The Stand-In Read Online Free PDF Page A

to show up, and I’ll play along.” He leaned toward her and winked. “I love dress fittings.”
    She frowned, ignoring his joke. “It’s not just a matter of playing along. I do a lot of research on my clients and gather background information. I can’t be worried you won’t go along with the story.”
    Margie beamed. “Did I mention Winn is an actress? She’s so thorough. She should be on Broadway.”
    Winn offered her boss a tight smile and looked back at him. “If you’re pretending to be my date for these events, you need to be on the same page as me.”
    More time with the blonde. Awesome. “That can be arranged. Teach me everything you know.”
    Margie brought her manicured hands together in a dainty clap. “Then it’s settled. I can’t wait to read your article, Patrick.”
    He chuckled halfheartedly. Right. Jake wanted him to dig up the dirt on her agency and Margie threatened to sue him if he did.
    Some article this would be.
    * * * *
    Patrick followed Winn out of the office building and onto the sidewalk. She ignored him as she tried to hail a cab. In fact, she’d ignored him on the entire elevator ride down from Margie’s floor.
    The stand-in was not amused by his presence.
    When the cabs whizzed by her, careening down busy Yonge Street, he stepped forward and hailed one for her. The vehicle stopped immediately and he opened the back door for her, smiling. She frowned, muttering her thanks. As she slid into the backseat, her skirt rode up and he got another look at her ample thigh.
    Damn. Margie Kent might have top model appeal, but he’d never really appreciated skinny girls. He liked them lush and full and round, just like this Winn. She was the sort of woman his dad would call a “cracker.”
    Rolling his eyes, dismissing thoughts of his father, he got in and sat next to her.
    She turned her blue high beams on him. “Are we starting this shadowing thing now?”
    “No time like the present. So, where to?”
    “Well, I have a dress fitting at Spadina and Bloor,” she mumbled, fumbling in her purse. She handed a scrap of paper with an address to the cabbie and turned back to him. “I suppose you can come.”
    “I think you’re stuck with me, Winn. You heard Margie. I get to be the peanut butter to your bread for the next few weeks.” He shifted in his seat. Why did that image give him an erection? He must be hungry. After the dress fitting, he’d go to lunch and try to forget the travesty that was his career. And then he’d go home and drink himself to death. “It’ll be fun.”
    “I’m not so sure about that. Like I said, I always work alone.”
    “But you attend weddings all the time. Don’t you ever bring an escort?”
    “Nope. I have the option, but you have to understand, for me this is an acting job. I have to be ‘on’ all the time. I can’t spend my time chasing my date, wondering if he’s drinking too much or feeling neglected. It’s my job to make the bride feel like a princess on her special day.”
    Whoa. There was no way he missed the tone in her voice when she said “princess.” He peered at her. She looked like any professional woman on the job. Pencil skirt. Cotton blouse, buttoned-up appropriately. Heels, not too high. However, her pleasant face held just a smidgeon of tightness. Right there, around her eyes. He couldn’t miss it.
    Somewhere inside this woman hid a story. In spite of Margie Kent’s threats, he needed to find it. “You must love weddings.”
    She stared at the back of the cabbie’s head. “There’s nothing like a good wedding.”
    He had to hide his own smile as she evaded his question like a consummate liar. Wait until he talked to Jake. There was definitely more happening here than women being paid to act as bridesmaids. He had a feeling Winn Busby sat at the core of a scintillating story, one which, if handled correctly, might hurtle him back into the big leagues. Okay, perhaps not in the political arena, but he could make the