And Chloe was his.

His weakness, but not his secret. Not anymore. He didn’t think he’d left any room for doubt about how he felt about her.

“She was in trouble, and I helped her out. That’s it. End of story. I’m not going to stand by and watch anyone I know get attacked.” He made it sound perfectly reasonable, he thought, like he was some sort of freelance do-gooder.

Marcy didn’t look like she was buying a word of it. She’d seen him charge out of the restaurant like a crazy man to get to Chloe yesterday, after all.

“So, that Bride Blog thing yesterday … I never actually saw it.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Marcy warned, handing him a printout with the pertinent parts highlighted in yellow.

He scanned the article. It referred to him as Fiancé No. 2 and mentioned that stupid eligible bachelor list he’d been on, then got to the she-just-wanted-him-for-his-money part.

Well, that hurt.

Still.

He’d hurled that particular accusation at her after they broke up. Sometimes he believed it, sometimes he didn’t, but it still had the power to make him seriously annoyed.

“Well, I’ve never been happy being No. 2 in anything,” he said, handing that piece of trash back to Marcy. “And please tell me they’re wrong about that stupid bachelor list. I can’t be on that thing again!”

Marcy looked a little nervous. “The Single Woman’s Guide to Bachelor Hunting in New York? I called. I’m afraid you’re going to be on it again.”

James cringed. He’d made New York Woman’s annual bachelor list for the first time a few weeks before he and Chloe had gotten engaged. Truly rotten timing, because women could be so aggressive these days. They’d been all over him. It had been a constant annoyance and a major source of tension between him and Chloe. So once again, this was the worst possible timing.

“What do I have to do to get off that stupid list?” he asked.

“Lose all your money or get married,” she said, demonstrating that logical Marcy was still in there somewhere. “Or I guess you could leave New York.”

No good options there. “Maybe we could just buy the stupid magazine and do away with the list.”

Marcy paused, pen and pad in hand, like she wasn’t sure whether she should write that down or not.

“I’m not that desperate yet. Still, there has to be something we can do.”

“Well, it seems obvious. You need a girlfriend,” Marcy advised.

“No, I don’t.” He was still smarting from the last one. Chloe.

“A very public girlfriend,” Marcy insisted. “Take her out, smile for the photographers, just as that stupid list comes out. That way, women will think you’re taken and leave you alone.”

No, they wouldn’t. He was painfully aware of that. Of course, it might be even worse, even more women, more aggressive, if he appeared to be completely available.

“I guess that would be less of a hassle than buying the damned magazine. When does the issue come out?”

“Next week. You’ll have to date fast.”

A very public girlfriend?

One of those women who needed three hours to pull herself together to walk out the door, who wanted every moment of her life gossiped about, speculated about and, best of all, captured on film.

Which made him think about Chloe. Vince had said that morning, Date her, you’re going to get your picture taken.

Chloe as his very public, fake girlfriend.

As if reading his mind, Marcy continued. “You’ve already got a good start on it. Your rescue of Ms. Allen was like something out of a fairy tale.” She sighed heavily. “It played very well in the blogs today, the way you took her in your arms and fought to get her to safety. People already want to know about the two of you.”

Marcy got a particularly dreamy look on her face. James didn’t want to admit that Chloe’s behavior might be attributable to a slight blow to the head that left her disoriented. It would ruin the whole fantasy–fairy tale element, and he’d seldom seen Marcy look so happy—and maybe a little goofy.

He feared he’d looked the same way when he’d finally seen Chloe the day before—just plain goofy-giddy-stupid with happiness. Hopefully Chloe was too confused to remember.

“Marcy, come back to me,” he said.

“Sorry. I was just thinking, from that photo, you might be able to convince people you and Ms. Allen have been seeing each other for a while, and that maybe she wasn’t engaged to that secretly gay photographer.”

Okay, James couldn’t deny that would be useful, if his purpose was truly to keep Chloe’s business from going under and maybe … to get to spend some time with Chloe while doing it. And he wanted some time with her. No lying to himself about that anymore. Or he was just nuts right now. Chloe Derangement Syndrome. He’d had it before.

“If anyone asks about Chloe and me, don’t deny it,” he told Marcy.

Marcy brightened instantly. “That you and Ms. Allen are involved?”

“Right. Tell them that we have been for a while.”

Marcy was positively rapturous now. James wouldn’t be surprised if Marcy had suggested this whole scheme because he and Chloe would end up in the tabloids some more. Marcy would love every moment of that.

“I want a full briefing on how the riot played in the blogs, the gossip sites…. You know, all that stuff.”

“Of course.” It was a dream-come-true assignment for Marcy.

“I have to go. Cancel my morning meetings. I’ll call you later about what to do with my afternoon schedule.”

He had to pitch the plan to Chloe. The one to save her business. She’d do anything to save her business, wouldn’t she?

Even pretend to be dating him again?

“He’s coming!” Addie whispered furiously to Chloe soon after they unlocked the salon doors that morning, happy to find no rioting brides and only a few tabloid photographers outside.

But now he was coming, and there was only one he, as far as she was concerned.

“How do I look?” Chloe asked, because she couldn’t help herself.

She was still seriously annoyed at how she’d just crawled out of bed, her hair a mess, still wearing her PJs, when he’d seen her yesterday. Every woman had fantasies of how great she’d look the next time a man who broke her heart saw her again, and in all the fantasies, she looked fabulous. He would be shocked at how good she looked, sad he ever lost her, and beg her to take him back. It was a universal female fantasy, and Chloe feared she didn’t look good enough for him this time, either.

“You’re good. You’re very good,” Addie said. “Just pinch your cheeks a little bit. You could use some more color. And wet your lips. That’s it. You want to look kissable. Very kissable.”

“I do?” Chloe wasn’t sure she could stand it if he kissed her.

“You’re right. It’s James. You don’t.”

Chloe sighed. “Why do you think he’s here?”

“I have no idea, but he photographs well, especially in rescue mode. So I think, despite everything else, we should be nice to him.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“But not too nice,” Addie said. “I don’t want him to hurt you again.”

“Right. Me, either.” She was such a wimp where he was concerned. “Addie, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Of course you can. You just had your whole career and your love life land in the toilet, and half the world saw photos and video of it, but you survived. You can handle seeing this man again.”

“You’re right.” He couldn’t possibly humiliate her as much as she’d already been humiliated. She had that going for her.

He walked in looking characteristically gorgeous and uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Or maybe he was afraid some disaster might strike at any moment, like the riot he’d been in the midst of the day before. Even Chloe was scared of walking into her own shop right now, so she could understand how he would be, too.

Addie gave her a smile and disappeared, probably just to the other side of the door of the showroom, if Chloe knew her sister. She’d be close if Chloe needed her—and she’d want to hear what James had to say.