Married by Monday (Weekday Brides)

by Catherine Bybee

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  She ripped open a tea bag and placed the packet inside a cup. Each movement was slow and deliberate. “I don’t know,” she finally said.

  From the confusion set behind her eyes, he believed she was just as torn about revealing her secrets as he was torn up for not knowing them.

  “Are you going to tell me anything? Like did you know those detectives?” He asked both questions deliberately.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t fall for his bait. “I’ll tell you what I want, when I want. Yes and no questions aren’t going to work to whittle away answers.”

  An entire line of questions, ones he’d practiced en route to her home, now needed to be rewritten in his head. “I hope you know you can trust me.” Not a question. She couldn’t diss him for that.

  “This isn’t about trust.”

  He should take some comfort in that.

  She brought the tea up to her lips and blew across the hot beverage. She peeked over the brim to look at him.

  “Since we’re talking about trust,” she started. “What the hell was all of that about marriage earlier?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “I suppose you could say I’m following Blake’s lead. Marriage solves a few fundamental problems in my career path.”

  She stared at him full on now, not trying to look away. “Your problems. Not mine.”

  “Problems you helped play a role in.” He saw the spark in her eye before she managed her first syllable of defense.

  She sat the tea down and placed a hand on the counter. “That’s low, Carter.”

  “And true or you’d be the first to tell me I’m wrong. If I had a choice, I’d be married by Monday to help dispel all the media crap created by yours and Gwen’s night on the Texas town. I thought I could come to you and obtain a little bit of cooperation.”

  “A little bit of cooperation. Marriage is a tad more than a little bit of anything.” Her voice rose and her knuckles started to grip the counter.

  “Yet you earn your living arranging marriages or partnerships on trite reasons less important than mine.” How dare she follow a moral high ground. Maybe she’d forgotten how well versed he was on her and Samantha’s business.

  “You forget that our clients have to approve of the relationships we arrange. They have to like the person—”

  He laughed, interrupting her. “Do you really want to pretend we aren’t friends to prove your point?”

  Her cheeks grew rosy which he had to admit was a much better than the pasty color she’d been sporting when he walked into the house. He felt the fire burning inside her as she shot daggers with her eyes.

  “You’re my best friend’s husband’s friend. If you’re looking for a wife you might peek into your little black book, or whatever it is you use, and draw another name.”

  Carter let his arms drop and took two steps closer. The angrier she became, the more his blood churned. His body responded to her outrage, but not in anger. “I don’t want to draw another name.”

  “Well you need to. As far as I see it, you and I hardly get along. We have nothing in common and can’t be in the same room for more than an hour without getting into an argument.”

  True. All of what she said was true.

  He moved into her personal space, felt the heat of her skin, and sensed the spark of her temper. Her eyes shifted as he approached, but she didn’t slide away. Stubborn woman, she simply glared daring him to prove her wrong. Well, he intended to do just that.

  “You’re ignoring one thing that proves you’re the perfect wife for me.”

  She tilted her chin in defiance. “Oh, yeah…what’s that?”

  “This.” He swept her into his arms and captured her lips in the space of one breath. He was banking on her willful nature to accept his kiss and she didn’t disappoint. Her lips were an explosion of taste on his.

  She let out a tiny whimper as her eyes fluttered closed. Molding his body to hers, he made sure she felt his growing desire. Her soft curves ignited his body and left his brain mush.

  He ran his tongue over her lips and demanded acceptance. He’d waited so long to be where he was at this point, he wasn’t coming up for air even if his head grew dizzy and the lights faded.

  Her fingers found his arms and gripped him hard. For a brief moment, he thought she’d push him away. He should have known better. Eliza tilted her head and opened enough for him to devour her. Their tongues dueled, both fighting for control over their growing passion. Her kiss was everything he’d ever dreamed it would be. He could smell the sandalwood musk she used as perfume. Something he’d always identified as uniquely hers. No flowers or overly sweet designer perfumes would do her justice.

  Carter slid a hand around her waist and nibbled on the edge of her lips.

  Her hand drifted between his suit jacket and kneaded his back before dipping lower over his ass.

  Sweet lord he wanted her. He released her lips only to move on to her chin and neck, trailing kisses and learning the spots on her body that made her whimper.

  She sighed and tilted her hips into his. She trembled and searched for more contact. Carter slid between her thighs and lifted her with ease onto the cool granite countertop.

  Eliza pushed his jacket from his shoulders.

  He tossed it to the side in a rush. Even with their clothes on, her body searched for his, begging to be touched, to be fulfilled.

  He wanted to make love with her, needed to prove they were more than friends. A tiny voice in the back of his head warned him that she was vulnerable tonight. Spent from a taxing day filled with reporters and cops.

  But as he filled his palm with her breast and her nipple tightened into a small bud of need, he knew he couldn’t walk away from her now without igniting her anger. He pinched her nipple, and she let out an uncharacteristic squeak. He brought his lips back to hers and smiled under her kiss.

  Eliza gripped his hips and moved against him. She should be pushing him away, stopping this reckless act that wouldn’t end well.

  She couldn’t. Living her life the way she had, never knowing what tomorrow would bring made her want this more than taking her next breath. Somewhere between dodging Jim and Dean and cocktails on the beach, Eliza realized that through all her bravado, she might just have to uproot her entire life in order to stay alive.

  That meant saying goodbye to Carter. Saying goodbye to those she’d foolishly allowed into her heart.

  So when Carter found the waistband of her pants and pushed his way inside, Eliza didn’t stop him. Instead, she lifted away from the counter and opened her legs wider.

  He sought the damp heat of her sex, and sparks danced behind her closed eyes. Eliza gasped under his kiss as his fingers discovered her tight need and began to unravel her passion. One of her legs wound around his as she struggled to breathe.

  She could feel the weight of his stare as he watched her under his hooded gaze. There was no room for embarrassment here. Only the need to find the promised release.

  “Yes,” she whispered, moving with him. She wanted more than his fingers dancing over her sex, but she’d settle for this.

  Her cries grew more frantic and her core dampened his fingers. He moved faster and penetrated her with a skillful digit. She gripped him with every muscle of her body as he pushed her over the edge. “Oh, Carter.”

  He moved slowly a few times. She trembled in an overexcited response after her orgasm. Eliza dropped her head onto his shoulder as he removed his hand and caressed her hip.

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” she mumbled. He probably expected her to fight, but she was out of energy and at a loss of words.

  “Shh,” he hushed her. “We’ve been sniffing around this for years.”

  She nodded and didn’t trust herself to speak.

  After a brief hug and a kiss to her forehead, he stepped back, keeping his hands on her arms.

  Eliza adjusted her clothing and met his gaze. “What abo
ut you?” she asked when she caught sight of his aroused state.

  “We’re good,” he assured her with a half smile.

  Her eyes dipped as fatigue took over.

  “I should go,” he said.

  They’d pushed through enough boundaries for one night. And if he felt secure that she’d be here tomorrow, he wouldn’t feel the need to keep watch on her all night.

  Chapter Eight

  Sleep eluded him most of the night. Finally, at four in the morning Carter gave up and took a tepid shower. Beat the hell out of the freezing cold one he’d taken the night before. He’d do it all again. One taste of Eliza was not going to be enough. He knew it wouldn’t be. Maybe that was why he didn’t give into the urge to kiss her over the past two years. The verbal sparring was the only release of the sexual tension that had built.

  Not anymore. During the few hours of rest he’d managed, he cleared his head of the emotions clogging his thought processes and realized what he needed to do was to learn Eliza’s secrets.

  He shoved into a Friday casual suit, leaving the tie and jacket off until he needed to leave his house.

  The kitchen wasn’t a place he spent much time, but he could manage a small breakfast. He set the coffee maker to brew and fired up his computer.

  Searching for Eliza Havens before her eighteenth birthday had already come up empty. “You didn’t drop out of the sky,” he said to himself. He ran a search on her last name and surprisingly didn’t come up with much other than the media coverage from the day before and anything concerning Blake and Samantha. There were a few photos taken of different social events over the last couple of years. In each one, Eliza’s face was partially hidden from view. Even one of the two of them at Blake’s Texas wedding. It was almost as if Eliza knew the camera was pointed at her and she didn’t want her face seen.

  Carter poured himself a cup of black coffee and out of habit turned on the television set to the news. The last he heard, the media coverage from the day before was still painting him in a dim light. Yet instead of doing whatever he could to grow his points in the polls, he was searching the net to uncover Eliza’s past.

  What did he really know about her? He removed a legal pad from his desk and wrote her name at the top of the page.

  Age? He didn’t know. He guessed it to be in her late twenties.

  Parents? She never spoke of them. In fact, she never spoke of family at all. He placed a big question mark by the word parents.

  Born? He assumed California. She didn’t talk about living anywhere else.

  School? Carter ran a hand through his hair and tossed the pen on the desk.

  Jesus, he knew nothing about her. How shitty was that?

  After a couple more sips of coffee, he turned the page of the pad over and wrote down what he did know.

  Eliza Havens, he scribbled her name and circled it twice.

  He’d known her for two years. She’d been Samantha’s friend for several before that.

  He wrote down other words that came to mind when her image flashed in his brain. Smart. Resourceful. Goal Oriented. Beautiful. Witty. Secretive. Carries a gun. He circled this twice.

  Why would someone carry a gun? Law enforcement or federal officer, but that didn’t make sense. Up until yesterday, he’d not seen her around any official of any kind. Then those two detectives knocked on the door.

  Carter dropped his hand on his desk. “Of course.” He wasn’t looking in the right place for answers.

  It was just after five in the morning. Too early to call in favors.

  He warmed up his coffee and started a search in the LAPD profile to see if he could recognize the faces of the men who showed up at his door.

  An hour later, he had two names. Dean Brown and James Fletcher. Long time detectives in good standing with the department. They were under the heading of Special Operations. How generic could it get.

  He picked up the phone and dialed a contact in New York.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey Roger, it’s Carter.”

  Carter had known Roger even longer than he’d known Blake. The two of them operated in different worlds now, but at one time, they’d been close. “Well hello, governor. How the hell are you?”

  “I’m not the governor yet.”

  “Give it time, give it time,” his friend chuckled. “What has you calling me?”

  “Can’t a guy call a friend?”

  “Ha! You’re too busy for friends. Especially those of us who never left New York.”

  Carter could hear the busy station in the background of the call, phones ringing and someone swearing up a blue streak. Criminal or cop, it was hard to tell. Sadly, Roger spoke the truth. There were very few people Carter kept up with unless the involved climbing to the next tier of his career.

  “How’s Beverly?”

  “Good. Ready to pop any day.”

  Carter cradled his head in his free hand. He’d forgotten all about her pregnancy. “Everything’s good though? The baby and mom are doing fine?”

  “She’s great. Roger Junior should be here by the end of the month.”

  “Do you know if it’s a boy?”

  Roger huffed. “Doctor said the cord was in the way of a good view, but I’d like to think that cord was just my boy taking after his old man. Besides having a girl scares the crap out of me.”

  Carter envisioned Roger and his two hundred plus pounds holding a six-pound infant. What a sight. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

  There was a pause on the line. “So, why are you really calling? Need a little help counselor?”

  Carter took his pen and flipped the pages of his desk calendar and scribbled Rogers name on a random date a couple of weeks away. He really did need to check on his friend and his expecting wife just to see how they were. “I do have a couple of questions you might be able to help me with.”

  Roger didn’t seem pissed that he was right about a reason for the call. “Shoot.”

  “I ran into a couple of LAPD detectives who work under the title of Special Operations. Any idea what that could be?”

  “Could be anything from homicide to making sure someone like you is protected against a viable threat. Where did you meet these two?”

  “They wanted to talk to my…to a friend of mine. She didn’t seem surprised to see them.”

  “A friend huh?”

  “A special friend,” Carter said.

  “What else can you tell me?”

  Carter debated his options. He gave Roger a small profile of Eliza. Told him she was an engaging, intelligent woman whose private life was her own. He ended his description by telling Roger that she carried a handgun.

  “What’s she afraid of?” Roger asked him.

  “I don’t know. She’s not a needy woman. In fact, she managed to lose my bodyguard and the two detectives in broad daylight.”

  “You sure she’s not a cop?”

  “Positive.”

  “You gonna give me her name or are you gonna make me guess?”

  With all the media painting Eliza as his girlfriend, Carter knew Roger would figure it out sooner than later. “Eliza Havens. You know I need this kept quiet.”

  “Well, I guess I should stop updating my Facebook page then,” Roger teased. “I got your back. Let me do a little digging. If she is carrying legally, there will be a traceable record as to her reason why. Getting a conceal and carry for a civilian is damn near impossible in California. Here too,” he added. “Makes me glad I’m a cop.”

  “Thanks Roger.”

  “Oh, do you have a name on the detectives?”

  Carter gave him the names, and they said their goodbyes.

  ****

  Eliza lifted the wig in the bottom of her closet and cringed. She’d forced herself out of bed early, fully intending to pack a bag and move on.

  Now she sat cross-legged in front of her half filled suitcase with doubts.

  She and Samantha had built an amazing friendship. Little Eddie was like a
nephew to Eliza, and she couldn’t imagine not seeing his chubby little face grow up. Even Gwen and all her pent-up haughty ways had grown on her.

  Then there was Alliance. The business Samantha had started and they now ran together. Eliza envisioned some of the women she’d grown to know through Alliance. Some of them came from ugly families who’d used their children like pawns on a chessboard to get what they’d wanted. These women searching out husbands to keep them financially stable did so to get what they wanted and to tick off their families. Each story was unique. Each one believable.

  When she thought about it, Eliza’s story wasn’t as sad as some. At least her parents had loved her before their deaths.

  She remembered their voices at times in the night when everything was still and quiet. The soft way her mother would speak to her and tell her a bedtime story. Her father always called her pumpkin in his deep, booming voice.

  Her parents had this crazy love that wrapped around her and kept her safe.

  And in one night, all of that shattered into a zillion pieces.

  Eliza swiped a tear from her face and forced the painful memories aside. She missed having a family to call her own and had found some of that love with her friends.

  She shoved away from the suitcase and jumped to her feet. After a fast rummage though her drawers, she found the outfit she was looking for and put it on.

  She wouldn’t run. Not yet. She’d take Jim’s advice and duck out of the public eye. Brush up on a few moves that kept her confident, if not safe.

  And she’d watch.

  She’d listen.

  And run like hell if her past wanted to catch up with her and threaten those she’d grown to love.

  ****

  Dean sucked in a full lung of nicotine and let it stream out between pursed lips. He’d tried kicking the habit over the years and finally gave into the fact that he was a smoker. Wasn’t going to change no matter how much gum he chewed or how many bogus psychological bullshit tapes he listened to.

  He’d been a cop since his early twenties, had said “I do” twice, and then gave up half his shit twice again to say “I sure as hell don’t.”

  There were very few constants in his life. Jim was the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had and even his own daughter didn’t go out of the way to call, even on Father’s day.