His Marriage Bonus

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Isn’t that a little cold-blooded?” Lauren moved so she was standing directly in front of him. Her heels planted firmly on the pavement beneath her, she splayed her hands on her hips. “I mean, you’re practically predicting that the marriage won’t work out.”

  Mitch studied Lauren’s upturned face. Despite the long day and even longer evening, she was as lovely as ever. He studied the windswept disarray of her golden-brown hair, the flushed color in her cheeks, the sparkle in her dark brown eyes. “That’s what I thought the first time. That’s why I didn’t ask for one. Now,” he said, carefully underscoring every word, “I would.”

  Lauren arched her delicate eyebrows in pointed disagreement. “Well, I wouldn’t.”

  “Then you’d be a fool,” Mitch said, refusing to pull his punches just to protect her feelings. “Because if you did marry and it didn’t last, you could very well lose the mansion at 10 Gathering Street you’ve been working so hard to own, as well as a big chunk of any money or stock you have now.”

  A pulse throbbed in Lauren’s neck as she regarded him in silence, clearly wanting to trust his judgment on the matter but not quite able to. “Marriage isn’t a business arrangement, Mitch,” she said heatedly at last.

  Mitch shrugged his shoulders uncaringly. “If you ask me,” he returned gruffly, “it should be.” Business was safe. Romance wasn’t.

  Lauren shook her head, her disappointment in him plain. “Speaking of business,” she said, her voice turning light, “our date was over almost half an hour ago.”

  Mitch did his best to contain his disappointment. There, for a while, he had been hoping this arranged courtship of theirs would lead to something even better than the financial rewards they had both been promised for participating. “I guess I better get you home then,” he said at last.

  “I guess you better,” Lauren agreed, already turning away.

  They drove back to her place in silence. Mitch wondered what Lauren was thinking, but she remained moody and distant and gave him no clue.

  “I don’t suppose we could subtract the extra hour tonight from the date tomorrow,” Lauren said as Mitch parked at the curb.

  Mitch shook his head. Assured of her attention, he turned to her and continued, “It’s not in the oral contract we made with your father. I think the overtime is on us.”

  Lauren wrinkled her nose in aggravation. “I really wish my father hadn’t put us in such a straitjacket in terms of this dating business. Even though I know full well why he felt he had to.”

  Warning bells went off in Mitch’s head at the combination of regret and wistfulness in Lauren’s low voice. Was she getting ready to confide in him, too? Or just thinking about the things she would still rather he not know? he wondered as he walked her to her front door. “Why?”

  Lauren shrugged and seemed to pull back just as they reached the porch. “It’s just the way my dad is,” she stated, suddenly getting a faraway look in her eyes. “He’s very protective of the people he loves. He always sheltered me when I was a kid. When my mother died of an aneurysm when I was eighteen, he became even more vigilant.”

  Mitch and his siblings had been given free rein at an early age—fostering independence in their children was one of the many things their parents had done right. “That must be difficult for you,” Mitch empathized.

  Lauren’s pouty lower lip curled ruefully as she studied the toe of her shoe. “He says he just wants to see I’m taken care of in case anything ever happens to him. But unfortunately,” she finished unhappily as she plucked her house keys from her handbag, “to him that means he wants to make all my decisions for me, right down to choosing my husband and setting the terms of my marriage.”

  Ouch, Mitch thought, understanding full well why Lauren would be peeved about that. “I agree your father’s off the mark in what he’s trying to do, in hooking the two of us up together permanently. I mean, if we wanted to marry for business reasons, it would be one thing. We’re responsible adults. We’re free to do what we choose. But to have someone decide that for us—well,” he finished wryly, “let’s just say it’s not a recommended strategy for any parent to pursue.”

  “Even if my father’s heart is in the right place and his business reasons are solid?” Lauren questioned curiously.

  “Even then,” Mitch affirmed.

  Lauren tilted her head to the side and evaluated Mitch thoughtfully a moment longer. “What about you, Mitch?” she asked lightly. “Where is your heart? Is it in the right place, too?”

  Mitch had to say this for her—Lauren didn’t mince words when it came to examining his motives. And he admired her for it. Even as he refused to let her imply what was or wasn’t behind his actions. “I admit I undertook this week-long venture for purely capitalistic reasons,” he said. “But you should know that’s changed. I am interested in you.” Even though he couldn’t yet trust her in every respect. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have told her everything he had tonight. He wouldn’t have opened up his heart to her.

  For a moment Lauren didn’t seem to breathe or move. Then she collected herself and shrugged her slender shoulders. “I’m afraid, under the circumstances, Mitch, that I can’t be interested in you,” she said just as frankly. “Not that way. Our private agendas are just too diverse.”

  Disappointment unlike anything he’d ever felt washed through Mitch. “The kisses you gave me earlier say differently,” Mitch pointed out.

  Before he could take her in his arms again, Lauren levered a hand against his chest, preventing an instant replay of the same. “Combining romance with business was a mistake,” she told him coolly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an early morning.”

  So did Mitch. For once, it didn’t matter. He knew where he wanted to be, and that was right here with Lauren. But, having been reared a gentleman, he graciously took the hint, accepted her time-out and let the evening end. “Tomorrow then?” he said, knowing he would make the most of that date, too, and every one after.

  Lauren nodded.

  “Any idea what you want to do?” Mitch asked. Suddenly, the week Payton Heyward had arbitrarily decided upon was not nearly long enough. Maybe because Mitch was no longer simply marking time with Lauren.

  Lauren sent him a brisk, officious smile that should have discouraged Mitch completely. It didn’t.

  “How about I e-mail you by around four-thirty or so tomorrow afternoon?” she said. “By then, one of us should have a plan.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I’m glad we could get together,” Mitch told Ron Ingalls the next day as they met for lunch at a popular seafood place. Mitch had been in business long enough to know there was no limit to the information that could be garnered via small talk in a relaxed setting.

  “I am, too.” Ron looked trim and fit as always as he paused to place his order with the waiter and then handed over a notebook emblazoned with the Ingalls Shipbuilding, Inc., logo. The CEO smiled at Mitch as he began his pitch. “In addition to the details you requested, I’ve also enclosed information on a container ship that is nearing completion. It was built to spec for someone else but it’s top of the line.”

  Mitch scanned the specifications with interest, noting that the ship was indeed state of the art. “When is it going to be ready?”

  “A few weeks.” Ron steepled his hands together and leaned forward energetically. “To be perfectly honest, I’d be willing to make a deal on it.”

  Mitch would have liked to purchase it. But until his father and he agreed on how to use that year’s expansion money, Mitch realized with disappointment, it would not be possible.

  Deciding to work the conversation around to the real reason for the business lunch—his desire to know why there had been so many phone calls between Lauren and Ron Ingalls of late—Mitch put the folder down and asked casually, “Have you offered the ship to Payton Heyward?”

  “No.”

  This was a surprise, since Payton Heyward bought ships only from Ingalls’s operation and the
Deveraux bought them from several different companies. “Why not?” Mitch asked flatly.

  Ron hesitated uncomfortably, then still appearing wary of revealing too much, said reluctantly, “Because Payton Heyward’s the one who changed his mind about buying the ship.”

  Mitch didn’t have to feign concern. This was a very disturbing development because it could mean that he and his father’s hunch about Payton Heyward being in some kind of trouble was right on the money. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?” Mitch asked casually as he broke open a warm roll.

  “Very,” Ron conceded. “In all the time I’ve been selling his company ships, he’s never canceled an order for a vessel until now.”

  Mitch sat back in his chair as the waiter placed their plates in front of them. “Did he say why?”

  Ron shrugged. “He said that he thought he might have overextended the company a bit. He bought two ships from us last spring. To add a third was maybe expanding a little too fast. So he forfeited the deposit and canceled the order.”

  “That’s too bad.” Mitch cut into his crabmeat-stuffed sea trout.

  “Yes, it is.” Ron acknowledged sympathetically. “But I understand. Better to walk away now than get himself in bigger trouble later.”

  Especially when you might have found a way to bail yourself out financially through a merger—and maybe even a marriage—to another company, Mitch thought sardonically. Deciding he didn’t know Ron well enough to be able to judge whether or not the shipbuilder was involved in any ruse the Heywards might be perpetrating on the Deveraux, Mitch kept the small talk firmly on track. “How does Ron like the ships he did buy?”

  Ron brightened at the opportunity to continue his sales pitch. “He loves ’em. In fact, I’m playing golf with him later today.”

  Score one for Payton. “Is his daughter joining you?” Mitch asked casually.

  Ron appeared surprised by the question. “Lauren? No. She’s not really all that wild about the sport, although she can wield a pretty mean club when she has a mind to.”

  Mitch had no doubt of that. If Lauren played golf with anywhere near the expertise she sold real estate or kissed, she was likely to be an ace on the greens. “Then you’ve played with her before,” Mitch presumed, taking a bite of perfectly prepared asparagus.

  “Oh, yes.” Ron grinned with what appeared to be genuine affection. “Occasionally she tags along on one of our golf and business outings just because her father asks her, but I can always tell her heart isn’t really in it, that she’d rather be somewhere else, doing something—anything—else.”

  Which could mean, Mitch thought, that Lauren was being strong-armed into helping her father.

  Then again, it could also mean that she was so truly disinterested in the family shipping business that her father had decided to do an end run around her. Without any knowledge on her part whatsoever.

  “I gather you know her?” Ron asked.

  Mitch nodded and revealed a little more. “We’ve been getting acquainted socially,” he said honestly. “She’s showing some houses to my mother, trying to help her find a place here in Charleston.”

  Ron signaled the waiter for some coffee. “Well, if anyone can do it, Lauren can.”

  Mitch paused as their plates were cleared away, dessert menus handed out, two orders of the restaurant’s famous pecan-rum pie placed. “Has she ever sold you any property?”

  Ron nodded as the waiter filled their coffee cups. “She helped me find a vacation home down at Hilton Head on one of the golf courses. The negotiations were complicated—it required great subtlety and skill on her part to get me what I wanted at the price I wanted to pay, and it wasn’t even her territory or area of expertise. But her father had asked her to help me out, so she hung in there like a trooper, driving back and forth as necessary until the deal was done. When it was all over, she told me I was going to owe her a pretty big favor. Sure enough—” Ron grinned, remembering “—not too long ago she called me to collect.”

  Mitch wanted to believe Lauren was innocent of any skulduggery behind the scenes. But if “the favor” wasn’t connected to the shipbuilding business, what could Lauren have wanted from Ron? She didn’t seem to need any more clients herself.

  Mitch waited, but to his frustration no further information was forthcoming. “Were you able to help her out?” he asked eventually.

  Ron sipped his coffee, a concerned look on his face. “I’ve been trying. I haven’t been able to manage what she wants me to do for her father quite yet. But there’s still time for me to pull it off. Now, back to that container ship I’ve got in inventory, and the deal I’d like to propose to you…”

  “HAVE YOU HEARD from my father yet?” Mitch asked Jack Granger as soon as he got back to the office. He wanted to run Ron Ingalls’s proposed deal by Tom—the figures on the container ship were that good. And although it could be part of a complicated ruse to win the ongoing competition between the Heyward and Deveraux shipping firms, it could also be exactly what it appeared to be—a real bargain, and exactly what the Deveraux Shipping Company needed to expand its business. Until Mitch knew for sure, or had at least run the proposal by his father and gotten his opinion on the situation, Mitch wasn’t closing any doors.

  Jack shook his head, his expression abruptly becoming closed and unreadable. “Nothing since yesterday morning’s e-mail,” Jack murmured as he busied himself with the papers on his desk.

  “This isn’t like him,” Mitch said, walking farther into Jack’s office and shutting the door behind him.

  Jack leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “It has been a long time since your dad’s taken any vacation. Maybe he just needed a break,” Jack said.

  Mitch disagreed. Something had to be wrong for his father to take off like that and remain incommunicado. And to his mounting frustration, he had the feeling the firm’s attorney knew more about what that reason might be than Mitch did. Feeling more stymied than ever, Mitch returned to his office and checked his e-mail. On it was a note from Lauren, replying to his e-mail earlier that morning. It read:

  Mitch,

  Thanks for suggesting such a nice restaurant, but a bit of a personal emergency has come up, so our date tonight is going to be more like a work session. Wear old clothes and meet me at my house at six. I’ll explain then and provide dinner.

  Lauren

  Mitch stared at the computer screen, wondering what the emergency was, and if it related to either her family’s business or his, or even to the golf date her father was having with Ron Ingalls that very moment. Knowing the only way to find out would be to spend as much time as possible with her, learning as much as possible, Mitch hurried through the rest of his own business agenda. Like it or not, he was going to have to continue investigating Lauren—and her father, too. Something was driving the urgency behind Payton’s actions. He had to find out what it was. Only then would he know whether he was free to pursue Lauren the way he wanted to pursue her—which was full out, with nothing and no one standing in their way.

  By five o’clock, a cold front had moved in from the north, dropping the temperature twenty degrees. The skies were dark and the air was scented with impending rain. Trying not to view it as a sign of a disastrous evening ahead, Mitch went home to change and then headed over to Lauren’s.

  He arrived a little before six. He wasn’t surprised to see that parked cars lined both sides of the street—that was usually the case in the historic district. He was stunned to see the tall wrought-iron gate that blocked her driveway was closed and locked, her car nowhere in sight. This meant she probably was going to be late for their date again.

  Determined to be on time even if she wasn’t, Mitch drove on. Finally finding a space nearly two blocks from her house, he parked and headed back in the direction from which he’d come. As he walked, it began to rain, lightly at first, then more heavily. Cursing his lack of either umbrella or jacket, he hurried on. And that was when he saw Lauren.

  Despit
e her admonition that he dress casually, she was still wearing a sexy mint-green business suit that made the most of her slender, curvaceous figure. She had her back to him and her arms were full of packages, including a cardboard gift box some five feet long. A cell phone pressed to her ear, she was talking in a light flirtatious voice as she struggled to put her packages down on the stoop without dropping them. Telling himself he was doing them both a favor if he could exonerate her from any charges of wrongdoing by eavesdropping, Mitch ducked under the canopy of a large shade tree.

  “…I know this isn’t the way you usually operate…” Lauren’s voice floated out to him. “But the utmost secrecy is important for obvious reasons until I tell you otherwise.” She listened intently to the person on the other end of the connection. “Yes. Absolutely. I agree with you entirely. No one must know that we’ve been in contact with each other because then they’d know immediately what we’re up to.”

  I wish I knew, Mitch thought.

  “Yes, I agree,” Lauren continued in a crisp, businesslike tone. “You and I are going to have to coordinate this precisely for maximum effect. I don’t have all the details yet, but as soon as I can pin down the arrangements on this end, I’ll let you know and we can go from there.” She laughed softly. “I really appreciate what you’re going to do for us, and I know my father will, too. He’s convinced this will really help business. Now, don’t underestimate yourself, Lance. Everyone knows you’re the best in your field. All right. Yes. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

  She turned slightly and caught sight of Mitch lingering beneath the trees next to the sidewalk. Startled, she pressed a hand to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come up,” she said, looking all flushed.