he seemed, or had he introduced her in a panic—as she somehow expected he had?

  “I have never been engaged, and I certainly don’t intend to be for all of an evening,” Sarah replied. Her eyes swept the room, and she pressed closer to him instinctively. “Everyone’s staring at us, Gavin.”

  “Let them stare.” His eyes were on her, too, but at least there was some sanctuary in them. His arms around her were achingly familiar, and she had to fight herself not to sink into them completely. No matter what her heart told her in that moment, she wasn’t safe. Gavin, the shrewd businessman, the brilliant inventor, was even more unpredictable than her memory of him, in fact, more than anyone in her experience. The man she had fallen for three years ago might be responsible for her falling again.

  “I have a new proposition,” Gavin continued. “One that will end with us both getting what we want.”

  “I’m listening.” Not that she had much choice; Gavin spun her and stepped lightly to the side to catch her. She was surprised at his agility. She had thought his leg would be an encumbrance, but he wasn’t letting it slow him down tonight. Not at all.