Perfect Partners

By Judy Gill

Doug Fountain wants a fake fiancee? He want Marilyn Ross? She thinks not! To embarrass him she agrees to meet him and his granddad for lunch and lays a kiss on him that curls his toes--and hers. Oops!

Doug knows quickly he wants Marilyn not just short-term, but long-term. that she's the one who can fulfill his dreams.

Marilyn, sadly, knows she lacks one important ability...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Judy Gill
• Release date: May 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452379159

Judy Gill

Judy Griffith Gill lives on Canada's west coast--the Sunshine Coast of BC--with her husband of (mumblety-five) years. Over those years, they raised two beautiful, successful daughters both of whom are married to fine men and have blessed the Gills with three grandchildren. She is writing less, but enjoying it more, along with summers afloat aboard the cabin cruiser she and her husband own. When not out boating or enjoying dock parties with friends, she grows everything from blueberries to raspberries, interspersed with herbs and plenty of flowers, on her patio. Her oldest daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter live nearby--near enough her granddaughter willingly waters the plants when Judy is afloat.

Book preview

Perfect Partners

by Judy Griffith Gill

Published by JggBooks at Smashwords

© Judy Griffith Gill 2010

Chapter One

With her secretary busy on another line, Marilyn picked up the ringing phone on her desk. Perfect Partners, Marilyn Ross speaking.

This is Miss Parsons at JetCorp headquarters. Both voice and manner demanded that Marilyn be most impressed and humbly aware of the honor bestowed on her menial company by this grand event. I have a call for Mr. Edwin Watson from Mr. Douglas Fountain Junior. Please hold and I’ll connect.

Mr. Wat— Marilyn ground her molars together as the secretary on the other end cut her off with a decisive, electronic click. Executives who instructed their staff to make the telephone connection then get them online were one of her pet peeves. She prepared herself automatically to dislike Douglas Fountain Junior, who clearly considered his time more valuable than hers. But in her business as a head hunter, she’d learned to live with it. Live with it, but not like it.

The line clicked again, as if the connection had been made, but there were no other sounds for several seconds. Then, following another series of clicks, Marilyn heard one of the most fascinating conversations of her career.

I am quite certain ‘Perfect Partners’ is not what you think it is, Doug, Miss Parsons said, sounding even snootier than when she had spoken to Marilyn.

No? And what do I think it is, Emma? asked a male voice, husky, slightly raspy, but pleasant to the ear. Mr. Douglas Fountain Junior, Marilyn guessed. His subtly amused tone gave her an instant image of a cocked eyebrow, a faint smile. He sounded… not boyish, but certainly not old. Prime up-and-coming young executive, she thought, as the brief silence was broken by a delicately disdainful sniff from Miss Parsons.

You think it’s a… a dating service, don’t you? The JetCorp secretary’s tone had Marilyn envisioning an outraged glare.

Actually, no, he said, and something about his too-serious manner narrowed Marilyn’s eyes in suspicion. His next words brought an instant grin to her face: As far as I know, it’s what’s euphemistically referred to as an ‘escort service,’ he said in a so there manner that told Marilyn he thought no such thing. The rat! He was pulling his secretary’s leg. Another irritable, secretarial sniff suggested to Marilyn exactly what that reason could be. Miss Parsons sounded like a stiff-necked old prude, and likely Mr. Young Executive junior took great pleasure in teasing her.

Really, she should let the two of them know that this conversation wasn’t private. But before she could, the man continued.

I also think, he said, that a company with a name like Perfect Partners might be exactly the place I’ll find what I’m looking for—-a woman in need of a lucrative position. A semi permanent, or even permanent, lucrative position. After all, didn’t what’s-his-name end up with the hooker in that old movie?

I wouldn’t know. Emma didn’t quite huff, but came close to it. I do not watch films in which there are, er, hookers. It was obviously a difficult word for her to say.

Marilyn was about to laugh aloud, thereby letting the secretary and Douglas Fountain Junior know that the line was open and she could hear every word, when he said, Since the woman I seek is already accustomed to selling her commodity to a series of individuals, she should have no objection to selling it to one man on an exclusive basis over an indefinite period.

Good heavens! Maybe he was serious! Now, not only was the line open, but Marilyn’s eyes and mouth and ears were all wide. Still, she couldn’t have hung up at that point if someone had threatened her with a flamethrower.

I intend to make the terms very attractive to the right woman, Douglas Fountain said.

Really? Marilyn wanted to ask. And what would those terms be, and more to the point, what kind of person would the right woman be?

Emma asked the last question for her. How attractive do you expect to find this woman, considering her past, er, activities?

The man laughed. I have utterly no intention of getting emotionally or physically involved with the woman, so what do I care about her past? My requirements are clear. She needs to be easy to look at, disease-free, socially adept, fertile, and willing to bear a son for me, maybe two.

How will you accomplish that without, er… physical involvement?

Aha! Thank you Miss Emma Parsons. That was exactly what Marilyn had been wondering herself.

Did you never hear of artificial insemination? he asked, his voice silky smooth again. I’ll happily provide a nanny to raise the children, which will make the whole thing a mere temporary inconvenience for her. One for which she will be more than adequately compensated before she’s dispensed with. And that’s all.

"That is disgusting! Emma took the words right out of Marilyn’s mouth. You’re not serious about this?"

Me? Not serious? When have I ever been anything but serious about business? Wouldn’t hiring someone to do the job provide a solution to the problem my grandfather expects me to solve?

A problem of your own making. This time, Emma’s sniff was anything but delicate. You should never have let Caroline go.

Whatever the man might have said to that was lost in the sound of a door opening, and the secretary saying, Sir, he’s on the pho—

An older male voice, impatient, brusque, boomed, Then he’d better get off it. We have business, Doug and I, and he knows it.

A door slammed. Then, Well, my boy? Your three months are up as of noon today. What do you have to report?

Excuse me, said the man who’d been talking to Emma. Have a seat, Granddad. I’ll be with you in a moment. I’m on the phone. Connect me now, please, Emma.

There came another couple of clicks, then, My darling, he crooned into Marilyn’s ear. I’ve missed you, and I’ve been waiting for your call.

Stunned into silence, Marilyn stared at the phone for a moment before replying, This is Marilyn Ross at Perfect Partners and I think you either have the wrong number or the wrong idea entirely as to what Perfect Partners is all about. She was about to hang up when he spoke again quickly.

I hope you’ve managed to rearrange your day, Marilyn, my love, so you can make lunch after all. My grandfather is more than eager to meet you. Will Edwin be joining us, too?

Stupefied, she could think of nothing sensible to say. Obviously, he didn’t have the wrong number, which she’d known from the beginning, just the wrong conception, which she was beginning to believe. Though if he knew Edwin, her uncle and the former owner of Perfect Partners, he must know what services her company provided. And what they did not.

He leapt into the vacuum of her silence. Not only do I want to see you—no —he dropped his voice to an intimate, lover like tone— "make that need to see you, I’m also in need of Edwin’s advice again. I have an extremely lucrative position to offer, and I know he’ll be able to find just the right person to fill it. Could you either put him on the line, or ask him to join us for lunch?"

Marilyn found herself trying not to laugh. If she ever started, she might not stop, and the laughter would have a tinge of hysteria. Obviously Uncle Edwin was right; she needed a vacation. Too bad this kook couldn’t have waited until next Monday to call, when her uncle would have been the one in charge. By then, she’d have been enjoying well-earned rest lolling around in her own backyard, doing nothing more mentally taxing than figuring out which were good plants and which were weeds. This being her first spring in the Pacific Northwest, she had yet to discover all the little secrets of gardening in a rain forest. She knew only that things grew with amazing speed and the variety astounded her.

Listen, whoever you are, she said, knowing perfectly well at least his name, if nothing else about him, but unable to admit it, because then he’d know she’d been eavesdropping, whatever your game is, you obviously don’t know that my uncle Edwin retired nearly a year ago. I’ve taken over his business. If you have a lucrative position that needs filling, perhaps you could explain it to me and I’ll see what I can do. I’m always willing to help one of Perfect Partners’ longtime clients.

She paused for a moment, then the devil made her do it. She asked, What did you say your name is?

Doug’s mind went blank. How could he tell his supposed lover, right in front of his grandfather, what his name was?

Over the phone came a bubble of laughter, followed by a gentle, teasing question that brought an involuntary smile to his lips and an appreciative chuckle from his chest. You do know what your name is, don’t you?

He knew what his name was, and realized, also, that she probably knew, too. Of course she did. Emma would have announced who the call was from, so this woman, Marilyn Ross, undoubtedly had Who’s Who in Business open on her desk at that very moment and was scanning his entry.

She’d know by now that he was once married, once divorced, thirty-eight years old, CEO and heir apparent of JetCorp, a family-owned conglomerate worth billions. Try as he had since being shoehorned into the position he held with the company, he’d been unable to keep the low profile he’d have preferred. Trouble was, nearly everyone knew his family history, knew what he looked like, and all too often, women considered him fair game for those two reasons alone.

He certainly didn’t object to women or to their attentions, but it would be a treat, he’d long ago decided, to have one take an interest in him because of who he was, not who his family was and what they had, or what they thought his personal financial worth might be.

Marilyn Ross, he sensed, might be teasing him, but she wasn’t flirting. That intrigued him. He wished he knew what she looked like. Her voice, her manner, her warm laughter combined to create a tantalizing picture in his mind, one that lacked form, though not color.

Marilyn, my love, he said, and noticed on a detached level that his voice had dropped an octave in a genuine and unexpected response to this unknown woman, if your uncle Edwin can’t find just the employee I’m looking for, then my name is not Douglas Ellery Fountain Junior.

She laughed again. Oh, very well done, Mr. Fountain. Nice recovery. Tell me, what would you have done if it had been my uncle on the phone when you first said ‘My darling’? More to the point, what do you think he’d have done?

He couldn’t answer that with his grandfather listening, so he ignored the question, which he recognized as just another way for her to taunt him.

Please ask Edwin to join us for lunch at the Fountainhead. And also ask him for the rest of the day off. Remember, you and I have to look for that very special diamond, now, don’t we?

Her sudden splutter of laughter delighted him. Thank heaven this woman had a sense of humor. He was beginning to think she might even be willing to help him out of this bind if he played his cards right. Actually, darling, she said, I much prefer emeralds.

He chuckled. Then an emerald it will be, my sweet. But perhaps surrounded by diamonds? From the moment of our first meeting, I’ve thought the fire in diamonds would enhance the fire in your eyes.

If this is an invitation to lunch, Mr. Fountain, it’s unique. Tell you what; I’m going to phone my uncle and ask him if he actually knows you and thinks you’re sane. If he does, I’ll meet you and your grandfather for lunch, because after all, business is business, and I’d hate to lose a client. But I very much doubt Uncle Ed will be joining us. He’s retired and spends most of his time at his beach house on the Sunshine Coast.

Ah, yes, that wonderful beach house of his! I meant to ask him if he’d lend it to us as a honeymoon hideaway. Do you think he will?

Maybe I won’t bother phoning him. Marilyn laughed. It’s obvious you’re not all there. I mean, diamonds and emeralds are one thing, but now we’re talking marriage and honeymoon? This is getting pretty serious, isn’t it, for two people who have never met?

I’m all here, darling, all six feet, three inches of me, all two hundred ten pounds, and all yours.

And your grandfather is listening to your end of this crazy conversation and for some reason you want him to think I’m your fiancée, so my refusing to have lunch with you would cause any number of problems, right?

Marilyn, I always said it was your brains that attracted me first.

What? Not the five-foot-two, eyes-of-blue thing? Or the three hundred twenty-five pounds of wanton, lovin’ woman all in one solid little package?

Little? Doug gulped. Solid?

Fine, then, she continued. The Fountainhead at what time? I do hope they have chocolate mousse for dessert.

One-thirty, he said. Did his voice sound as hollow to her and his grandfather as it did to him? See you there… darling.

Josie, Marilyn’s secretary, stretched her back after leaning over a filing cabinet, and glanced through the doorway to Marilyn’s office. What was that all about? Your blond hair, blue eyes, and three hundred twenty-five pounds?

Just an old client of my uncle’s, Marilyn said. He wants me to meet him for lunch. I’m having a little fun with him.

I thought you didn’t believe in mixing business with fun.

I don’t, but that was the strangest call. She frowned. Have you ever heard of a man named Douglas Fountain?

Josie gaped. Well, of course I have! Everyone has. She shook her head rapidly, tossing her short, gold-streaked brown curls into wilder disarray than normal. Junior or senior? Oh. Must have been junior. I did hear you calling him ‘darling,’ didn’t I? This sounds a lot more like fun and games than business.

It’s strictly business, he is junior, and he started it. The ‘darling’ thing. Quickly, she outlined what she’d heard Doug Fountain and his secretary discussing.

Josie sank to the visitor’s chair on the far side of Marilyn’s desk, laughing. Children as a temporary inconvenience? I must tell Ron that the next time he says we should wait another year until the hardware store is more stable.

Sobering, she added, We’re talking money here, Marilyn, and you know him well enough to call him ‘darling’?

I don’t know him at all, though he wants me—or someone—to play the part of his fiancée. I’m not really sure on that. One minute he was offering a lucrative position to a Perfect Partners registrant, and the next he was talking about going out with me after lunch to locate an emerald and diamond ring. An engagement ring, I presume. But he also claims to be an old client of the company and I didn’t want to offend until I checked things out. Would you look him up, please?

I don’t need to. Though it was long before my time here, I know Edwin placed at least half a dozen women with the company over the past fifteen years or so. When Frank Fountain took over from his father as CEO, he came to Perfect Partners in search of well-educated women with executive potential. Three of those women are now in vice-presidential positions, each earning salaries over six figures. That should tell you something about the firm. It’s solid, and serious about equal opportunities. At least it has been since the younger Fountains began running things—first the older brother, then Doug. I imagine they get more than just a few government contracts on that basis alone.

Marilyn spread her hands, still coming up blank, and Josie said, JetCorp? Formerly known as Fountain Enterprises? The Vancouver Fountains Hotel not four blocks from here with that landmark revolving restaurant on top? The Fraser Fountains Hotel out near the airport? One of many worldwide? The Fountain Emporium department store chain, ditto? They’re but two aspects of a huge family-owned consortium. They’re into everything from agriculture to... to zippers!

Oh! Marilyn made the connection. She’d spent a weekend in the Naples Fountains Hotel, and, if she remembered rightly, a few days in the one in Tokyo, too. There was a Fountains Hotel in Boston, where she had lived before moving out here. They were top-class establishments where visiting royalty and other heads of state often stayed.

Josie looked sly and suggested hopefully, You might need me to come along to take notes or something. While the company might be old and stable, Doug Fountain, by all reports, is anything but. He’s gorgeous, could have his pick of any eligible women and quite a few who might be considered ineligible. He leaves broken hearts behind him like a dog shedding fleas.

Marilyn laughed. Rich, charming, handsome... and this guy wants a girlfriend so bad he grabs any old female voice who happens to answer the phone? This, she said, is going to prove to be a very interesting exercise.

Josie goggled. You’re not going to consider his offer, are you?

Marilyn rubbed her chin. Gee, I dunno. A rich guy, emeralds, diamonds? A couple of temporary inconveniences with a nanny to take care of the tough stuff? A honeymoon in Uncle Ed’s beach house? I mean, who could possibly resist?

Edwin’s cabin? Josie hooted with laughter, dropped the file folder she’d dug out of the cabinet and bent down to scoop the papers back in. The place reeks of mildew and mothballs, she said, standing up again, and you can’t take two steps without tripping over oars, broken deck chairs, engine parts, fishing gear and so many outdated life jackets you could resupply an entire third-world ferry fleet.

Ah, but obviously our Mr. Fountain doesn’t know that. Marilyn grinned again. Despite our supposedly having spent time together there, presumably in loving rapture, during which he asked me to marry him.

And you, presumably, agreed.

So it would appear he wants his grandfather to believe.

Why?

I haven’t the faintest idea. Except… Marilyn frowned. "When the old man first came in he said something about Doug’s three months being up.

Maybe he was given that long to produce a fiancée for himself?

Could be, Josie said. I know they’ve been a family firm for generations. Maybe, with Doug being the only one left, besides a no-account cousin of some sort, they’re putting pressure on him to fish or cut bait.

Marilyn laughed. If your guess is right, I think he’s quit cutting bait, and now he thinks he actually has a fish on the line. Okay, maybe I’ll let him play me for a while. I can always break free just when he gets me near the side of the boat.

Josie’s eyes danced. "What