From the corner of his eye, Dean caught sight of the bombshell of the bunch heading their way. He was surprised when she walked straight up to him, bent down and said, “Could I have a word with you?” She straightened back up, looked him in the eye, and added, “at the bar?”
He glanced at her hands, her left one in particular. She had this big honking diamond on a certain finger. Probably married to some old geezer and was out looking for a little afternoon delight. “Sure thing, honey.” He slid his chair back as he stood, puffed out his chest, and looked at the other guys, grinning.
The bombshell leaned against the bar and Dean did the same, deciding to let her take the lead. Better that she thought she was in charge.
“Are you married?” she asked in a friendly enough voice.
“What difference does it make?” he inquired with a smile and a measure of charm.
“Are you married?” she asked again, a little firmer this time.
Okay, so she was the controlling type. But he had news for her—he wasn’t going for none of this weird-ass tying up shit. Dean shook his head. “But you are.” He pointed to her left hand.
“Forget about me.” She waved her hand between them as if nixing that whole idea. “Are you seriously involved with anyone?”
“No.” Dean was answering now more for sport than anything else. She’d gotten his attention, and his curiosity was willing to let her take him wherever she wanted.
“Good.” She moved off the bar. “Stay here. My friend will be right with you.”
With that, she went back to her table, stood over it and she and the cute little blonde who was newly on Nick’s radar started chatting. About what, Dean couldn’t hear, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.
“He’s not married and he’s not involved.” Tasha’s unbending voice delivered her words straight to the point. “Get your butt over there and talk to him. Find out if he could be the right man for the job.” Her tone eased up and she giggled.
“Right now?” Lecie’s fear escaped with her words. “What’ll I say?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Tasha paused, as if thinking about it. “Have you ever been arrested? You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
“Like he’d tell me.” Lecie huffed as Deidra nudged her out of the booth.
“If you’re ready to go back to France…” Tasha waved dramatically at the booth. “Then by all means, have a seat.”
Lecie practically stomped her way to the bar where Nick’s best friend was waiting for her. She stole a glance at Nick’s table. He and his other friends were watching intently. Back at the bar, Dean wore the face of curiosity.
Lecie hopped up on a bar stool next to him and tried to smile, finding it oddly curious how hard that was. It wasn’t every day that she asked a stranger on a date—much less to marry her.
“Afternoon.” His own smile changed from one of arrogance to something more along the lines of caution. “You and your friends…” He glanced at the booth, then back to Lecie. “You bored? Got a bet going on?”
Lecie let out a big sigh. “This was a bad idea.” She prepared to jump off the stool, but Dean’s gentle hand on her arm calmed her.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked in a gentle, playful way.
“No.” She settled back onto the stool. “But this is still a bad idea,” she added, shaking her head.
“You and your friend have already made me look like a fool,” he said, as if the joke was on him. “Don’t I at least get to know why?”
Lecie hadn’t considered that. She knew all about looking like an idiot, and she didn’t want to knowingly put anyone in that position. “See…” She gestured toward the booth where Deidra, Camille and Tasha were all watching their every move. “We’re all from France.”
Dean shook his head. “The chick who was just here is an American.”
“Yes…but she’s married to my brother.” Lecie shuffled her eyes back and forth between the booth and Dean. “The one sitting beside her is married to my other brother.”
“I see,” he said, but the look on his face suggested otherwise.
“Anyway…” Lecie looked around, wishing she’d brought her drink with her. “Any chance you want to make a hundred grand for a few months of your time?”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Every couple of seconds, Lecie thought a smile was going to break out on his mouth, but it never did. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he said, “Doing what? Is it legal?”
She thought about it. “Mostly.” Although immigration probably wouldn’t like it much.
“Doing what?”
“I need someone to marry me,” she said. “Just for a few months, though.”
Dean tilted his head and stared at her like she was crazy. “Let me get this straight…you’re gonna pay somebody to marry you for a few months?”
She nodded. “How does one hundred grand sound?”
“A hundred grand?” he asked, as if it was the nuttiest thing he’d ever heard.
“Okay, two hundred and fifty thousand.” She raised her hand between them. “Up front. The minute you sign the marriage license.”
“Let me guess…” He gave her a hard glare. “You have tons of money, problem is you can’t access it right now. But if I can come up with say ten grand, you’ll be able to get to it. Am I close?”
“No.” Lecie shook her head, mildly insulted by his insinuation. “I can get to my money just fine. I’m talking about a business deal. Six months of your time in exchange for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. No funding on your part. No strings attached, except that to immigration the marriage must appear real.” She sucked in a breath, feeling completely humiliated. “Six months, quarter of a million dollars. What do you say?”
“Who put you up to this?” he asked, then looked over his shoulder and pointed at Nick. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
Nick strolled over and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Hey…” Dean kept pointing at Nick but looked at Lecie. “He’s the one who needs money. Marry him.”
“What?” Nick said, almost laughing.
Lecie’s eyes darted between the two of them and settled on Dean. “He’s already married.” Her gaze wandered over to Nick, “aren’t you?”