Paper Marriage Proposition

by Red Garnier

  She clung to his gaze, drowning, seeing no land in the distance. Nothing but the determined man before her.

  “What kind of understanding,” she asked in an odd, cragged whisper. “I don’t think I understand.”

  But her nipples were hard as diamonds under her jacket, begging for…something. A touch; his touch.

  His expression distinctly famished, he reached up and hypnotically traced her lips with his middle finger. “I wonder…” His voice was terse and textured, and he watched her with eyes that probed into the darkest, loneliest part of her. “If you’d like to kiss me again, slowly this time. And in bed.”

  Oh, God.

  Oh, my God.

  She could see by those enlarged pupils he was visualizing this!

  He curled a finger under her chin. “Are you interested? Beth?”

  A shudder rippled through her. The eyes. So fierce and lonely and bright.

  A needle of an image stabbed into her mind, this virile beauty, hot and hard and pushing into her, and she…oh, God, she’d die.

  She’d felt the powerful, restrained force in his body when she’d kissed him; all of it, it seemed, directed at keeping from kissing her back. How would it feel to have Landon Gage unleash all that suppressed strength into her? She’d crack. She’d detonate.

  She’d say no. She had to.

  No was a small, hard word, and small people learned to say it the hard way. Beth had learned six years ago that the hard little word no would have meant the difference between happiness and despair, freedom and entrapment.

  Now it had to be, couldn’t be anything other than no.

  What if he insisted?

  What if he didn’t?

  “I think we should really stick to the original plan.”

  But her quiet denial, although logical and truthful, planted a small, potent little ache inside her.

  His nostrils flared. He stepped back with a curt nod, and Bethany realized that the brief, tight look that passed over his face was hunger. “Good to know.”

  Within seconds he issued explicit orders to his chauffeur, and then he stormed back into the building—leaving Bethany clutching the little black book with one hand, and Landon Gage’s corporate credit card with the other.

  Three

  “I can now clearly see why you haven’t had a woman in ages, Lan. Maybe Julian here could teach you a thing or two about subtlety.”

  Landon was hunched over the boardroom table the next morning with the newest copy of the San Antonio Daily spread out over the surface. Ignoring Garrett, he continued circling. He did this every day. He did it before they went to print. He did it afterward. Every single day.

  “I don’t want a woman.” Landon flipped to the next section. His red pen streaked across the sports header. “Twenty-four mistakes, Garrett, and counting. I suggest you wipe that grin off your face.”

  “So you just want her, then? Because this prenup—” Garrett waved the papers in the air “—is a bit out of the norm. Jules, if you may offer an opinion on our brother’s state of mind—what do you think of the prenup? It boggles the mind that a woman would sign that thing.”

  In a characteristically lazy move, Julian snatched up the proffered document. He propped a shoulder against the wall and skimmed through the terms. He said, in his usual flat tones, “Twisted and somewhat distrustful. Good, Landon. Very you.”

  “Thank you, Jules. This is a joining of two enemies after all.”

  Garrett shook his head, then navigated to the chrome bar and refilled his coffee. “You’re setting yourself up for a divorce from the start, brother.”

  Landon’s pen unerringly circled. A date wrong. A period missing. “Yes, well, this time both she and I will know it’s coming.”

  “You forget I was there last night, Lan, and in case you didn’t notice, you had her pinned to the wall.”

  Landon froze. He scowled down at the page, pen in midair.

  An image of Beth pinned to the wall, vulnerable with her lips wet, her chest heaving against his, made Landon’s chest cramp. God, he hated weakness. He took advantage of it in others and loathed it in himself. He dropped the pen, raked a hand through his hair, and blew out a breath, glowering at his nosy brother. “You know what the scorpion told the turtle when it stung its ass dead?”

  Garrett sipped his coffee. “Humor me.”

  “It’s in my nature.” Landon glared. “That’s what it said.”

  “And in English?”

  “In English, Garrett,” Julian interjected, “his enemy’s ex-partner is now going to be Landon’s wife, and he doesn’t trust her.”

  Garrett blinked, shocked. He set the coffee down with a thump. “You were the turtle in that story?”

  “Here we go, Mr. Gage.” His assistant, Donna, strode into the room with her arms full of old newspapers. Every piece written on Halifax, every page with Bethany on it. “Some of these date back several years.”

  Landon moved toward the pile Donna had just set atop the table and began spreading them out. “Unfortunately, we seem to have snitches,” he told his brothers.

  “Seriously?”

  “Beth possibly knows their names—she hinted as much. I want to see who’s been rallying for Halifax for some time.” He opened the top sample, skimming for mentions of Beth. He could do this on his computer, he knew. But this was the one thing where Landon was ridiculously old-fashioned—he loved the smell, the feel and the substance of paper.

  “Maybe it’s in the little book?” Garrett quipped.

  Landon cocked his brow at him. “And maybe Halifax is in fact an idiot? I’d have to be deranged to base my actions on the writings in a book.”

  “Why are you marrying her if not for the book?”

  Landon was not going to tell them. He continued to skim. “Perhaps I just want a war buddy.”

  Garrett let out a bark of laughter. He slapped his back. “Brother, you want another kind of buddy.”

  Landon opted for silence.

  “Whatever imbecile tracks his own dirt in a book deserves what’s coming to him,” Julian said in disgust.

  “They deserve Landon.”

  His brothers laughed, and Landon shoved a sheaf of clippings at each of them. “Either get back to work or make yourselves scarce.”

  Garrett settled down on a chair and, eyeing him through the top of the open newspaper, said, “Mom wants to know all about her, you know.”

  “I’m sure she got a full report from you, Garrett. Julian,” Landon said, knowing his younger brother’s verbiage was almost exclusively reserved for the women, “you talked to your friend in family law?”

  “He’ll be here tomorrow. He’s catching a red eye.”

  “Good. Garrett, you’re sending out men to cover the engagement party this evening?”

  “I got it.”

  Landon’s attention honed in on a heading. Halifax’s Wife Caught In Illicit Affair. A picture of Beth exiting the courtroom was followed by a long, detailed analysis of the court hearing. An awful possessiveness fisted him in its grip.

  Grimly, he surveyed her picture. Something in her eyes was like a plea, an innocence.

  She could be a liar, a trickster, a tease.

  And, damn it, Landon still wanted her.

  It was that complicated, and that simple.

  Last night, as he lay in bed, remembering her, he’d sought reasons for the lust raging through him and had found none. Except that her wild, reckless kiss had promised breath to a dead man.

  He was a man.

  She was a woman.

  He wanted her.

  He’d have her.

  If he had to pay her, if he had to wait, if he had to wrap Halifax by the feet and hang him upside down for Beth.

  He’d have her.

  All right, Beth, go get him.

  Her heart pounded frantically as she at last made it to the top floor of the San Antonio Daily. With a fortifying breath, Beth followed Landon’s laser-eyed assistant—the one who’d denied
her entrance to see him a number of times—to a formidable set of massive double doors.

  An unfamiliar sensation assailed her as the practical woman flung the doors open and led her inside. Landon, in a sharp suit and a killer crimson tie, came around the boardroom table to greet her. Her stomach twisted and turned as he approached. What was this? Anticipation, excitement, dread?

  Landon had been called many things she could remember, but the word gentle hadn’t been among them.

  “Beth,” he said.

  He stared directly at her as he strode over. Framed by spiky, dark lashes, his eyes gleamed as they raked her form. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe, he looked so sexy when he smiled at her.

  “Hi, Landon,” she said, shyly smiling back.

  His two lawyers rose to greet her, and Beth shook their outstretched hands. She’d wanted to look respectable today; she’d worn her hair back in a tidy chignon, a dark clean business suit, and a light sheen of makeup.

  She had never felt so self-conscious and wondered if he approved.

  Dismissing his assistant, Landon hauled out a chair for Beth and huskily said, “Sit.”

  She sat.

  She tugged her skirt down to her knees as the men settled around the table. One began distributing a thick file around. The prenup, she hoped. So they could get this circus started.

  “All right, ma’am, if you’ll kindly open the document in your hands. Mr. Gage has…”

  Landon’s sour-faced, white-haired lawyer trailed off in consternation when Beth flipped the document open to the last page and asked, “Do any of you have a pen?”

  Two pens appeared in her immediate line of vision.

  She took the blue one. Landon’s chair squeaked as he leaned back; he watched her with the intensity of a diving hawk. His brow creased in displeasure when she set pen to paper.

  “Read it, Beth,” he said.

  She glanced up at him. God, he was an extremely magnetic man. He even looked grander once one knew about his reputation, but that wasn’t what made her a little awestruck. It was the air of suppressed energy about him, his relaxed posture only a guise, for she could sense the latent tension in him, his hard-bitten strength. She’d tasted it in his lips.

  Those lips. Stubborn and closed like the man. She’d shivered all night pretending he’d but for a second, a millisecond, opened them and let her taste all that anger and strength he so tightly reined in.

  Aware of the heat crawling up her cheeks, she lowered her face, loathing to think he’d notice she was fantasizing about him by day.

  “I’m not after your money, Landon. I get nothing, you said that before. And I’m poor as a mouse. You can’t possibly take anything from me that Hector hasn’t yanked away already.”

  If he thought he could discourage her from her marriage plan, well, he didn’t know how stubborn she could be.

  Landon cocked his head, a panther pricked into curiosity. “Prenups are not only about money.”

  “Miss Lewis, if I may,” White Hair rushed in, face grim over the fact that Landon didn’t seem to be playing hardball enough to suit him. A formal clearing of his throat later, he folded a page. “On your wedding night you’re expected to deliver a little black book with contents of a personal nature regarding Dr. Hector Halifax. And as your new lawfully wedded husband, Mr. Gage agrees to provide for you in all the ways a real husband would as long as you cease any and all association with your ex until your partnership with Mr. Gage is terminated. Any infidelity on your part would result in both the termination of this agreement and your marriage.” The lawyer lifted his head to speak to her directly. “I’m afraid these terms are not negotiable.”

  Beth was so insulted that Landon Gage would believe the worst of her just like everyone else had, she didn’t move. Eyes narrowed, Landon surveyed her reaction.

  He gazed across the table at her with such a proprietary, blatantly sexual expression, the ring she’d just bought in his name and placed on her finger began to scorch.

  She held his gaze, her insides in turmoil. “I was faithful to Hector for as long as we were married. I’m not who they say I am.”

  It took him a moment to answer, and when he did, his voice could’ve melted the ground under her feet. “I don’t really care if you were faithful to Halifax, but I care that any woman with my name attached to hers is faithful to me.”

  Faithful to Landon Gage…

  Something effervescent slid through her veins, and an awful burn arrowed down her breasts to the warmed, aching place between her thighs. She felt branded, taken in a way that didn’t demand their clothes to be off, as Landon’s eyes sucked her into their depths and filled her body with a horrible ache.

  “This is a mock marriage, but I still can’t risk making any mistakes for my son. I’m not and won’t be seeing anyone, period.” Her eyes narrowed as another thought occurred to her. “What about you? Will you be making the same guarantees?”

  “Contrary to general beliefs, I’m not a womanizer.”

  “But it takes just one woman to turn your life upside down,” Beth countered.

  “I’m looking at her now.”

  His succinct words and their unmistakable meaning flooded her with mortification, but they didn’t seem to have the same effect on him. Landon was utterly still; unapologetic, patient, male.

  Bewildered, she pulled her attention back to the contract and inhaled once or twice, she couldn’t be sure. Her heart was still doing that flipping thing fish did when they were dying.

  She kept hearing two words the lawyer had mentioned: intimately acquainted. “Our arrangement is strictly a…partnership. Right?” she said.

  A tomb-like silence gripped the room.

  His lack of response made her edgy. She stole a peek at Landon, and the intensity in his stare made her close her legs tight under the table. Hunger glimmered in the depths of his pupils, wanting, desire. Deeper warmth flagged her cheeks, hot as flames. “What is it, exactly, that you’re demanding of me?”

  More silence. His face was as unreadable as a wall as he steepled his fingers before him. “All I demand, Beth, is your fidelity. If you want to sleep with someone—you’ll sleep with me.”

  Oh, God, when Landon spoke that last, her skin went hot. He made it sound like a promise, a decree.

  And though romance and sex were the last things on her mind right now, his ill-concealed interest stirred her interest and made her aware of how beautifully virile he was. His body had to be the most exquisite living sculpture she’d ever beheld. Landon filled the shoulders of his jacket, his broad, strong frame overpowering the chair. The air was so charged with his masculinity, Beth couldn’t help but remember she was female.

  They engaged in an unsettling staring contest. The silence was finally interrupted by the brown-haired lawyer with the glasses who jumped up to the podium, sounding a bit flustered. “Well, then. On a private addendum that is to remain under Mr. Gage’s supervision, we state that after gaining custody of your child, the marriage will proceed for a short time, until the waters calm down,” he argued, his tone softer than White Hair’s. “And when the moment comes to part ways, Mr. Gage expects you to grant him a fast, discreet divorce in exchange for a small settlement, which you and your son can use to begin a new life.”

  She couldn’t believe the discomfort of discussing this—her son, her economics, her future divorce—in a boardroom, and briefly she thought she’d rather her seat rear back and catapult her to the sky.

  For some reason, her body pulsed with Landon’s stares, with his nearness. Each quiver and tingle of awareness reminded her of every want and need and craving not appeased for years, for a lifetime.

  Stopping the lawyer in midsentence, she glared at the dark, still man across the table, and firmly whispered, “I don’t want your settlement. It’s you I want, you’re the only one who can hurt Hector.”

  He betrayed no reaction, except that, on the table, his fingers slowly curled into his palm.

  “Now, in
case any child results out of your union, Mr. Gage gets full custody,” the lawyer said.

  Shock swept through Beth. “There will not be a child.”

  Her reaction was so wild and instant, Landon threw his head back and gave a bark of laughter. The sound was such an unexpected rumble, striking such a discordant note with the rest of his composed self, it sent an uninvited jolt into her system. Outraged, she glowered. He really thought this funny?

  To risk a child for a little bit of sex with the man!

  “You’d take a child away from me?” Beth asked, disbelieving. “Is that any way to start a marriage? An association? A war team?”

  His eyes danced in what seemed like mirth. “The way I see it, Beth, we start with honesty, which is more than I can say for my last marriage.” He sobered almost instantly, and his shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I distrust everyone, please understand.”

  Her chest contracted. He could’ve reached inside her with those tanned, blunt hands and squeezed her heart.

  Beth understood too well.

  He’d lost one child, and he wouldn’t lose another.

  He’d been betrayed. Just like Beth had been betrayed.

  And when you stopped believing in people, deep down there would always be a part of you that you would never give, that nobody could ever again reach.

  Landon wouldn’t trust Beth—but he would help her. And how, she marveled, had she enlisted such a man’s aid? She knew a gift from the universe when she saw one.

  And there he was, sitting across the table—beautiful and ruthless. God help her.

  No, God help Hector Halifax when Landon Gage was through with him.

  The thought invigorated her, exhilarated her. It could’ve been foreplay for the way her body responded to the idea of her new husband stomping all over Hector for all the times he’d stomped on Beth.

  Relaxing in her seat, she confessed with a mischievous grin, “I’m still marrying you, Landon. Toss any more hoops you want me to jump through, but I’m still marrying you.”

  A flicker of admiration passed across his face. Then the awesome silver in his eyes turned molten, his jaw bunched tightly—and he appeared shockingly…eager. A strange gravity entered his voice. “How about you sign those papers now, Bethany?”