The Bride Means Business

by Anne Marie Winston

  A stab of envy shot through her. Dax had thought her many things in their long association, but she doubted he’d ever praised her intelligence to anyone.

  “I had an affair with her,” he said. His eyes had gone hard and cold and he watched her like a hawk.

  Carefully, she kept her expression neutral. His affairs meant nothing to her. And maybe if you tell yourself that enough, you’ll even begin to believe it.

  “One night, after a business dinner with some suppliers, I left her standing in front of the restaurant while I went and got the car. When I pulled around front, she was standing in profile, with her face turned away from me—and for a minute, I saw you.” He drummed his fingers on the table and his face was set as he went on. “It hit me then, that I’d picked her because she reminded me of you. Subconsciously, maybe I figured she looked enough like you that I could replace you with her in my damned dreams.”

  She made an instinctive sound of denial. Why had she asked about his stupid kid anyway? She should have known he would turn it into one more opportunity to rub her nose in the failure of their engagement, which he perceived to be her fault. But Dax was still speaking and the words penetrated her mind despite her best efforts to ignore them.

  “Our...fling didn’t last long, and it wasn’t the only one. Unfortunately, the God of Birth Control was on vacation, and that February, she told me she was pregnant.”

  February. She took deep breaths, trying to still the buzzing in her head. He’d gotten another woman pregnant less than a year after he’d left her. If she’d had any doubt about how little she’d really meant to him, there was none left now. She held up her hand, and her voice was a whisper. “Stop.”

  “No way. You wanted to hear it. You can tough it out.” When she tried to rise, Dax caught her hands and held her in her seat. “Christine was born October third. Libby and I got married a few months before her birth.”

  That was a perfect entry for another cutting comment. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one. Misery washed over her in great waves and now she did stop listening, staring at the big hands imprisoning hers.

  They were strong and blunt, the backs covered with silky black hair that she knew was repeated in other places all over his body. Those hands had touched her with love once, long ago when she’d had dreams of being the love of his life, of being the mother of his children.

  But instead, he’d found someone else.

  As she stared at his hands, they seemed to recede down a long tunnel, like the inside of a kaleidoscope, only the black around the edges impinged upon the color more and more, squeezing the perfect circle of her vision into a teeny dot of color—

  “Jillian!” Dimly, she realized Dax was holding her. She wanted to struggle away but lethargy kept her limbs from bothering to respond to her sluggish brain. He put a hand at the back of her neck and held her head down between her knees. “Take deep breaths.”

  Vision began to return and she cautiously raised her head. People were staring at them around the dining room, but at a glance from Dax, they quickly looked away again.

  “Here. Take a drink. You still look white enough to faint.” He held a glass of water to her lips, and she sipped obediently. Then she realized she was in his lap.

  “I don’t faint,” she said irritably, trying to get away from the contact. Beneath her bottom, his thighs were hard, his body warm, his arm firm and muscled against her back, and if she didn’t loathe him so much, she happily could have nestled in for a decade or two. They tussled for a minute, and he finally set her in her own seat again—probably because she was attracting attention with all her flopping around.

  “I don’t faint,” she said again.

  “Okay, you don’t faint.” Dax smiled, and there was a touch too much warmth and gentleness in it. She didn’t want him warm and gentle, damn it. He was much easier to hate when he was being overbearing and unfriendly.

  “It was the alcohol on an empty stomach, that’s all. Give me those crackers,” she demanded, indicating the generous plate of cheese and crackers they’d ignored until now.

  As he handed her the plate, he said quietly, “If it makes you feel any better, the marriage was a disaster from the first day. It took Libby about five minutes to figure out that she was a substitute for you.”

  She’d expected bitterness, and was caught off-guard by the weary resignation in his tone. “If you hated me so much why did you tell her about me?”

  He raised his gaze to her puzzled one, and now there was bitterness, as well as cynical self-mockery in the look. “I didn’t,” he said flatly. “But calling your name in the middle of the night—and other times—kind of tipped her off.”

  It wasn’t fair. There should be some satisfaction in knowing that he’d been as miserable as she. But images of Dax with another woman rose to taunt her and she found herself fighting back the lump rising in her throat. To combat it, she summoned up her attack strategies.

  “Let me guess,” she said, raising a brow mockingly. “She left you before you could explain what really happened.”

  There was a silence as he absorbed the dig. But all he said was, “No. She didn’t leave me. It took about four years for me to decide that all we were doing was ruining Christine’s life with our constant fighting. I moved out and asked for a divorce.” His mouth twisted. “Libby found somebody to replace me fast enough. The problem is that he doesn’t want another man’s kid around. And Libby only sees Christine as a reminder of a lousy time in her life.”

  “So she’s with you for, what, vacation? Visitation?” She forced out the words, ignoring the ache in her throat. She didn’t want to like Dax’s child, didn’t want to care about her. But this tragic story aroused every ounce of maternal instinct she possessed. How could anyone fail to love their own child, no matter what the circumstances?

  After he’d left, after she’d finally realized he was never coming back, she’d cried nightly for months. God, she’d wanted children of her own, children of his, so badly....

  Dax shook his head, and his expression darkened. “I was awarded full custody of Christine a year ago. Libby hasn’t called her, hasn’t been to see her since. From now on, all my little girl has is me. And you,” he added. “Since you’re her stepmother.”

  “Hardly.” Stepmother. It was getting hard to breathe.

  “You will be in a few days.” His expression grew grim. “And I’d appreciate it if you could try not to traumatize her further when you move in.”

  Her hand shook as she reached for her water, and droplets splashed across the white table cloth. “I can’t do this.”

  “You’ve already agreed to it.”

  “You mean, ‘been coerced into.’” She could hardly contain her distress.

  Dax’s eyes were cool. He leaned forward and mopped at the spill without taking his gaze from her. “It’s your own fault.”

  “It is not my fault,” she whispered over the ache in her throat. “I never left you. I wasn’t cheating on you with your brother—I loved you, Dax.” She looked away from his intense, uncomprehending gaze, unable to resist protesting her innocence one last time. “I trusted you, apparently a whole lot more than you trusted me.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back, eyeing her with distant interest. “I guess now you want to tell me your version of how you and Charles wound up trading ‘I love yous’ in bed together while you were wearing my ring.”

  She put down the cracker she had been nibbling, all interest in food gone. He would never believe a word she said, and she should know better than to dream for one little minute of setting the record straight between them. “You know what? This was a really lousy idea. Let’s pretend we just finished our coffee and dessert and get out of here.”

  “Don’t you want your lobster?”

  “No.” She rose. “I’m leaving.”

  He stood and signaled for the check, assisting her to her feet and holding her elbow when she would have bolted out of the room ahead o
f him.

  “Someday,” he said, looking down at her as he helped her into his BMW, one hand on the door frame and the other braced against the roof. “Someday it will be your turn to talk. And I’ve already started making my list of questions.”

  As he rounded the back of the car, Jillian looked off across the parking lot, wishing she could snap her fingers and be home, and end this miserable afternoon. Movement caught her eye, and she recognized Roger Wingerd escorting a woman into the club. At the same moment, he saw her. A distinctly wary expression crossed his features, but he altered his course and came toward the car. Well, she couldn’t blame him, poor man, after the way Dax had acted last time they’d met.

  “Hello, Roger,” she said through her open window.

  “Hello, Jillian,” he said. He bent to nod through the window at Dax. “Mr. Fiersall.”

  Dax nodded. “Wingerd. I’ll be seeing you at the board meeting next Tuesday.”

  “Ah, yes.” Roger nodded. “Will you be assuming an active role in the company? Charles was in accord with the rest of the board—”

  “I’ve read the reports,” Dax interrupted. “And frankly, I doubt that I’ll be as easy to get along with as Charles apparently was. I’m not impressed with the way the company has been handled.”

  Roger’s eyebrows rose, but his tone was mild. “The rest of the stockholders haven’t been unhappy, but I’m sure they’ll be glad to entertain your ideas.”

  “Good.” Dax turned the key and the Beamer’s engine roared to life with a muted growl. “I’ll be happy to offer them.” And without waiting for a reply, he reversed and began to drive out of the parking lot.

  “You know,” Jillian said, “There’s an old saying that you can catch more flies with sugar than you can with...other substances. It couldn’t hurt to at least pretend to be courteous to your employees.”

  Dax shrugged. “Wingerd may not be an employee for long. I intend to make some major changes in the company’s structure.”

  She was horrified. “But you can’t just barge in there and start axing people! Roger’s been a loyal employee. The rest of the board will never agree.”

  “Maybe not. But it doesn’t really matter what they think. With the majority vote, I intend to move the company in the direction I’ve decided we need to go.”

  “So you’re just going to march in there and start issuing orders? Getting rid of faithful employees?” And why did he assume their marriage would give him her votes automatically?

  “I’m not going to fire employees wholesale. I don’t particularly enjoy the thought. But if we don’t streamline and tighten a little, everyone who’s employed there will be out of work. Is that what you want? Piersall was started by my grandfather, and I’d like to hand it down to Christine someday. I have no intention of letting the current situation get any worse.”

  She didn’t answer him. But the glimmer of an idea had blossomed in her mind. Tuesday’s board meeting might be more interesting than even Dax planned.

  The rest of the week passed far too quickly for Jillian’s peace of mind.

  Dax arranged a brief civil ceremony at the courthouse on Friday morning. The witnesses would be two people who were paid for their services, because she’d flatly refused to have anyone she knew attend.

  On Thursday, they met at his lawyer’s office to sign the prenuptial contract she’d requested. It was short and succinct, and her lawyer had reviewed it and made a few pertinent changes, much to Dax’s annoyance. Each of them would retain any assets they brought to the marriage; if she stayed a minimum of six months, Dax would fulfill the terms of the rental lease of her store location as he’d indicated previously.

  They met in the courthouse hallway the next morning. The only concession she’d made for the occasion was to pull an elegant ivory silk suit from her closet that morning. She’d insisted on driving herself in from the store. She had a lunch date with her closest friends and she saw no reason to pretend this was anything more than a business arrangement Keeping everything as superficial as she possibly could was the only way she would get through this horrible farce. Not that she’d ever let Dax know that.

  “Don’t you want your sister or a friend to be here?” Dax asked her. “We still have time to call them.”

  “What for?” she said as they walked toward the judge’s chambers. “It isn’t as if this is a real wedding.” She shuddered, remembering the weddings of her sister and both of her best friends in recent years. Those ceremonies had been filled with so much love and tenderness that she’d nearly ruined her image by crying at each one of them. This, she was determined, would be as unmemorable as she could possibly make it, as far from the dreams and expectations she’d once had as the sun was from the moon.

  Dax looked down at her. “It is a real wedding,” he said in a cool, remote voice. “It will be as binding as anything you’ve ever done in your life, honey-bunch, and I expect you to remember it.”

  “Or what?” she asked flippantly. “The last time you got mad at me you picked up all your toys and moved out of town. Can I get that lucky again?”

  Rage kindled in his eyes. “I’m older and wiser now,” he said through his teeth as the door to the judge’s chambers opened and the couple before them entered. “If I catch you being unfaithful this time, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

  The promising menace in his voice subdued the sharp response she’d been about to make, and once again, she realized how little she knew about the man he’d become. And she didn’t care, she told herself firmly. She only had to endure this for six months, let Dax get his precious family business straightened out, and then she’d be gone from his life as fast and finally as he’d left hers seven years ago.

  It was their turn all too quickly, and before she knew it, she was standing before the judge exchanging vows with Dax. It was passionless and utterly forgettable, and she was glad. This wasn’t a marriage in her eyes and this stupid ceremony certainly wasn’t anything to remember. It might legally bind her to Dax but this way she could pretend she was living a bad dream for the next few months.

  Near the end of the short ceremony, though, she was jolted into full alertness when Dax produced two sets of rings from his pocket at the judge’s request.

  Hastily, she put both hands behind her back. “I don’t need a ring.”

  “Oh, yes, you do.” Dax took her arm and tugged, his fingers digging into her soft flesh until she released her clasped hands and let him drag her left hand forward. He slipped a delicate, beautifully designed diamond with an interlocking wedding band onto her finger and then turned his hand in hers, practically forcing her to slip the ring he handed her onto his finger.

  Without making a scene in front of the judge, she could hardly refuse, though she was tempted. She wouldn’t, however, look at him or their hands as the judge concluded the words that sealed her fate. Dax didn’t attempt to kiss her, which, in her opinion, showed intelligence on his part. When she signed the license, her hand shook as she wrote her name.

  “I’m keeping my name,” she said as she handed him the pen.

  “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” she said in a dismissive tone.

  Dax didn’t respond, but she cast him a wary glance. He wasn’t usually so easy to defy, and his silence made her wonder what he was up to.

  They emerged from the courthouse and she blinked in the hot sun of the autumn day. She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses, sighing in relief when she’d shoved them onto her nose. Dax didn’t appear to mind the sudden change in light at all. He took her by the elbow again as they crossed the street to the parking lot where their cars waited, something she’d noticed he did with annoying regularity, and she pulled free.

  “Hands off. This ring doesn’t give you any more privileges than you had before.”

  He slanted her a dark, knowing smile. “My touch bothers you that much?”

  “Your touch is so insignificant as to be unnot
iced in my life.” Even though every cell in her body was aware of him pacing along beside her.

  “Unnoticed?”

  “Completely.”

  “Well, then, I guess you wouldn’t notice this, either.” She’d forgotten that Dax hated to lose an argument even more than she did, but the knowledge came crashing back as his hand seized her elbow again. This time, though, it wasn’t a simple, courteous gesture.

  This time, he swung her around to face him, sliding an arm around her waist before she even registered his intent. His face loomed in her vision as it neared hers, and she gasped as he used pressure at the small of her back to pull her solidly against him right there in the middle of the parking lot. The gasp died half-issued, though, as he took her mouth in an intimate, searing kiss that demanded a response.

  She went rigid with denial. No! She didn’t want this, didn’t want him, didn’t want to want him. But even as that streaked through her mind, a much more primitive response took over.

  Her body became someone else’s when he touched her. It seemed to belong to some willing, wanton woman who writhed beneath his hands, seeking a better fit for the hard strength of his body against hers, opening her mouth willingly for his invasion and welcoming the bold strokes of his tongue with her own. This other woman’s breasts tingled with arousal where they were dragged over the unyielding planes of his chest, and her loins throbbed with inviting pleas for fulfillment.

  When he raised his head, she could do nothing but cling to him, limp and unresisting. He still held her to him as his penetrating gaze swept over her face. Dimly, she realized that Dax was angry, but that he’d retained control while pushing her beyond the edges of her own.

  But he was breathing as harshly as she. Whatever punishment he’d intended this to be had gotten out of his control as well.

  “I don’t love you,” he said, and the words sliced straight through a heart she thought he’d already damaged beyond repair years ago. “But I still want you, and you want me, regardless of what you say to the contrary. Tonight we’ll do something about it.”