“I could rub your neck for you before we go,” she said.

“Worker’s compensation?” he asked, his eyes sparkling, as if he knew exactly why she’d offered. She’d practically drooled over him when she’d seen him shirtless.

“Just for a little while,” he said after a few seconds.

“Shirt off, please,” she said, aiming for casualness.

He unbuttoned it then tossed it onto the second chair. Becca set her hands on his shoulders. His skin felt warm and smooth, his muscles bunched and tight.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “It’ll be more effective.”

She felt his shoulders relax but noticed that he wasn’t shutting his eyes, his gaze aimed at the kitchen. To distract himself? Did he think he wouldn’t feel her touch as much?

“Close your eyes, Gavin. Enjoy it.”

“I might enjoy it too much.”

Dear Reader,

How do you measure success? In Husband for Hire, I explore that question, seeking answers to a subject that is individual and personal. What constitutes success can only be defined by the individual, obviously, but there are universal aspects, especially regarding the balance of work and play. Now and then we need to slow down, step back and take a look at where we’ve been, where we are and where we’re going. And if we don’t like what we see, we need the courage to change. Change is hard, as my characters Gavin and Becca discover, but well worth the journey. Learning to stop and smell the roses isn’t a cliché for them, but a necessary action to peace of mind—and to finding love.

I hope you enjoy their journey,

Susan

About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after. More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

Husband
for Hire
Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jerry and Linda, a hardworking couple who also remember to stop and smell the roses—and the cactus! You’re such an inspiration.

Chapter One

“I knew it,” Gavin Callahan said, aiming his fork at his sister Shana. “I knew you had an ulterior motive for inviting me to lunch.”

The downtown Sacramento bistro teemed with lunchgoers whose voices echoed in the small space. Gavin had been thoroughly enjoying a well-prepared Cobb salad—until Shana dropped her bombshell.

“Hear me out before you dismiss the idea altogether,” Shana said, flicking her golden-blond hair out of her face. “You’d only be pretending to be some one’s husband for two days. That’s all. Two short days out of your life. Really, Gavin, what else are you doing, anyway? You’re on leave from work. You’re single. You’re free to come and go. It could be fun.”

“It doesn’t interest me in the least. And I took a leave of absence for a reason, Shana.”

“Please, please, please,” she begged. “You won acting awards in high school. You were good! It’ll be fun, and you’ll be doing me a favor that could end up boosting my career with the agency. Pretty please, Gavin. You want to help a single mom struggling to raise a baby girl, don’t you? Your own sweet niece …”

Gavin laughed at her dramatic cajoling. At twenty-nine, she was five years younger than he. They hadn’t been particularly close while growing up, and until recently they hadn’t even seen each other for ten years, although that hadn’t been his fault.

“You’re aware of what I’ve been through in the past year,” he said. “I was assaulted by enough lies to know I wouldn’t want to deliberately participate in one myself. Plus, I respect the institution of marriage. And another thing, how do you think anyone successfully fakes being married, even for two days?” He shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

Shana reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I’m serious about this helping my career,” she said earnestly. “Julia Swanson—she’s the one who owns the temp agency—is desperate. If I can find a man to take the job, she’ll think of me first for the really good jobs that come in. The more money I make, the less dependent I am on anyone else. I want to stand on my own, Gavin.”

“Now you’ve stooped to emotional blackmail?” he asked, although his heart did twist just a little.

“Did it work?” She looked hopeful and expectant, with just enough mischievousness in her eyes to make him smile.

He took a sip of water, watching her, letting her wait. Finally he said, “I’ll meet with this Julia Swanson and see what she has to say.”

Shana bounced up and ran around the table to hug him, almost choking the breath out of him.

“I’m not promising anything,” he said sternly.

“Julia can talk anyone into doing anything.” She looked smug as she sat down again. “You have a one-o’clock appointment with her, so hurry up and finish your lunch.”

“Pretty sure of yourself,” he said, catching their server’s attention to get the bill.

“‘Be prepared,’ you know,” she quipped. “Her office is on the third floor of the building across the street. I’ll go with you.”

“You’ve done enough, thank you. I can take it from here.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Call me when you’ve decided, either way, okay?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” They walked outside. Shana pointed to the building. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said, then hugged her, relieved to feel the few pounds she’d put on recently. She was still too slender, but it was progress.

Gavin made his way to the office of At Your Service, a high-end clerical and household staffing business. For the past few months Shana had been working temp jobs through the agency—nicknamed by its clients “Wives for Hire.” Or in this case, Gavin thought, “Husband for Hire.” He wondered if this spin on their nickname had ever happened before.

“Ms. Swanson will be right with you,” a pretty brunette receptionist said to him after he entered the quiet, tasteful office. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

Although several chairs were lined up in the reception area, Gavin couldn’t sit. Instead he wandered over to a window overlooking the busy street below. He could almost feel the energy—mostly negative—crackling inside him. He didn’t like being placed in this position. He wanted Shana to be successful, but—

“Hello, Gavin,” said a smooth, female voice from behind him. “I’m Julia Swanson. Please come in.”

The woman was ageless and elegant, from her demure ash-blond upsweep to her sage-green suit to her four-inch heels, which brought her within a couple of inches of his six feet. He followed her into her office. On the wall behind her wide, mahogany desk was the company logo, along with the words When you need the personal touch … printed in gold-script lettering, classy and subdued, like everything else about Julia Swanson’s business.

“Have a seat,” she said as she sat behind her desk.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing at her window. “I’ve been living in San Francisco for so long, I forget Sacramento has a distinctive skyline of its own.”

“I love this town. It’s a big city but with a neighborhood feel.” She opened a folder on her desktop. “Your sister wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Knowing Shana, I’m not sure I want you to explain that.”

Julia smiled. “She said you were tall, surfer-blond and handsome.”

“Surfer?” He shoved his fingers through his hair, long overdue for a cut. “That’s payback for me calling her Goldilocks since she was a kid, I suppose.”

“I understand a man in your position would normally never take nor even need to take a temporary job like this,” Julia said. “It pays well, but I think that’s beside the point for you. Frankly you’d be doing me a favor, and you don’t owe me anything.”

“On the contrary. Shana has blossomed since she got involved with At Your Service. My sister Dixie and I are grateful. A favor wouldn’t be out of order here. Which is why I’m here talking to you, at least.”

“Thank you for that. Someone gave me a big break once. I never forget it.”

Gavin had also gotten a few breaks here and there. He remembered how grateful he’d been, had tried to repay the generosity when he could.

“I admire Shana,” Julia said. “She’s incredibly hardworking but also flexible, which is often an even more important quality in this field. What describes you, Gavin?”

“I’ve been accused of working 24/7, which is not true. It’s more like 18/7. And in my line of work, being flexible is also critical.” He shrugged. “You do understand that I’m here only because Shana begged me? The job itself doesn’t really interest me, especially the lying. I doubt I could do it.”

Julia settled in more comfortably, a small smile on her face. He could usually pinpoint a woman’s age, but this woman could be on either side of forty by several years.

“That goes both ways, Gavin. I’m not sure about you yet, either, even with your sister’s glowing recommendation. I did find a lot about you online.”

He waited for her to follow up on that statement, but she left it there, hanging.

“I take it I passed or I wouldn’t have gotten this far in the process,” he said.

“The only blemish anywhere in your background was your recent legal problem, but that’s resolved, I see. I do require your permission to run a credit check before I recommend you to the client. It speaks to character, you know.”

“My ‘recent legal problem,’” he repeated, wondering how long it would take before it stopped hurting when he thought about it. “Resolved but not forgotten. And your client has been vetted also? I don’t want to worry about her trying to take advantage of my virtuous nature.”

Julia laughed softly. “Yes, she’s been thoroughly investigated. On paper and in person, she comes across as decent, except …”

He waited through her silence until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Except?”

“I’m trying to find the right word. She’s desperate, but I think that’s her current state, not her norm. I imagine you’re a pretty good judge of character, so why don’t you just meet her and see for yourself?”

He found it interesting that Julia called the client desperate. Shana had called Julia that, yet the cool, calm woman gave no hint of desperation. “And if I don’t take the job?”

“We’ve got nine days. I’ll fill the position. Maybe not with someone who meets the requirements as well as you do, but that’s not your problem, is it?”

Oh, she was good. A velvet steamroller. He saw why she was successful, especially in the high-end market, where charm and good taste mattered a lot.

“All right. I’ll talk to her,” he said, not promising anything else.

Julia passed him two forms. One gave her permission to run his credit check, the other was already filled out with the name Rebecca Sheridan and an address. “I’ll call you on your cell phone to cancel the interview if something in your credit check doesn’t cut it. Otherwise, she’ll be available at six o’clock at home. I’ll let her know to expect you. If you’ll call and leave me a message when your interview is over, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

They stood and shook hands, their eyes meeting. He wondered what her story was. She didn’t wear a wedding ring. No personal photos sat on her desk. Women tended to have pictures visible, especially of their children.

“Thank you, Gavin. Shana deserves a bonus.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

Julia smiled slowly. “Yet.”

Gavin said goodbye and left the office, taking the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator. He emerged into the late-April day breathing normally for what seemed like the first time in … well, in a year, if he was being honest. He had something other than himself to focus on at last.

He could thank his bossy kid sister for that. Maybe, in time, he would.

Becca Sheridan was running late. Like the rest of her coworkers she rarely left work before seven o’clock. Today she had an appointment at six, which meant she had only fifteen minutes to walk to her downtown, high-rise loft and tidy things up a little before the candidate arrived. Gavin, she recalled. Gavin Callahan.

A nice name, she decided. He sounded professional.

Suki Takeda leaned into Becca’s open doorway. “Are you excited?”

“I can’t believe I’m going along with this ruse.”

“It’ll get your brothers off your back, won’t it?”

“If I can convince them it’s true.” Becca gave her best friend a doubtful look then grabbed her briefcase. “You know them. They’re suspicious by nature.”

“If you convince Eric, the other three will buy it.” Suki looked around as if she were a spy, her short black ponytail quivering with the quick movements. “You made a good decision to use an agency instead of asking one of the guys here.”

“I couldn’t take that chance. This way it’s a business deal only. No strings. No repercussions.”

“Call me when he leaves.” Suki pointed a finger at Becca. “If you don’t, you can bet I’ll show up on your doorstep. I really do think you ought to meet at a coffee shop, you know.”

“I know. But the agency checks everyone out. I’ll be fine.” She hugged Suki as she rushed out her office door. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck!”

The cheerful shout stayed with Becca as she was leaving the office, waving goodbye. Craig was tossing a basketball into the air over and over, as usual, doing his best thinking at the same time, according to him. Jacob and Morgan were challenging each other with online search games, part of their job. Chip, the president and CEO, might be in his office or playing Ping-Pong in the company rec room.

No one asked why she was leaving early. Staff came and went at their own hours, for the most part. It only mattered that the work got done and that the only arguments between coworkers were about creative differences.

Becca couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked home when the street was this noisy with traffic and crowded with people. What she needed was a moment of calm. Maybe the man would be late and she could catch her breath first….

Although it wouldn’t bode well for him if he wasn’t on time for their first meeting, she thought.

She rushed into the lobby of her shiny, modern high-rise, then took the stairs to the fourth floor. When she turned the corner of her hallway she saw a man leaning against the wall next to her door, his hands in his pockets.

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d heard the expression for years but hadn’t known how it felt. Her heart did skip, then it pounded once, a loud, powerful thump to jump-start itself. He was gorgeous—tall and lean, with streaked blond hair, long enough to curl against his neck.

And green eyes, she noted when she reached him, direct and intelligent. Straight white teeth.

She’d hit the jackpot.

“Gavin Callahan?” she asked, finding her voice.

“Yes. Rebecca Sheridan?” He smiled as he said it, looking into her eyes as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Everyone calls me Becca. I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said, extending her hand, not even startled at the sizzle of electricity when their skin touched. She’d known it would happen.

Just as she knew he was going to be trouble, too.

“I was early,” he said, releasing her hand, which continued to tingle.

“Please come in.” She unlocked her door and preceded him into the space that was even more disastrous than she’d remembered. “I’m sorry about the mess. I got home around midnight from a week in Chicago.” Which accounted for her suitcase and a few other items, but not the piles of magazines, folders and other paperwork that had accumulated on most surfaces.

“I need help, obviously,” she said, smiling apologetically. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

“I have iced tea, if you’d like.” She opened her refrigerator and looked inside. She’d shopped before going to work this morning. “I picked up some cheese and crackers. Will you join me? I’m starving.” And stalling. Explaining what she wanted him to do wasn’t easy. In fact, it was downright embarrassing.

“Um, sure.” He came up to the bar separating the kitchen from the combination dining and living room. The counter was piled with paperwork. Around the room were a lot of moving boxes, taped shut.

“Did you just move in?” he asked.

“Five months ago,” she said, unwrapping the cheese plate. “I don’t have much spare time. I’m gone more than I’m home, and it’s not unusual for me to work twelve-hour days.”

“Julia didn’t tell me anything about you. What kind of work do you do?” he asked.

“I’m vice president of operations and business development at Umbrella Masters, Inc. It’s a computer cloud company.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

She had to explain what the business was so often, she’d memorized a response, which she recited as she poured two glasses of iced tea. “It’s internet-based computing where our customers don’t have to own the physical infrastructure but can rent usage from a third-party provider. Through the cloud, as it’s called, the customer can use or borrow someone else’s network when they need it rather than buy it themselves. It saves the customers time, money and resources in a big way. It’s a business still in its infancy, but it’s creating serious revenue waves.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.” I’m just exhausted all the time. “I’m one of the founders, so the rewards of building some thing from the bottom up have been huge and satisfying.”

“What’d you do on your trip to Chicago?”

She spread some crackers on a plate, setting it on the counter. “Negotiated a contract with a new vendor.”

“Successfully?” He carried the two plates as she took the glasses into the living room to put on the coffee table then sat down on the couch.

“Yes, very successful. Oh! I forgot the grapes.” She started to stand.

“I’ll get them. If you don’t mind?”

“No, that’s fine. Thanks. They need to be washed.” Although she was hungry enough to eat the whole plate of food, she waited for him.

“How do you celebrate a success like that?” he asked from the kitchen, the water running, his voice suddenly seeming far away.

“Maybe with a vacation.” She nestled into the cushions a little and yawned. If she could only close her eyes for just a minute. Just a minute…. “I haven’t gone anywhere in years because we were building the business. I’ve been dreaming about Hawaii….”

Gavin carried the grapes into the living room then noticed her eyes were closed.

He set down the plate. When she didn’t budge, he inched closer. Asleep. She had to be completely worn-out to fall asleep in front of a stranger. He’d been that tired many times in his life. Too many. He resisted the temptation to move her shiny brown hair away from her face, where it had fallen.

Now what?

He carried the plate to the kitchen counter, moved some of her papers to the floor and then snacked a little, feeling like an intruder. After a while he put the remainder in the refrigerator. His hands shoved into his pockets, he looked for a way to pass the time, but for all the stacks of reading material, everything seemed to be about business and computers, subjects that generally started him yawning.

He took out his cell phone and played Flight Control for a while but found he was too distracted by her to concentrate. She’d tucked her arms close to her slender body, as if chilled. He wondered if she needed a blanket over her.

Keeping an eye and ear open, he peeked hesitantly into the first doorway and discovered a bedroom, but it was crammed with boxes. The second door led to the master bedroom, which wasn’t messy at all but lacked furniture. Without unmaking her bed, he didn’t see a blanket, not even a decorative throw. He could go on a hunt, he supposed, but figured she wouldn’t appreciate that.

Framed photographs drew him closer to her dresser. The largest frame held a picture of a couple in their wedding finery from years ago—her parents? There was a small candid shot of a maybe five-year-old Becca with the woman from the wedding photo, both wearing matching dresses. There was a newer shot of Becca seated in a red Ferrari convertible, waving both hands high in the air. Hers? Unlikely, given the cost of the car. Several other photos caught his eye, but he didn’t take the time to look too closely, not wanting to get caught prying.

From all appearances, she seemed to be a successful woman accustomed to life’s comforts, including a loving family. So, why the lie? Obviously she was exhausted, frazzled and disorganized—not endearing traits, at least for him. He liked women who had their act together.

And women who were honest.

She lived on easy street, and now she wanted someone to help her out of a jam she’d gotten herself into. By lying.

He wished he could just leave, but he waited her out. In the end, he needn’t have worried about getting caught peeking. She slept for more than an hour, until the colorful sunset sky was framed by her floor-to-ceiling living-room windows, the view tempting enough to lure him onto the outdoor balcony.

But just then her eyes snapped open. She shoved herself upright, her dark brown gaze homing in on him, looking confused.

“Hungry?” he asked, not waiting for her answer, knowing she was embarrassed. He brought the plate to the coffee table. “I already ate,” he said, setting down an iced tea, as well.

He watched her stare at the food, saw the flush in her cheeks fade as her discomfort eased, then he told her the decision he’d made while she slept.

“I can’t take the job. Good luck to you.”

He went straight to the door.

Chapter Two

“Wait! Please wait.” Feeling gut punched, Becca jumped up to stop him. They hadn’t even had a conversation about the particulars of the job itself, and he was turning it down?

“We haven’t talked yet,” she said.

“I know enough. I can see why you think you need a personal assistant or something,” he said. “But that’s not why you went to At Your Service, is it? I can’t play the part of a doting husband when I’m not. I’m sorry.”

The speed of his departure caught her off guard, as well as his judgmental tone. “You’re here. You could at least hear me out.”

After a moment, he said, “You’re right. I should hear you out. It won’t make me change my mind, Becca, but the floor’s yours.”

He sat at one end of the sofa like a sculpture of the world’s most perfect male, his arm stretched along the back, ankle crossed over one knee.

She should be figuring out what to say to him to change his mind, but instead she wondered how bad her hair looked. She’d had it cut to chin length recently, a style she thought would save her time, but which had ended up taking extra minutes to fix every morning.

Needing to pull herself together before saying anything more, she said, “Would you mind waiting a few minutes?”

A few beats passed, then he nodded, although he looked as if he wanted to sigh.

Becca shut the master-bedroom door behind her and leaned against it. He wasn’t going to take the job. He was perfect, but he wouldn’t be hers, not even for two days.

Unless she could change his mind. She’d been called tenacious but also sincere all her life. It was usually a winning combination. What did she have to lose?

She shoved her hair back from her face and headed into her bathroom then returned to the living room a few of minutes later with her armor on—her hair brushed and fresh lipstick applied. She’d seen in the mirror how tired she looked, so she tried to smile now, knowing that would help.

She also carried a picture frame. She sat next to Gavin and turned the photo around.

“These are my brothers,” she said. “Eric, Sam, Trent and Jeff. Eric is oldest. He’s thirty-nine, and I’m the youngest. I’m thirty.” She set the frame on the coffee table facing Gavin. “They’re coming to Sacramento on the Saturday after next to celebrate my wedding.”

“Which you didn’t have.”

“That’s true. But they need to think I did.”

“Why?”

“Because Eric—” she pointed to him in the photograph “—won’t get married until I do. Actually I think it’s possible that all four of them are waiting for me to marry first.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I know it seems so, and certainly Eric has never confirmed it as fact, but he loves kids and he wants to be married. I know he does.”

“Why would his getting married have anything at all to do with you?”

“Because he won’t give up feeling responsible for me until he’s satisfied I’m being taken care of by a husband.”

“You do realize how archaic that sounds, don’t you?”

“Of course. But our circumstances are unusual. You see, our parents died when I was thirteen. My brothers took over raising me. It was a group project, but Eric was the patriarch and he always had the last word.” She traced a finger across the glass. “They love me. I’ve never doubted it for a second.”

“But?”

“But they also smothered me with that love, Eric most of all. He’s been by far the most overprotective. I know there are worse things in life to complain about. I’m lucky in so many ways.”

“Do they live close?” he asked.

“No. In fact they’re scattered around the country, but they remain in solidarity when it comes to me. It kills them that I’m living alone in a big city.

“And now that I’ve turned thirty, their desire to get me married and settled has intensified. Are your parents like that?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter to them. Although maybe my father would like the Callahan name to continue.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Thirty-four. And nowhere close to marriage. What do you think is behind Eric’s need to see you settled down?”

“This is purely speculation on my part, but it’s almost as if his job won’t be done until then.”

“So you’re feeling pressure to marry because you want him to do the same?”

“Not just him, but all my brothers, I think. I owe them a lot, Gavin, a whole lot, but Eric most of all. He was twenty-two when our parents died. He’d just graduated from college and would’ve been off to new places and adventures. Instead he stayed and took care of us. We all went to college. He made sure of that. We’re all successful.”

“Professionally,” Gavin said.

“Meaning?”

“Well, none of you have married, yet you’re all in your thirties. Seems that out of five siblings, at least one would’ve taken the plunge.”

Her back stiffened. “Now you see my dilemma. Besides, that’s an odd statement from someone who’s thirty-four and happily declares he’s nowhere close to marriage himself. Don’t you consider yourself successful?”

“I’m not the one looking for a pretend spouse.”

He had a point. She stacked some cheese and crackers, giving herself something to do with her hands. “Well, I can’t speak for my brothers, but I feel not only professionally successful, but personally, as well. I’ve been happy with my life. For the most part.”

She saw him look around her loft, as if reminding her how scattered her life had become. Now, she never invited anyone to visit other than Suki, yet at one time years ago, her home had been party-central.

“So, what are you looking for in a one-weekend husband?” he asked.

“Attentiveness,” she answered hopefully.

He laughed.

She smiled. “Seriously, I do have a plan. My brothers are flying in on Saturday morning and leaving Sunday afternoon. Your job would be to convince them we’re really married, that you’re the real deal, you know? A man who loves me. So, what I need is an actor, although this play is live-action. You need to be able to improvise in a believable way.”

He eyed her thoughtfully. “Why did you choose that particular course of action?”

Becca tucked her feet under her, facing him. She had to be honest or the situation wouldn’t work. He needed to know everything—even though she was going to look foolish. She could only hope he would take pity on her.

“My brothers have an annoying habit of setting me up with blind dates, a situation that has intensified in the past couple of years. How they come up with these guys is a mystery, especially long distance, but one brother or another sets me up every few months. Every one of these guys is an extreme Alpha male, by the way, just like my brothers. I finally made up a boyfriend. A doctor,” she added, trying not to seem too embarrassed by her actions. “I knew he would need to be very successful in order to be found satisfactory. Then they started planning visits here to meet my boyfriend, so I pretended he was part of the Doctors Without Borders organization and sent him out of the country.”

Gavin looked surprisingly amused. “It’s hard to imagine being able to pull that off for any length of time.”

“I know. I didn’t think it through. I can be … impulsive.” Which didn’t describe her logical and methodical business persona, but did describe her in many other ways. “Eric didn’t buy it. After a couple of trips to see me and meet the mysterious boyfriend who was always out of the country, he called my bluff.”

She took a sip of her now watered-down iced tea. “My friend Suki and I were out to dinner when Eric called to set me up with yet another blind date. It was the same old argument, with me saying I already had a boyfriend and Eric saying he didn’t believe it. Suki said, ‘Tell him you eloped.’ So I did.”

Gavin still looked amused, so she relaxed a little.

“Which Eric also didn’t buy,” Gavin said. “Because as close as you are, he knows you wouldn’t leave him out of your wedding plans.”

She nodded. The hurt in Eric’s voice still haunted her. “I told him that my husband had been about to leave on a particularly dangerous assignment, and we wanted to marry before he went. I can’t tell you how much I regretted the lie—still regret it. But in the end it served two important purposes. It got my brothers off my back about getting married, which I will do in my own way and time, and it opened the door for them to stop worrying about me and move on with their own lives.”

“I still find it hard to believe they haven’t married because you haven’t.”

“I know it seems like I’m reaching, but you don’t understand what happens when you lose both your parents at the same time, especially at such young ages. It created an unusual bond between us as siblings.”

“And yet you don’t feel you can be honest with them.”

“I get that you probably think I’m crazy—or worse. Certainly I could’ve set things right since I made up the marriage. I could even pretend to get a quick annulment, but that would give my brothers free rein to start in again, and wouldn’t accomplish what I want most of all—for them to put themselves first for once, especially Eric.”

Gavin picked up her iced-tea glass and headed into the kitchen. What was he thinking? Had she been too honest? Did she seem pathetic?

He returned in a minute with a fresh glass, ice cubes clinking, and handed it to her. He must have needed a moment to take it all in.

This made her hopeful. Except he didn’t sit down again.

“I admit I don’t understand your connection with your brothers,” he said. “My family life didn’t and doesn’t resemble yours in the least. I don’t identify with your bond, not to the point of creating such a lie. And even though it sounds somewhat intriguing, you need to find someone else. I’m sorry. Good luck, Becca. Goodbye.”

He walked out, pulling the door shut quietly behind him. The moment it closed she felt as if she were drowning in a silent pool of disappointment and, well, shame. His saying it all out loud did make her seem pathetic. Maybe no one else could ever understand the obligation she felt to her brothers, especially Eric.

Becca let out the breath she’d been holding. She picked at the food but had lost her appetite, so she cleaned up the dishes then carried her suitcase into her bedroom to unpack. Her eyes stung. She sat on the bed and tried not to cry.

What a mess she’d created for herself.

Gavin took the elevator to the basement-level parking and headed for the visitor parking. He couldn’t believe he’d even entertained the idea of taking the job—even for Shana. What had he been thinking?

And yet … he was intrigued. Maybe because he’d watched her sleep, as vulnerable as a child. She’d lost the mother in the photo with the matching dress. She’d been left with domineering brothers who obviously adored her, even if they didn’t acknowledge her as an independent adult.

But was that any reason to lie? Couldn’t she just stand up for herself?

He reached his car but didn’t unlock it. She’d also wanted a doctor. He laughed a little, the sound echoing in the concrete structure. He hadn’t bothered to tell her he was a doctor—one on a break for who knew how long. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to continue in medicine, not after what he’d been through.

If he did the job for her he would have to take down his Facebook page….

Dammit. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

He knew the answer. Because spending time with a scattered woman could be a good distraction right now while he made some life decisions.

Or, more likely, drive him crazy.

He climbed into his car, slid the key in the ignition. Really, why should he do it?

First, he recognized a workaholic when he saw one. He’d driven himself too hard, too, for reasons he’d never stopped to analyze beyond the usual escape-from-a-small-claustrophobic-town need that many young people feel after high school when the future is a blank canvas.

He certainly hadn’t experienced the deep family ties she had, but he understood how important they were to her.

Second, he liked her. More than that—he was attracted to her, which could be problematic in the long run.

Third, as Shana had reminded him, he had no life at the moment.

Fourth, and maybe most important, he needed to feel needed.

After a minute, he started the engine, his mind made up. All the reasons he’d listed were self-serving. They were about him, not her.

And it really should be about her.

Just as abruptly, he turned off the ignition. He’d left with barely a goodbye, bordering on rudeness, which wasn’t like him. For her sake he would go back and talk to her, explain why he was the wrong person, tell her the kind of person she should be looking for instead. One who wouldn’t be in it for his own selfish purposes.

He owed her that much, and Shana and Julia, too. He didn’t want to give the agency a bad rap.

Right. That was why he was going back upstairs to see Becca Sheridan.

Becca was back at square one, and she really didn’t want to go through the process of explaining herself again, especially since telling him the story had let her see how truly pitiable it was.

Aside from that, Gavin had intrigued her, especially his integrity. She was offering a lot of money for a day and a half’s work, and he hadn’t jumped at it, which said something. He wouldn’t take the job just for the money.

She had to take his lead and tell the truth. It was too late to call Eric tonight, but first thing in the morning—

Her doorbell rang.

Suki. She’d forgotten to call her. And now she’d find Becca looking red and puffy after a good, long crying jag. Becca didn’t want to talk, not even to her best friend in the world, but she figured Suki might call the police if she didn’t get an answer, worried that the “candidate” had harmed her in some way.

She opened the door.

It wasn’t Suki, but Gavin, looking determined. Then his eyes narrowed.

“Have you been crying?”

Hope got mixed up with embarrassment once again. Why did he keep catching her when she looked her worst? “Do I really need to answer that?”

After several seconds of just staring at her, his expression changed. He looked … resigned.

“Tell me if I’ve summed this up correctly,” he said. “You lied about having a boyfriend for your sake—to get them off your backs about it. But you lied about having a husband for their sakes—to let them to move on with their lives and futures.”

He put her reasoning into words much better than she had. “Yes, exactly.”

“Then, okay, I’ll do it. I understand wanting your siblings, especially Eric, to be happy. I get that they’ve given up a lot for you,” he said. “But I’ve got a few requirements of my own.”

Relief and joy battled inside her. “Come in.”

He did, but he didn’t sit. “Obviously I can’t just show up here next Saturday and pretend to be your husband and expect your brothers to buy it. That means we have nine days to become believable. And nine days to get all this—” he gestured around her messy space “—in order. I’m volunteering to do that for you. If you want your brothers to think your life is in good hands, this place needs to reflect that—because it also reflects on me.”

She didn’t know how she felt about his take-charge attitude, but she knew he was right. “I guess I do need a keeper.”

“And I’ve never been anyone’s keeper, but I do need a challenge right now.”

“So you would be free all week to help me? I’m not taking you away from another job?”

“I’m between jobs at the moment.”

Which could mean anything, she thought. He could have been fired, laid off, or quit. Maybe temp jobs were his mainstay. “What kind of work did you do?”

“My last job was at a hospital.”

“Really?” This was even better than she’d hoped. “So you’ll be able to toss in a few medical words and sound like you know what you’re doing? You could sound like a doctor?”

“As long as no one needs brain surgery.”

“When can you start?” she asked, grinning.

“What time do you leave for work?”

“Seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be here at seven. I’ll bring breakfast.”

“I don’t eat—”

“I’ll bring breakfast. I saw the inside of your refrigerator. You have very little on hand.” He headed to the door, grabbed the knob. “I have to be home for the weekend, but I’ll do an assessment of what needs to be done tomorrow then come back on Monday. I’ll call Julia and let her know.”

“Wait!” She walked to him, the door open. “How can I reach you?”

“I’ll give you my cell-phone number tomorrow. Sleep well.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Everything will work out, Becca.”

With those softly spoken, comforting words, he left.

Becca closed her mouth after a moment, her eyes watering and throat burning. Then she shut the door and went to bed, where she fell asleep within a minute.

Life was good.

Chapter Three

“I’m trying to remember the last time I ate oatmeal,” Becca said, scraping her bowl clean. “And I’m sure it didn’t taste this good.”

Gavin had guessed what she might like to eat and decided on oatmeal loaded with raisins, walnuts and brown sugar for both of them, something hearty he’d picked up at the restaurant of the hotel where he’d stayed overnight.

She looked fresh, her eyes bright, her spirits high. Maybe a little too high. There was nothing leisurely about her this morning. She moved quickly, spoke with rapid-fire speed and continually bounced a foot while talking. He hadn’t noticed anything like it last night, but she was definitely wound up now.

“Are you all right?” He picked up her empty bowl and set it in the kitchen sink with his.

She hopped off the barstool. “I feel good. Hopeful.”

Hopeful. An interesting word. “What’s your plan for your second bedroom? Office? Guest room?”

“Both. Suki has crashed on my couch a few times, but it would be good to have a real guest room.”

“How much work do you do at home?”

She scooped up her briefcase, which she’d tossed onto the couch, and checked the contents. “Lots. But I usually sit here on the sofa with my laptop. I don’t have to spread out much.”

He found himself staring at her rear, which was round and taut, her jeans fitting her like a second skin. She was slender but toned, her breasts small and firm. “Do you need all the trade journals that are stacked up around the place?”

“Probably not.” She straightened and faced him in time to find him staring.

He felt like a teenager, caught ogling. It’d been way too long since he’d been on a date, having no interest while the lawsuit was being investigated then tried. He supposed it was a sign of emotional progress that he was thinking about sex again, but it was disconcerting in this situation. For all intents and purposes, she was his boss.

Not to mention she lived in Sacramento and he in San Francisco, too far apart to see each other often. Although in a week’s time they would need to look as if they were married, with all the intimacy that implied. Interesting contradictions, he thought.

“This is my cell-phone number,” he said, passing her a scrap of paper.

“And here’s a key for you,” she said. “So, I won’t see you again until Monday?”

“Right.” He could have changed his plans at home but decided he’d rather work without her around—which meant putting it off until Monday. It had been a year since he’d spent time with a woman he liked and was attracted to. “You must have a casual workplace,” he said, “to wear jeans as a vice president.”

She flashed a grin. “Actually I’m dressed up.” She pulled an orange cardigan over her crisp white shirt. “We don’t see many visitors, although we’re doing a lot more video conferencing these days, so some of the guys may need to start wearing dress shirts instead of T-shirts.”

Gavin got caught by her smile, which spread from her mouth to her eyes, their dark brown depths sparkling. How she could look both at ease and wound up was beyond him, but it described her.

“If there’s something you need me to do over the weekend, let me know,” she said as she headed to the door.

“Will you go grocery shopping?”

She frowned. “What for?”

He laughed. “Eat out a lot, do you?”

“I don’t have time to cook. Or the interest.”

“Then I’ll take care of it before I get here on Mon day. I think if you want your brothers to believe you’re married, your kitchen should be a little better stocked.”

“They know I don’t cook.”

“People have a different expectation for a married person, I think. I won’t overdo it.”

She smiled, obviously happy. “We already feel so domestic,” she said. “I feel like I should kiss you goodbye and call you honey.”

Feel free. The words stayed trapped in his head.

“But I’ll just say thank-you. You don’t know how relieved I am, Gavin.”

“Have a good day. Honey.”

She laughed then waved goodbye.

The apartment seemed unbearably quiet after the door shut. Becca Sheridan had presence. He wondered if she knew what a potent force she was.

Gavin planned to spend the next few hours looking through boxes, sorting stacks and making lists. He was excited to get started, anxious to create order out of her chaos. He had work to do, physical and mental.

And he felt better than he had in a long time, lighter, unburdened. Focused.

Sane.

He hoped it was worth living the lie.

Suki shadowed Becca from the front door all the way to her office. She’d been lying in wait, had texted Becca four times this morning demanding to know how the interview had gone. Becca couldn’t explain it adequately via text message, so she waited, although knowing Suki would pounce.

“Tall, blond and handsome, like he’d just come out of the ocean with a surfboard under his arm,” Becca said as soon as Suki shut the door. “Intelligent. Easygoing. Good manners. Knows how to take care of a person. Jackpot.”

She started to laugh after that, feeling like a teenager, light and carefree.

“Wow,” Suki said, sitting back in her chair. “And he works as a temp? Something’s gotta be wrong with him.”

“I kept looking for flaws. I didn’t see any.”

“Did you make him strip down? Maybe it’s where you can’t see it.”

Becca grinned. “Why didn’t I think of that? I could’ve brought out my casting couch. I’m telling you, he’s one gorgeous man. And he intends to take care of my needs.”

“Do you have to pay more for that?” Suki waggled her eyebrows.

Warmth suffused Becca. She hadn’t intended to give things a sexual spin, but those visions simmered below the surface without conscious thought. She was more than a little attracted to Gavin. If she’d put together the man of her dreams, feature by feature, Gavin Callahan would’ve been the end result.

“I meant,” Becca said to Suki, “that he accepted the job, and I’m sure he’ll do a great job of being a pretend husband.”

“Can I have him when you’re done?”

Becca had no glib comment in return. She didn’t want to share him. He’s mine, she wanted to say. Then her phone rang, saving her as Suki slipped out of the room and the workday began.

Except it wasn’t work related.

“Hey, Bec,” her brother Eric said, his voice deep and sure.

Becca always felt safe when she heard him. He’d been her lifeline after she left home, even as she’d craved the independence. “How’s life in the Big Apple?” she asked.

“Dog-eat-dog. How’s everything with you?”

“Busy and good. I’m looking forward to seeing you. All four of you. Are your plans all set?”

“Our flights will arrive within an hour of each other. Sam and I will hook up in Chicago then fly to Sacramento together. Trent and Jeff will do the same in Dallas. So, only two flights to contend with in the end. We should get to your place around noon.”

“I’ll have lunch ready.” Or catered or something, she thought.

“Are you cooking these days? Have you become the little wife?”

She didn’t know why that stung, but it did. “Chauvinist. I think I can manage sandwiches.”

“Sounds good. We’ll take the newlyweds out to dinner Saturday night, though.”

“Thank you. I’ll let Gavin make reservations for us all.”

“Oh, he has a name finally.”

She’d referred to her mystery boyfriend as Doc whenever she spoke of him to her brothers. It had become a joke, although she knew they were annoyed at not knowing the real name of her fantasy man.

“And his last name?” Eric prompted.

“I’m not telling. You can meet him and form your own opinion, not whatever information you might dig up on him in the meantime.”

“Spoilsport. And you’ll share pictures from your wedding with us, too, since we haven’t received any either by mail or email.”

A statement, not a question, she realized. “Of course.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Eric spoke again. “Are you happy, Bec?”

“I am.” Except for lying and deceiving and being attracted to a man without any potential for a future relationship. “Don’t be too hard on Gavin, okay? Eloping was my idea.”

“He went along with it.”

She heard condemnation in his voice. “He’d do anything for me, Eric. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

He sighed. “Of course it is.”

“Then just be happy for me.”

She hung up the phone a minute later feeling lower than low. What a sincerely stupid thing she’d done, even if for what she thought were the right reasons.

After a minute of remorse, she sat up tall in her chair. She would get through the weekend and the lie somehow, because it mattered. She’d made her decision for good reasons, solid reasons. She couldn’t backpedal.

Except … now she had another tricky situation to deal with. She drummed her fingers on her desk, debating, and then finally called Gavin’s cell phone.

“We have a new complication,” she said.

“The first of many, I imagine,” he said drily. “What’s up?”

“I just talked to Eric. He’s looking forward to seeing pictures of our wedding.”

There was a long moment of pause. “Okay. You find the right dress to wear. I’ll take care of everything else. I’ll pick you up around noon on Sunday.”

For a woman used to making decisions herself, she gave in easily to his taking charge. “Thank you, Gavin. Thank you so much.”

“It’s something any good husband would do.”

She heard the smile in his voice. “What about your weekend plans?”

“I can be done by then. See you on Sunday.”

“Gavin,” she said in a hurry before he hung up—and before she lost her nerve.

“What?”

“If your plans include getting a haircut, please don’t.” She wanted to run her fingers through it, had been hoping for a chance while they were “married.”

She could almost hear him frown.

“I should look my best for our wedding photos,” he said. “They last a lifetime, you know.”

“I think it adds to your philanthropic, selfless-doctor look,” she said.

He laughed, soft and low, a sound that registered in her as if their bodies had been touching. She liked him too much. Way too much.

“I guess I can make that sacrifice for my wife.”

“Thank you,” she said, the phrase becoming all too common. “If there’s something you think of that I can do, you’ll let me know, right?”

“Look like a bride. I’ll handle the rest. And relax, okay? It’ll be fine.”

“Giving up control is hard for me,” she admitted.

“No kidding. Let go of the wheel, Becca. Control’s an illusion, anyway, so you might as well just have fun.”

Was that his philosophy? Was that why he was happy working temp jobs, not having a particular career? She wished she could be more like him. Well, a little more like him. She couldn’t give up the career she’d worked so hard for.

“You win,” she said. “Please keep track of your expenses.”

“See you later.” Then he hung up, without waiting for her to even say goodbye.

Becca looked around her office. If she had a window, she would’ve taken advantage of it to stare outside while she considered their conversation.

Look like a bride, he’d said. She took a mental tour of her closet, but nothing appropriate came to mind. She needed to shop. Normally she would ask Suki to go with her, but she didn’t want to involve anyone else, if possible. As it was, Eric would wonder why Suki hadn’t attended her best friend’s wedding.

A wedding without a honeymoon.

Somehow that didn’t seem quite fair.

She laughed, let herself relax as Gavin had pretty much ordered her to and then got down to work. After all, someone had to bring home the bacon in this marriage.

Chapter Four

“How did you find this place?” Becca asked as they pulled into a Lake Tahoe–area parking lot Sunday afternoon after a two-hour drive.

“On the internet,” Gavin answered, grateful that the outside of the Hearts Entwined Wedding Chapel matched the picture on the web. It was the newest chapel in the region, so he hoped it would be the nicest—and that the owners were discreet.

“So, they’re letting us just take pictures?” she asked. “How did you manage that?”

“Money always talks. For a couple hundred dollars I bought the ceremony, minus the legalities. Not expensive at all.” He turned off the ignition and faced her. She looked stunning in her off-white silk suit with the above-the-knee skirt and super-high heels, a fascinating contrast of sweet and sexy.

“I’ll reimburse you, of course.” She reached over and combed his hair with her fingers, startling him with the action. “There.” She let her hand drift away, but her gaze stayed locked with his. “You look very groomlike in your dark suit and white shirt. Very handsome.”

The moment turned too serious, or maybe too tense. It was hard to tell. To change the mood he reached into the backseat and pulled out a box. “Your bouquet.”

“For me?” Her eyes lit up, and her cheeks turned pink.

He’d genuinely surprised her, which made him happy he’d taken the time to do things right.

“Oh! It’s gorgeous!” She pressed her face into the pink-and-white rose bouquet and inhaled the fragrance. “You thought of everything. Thank you!”

Her happiness pleased him like nothing else had in so long. Because she was tempting enough to kiss, he had her pin a white-rose boutonniere on his lapel, her look of concentration making him smile.

When she was done she patted his chest then pulled back in a hurry, as if she’d overstepped.

“We need to look married,” he said, capturing her hands in his. “That means touching.”

“In front of other people, maybe. Not when it’s just us.”

“We need to get used to it so it’s normal for us, don’t you think?” He acknowledged it was just an excuse to touch her, but it still made sense for their purposes.

“You’re very sensible, Gavin.”

No, I’m actually all stirred up. He wondered what she would say to that. “Ready?” he asked.

She looked at the building and took a deep breath. “Ready.”

He held her hand as they went inside, the interior dark, with rich wood walls and silk-upholstered guest chairs. A floor-to-ceiling oil painting of Lake Tahoe and the Sierra Nevadas held center stage, a beautiful backdrop for photographs to be taken during and after the ceremony.

“Mr. Callahan?” A slight man with white hair approached. “I’m Reverend Sorbo.”

“Thank you for fitting us in, Reverend. This is Ms. Sheridan.”

The man nodded. “Everything is ready for you. Please follow me.”

For the first photos, Gavin and Becca were posed as if reciting their vows, with the reverend in the background between them, then he said, “Rings?”

Becca shot a look at Gavin. “Oh, we don’t—”

“Of course we do,” he said, interrupting her. He dipped into his pocket and pulled out matching bands, each carved with swirls and dotted with diamond chips.

Her hand shook as he put her ring on her finger, the photographer coming up closer to capture the moment. Gavin found he was a little shaky, as well, and chalked it up to perpetuating the lie. Sometimes he was able to set all that aside, but putting a wedding ring on her brought it to the forefront. Marriage was supposed to be revered and respected.

“Next would be a kiss,” Reverend Sorbo said.

Gavin took her hands. Her eyes were so dark they seemed black. He leaned toward her, touched his lips to hers and felt them quiver. He heard the photographer take a couple of shots, then Gavin pulled back.

“You can do better than that, young man,” the reverend said with a chuckle. “A picture’s worth a thousand words, you know.”

“Are you game?” he whispered to Becca.

She nodded. He moved in closer. Then he bent her over his arm and held that pose for the camera. Startled, she looked surprised, then she laughed. Only then did he kiss her, kissing the smile off her face, savoring the taste of her, especially when she started kissing him back making that soft little moan….

Becca forgot everything but him, the way his lips felt, the comfort of his arms holding her securely, even the scent of the light cologne he wore.

Best … kisser … ever. The thought registered in her brain gradually, just as her need for him did, which didn’t slam into her but coiled slowly, attaching her to him with heat and desire—until he straightened, taking her with him. He kept his hands curved around her arms, waiting for her to stop wobbling before he released her.

“Much better,” the reverend said.

Becca and Gavin stood in front of the grand painting for an official wedding portrait, then they were handed a CD of their photos and sent on their way. In the car they simply sat for a few moments.

“I’ll get prints made,” Gavin said after a while.

“Okay.” She felt married. She shouldn’t, since they’d only hit the highlights of a normal ceremony, and they didn’t have a license. The usual steps of courtship, marriage proposal and real ceremony hadn’t happened, either….

Yet she felt married.

She sneaked a look at the ring on her finger.

“They’re on loan,” he said, starting the engine of the low, sleek sports car he seemed too comfortable with for it to be a rental. Another surprise.

“The rings are gorgeous.” Since he’d caught her looking, she held out her hand to better admire the band. “You really did think of everything.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” he asked, smiling and angling toward her.

“I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I found a wedding site online and followed their checklist.”

She found that incredibly sweet. Tempted to lay her hand along his hair and kiss him, she just smiled instead.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“My appetite has returned.” On cue, her stomach growled. She pressed a hand to it and laughed.

“We’re a little overdressed for the casinos.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed south.

“Does anyone care about such things? We might stand out a bit, but I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite to eat then feeding a slot machine. I feel lucky today.”

They left their wedding flowers in the car, but even the restaurant hostess seemed to recognize them as newlyweds and gave them a quiet corner booth. She took their drink orders before giving them a wink and walking away.

Becca wondered if she should stake Gavin some cash. Julia would’ve told him what his wages would be for the following weekend, but he’d also spent funds Becca needed, and wanted, to reimburse.

This was different, however. This would be a cash transaction.

Their server placed glasses of iced tea in front of them, and then took their orders for minestrone soup and BLT sandwiches.

“Do you gamble?” Becca asked Gavin when they were alone again.

“Rarely. I’ll be happy to stay with you while you play. Unless you’d rather be alone?”

“That would look strange, wouldn’t it, since we’re supposed to be newlyweds?” She sipped her tea. “So, I think I’ll set a limit of fifty dollars to lose.”

“Do you always lose?”

“I’ve only played a few times, mostly during bachelorette parties. I can’t remember ever going home with more than I had. How about you?”

“I tend to win, mostly,” he said with a shrug. “But I play blackjack not slots.”

Becca ran a finger along the drops of condensation on her glass. They’d talked about their childhoods on the drive up earlier, but she realized she’d talked a lot more than he had. Had that been a planned maneuver on his part?

“You said that you had sisters, Gavin. Older or younger?”

He pulled out his cell phone and brought up a photo with two women and a baby. “Dixie’s three years younger than me and Shana is five years younger. Dix recently got married. She and her husband are on their honeymoon.”

“And Shana?”

“She gets a lot of jobs through At Your Service. That’s her daughter, Emma, who’s about nine months old now.”

“Were you close as children?”

He tucked his phone back in his pocket. “Dix and I were when we were really young. Shana always marched to her own drummer. But all three of us had a kind of bond because our parents didn’t really parent. As siblings, we looked out for each other, and yet I can’t say we were close. Not like you and your brothers.”

“Your parents just let you raise yourselves?” She couldn’t imagine that. Hers had always been there for her—then her brothers had followed suit.

“Sort of. On one hand, they were extremely strict. They set down rules and expected us to follow them, but then they left us alone. If we got caught doing something we shouldn’t be doing, the punishment was swift and harsh. I learned not to get caught.”

Their lunch was served, the aroma enticing.

“I always got caught,” she said with a sigh. “Always. If my parents didn’t catch me, one of my brothers did. The freedom when I went away to college was heady. I stayed up too late, waited until the day before a paper was due before I wrote it and partied a lot. But by my sophomore year I’d seen the value in moderation. To a degree, anyway.” She grinned. She had loved the college environment. “Did you go to college?”

“Yes. But I was a nose-to-the-grindstone student. Plus I was always working. Between jobs, scholarships and grants, I graduated debt free.”

“That’s a big accomplishment. What’s your degree in?”

“Biology, with a minor in biochemistry.”

“That’s a tough curriculum.”

He shrugged. Gavin steered the conversation to how good the food was, but Becca recognized a diversion when she heard one.

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