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An Act of Love

Page 7

by Marion Ekholm


  Marley snapped back to the present when Mrs. Emerson said, “Where are you taking us, dear?”

  “Mom said to come for supper. Would you rather go to the motel?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to freshen up first.”

  Marley drove into the motel parking lot and got the room key for the Emersons. Once they were settled, she turned to Brant, who had been shadowing her with his own luggage. “I have a room here. We can wait for them there. You may as well leave your bag there instead of in the car.”

  “Your father said I have a room here, too, or will I be staying with you?”

  All the annoyance she had managed to control suddenly erupted. “My father! Did he buy your plane ticket?”

  “Whoa. Why so hostile?”

  She glared at him. “Take a wild guess, Brant. I told you not to follow me here. How is my father involved?”

  “He made the arrangements. I paid for everything.”

  “Well, I’m not paying you back.”

  “Oh, yes you are, and for way more than the plane fare.” When she started to protest, he cut her off. “Wait. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

  The room was cool and dark with the shades drawn. Marley turned on a lamp and took the only chair. Brant deposited his bag near her luggage, then sprawled on the bed, feet crossed on top of the covers. This time he wore well-polished black lizard-skin cowboy boots. She wondered if he had one of his cowboy hats stuffed in his suitcase. At least his present outfit wouldn’t embarrass her, now that he looked more like his poster.

  Restless and agitated, Marley swatted his boots. He sat up and threw his legs over the side. Leaning toward her, he held out his hand. “Mind if I see our engagement ring again?”

  “My engagement ring.” Warily she placed her hand in his. “I paid for it, remember?”

  He reached into his pants’ pocket and pulled out an identical one attached to a pink ribbon. “No,” he said. “You paid $42.98 for this one.” He dangled it in front of her. “The genuine diamond you’re wearing cost $5,347.84.”

  Marley’s jaw dropped.

  He squeezed her hand so she couldn’t pull away. “And there’s no way I’m letting that little treasure out of my sight.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When you bought this,” he said, continuing to dangle the ring in front of her, “you paid with a credit card, one that couldn’t cover the five thousand.”

  Right. She had only a small amount of credit left, barely enough to cover the motel room and her car rental.

  Brant continued, “Gus phoned the police.”

  “The police!” She pulled back, but he still gripped her hand.

  “Yes. He called me into his shop with the police there and explained how you took off with the wrong ring.”

  “I...I...I did?” She placed her right hand over her mouth and continued to stare at the ring he dangled before her, as though hypnotized.

  “Gus agreed to take the ring back, providing we return it after the wedding.”

  “Of course, of course. Here,” she said, finally freeing her hand and pulling on the ring. She paused and looked up at him. “Wait a minute. How do I know you’re telling the truth? The police? Really? This all sounds suspicious.” She pointed at the other ring. “That’s just another fake diamond.”

  In one continuous motion, Brant grasped her wrist, whisked her out of her chair and dragged her over to the mirror in the bathroom. He ran the ring on her finger over the glass. The mirror now had a scratch. “Here,” he said, pushing the ring with the pink ribbon into her other hand. “Your turn.”

  Shaken, Marley ran that ring over the glass. Nothing. Making a fist with her left hand, she tried again with the ring she wore. Another scratch.

  “You want more proof? I’ve got the receipts in my bag.”

  “And I suppose you’ve got a video, too. You plan to put it on the internet?”

  “Boy, have you got some attitude.” He followed her back into the bedroom. “I save you, and you act like I turned you in.”

  “Well, what do you expect?” Marley collapsed onto the chair, struggling desperately to control her tears. “You call me a thief, and tell me I could be facing a jail sentence, and I’m out five thousand dollars.”

  Brant sat across from her on the bed. “Gus isn’t pressing charges. Besides, I paid for the ring.”

  “You what?” Marley leaned forward, gripping the wooden chair arms for support. “Where did you get five thousand dollars?” For most of the time she’d known him, he’d looked more like a homeless bum than someone with any money.

  “I put it on my credit card. The charge comes off when we return the ring.”

  Calming down somewhat, Marley asked, “What shall we do with it? I’ve already lost it once.”

  “You wear it. I’ll keep this,” he said, putting the fake back in his pocket. “Until we decide on a safe place for the real one.” He stood and glanced at his watch. “Should we go get the Emersons? I’m starving. Haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

  “Wait.” Marley raised a hand, and Brant sat back down on the bed. “My family isn’t expecting you.”

  “Yes they are. Your mother and father invited me.”

  She stopped his protest by shaking her head and indicating he should stay. “They’re not expecting you. They’re expecting a very rich guy who owns a horse ranch and is a successful businessman in finances.”

  “Am I the Texan or the British count?”

  “Neither!” Marley stood, her eyes wide, and shook a finger at him. “And don’t you dare try one of those accents.”

  Brant fell back on the bed, his arms over his head.

  She sat back in the chair. Marley needed to concentrate, and she held her head in her hands while she tried to decide what to do next. When she looked at him about to fall asleep on the bed, she ordered, “Pay attention, Brant.”

  “I am. Tell me more so I can get into character.”

  How could he be so relaxed while she felt as if her brain were exploding with the ramifications of his arrival? How could she tell him to act like a normal person? “Please don’t...don’t make waves. I mean, act like...a person who just got engaged.” She had almost said act normal, but she didn’t know what normal was with Brant.

  He sat up. In that same British accent he’d used previously, he said, “And I’m obviously totally enamored and think you’re the love of my life.”

  “Stop talking like that.” She stood and pounded her fists against her hips.

  His eyebrows went up. “I’m not to act enamored?”

  “Stop using that accent.”

  “But I could really use the practice for my next gig.”

  “Your acting thing is never to come up.” Marley looked away and placed her hands on either side of her head to contain the explosion in her brain. Taking in a deep breath, she turned to him, determined to control the situation. “You do anything to embarrass me, Brant Westfield, including that phony accent, and you’ll never see this ring again.” Flashing her left hand at him, Marley walked over to the door. Brant trailed her closely.

  * * *

  NO NEED TO practice for his part. Just play himself. Rich successful businessman. Had she looked him up on the Internet? Brant followed her out the door and worked hard at containing his amusement. This could be a whole lot of fun if Marley wasn’t so uptight. Why had she gone berserk when he’d mentioned her father? Brant sobered, remembering his own father. If only he’d been at the ranch when Brant had been there so they could have had that serious discussion. It still nagged at him. What had his father wanted to discuss?

  Brant climbed into the backseat next to the older gentleman, while the man’s wife continued to carry the conversation. Lush green scenery passed by, so differe
nt from the land in Arizona. No need to irrigate with this constant drizzle. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

  The drama was about to start. He’d find out more about Marley and what she was like around her family once he met her parents. He’d steer the conversation to how she learned to play the guitar. Maybe go through family photos. What had she looked like as a child? When the car pulled to a stop, Brant sat up and regarded the house stretched across the property.

  A wraparound porch covered the first floor and an addition peeked out on the left side. A rambling ranch his father would call it. Homey.

  Brant felt excitement build, a tension he experienced whenever he was about to play a part. Let the show begin.

  * * *

  LINDY AND THEIR mother were on the porch as Marley pulled into the driveway. Panic gripped her. What if this whole pretense fell apart? She’d never be able to hold her head up again.

  The Emersons took off for the house, calling out greetings, arms raised. About to follow them in, Marley stopped when Brant grasped her arm. “That our audience?” Brant pointed to the porch, indicating the additional people collecting there.

  Marley nodded.

  “Break a leg,” he said and drew her into his arms. “Relax,” he whispered against her ear. “You want to convince your family we’re in love, you’ll have to loosen up. I may be good, but you’ll need to cooperate a little. I can’t carry the whole show by myself.”

  “You arrogant—” She stopped when his lips brushed hers. The kiss, if that’s what it was, turned out to be very short. A disappointment, actually. “You call that a kiss?”

  He turned, dragging her toward the porch. As he smiled and waved, he said under his breath, “That’s what I give mannequins. You want something better, you’d better put some life into those bones.”

  Marley controlled any retort, not wanting to sound like a surly malcontent in front of their audience. However, his remark galled her. This guy who had gone out of his way to be with her, and acted as though he really liked her, now found her lacking? No one had ever complained about her kisses before.

  As they approached the house, Lindy and Denny made a quick exit toward one of the parked cars in the circular driveway. Instead of coming over to Marley and Brant, they got into their car and drove away.

  Marley grasped Brant’s arm and stopped, staring at the couple who left rubber on the road in their speedy getaway.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Lindy wanted to meet you so badly, and here she is driving off without even saying hello.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  Marley made quick introductions to her mother, grandfather and Aunt Effie, thankful that her father wasn’t in sight. The three delighted in welcoming him into the family, and, miracle of all miracles, Brant didn’t embarrass her.

  None of her sisters or their husbands and offspring were around. “Where are they off to?” Marley asked, pointing toward the departing car.

  “Lindy just notified Denny he has a bachelor party he needs to attend.” She turned to Brant. “You’ll be expected to go, too. Marley can drive you.” Nora glanced at the car pulling into the drive. “Or you can go with Denny’s brother.” With a wave and no further explanation, Nora turned and entered the house as a convertible with the top up pulled close to the porch.

  Marley went over to the driver’s side.

  Richard rolled down the window and leaned an arm on the door frame. “I’m creating the best send-off a guy ever had. I have a private room with food and drinks and a surprise or two you don’t want to know about.” He did a drumbeat on the outside of the door.

  “You’re not putting Denny on some plane to Chicago or something harebrained like that?”

  “No, but that’s not a bad idea.”

  “Just don’t do anything to delay or spoil the wedding.”

  Brant came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist possessively. Richard eyed him, his jaw tightening. “Who’s this?”

  Brant maneuvered her to the side and stuck out his hand. “Brant Westfield, the newest fiancé. I’m supposed to help give your brother a spectacular send-off?”

  Without acknowledging the outstretched hand, Richard said, “Sure, hop in.”

  Brant didn’t move. “Mind dropping me off at the motel first, if it’s not out of your way? I’d like to get a clean shirt.”

  “Wait.” Marley grasped Brant’s arm and moved him away so she could speak directly to Richard. “I have to go to the motel for my clothes, too. Why don’t you let me drive everyone in my car? You’ll probably all get wasted, and I can be your designated driver.”

  As they headed to her car, Brant said, “Bossy, aren’t you?” and got into the passenger seat of her Toyota. “I don’t drink, so I can be the designated driver.”

  Richard climbed into the backseat and sat behind her. Marley glanced into the rearview mirror and caught Richard’s attention. “I’m the only one allowed to drive the rental.” She smiled. “I’ll be at the motel, so give me a call when you’re ready to go home.”

  Brant moved closer. “Think you can stay away from the hard stuff in the room’s refrigerator?”

  With a perfunctory nod, she said, “No worry. I don’t drink.”

  “Really? You gave it up after taking the picture of my picture?”

  Marley glared at Brant.

  Richard spread his arms across the back of the rear seat and glanced out the window. “Wow. They’re only just engaged and they bicker as much as an old married couple.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “WANT TO COME IN?” Marley asked Richard when they arrived at the motel.

  “Sure he does,” Brant said, exiting the car. “Nothing he’d like better than watching an engaged couple change clothes.”

  While Richard stayed behind, Marley seethed. “What’s your problem?” she asked Brant once they were inside the motel.

  Brant shrugged. “No problem. I’m just trying to get my head into this part I’m playing, and I haven’t figured out what’s going on with that guy. What did I do wrong? He acts like he doesn’t want me here.”

  Marley, too, had noticed Richard’s cool demeanor toward Brant. Was he upset that with the arrival of her fiancé their time together would be limited? The idea intrigued her. If true, she’d have to break off this engagement as soon as possible.

  “It’s your imagination.”

  With only a raised eyebrow at her, Brant opened his luggage and took out several shirts, which he hung in the open closet. “His name suits him.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Dick.”

  “Richard,” she corrected.

  “You say tomato, I say—”

  “It’s Richard!”

  He shook out one of the shirts. It was in a cowboy style, with decorative blue stripes and pearl buttons. At least he hadn’t packed any chambray shirts that looked like ones he’d worn to clean out a barn. “You think this one will do, darlin’?”

  Ignoring Brant and his Texas twang, Marley collected a pair of black pants and a yellow T-shirt. She turned to see what he had chosen just as he stripped off his white shirt. “Take a good look, darlin’.” He lifted his arms and posed, showing off his bare chest.

  Overconfident jerk, she thought. Thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful.

  “You should know, in case someone asks, if I have any identifying marks.” He sent her that toothy smile that gave her the shivers. “You can tell them I had my appendix out.” He pulled down on the top of his pants to display a flat stomach with a tiny scar.

  “I’ll keep that in mind when it becomes necessary to identify your body.” As she passed him on the way to the bathroom, she added, “And the time cou
ld be very close, if you keep using those annoying accents.” She shut the door after her before he could reply.

  Her attempt to tame her hair into a French twist didn’t work too well. Curls kept popping out. When Brant began knocking on her door, she finally gave up and came out. Richard had arrived. She looked toward him for approval, disregarding Brant.

  Richard gave her an appreciative smile but neutralized it when he glanced at Brant. “We better get going.” He turned toward the car.

  Brant clasped Marley’s arm and stopped her just as she reached the door. “You could have told me, you know.” He had fire in his eyes. She’d never seen him angry.

  After shaking her arm free, she maneuvered away from him. “Told you what?”

  “How you and Richard had a thing going. No wonder he can’t stand me.”

  Feeling coquettish, she smiled at him brazenly. “Jealous?”

  Brant yanked her back into the room and shut the door. “Just what kind of role am I playing here? Are we following through with this engagement, or do I collect my ring and head back to Arizona? Because if you’d rather be with pretty boy over there—”

  “I like him, okay? If I’d realized he’d be here—”

  “Wait a minute. Did you know him before this wedding?”

  “Yes, in college. And, no, I never made the connection between his brother marrying my sister and him.”

  A horn blew.

  “But if you had?”

  Marley planted her fists on her hips and glared at Brant. “I wouldn’t be trapped in this damned engagement.”

  He duplicated her stance. “What’s it going to be? Do we change the game plan now, break up so you can be with Rick or stick with the script?”

  She sighed and dropped her arms. She hadn’t thought things through. Brant’s sudden appearance had her still mulling her choices. How would she explain any of this to her family? “No changes.”

  Brant took a deep breath. “Okay. Keep in mind you’re engaged to me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

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