Page 17 of The Fiancée Farce
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” A smile flirted at the corner of Gemma’s mouth. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” she conceded, grudgingly. Purplewasher favorite color. “Let me guess—your favorite color is pink?”
Gemma laughed and plucked a spray bottle off the coffee table. “Nice guess, but no. The apartment belonged to my grandmother, Mara, whose tastes ran a little... eccentric. She left it to me, and I considered redecorating, but it’s got a certain... charm.” Gemma wandered over to a potted fern in the corner, spritzing the fronds. “The place grows on you, after a while.”
“Literally.” Teddy flicked a dangling vine of devil’s ivy out of his face as he drew back the curtains in front of the window, revealing a balcony covered in plants.
“Yvonne is our resident plant queer,” Gemma said, setting the spray bottle aside.
“Yvonne?”
“Another roommate,” Gemma said.
Another, as opposed toother. “How many roommates do you have?”
“Five.”
Five?Gemma had as many roommates as Belltown Books had employees.
Teddy let the curtain fall. “Occasionally more, if we catch a stray or two.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “He means if we have friends visit from out of town.”
Tansy glanced around the apartment. “And these other roommates of yours? Are they home?”
Gemma shook her head, and Tansy let out a sigh of relief. She was feeling a mite overwhelmed as it was.
“Lucy’s on a business trip,” Gemma said. “The others—”
“Are in Auburn,” Teddy said. “Concert.”
A pop of magenta caught her eye from the other side of the room. She’d call it art, but the pushpins threw her off. “What’s that?”
“I see you’ve spotted our Conquest Collage,” Teddy said.
No fewer than two dozen photographs had been tacked to the wall, hot pink string strung between them in a dizzying web like some sort of suspect wall. One of those photosdidlook suspiciously like a mug shot... “Your what?”
“It’s silly,” Gemma said, coming to stand beside her, close enough that their elbows bumped when Gemma crossed her arms.
“Excuse you, but it was my idea and it was brilliant.” Teddy turned and addressed Tansy. “As you’re well aware, Gemma needs to get hitched posthaste. Prior to your fortuitous meeting last night, it made the most sense to tap into her pool of past pursuits, as opposed to exploring . . . novel avenues. Less legwork, less explaining all around. Hence, the Conquest Collage.”
Teddy’s words gave her pause. “Wait. Exactly how many people are in on this?”
“My roommates,” Gemma said. “Justmy roommates. All of whom I trust to keep a secret.”
Tansy didn’t relish anyone knowing she’d lied, but it could be worse. It could always be worse.
She turned back to the wall and studied the collage more closely. By no means was she a pop culture fiend, but she’d have to be living under a rock not to recognize at least a few faces. Models, mostly. All breathtaking. Tansy’s self-esteem wilted. “These are all people you’ve dated?”
Gemma reached out, plucking at one of the taut pink strings. It vibrated quietly, the sound causing the hair on the nape of Tansy’s neck to stand on end. “Dated, slept with, was spotted out with in public. Time is of the essence. I can’t really afford to be picky.”
Tansy tried not to let that sting and failed miserably. She knew what this was and what it wasn’t. In no way was she under the delusion that she was Gemma’s first choice. She was here, she fit the bill. What had Gemma called it? A business merger, a marriage of convenience.
Every little girl’s dream.
Her eyes drifted, landing on a snapshot of a man posing on a red carpet. “Is that—”
“Taylor’s lucky all he kept was her scarf.” Gemma pursed her lips. “He made off with a pair of my La Perla panties.”
