Once Upon a Marriage

by Sara Daniel

  No, she’d never been concerned about that. Getting him to remember she existed was another matter altogether.

  His assistant, Cat, crossed the room and picked up the tray with the prosthetic hand, soupy eyeball, and phone. “I’ll take care of these for you,” she said.

  Armina nodded, but the other girl was too busy extolling Ian’s virtues to notice. Had she once been so starry-eyed? Undoubtedly. What else would have convinced her that a quick business trip should result in something as permanent as marriage while her friends took the more sensible route of one-night stands and random hookups? She steered the conversation to the therapies Frank would need in the coming days.

  Eventually, the dining room lights turned off, leaving them in the dim emergency lighting. “I guess that’s our cue to go to bed.”

  “Oh.” Beth looked around in panic. “Where are the old prosthetics and your uncle’s phone?”

  “Cat already took care of them. The new eye is all ready for Lenny’s implant procedure tomorrow morning. I’ll bring Frank’s new hand to you personally so I can see him fit it on for the first time. And unfortunately, if Ned gets ahold of his phone, brace yourself for him to show everyone the second half of his surgery where the new heart is put in place.”

  The girl snickered. “Thanks, Armina. You’ve thought of everything.”

  “I thought it was my job to think of everything for my guests.” Ian’s rich voice came from directly behind her, sending tremors down her spine.

  Beth jumped to her feet. “Mr. Keer, uh, Ian, of course you always think of everything. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Armina looked over her shoulder, struck by his ridiculously handsome physique. Tall and broad shouldered, with light brown hair just a tad too long to keep him from adhering to the stuffy-businessman stereotype, he looked every bit as capable as he was. “We were discussing the unique needs of the three surgeons, being on the forefront of testing some of the newest limb and organ innovations.”

  “Indeed. They’re lucky to have you to vouch for them. Can I walk you to your room?” He held out his hand to help her up from her seat.

  Without thinking, she placed her palm against his. Before she could reconsider, he closed his fingers around hers. A moment ago she wouldn’t have needed his help to stand, but his touch unsteadied her, forcing her to rely on his strength.

  Beth glanced between them, longing, jealousy, and resignation on her face. “Good night, you two.” She rushed out of the dining room, leaving Armina alone in the semidarkness with her soon-to-be ex-husband.

  Yes, she needed to zero in on the last part of that description. Accepting Ian’s offer to walk her to her room provided the perfect opening. Having retrieved the divorce papers from where he’d abandoned them in the lobby, she’d left them in her room before dinner.

  At the door, she’d have him quickly sign the papers before she let him out of her sight. Then she could fax them to her lawyer and receive the court’s final dissolution before her appointment at the clinic.

  “Did you get a chance to tour the grounds today?” Ian asked, as they walked side by side out of the dining room and into the main corridor.

  “Only the rooms where procedures and therapies are scheduled for Frank and Lenny. I didn’t make it to the wing specializing in lower limbs and joints.”

  “I’d love to give you a personal tour tomorrow, if you’re interested. We’re developing a reputation among serious runners for our prosthetic fittings and therapies. I’d estimate at least eighty percent of those prosthetics are manufactured by your company.”

  “We make a good team,” Armina said. Realizing the intimate way he could interpret her statement, she wanted to kick herself. “Not us, personally. Our companies synergize well together.”

  “They do,” he agreed.

  Although his gaze bored into her, she refused to meet it.

  “And you’re right that we made a good team,” he continued. “Do you ever think it might be worth giving us another shot?”

  Her heart thundered, but she refused to let her emotions rule her decision.

  “Me running the therapies here, while you run everything else and have no time for us on a personal level? No, Ian, I don’t.” Honesty lent conviction to her words and allowed her to meet his intense blue eyes. “I don’t practice physical therapy anymore. I’m busy running Three Surgeons Prosthetics.”

  “Do you miss it?” he asked.

  Whether he meant physical therapy or their defunct partnership, she chose to stick with the professional conversation. “Once in a while, but I’m happy and challenged in my new role, and my therapist background helps me make the best business decisions for favorable outcomes for my customers.”

  He turned in front of her and stopped walking, forcing her to stop, too. “I know we can’t go back to how things were. I’m not asking you to give up the life you’ve created. I’m just trying to understand who you are now and how you’ve changed since we were together.”

  Armina opened her mouth, but found she had no words. She had no intention of sharing the goal that had driven her every decision over the past year. To have a baby before time ran out, she needed his cooperation to ensure a quick divorce.

  “I’ve moved on,” she finally said, not sure she spoke the truth but hoping she did or at least that the words would soon come true. She needed to move on. The next chapter of her life couldn’t be put on hold.

  “I’m not asking you to stop moving on. I just need you to give me a moment to sprint to catch up to you.”

  The crazy-romantic image sent a shot of longing through her, but she couldn’t agree. The new life she was building allowed no room for him. She opened her mouth again, but he placed his index finger against her lips.

  “Don’t answer yet. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. We need to adjust and talk first.” He leaned closer, sliding his finger down, tugging her lower lip out into a pout. Tilting the underside of her chin, he tipped her head up so she stared into his strong, handsome face.

  Enveloping her in the heat from his body, he touched his lips to hers with a profound gentleness. She could have turned her head aside and pointed out they weren’t talking as he’d proposed, but the tenderness and hunger in his eyes captivated her.

  For the first time since their wedding night, she owned his complete attention. The realization imprisoned her in the moment, making her desperate not to distract him into remembering the hundred other things he ought to focus his attention on instead of her.

  He pulled back, leaving a breath of space between their lips. Armina wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and kissing him with a desperation she usually managed to keep locked inside.

  Ian moaned against her lips, trapping her between his rock-solid body and the hallway wall. His pelvis pressed against hers, assuring her every last bit of him was impressively hard.

  She’d told herself she didn’t miss him, but his need, his touch, and his kisses washed over her, proving she hadn’t just missed him, she’d been starved for him. No wonder they’d gone straight from casually dating to married. They were explosive together.

  Summoning all her willpower, she pushed him away. “I’m not going to dry hump in the middle of the hall.”

  “You expect me to believe you’re not wet? I’d be willing to check for proof.” His eyes gleamed with passion.

  She groaned. Of course, she was wet. The thought of his fingers sliding over her clit and inside her slickened her until she became weak with need. “I can’t do this.”

  “Okay. Then we won’t.” As if nothing had happened, he returned to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist, walking her the rest of the way to her room.

  Outside her door, he framed her face with his hands, gliding his fingers over her eyebrows, eyelids, nose, cheekbones, lips, and jaw as if memorizing each feature. “You are so beautiful, Armina. With you in the Inn, I feel alive again.”

  She had to stop his confession befo
re they both got their hearts broken. “Ian—”

  “Shh.” He touched his lips to hers again, bestowing her with a long, slow, and devastatingly thorough kiss. Then he took her key and unlocked her room, holding the door open. “Good night, sweetheart. Dream of me.”

  She didn’t see how she could dream of anything else. Taking back the key, she stumbled inside. After fumbling to lock the door behind her, she leaned against it, replaying their kisses in her head.

  The divorce papers. She’d forgotten about making him sign them. Hell, when he touched her, she forgot she wanted a divorce at all. Ian Keer wasn’t just a threat to her heart. He threatened her dreams for the future. She could not let herself get distracted again.

  ***

  Ian didn’t know whether he’d earned a starring role in Armina’s dreams, but she owned his. If she carried even a fraction of the need he felt for her, they absolutely should not go through with a divorce.

  Although relieved he hadn’t heeded his lawyer’s suggestion to sign the papers and put the relationship behind him, he’d also been wrong to do nothing. She deserved to know her importance in his life and to see him willing to fight to keep her.

  Breakfast was in full swing when he entered the dining room. He immediately sought out Armina’s table where she sat with two of the surgeons, Lenny being absent due to the required fasting before going under anesthesia to have his new eye implanted. Frank ate his breakfast with his left hand, but Ned didn’t lift his silverware.

  Ian was too far away to hear the conversation, but Ned’s tone, gestures, and the flush of his skin conveyed his agitation while Armina attempted to soothe him. Had her uncle gotten wind of last night’s kiss? If so, he ought to take his anger out on Ian.

  Armina picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen. Not the kiss. Something to do with the food had upset him. Good grief, hopefully Ned hadn’t fallen victim to another body-part prank.

  Ian weaved between the tables to intercept his wife, touching her arm when she didn’t immediately notice him.

  “Oh.” She almost dumped the plate in surprise.

  He grabbed the side closest to him, steadying it. “Do you need me to take this? Is there a problem with breakfast?”

  “Yes, please. But I don’t have a problem. I mean, the food is wonderful,” she babbled as she released the plate. Hopefully, his presence flustered her because she remembered their kisses and their bodies pressed together and craved a repeat as much as he did.

  “So there’s not a problem with the food, but Ned refuses to eat any of it?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but you have bacon on the plate as well as ham in the omelet, and Ned is….” She hesitated.

  “Allergic to pork?”

  “No.”

  “Jewish? Muslim? Other religious objections?”

  “Not religious exactly.” She ran a hand through her glossy black hair. “When he had a heart transplant, he didn’t have a normal transplant. He received a pig’s heart.”

  “A pig’s heart?” Even though Ian dealt with unusual operations and fake body parts on a daily basis, the statement still sounded absurd. “I’ve never heard of anyone having a full animal heart transplant.”

  “That’s because it’s not FDA approved. He had to go to a country that doesn’t regulate medical procedures to have it done. But if he’d stayed here and put his name on the transplant waiting list for a human heart, he would have died. Being a surgeon himself, he knew the risks, and he had the contacts to connect with someone who did this under-the-radar operation.”

  His wife’s closest family member had had a pig’s heart placed in his chest, and Ian hadn’t been there to support her. He hadn’t even listened to his messages to know about the situation.

  “Heart surgeons have been using pigs’ valves for a couple decades now,” Armina continued. “So a full transplant is the natural next step, and it’s worked out beautifully for Ned. He’s had virtually no complications. Except, he freaks out at the thought of eating pork. He, uh—” She broke eye contact. “Never mind. You’ll laugh.”

  “What? I promise not to laugh.” He wanted her to confide in him, no matter how ridiculous the confession.

  “He considers eating pork to be cannibalism.”

  “Because he considers himself to be part pig now?” He didn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help smiling.

  Armina grinned in return. “Not exactly, but he does believe he shares a special affinity with the animals and eating their meat would be horribly offensive. As a matter of fact, watching others eat pork tends to offend him.”

  “I’ll note the dietary restriction in his file, and I’ll talk to the chef and the serving staff about making sure you have a pork-free table.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She squeezed his forearm.

  Her sincere appreciation combined with the simple touch made him want to put extra effort into every element of her stay just to bask in the warmth of her thanks again. “It’s good to have you back, Armina.”

  Her smile faded, and she released him. “I’m not staying. I’m only here to support the three surgeons.”

  And to get her damn papers signed. At least she hadn’t mentioned them yet. He hurried to change the subject before she brought it up or, worse, whipped them out. “Lenny should be about ready for surgery.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Yes. If you don’t mind bringing Ned some food he can stomach, I’ll check on Lenny before he goes under.”

  “Something to eat besides pork and eyeballs. That does narrow down the options.”

  Armina laughed, the delighted sound following him to the kitchen as they went their separate ways. All year he’d been searching for a work-life balance to allow him to reach a sense of contentment. For the first time, he luxuriated in that sweet spot, hoping and praying for a way to make it last.

  Chapter Four

  Lenny’s implant procedure went well, and he seemed happy with the new prosthetic immediately. But by the end of the noon meal, he rubbed both his good eye and the new prosthetic.

  Armina reached up and gently tugged his hands away from his face. “Lenny, you can’t rub your eyes, especially this soon after surgery. Give it time to heal.”

  “Something’s not right. Why am I seeing a mouse on my plate?”

  “It’s a canned pear half,” she assured him.

  “It looks like a mouse,” he insisted. “Everyone has mice on their plates.”

  As if Ned’s pig fetish wasn’t enough, Lenny had to top it with a mouse obsession. If she returned the pears to the kitchen, Ian would think her entire group was certifiable. “What else do you see?”

  “Nothing, because my real eye is tearing up so badly.”

  “Good.” Frank smirked and flexed his new prosthetic hand. “Then you won’t notice when I steal your bourbon flask.”

  Armina frowned. Her company specialized in prosthetic limbs, not eyes, leaving her unsure how to proceed. She caught Ian’s gaze across the room and motioned to him. Despite trying not to stare as he strode over, she couldn’t look away. His presence and magnetism assured everyone that he had everything under control. She needed his assurance more than she wanted to admit.

  “Armina, surgeons.” He nodded to everyone in turn. “Frank, you’re sporting quite the nice-looking hand. Ned, I’m glad to see lunch is agreeing with you.”

  Indeed, Uncle Ned was scarfing down everything on his plate, even the decorative lettuce leaf his pear sat on.

  “Lenny, let’s see your new eye.” He knelt next to Armina’s chair. “Hmm, interesting design in the iris. It reminds me of a cat’s eye.”

  “That explains why I’m seeing mice everywhere.”

  Ian looked confused, then affronted. “You see rodents in my dining room?”

  “No.” Armina placed her hand on his shoulder, automatically wanting to soothe him as she quickly explained Lenny’s complaints. “Is this a common complication? I’m not really sure what he n
eeds.”

  “We’ve had a few complaints of itching and rubbing before. The symptoms have gone away after a few days of putting a special salve over the prosthetic. Tell you what, I’m going to call a specialist to come by this afternoon and take a look. We’ll get to the bottom of it, Lenny.” He patted the man’s arm then smiled around the table. “What else can I help you with?”

  He’d given her an opening, and once again she’d left the divorce papers in her room. “I need to make an appointment with you. Personal business. However, I’m working with Frank and his physical therapist all afternoon. Are you free after dinner?”

  Ian’s smile faded and he rose to his full height. “I don’t do office appointments after dinner, part of my resolution to cut down on my work hours. And I can’t make an exception, even for you. However, I’d be happy to meet you outside for a stroll through the flower garden.”

  Considering their “stroll” in the hall last night had ended in a kissing frenzy, she knew better than to tempt fate with a romantic garden walk. On the other hand, he’d agreed to see her, and she had to get the papers signed.

  Between the medications to control her endometriosis and those to increase her fertility, she had the best chance of her life of being able to carry a baby. She’d always regret it if she didn’t jump on the opportunity before it was too late.

  “In the garden,” she agreed.

  He trailed his fingers along the base of her neck as he walked away, leaving her shivering with need and longing for evening.

  “Are you meeting him in the garden to finalize your divorce, or to make out?” Uncle Ned asked.

  Good question. The answer of her heart shouted in direct opposition to the response from her head. Luckily, she had all afternoon to get her priorities in order.

  ***

  Standing on the path in the flower garden, Ian turned to face the Inn. The door leading from the dining room opened, and Armina sauntered toward him, the sunset shimmering off her hair. His heart stuttered.