Microsoft Word - catherine mann - landis brothers 4 - rich man's fake fiancee.docx by Catherine Mann Read Free Book Online Page B

never considered that practical Ashley might wear her merchandise. Her merchandise. How could he have been so focused on thoughts of getting Ashley naked that he momentarily forgot about the mess around them?
    Clothing racks lay on their sides, having been tipped by the force of spraying water. Curled wisps of melted fabrics stuck to the floor and hangers. That same material could have melted to her skin.
    Matthew heard a bell chime behind him, followed by Ashley’s chuckle. Her laugh rippled over his taut nerves, just as enticing as any slip. Damn. He was in trouble. “What did you find?”
    Ashley reached inside the antique gilded cash register and pulled out a soggy stack of bills. “A few blasts with the blow-dryer and I’ll be solvent.”
    Only Ashley could stand in the middle of a charred-out room, holding what probably amounted to a couple of hundred bucks and still manage a laugh.
    He stepped deeper into the room. “So supper’s on you tonight.”
    “Sure. I could probably afford to spring for burgers, if you don’t mind splitting the Coke?”
    “How about I give you some money, just to tide you over?”
    Her pride blazed brighter than their two flashlights combined. “I’ll be fine once the insurance check arrives. I don’t mind working off my deductible with sweat equity.”
    “It’s a standing offer.”
    “Thanks, but no.”
    Matthew bit short a rebuttal. He could see she wouldn’t be budged. He would just find other ways around her counterproductive need for independence. “All right then.”
    He followed her back down the hall, her gathered long hair swaying with each step baring a patch of her neck, and just that fast he started forgetting about the charred mess around them.
    Until they reached her open bedroom door.
    What if she’d been asleep in her bed when the fire started and he hadn’t returned? Being inside the dressing room could very well have saved her life.
    His chest tightened, his breathing ragged. He braced a forearm against the fire-split molding. His arms trembled with the tension of bunched muscles as he fought the image of Ashley dead.
    She made a slow spin around to face him again. “Well, you were right, Matthew. There’s not much I can do here for now. I feel better, though. Knowing the worst somehow makes it easier to go forward.”
    “Right.” He only half registered her words, still caught in the hellish scenario of her stuck in this place while it burned.
    Thank God she wasn’t his fiancée, someone like Dana who could wreck his world in a stopped heartbeat.
    “I accept.”
    Ashley’s words snapped him back to the present.
    “Accept the money?” He was surprised, but damn glad. “Of course. How much do you need?” His eyes swept over her, unable to read her body language but sensing the tension coiling through her.
    “Not that. I accept your, uh—” she chewed her lip “—your proposal. If you still think it will help your campaign, I’ll be your fiancée.”
    Five
    H e was engaged. Hell.
    Matthew creaked back in the chair at his bustling campaign headquarters in Hilton Head. Even four hours after Ashley’s official acceptance, he still couldn’t believe she had actually agreed. He’d gotten his way, but still the whole notion had him itching with the same sensation that had urged him to get out of her place as quickly as he could after their night together.
    He stared at the computer screen full of briefing notes in front of him, but it registered as vaguely as the ringing of telephones and hum of the copy machine outside his office.
    Thumbing the edge of a shiny red and blue stack of “Landis for Senate” bumper stickers, Matthew wondered why the thought of even a fake engagement floored him so much. After all, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted from her. It wasn’t real like with Dana.
    He just hadn’t expected Ashley to be so damn reluctant in her agreement. Okay, so yeah maybe his ego smarted a little. He was the one who wanted to keep his