“Can I take that as a ‘yes’?” He should be laughing at her, but his expression was strangely intense.
“You must have been in an insane asylum all these years,” she said, as she finally forced thought to translate to speech. With the return of her voice came outrage. Fury. Damn him! Nobody else in the world could make her lose her temper faster. “I wasn’t good enough to marry when you decided your brother and I were having an affair behind your back but now that I own his part of your business, I’m suddenly acceptable?” She picked up a heavy tome of poetry reserved for a customer, feeling the anger flowing through her.
“If you throw that at me, I swear I’ll come over this counter after you.” He didn’t raise his voice a single decibel, but she had the feeling he wasn’t kidding. As she slowly, resentfully, lowered the book, he went on. “Are you mad because I left or because I came back with a child?”
“Neither! I’m not mad. To be mad I’d have to care, wouldn’t I?” She heard the tremor in her voice and forced strength and venom to mask it. “The only thing I care about is that you jumped to your own conclusions and broke your brother’s heart, and you never bothered to admit you could have been wrong. And now he’s dead and it’s too late.”
He winced visibly. When he spoke, his voice was subdued. “How could I have been wrong? I know what I saw. I heard what I heard. Are you claiming I misunderstood something?”
“You, the one who’s never made a mistake? Wrong?” It was a sarcastic mutter.
There was a tense silence between them for a moment. Dax eyed her with a thoughtful expression that unnerved her more than she cared to admit. Then the blank regard she couldn’t decipher descended, shuttering his thoughts from her. “When would you like to get married? We need to do it soon. There are some things that really can’t wait.”
“I don’t like,” she said through her teeth. “No.”
“Also, I want you in the house because I’m going to need your help and it would be a whole lot easier if you were close by. You’d have your own bedroom,” he added, as if that was a magnanimous offer. “And Mrs. Bowley will stay, of course, to keep the house in order. I wouldn’t want Christine to be any more upset than she already is.”
That stung. He obviously cared for his child. It more than stung, it burned. “I’m not interested. Surely there’s another woman somewhere who’d be willing to take you on.”
A wolfish grin spread across his face. Too late she realized her mistake. “Oh, there are plenty of women who’d be happy to take me on, honey-bunch. As I recall, you were one of them once.” She made a furious exclamation and he spoke right through it. “But we’re talking about something a lot more important than a roll in the hay. Charles left the business in a real bind. If I’m going to prevent bankruptcy, I’m going to need to devote a lot of time to it and I need you to help. In addition, I have my own business concerns to think about.”
“Which are?” She concentrated on his words rather than viewing the unwanted images of Dax with another woman that were parading through her brain.
He ignored her. Again. “I’m already negotiating a big account for Piersall to manufacture a new product. I need a hostess. Unfortunately, half of business relationships are social ones. You have the polish—and the knowledge—to be an asset to me.”
“I’m flattered.” She fanned herself ostentatiously with a hand.
“And you know how to manipulate men into doing just about anything.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, my. I’ve gone from being a hostess to a prostitute in two sentences.”
“We’ll be married. I’d expect you to act like it. At least in public.”
“A snowball in hell would have a better chance.”
His mouth tightened, but he didn’t explode. “With your education, you can be of considerable help with the financial end of this mess as well. There are some strange things in the books that I’d like your opinion on.” He ran a frustrated hand through his crisp black hair. “Even though I have good people in Atlanta, I’m going crazy trying to manage two businesses.”
“You don’t have far to go.” She was pushing him, she knew. But there was no way he was talking her into this insane idea. It would destroy her. “Sounds to me like you need to hire some help.”
The glitter came back as his eyes hardened. “That’s what I’m trying to do. I want to make some changes in the management structure but I can’t do it over the rest of the board’s objections unless you back me. Between us, we could get things straightened out enough to hand over a reasonably organized operation to an administrator of our choosing.”
“I have a business, in case that’s escaped you. I don’t need another job.”
“You could work with me in the evenings, at the house. You’d never have to go in to the company.”
“No wonder you’re having trouble managing two businesses—you’ re deaf.” She raised her voice. “NO!”
The sound was caught and absorbed by the million and one stuffed toys throughout the shop. She would have loved for it to echo again and again. No...no...no—
“Christine needs a mother. You’ll do.”
She was flabbergasted. She’d thought he couldn’t hurt her more. She’d been wrong. “Let her own mother do it,” she said acidly. “Or did you run away from her, too?” Pain lanced through her, spearing her heart and she couldn’t prevent tears from springing to her eyes. “I have no intention of pretending to show affection for your—”
“Stop right there.” His voice cracked with authority and she halted, her anger sidetracked. She’d never heard Dax sound like that when they were younger. Suddenly she was able to see how he’d managed to build a successful business of his own from virtually nothing. “Christine’s mother doesn’t want her,” he said. “She hates my guts and sees my child as a reminder of a marriage she wishes never had occurred.”
Jillian knew what it was to be unwanted. But she squashed the empathy that rose. She couldn’t be a mother to Dax’s child by some other woman. The mere idea was enough to knock the spirit out of her. “Why me?” Hurt dulled her tones and she saw his brows draw together. Furiously, she blinked back the tears. I will not cry.
“Why not you? We’ve practically lived together before. I already know all your annoying habits.”
“You don’t know me at all,” she said bitterly. “I’m not the stupid little girl who hung on every word you uttered anymore.”
“I’m well aware that you’re not a little girl anymore.” He was looking at her mouth and as he spoke, he started around the counter. “And there are some things I know for sure.” As he reached for her, she backed away, into the little alcove where the staff hung their coats and made drinks.
“I don’t want this.” Her body screamed, Liar, even as her mind recoiled from the horrible reality of being attracted to a man who hated her.
“Too bad. It’s the only way I know to shut you up.”
She put out her hands to shove him away, but he only grabbed her wrists and held them pinned against the wall on either side of her head as he came up against her, pressing her back against the wall with his big body, and the intimate contact stole her breath away. How could this feel so right, so perfect?
There was a moment of electric stillness, punctuated only by the soft feathering of his breath over her cheek. He leaned into her, flattening her breasts against the solid wall of his chest, so close that she could see the beginnings of the heavy beard he’d probably shaved only a few hours ago. And if he hadn’t been holding her hands in place, she might have unthinkingly caressed one lean, tanned cheek to see if the skin over his cheekbones was as taut and firm as it looked. He swallowed, and her eyes followed the movement of his Adam’s apple.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, and the words saved her from the sensual lethargy that threatened to swamp her.
She knew struggling would be nonproductive so she didn’t bother, but turned her face to the side. “Not in this life.”
H
e raised her wrists higher, above her head, and transferred them both to one big hand. Then he took her chin in his hand and forcibly turned her head around. He didn’t bother to answer, only set his mouth over hers and began to kiss her.
Their bodies shifted closer, meshed as if they were puzzle pieces perfectly placed. She could feel him, already aroused and growing more so against her, and his mouth devoured hers as if she were a dessert he’d been craving for years.
She hated him; she wasn’t going to respond. But her body, long denied the only man who had ever possessed her heart, wasn’t about to cooperate, and she could feel her willpower draining away as his tongue flicked along her lip line. After another moment of rigid resistance, her mouth opened beneath his and her body went lax.
As her tongue tentatively met the fierce demand of his, Dax released her wrists and twined his fingers with hers, drawing them down to their sides as their bodies strained against each other. She pulled her hands away from him and slid her palms up his arms in his suit coat, feeling the bulge of muscled biceps beneath the fabric. He’d always kept himself in good shape. It appeared he hadn’t changed in that respect.
He cupped one hand around the back of her skull, still holding her lightly for his kissing while the other hand slid surely down over her back to her buttocks, where he filled his hand with her soft flesh and lifted her strongly against him.
She cried out, and he swallowed the sound. For uncounted minutes, they simply explored each other’s mouths as he held her pinned against the wall, her body cradling his, his surging against her until the tension in her abdomen was an unbearable taut fist of need and she was meeting his wild thrusts with involuntary circles of her pelvis.
And then he tore his mouth from hers, his hand pressing her face against his shoulder. “Stop,” he said in a strangled tone. “Jill, we have to stop.”
The words were haunting, a familiar echo from years past.
As if she were surfacing from a great depth, she slowly processed their meaning. Her body still strained toward his, though he took her by the waist and held her away from him. She shook her head, trying to clear it, trying to think, and as realization dawned, she stepped away from his hands, turning her back on him and wrapping her arms around herself as if the climate inside the store had taken a turn toward arctic.
Dax blew out a shaking breath. “Holy absolute hell. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
She didn’t bother to answer him. She was ashamed. God, she hated herself. And him. This man had believed the worst of her, left her and stayed away until he was forced to come home—and the minute he got near her again, she melted like soft wax to his hot flame.
“I don’t want to want you,” she said, shuddering.
“That’s a futile sentiment,” he said. “Bottom line, honey-bunch, is that we can’t keep our hands off each other. Never could, never will.”
She whirled to face him, hot anger feeding her shame as she relived her wanton response to his caresses. “Well, here’s another bottom line—that’s one good reason I won’t many you. Among a host of other, equally valid ones.”
He stilled, like a great buck scenting danger. “If you say no, Piersall could go under. It’ll cost a lot of people their jobs.”
“So you say.” She touched her swollen lips to still their trembling. “I have nothing but your word on that.” A short, harsh bark of what passed for laughter burst out of her. “And we both know what your promises are worth.”
A red tide of color crept up his neck. “Your fault.”
“A promise is a promise,” she said. “You didn’t know anything about what happened between Charles and me. You made an assumption and took off without ever checking out the real truth.” Suddenly, she realized what she was saying and she stopped abruptly. She had no intention of trying to vindicate herself in his eyes. Because that would mean she cared about what he thought.
Dax was staring at her like a cat at an irresistibly moving piece of string, his curiosity a palpable presence in the small space where they still stood. She knew he was turning her words over in his mind and the last thing she wanted was more questions.
“Well,” she said, as brightly as she could, “As I keep saying, we have nothing to talk about. You can leave now. Want me to make you a flight reservation?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled. “Answer me—will you or will you not marry me?”
“Choice B,” she said. “Not.”
His mouth tightened. “All right. I guess that’s that.” He turned and started for the door. “Any messages for the folks over at Sugar’s? Since I’m going that way,” he added.
Uneasiness gripped her. “Why are you going next door?”
Dax put his hand on the door knob. “I want to talk to the owner about his lease.”
She raced after him and braced her foot against the door. “What are you going to say?”
“That come the end of the month, they’ll need to find a new space to lease. Just like you and every other tenant in this building.”
“No!”
“Then marry me.”
“I can’t!”
“You won’t,” he corrected, easily opening the door despite her struggles to hold it closed.
Desperate to keep him from going, she blurted, “If I agree to marry you...”
“Not a person in this entire complex will have a thing to worry about.”
“You—you worm.” She let go of the door and backed up a step, her voice trembling with helpless rage. “This is low. Even for you.”
“Yep.”
There was a long silence, which she thought resembled nothing so much as an armed standoff. Only he had superior weapons and he knew it.
Her shoulders sagged. “When am I moving in?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “The sooner the better.”
She didn’t answer; she was too busy trying not to scream. How could she possibly be ready in a day?
Dax must have taken her silence for the possibility of another balk. “Look,” he said, “Just do it for six months. If I have things running smoothly by then, you’ll be free to leave.”
Six months. It was a distant light at the end of a dark tunnel. She nodded slowly, stupidly elated with such a silly little victory. “That’s acceptable to me. I have two conditions.”
He was suddenly wary, regarding her as he might a cornered snake. “Which are?”
“First, I want a prenuptial agreement that spells out every single part of this despicable deal. Including a promise from you to freeze rents for the next three years.”
He thought that over for a moment, then nodded. “All right. What’s the second?”
“You can take me to lunch tomorrow and tell me about your daughter.”
“My daughter?” He went even more still, and his voice, normally so sure and confident, hesitated, grew as cautious as a first-time skater stepping onto ice.
“If I have to live with this kid, I want to know all about her. Everything,” she stressed, giving him a level look.
Dax nodded, his eyes searching hers, finding—she hoped—nothing but cool demand. “That’s fair.”
Four
He took her to the country club, and she wondered how in the world he’d managed to get a membership so fast. Then she remembered that Piersalls had been among the founding members; he probably had a seat with the family name engraved on it.
When the waitress rattled off the specials, Jillian took nasty enjoyment from ordering the lobster entrée—the most expensive item in the house. Although she doubted it would make much of a dent in Dax’s pocketbook, if his car and his clothing were an indication of his net worth.
Their drinks arrived, and an awkward silence descended. Dax took a deep breath and she glanced across the table at him, eyebrows raised. He shrugged. “This is...not easy, if you want the truth. I’m not proud of myself.”
Good, she thought. She didn’t want it to be easy for him. He’d put her through hell and back a
gain; let him squirm a little. “I’d like to hear the truth.”
He nodded. “The truth.” He picked up his glass and took a hefty swallow of the imported beer he’d ordered. “After you...” He hesitated, and his lips tightened in grim remembrance. Then he went on. “After I left, I wandered for a while. Mother begged me to come home but I didn’t want to come back here. I had my trust fund to keep me afloat, and I traveled a little. But after about a month, traveling alone was no fun. I was in Atlanta, so I just stayed. I used the Piersall name to get into a couple of influential doors, and started thinking about how I could get a job with some Atlanta firm. Then an opportunity to buy a small business fell in my lap.”
“What business?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about how he’d acquired his money, and she’d been dying to know since she’d laid eyes on the Italian leather shoes next to her Magli pumps at the funeral.
He hesitated. “You can’t laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?” Intrigued despite herself, she leaned forward, trailing her finger over her heart in the shape of a cross. “I promise I won’t laugh.”
“Travers Coffins.”
“Coffins?” A bubble of amusement boiled perilously near the edge of her composure and she quickly forced it back, shaking her head. “You make coffins?”
He was eyeing her with suspicion. “The baby boomers are aging. It’s a growing market and it’s only getting bigger.”
She nodded wisely, seriously. She hoped. “Makes sense to me.”
“You are laughing,” he accused. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you before.”
“I’m sorry.” She put one hand over her mouth and motioned him to proceed. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“Neither was I,” he said dryly. “But as I said, it was a great opportunity. So I used some of my trust to buy it.”
He took another drink, and she did the same, figuring a little Dutch courage couldn’t hurt.
“I hired a couple of people right away, and added others later. The first executive assistant was a girl—woman—named Olivia Garrison. Libby. She was young, like me, fresh out of college with a brand-new degree in finance, and she was really sharp.”
The Bride Means Business Page 6