Married by Mistake

by Abby Gaines

  “I wasn’t jealous, I was angry,” he said calmly, but she could see a glint in his eyes. “Dad was so besotted with her, he lost all sense of balance. He lost focus at work—he’d take days off at a time to go away with her. He spent a fortune and let the business slide. Then I discovered—” He bit off his next words, pressed his lips together.

  “But things came out right?” Casey asked.

  Adam shrugged one shoulder uneasily. “When he woke up to how much trouble we were in, Dad did what he had to do. He mortgaged his house and poured money from his personal investments in to save the business and settle some of the lawsuits against the company. But he didn’t want to tell Eloise. So she kept spending. Dad had a heart attack and died six months later.” Adam paused, then delivered his damning judgment. “Because of Eloise, he lost control of the business he loved and paid for it with his life.”

  “Adam, I’m so sorry.” Casey reached across the table and took his hand. Absently, he stroked the back of hers with his thumb, drawing a tingling energy to that spot.

  “I’ve spent nearly seven years paying off the debts, getting back on top. It’s been hard work, but they’re all cleared. We’re profitable, we’re poised for major growth and we’re finally starting to attract the bigger advertisers.”

  “You love that business as much as your father did,” Casey observed. Suddenly, Adam’s single-minded pursuit of what he wanted didn’t seem selfish. It seemed like the only way he’d been able to get by.

  He pulled his hand away. “I shouldn’t have said anything—now your heart is going to bleed all over me. Forget it, Casey, it’s all in the past.”

  “If you say so,” she said doubtfully.

  “Then stop frowning.” He stroked a finger across her forehead.

  “Frowning is your thing,” she said. “Don’t tell me we’re already getting into that behave-alike married-couple thing.”

  Adam smiled reluctantly. “No chance of that.”

  * * *

  CASEY FELL IN LOVE with the Aston Martin DB9 the moment Adam started the engine. Its quiet purr, the sensation of controlled power, its smooth acceleration to speeds she’d never traveled at before—it was bliss.

  “This is wonderful, Adam. We’ll be in Parkvale in an hour at this rate,” she said in gross exaggeration as they sped northeast on I-40.

  Adam eased off the gas a fraction. “It’s a fast car,” he agreed modestly.

  They drove in silence for a while, but Casey found that when she was left alone with her thoughts, the air seemed to prickle with her awareness of Adam. To relieve the tension, she told him her theory about the Aston Martin as sublimation of his NASCAR ambitions. He snorted, but apparently didn’t consider that worthy of comment.

  “I don’t suppose you want to drive my car back to Memphis and let me take this one?” she ventured some time later.

  He started, as if she’d suggested an equal division of assets at the end of their month. “No one drives this car except me.”

  Casey sighed. “You NASCAR drivers are so selfish.” That earned another snort.

  Halfway there they stopped for gas. Relief propelled Adam out of the car. At last, a chance to put some distance between them. Didn’t Casey realize the navy linen skirt, which looked so prim and proper, rode up her thighs every time she twisted to talk to him? A guy could crash his phenomenally expensive car with that kind of distraction.

  Adam got back into the Aston Martin resolving to keep conversation—and thus thigh baring—to a minimum. But five minutes into the second half of the trip, it occurred to him he wasn’t sure what to expect in Parkvale.

  “Should I be worried about meeting your family?” he asked. “What are we going to say to them?”

  Casey twisted in her red leather seat. Adam kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

  “They won’t be there,” she said. “Karen’s not due home until later in the week. And Tuesday morning is Dad’s physical therapy. That’s why I wanted to come today,” she admitted. “I figured I’d sneak in and sneak out again.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “Mike has a summer job in Dallas. But he’s not as demanding as the other two—he’s a typical young guy, caught up in his own stuff. It’s Dad and Karen who are still calling me several times a day.”

  “We’ll have to deal with them,” Adam said. “They’re going to want to meet your husband, so we should invite them to visit, maybe for a weekend.”

  “That’s a great idea,” she said. He knew without looking she’d be beaming again.

  “The sooner you convince them you’re truly out of their lives, the sooner I’ve kept my part of our bargain.”

  “I’ll keep my part, too,” she promised.

  “I was going to talk to you about inviting Eloise over for dinner tomorrow night, so we can put on our happy couple act for her.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Casey agreed.

  “Yep,” he said. “I’m using you, you’re using me. That’s what this marriage is all about.”

  * * *

  ALTHOUGH CASEY HAD NEVER said anything bad about her family, Adam had built up a mental image of her home as an environment of daily drudgery, enlivened only by her girlish dreams.

  So he was surprised when they arrived in Parkvale and she directed him into the driveway of a freshly painted white cottage with a wisteria-draped porch.

  Inside, the furnishings were simple, and obviously not expensive, but the place had been cheerfully and imaginatively decorated. Casey was, as he might have guessed, a good homemaker.

  “It’s nice,” he said.

  She gave him a knowing grin. “What did you expect?”

  “I had no idea,” he lied. “Did you do the decorating?”

  She nodded. “I had a blitz in the spring. I thought the sight of me working might get Dad out of his armchair.”

  “Did it?”

  “Bad call,” she said, with a typical lack of resentment.

  Upon closer observation, he realized everything was coated in a thin layer of dust. In the kitchen, dishes were piled in the sink and flies hovered over a mound of food scraps on the counter.

  Casey headed toward the sink. “I might as well wash these.”

  “No, you won’t.” Adam moved quickly after her and clamped his hands on her shoulders. He turned her around, resisting the temptation to plant a kiss on the lips she’d parted in surprise. “Your father has to learn to cope without you, remember?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Tough love,” he reminded her. He released her to look at his watch. “I have a meeting at two o’clock. We need to get out of here.” He was already looking forward to two and a half hours of peace and quiet, just him and the Aston Martin.

  “You go ahead,” Casey said. “I’ll do a few things then follow in an hour or so.”

  “I’m not leaving you here to get sucked back into this family stuff. You’ve got a job to do back in Memphis.” And when she looked blank, he added, “My stepmother, tomorrow night.”

  “You can’t seriously think doing a few dishes is going to keep me here.”

  “It’s not just the dishes,” he said. “It’s the egg baked onto the stovetop, the crumbs on the floor, the—”

  Casey shuddered. “You’re right, I can’t believe I even thought about it.” She walked briskly out of the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’ll get my things together. How about you back my car out? The key’s on the hook in the kitchen.”

  Adam headed to the garage. “What the—”

  Casey’s blue Ford Fiesta might have been a peppy little car once, but not in the past twenty years. It was clean, but there were limits to how well rust scrubbed up. And while you could say the matching dents in both fenders lent it an air of symmetry, that was about all you could say.

  “I didn’t do those.” Casey came into the garage with an armload of files. She stepped in front of one of the dents, as if to shield it from view. “They were both hit-an
d-runs in the hospital parking lot when I was visiting Dad.”

  “Dangerous places, hospitals,” Adam said. He didn’t ask why she was driving this heap of junk. He knew the answer. Money. So he wasn’t about to wound her pride by suggesting they drop her car at a scrap dealer on the way out of town. “I’m following you back to Memphis.”

  Casey opened the back door and dumped the files on the seat. “Don’t be so Neanderthal. This car is perfectly safe.” She shut the door, but it didn’t catch, so she opened it again and slammed it, which caused the window to drop to half-mast. She glared when Adam directed a pointed look at it. “You are not following me back.”

  “What are you going to do?” he taunted. “Outrun me?”

  Her reply was drowned out by the sound of an engine, louder than a car’s, in the driveway outside, followed by a screech of brakes, then a crash and the shattering of glass.

  Adam had a horrible feeling he knew what that crash was. By the way Casey’s face paled and how she edged away from him, she did, too.

  Outside, doors closed with angry thuds.

  “You idiot,” a male voice yelled. “I drive all night to get you here. All I ask is that you take over for the last half hour so I can sleep, and this is what happens.”

  “You might have told me this damn truck takes ten minutes to stop after you press the brake,” a female voice accused. “What is that...that thing, anyway? Who put it there?”

  Adam pressed the button next to the light switch and the garage door opened. He stepped forward into the sunlight. “I did. And it’s an Aston Martin DB9.”

  At least, that’s what it used to be. Now it was an Aston Martin DB9 with built-in U-Haul. Adam winced at the sight of the truck wrapped around his bumper.

  The woman, who turned out to be a younger, not-so-pretty version of Casey, yelped.

  Casey ran forward. “Karen, it’s me.” She hugged her sister, and Karen stuck to her like a prickly bur. Casey shook her, but didn’t manage to detach her. “Where’s the baby? Karen, is Rosie with you?”

  “She’s with her father. He’s going to bring her down this weekend.” Karen hiccupped on a sob. “You came home,” she said. “I knew you would. Oh, Casey, thank you, thank you.” She squeezed her tighter, then said tremulously, “Is this...is this your rental car I smashed? I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anything to be in the driveway. But I’ll pay for it, I promise.” She directed a doubtful look at the Aston Martin—even in its current state, it looked like a million dollars. “Uh, did you take the insurance option on the rental?”

  Adam met Casey’s eyes over her sister’s head, which she was patting reassuringly. She gave him a breezy smile, one that said, I have this under control. It didn’t fool him. He counted to five, long enough to convince himself the damage to his car wouldn’t get any worse if he waited a few minutes to inspect it.

  “It’s my car,” he said, “I’m Adam Carmichael.” She lifted her head, looked at him blankly. He didn’t want to say it, but it was somehow easier than saying he was Casey’s husband. “Your brother-in-law.”

  She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Karen!” Casey turned to Adam. “She’s in shock from the accident, she’s not usually—”

  “Such a pain,” interjected the still visibly simmering young man who’d been standing to one side. “Yes, she is, Casey, and you know it.”

  That set Karen crying again. Casey glared at him. “Adam, this is Mike. My brother. Who can be equally painful when he chooses.”

  Mike grinned and maneuvered around Karen to give Casey a belated kiss on the cheek. Then he shook hands with Adam. “Sorry about your car. That’s one hot set of wheels. Automatic or stick shift?”

  “Stick shift.” Adam forced a smile.

  “It’s great to see you, Mike,” Casey said.

  Taking her cue from her sister, Karen said, “Mike’s been wonderful. He loaded this thing for me—” she indicated the U-Haul “—then he drove through the night. I couldn’t have done it without him.” She wrapped her arms around her brother.

  Adam suppressed a shudder. Karen was a clinging vine.

  “Did Dad tell you I was coming today?” Karen asked. “It’s so cool you’re here to help.”

  Adam could see alarm in Casey’s eyes. They hadn’t survived a wedding and a honeymoon for her to give in now.

  “My wife and I—” that turned out to be easier to say than he expected “—are due back in Memphis right away.”

  Karen looked around as if she was trying to figure out who Adam’s wife was.

  “So Casey and I,” Adam clarified, “can’t help you.”

  Casey shifted from one foot to the other. “Adam, that’s a little harsh. I can stay a few hours.”

  He mouthed something at her, and Casey recognized the words tough love. She bit her lip. He was right. Postponing by two or three hours what Karen would see as her abandonment wouldn’t change anything.

  She cleared her throat. “We’re not staying, Karen.” She stepped closer to Adam. He locked her hand in his, and she sent him a startled glance. That’s right, they were pretending this marriage was genuine.

  Tears filled Karen’s eyes again.

  Adam tightened his grip on Casey’s hand and eyeballed Mike.

  “Casey has to go,” Mike told Karen. “I’ll help you unload.” Adam continued to stare at him, until the younger man said, “I’ll stay on a couple of days until you’re settled.”

  Karen nodded, dragged her sleeve across her eyes in a curiously childish gesture. “I—I love you, Casey.”

  How the hell was Adam supposed to compete with that? Karen must know it was exactly what her sister wanted to hear. He couldn’t tighten his grip on Casey any more without hurting her. He settled for caressing the finger that bore his mother’s wedding ring.

  “I love you, too, sweetie,” Casey said. “Too much to stay.”

  She was shaking as she turned away from Karen. Adam wrapped an arm around her, shepherded her to inspect the damage to his car. It wasn’t too bad—drivable despite broken taillights and a dented bumper. At his request, Mike moved the U-Haul onto the lawn to clear the driveway.

  “Go pack some clothes,” Adam told Casey. “I’ll get the Aston Martin out of the way, then I’ll move that thing you call a car out of the garage.”

  The Fiesta started first try, which was something. Adam drove it outside, moved the driver’s seat back to where he thought Casey had had it, then got out. When he walked around the back of the Fiesta, he got an eyeful of the sticker fixed to the back bumper.

  Honk If You Think I’m Sexy.

  He was still trying to convince himself it couldn’t really say anything so tacky, when Casey emerged from the house lugging a suitcase and a carry-all that was almost bursting at the seams.

  “What is this?” He pointed at the offending sticker. “Let me guess, it’s affirming?”

  Her smile, shaky after the encounter with Karen, told him he’d got it in one.

  “It was Brodie-Ann’s idea,” she said. “And I must admit, it works.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet it does. Brodie-Ann has a lot to answer for. Are you ready?”

  “Yep. I left a note for Dad to say I’ll call him about getting us all together.”

  Adam stowed Casey’s bags in the Fiesta’s trunk while she detached herself from a prolonged goodbye hug with Karen. He waited until she was out of the driveway before he headed for his own car.

  Casey drove off at a speed that could charitably be called sedate. More like a snail’s pace. Adam sighed as he turned his key in the ignition of the Aston Martin. This would be a long trip.

  He pulled out his cell phone; he needed to call his secretary and cancel his two-o’clock meeting, then phone his insurance company. At this speed, driving one-handed presented no problems.

  Within three blocks, the honking started.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ADAM’S BRIEF HAD BEEN simple. His stepmother would come for dinner
. Adam and Casey would act loving, which according to him meant he would call her darling and hold her hand. They’d have an excellent meal, served by the efficient Mrs. Lowe, then Eloise would go home, fully deluded that her stepson had done what she wanted and married a woman he loved. And the logical outcome was that she would stay out of Adam’s life. No more party planning, no more introductions to eligible women, no more bridefest.

  “How will she feel when we get an annulment?” Casey had asked.

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Adam!” His callousness shocked Casey.

  “What?”

  She narrowed her eyes, and he threw up his hands. “All right, she might be disappointed at first. But by then I’ll have a plan in place for dealing with Aunt Anna May’s lawsuit, the business will be secure and Eloise will see it’s all good.”

  The finality of it silenced Casey. “If you’re sure,” she said at last.

  “Quite sure. I know my stepmother. Don’t worry, this plan is perfect.”

  * * *

  OH, YEAH?

  Adam had reckoned without his wife’s ability to disrupt his arrangements, Casey thought grimly, as Mrs. Lowe, back ramrod straight, stalked out the front door and climbed into a waiting taxi.

  How had this happened? All Casey had done was offer to make dessert, and the housekeeper had taken off her apron and said with chilly politeness, “Mrs. Carmichael, I am not used to having my work questioned. You may no longer require my services, but many other people do. I will leave now, and I will telephone Mr. Carmichael to send on my wages.”

  Ten minutes later, she was gone.

  The kitchen clock showed quarter to six. Casey’s new mother-in-law—or was she a stepmother-in-law?—was due in fifteen minutes, and right now dinner comprised a half-assembled hors d’oeuvres tray, several piles of chopped vegetables and a bowl of marinating meat.

  This was all Adam’s fault, she thought crossly. He’d promised to be home by five-thirty. If he’d been on time, he could have cajoled Mrs. Lowe into staying.

  Reluctantly, Casey decided to phone him and confess. It would mean facing his anger sooner rather than later, but at least he could call Eloise and ask her to postpone. By tomorrow, Casey could whip up a decent meal.