For Services Rendered

by Patricia Kay

  He bent to brush her cheek in greeting, and his cologne, something that smelled of mountains and forests, drifted over her. "Welcome to my home," he said.

  Although her stomach felt hollow, she spoke lightly. "You took it literally, didn't you?"

  He frowned, a quizzical smile on his face. "Took what literally?"

  "A man's home is his castle."

  He laughed out loud. "It is ridiculous, isn't it?"

  "Actually, I'm impressed. As a little girl, I loved fairy tales, and this place really reminds me of the castle Rapunzel lived in. I can just see her up in that tower with her hair hanging down."

  He continued to chuckle. "Well, good. I'm glad this place appeals to you. After all, it's going to be your home soon."

  Her home. Their home. Claire evaded his eyes. She could feel herself blushing.

  Nick motioned to one of the leather sofas on either side of the fireplace. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

  For Claire, the rest of the evening passed in a blur of sensory images: the crackle and hiss of the fire burning brightly in the great stone fireplace; the sensuous feel of the butter-soft leather covering the deep-cushioned sofas; the rich patina of the polished oak tables; the combined scents of furniture polish, fresh cut flowers, and burning cedar; the jewel tones of the beautiful Oriental carpets covering the stone-tiled floor; the sparkle of the crystal decanter as Nick poured her a glass of wine; the poetry of Mozart's "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik" playing softly in the background; the glow of candlelight over Nick's rugged, tanned face; and then later, the delicious dinner of lamb and new potatoes and tiny creamed peas; the tang of dark burgundy wine; the tinkle of silver against china; the whispery footsteps of the dark-haired maid who served them; and always, always, the vibrant blue of Nick's eyes as they watched her with an intoxicating intensity.

  All Claire's doubts, all her problems receded, and she allowed herself to fall under the spell of the magical house.

  And after dinner, when Nick took her on a tour, Claire felt more and more as if she'd entered a time warp. The rooms were all high-ceilinged and filled with priceless antiques and rich, beautiful fabrics and upholstery. Breathtaking Impressionist paintings glowed from the walls. Everywhere Claire looked she saw elegance and grace and beauty. And this was Nick's home. The home they would soon share.

  And then he took her into the tower. The bottom level of the tower was a beautiful room that was obviously Nick's study.

  "I've saved the best for last," he said, guiding her to the stairway in the middle of the room.

  With him behind her, Claire climbed a twisting circular stairway to the room at the top. She took one look and fell hopelessly in love with the exquisite room circled by wide windows on all sides. It was furnished as a sitting room, and there was an intricately carved writing desk positioned under one of the windows, a Tiffany lamp throwing a circle of golden light on its shining top. Like a woman in a trance, Claire walked slowly over to the desk and rubbed her fingertips across the burnished surface.

  A bittersweet yearning filled her. She could see herself sitting at the desk, writing letters and gazing out the window, daydreaming about . . . Nick. She could see herself curled up on one of the chintz-covered window seats, reading and listening to music while she waited for him to finish the work he'd brought home and climb the stairs to join her. She could see them sitting together on the plush loveseat while they discussed their respective days. She could see his dark head dipping as he nuzzled her neck ... his strong, tanned hand moving up her ribcage to touch her. . . .

  "It's wonderful," she said, hardly able to speak, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat, her breasts tingling from the imagined caress. She couldn't meet his eyes. She was afraid he'd know exactly what she'd been thinking.

  "It's even better this way," he said softly. He reached to shut off the lamp. Suddenly, the room was a part of the navy night. Moonlight pooled at their feet, and everywhere Claire looked she could see stars. When he gently turned her to face him, his eyes glittering in the dark, she offered no resistance. How could she? This was what she'd been thinking about.

  She closed her eyes and lifted her face, and when his cool, firm lips met hers, she sighed, her breath mingling with his.

  He kissed her gently at first, his lips just grazing hers, his hands on either side of her face. But then the kiss grew more insistent, and he drew her closer, fitting her body tightly along the length of his. His mouth was heat and warmth and dark delight, and as the kiss deepened, desire spiraled through her as she arched against him. She shuddered as his hands stroked her, igniting nerve endings wherever they touched.

  The kiss went on and on, and she felt as if she were one with the stars surrounding them—a shooting star rocketing through the universe. All thought disappeared. There was only the taste and smell and feel of Nick: holding her, kissing her, claiming her, and the starry night around them, closing them in its velvet embrace.

  "Claire," he finally whispered, breaking the kiss, his breathing ragged. "Beautiful Claire." His lips dropped to her neck.

  Claire's head spun. "Nick, I—"

  He straightened. Very gently, he placed one finger against her lips. "Shhh. Not tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough to talk, don't you think?" And then he took her hand and led her down the steps and out of the tower to the entry hall. "Wait here." He disappeared and Claire tried to get her chaotic emotions under some semblance of control.

  Her senses were still reeling from his devastating kiss, but she knew she had to pull herself together. She couldn't let him see how much his kiss had affected her. Minutes later, he returned, carrying her coat. As he held it up, then helped her put it on, his hands lingered on her shoulders just a moment longer than necessary, and Claire's traitorous heart skittered around in her chest.

  But he didn't try to kiss her again. And all the way home, as she sat only inches away from him in the dark intimacy of the Lotus, he didn't once try to touch her. Instead, he inserted a cassette into the tape player and as the delicate strains of Debussy's "Claire de Lune" surrounded them, he said softly, "Put your head back and relax. It's been a long day."

  When they reached her apartment, he helped her out of the car and followed her up the steep steps to her apartment. Claire's breathing quickened as she turned to say good-bye. As their eyes met, all she could think about was how it had felt to be held in his arms, to have him kiss her.

  "Good-night, Claire," he murmured. "Sweet dreams."

  "Good-night, Nick." Her heart thundered in her chest as his head dipped. She closed her eyes. But his lips just brushed her cheek.

  "I'll call you tomorrow," he said. And then he was gone.

  Chapter 7

  "You're what?"

  Nick gave Tim a level look. "You heard me."

  "But I can't believe I heard you correctly!" "What can't you believe about it?" Nick twirled his pen between his fingers. He thought about the weekend and smiled.

  "You can't be serious. You're joking, right?" "I'm not joking. On Friday night Claire Kendrick accepted my proposal of marriage. Yesterday, we finalized the details. We're planning to be married in June."

  "Nick!" Tim shoved his hair back from his forehead, his action a giveaway to his agitation. "Are you nuts? You've known the woman less than a month." He grimaced. "I thought that angel-faced innocence of hers was too good to be true, and it looks as if I'm right. She certainly is a fast worker. I can't believe she managed to fool you, and so quickly."

  "She didn't fool me. This is completely my doing," Nick said mildly. He wasn't angry. He'd expected this reaction from Tim, who had some idea he was Nick's protector. "I've thought it over very carefully. She suits me perfectly." He went on to explain the terms he and Claire had agreed upon the previous afternoon. He smiled remembering Claire's reaction to his plans. It pleased him that she seemed to expect so little. In his experience most people were out for all they could get, but Claire seemed to be that rarity—a person without greed.

  "Wait a m
inute. Let me get this straight. You're telling me this is strictly a business relationship? Christ, Nick, you could have any woman you wanted. You don't have to bargain for a wife."

  "All the women I know want to control me . . . and my money."

  "And you think this Kendrick woman is any different?"

  "I know she is."

  Once more, Tim thrust his fingers through his hair. "Damn it, you're stubborn."

  "So you've told me before."

  "Nick, why are you doing this?"

  "I've already told you. I want a wife. I want a home life. I want children."

  "But why this way? Why marry someone you barely know and don't pretend to love?"

  Nick smiled sardonically. Tim was a romantic. Under the bluster and legal brilliance and prudence, Tim was the kind of man who really believed in fairy tales and happy endings. "Of all people, you know better than anyone what a disaster my marriage to Jill was."

  "Don't pile one mistake on top of another, then."

  "This isn't a mistake." Nick rose, walked to the buffet server and poured himself a cup of the fresh coffee Wanda kept in plentiful supply. He considered his words carefully. Because Tim's friendship meant a lot to him, he wanted him to understand. "Every goal I've ever set for myself, I've met, with one exception."

  Tim leaned back in his chair.

  "My personal life has never been successful." Just saying the words out loud made Nick feel unsure of himself, a feeling he despised. Uncertainty was for the meek, the weak, those afraid to take what they wanted from life. He'd vowed long ago, when he'd been shunted from one foster home to another, that he'd be strong, as strong as necessary, and he'd never be afraid to go after what he wanted.

  When Tim still said nothing, Nick continued, "I'm forty-two years old. If I'm ever to have a family, I'd better get started." He grinned. "I don't want to be the oldest man in the P.T.A." Then he became serious again. "For the past several years, I've been looking for a suitable wife. The search has been futile. Finally, I realized the reason I was having no success was because I wasn't approaching the problem the way I tackle difficulties in business. As soon as I realized I had to apply the same successful strategy to my personal goals, everything became clear to me."

  "So you decided to buy a wife?"

  "Why not acquire a wife the same way I'd acquire a company? Look over her assets, her liabilities, her strengths and weaknesses, see how we might complement one another, what she can offer me as well as what I can offer her?"

  Tim shook his head. "I'm not believing this."

  "It makes perfect sense when you think about it. The reason my personal life has been such a failure is I've allowed emotions to rule rather than sound reasoning. That's why 1 lost my edge. That's why I failed."

  "Well, I think you're destined to fail this time, too."

  "Why?"

  "Because in your zeal, you forgot one of the cardinal rules of business. Cover your ass."

  Nick frowned.

  "Think about it," Tim said. "You want me to draw up a contract that protects both her and her mother no matter what happens in the future. What about you?"

  "What about me?"

  "What about your protection?"

  "I don't need protection from Claire," Nick said, beginning to get irritated.

  "I say you do. As your legal counsel, I say if you're insistent about going through with this scheme, at the very least you need a full-fledged prenuptial agreement that not only spells out what you're going to do for her but guarantees what will happen if she doesn't live up to her end of the bargain."

  It irritated Nick that Tim was right. Nick couldn't imagine entering into any other kind of business deal without a written contract. Perhaps in the old days a man could depend upon another's word, but this was the twentieth century and things were no longer so simple.

  "If this really is a business deal, then surely you see the advisability of doing it perfectly. As a matter-of-fact, I don't think you should sign anything until Ms. Kendrick has a physical examination. How do you even know she can have children?"

  Damn. He should have thought of that himself. What if she couldn't have children? Reluctantly, he said, "1 know you're right. Okay. Set it up."

  "Will she agree to it?"

  "Yes. I'm sure she will."

  Tim jotted some notes on the legal pad he held. "We'd better make this agreement airtight. If we don't, and something should go wrong, this dame could take you to the cleaners."

  Nick stiffened. "Don't call her a dame. Her name is Claire," he said tightly.

  Tim's brown eyes met his for a long moment. "All right. Sorry. Anyway, Claire could marry you, have your kid, divorce you, then take the kid as well as half of what you own."

  Nick hated to admit Tim was right on all counts. Although he didn't want to believe Clarie would ever renege on a promise, people did change. Sometimes even the best intentions evaporated when things didn't go the way you expected them to go. He sighed. "You're right. Get started on drawing up the contract."

  Tim rose. "Good. But I still think this is the craziest idea you've ever had."

  * * *

  Claire liked Nick's doctor. At first, she'd balked at having the physical, but after thinking about it, she realized Nick's request was reasonable. If, for some reason, she was unable to bear children, he had to know. So she kept the appointment, had the physical, and was told she was in perfect health.

  "I see no reason why you can't have a dozen children," Dr. Ardale said. "You're a very healthy young woman."

  Claire left the office knowing Nick would be pleased when he received the report from the doctor.

  She was still walking around in a kind of rosy glow, even though she'd had ten days to get used to her new status as Nick Callahan's fiancee. At least once every thirty minutes she'd lift her hand, moving it back and forth so her engagement ring would catch the light, watching the way it sparkled with fiery brilliance. From the day she'd said she would marry him, her life had turned upside down, each day bringing some new delight to savor.

  Nick had insisted that everything concerning their engagement and wedding be done exactly right. She thought back over the long conversation they'd had the Sunday after she accepted his offer. They had spent hours discussing how and when each event would take place. Claire envisioned a small wedding, but Nick had other ideas.

  "We'll have an official engagement party in two weeks. Can you give my secretary a list of the people you'd like invited by Tuesday?"

  An official engagement party? What would she wear? But in a few minutes, that question was answered.

  "Tomorrow I'll have Wanda call the different shops and establish a line of credit for you." He mentioned places Claire had only read about—shops that carried designer labels where one item might cost more than her entire wardrobe. "You're going to need a lot of clothes because many of my friends and business associates will want to have parties for us. You'll also need a couple of furs, but don't buy jewelry. That's something I'll take care of."

  As if she would have, Claire thought, totally bemused.

  "I'll also have Wanda investigate and recommend a bridal consultant for you to work with. With someone good you should be able to have everything done and ready for a June wedding. What do you think?"

  Claire didn't know what she thought. Her mind was whirling.

  "My sister Natalie will be coming in for the engagement party. She lives in Los Angeles."

  Claire remembered reading somewhere that he had a sister. But her research into his background had yielded little else about his private life.

  "When you go into work tomorrow, give Ken Boudreaux your two weeks' notice. You're going to be too busy to work from now until the wedding."

  "I don't want to quit working!" Claire protested.

  "You won't have enough time to get ready for the wedding if you continue to work. Besides," he added, "it wouldn't be fair to my other employees to have you there. It would put them in an awkward position."
He smiled, which took the sting from his words. "Didn't you realize you'd have to give up your job if you married me?"

  "I ... I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead," Claire admitted. He was right, she knew he was right. But she didn't have to like it. She began to feel as if a steamroller were mowing her down. Her carefully disciplined life was toppling faster than she could keep up with it.

  So she'd given her notice, and now she only had three more days to work. And in four days, the big engagement party would take place. My second big hurdle, she thought, knowing she'd leaped the first with her positive report from the doctor.

  She looked at her engagement ring again. Prisms of light and color dazzled her.

  There would be a lot of hurdles to get over in the next months, she knew, but only one really frightened her: her wedding night.

  Could she pull it off? Could she make love with Nick without love between them, without letting her own emotions go out of control? Because Claire had decided that no matter what her feelings were, she would stick to the spirit of their agreement. She knew if she allowed her emotions to rule her, she would put a strain on their relationship. He would begin to feel guilty because he couldn't offer her love, and then her position would be untenable. He might even begin to avoid her.

  No, Claire thought. I want this marriage to work. I want him to feel comfortable around me. I don't want him to regret his decision to marry me. I've made a bargain and I'll stick to it. And if that means keeping my feelings hidden, so be it.

  * * *

  The party was going quite well, Nick thought, as he watched Claire talking to his sister, Natalie. With half an ear turned to Howard St. Martin's excruciatingly boring description of his latest African safari, he murmured encouragement at appropriate intervals, but his attention was centered on Claire.

  She looked heart-stoppingly beautiful tonight. Her sea-green chiffon and lace dress was the perfect foil for her Dresden china beauty. He'd hardly been able to tear his eyes away from her since the moment she'd stepped across the threshold and into his home. When she'd smiled, shrugging out of her sheared beaver jacket, one of three furs he'd insisted she buy, and he saw her in the gossamer dress studded with tiny pearls, she had taken his breath away. The smile was radiant and he'd felt a surge of pride and possessiveness, knowing he was responsible for her obvious happiness. Her face glowed; she looked healthy and rested. Gone were the dark circles that she'd worn throughout the weeks she'd worried about her mother and her financial problems.