Free The Boss's Fake Fiancee by Inara Scott Page B

“It wasn’t the same.”
    Though his tone was dismissive, Melissa recalled with a wince that his parents had died when he was young. No wonder he was so attached to his grandmother.
    They continued walking, stopping at the end of the hall. Garth rapped gently on a white-framed door. Melissa steeled herself. She was about to meet the woman he would, apparently, do anything to protect. She tried to picture an 85-year-old version of Garth who believed the stories she read in tabloids and loved little white dogs, but the picture wouldn’t compute. Then again, the deeper Melissa got into this house, the less any of this computed.
    “Come in,” a high-pitched voice replied.
    Garth opened the door to an expansive room, dominated on one end by an adjustable bed and a collection of red-eyed, blinking machines. A middle-aged woman—presumably the nurse—leaned over the bed, obscuring Melissa’s view of his grandmother, while a blood pressure machine beeped beside them. On the far end of the room, a set of French doors and a bank of windows looked out onto a veranda, gardens, and what appeared to be a swimming pool.
    “No more talking,” the nurse reproved her patient. “It throws off the results.”
    “Is everything okay?” Garth asked immediately.
    “Fine,” the nurse replied, sounding as if she’d answered that question many times before. She wore a pair of thick-soled sneakers, white pants, and a multi-colored hospital scrub shirt. “Just doing the vitals.”
    The machine gave a long whoosh and the nurse removed a Velcro arm cuff from her patient. “One fifty over ninety. That’s what you get for having two cups of coffee, Mrs. Solen.”
    “I’m an old woman,” a high-pitched, querulous voice replied. “If I want an extra cup of coffee, I’m going to have it.”
    The nurse rolled her eyes. “She’s all yours,” she said to Garth.
    Melissa hadn’t realized that Garth had reached out to grab her hand until they were connected. He led her to the side of the bed.
    “Nan,” he said. “This is Melissa Bencher. My fiancée.”

Chapter Eight
    Garth’s grandmother sat upright in an adjustable bed. Her snowy hair had been carefully arranged into waves around her face, and she wore a simple white nightgown. Two spots of color flushed the apples of her cheeks, which were otherwise pale ivory. Her gray-blue eyes were sharp and focused, though her body appeared undeniably fragile.
    Her smile—a stark contrast to her grandson’s tight-lipped grimace—could not have been more welcoming. Melissa tumbled straight in love with her gentle countenance.
    “Ah, Melissa.” Nan leaned forward, gesturing for her to approach. “What a thrill to meet the woman who has stolen my grandson’s heart. Come closer and let me have a look at you.”
    Melissa felt a sudden jolt of nervousness. Would the truth be written on her face?
    She tugged on Garth’s hand so he would accompany her to his grandmother’s bedside. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Solen.”
    “Oh my, call me Nan, dear!” She laughed, which set off a round of coughing. Her thin shoulders hunched, and Melissa shot a quick look at Garth, who had fixed a stare on his grandmother. The cough sounded deep and painful, though as soon as she recovered, Nan pulled herself upright and slapped a smile on her face.
    “Do you want something to drink?” Garth asked. “Should we come back later?”
    His expression barely changed, but Melissa couldn’t miss the dark flash of fear in his eyes. He might hide his emotions behind a mask, but it was not impenetrable.
    “Oh Lord, no! I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I’m not going to miss it for a little cough. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get out of bed.” She touched the front of her nightgown and smiled at Melissa in apology. “You’ll have to forgive me for my informal attire.”
    Melissa took in the wide, beaming smile, which showed no hint of hesitation or doubt, and immediately felt a stab of