Million Dollar Christmas Bride - Holly Rayner Page 0,21

her arm through his. She found that it was helpful to lean into him for balance as they crossed the room.

“Oh really?” Jackson teased. “How can you be so sure?”

“No one is right one-hundred percent of the time.”

“Except for me,” Jackson joked. He lifted a hand to greet two couples who stood chatting together by one of the decadently set tables. “Bob! Stacy! Hello,” he said warmly. Then he lowered his voice and whispered to Bianca, “Just follow my lead. This will be our warm-up for the main performance. We’ll have a chance to iron out the details of our story.”

Performance? Details of our story? Bianca didn’t like the sound of either of those things. The thought of keeping track of a pile of confusing details made her feel even more queasy.

Jackson approached the couples, exchanged greetings that included enthusiastic, backslapping hugs with the men, and then introduced Bianca as his fiancée.

Bianca was glad that he’d brought along a fake engagement ring, which she wore on her finger. It was the only piece of jewelry she had on besides stud earrings, and she hoped that it dressed up her plain black cocktail dress, which she’d picked up at a discount store just the day before.

When Jackson swiped two glasses of wine from a passing cocktail waitress, she was eager to take the first few sips.

Her jangling nerves finally began to quiet down after Jackson had answered a few questions about their relationship, and the conversation turned to the economy.

While the men and one of the wives talked about stocks, the second woman turned to Bianca.

“Congratulations,” she said warmly. “All of the ladies who know Jackson have been wondering when he’d finally settle down. He’s a great guy… always there for his friends and so good with that dog of his.” She seemed to be genuine, and Bianca felt herself smile proudly, almost as if she really was about to marry the tall, handsome man beside her.

“He’s pretty special, isn’t he?” she said. In that instant, she knew how she would survive the evening: she would fully immerse herself into the belief that Jackson was hers. She’d become Jackson’s fiancée, just for a few hours.

For one night only, she’d allow herself to live inside that world of make-believe.

When Jackson pulled away from the group, she followed his lead effortlessly. It felt natural to tuck her arm into his. She smiled as he led her toward a table that was occupied by a couple in their fifties who picked idly at plates of appetizers before them, two young women who were busy taking selfies, and an elderly woman whose sharp gaze was focused squarely on Bianca and Jackson.

That’s her, Bianca realized. Jackson’s mother.

Though the white-haired woman was sitting, Bianca could tell she wasn’t tall like Jackson. She looked to be about average height, albeit stooped with age. A thick strand of pearls was draped around her neck, and her emerald-green, lace and silk dress complemented her pale complexion. Bianca sensed she’d been a beauty in her younger years.

The woman didn’t stand as they approached, but instead reached for her glass of amber-colored liquid in a tumbler glass and took a sip.

“Mom, meet my fiancée, Bianca,” Jackson said. “Bianca, this is my mom, Mary.” He pulled out a chair for Bianca.

Before sitting, Bianca reached out to the woman and offered a hand. Mary’s fingers were as cold as ice when they gripped Bianca’s.

“Nice to meet you,” Mary said.

Jackson grinned as he settled into his own seat. “Quite the turnout, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed,” Mary’s eyes traveled over Bianca while she spoke. “And at a thousand dollars a plate, the Historical Society is going to make a pretty penny. I’d say the evening is a success.” She set down her glass. “And not only because of the funds raised, but also because I’m finally getting a chance to meet the woman my son is going to settle down with.”

Bianca fidgeted slightly under Mary’s watchful gaze, straightening the straps of her dress and then smoothing her hair down. She reached for her wine glass in an attempt to busy her hands, and ended up taking a gulp instead of a sip.

Jackson clearly sensed her nervousness, because he interjected smoothly. “Yes, we’re happy to be here. Thank you for the invitation, Mom.”

“Historical societies do good work,” Mary said matter-of-factly. “Without them, the past can slip through our fingers. Most people are so busy thinking about the future that they simply overlook years gone by. People and places