Pearly paused and sucked in a quick breath. Sarah was waiting for it, ready to jump and try to get out of this story, but years of telling long-winded stories had made Pearly an expert on breathing without giving up the floor. Before Sarah could get a word in edgewise, Pearly was back at it.
“Well, my cousin Lerlene said she wasn’t marrying no man who drank so much he lost a leg, and she broke off their engagement. A couple years later, Trubald, he laid off the drink, got a new leg and a new fiancée and Lerlene’s one chance at love limped off to a marriage that’s still strong today.”
“Oh.” Sarah didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what the point of the story was and was terrified to ask because Pearly didn’t seem to be able to give monosyllabic responses.
Even though she wanted to avoid the confrontation with Donovan, she knew she had to face him eventually and was thinking confronting him was easier than making sense of Pearly’s stories.
“Now do you see what I mean?” Pearly demanded.
“Yes,” Sarah said decisively, even though she didn’t truly have a clue.
“What?”
“Umm... Don’t get drunk and lose your leg or you’ll lose your fiancée?” she tried.
“No, you addlebrained girl,” Pearly said, giving Sarah another soft thwap on the forehead. “Now, I know you have more brains than turnip-talking Lerlene, but brains doesn’t have a thing to do with love. You can’t just throw love away because things are tough. You work it out. If Lerlene had worked it out with Trubald, she might not be a bitter, single, turnip-talkin’ woman today.”
“Single isn’t bad,” Sarah pointed out.
She was happy with her life as it was. Happy to be able to come and go as she pleased, and not to have to answer to anyone else. She could live in her office, sleep on her lumpy sleeper-sofa if she wanted to—not that she wanted to—but the point was, she didn’t have to answer to anyone.
Donovan could storm into her office and bluster about how she chose to live all he wanted, but because she was single, and single-minded in her goals, she didn’t have to listen. She was going to make By Design a success, and was willing to tough it out the first year in order to do it.
“No. I’m the poster child for the slogan Single Isn’t Bad,” Pearly said. “I’m happy bein’ single. But pinin’ away for something you threw away is bad. Letting go without fighting for a relationship is worse.”
“But—”
Pearly stood. “Gotta go. You’ve got a man waitin’ to take you to breakfast,” Pearly added as she unceremoniously, and uncharacteristically, left Sarah’s office without another word. She closed the door behind her with a small bang.
Sarah sat, trying to sort out everything Pearly had said. If she and Donovan had a real engagement, if they really loved each other, she wouldn’t give up. She would willingly fight for it—for them.
But they didn’t.
This was just an engagement-of-convenience, a short-term contract between them. There was nothing to fight for. Or so she tried to tell herself as she went out to meet Donovan.
~~~
Donovan stared at the woman across the breakfast table from him. All those days he’d watched her eat her lunches in the park, he’d never imagined he’d be sitting at a table eating with her, much less pressing her to actually marry him.
“But, just stop and consider the advantages,’’ he said, pressing his point.
“You’d make partner.” She speared a piece of her pancake.
Donovan swallowed a quick gulp of coffee. He needed all the energy and caffeine his body could absorb. Sarah was a well-matched opponent
“Yes,” he said slowly. “And that’s my reason for this union. But there are reasons for you to agree as well.”
She nodded, “Moving in the right circles for my business.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But beyond that, there’s the small matter of a roof over your head.”
She lived in her office.
The thought had been eating at him since last night. Someone like Sarah deserved the best of everything, not some lumpy couch and a bathroom that didn’t even have a shower. She went to the Y every day.
“I have a roof over my head.” She had this stubborn little expression on her face.
Donovan wasn’t about to tell her that she looked cute. Sort of like an Irish setter pretending to be a pit bull. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate the dog analogy. But her hair was the exact same shade as the dog his grandmother had owned.
“I’m talking about a home, not just a roof. And living in your office isn’t a home.”
“Let’s get the semantics straight—you’re talking about a house. A home is a place where a family lives, and you’re not proposing we become a family. This is a business proposal.”
She wasn’t eating her pancakes any longer, merely pushing the pieces through the syrup. He wondered if she ate right. She was skinny enough to make him wonder if she was skipping meals to save money. Well, as soon as he got her home, he’d be sure she ate healthily and regularly.
“Fine,” he said, willing to agree to her point. “It might not be a home, but you’d have a real house, a real bed and a real shower. I know I first suggested a household account splitting the bills, but that doesn’t seem right.”
“I can pay my own way,” she practically growled.
“But I’ll be the one benefiting the most from this arrangement so it’s only fair that I shoulder the greater part of the financial burden.”
No way was he going to take her money. He had plenty and she was homeless, practically starving herself.
Okay, that might be overstating the facts, but he wasn’t taking her money.
“I’m no one’s burden,” Sarah muttered.
“That’s not what I meant. Listen, I’m already paying all the bills at my place. Your moving in won’t add any expense.”
“Food.”
Oh, if he had his way, his food bill would go way up. The more he thought about it, the more skinny she seemed. He’d have to find a way to get her a physical. Maybe she’d made herself sick.
“Fine,” he readily agreed. “You pay for half the food.”
He’d see to it she ate more than half the food anyway. He was a pretty decent cook, thanks to his grandmother. Although it had been years since he’d done much of it. There just didn’t seem to be a point in cooking for only himself. But he’d enjoy cooking for Sarah.
He’d start with his grandmother’s beef stew and dumplings. No one could resist that. And if he did say so himself, his dumplings were lighter than even his grandmother’s had been.
He realized Sarah was still talking money as he daydreamed about feeding her.
“I pay for all the food,” she said.
“Fine.” He picked up his legal pad and scribbled a note. “I’ll add that to our prenup. You’ll live at my house, I’ll continue paying all the bills associated with it, and you’ll shoulder the grocery bill. We could go shopping Saturday mornings. That gives me the day to get meals for the following week prepared.”
He scribbled another note to himself. “I should have mentioned, I’ll cook.”
“You cook?” she asked, sounding way too surprised.
“Wait until you try something I’ve made. That hint of skepticism in your voice will disappear immediately.”
“I can’t see the Iceman puttering around in his kitchen.’’ She shook her head, trying to look serious, but he saw the spark of humor in those light gray eyes.
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he said, and quickly reminded himself there was a lot about her he didn’t know either.
Donovan realized he was excited about discovering all those unknown things. Why?
This was business, he reminded himself. The only reason he was worried about her eating habits was it wouldn’t do to have a sick wife.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Sarah said hastily. “I just need to be clear on what we’re doing. We’re talking theoretica
lly. I’m not agreeing to anything.”
Sensing that he’d pushed far enough for the moment, Donovan switched tactics. “So what did Pearly want?”
Sarah looked a little surprised by his change of subject and answered cautiously. “She wanted to know what you were doing at my place on a Sunday morning.”
“Stop playing with your pancakes and eat them. You’re all skin and bones,” he said. He couldn’t stand seeing her move that one slice through the syrup puddle again.
Satisfied when she ate the bite, and hoping to keep her unsettled, he asked, “So what did you tell Pearly?”
Sarah finished chewing and said, “What we agreed. That we were engaged, and things weren’t going well.”
Sarah smiled...the first genuine smile he’d seen all day. Donovan wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but he liked her smile.
Who was he kidding? He liked the way she looked when she smiled, when she frowned, and he’d especially liked the way she’d looked when she turned to him last night to rescue her from his wedding-planner colleagues.
Donovan simply liked looking at her.
Her hair was a soft reddish tint, and that light sprinkling of freckles across her nose...he wondered how many freckles there were. He’d like to count and see, but he couldn’t imagine she’d stand for that
Her grayish-blue eyes met his without flinching. She stood up to him, challenged him left and right. Not many people did that. Most people were intimidated by him, and that’s the way he liked it.
But he was glad Sarah wasn’t. Why that was, he wasn’t sure. He forced himself to concentrate on what she was saying.
“...and then she said that her cousin Lerlene should have stuck by the missing-leg Trubald. Oh, I made a mess of that story. I don’t think anyone can tell a Pearly story and make the moral work out quite the way she does. But her point was, you stick it out through the rough times, if you really love someone. Of course, I couldn’t tell her we don’t.”
“Right. This isn’t a love match. This is business,” he said, reminding himself more than Sarah.
“But I didn’t tell her that,” she said.
“So to get back to our original subject, about marrying me.”
“Donovan, are you always this persistent?” Sarah asked.
He noted she’d finished her pancakes and pushed his plate of untouched hash browns her way. “Try these. I’m full and can’t eat another bite, but it’s a shame to waste them. They’re delicious.”
“You’re changing the subject again. I asked if you were always this persistent,” she repeated, even as she obligingly took a bite. “Oh, these are good.”
“Yes,” he answered, and smiled as she took a second bite. “Being persistent is why I’m such a good attorney and deserve this promotion. A promotion that might be in jeopardy if you break things off.”
“But you said you just needed a fiancée for the night,” she reminded him.
Donovan took a sip of coffee, using the moment to come up with an answer.
“I thought that would be enough, but after watching how Leland and everyone jumped on the idea of us truly getting married, well, I think breaking things off could mean I’m out of the running.”
“It’s not fair for you to put your promotion on me,” she said softly.
“It’s not fair that a partnership I deserve depends on whether or not I’m in a relationship. It’s not fair that Ratgaz owes you money and hasn’t paid. It’s not fair that a talented decorator is living at her office.”
“How do you know I’m talented?” she asked abruptly.
“I saw what you did with your office and—”
“And?”
“And I paid a visit to Ratgaz’s office last week after our meeting. I saw what you did there. You’re very talented. I have no doubt that you’re going to make it, as soon as others realize it.”
He didn’t add he’d met the man and that it was all he could do not to throw a punch at him. He hated Ratgaz on sight for what he’d put Sarah through. And when he saw what a wonderful job she’d done decorating the offices—an entire floor of offices, plus the reception area—he hated Ratgaz even more.
Sarah hadn’t responded, so he added, “You’re going to make it if you can keep your business afloat until then. That’s what I’m offering you, a chance to stay afloat while you build your clientele.”
“Donovan, this will never work.” She shook her head, her hair swaying to and fro. “Someone will end up hurt.”
“No. We’ll nail everything down before the wedding. We’ll leave nothing to chance. As long as we’ve got it all in black and white, there’s no way either of us will be hurt.” He touched the legal pad. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”
“But—”
“Listen, I’ve already started. ‘Whereas, the parties are anticipating marriage to each other. Whereas, in anticipation of their intended marriage, the parties desire to express in writing their agreement—”’
Sarah cut him off. “Whereas? Oh, please not legalese. Just tell me in English what you’d have it say.”
Donovan chuckled. Maybe he needed to hang out with more nonlawyer friends in order to remember how real people talked.
“What it says, in essence, is what’s mine is mine, what’s yours is yours, now and after the marriage ends. While I waited at your office, I tossed in a few other ideas. We’ll live at my place, not yours.”
He realized that statement came out hard and sounded rather cold, so he offered her a smile to soften it.
“Donovan, was that a joke?” Sarah asked, and thwacked her hand on her chest. “Oh, be still my heart. The Iceman is joking?”
Donovan found himself smiling back at her. “Don’t mock me before lunch. I can be dangerous.”
She studied him for a long, silent minute. “I’m beginning to suspect you want people to believe that. I don’t know that it’s necessarily so.”
Donovan felt...exposed.
Exposed. Yes, that was the word. He felt as if Sarah knew things about him that even he didn’t know. And he didn’t like it. He wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t going to put up with it.
“You should,” he said, giving her his fiercest glare—the one guaranteed to make other attorneys or witnesses cower in their shoes.
She smiled a smile that said she wasn’t buying it. Flustered, he cleared his throat and consulted his legal pad. “Back to business. Some of this we’ve already covered. Such as, I’ll continue to pay the bills I’ve normally paid.”
“Anything over and beyond that is mine,” Sarah said.
“I don’t know that we need all that in the prenup, though,” he added.
“You said it yourself, we need everything in it. If we cover everything in the prenup there shouldn’t be any hurt feelings when everything ends,” she pointed out.
“Fine.” He scratched a note. “I’ve also provided that when we want to dissolve the marriage—either one of us, or both of us—that it will be ended in the most expedient means possible. There will be no spousal support and child support isn’t in question since we’re not having any—” He stopped.
Sex. They weren’t going to have any sex. That’s what he had been about to say, but as he looked at Sarah he realized that it would be impossible to have sex with her, ever. Making love. That’s what it would be with a woman like Sarah. Not that they were going to do that, either.
“Children,” she filled in for him.
“What?” His mind was still foggy with the images of making love with Sarah.
“There won’t be any children,” she repeated. “Since this isn’t going to be a, well, physical sort of marriage, there’s no question of child support.”
“Right.” He felt suddenly very warm, and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee hoping to cool himself off. Where was their waitress? “Can you think of anything you’d want included?”
“We’d have to have it in writing that neither of us would ever disclose the actual nature of our marriage.�
��
“That’s good.” He scribbled a note. “I can draw this up Monday.”
Softly, Sarah said, “I haven’t agreed. This is all hypothetical.”
Donovan dropped the pen. “Say yes. Don’t think about it, don’t analyze it, just say yes.”
“But talking about a prenup is easy. Going through with a marriage-of-convenience...I just don’t think I have it in me, Donovan. Much as I’d like to help you, I just don’t think I can.”
“Sarah, this might not be a traditional marriage agreement, but I think we both have something to offer the other. And, I’ll be honest, I need you.”
She was quiet for a moment, and Donovan was sure she was going to say no. He felt a wave of...what was that feeling? Disappointment?
Maybe.
But not because he’d wanted to marry her for personal reasons. No. His need for Sarah was business. Purely business.
He wanted to build a flourishing career, to make partner and then to settle back and find a wife, have a family, when he had time for them.
And yet, if he were looking for a woman...
He gazed at the woman across the table from him.
Yes, if he were looking now, he wouldn’t have to look very far.
“Yes,” she said.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Chapter Six
WHAT ON EARTH had she done?
What had she been thinking?
What could possibly have been in those delicious pancakes that would make her agree to such a thing?
No, it wasn’t the pancakes, it was probably the hash browns Donovan had insisted she eat.
Sarah kept asking herself these questions as she sat at her desk the next day pretending to work. But unfortunately she had yet to answer herself.
That was the problem with one-sided conversations...you never got a second opinion. And since this entire situation was hush-hush, just between her and Donovan, the only second-opinion she could get was his, and she didn’t think that was going to help. He’d been the one to talk her into it in the first place. She didn’t have a clue why she’d agreed to make her engagement-of-convenience a marriage-of-convenience.
A Day Late and a Bride Short Page 7