Fiancee for Hire by Tawna Fenske

that in a two-hour span. I’m nothing if not efficient.”
    “And this is why I love you. Well, and because you buy me sex toys for my birthday. So have you slept with him, or is he holding out on you with the full-meal deal?”
    “For now I’m stealing fries from his Happy Meal,” Kelli said. “I’m working my way up to demanding the super-sized combo.”
    “Atta girl. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt here.”
    “Please. If there were Olympic medals for avoiding emotional attachment, your brother and I would both be vying for gold.”
    “About that, Kel. I know your parents did a number on you, and I don’t blame you for having issues with abandonment, but—”
    “It’s okay, really,” Kelli interrupted, her voice so bright it hurt her ears. “Seriously, I’m fine. So, uh—is the temp vet taking good care of my clinic?”
    Sheri didn’t respond right away. Kelli fiddled with the tie on her bikini bottoms, hoping her friend would just let it drop.
    “The best,” Sheri said at last. “I checked on him yesterday, just like you asked. All is well.”
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem. I should probably get back to the boys. It was good hearing from you, Kel.”
    “You, too. I miss you.”
    “I miss you, too. Stay safe. And don’t fall for my idiot brother.”
    “Not a chance.” She hung up hoping like hell that was true.
    The last thing she needed was to get attached to someone whose entire existence revolved around avoiding emotional involvement. Wasn’t that a recipe for a broken heart? A woman terrified of abandonment falling for a guy hell-bent on never staying with anyone. Talk about ridiculous.
    She pushed all thoughts of emotional entanglement and abandonment out of her mind and spent the rest of the day reviewing Mac’s files. At five, she went upstairs to get changed. She chose an Emilio Pucci dress—strapless, of course, no bra—and a pair of Louboutin nude peep-toe heels that added an extra four inches to her frame. She spritzed on her favorite jasmine perfume, then studied the small stash of jewelry she’d brought with her.
    She had a few costume pieces, but none of them looked quite right. She hesitated over the pearl-drop necklace her mother had given her when she’d turned twelve. The necklace had belonged to her grandmother, but Kelli’s mom had added a tiny paw-print charm that left seven-year-old Kelli swooning with delight.
    Kelli’s mom had slurred her way through the wedding story as she presented the necklace to her daughter. “Love’s fine and shit, but don’t count on men to give you what you need,” she’d mumbled. “Men leave, you know. Can’t trust them to stick around and take care of you, so you’ve gotta get out there yourself and grab life by the balls.”
    “Okay, Mommy.”
    Considering much of Kelli’s career involved lopping off testicles, she hadn’t strayed too far from the advice. Kelli considered that, touching the pearls and the tiny paw-print charm. She took a deep breath and turned from the mirror.
    She walked downstairs with her heart in her throat, hoping she was adequately prepared to bluff her way through a dinner party with a fake fiancé and a real arms dealer.
    “Wow,” Mac said as Kelli descended the stairs. His gaze traveled the length of her legs, the curve of her waist, the bare skin of her shoulders. He reached out to brush the silk hem of the dress.
    “Is that chartreuse or aubergine?”
    Kelli grinned and let him take her hand at the bottom of the steps, planting a chaste kiss across her knuckles.
    “It’s black, goofball,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it cost more than my condo. Thank you.”
    “You look incredible. Griz will have a conniption.”
    “Griz?”
    “Griselda. Zapata’s wife. The one I—uh—”
    “Screwed before you realized you also wanted to screw her husband in a different way?”
    “You do have a way with words sometimes.”
    “I’ll behave at dinner, I promise.”
    “I