Million Dollar Christmas Bride - Holly Rayner Page 0,20

of helping him pick between a firetruck, dinosaur, or his favorite superhero.

There were so many things she longed to do with children of her own: early morning snuggle sessions in bed, stirring blueberries into pancake batter on Saturday mornings, walking hand in hand to school…

She turned the corner onto her own block. Many of the houses had family-sized, shiny new cars in the driveway, and kid-friendly holiday decorations in the yard.

What would Christmas be like if I had children? she wondered. She could imagine the joy of seeing her son or daughter light up at the sight of a tree in the living room, surrounded by wrapped presents just waiting to be torn open.

As it was, she hadn’t gotten a real tree this year. She couldn’t afford it. Instead, she’d pulled out the tabletop aluminum one she’d had as a kid. The shiny, crinkly branches now sported a variety of handmade ornaments, some passed down for generations. All the other ornaments were on her mom’s small tree at the nursing home.

One day… she thought dreamily. One day, maybe my husband and I will go out on the day after Thanksgiving and choose a tree. Our children will help us pick the perfect one. He’ll put it up so it’s perfectly straight, while I make hot chocolate for the whole gang.

She smiled at the fantasy. It took her a moment to realize that as the dream-like images flashed through her mind, she’d pictured Jackson playing the role of her husband.

She took a deep breath of the cool night air to clear her head, then turned up her driveway.

“It’s late, Peaches,” she murmured. “I’m tired and not thinking straight. I keep imagining Jackson as my husband.”

Faking a marriage is a far stretch from the real thing, she thought. Her mind turned nervously to the Saturday night date that lay ahead.

What have I gotten into? she thought. I’m no actress. How in the world am I supposed to play the role of Jackson’s wife-to-be? I just met the guy!

Confusion threatened to overwhelm her. “I’d better get to bed,” she said under her breath.

Peaches wagged her tail, trotted up the front steps, and then pressed her nose into the front door. It was clear that she was ready for a snooze session as well.

Chapter 7

Bianca

Butterflies stirred in Bianca’s stomach as she surveyed the Heritage Manor dining area. Even though Jackson was at her side, she felt alone and ill-equipped to face the social situation before her. Not only were the guests who mingled in little knots around the rooms far better dressed than she was, but they also oozed upper-class status. Bianca felt intimidated, like a gazelle standing on the edge of a field of lions.

“Ready to meet my mom?” Jackson asked.

Bianca cringed. She longed to say no, turn around, and book it out of the stuffy room. But a total of fifteen thousand dollars was on the line, and besides that, she’d given Jackson her word that she’d help him.

The thought of the dishonest statements she’d have to make over the course of the evening made her feel nauseated, as if she was on a rocking boat, turning green and queasy. In fact, the polished oak floor beneath her was solid, not rocking at all—unless she counted the subtle sway from the high four-inch stilettos she’d borrowed from Sandy for the occasion. They were a half size too big, and no matter how still she tried to stand, she felt as though she couldn’t quite steady herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said quietly. She realized that it might be the last honest statement she’d make all evening.

Jackson chuckled. “You look like you’re on a pirate ship, about to walk the plank.”

Bianca smiled nervously and looked up at him. “Oh, you know what that looks like?”

“I can imagine,” he said with another laugh. “Come on, this isn’t going to be so bad.” He leaned in and brushed the softest of kisses on her cheek. His lips barely touched her skin—the sensation was like the faintest tickle of a feather—but it sent pleasure rippling through Bianca, and she felt her cheeks flush immediately.

Maybe this really won’t be so bad, she thought. How could she complain about being kissed by a gorgeous man? Yes, it was all a show, but still. The feel of his lips against her flesh was real.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said.

“Always,” he told her confidently, as he offered up his elbow.

“I doubt you’re always right,” Bianca protested as she looped