Free The Marriage Bargain by Sandra Edwards Page B

headed out for college. Now she’d give anything to talk to Granny Mae again.
    “Tell me,” Lecie turned to Camille. “Where did you two meet? Was it romantic? I want to hear all about it.” The enthusiasm in her voice fueled Camille’s mounting fear.
    She and Julian had never talked about where they were supposed to have met. They had to have a story, didn’t they? Asking people to believe they’d accidentally fallen in love after she answered his ad in the L.A. Trades was probably asking a bit too much.
    Camille squeezed Julian’s hand, hoping to impart some of her worry to him.
    “We’ll talk about that later.” Julian’s promising tone was convincing, even for Camille. “Right now, let’s let Camille settle in so she can rest before dinner.” He guided Camille up an outdoor set of stairs that looked like it was made of marble, and led to an impressive set of double doors.
    Lecie trotted up the steps after them, her devilish laughter tapping the worry receptors in Camille’s brain. Camille sought to push the alarm aside.
    “You’ll both need to rest up,” Lecie said, as if she was privy to some secret information. “Guess who’s coming to dinner?”
    If she said Madeleine, Camille would just burst.
    Julian raised an eyebrow. “How many guests are we having?”
    “Just a small party,” she said, with a teasing wink. “About thirty.”
    Camille’s heart jumped into her throat. It didn’t take a genius to realize Madeleine would be seated next to Julian while Camille, his supposed fiancée, would be at the other end of a very long table.
    Julian opened the double doors to the most elegant and extravagant foyer of marble and granite Camille had ever seen. Lecie grabbed her free arm and Camille clung to Julian with the other. He wrapped her arm around his. The strength of his hand atop hers was so male, so agreeable.
    “Over here,” he said, pointing to the right, “are a couple of salons, a library, and my father’s office.” Julian focused his attention in the opposite direction. “And over here are several dining rooms and the kitchen. It’s fully modernized now, but the old hearth my ancestors used is still intact and in working order.” He chuckled. “Not that today’s servants relish the idea of cooking over an open fire.”
    The fireplace in the kitchen intrigued Camille, but Julian led her to a spiral staircase just in front of them. Somewhere along the way they’d lost Lecie, and Camille found herself alone with Julian as they climbed the stairs.
    “You and I are on the third floor. Technically, the entryway is on the second.” He wrapped his arm around her midriff and her body tingled from the contact. She wondered what it would be like getting locked in Julian’s embrace, but she didn’t dare voice the thought out loud.
    He led her around a corner and swung a door open, gesturing her inside. From out of nowhere, Lecie appeared behind them.
    Camille put forth extra effort to push her doubts aside. She needed a friend in this place. The next six months might be unbearable without one. She stepped into the room, surprised to find her recent purchases and her luggage already inside the suite.
    Julian stopped in the doorway, blocking his sister’s entry. “We will see you in a little while,” he said, and closed the door between them.
    The most sorrowful look crossed his face when he turned to Camille. “I am sorry, Chéri. The thought of where or how we met never crossed my mind,” he said, extending his arms.
    Outstretched arms. Too tempting.
    She rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. Doubts over the mess wobbled her head. There were too many holes. Their story hadn’t been thought out clearly.
    “How are we ever going to make anyone believe you came to America last week, we fell in love and now we’re getting married?” Camille flung her hands into the air. “France would have to be full of a bunch of idiots for us to pull that off.”
    “Your friend