Illegally Wedded

by Jennifer Griffith

  “Forgive me? Remember that until a second ago I was under the impression you were just going to watch Wolfgang and Trager. I had it all backwards. I was confused.”

  He softened again. “Let’s just say I’ll keep you posted every night. I don’t want to give you an end date, or I might jinx myself, you know?”

  That made sense, but it did little to help her out of her vise-squeezing jam.

  “Okay, Boy Scout.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

  “Faithful. That’s the one I’m most concerned about.”

  “Faithful?”

  “Yeah. While I’m gone, you’ve got to promise me you won’t go, uh, you know.”

  “I know what?”

  “You know, throwing yourself into the arms—or the bed—of some other man.”

  Piper’s face flushed hot, and indignation’s tide rolled in.

  “Chad, please. I’ve never done that up to now, and you know it.”

  Piper hadn’t. It was a thing for her. She wasn’t going to sleep with a big string of men. She intended to pick one and stick with him. Which made this sudden wedding idea feel a little off, to put it mildly. Because, how long did she expect it to last?

  Was Chad her forever?

  “And I hope you won’t go starting some new wild lifestyle the second my plane takes off. Promise me.”

  She rolled her eyes. This was totally unnecessary.

  “Uh, I promise. I’ll even pinkie swear, if you want.”

  “Real men don’t pinkie swear. They win MMA tournaments in Costa Rica and get the $50,000 grand prize.”

  Fifty thousand dollars! She really should start listening to Chad’s fitness stories more closely, maybe go watch him scrimmage, meet Trager and Wolfgang one of these days. As his girlfriend and possibly future wife, the least she could do was take an interest.

  He gave her a hard peck on the cheek.

  Her boyfriend was leaving for the jungle, for who knew how long, and Piper still didn’t have a solution to her deportation problem. Now it was worse because she’d thrown out the possibility to him of marriage, and it dangled, neither accepted nor rejected, like an idea in a noose, waiting to die or be cut down and saved.

  Piper should have pushed for a final response. Also, she really shouldn’t make analogies between marriage proposals and death by hanging.

  What she needed was someone to talk to who understood the ins and outs and legalities of a situation like this, and whose professional opinion she could trust. Help me, Zach Travis—you’re my only hope. Her parents would beam if they knew she’d mentally quoted Princess Leia in her hour of despair.

  But they wouldn’t beam when they found out that to receive Zach Travis’s gallantry, their daughter was morphing into a sycophant who latched onto him for free legal advice. Classy.

  Maybe she shouldn’t go to dinner with him. Maybe Chad wasn’t the only one who needed to hurry up and pack bags, and Piper ought to look into the cost of plane tickets to the South Pacific.

  I wonder if Zach would think I look prettier in my aqua sweater or my eggplant-colored silk blouse?

  Chapter Seven

  Zach knew the meet-up plan at the restaurant was risky, that she could just as easily stand him up as not. In fact, a lot more easily. His palms were sweating, and not just because of the San Antonio humidity.

  Just like for court, though, he’d thoroughly prepped. He’d even called his buddy Garn Horace from his law school days to pick his brain this afternoon. Zach had been careful not to tip his hand at all as he talked to the immigration law expert working over in Austin.

  According to Garn, a marriage that was entered into after deportation proceedings had begun was much more highly scrutinized by Immigration and Customs Enforcement. That didn’t bode well for anyone who tried it solely as an avoidance method.

  In order to sell it, they’d have to make it a hundred percent believable in all areas of their life together. Well, no problem. It didn’t hurt that Piper Quinn had gorgeous eyes the color of the green garnets in the ring he fingered in his pocket. His heart raced just thinking of those eyes. Ever since he’d seen her in Du Jour, while Kinsey caused that Kinsey scene, he’d felt the weight of her gaze still on his soul like a mantle. Tangible, or penetrating, or…something more.

  Well, whatever it was, he liked it. A lot.

  And then there it was again, that gaze’s weight on him like a cloak against a storm. Zach turned around to see her walking up. Oh, man. That sweater turned her eyes from green garnet to green like the Mediterranean off the Amalfi Coast.

  He had to gulp to regain his composure.

  “Piper.” He’d been leaning against the building and he stood straight. “You look amazing.” Okay, so it wasn’t the most original phrase, but it was the only thing that would come out that wasn’t blblhblhbbb, the language of his mind right now.

  Glory, she was hot. Hair loosed from its ponytail, it cascaded around her shoulders in soft, golden waves. The aqua sweater hugged every curve of her petite little frame, and she wore heels so sexy he could kiss each of her toes. But—Zeus!—as always the eyes had him. She’d done something more to them, he couldn’t tell what, but they almost made him think of his neighbor’s cat’s eyes, luminescent and arresting.

  Yeah. Nothing about this business dinner was going to be work in any sense. Unless it was to keep himself from flying too far too fast.

  “I’m not sure I should be here.” Her eyes flicked back and forth between the river and the sidewalk.

  “Oh, you should.” He took her arm and linked it through his, guiding her down the Riverwalk, past shops and striped awnings and flowering greenery.

  Even though she was quite a bit shorter than he was, despite those rocking high heels, with every step he could sense the sway of her hips beside him, and it tugged at his attention like a magnet, reminding him of how he couldn’t take his eye off that horizontal mesmerizing movement earlier today. She was slaying him with that perfume as well.

  Perfume said she was interested.

  The touch of her arm sent pulsations through him he’d never really noticed with any other woman before. This woman set all his nerves a-firing.

  “I hope you like to eat.” He led her toward the bend in the river, beneath one of the bougainvillea bowered bridges. “I’m assuming you do, since I saw you first at Du Jour. That place has killer food. Best asparagus I’ve eaten. My head almost exploded.”

  “Thank you.”

  Thank you? Why would she respond with that phrase? Zach pulled to a stop, but didn’t let go of her arm.

  “You’re welcome?” He puzzled. Did she mean Thank you, I do like to eat, or Thank you, I made the asparagus? “Do you go there often?”

  “Every single day.”

  “Because you love the food.” Or?

  “Because I’m Du Jour’s chef.”

  Hot diggity! Zach’s insides danced a jig like he’d just won at the slots, though he’d never played them. His life just got explosively, exponentially better.

  “That’s fabulous. I loved that asparagus. Well, what I got to eat of it before…”

  “Say no more.” She waved it away. “After all, she was from Oregon.”

  They started walking again, a rush of warmth climbing in him. A woman who could cook like that and looked this good? If he’d known, he wouldn’t have waited to ask her to dinner, he would have been on one knee in the elevator, possibly kissing her feet at some point.

  “Your restaurant’s food could turn me into a foodie.” It still made him ache to remember he hadn’t gotten to taste the sea bass, thanks to Kinsey’s hissy fit. “I was actually on my way over to your bistro when I ran into you today. What did I miss?”

  “I made crêpes with mushroom filling.”

  “That sounds like ambrosia.”

  She was like ambrosia, food of the gods. Zach steered her down the cement steps to the water’s edge.

  They stopped here, and as she slid her arm f
rom his, he caught it—taking her hand, clasping it. Her hand was small, but not soft like his mind had tricked him before, but strong. She used her hands to work. Her hands make her interesting.

  It took effort, but Zach tore his eyes off her every attraction and peered down the river, hoping to catch sight of the yellow gleam of light he had arranged for earlier.

  “The crêpes weren’t bad. But if my watch was correct, by the time you got there, you would have missed them. We close at two.”

  “True confession? I wasn’t coming just for the meal today.” He looked down at her, gauging her reaction, hoping she could read the meaning in his eyes—that he’d been coming to try and find her.

  Yeah, she caught it. Even in the fading light he could see her neck and cheeks flush red, making her look even more vibrant, even more gorgeous, more irresistible.

  He inched a little closer to her and said, a little lower, “I was coming for you.”

  Their eyes met, and that pulsation caught him, just like it had in the elevator. This girl was his cold fusion—impossibly explosive energy generated from the tiniest of her particles touching his.

  A light winked on the dark of the river, snagging his attention.

  “Our ride is here.”

  “Our ride?”

  Up rowed the gondola, complete with Dowty’s best gondolier. Good old Dowty. He really came through for Zach this time—the boat even had candles and music playing.

  “One of the Dowty gondolas?” She cocked her head, as if both pleased and puzzled. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a business meeting?”

  “I’m getting there.” Zach leaped aboard first, and then turned to reach out his hand to help Piper aboard. “My lady.”

  Maybe it was cheesy, this overload on chivalry, but tonight was about killing it with first impressions.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, stepping aboard the wobbling craft. As her foot landed, the gondola tipped wildly, and Piper lost balance, falling from the shore into his arms, which he pressed around her, inhaling her floral and fruit scent. “Oh!”

  Zach had caught her—with cheesy perfection. Oh, man, that perfume smelled even better at close range. His eyes rolled back in his head. She was lighter, even, than she looked. A feather, he pressed her to himself to steady her, and in a miraculous way, she fit against his torso to perfection.

  “There, now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  Wide-eyed, she looked up at him, and as if on cue, her pupils dilated. Oh, yeah. All the signs were there. Not only did this incredible cook need him, she wanted him, too. Big time.

  “Thanks. I was headed for the drink.” Straightening herself and pulling away, she tugged her sweater back into place. “Probably not the cleanest swimming pool in town.”

  He helped her get seated, and when he passed her a cloth napkin from the picnic basket Dowty had arranged, she looked slightly amused. Sitting side by side on the narrow bench, the length of their legs touched. Zach could stay here all night.

  “So, is this how you treat all your dates, Zach Travis?”

  All his dates? Oh, right. She’d seen him with Kinsey yesterday.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, taking them by the arm, helping them into boats, catching them when they fall, handing them cloth napkins.”

  “I was taught young by my Grandma Vada—always treat a woman with respect.” He leaned into her so their hips and shoulders pressed together for a moment before diving into the picnic basket to present her with their first dish. Despite the fact he’d only met her yesterday, he couldn’t resist touching her. “Get her door, make sure she’s safe, that kind of thing.”

  Piper cocked an eyebrow.

  “Grandma Vada, huh?” She accepted the glass plate from his hand, their fingers brushing and sending him through flashing meteor storms again.

  “Quite the woman.” Zach reached into the basket and pulled out their meal. Just like he’d hoped, there was roast beef, French bread, big, crisp grapes, a bit of cheese, and chocolate. Dowty’s specialty: the food of love. He passed servings of each to Piper, who looked at it with approval. “Simple and elegant.”

  “Grandma Vada.” She hung on the vowels, as if she suspected the truth. “Simple and elegant, huh? With a name like Vada, I’d expect someone a little more…I don’t know. Saucy.”

  Zach paused before saying, “By simple and elegant, I meant dinner, not Grandma Vada.” Grandma Vada was anything but.

  Piper’s eyebrow raised, as if she was about to hear some juicy gossip. Cute.

  “So, what’s the real Vada like? I bet she has a tattoo.”

  Now it was Zach’s turn to be interested. “How did you know that?”

  “The internet is a marvelous thing.”

  “What do you mean?” He put down his grapes.

  “I mean, you went on and on about this so-called Grandma Vada yesterday with that girl you were with. Then today you told me your last name. I always do a little research before walking out into the night with a guy I just met. Grandma Vada checked out, but I have to say—her Darth Vada tattoo would have won me over, if her Harley repair shop hadn’t.”

  “I feel so stalked.” So she’d looked him up. A rush of warmth fanned through him.

  “I prefer the term vetted.”

  He gave her props for being sharp and himself props for passing muster, at least enough for this date. He wondered what else she’d discovered about him through his online footprint, but first things first.

  “When I was a teenager, she did, in fact, teach me her theories on etiquette.” He might as well be a hundred percent real with Piper. Anyone who vetted him could find out the truth soon, anyway. “After which, she swore a blue streak at a customer who poured sugar in a gas tank and expected her to fix his consarned mistake, but she didn’t use the word consarned.” Zach laughed at the memory, at the way Grandma’s fist had shaken, and the wrinkles on her neck had deepened when she described that moron—but she didn’t use the word moron. “I learned quite a few things that day, none of them appropriate in the generally accepted rules of etiquette.”

  “Everybody’s got some kind of Grandma Vada in their family. I would love to meet this woman.”

  Zach stared at her mouth, the fullness of her lips taunting him as she chewed. They were probably sweeter than the grapes.

  “No one who meets her ever forgets her,” he said, despite the absence of his brain.

  “What with her choice of body art, my parents would probably worship her. They may or may not have gone through a Star Wars Universe fixation phase.” She reached over the side of the gondola and trailed her fingers in the water, her voice getting nostalgic. “My first eleven Halloweens I was Princess Leia—cinnamon roll hairstyle and all—while my dad was a Wookie and my mom one of those creatures from the cantina on Tatooine. Usually the blue one with big bug eyes. My mom insisted we all be in theme. ”

  “Sounds to me like they’re kind of fun.” There had been a time when his own family had been fun, but it was too long ago to pinpoint a certain concrete memory like Piper’s. “Do you plan on being Princess Leia with them again this fall?”

  “Naw. It’d take an international flight for that.”

  “From where?” This surprised him. He’d been thinking she was a Texas girl—accent or no, she seemed all Texas to him.

  “New Zealand.”

  “Nice. Kiwis. Lots of sheep, I hear.” That explained the hint of an accent—and hinted at the source of the drama at the reception desk this afternoon. On the other hand, if she had to get deported, there were much worse places. “Have your parents gone off to raise mutton chops?”

  “I wish.” Piper exhaled as if her burden were made of tougher stuff than mutton. “Much worse. They’ve…” she winced “…embarked on a hobbit lifestyle.”

  What the…?

  “At least that’s what they call it at Hobbit Household Estates.”

  “Hobbits. You mean the fictional characters from that movie?�
�� Zach had seen the films as a teenager. Everyone had.

  “Books first, then movies, but yes.” She winced a little, her eyes flashing.

  Dip, dip, dip went the pole of the gondolier as they glided along the river. Fireflies winked on the foliaged stretches of shore.

  “I can see the appeal of embarking on that lifestyle.” Zach tried to sound empathetic, but he was also distracted by watching her take another grape. “The peaceful shire, the pretty landscaping, the allure of multiple breakfasts.”

  “Trust me, there are many breakfasts.”

  Who was Zach to judge? Compared to life in a law firm, all of that sounded great.

  “Do they, uh, wear prosthetic hairy feet?”

  Piper’s face relaxed, and she actually laughed. “As far as I know, not yet. But that’s not a bad idea for a Christmas gift.”

  Zach took a sip from his glass. “I know a guy from law school who quit the law and is now doing plastics and costume design. Maybe I can hook you up.”

  They both turned their gaze out at the water. Each press of the gondolier’s pole pushed them forward slightly, soothingly over the river. The background music had shifted to a romantic cello solo, and Piper looked incandescently pretty as its foreground.

  “Family.” Her chest rose and fell as she expended a huge sigh. “We love them to distraction, even when they’re playing the role of our greatest antagonists.”

  That was for sure. Zach knew a lot more about the implications of that statement than he wanted to think about right now.

  It was time, and although he hated to disrupt the calm, beautiful look on her face, he had a purpose to accomplish today, and he wouldn’t let himself shirk it, not like he had in the restaurant yesterday afternoon when he failed to ask for her number, risking losing her permanently.

  But this was no simple task. Proposing marriage to a stranger never would be, never should be. Zach’s collar tightened, and he ran a finger around it clearing his throat.

  “Full disclosure, I overheard what you said in the law office today, about what you’re going through—the deportation threat, the short notice.”