Free Falling For Her Fake Fiancé (The Beaumont Heirs 5) by Sarah M. Anderson

on her current budget, it was a necessary concession.
    “What? Something good?”
    Frances grinned. Becky was easily excitable. Frances was pretty sure she could hear her friend bouncing up and down. “Something great. I found an investor.”
    There was some screaming. Frances held the phone as far away from her face as she could until the noise died down. She flicked through the hangers. She needed something sexy that didn’t look as if she was trying too hard. The red gown would definitely be trying too hard for a Monday at the office. “Still with me?”
    “Ohmygosh—this is so exciting! How much were they willing to invest?”
    Frances braced herself for more screaming. “Up to five.”
    “Thousand?”
    “Million.” She immediately jerked the phone away from her head, but there was no sound. She cautiously put it back to her ear. “Becky?”
    “I—it—what? I heard you wrong,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I thought you said...”
    “Million. Five million,” Frances repeated, her fingers landing on her one good suit—the Escada. It was a conservative cut—at least by her standards—with a formfitting pencil skirt that went below her knee and a close-cropped jacket with only a little peplum at the waist.
    It was the color, however—a warm hot pink—that made her impossible to miss.
    Oh—this would be perfect. All business but still dramatic. She pulled it out.
    “What—how?
How?
” Frances had never heard Becky this speechless before. “Your brothers?”
    Frances laughed. “Oh no—you know Chadwick cut me off after the last debacle. This is a new investor.”
    There was a pause. “Is he cute?”
    Frances scowled—not that Becky could see it, but she did anyway. She did not like being predictable. “No.” And that wasn’t a lie.
    Ethan was
not
cute. He existed in the space between handsome and gorgeous. He wasn’t pretty enough to be gorgeous—his features were too rough, too masculine. But handsome—that wasn’t right, either. He exuded too much raw sexuality to be handsome.
    “Well?” Becky demanded.
    “He’s...nice.”
    “Are you sleeping with him?”
    “No, it’s not like that. In fact, sex isn’t even on the table.” Her mind oh so helpfully provided a mental picture that completely contradicted that statement. She could see it now—Ethan bending her over a table, yanking her skirt up and her panties down and—
    Becky interrupted that thought. “Frannie, I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”
    “I won’t,” she promised. “But I have a meeting with him tomorrow morning. How quickly can you revise the business plan to accommodate a five-million-dollar investment?”
    “Uh... Let me call you back,” Becky said.
    “Thanks, Becks.” Frances ended the call and fingered the fine wool of her suit. This wasn’t stupid, really. This was...marriage with a purpose. And that purpose went far beyond funding an art gallery, although that was one part of it.
    This was about putting the Beaumonts back in control of their own destiny. Okay, this was about putting one Beaumont—Frances—back in control of her destiny. But that still counted for a lot. She needed to get over this slump she was in. She needed her name to mean something again. She needed to feel as if she’d done something for the family honor instead of being a deadweight.
    Marrying Ethan was the means to a bunch of different ends. That was all.
    Those other men who’d proposed, they’d wanted what she represented, too—the Beaumont name, the Beaumont fortune—but they’d never wanted her. Not the real her. They had wanted the illusion of perfection she projected. They wanted her to look good on their arm.
    What was different about Ethan? Well, he got points for being up front about his motivations. Nothing couched in sweet words about how special she was or anything. Just a straight-up negotiation. It was refreshing. Really. She didn’t want anything sweet that was nothing but a lie. She