Harlequin Desire February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: The King Next DoorMarriage With BenefitsA Real Cowboy (Kings of California)

by Maureen Child

  Bottle in hand, Lucas took the opposite chair and swung one leg over the arm. “Long day.”

  Matthew swallowed. “Long life. Gets longer every day.”

  “That’s depressing.” His life got better every day, and considering the disaster it had been, that was saying something. Lucas hesitated but plunged ahead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. But I have to.” He sighed. “First Amber. Now Grandpa. I’m done. It’s the last straw. I can’t take it anymore.”

  That sounded serious. Suicidal even. Lucas looked at his normally solid and secure brother. “Do you need a vacation?”

  “Yeah.” Matthew laughed sarcastically. “From myself. Problem is they don’t offer that with an all-inclusive resort package. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get me back on track, but whatever it is, it’s not here.”

  “Where is it?”

  Shrugging, Matthew drained his beer in record time. “I have no idea. But I have to look for it. So I’m leaving. Not just for a few days. Permanently.”

  “Permanently?” Lucas shook his head. Matthew was a Wheeler. Wheelers didn’t take off and let the chips fall. Everything Lucas knew about being a Wheeler he’d learned from watching his brother succeed at whatever he attempted. Obviously Matthew was overtired. “You can’t leave. Take some time away. You’ve been working too much, which is my fault. Let me handle clients for a week or two. Backpack through the Himalayas or drink margaritas in Belize. But you have to come back.”

  “No, I don’t. I can’t.” Stubborn to the core. That was one Wheeler trait they shared.

  “Wheeler Family Partners isn’t a one-man show. We just lost Grandpa. Dad’s been taking a backseat for a couple of years, and now he’s going to be the executor for Grandpa’s estate. We’re it.”

  And Matthew was more it than Lucas-the-gray-sheep could ever be.

  Matthew’s sharp gaze roved over Lucas in assessment. “You can do it without me. You’ve changed in the past year. Maybe Lana snapped some sense into you, or maybe it started happening long before and I didn’t see it. Regardless, you’ve turned into me.”

  “Turned into you? What does that mean?”

  “Responsible. Married. Committed. I always thought I’d be the one to settle down, have a family. Raise the next generation of Wheelers to carry on WFP. But lo and behold, it’s not going to be me. It’s going to be you.”

  The beer bottle slipped out of Lucas’s hand and broke in two against the concrete patterned patio. The sharp yeasty scent of the last third of a beer split the air. “What are you talking about? I’m not settling down. There’s no family in my future.”

  “Right.” His brother snorted. “If Cia’s not pregnant within a month, I’ll fall over in a dead shock.”

  Oh, man. They’d done a spectacular job of fooling everyone into believing this was the real thing, and now Matthew felt safe leaving the firm in Lucas’s hands. “Uh, we’re being careful. She’s not interested in having children.”

  “Yeah, well, accidents happen. Especially as many times as I’d bet you’re doing it. You’re not quite as subtle as you must think when you dash off during an event and sneak back in later, without giving Cia a chance to comb her hair. You two are so smoking hot for each other, I can’t believe you haven’t set something on fire.”

  So now he was supposed to apologize for enjoying sex with his wife? “Sorry if that bothers you,” Lucas retorted. “We have a normal, healthy relationship. What’s the problem?”

  Matthew raised his brows. “No problem. Why so defensive? I’m pointing out that you landed on your feet. That’s great. I’m happy for you. I admit, I thought you rushed into this marriage because of Lana or, at the very least, because you’d screwed up and gotten a one-night stand pregnant. Clearly, I was wrong. Cia’s good for you. You obviously love each other very much.”

  He and Cia surely deserved Oscars if Matthew, who missed nothing, believed that. “Thanks.”

  “Although,” Matthew continued in his big-brother tone, “you probably should have thought twice about marrying someone who doesn’t want kids. Isn’t family important to you?”

  If the marriage had been intended to last, he definitely would have thought more about it back on that terrace. Now Matthew’s words crowded his mind, shoving everything else out. “Isn’t it important to you? You’re the one talking about abandoning everyone.”

  “Only because you can take my place. You can be me and I can be you. I’ll go find fun and meaningless experiences, without worrying about anything other than myself.”

  “Hey now.” Was that how his brother saw him? “Lay off the cheap shots.”

  “Sorry.” Matthew gave him an assessing once-over. “Six months ago, you wouldn’t have blinked at such a comment. It’s an interesting transposition we have going on. You have no idea how hard it is for me to think about marrying again. Having a baby with someone who isn’t Amber. Something is busted inside, which can’t be repaired. Ever.”

  Quiet desperation filled Matthew’s voice, the kind Lucas would never have associated with his older brother, who had always looked out for him. Whom Lucas had always looked up to, ever since the first time Matthew had stood shoulder to shoulder with his little brother against bullies. As Matthew took full responsibility for a broken flowerpot because he hadn’t taught Lucas the proper way to hold a bat. As Matthew passed off the first client to his newly graduated brother and whispered the steps to Lucas behind the scenes.

  A long surge unsettled Lucas’s stomach. His brother had never been so open, so broken.

  Matthew needed him. The firm, his family, his heritage all needed him. Lucas had to step up and prove his brother’s faith in him wasn’t misplaced. To show everyone Lucas knew what it meant to be a Wheeler, once and for all.

  It would be hard, and parts of it would suck. But he had to.

  Of course, he lacked a wife who wanted all the ties of a permanent marriage or who looked forward to filling a nursery with blankets and diapers. Where in the world would he find someone he liked as much as Cia, who excited him like she did even when they were nowhere near a bed? It would take a miracle to tick off all the points on his future-wife mental checklist. A miracle to find a wife as good as Cia.

  Matthew clamped his mouth into a thin line and shifted his attention as Cia’s hand slid across Lucas’s shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I just wanted to check on you. Doing okay?”

  Concern carved a furrow between her brows, and he didn’t like being the cause of that line. “Fine, darlin’. Thanks.”

  “Okay. I’m going to sit with your mom for a little while longer. She’s pretty upset.” She smiled and bent to kiss the top of his head, as if they were a real married couple in the middle of for better or worse.

  His vision tunneled as future and present collided, and a radical idea popped fully formed into his head. An idea as provocative and intriguing as it was dangerous. One that would pose the greatest challenge thus far in his relationship with Cia.

  What if they didn’t get divorced?

  Ten

  A noise woke Cia in the middle of the night. No, not a noise, but a sixth sense of the atmosphere changing. Lucas. He’d finally pried himself loose from his laptop and paperwork. His study might be in the same house, but it might as well have been in Timbuktu for all she’d seen of him lately.

  She glanced at the clock—1:00 a.m.—as he slid into bed and gathered her up against his warm, scrumptious body, spooning them together.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “Time got away from me.”

  “It’s okay. You’re earlier than last night.” And the night before that and the night before that. In the weeks since his grandfather’s death and Matthew’s disappearance, he’d been tense and preoccupied, but closemouthed about it other t
han to say he’d been working a lot.

  She rolled in his arms and glued her body to his, silently offering whatever he wanted to take, because he’d done the same when she’d needed it. Sometimes he held her close and dropped into a dead sleep. Sometimes he was keyed up and wanted to talk. Sometimes he watched TV, which she always left on for him despite her hatred of the pulsing lights.

  Tonight, he flipped off the TV and covered her mouth in a searing kiss. His hands skimmed down her back to cup her bottom, sliding into the places craving his careful attention.

  Oh, yes. Her favorite of the late-night options—slow, achingly sensual and delicious. The kind of night where they whispered to each other in the dark and pleasured by touch, lost inside a world where nothing else existed.

  In the dark, she didn’t have to worry about what hidden depths of the heart might spring into her eyes. No agonizing over whether something similar crept through his eyes, as well. Or didn’t. It was better to leave certain aspects of their relationship unexamined.

  Of course, ignoring the facts didn’t magically rearrange them into a new version of truth.

  The truth was still the truth.

  This was more than just sex.

  Sex could be fun, but it didn’t erase the significance of doing it with Lucas. Not some random, fun guy. Lucas, who got out of the way and let her make her own choices. Lucas, who’d proven over and over he was more than enough man to handle whatever she threw at him.

  When the earth stopped quaking, Lucas bound her to him in a tight tangle of limbs. He murmured, “Mi amante,” and fell asleep with his lips against her temple.

  When had he managed to squeeze in a Spanish lesson? His layers were endless and each one weighed a little more, sinking a little deeper into her soul.

  This thing with Lucas was spiraling out of control. They were still getting a divorce, and all this significance—and how much she wanted it—freaked her out. It would be smart to back off now, so it wouldn’t be so hard later.

  In the morning, she woke sinfully late, still nestled in Lucas’s arms for the first time in a long time, and she didn’t hesitate to test how heavily he slept. The exact opposite of backing off. Stupid was her middle name lately.

  “Mmm. Darlin’, that is indeed a nice way to wake up,” he murmured, after she’d sated them both.

  “Stay in bed tomorrow morning, and you might get a repeat.” She flipped on the TV and settled in to watch the weather while contemplating breakfast. “Can you eat or are you going to go drown yourself in listings right away?”

  “I’m taking a little personal time this morning. I deserve it, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. Does that mean I’m breakfast?”

  He laughed. “Yep. Then I want to take you somewhere.”

  But he wouldn’t tell her where until after they’d eaten, showered and dressed, and he’d driven to a run-down building miles off the freeway in an older part of town full of senior centers and assisted-living facilities.

  “This just came up for sale,” he told her as he helped her out of the car and led her to the edge of the parking lot. “It’s an old hotel.”

  She glanced at him and back at the building. “I’m sorry. I’m not following why we’re here or what the implication of this is.”

  “For the shelter,” Lucas said quietly. “It can be retrofitted, and I checked on the zoning. No problems.”

  “The shelter.” It took another thirty seconds for his meaning to sink in. “You mean my shelter? I’m planning to have it built.”

  “I know. This is another option. A less expensive option. Thirty-five percent down and I know a few people we can talk to about the financing.”

  “Financing?” If he’d started speaking Swahili, she’d have been equally as challenged to keep up. “I’m not getting a loan. That’s the whole point of accessing my trust fund, so I can pay cash and the shelter will never be threatened with closure. We went over this. Without the trust money, I don’t have thirty-five percent, let alone enough to purchase.”

  He clasped her hand with painstaking care. “I’ll give you the money for the down payment.”

  The air grew heavy and ominous, tightening her chest. Their agreement specifically called for their assets to remain separate, and that might prove to be a touchier subject than sex. “You didn’t get a terminal cancer diagnosis or something, did you? What’s this all about?”

  “You inspire me. Your commitment to victims of abuse is amazing. If I help you do this, you could start the shelter now instead of waiting until you get your money when the divorce is final. Save a few more women in the meantime.”

  “Oh, Lucas.”

  And that was it. Her heart did a pirouette and splattered somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach.

  She rushed on, determined not to dwell on how many king’s horses and how many king’s men it would take to put everything back together again. “I appreciate what you’re saying—I really do. But I can’t get a loan, not for the kind of money we’re talking about. I told you, Courtney and I tried. Our business plan wasn’t viable, and venture capitalists want profits. Asking you to marry me was the absolute last resort, but it turned out for the best. If we have a loan, there’s always a possibility of foreclosure if donations dry up, and I can’t have that hanging over our heads.”

  No bank would ever own her shelter. Nothing would have the power to rip it from her fingers. It was far, far better to do it all on her own and never depend on anyone else. Much less painful that way.

  “Okay. So, no loan.” A strange light appeared in his eyes. “At least think about the possibility of this place. The owner is motivated to sell. Adding in the renovations, the purchase price is around a third of the cost to build. You could save millions.”

  Yes, she could. The savings could be rolled forward into operating costs, and it would be years and years before she needed to worry about additional funds beyond the trust money. The idea had merit. She could run the shelter without donations, a huge plus in her mind.

  Maybe Lucas could talk the owner into waiting to sell until the divorce came through and she had access to the trust.

  She surveyed the site again. The hotel was tucked away in a heavily treed area, off the beaten path. Bad for a hotel and good for a shelter the victims didn’t want their abusers to find. “I do like the location. It’s important for women who’ve taken the step to leave their abusers to feel safe. An out-of-the-way place is ideal. Tell me more about your thoughts.”

  Lucas started talking, his voice wandering along her spine, the same way his hands did when he reached for her at night. He threw around real estate terms and an impressive amount of research. When he was all professional and authoritative about his area of expertise, it pulled at her and bobbled her focus, which wasn’t so sharp right now anyway.

  Her brain was too busy arguing with her heart about whether she’d actually been stupid enough to fall for her all-too-real husband.

  No question about it. She’d put herself in exactly the position she’d sworn never to be in again—reliant on a man to make her complete and happy. All her internal assurances to the contrary and all the pretending had been lies.

  This was where brainless had gotten her: harboring impossible feelings for Lucas.

  It hardly mattered if Lucas freed her to jump in and enjoy life alongside him. It hardly mattered if she’d accidentally married a man who understood her and everything she was about. It hardly mattered if she wished her soul had room for a mate and that such fairy tales existed.

  They didn’t.

  Life didn’t allow for such simplicity. Anything she valued was subject to being taken away, and the tighter she held on, the greater the hurt when it was gone. The only way to stay whole was to beat fate to the punch by getting rid of it first.

  She’d married Lucas Whe
eler because he wasn’t capable of more than short-term. She could trust him to keep his word and grant her a divorce, the sole outcome she could accept.

  They had a deal, not a future.

  * * *

  Midway through an email, Lucas realized it had been four days since he’d spent time with his wife outside of bed. Their time together in bed had been less than leisurely and far from ideal. It was criminal.

  He picked up the phone. “Helena. Can you reschedule everything after five today?”

  “I can,” she said. “But your five-thirty is with Mr. Moore and it’s the only day this week he can meet. The counteroffer was a mess, remember?”

  He remembered. Once upon a time, he would have passed it off to Matthew and dashed for the door. The deficiency created by his brother’s vanishing act multiplied every day, demanding one hundred percent of his energy and motivation, leaving none for Cia.

  He missed her. “Reschedule everything else, then. Thanks—you’re the best.”

  If he put aside a potential new client’s proposal, skipped lunch and called in a couple of favors, he’d have an infallible amended contract ready to go by five-thirty and a happy Moore out the door by six. Dinner with Cia by seven.

  The challenge got his blood pumping. The tightrope grew thinner and the balancing act more delicate, but without his brother to fall back on, new strengths appeared daily.

  He was thriving, like Matthew had predicted, because every night Lucas went to bed with the ultimate example of sacrifice and commitment. He and Cia were partners. How could he look in the mirror if he didn’t step up?

  He texted Cia with the dinner invitation, and her response put a smile on his face for the rest of the day: It’s a date.

  A date with his wife. The wife he secretly contemplated keeping. Forever didn’t fill him with dread or have him looking for the exit. Yet. He’d been nursing the idea in the back of his mind, weighing it out. Testing it for feasibility. Working the angles. If he didn’t file for divorce, he’d have to give up Manzanares because he hadn’t fulfilled his end of the bargain.