by Lori Foster
Marrying for the sake of his reputation didn’t put him at risk. He wasn’t expected to offer love everlasting, and he wouldn’t be obliged to start a family.
But if Dana expected a real marriage, that would change everything. What if it turned out he was more like his father than he thought?
“R.J.? I have a question.”
Her tone sounded reasonable enough. Which he considered good cause for worry. “Go ahead.”
“How long, exactly, do you expect this marriage to last?”
“There’s no way I can predict that, Dana.” And if he was truthful with himself, even trying to speculate on an answer was a lesson in keen frustration. Right now, he had all the frustration he could stand.
“But you do have a certain term in mind, don’t you?” Her eyes were narrowed again, making the green brighter, more intense. Her pen tapped against the desktop. “Do you think things can be repaired in a week, a month, six months?”
He pushed away from the desk with repressed anger. “How the hell should I know? It took little enough time to destroy my reputation, but somehow I think it’ll take considerably longer to mend it.”
“You’re probably right.” Her gaze stayed glued to him as he strode across the room. “Which brings up another interesting thought. Do you plan to stay celibate during our marriage, or am I simply supposed to look the other way?”
He whirled to face her, thoroughly insulted at such a suggestion. “Being an adulterer would hardly improve my image.”
“Oh? Then you do intend to remain celibate, even if it takes a year.”
“I—” The protest died before it was spoken. He actually hadn’t thought his plan through that far, so how could he take offense at her presumption that he wouldn’t honor his wedding vows? When he’d come up with the idea to marry, it had been a near desperate decision. Though he didn’t want the world to know it, it ate him up inside that the residents of Austin were beginning to see him as indulgent and reprehensible, an immoral reprobate who would blithely walk away from a woman carrying his child. The image sickened him and dredged up old feelings left over from childhood, from knowing his father hadn’t cared enough, hadn’t been responsible enough to fulfill even the smallest obligations to his children.
The turbulent memories were swept away as Dana once again stood, very slowly, to face him. “I’ve always known I was a plain woman.”
R.J. glared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s just occurred to me. You don’t want to sleep with me for the same reason you chose me to proposition.”
He didn’t like her tone or the direction of her thoughts. “Propose to.”
Her grin was tight as she mimicked him by saying, “Semantics.” She stalked out from behind her desk. “There must be any number of women who’d jump at a chance like this. Even if the marriage only lasted a few weeks, as you say, the prestige exists. And everyone knows how generous you are. But then, most of the women you associate with are beautiful and sexy, and that might only reinforce your present image as a man who cares about superficial things and his own pleasure. If you marry me, a woman without extravagant looks or sex appeal and with an unremarkable background, they’ll think it has to be for love, the kind of love that lasts.”
“The real kind.”
She totally missed his sarcasm. “You, on the other hand, have looks and money and breeding and background and sophistication. But my drabness will help to tone down your brilliance by comparison. That’s it, isn’t it?”
He stared at her, totally floored that she would come to such an asinine conclusion when those thoughts had never entered into his decision. “That analogy is a pretty good stretch, wouldn’t you say?”
She shook her head, convincing herself she was on the right track. “I suppose it does make a bit of sense when you think about it. You can’t exactly be seen as a playboy married to me. No one will wonder if you married me for connections, or money, because I have none.”
“You have something much more valuable.”
She quirked a dubious brow.
“You have a quiet dignity. And a generous soul, and an innate kindness. Those are all things that will reflect on my good judgment.” And she was the only woman he could consider letting that close.
She sighed, then rubbed her forehead. “I do understand, R.J. But it’s up to you. Will I be a real wife or not?”
She had no intention of backing down, he could see that now. She stood there in her innocence and naïveté and demanded that he have sex with her. Fighting for lost control, he nodded. “All right, Dana, you win.”
Once she had her agreement, she seemed to wither before him. Her eyes were downcast, and she nibbled on her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”
“Having second thoughts now?”
“No. I just…I don’t want you to be angry.”
Hell, he was far from angry. Turned on, maybe. His body had started to thrum quietly the minute she’d made her outrageous suggestion, and with each second the feeling had only gotten worse. The miracle would be keeping himself detached when they did have sex—but he knew he had to. He would maintain the upper hand, no matter what it took. “I’m not angry.”
“Shall…shall I make the arrangements?”
One side of his mouth kicked up in humor as he registered the irony of her question. “The efficient secretary to the last, hmm? Still willing to handle all my affairs, even the more personal ones. Well, I think this time I’ll arrange things myself. How does this weekend suit you?”
“So soon?” She couldn’t hide her amazement—or her excitement. At least, he hoped it was excitement and not anxiety.
Very gently, he asked, “There’s no reason to put it off, is there?”
“But…should I invite someone to be a witness?”
He enjoyed seeing her act like a nervous bride, which proved just how perverse he could be. “Of course. But I’d really like to keep it low key. My mother, two witnesses, but no more than that. I don’t want the press to find out until it’s over with.”
She shuddered at the possibility. “They’d definitely taint the ceremony.”
“And I’ve seen my face enough in the papers lately.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ll have to find a dress!”
Such a typically female consideration was a relief after her bout of sensual demands. “Your white suit will do just fine. After all, it’ll be a civil ceremony at the justice of the peace. And we’ll want to keep the frills to a minimum.”
The second he said it, he saw a small light go out in her eyes and belatedly realized that she’d wanted to make the occasion special. He had a sudden pang in his chest that he didn’t understand, an ache that was unfamiliar but that he knew was centered around Dana and her happiness. He cupped her face with one hand, letting his thumb smooth over her temple. Now that he’d gotten used to touching her, he couldn’t seem to stop. Her skin was so incredibly soft. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Here I am, bulldozing right over you with no consideration for your wishes.”
She shrugged, staring at his silk tie. “It was your idea, after all. You should certainly do things however you like.”
He frowned. “There’s no need for you to play the martyr.”
“I wasn’t!”
He shushed her by placing his thumb over her lips, which were even softer than her skin, prompting him to continue touching. She froze, her eyes huge. “What I’d like,” he murmured, “is to make you happy. If you really want to wear a new dress—”
When she shook her head, he reluctantly removed his thumb so she could speak. “No, the suit will do. You’re right.”
He hesitated, not wanting her to look so fatally resigned. But he knew that the less fanfare the better—for his reputation and his peace of mind. He already felt far too involved. To make it up to her, he would buy her flowers, traditional white rosebuds to go with the suit. And another emerald for her wedding band. Knowing Dana, she wouldn’t be expecting a ring; she wouldn�
��t be expecting anything at all. He didn’t want their bargain to be one-sided. He wanted to pamper her and he wanted to see her smile.
But he also wanted to protect himself, because he had a feeling he’d miscalculated his reaction to Dana Dillinger. She’d changed things around so that now it was a marriage of her convenience. Her sexual convenience. And now that she’d insisted on getting down and dirty with him, he felt thrown off balance in a way he’d never experienced before.
He wanted her. And that had never been part of the plan.
CHAPTER FIVE
“HI, SWEETHEART.”
Dana caught her breath as R.J. gently touched her cheek, drawing her attention. She’d been so preoccupied and nervous over the coming ceremony that she hadn’t heard him enter. And this new habit of his of using endearments continually caught her off guard. She wondered if she’d ever get used to it.
His smile was teasing, as if he knew she was nervous and found it endearing. “This is for you.”
Dana stared down at the large, square white box R.J. handed to her. She’d been surprised by the appearance of the judge’s chambers moments before when she and her good friend Hope Logan had arrived. The large room had been fancied up with white satin ribbon and a white runner. And there were flowers everywhere, flanking a small altar, situated on either side of the door, in a row of pots bordering the floor and in every corner. The air smelled sweet with the combined scents of orange blossom, roses, carnations and orchids.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been wedding decorations, not when the wedding wasn’t real, not when there was no love involved. Hope, one of her closest friends and the only witness Dana had invited to the wedding, had known for some time how Dana felt about R.J. Trusting her friend completely, Dana had confided R.J.’s motive for the wedding, and had been grateful that Hope hadn’t tried to dissuade her from going through with it.
When they’d discovered the decorated chambers, Hope had squeezed her hand and whispered, “Dana, you know R.J. doesn’t do anything halfway. You probably should have expected this.” But she hadn’t.
And now R.J. had another surprise for her.
Dana blinked at the box. “What is it?”
R.J. grinned and she privately thought he was the most charming, handsome man she’d ever seen. He looked stunning in his dark suit and white shirt, and there was a white rosebud in his lapel. “I promise you’ll find out if you open the box.”
Very aware of everyone looking at her with expectation, Dana lifted the lid on the cardboard box and carefully pulled apart tissue paper. Quietly she caught her breath. Lush, fully bloomed, creamy white roses and rosebuds, baby’s breath and delicate orchids were framed by intricate white lace and long, dangling ribbons.
He’d bought her a wedding bouquet.
Tears threatened, and she struggled to subdue them. Ever since he’d made his proposition, her emotions had been on a roller coaster ride, winging high with excitement and an irrepressible, ridiculous hope, then soaring to the depths with stark reality. This was all for show, a complete sham. She wondered why everyone smiled. Did they truly not know? R.J. had always had his pick of beautiful women; why would any sane person believe he’d marry her for love?
Faint music started, startling her anew, and R.J. took her arm to turn her toward the altar. The judge stood in front of it, his face alight with pleasure. Hope had taken her place to the right of the judge, smiling despite the fact she knew this was all contrived.
Drake Logan, Hope’s husband and R.J.’s good friend, stood to the left of the judge. Megan stood beside Hope, and Dana realized they all had flowers now. Hope and Megan wore corsages that matched her bouquet, and a white rosebud was tucked in Drake’s lapel. Why had R.J. gone to all this trouble? Dana wondered.
But, of course, Hope had been right. When R.J. did something, he did it right, with no room for chance. He wouldn’t want any speculation about the authenticity of the wedding.
“You’re not going to faint on me, are you?” R.J. whispered in her ear as he gently urged her forward.
Numbly, she shook her head, though fainting seemed a very real possibility. “I’m fine.”
He chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze. “A typical answer for you. Tell me, do you ever complain about anything?”
The question startled her. “Why would I complain to you? You’re my boss, not my counselor or therapist.”
“I thought I was your friend, as well.”
They were keeping their voices low, barely audible over the music. Dana nodded. “A friend, but one with limitations.”
His eyes glittered down at her. “I’m soon to be your husband.”
Unable to hide her feelings, she gave him a stark look. “Not really.” By this time they had reached the judge, who started in with the prescribed ceremony. Dana could feel the heat of R.J.’s annoyance beside her, but she refused to let herself be deluded. This wedding was meant to repair his reputation, nothing more. His gestures with the flowers and music were appreciated, but then, R.J. was always considerate of the women he associated with. His generosity was well known, but a smart woman understood that it didn’t represent anything beyond superficial affection and a desire to please at best, an intelligent tactic at worst. Either way, it was a long, long stretch from love.
“If you don’t answer him, sweetheart, I’m going to be mortified.”
She heard the teasing in R.J.’s tone and saw the amusement on everyone’s face. Her cheeks heated. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even heard the question. But the judge was looking at her expectantly, and she knew the appropriate answer. “Yes.”
R.J. gave a rumbling chuckle and again squeezed her hand. In an aside to their small audience, he said, “I see she knows how to keep a man on pins and needles,” and they all laughed softly. Dana forced a smile, but it fell away with a gasp when R.J. lifted her left hand and slid a wedding band into place on the third finger.
The ring was a narrow, polished gold circle with a glowing emerald embedded in the middle and surrounded by glittering diamonds. Though it was larger and somewhat more extravagant, it matched the necklace to perfection and left her utterly speechless. She stared at it, with no idea what to say.
Not once had she considered the idea of a ring. Her thoughts had centered on maintaining some sort of emotional balance, of taking advantage of the opportunity to be with R.J., to openly love him, without tossing away her pride by letting him discover her love. She had to protect her heart and at the same time feed the growing need to be with him, to touch him, to have all of him—even under false pretenses.
There’d been no room in her thoughts for the formalities of the wedding. R.J. had said to leave it up to him, and she had.
Hope and Megan oohed over the ring, leaning closer to see it better. Drake gave a masculine murmur of approval, prompting Dana to say simply, and somewhat breathlessly, “Thank you.”
She hoped everyone would attribute her preoccupation to bridal jitters. R.J. had orchestrated such a convincing facade. He’d manipulated them all so skillfully, playing the doting bridegroom with the flowers and the music and the ring. Only Hope knew that beneath it all, Dana’s heart was breaking.
Everything about the wedding shone—except the bride. When Hope had picked her up to bring her to the courthouse, Dana had wanted to run back inside and change. Her white suit, which R.J. had suggested was perfectly suitable seemed dowdy in comparison to Hope’s classy silk sheath and pearls. But of course, she’d had nothing more appropriate to change into, only more suits and her casual clothes.
But now her businesslike outfit looked even more utilitarian against the beautiful flowers and the emerald ring. She wanted to shout her frustration, she wanted to run away. She wanted R.J. to love her.
And the judge, with a hearty smile, announced, “You may kiss the bride.”
Dana sucked in her breath and held very, very still. She felt all the eyes watching her, Hope’s with a sort of wistful
expectation, Megan’s with joy, Drake’s mildly amused.
Her thoughts and feelings fractured as R.J. smiled at her. His rough fingertips, so warm and steady, touched her chin, tipping up her face. The worries that had overwhelmed her only seconds before disappeared at the prospect of kissing him again.
Dana forgot to breathe. The kiss wasn’t voracious, but rather respectful and restrained. Through the ringing in her ears, she vaguely heard Drake encouraging R.J. to do better, and before she knew it, his mouth was back with new intent.
His hand slid from its gentle touch on her chin to grip the back of her neck and to the sounds of loud cheering, he tilted her over his arm and continued the kiss. Dana could do little more than hang on to his lapels, inadvertently crushing his boutonniere and dropping her bouquet to the floor, as his tongue stroked hers. She actually felt dizzy, and when he lifted his mouth, it was to grin down at her as she remained balanced in his grasp.
Against her lips, he whispered, “Smile, or they’ll all think I’m blackmailing you into this.”
Smiling was totally beyond her capabilities. Instead, she leaned up the scant inch necessary and brought their mouths together again.
Drake laughed out loud, and Hope and Megan applauded.
Dana was dimly aware of a flash of light, then another. In fact, there had been flashes all through the short ceremony, she realized. R.J. released her mouth and gently drew her upright, then placed one muscular arm around her shoulders. Hope, having rescued the bouquet before it got trampled, handed it to Dana, and they turned to face the photographer.
A small woman with short, straight blond hair and a Bohemian style wielded her camera like a weapon, turning this way and that with an excess of energy. R.J. didn’t seem to mind, so Dana assumed this was another surprise, freezing the moment for posterity. She shuddered.
He had joked about the others thinking he’d blackmailed her, when in truth, she was the blackmailer.
And he was paying her demands. She’d insisted he give her all the benefits of a real wife, and evidently he was determined to do just that.