His Marriage Bonus

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Wondering who the hell “Lance” was and about his secret connection to Lauren, Mitch pushed away from the trunk of the tree and walked through the rain to her front porch.

  Years of practice helped him keep his tumultuous emotions well hidden as he smiled at her and explained casually, “I didn’t want to interrupt.” He helped her with her packages while she unlocked the front door. “Your call seemed important.” As did whatever skulduggery you were trying to arrange.

  “It was.” Looking both relaxed and relieved, Lauren led the way inside. “I’ve been trying to get hold of that person for days now.”

  Again, Mitch waited for Lauren to tell him more. Again, to his frustration, Lauren didn’t elaborate.

  A distracted look on her face, she picked up the long cardboard box that upon closer inspection bore the words The Golf Emporium, opened it and pulled out a putter. “What do you think?” She slipped off her jacket, revealing an ivory silk shell and a single strand of pearls, and gave the golf club a few practice swings. “Do you think my dad is going to like this? I had it made specially for him—for his birthday.”

  Mitch tore his eyes from the swiveling motion of her hips as she perfected her stance. He turned his eyes to the silky skin and well-toned muscle on her bare arms. “He should love it.” As well as whatever else it is you are doing for him behind the scenes.

  “I hope so.” Lauren sighed. She turned to Mitch, an earnest look on her face as she stepped out of her shoes and walked around in her stocking feet. “He’s a very difficult man to buy for.” She cupped her hands around the club and looked up at Mitch. “I mean, he already has everything he wants. Or almost everything.”

  Wondering what it was about her that made him want to haul her into his arms and kiss her whenever he was near her, Mitch folded his arms in front of him and replied, “Everything except you involved in the family shipping company.”

  Or are you already working to accomplish this in a very clever, clandestine way? Mitch wondered uneasily. Lauren seemed so sweet and guileless in unguarded moments like this, that he didn’t want to think it was true. But on the other hand…he’d been a chump once with his ex-wife, ignoring the signs of potential trouble there. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again with Lauren.

  “My father knows I’m not cut out to run the company,” Lauren said as she put the golf club back in its box. Abruptly, resentment burned like fire in her dark brown eyes. “That’s why he wants me to marry someone like you. So if and when he does decide to retire someday he’ll have someone in the family to watch out for my financial interests.”

  Or even run the company for you, Mitch thought, wondering once again if Payton Heyward’s offer of a secret dowry was on the up-and-up. Did Lauren really not know about it? And if not, what business-related secret meant to please her father was she busy arranging with Lance? Had she learned Heyward Shipping was in trouble and was trying to simultaneously save it and bail Payton out without having to resort to marrying Mitch? That, Mitch thought, would at least make sense and square with everything he already thought he knew about Lauren.

  Still regarding him thoughtfully, Lauren bit into her lower lip. “You know, you’re really kind of wet,” Lauren said, fingering his soggy sweatshirt. “And you look like you feel absolutely miserable.”

  Mitch did, but not for the reasons she was thinking.

  “Why don’t you take off your sweatshirt and I’ll throw it in the dryer for a few minutes,” Lauren suggested cheerfully.

  Figuring the distraction would help keep her off her guard, Mitch tugged it obediently over his head.

  Lauren gave his chest the once-over and grinned, as if at some private joke.

  “What?” Mitch asked as he cradled his damp shirt in his hands.

  Lauren’s lips took on a mischievous curve. “I should have known the T-shirt underneath your sweatshirt was going to be gray, too, given how much you seem to like that particular color.”

  “Give me a break.” Mitch picked up her light mood. “Do you know how many gray shirts there are in South Carolina?” As well as guys with the first name of Lance?

  “Lots.” Lauren gave him a flirtatious glance then set her cell phone down on the table and slipped into the guest bath tucked beneath the stairs. She came back out and handed him a towel. “But there are lots of other colors, too.” Lauren took his sweatshirt and carried it back to the kitchen. She opened a folding door, revealing a washer and dryer, stacked one on top of the other. “I bet you don’t have any,” she teased.

  “I have black and white T-shirts.” As Mitch ran the towel over his hair, it was all he could do not to cast a look over his shoulder at the cell phone still lying on the table. “Navy blue, too.”

  “But your favorite is gray.” Lauren switched on the dryer and turned back to him.

  “You got me there,” Mitch admitted, admiring the way her golden-brown hair fetchingly framed her oval face before falling softly to her shoulders. “So what’s happening?” Mitch leaned against the kitchen counter, surveying her indolently. He wondered if there was any way he could check out her cell phone and see if it was a model that listed previous calls made and received, too. “What was the personal emergency you talked about in your e-mail?” Was that in any way connected to Lance?

  “I had some bad news.” Lauren fiddled with an earring and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I got the estimates from the electric and plumbing contractors today. It’s going to cost an arm and a leg to get 10 Gathering Street in livable shape again. There’s no way I can do it without my father’s funds.”

  Mitch shrugged. “You pretty much knew that going in, didn’t you?” Which was what made even messing with the renovation such a bad business move, in his estimation. She would never get back out what she put into it.

  Lauren made a face as she led the way back into the foyer and up the stairs to the second floor. “Let’s just say I had hoped otherwise. Anyway,” she said as she went straight to her closet and pulled out several large suitcases and an oversize canvas laundry bag. “I think I’ve come up with a way to get the funds.”

  Mitch bypassed her antique four-poster bed, with the mountain of pillows and lavender silk Jacquard coverlet. “And that’s what—marry me?”

  The stubborn look returned to Lauren’s face as she opened a suitcase and began methodically transferring the contents of her dresser drawers into it. “Get real. No, I’m not going to let my father manipulate me into marriage. I’m going to rent my place out and move into 10 Gathering Street tonight. That way, my mortgage here will be taken care of and I can put any money I earn into renovations.”

  Not sure what he could do at this point except keep her company, Mitch sat down on the edge of her bed. “But it’s a mess over there.” Regardless of what she might or might not be trying to do to him and his company, Mitch hated to think of Lauren living in a mansion with drafty rooms, a leaky roof and decades of ground-in dirt. Adding a construction mess would make it even worse. “If you do it a room at a time, it’ll take years,” he continued, thinking of the twenty-four-room mansion.

  “I’ve got time.” Lauren shut one drawer and opened another.

  “And you’re going to have to find somebody to rent this place.” Which was a shame, Mitch thought, tearing his eyes from the flimsy transparent-lace undergarments in her hands, because this warm and cozy residence—or someplace like it—was where she should be.

  Finished, Lauren went over to the closet and brought out a filled shoe rack. “I already have.” She began stuffing her shoes into the cloth laundry bag.

  That was fast, Mitch thought. And though he didn’t agree with what Lauren was doing, he did admire the way she was taking charge of her destiny. He went over to help her with a second shoe rack. “Who?”

  “Your mother. And, by the way, she’s moving in tonight, which is why we have to hurry and get my clothes out of here.”

  Mitch abruptly stopped what he was doing. He straightened and looked over at her.
“You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” Lauren began taking clothes on hangers out of the closet, too, and laying them on the chaise. “We went out looking at property again this morning and she just didn’t like anything she saw, so Grace said to heck with it, she was just going to rent a place until she could find what she wanted. I told her I thought it was a good idea. And I thought her idea to rent my place was even better.”

  Mitch did his best to ignore the tantalizing scent of Lauren’s perfume. “My mother suggested that?”

  “No,” Lauren announced proudly. “I did. But Grace readily agreed. Her only stipulation was that she be able to move in tonight because she just can’t spend one more night under the same roof as your father, and I said okay.”

  Mitch stared at Lauren, not sure what to say to that. “The last I saw, they were getting along well enough, all things considered.” At least until his father had gone out of town without any warning or explanation.

  Lauren paused long enough to give Mitch a compassionate glance. “Apparently sharing space again has been a little more difficult than either your mother or father thought it was going to be,” she stated gently. “And since Tom won’t hear of Grace moving to a hotel, and Grace doesn’t want Tom moving to one again, never mind making up excuses to be out of town and out of touch, this is the best solution. Besides, your mother thinks she’ll be happier in her own place again. Until that happens, this is a good solution.”

  Mitch had the feeling the situation was even more complicated than his mother was admitting, either to Lauren or to him. For one thing, his father could have come up with a legitimate business trip, if he just wanted time to himself. Instead, Tom had opted to go off without a word of explanation to anyone in the family. If his normally businesslike father was reacting this emotionally to whatever it was, it meant there was big trouble brewing below the surface. The kind his mother seemed to bracing for, too.

  Unfortunately, because his parents refused to confide in him, Mitch was as powerless to help either of his parents now as he had been when he was in his teens and they had split up. Reluctantly, he turned his attention to Lauren and the problems she was setting herself up for. “What about when my mother moves out?” he asked.

  Lauren shrugged. “Then I’ll lease it out again, to someone else.”

  Reminded of the seemingly impetuous way his mother had moved out on the family years ago, Mitch said quietly, “I don’t approve of any of this. I want you to change your mind and tell my mom the ‘lease’ is off.”

  Lauren’s eyes flashed. “It’s not up to you to approve or disapprove of anything I do, Mitch, any more than it is my father’s,” she told him heatedly. “I am my own woman.”

  Mitch wasn’t disagreeing with that—Lauren was her own woman and then some. That didn’t mean he intended to let her ride roughshod over him and his feelings the way his ex-wife had. Mitch gave her a stern look. “I mean it, Lauren,” he warned, closing the distance between them autocratically. “I won’t have you meddling in my family’s affairs.”

  Lauren arched an eyebrow at him. “And how are you going to stop me?”

  “Like this,” Mitch said, deciding it was past time they had turned their attention where it should be—to the two of them! Grabbing her by the waist, he tugged her toward him so swiftly she barely had time to gasp her indignation before he fit their bodies together like two interlocking pieces of a puzzle, tunneled a hand through her hair, tilted her head back and lifted her lips to his.

  Their mouths met in an explosion of heat and passion, their tongues mating in an erotic dance that was sexier and more enticingly erotic than anything he had ever experienced. He kissed her again, a kiss brimming with an emotion and hunger he hadn’t known he possessed. Lauren moaned, a soft helpless little sound in the back of her throat that sent his senses swimming. Loving the way she felt against him, all soft and warm and womanly, Mitch pressed her hips against his, deepening the kiss even more, wanting her to feel, and to need, exactly the way he was. Her mouth was pliant beneath his, warm and sexy, her body soft, supple, surrendering. And then all restraint faded. She whispered his name. Their kisses turned even hotter, more explicit. Groaning, he slid his hands beneath the hem of her blouse, to the silky skin beneath. She surged against him, and his hands moved higher still, over the slenderness of her ribs, to her lace-covered breasts. Still kissing her rapaciously, he caressed her through the fabric, feeling her nipples tighten beneath his palms. Lauren made another soft, mewling sound of pleasure. And still it wasn’t enough. Would never be enough until she understood just how much he wanted her, how right this felt….

  This hadn’t been part of the deal they’d made. Lauren knew that. And yet, as Mitch rained kisses across her throat, behind her ear, and captured her lips once again, she couldn’t seem to stop. Any more than she could not respond to the voluptuousness of his kiss or the feel of his hot, hard body next to hers. She knew they’d come together for all the wrong reasons. This was an arranged courtship, for heaven’s sake! An extension of a business deal! And yet she wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him.

  Not just like this…

  Not just kissing, with his hands on her body and his arousal pressed up hard against her. But naked. In her bed. Stretched out overtop her. Taking her. Making her his, for now, for forever. And it was that thought, more than anything, of the two of them joined together hotly, passionately, irrevocably, that swiftly had Lauren gasping and coming up for air.

  She stared at Mitch, still breathing hard—still wanting him so much! He stared back.

  And that was when the doorbell rang.

  Mitch tensed, sighed, swore.

  Lauren used his distraction to put her hands on his chest and ease away. “Saved by the bell,” she said lightly as his incredibly talented hands slipped once more to the outside of her blouse. And then away.

  “Temporarily, anyway,” Mitch murmured, letting her know with a long glance that their kisses were not over. Not anywhere near over, interruption or not.

  Her face flaming, her heart still pounding, Lauren smoothed her clothing as best she was able over her tingling body and dashed down the steps. Mitch was right behind her. Grateful for the interruption—for who knew what romantic foolhardiness it had prevented!—Lauren swung open the door and found Mitch’s mother on the doorstep with her suitcases, ready to move in.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace took one look at Mitch, and said, “I can tell you don’t approve of this arrangement.”

  Mitch shrugged. “If you want my opinion, I think you and Dad are both behaving impulsively.”

  Lauren moved between the two. “And I think you, Mitch Deveraux, are taking your mother’s moving in here a little too seriously,” she said, glaring at him on his mother’s—and her own—behalf.

  “After all, it’s only a temporary arrangement,” Grace said.

  Temporary arrangements could do a lot of damage, Mitch thought as he picked up his mother’s suitcases and carried them just inside the door. Take his week of dating Lauren, for instance. He’d thought that would be a snap, but here it was, only Wednesday, the third night into their bargain, and already he was in way over his head. Fighting feelings of desire and need that surpassed anything he had ever felt before. Despite the fact he wasn’t sure yet that he should even trust her, at least when it came to their family shipping businesses.

  “What about your relationship with Dad?” Mitch demanded of his mother as he set the suitcases out of their way.

  Grace dropped her handbag onto the secretary next to Lauren’s front door. “What about it?”

  “I thought the two of you were trying to be friends again,” Mitch reminded her. What had happened to that?

  Grace stiffened with tension as she pivoted back to Mitch. “We were—are.”

  “Then…?” Mitch asked, wishing more than anything his mother would let him help her find her way back to his father so their family could be healed—and whole—again in a way it hadn’t been sin
ce Grace and Tom’s divorce.

  A flicker of hurt crossed Grace’s face. “It’s not as easy as it seems.” She folded her arms defiantly. “There are things you don’t understand.”

  Mitch released a long-held breath and continued to fight for patience. “Then tell me so I can,” he demanded brusquely, knowing no problem ever got solved unless the person or persons struggling with it wanted to solve it.

  Grace was silent. Finally, she touched a hand to her elegantly done blond hair in a classic evasive gesture and said, “I think you need to worry about your own love life and forget about mine.”

  At this point, thanks to Lauren’s meddling, his was even worse. Mitch glared at Lauren. “You’re going to help her do this even though I think it’s a mistake?” he asked, making no effort to hide his resentment.

  Lauren nodded, refusing to back down.

  “Fine.” Mitch threw up his hands in frustration, turned his back on both women and stalked out the door. Just because they were making a gargantuan mistake that was damn near guaranteed to further his parents’ continued estrangement when they finally had a real chance to get back together again, did not mean he had to be part of it.

  Lauren followed him as far as the edge of the porch and lounged against a pillar. She waited until he was halfway down the sidewalk before drawling, “Forgetting something?”

  Mitch sighed, barely able to contain his restlessness as he swung back around to face her. “What?” he barked out.

  Lauren gave him a smart smile. “Our date.”

  AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, Lauren had had enough. “How long are you going to continue to sulk?” she asked Mitch as they carried her belongings into 10 Gathering Street. It had stopped raining and the air was clean and fresh.

  Mitch shifted the box of her belongings in his arms as she led the way up the once-elegant front staircase. “I’m not sulking.”

  “Okay, then.” Lauren carried her portable stereo and case of compact discs into the bedroom and bath suite she had selected as her temporary quarters, and put them on the floor next to the portable TV she’d brought. “How long are you going to show your disapproval?”