“No,” she said in a shaking voice, pushing belatedly at his chest. “If you come near me tonight, I swear I’ll leave town. I don’t care what you do, you’re not forcing me to sleep with you.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have to force you,” he said in a voice silky with satisfaction. “You and I both know there’d be no force involved.”
“Maybe not.” She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Her voice was regaining steadiness, and she fixed eyes dulled with resignation on his. “But it would still be force because it’s not what I want. If you can live with that, then fine.”
The muscles in the arms still holding her went taut for a moment, and a muscle in his lean cheek throbbed. Then he released her with a short bark of frustrated laughter. “You sure do know how to take the fun out of a wedding day, honey-bunch.”
And as she watched him walk away, she touched a finger to lips that still throbbed from his kisses. Living in the same house with him was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.
Because no matter how loud or long she protested to the world, her heart still yearned for him. She hated him and she loved him, and she wasn’t sure she could resist him again if he was determined to have her.
She was a little late arriving at the café where she’d agreed to meet her friends for lunch because she’d sat in her car calming herself down for ten minutes after Dax had finally left. And then it had occurred to her that he’d been wearing most of her lipstick when he left, so she pulled out her purse and systematically repaired her makeup. The last thing she needed was for Frannie and Dee to grill her about her relationship with Dax. This was going to be hard enough to explain as it was.
The temptation not to mention her marriage to either her friends or her sister was strong. But the holidays were coming, and she didn’t see how she was going to get around it. If it were only her and Dax it would be different. But there was Christine to think about. A child required holiday preparations and events and she would have too much awkward maneuvering to do if she hid the fact of this marriage from everyone.
For the first time, she allowed herself to really remember the child with whom she’d been confronted that evening at Dax’s home. According to what he had told her since, the little girl would be six now... seven next month.
She’d been tall for her age. Blond, slender, with wide blue eyes.
I figured she looked enough like you that I could replace you with her in my damned dreams.
He’d certainly done a good job of trying. Except for the set of the little girl’s jaw, which marked her as Dax’s issue, she could have been Jillian’s. It gave her little satisfaction to know that she’d ruined his effort without even knowing it.
Men were such idiots. She hadn’t married, had never had children because she’d known, instinctively, that there could never be another Dax in her life, and she hadn’t been willing to settle for less. She’d mourned her lack of children, but had never been able to bring herself to coldbloodedly marry a man she didn’t love simply to fulfill her desire for a family.
He, on the other hand....
She shook back her hair and pulled open the café’s heavy glass door. She was not going to let him ruin the rest of her day. It would be bad enough when he found out she had no intention of sleeping at his home tonight, or any night until she moved in her furniture. Right now, she was going to try to relax and explain this to her friends.
Frannie Ferris and Dee Sullivan, her two closest friends, were seated already, and they waved at her across the crowded little room. She wound her way through the maze of tables, embracing each of them as they rose to greet her.
“Hello, hello. Let me see.” She paused and peered at both of their faces with exaggerated attention. “Everybody must be sleeping through the night. I don’t see any dark circles under your eyes.”
As they all settled at the table, Frannie gave a quiet chuckle. “Yes, at long last, everyone in the Ferris household is sleeping the whole night through. We were so spoiled with Alexa and Ian that Brittany was a double shock, the little stinker.”
Jillian smiled as she picked up the drink they’d ordered for her. Frannie’s youngest child would be a year old in December and had been the fussiest infant in recorded history. Once they’d accepted the fact that Brittany simply seemed to need to scream for a few hours a day, Frannie and her husband Jack had relaxed and quit worrying that something was wrong.
“Things are very good at our house,” Dee confessed, laughing when Frannie stuck out her tongue. Dee’s new daughter Maureen was only four months old and already she was sleeping soundly. “Lee loves first grade and Tommy’s just as thrilled with kindergarten. He even says he’s happy having time at home with Ronan and me without Lee.”
“That’s good to hear,” Jillian said. She knew Deirdre had been worried about how her younger son was going to cope with his brother’s absence during his first year of allday school. Then she sat forward. “I have some big news. Any guesses?”
Frannie eyed her speculatively. “How big?”
“Very big.”
Both women looked intrigued.
“You’re buying a new business.” Frannie sat back with a satisfied air.
“Wro-o-ong.” She drew out the word like a gong.
“Going on another cruise?”
“That’s not big news,” Dee objected as Jillian shook her head. “You’re selling your condo?” The smallest woman lifted a hand to indicate she was mystified.
“No, but I’m renting it out.”
“What?” Frannie looked puzzled. “Why would you do that? Where are you moving?”
Jillian smiled into the drink she lifted to her lips. She took a deep breath and prepared to act with all the skill she possessed “It’s a long story. But I guess it starts with...this.” She brought up her left hand and waggled her ring finger under her friends’ noses, giving her best imitation of a woman thrilled to be showing off her new gift.
Both women’s mouths dropped open.
“Those are diamonds!” Dee exclaimed.
“No!” Jillian was glad she could find something to be amused about. She wanted to avoid sympathy at all costs.
“There’s a wedding band as well as a diamond!” Frannie said. “Do you have someone you’d like us to meet?” Her soft brown eyes sparkled with interest.
“I do.” She held up a warning finger. “But it’s not exactly the kind of story you’re expecting to hear.”
“Well, it’s a love story,” Dee said, sighing happily. “That’s all I care about.”
“No, it’s not.”
“What?” Dee sat up straight in her chair. “Tell, Jill. You’re not making any sense.”
“Okay.” Jillian say back again, toying with the ring. “I got married this morning.” She ignored her friends’ startled exclamations and went on. “His name is Dax Piersall and we grew up together. He’s Charles’s older brother.”
“Your friend who was killed,” Frannie said softly.
“Right.” Jillian gazed at the ring. “Charles left me his chunk of the company. Dax and I are making a temporary business merger because there seem to be some problems with company management and we need to straighten things out.”
“You got temporarily married to this guy?” Frannie looked stunned. “I don’t understand. Surely you two could have worked together without a marriage.”
“No,” Jillian said. “Trust me. It’s better this way.” She refused to bare the ugly details of either her past with Dax or the deal he’d forced upon her. If she had to eat humiliation, she’d do it privately.
“How long will you be married?” Dee asked. Her heartshaped face was drawn into a mask of bewildered concern. “And where will you be living?”
“I’m moving into Dax’s home on the other side of Butler County. We agreed on six months.” She twisted the ring on her finger, deliberately attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “You know, he didn’t tell me if I could keep the rings when
this is all said and done. Guess I’ll have to work on that one.”
“You’re hiding something,” Frannie accused. “What are you not telling us?”
“Just details, lots of boring details. It’s really a pretty simple deal. Oh, and Dax has a daughter, so I’m going to become a stepmama.”
“Oh, boy, the plot thickens. How old is his daughter?” asked Dee.
“Just a little older than Lee, actually. I imagine she’s in first grade as well.”
“Where were you married?”
Jillian quickly saw where Frannie was going with her train of thought. Frannie ran a business designing wedding gowns; her feelings were going to be bruised that Jillian hadn’t let her design a gown for her. “We went down to the courthouse about two hours ago,” she said hastily. “I wore this. Really, it was no big deal. We didn’t even have any witnesses.”
“Just like a business merger,” Dee said softly.
“Exactly.” Jillian raised her glass. “In six months, I’ll be a free woman again. And hopefully, a wealthier one, as well.” She leaned forward and patted Frannie’s hand. “I promise, if I ever get married and mean it, you can have a free hand in the gown department. Anything you like.”
Frannie smiled wryly. “Somehow, I find that promise has a hollow ring, coming from a woman who’s a more committed bachelor than most single men I know.”
“I’ll consider that a compliment.” She smiled and raised her glass. “Shall we drink to my temporary matrimonial state?”
The other women dutifully raised their glasses in a celebratory toast, but as the waitress rushed by to take their lunch orders, she had the uncomfortable feeling that neither of her friends was satisfied with the illusion she’d created.
Five
Dax stood looking out the window in the study that faced the circular driveway fronting the house. He’d believe she was really coming when he saw her.
When she told him she needed time to pack before she moved in, Dax could tell from her combative tone that Jillian expected him to object. And because he knew that was what she expected, he even gave her a week, extracting her promise to move in on Saturday. That was plenty of time, he figured, for her to get organized and get her pretty little butt into his house, where it belonged now that she had his ring on her finger.
She’d refused to give up her condo, though. She’d left almost everything there, saying she would lease it for six months...an unsubtle reminder of that stupid time limit he’d blurted out when he’d thought she was going to refuse every coercion he’d thrown at her. He’d been forced to use the threat of losing her business, and those of her friends, to get her to agree at all, and it stuck in his throat that she’d turned him into such an ogre.
Didn’t she know him well enough to know that he’d never really do any such thing?
Her ongoing enmity was beginning to get to him. Since the day she’d met Chris—the day he’d seen her flashy facade crack and the real woman who suffered behind it—he had thought less and less of how many ways he could wring her neck.
And after the way she’d overreacted again in the restaurant, he knew she was hurting. He just didn’t know why. Yet.
But right now, as they had been since he’d seen her again, his thoughts now were concerned with the gorgeous physical package she presented. He was tired of fighting the attraction, tired of pretending he didn’t want to touch, taste, feel every inch of her. He didn’t have to love her, or even like her, to want her. If “want” was the right word for the rushing, surging river of sexual desire that flooded his system every time he so much as thought about her. Or touched her. And when she was actually with him, it would be so much better...no, he wasn’t fighting it anymore.
He was going to have her.
Oh, he knew she’d agreed to this marriage with the expectation that she’d have a separate room from his. And that was fine with him.
They could romp in her bed as easily as they could in his.
Three vans, one emblazoned with a logo that read Brooks Bridals, turned up the circular drive and pulled to a stop in front of the door. Hastily, he moved away from the study window and parked himself at his desk, just in case she might think, mistakenly, that he’d been watching for her.
He heard the slamming of doors, and the chatter of women’s voices underlaid with deep masculine tones, and he bent his head over the printouts before him. The study door was open, though, and the noise spilled into the house as Jillian’s moving forces trooped in.
He caught a flash of Jillian, in something shocking pink and skimpy, and then he heard her feet on the stairs. “This way, fellas,” she called, leading them to the room he’d showed her a few days ago.
A big blond man staggered past under a load of clotheshangered garments. “Explain to me again why I have to do this? She’s your friend.”
Brown hair and lemon shorts that displayed legs he’d like to get a better look at followed the giant. “Yeah? Well, just remember—she showed you mercy when you didn’t deserve any a few years ago. If she hadn’t, you wouldn’t have lived long enough to see me again!” Both people laughed.
Two more men came by, carrying suitcases under arms, in fingers, over shoulders. Then two more. Jillian flashed by again. “Where are those tabloid photographers when you need them?” she asked the empty air. “I can see it now. Best-selling Suspense Novelist’s Marriage Wrecked By Stunning Blonde.”
“How about Mediocre Author Killed By Vengeful Wife,” said a short, dark-haired and incredibly nicely stacked woman as they passed.
Both women cackled with glee and a man out of his sight behind them said, “Hey. I take exception to that.”
Wondering just what in hell they were talking about, and who exactly was in this moving team, he got up and went to the door.
“Here.” Jillian dragged an enormous suitcase in and thrust it at him. “You take that up and I’ll get another load.”
He might have refused, but he was too curious now, so he hefted the bag and mounted the stairs. Four men passed him on the landing, giving him curious looks and a wide berth. They were all big, thick-necked and tanned. And young.
It figured.
Manhandling the heavy case through the doorway, he dropped it—hard—beside a stack of others on the floor. As he stepped back, he was aware of the examination going on.
Of him.
“Hey.” The blond man who offered his hand was even bigger up close, and he didn’t relish the thought of putting his palm against that meaty ham. But a guy had to do what a guy had to do. He went in gripping hard and quickly squeezed as powerfully as he could, then released the hand and stepped back before the man’s grip tightened.
Victory! He still had all his fingers. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Dax Piersall. Jillian’s husband,” he added, just in case there was any doubt.
“Jack Ferris.” The other man looked him over as if he was checking for fleas. “This is my wife, Frannie.”
“Hello.” He shook Frannie Ferris’s hand far more gently than he had her husband’s. She owned the legs he’d seen, and close up, she was quietly beautiful with intense brown eyes and light brown hair streaked by the summer sun. “Did I hear you say a few minutes ago that Jillian is your friend?”
Frannie nodded, giving him a small, measuring smile, and he realized these people thought of themselves as Jillian’s protectors. The very idea of Jillian needing anyone’s protection tickled his funny bone and he returned the smile widely. Then the shattered look he’d put on her face twice in the recent past came into his head, and his smile faded.
He turned to the second couple, holding out a hand. “I’m Dax. More friends of Jillian’s?”
The man stepped forward and shook his hand. He seemed far more civilized than Jack Ferris, and his grip was firm, brief and businesslike. “Ronan Sullivan. ‘Friend’ is a strong word. Jillian only tolerates me. My wife, Deirdre, is the one who claims friendship.” He reached back for his wife’s hand and she came forward.
And then Jillian reentered the room and he had no trouble erasing all other thoughts from his mind. She was wearing what looked like an exercise bra and skin-tight bike shorts in the eye-popping pink he’d seen, with chunky socks and serious sneakers that looked well broken in. He hadn’t seen her so briefly dressed before, and the impact of her slim, softly rounded shape was so forceful that he felt as if he’d staggered backward. And mentally, he had.
She was muscled in all the right places. Firm arms, taut thighs, not an extra ounce on her bare, tanned midriff. Ronan said, “Jill, I want to thank you for that outfit. And I mean that sincerely.”
Jack started to chuckle.
Jillian grinned. “I dug it out just for you, dear.”
Dax had to restrain the impulse to plant his fist squarely in the middle of the dark-haired man’s grinning face.
“Did you tell him?” she asked Ronan.
“Tell him what?”
Jillian gave a disgusted snort. “I know you’re not modest so it must be general orneriness.” Turning to Dax, she said, “Ronan is R. A. Sullivan.”
R. A. Sullivan! He recognized the novelist’s name immediately. “You’re kidding,” he said. “I read your books all the time. I have them all in hardback.”
“More pennies in his pocket,” said Jack. “Me, I wait and buy ’em when they come out in paperback.”
Ronan gave the big man a dry look. “Cheap creep.”
Then Jillian faced him again, and he saw a surprising uncertainty in her eyes. “Has everyone else been introduced?”
He nodded. “Every single one of us. Now, how much more stuff do you have crammed into those vans?”
The Bride Means Business Page 8