Legally in Love Boxed Set 1

by Jennifer Griffith

  Which she didn’t.

  Seagram cleared his throat. “Neither of you is answering.” He slapped both his legs with his palms and stood up. “Well, then it seems we have come to a point where a decision must be made.”

  Josh almost opened his mouth to protest that it was too soon. They had some discussing to do first, but Seagram was off and running.

  “If you’re not in love and are intent on getting that annulment you’re planning on, I will not prosecute you for fraud—because you came to me first.”

  Josh exhaled in relief. He’d been sure that Seagram would send them to court, possibly on criminal charges. It looked like Morgan had seen this possibility, as she crumpled against the sofa and pushed the back of her hand against her mouth. Shah—she’d already been to jail once today and probably had no interest in going back.

  “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt—meaning I assume you’re being silent because you sincerely don’t know the answer to the question.” Seagram paced the length of the small room, wringing his hands. “I’m not a monster, but I don’t like it when someone abuses my good will. For that reason, I’ll give you a time limit—say, a week—to come up with a definite answer to my question. Once you’ve made your choice, though, I want you to see it through: meaning, you stop pretending one way or another; either be man and wife for real or else don’t spend another night under my roof, or my reputation, as liars.”

  The edict hit Josh with a thud. A week?

  “Oh, I’ll just be lenient. Make that until the end of the year.” Seagram swung around and looked them in the face. Normally that would sound like a long time, but this was Christmas Day. “I’ll need your answer by the morning of January first.”

  Morgan let out a little hiccupping sob and said, “Thank you, Mr. Seagram. You’re too good to us.”

  “Yes, I am.” He frowned. “Now, get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Josh palmed the car keys he’d intended to hand over, but Seagram eyed them. “Don’t think about making some kind of a scene of returning my gifts unless you’re sure, a hundred percent sure, you want to dissolve this family unit under the law and in the eyes of God.”

  Dissolve a family unit? Josh’s mouth went dry. He’d never considered what he and Morgan shared that way. He shot Morgan a look to see what her reaction was to this phrase, but she only looked exhausted. He should take her home.

  “Thank you, Mr. Seagram. So much.” She went to Seagram and gave him a hug. Josh heard her whisper in a tiny, tired voice, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too,” Seagram whispered back.

  Well, that made three of them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Morgan chewed her thumbnail as Josh drove her toward home. “Thanks. I couldn’t speak.” The anger at him from earlier had drained, along with all her other emotional energy. Today had taken a serious toll on her. A Christmas to remember. She sighed.

  “That’s okay.” He seemed more somber than even before. She wanted to rest a hand on his arm to reassure him that she wouldn’t let him be prosecuted, she’d do whatever it took, but she didn’t dare, not after his deafening silence at the question of whether he loved her. Couldn’t he have even said sure, maybe a little and let her exhale?

  But he hadn’t. “I guess you can drop me off somewhere and then you can go wherever Brielle is.” Please say she’s not at our house. There she went, thinking of it as their own house together, which it wasn’t, and may not be after another week unless she could help him see the light about her. What good would it do now to tell him how she really felt? Maybe some, so maybe she would—after she found out where Brielle was staying.

  “She went to Claire’s.”

  “Oh.” Morgan had full recollection of Claire. “Claire. With the fangs.”

  “That’s the one.”

  Wonderful. Morgan’s stomach growled audibly. She hadn’t eaten in so long that starvation sapped her energy and ability to deal with everything that had been hitting her in wave after wave.

  “You need food.”

  “Everything’s closed. It’s Christmas.”

  “Not everything. Didn’t you ever watch that movie about the BB gun? You’ll shoot your eye out, kid? If so, then you know we can get a nice dinner of Chinese food even today.”

  It was too thoughtful, and she pulled a smile as he pulled around a corner and headed into Starry Point’s business district to the Golden Dragon Palace, where they were playing “Here Comes Santa Claus” on a loop the entire time she ate her crispy fried duck.

  “This is so great. Thanks for dinner.”

  “I guess this is our first date.”

  “Oh, is that what this is?” Morgan asked, lifting her stir-fried button mushrooms with chopsticks.

  “It has to be.” Josh shrugged. “You heard the man. We have one week to experience a whirlwind courtship and decide whether we are going to stay in the mansion or go to jail.”

  “He said he wouldn’t send us to jail.”

  “We didn’t get it in writing.”

  “Oh.” Morgan’s appetite vanished as her blood drained to her feet.

  “Oh, I’m not saying he will prosecute. But I think the only reason he let us off so easily is he held out hope.”

  “What about you, Josh?” Morgan ratcheted up her courage. “Do you have any hope?” Morgan couldn’t believe the question had escaped her mouth, even though it had been poised there in some form or other for the past several weeks, if not months. “I mean, uh—” She started to backtrack. “I mean, you’re saying we should try?”

  “Well, I’m saying dating you is better than jail and a criminal record for fraud.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m sure you feel the same about me.”

  He had no idea how she felt about him—mostly because she’d never done a blooming thing to let him know. Sure, she’d kissed him, but guys could detach physical affection and deeper emotion more easily than women could, or at least more easily than Morgan could.

  “Let’s just say I’m game. Let’s give this a whirl.” She twirled her chopsticks to inject fun, but it felt hollow. Then the brick wall loomed between them again, and Morgan had to ask. “But what about Brielle? She’s here. You’re here. There’s no way you can just, you know—”

  “Brielle is booked for the week, until New Year’s Eve, actually. She’s part of Claire’s wedding party, and she won’t be a factor.”

  What? Not even a factor? “Uh, I don’t know if I can believe that. Of course she’ll be a factor.”

  Josh was quiet for a moment, and finally he said, “I’ll do everything I can to keep her from being a factor, Morgan. There’s a lot on the line—for all of us.”

  That was for sure. “And what am I supposed to do?”

  “You’re supposed to ask me to call the water treatment plant and get the week off, and then I’ll tell you it’s not a problem because someone else claimed all the shifts to get holiday pay of overtime, so I’m scheduled off from now until New Year’s.”

  “Really?” This news made Morgan brighten for the first time in hours. “Well, what do you want to do?”

  “Sky dive.”

  “No.”

  “Water ski?”

  “In this weather? Where? Ensenada? I hear Mexico isn’t very safe right now.” Morgan could just picture the drug cartels kidnapping them both and leaving them in a Mexican prison for no reason other than Josh was the son of a millionaire and demanding ransom. Bronco might pay for mine and not Josh’s. Ha. “If you could have your heart’s desire, how would you spend five free days?” Morgan knew how she’d spend hers: stretched out on the sofa, watching a few movies, ordering take-out, reading a book she chose herself, going for a few walks on the beach with someone who could make good conversation.

  Josh rubbed his chin. He’d cleared his whole plate of General Tso’s Chicken. “My heart’s desire, huh?” He pulled a little smile. “Much as I like the idea of Ensenada with you, you�
��re probably right.”

  He liked the idea of Ensenada with her. That was a good sign.

  “So?”

  “So, I’m afraid I’ll sound boring.” He opened his fortune cookie but didn’t read the paper, just crumpled it onto his plate.

  “Say it anyway. Honestly, I swear I won’t think anything sounds boring. I’m too exhausted from the stress of finals and school and getting the house ready for those cameras and—” She’d better not say wondering whether Josh would finally take her as his wife.

  “That’s exactly where I’m at. My heart of hearts needs a complete veg out.”

  “Oh, not like that awful diner that tried to beat me into beet borscht.”

  “Oh, no. No, not at all. I mean like become a vegetable, a couch potato. Although, is a potato a vegetable at all? Or is it a starch?”

  “Root vegetable.” She knew that one. “And nothing sounds better to me. We could, say, get a really nice vacation home— hey, we happen to have one— with a lovely housekeeper— got one of those, too— and a stocked pantry— check, check, check— and just sit by the fire, watch some movies…talk…” Was she being too forward by saying the talk part when she knew she meant make out on the couch?

  Josh apparently didn’t think so. “I’d like to talk. Maybe we could hit the beach. You could show me about the agates.”

  His mention of the beach reminded her: this was a special week of the year on the Oregon coast. “Winter is the best time to find agates,” she said absently while searching her mind for whether or not she’d seen a pair of binoculars somewhere in Siggy’s Campus House.

  Yeah, this might end up working out just fine.

  ∞∞∞

  “What I can’t believe is that they didn’t impound my car.” Morgan forged ahead of him on the trail, and Josh got a full view of her rear view as they went. It made his backpack a little lighter but not much.

  “What I can’t believe is that you’re asking me to hike up this steep outcropping when you promised me a week of doing absolutely nothing. Bait and switch, girl!” To be fair, she’d let him sprawl on the sofa watching cop dramas for the past twenty-four hours, bringing him little snacks and playing with his hair. He’d almost kissed her once, but he didn’t want to let things get murky. He had an important decision to make and he didn’t want to get kiss-drunk. Morgan’s kisses weren’t just intoxicating, they were inebriating. “What’s in this thing, anyway? An anvil?”

  “Two. But I’m sure you’re manly enough for it. I’ve seen your triceps and your pectorals.”

  “You have?” She had? “When?”

  Morgan laughed—and it shocked Josh, because it was that high, lilting flirt-laugh he’d heard once or twice before, but never for something he’d said. It penetrated him. He’d have to see if he could elicit it again.

  “If you don’t remember, then I’m not telling.”

  He reached out and smacked the back of her leg. “When have you ever seen me with my shirt off?”

  “I have photo-documented evidence of them—right over our bed.”

  Then he remembered the whole swimsuit photo shoot. She called it our bed.

  “And there was that other time.”

  “What other time?” Had she been spying on him?

  “Uh, the closet?”

  Oh. The closet. That first morning they slept at Seagram’s, when he’d caught her in just her towel, back when he’d been willing to flirt with her, thinking no harm could come of it, and he’d given her the eye while he took his time flexing as he put on his shirt. He was such a dork.

  But she’d noticed. Heh-heh. And remembered. So it’d worked. Yeah, he was a dork. A dork who had a ruby ring in his pocket, still burning a circle in the skin of his hip. She’d given it back when she thought it meant nothing, he understood, but it had pained him more than he wanted to admit even to himself. Every morning he slipped it into his jeans pocket for some unknown reason. For a second, he’d considered arguing with her when she’d returned the necklace and earrings—those weren’t part of a sham; they were a gift freely given for all he’d put her through the past few months, and for how good of a sport she’d been through it all. But he hadn’t had the heart to delineate the two gifts so starkly at the time, and now, a few days had gone by. Fun days, but they’d stretched long as the hours had been filled with random conversations about childhood and favorite foods and dream vacations and arguing about whether the fifth or the seventh Star Wars movie was better. Morgan Elise Clark Hyatt was a Star Wars junkie. Who’d have guessed?

  And they shared a birthday—in about a week. She’d probably bake him a cake, but he’d have to think of something big to do for her in return. Would they be together to celebrate it?

  “Okay, so you’re right. I’m manly enough for two anvils.” Luckily, they reached the summit she was aiming for just then, before he started really huffing and puffing. He set down the bag, right on his toe. “Ow.”

  “Oh, are you okay?” Instantly she swung around to check on him, concern in her eyes. Those blue eyes. They got him every time. Dang.

  “Fine. I’ll be fine.” He did a fake manly shoulder straightening. “But I’m going to need sustenance. Is there food in here?” He started zipping open the bag. He’d been the recipient of Morgan’s planned outings before.

  “Yes, but we need to catch the sight before the sun sets.” Morgan scooted him away from the bag with a swing of her hip. It bumped his shoulder, and he toppled into sitting position. “Here they are.” She produced a pair of binoculars. “For whale watching. I haven’t done this since I was a kid—my mom used to bring us out here sometimes, and I’d always argue with Tory about which of us saw more mama whales and which saw more baby whales. Now I know neither of us did—at least not in the December watch.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the mamas go to the Gulf of California to give birth in the warm waters. The whales going by are pregnant mother whales and, er, non-pregnant male whales.”

  She was so cute sometimes. It seemed like the very word pregnant made her blush. Some people could make the whole idea of pregnancy sound clinical; others made it sound coarse or undesirable; Morgan somehow made it seem holy.

  There he went again with his angel imagery for her. Morgan wasn’t an angel. She was a human, definitely. She had her faults and weaknesses. But she was probably the closest thing he’d met to an angel in this life.

  The question was, did he want an angel? Or did he want a girl on fire? Not to say Brielle was some kind of devil—she wasn’t, by any means, but she had a flame of serious intensity, one that could burn the unsuspecting moth’s wings. He brushed Brielle from his mind. He’d promised to not let her be a factor, as if that were possible, but he at least would try.

  He helped Morgan spread out a blanket and then he sat beside her, when he noticed she was shivering. He unzipped his jacket and stretched it around her shoulders in hopes of warming her. “Oh! Look!” She’d been adjusting the binoculars, aiming them out at the water. Now, with them still on the strap around her neck, she held them out for him to look through. “Can you see them?”

  Josh leaned over to peer through the lenses. Her hair was sweet in his nostrils, the vanilla mint of the white Tic Tacs again. “Uh, I don’t—oh! Wow. Yeah, I see them!” There, some distance off, he could see the dark skiffs of their backs just above the water’s surface. One, two, five, nine. “There are dozens.”

  Morgan’s voice sounded happy. “Every year during this week, thousands migrate past here. We caught them just right. And the water is calm, so they’re easy to spot. It’s the perfect day.”

  It did kind of feel like the perfect day. No work. It was unseasonably warm. He had a pretty girl with great-smelling hair at his side, the sun was shining, and he was watching whales. How many guys out there could say they were having as good a day as that?

  Josh gave her back the binoculars so she could look, too. “That’s amazing. Thanks for showing me this. I’ve never seen the
m before.”

  “Never?”

  “My mom did blackberry picking, but not whale-watching. We were in Portland, so it’s farther inland.”

  Morgan offered him the binoculars. “Then you should look again. It’s something to let seep into your soul.” Her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. For a long moment he stared at it, letting her smile seep into his soul. It felt good.

  ∞∞∞

  On the drive back, Morgan knew she had to bring up a topic with Josh, to thank him for something. It was going to be a little rocky, getting it to come out right, if at all, but she wanted him to know how much she appreciated something.

  “Josh?” Her voice might have trembled. “I have to thank you.”

  “For being manly and carrying the anvils? Sure. Anytime, Morgan. I’m your circus strong man.”

  “Yes, you are.” She pictured him in one of those wrestling onesies with a handlebar mustache and one of her stupid-laughs escaped, the high-pitched kind that made her embarrassed.

  He reached over and put a hand on her leg, a smile in his eyes. It was a good thing he hadn’t smiled with his teeth, too, because they were her weakness. She had to keep focused—and keep him focused.

  “Actually, I wanted to thank you for being a gentleman, and for respecting me enough to let us figure out the answer to Seagram’s question a real way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, a lot of people say the only way to find out if you love someone is to sleep with them. And when Seagram asked his pointed question the other day, my mind jumped to that immediately.”

  “It did?” Josh simultaneously gulped and brightened, shooting her a look she couldn’t misread. He soon collected himself again, though. “Right. I mean, that’s the way people think these days.”

  “And since we’re technically married, it would probably be a logical thing.”

  “It would.” He agreed almost too readily.

  But Morgan wasn’t done. “I guess I appreciate your willingness to get to know me—the real me—before insisting on the other way of, you know, getting closer.”