by Iris Leach
He stirred in his chair. “Hey, look, this isn’t my idea of fun.”
“You think I want to be tied to you, think again, mister.”
“Married to you? Why it’d be simpler and saner to marry Medusa. All I need with her is a blindfold. With you I’d need the strength of Hercules double-folded.”
“And you think I’m drooling at the corners of my mouth at the thought of being tied to you?” Charli snapped. “Get real. And don’t think for one moment that I’m going to consider this ridiculous proposal. I have no intention of marrying you or anyone for that matter. I could think of nothing worse. You’re rude, insufferable, and utterly arrogant. I’d rather marry a Martian with a horn for a head than marry you.”
“Please be quiet for at least a minute. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve had something to say and most of it never made any sense.”
Charli shook her head. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe I’d — you’d — ”
“Shut up,” he yelled and then drew in a deep breath. “Sorry about the yelling. Our baby needs a daddy. And, at this time in your life, you need protection. I can offer both. We could make a go of this if we remain cool and logical.”
“I agree the baby needs a father, it’s marrying you that sticks in my neck.”
“I’d never intended getting married again. Once, believe me, was truly enough. Have you got any romantic ideas about love and marriage?”
Yes, I have. I want someone who’ll court me until I fall for him and he falls in love with me. I want someone who’ll love me forever. We’ll eat popcorn and potato chips watching television, I want dogs and cats and fish in a bowl and I want us to go bowling every Friday night. And when the kids are asleep in bed, I want to be with him in front of a roaring fire and make love. “No.”
“Good, good. Let’s look at this logically — .”
Only the facts, ma’am. “Logic is so far better a word than romantic.”
“What?”
“I want my job back as CE.” She studied her fingernails.
“What? No way.”
“Then no deal.” She stood.
He waved her back to her seat. “If I agree then you’ll marry me?”
Then, before she could control the words, she said, “You don’t love me.”
“Now you’re being childish. Love doesn’t enter the equation. This marriage will work out because it lacks love. Don’t you see? Can’t you understand? There’s no pretense about love. This is an arrangement for both business and — ”
“You were going to say pleasure,” she cut in.
“You’d be hard to resist; you’re a beautiful woman.”
“That’s made my day.”
“Look, I’m only trying to help make the situation bearable.”
“Bearable? Hell, you have a way with words. A nasty way.”
His eyes flashed sparks of chipped emeralds, but his voice was passive when he spoke. “And you’re Miss Sweetness and Light, I suppose, who wouldn’t hurt a fly?”
She sprung out of her chair, her fingers spread, her nails flashing. “Why you — you rat.”
He followed suit, almost rushing around the table to stand in front of her. “That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? That makes you feel virtuous about the whole affair. The poor innocent maiden forced to marry the wicket tyrant. Well, if that’s what it takes to get you to marry me, okay, I can live with that.”
He towered over her and the sheer nearness of him was suffocating. Her hand flew to her throat, determined not to allow her senses to reel under his potency. From the moment she’d met him, Will had projected this power over her, made her head spin along with her heart.
She hoped her stare would turn him to stone as she said haughtily. “What will we tell everyone at work?”
“That we’re getting married.”
“They’ll be shocked, and that’s putting it mildly.”
He shrugged. “It’s none of their business. We’ll be the talk of the office for a week or two and then we’ll be old news.”
“I don’t want them knowing about the baby.”
“What does it matter who knows?”
She bristled at his insensitivity. “If they know, Will, they’ll know we had to get married and not for love.”
His eyes softened. “That would hurt?”
Her turn to shrug. Yes, it hurts because I want you to love me. What? Where did that come from? Will love her? This was a straight-out shotgun wedding and she was a woman who could handle anything that came her way and come out smelling of roses. Couldn’t she? “Stupid pride I guess. I’d like them to think we’re in love.”
He reached over and touched her hand. She drew back as if she’d been burned. They remained silent until Will said. “Is that all your conditions?”
“Yes.”
“And if I agree, you’ll marry me?”
“Yes, but don’t expect me to sleep with you. That’s asking too much.”
He grinned. “Aww, shucks,” he said.
“And I don’t want you flaunting your women in front of me. I hope you can remain chaste until after the baby’s born?”
“You think I’m a sex addict?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
“A year’s a long time without sex.”
“Take up knitting. It’ll keep your hands occupied.”
“It’s not my hands I’m worried about.”
Despite his quip, he seemed dejected but it could have been the moonlight streaming through the window and casting his face in shadow. “Our parents need to know that we’re getting married. That’s a given, we don’t have to tell them about the baby until much later.”
“Are we going to say it’s a premature birth?”
He frowned. “They won’t care once they have their grandchild in their arms.”
“That’s so true.” She raked a hand back through her hair and exhaled.
She cursed herself for her brusqueness. They were in this situation together. She knew what she was getting into and so did Will. So why the ravished maiden act every time he reminded her of the reason they were marrying? Because it hurt so damn much, that’s why.
Chapter Nine
Getting to know you. Walks in the rain. Holding hands. Kissing.
Charli was in the living room in an old tracksuit lying on the floor following exercises from her workout pregnancy tape. She liked the tape as loud as she could reasonably have it. It saved her mind from being distracted by any other sound that filtered through her window from the street outside.
She was calmer today. The incredible pressure and tension of the past days had gone and she was determined to remain this way; allowing nothing or no one to alter this feeling of semi-peace.
Following the tape, Charli lay on her back with her knees bent. Inhaled through her nose and tightened her stomach and buttock muscles. Flattened the small of her back against the floor and allowed her pelvis to tilt upward.
His head, poking through the open window, loomed down at her from between her stretched legs. Startled, she said, “Please go away. You’re ruining my concentration.”
“My concentration’s lapsing too.”
She jumped to her feet and ran her hands down the sides of her pants. He gave her a brief scrutiny. If he made any crack about what she was wearing she’d throw the nearest thing she could grab at him. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“I rang your doorbell for a good two minutes. Just going to give up when I saw this window open.”
“So you poke your head through and scare me half to death?”
“It was an open invitation to me and every thief within a mile radius. Besides, I have certain privileges.”
“How come?”
“Goes with rank.” He grinned and with supreme effort, she controlled her mouth from responding. “Open the front door.”
He winked when she opened the door. “Hi, just passing by, saw your lights on and thought hey, she might give me a cup of coff
ee.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” She moved back into the living room, picked up a towel and wiped her face and arms.
He laughed softly and took the towel from her and wiped the back of her neck and shoulders. She swung angrily away from him, grabbing the towel. “I don’t need a nursemaid, thanks, Will. I’m perfectly capable of dry toweling my body.”
“And it was giving me such pleasure.”
She flicked her hair. “Too bad.” She sniffed.
“Why are you always so angry?”
“I’m not angry, it’s just that you make me feel — ”
He moved in closer. “Sexy?”
“Queasy.”
“Is that a nice word for nauseated?”
She worried her bottom lip. She didn’t actually want to hurt him by acerbic retorts, but she wanted to put him in his rightful place, wherever that may be and it was true he did make her feel uneasy, a sort of seasickness sensation she always got when he was around her.
She’d nothing to fear from Will Knight. He didn’t affect her in any way except maybe her libido.
She could handle him. The situation. Why she could handle anything that came her way with both hands tied behind her back.
She lusted after Will. He was, except for his arrogance and stubborn streak, a gorgeous man. And he turned her on hot and willing. It’d been a long time since a man had had that power over her. Who was she kidding? She’d never known a man who had tingled as much as her big toe. When Will kissed her, she’d actually heard bells. Now, that had to mean something, didn’t it?
Holy crap. She didn’t want his kisses to mean anything to her. She didn’t want this man with an ego the size of Mount Everest to affect her in the slightest way.
A conundrum. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. So what had been the problem? Why had she sent him packing and crept back into her lonely bed like a nun on retreat?
It didn’t make sense.
It must be that she was confused. Yes, that was it; total confusion. He was harassing her about marriage and, and — she mentally sighed — and every other damn thing she’d always wanted in her life.
It couldn’t be love. Love didn’t just happen. It was an over-the-years-and-took-patience-and-understanding type of occurrence. It was courtship, deepening affection, love, and marriage.
What was happening now? She was caught up in a web of excitement like some helpless fly and Will the spider coming to eat her. Hmm.
She changed the subject completely. “I’m about to have a coffee, want some?”
He nodded, and followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed the percolator and filled it with water.
He slumped onto a chair. “My mother wants to meet you. We’re invited for dinner next Saturday.”
She jerked. Water splashed over her hand and arms. With trembling fingers, she scooped coffee into the filter and put the coffee on to percolate. She slumped into a chair opposite him. She stretched out her feet and stared dejectedly at her toes. “Does — ” she swallowed, “Does your mother know about us already?”
“She does.”
His confirmation in those two controlled words had her rising out of her chair, only to find he had risen as well. He moved to stand directly in front of her.
Charli was horrified. “How could you tell her so soon? I wasn’t ready. I need time to gather my thoughts. I have to think about things. This is too fast.” She grabbed his sweater and shook him. “You’ve got to give me time.”
He prized free her fear-stricken fingers. “Hey, go easy. You’re bending the wool.”
She curled her fingers. “How about I bend your neck?”
“Come on, Honey. She had to know some time.”
Charli groaned inwardly. The situation was going from bad to worse; fast. “Was she surprised?”
“You could say that.”
“Was she pleased?”
“It’s difficult to tell.”
“Then she was displeased?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Then what would you say?”
“I’d say she was shocked.”
“Oh, God.”
Charli’s head was swimming. To think that he’d gone and told his mother when she was still planning the right words as to how she could break the news to her father. Nothing seemed to faze this man. He was accepting their marriage as if it was an everyday event, and yet she knew how hurt he was over his wife’s desertion. The pain of grief and humiliation he’d suffered. He must have taken a vow never to trust his heart to another woman, and who could blame him?
And now he was marrying her to give his child his name so no fingers could ever be pointed at him. Will couldn’t be a long-distance daddy, she knew this. He’d want to share and care with him. To protect and love him as a father should. What about me? I need love too.
A cloud of despondency settled around her head. Her mind wandered and her eyes fluttered closed …
I’m standing tall, the light from yonder window curling a golden halo around my head. I fold my arms across my breast and intone, “I’ll never sacrifice my honor. I reject the idea of marrying for anything less than love.”
Will flings himself at my feet picking up the hem of my dress And kissing it fervently, says, “But it is love, my Honey. I love you more than anything in the entire world.” Standing, he scoops me into his arms and presses his hot mouth against my eager own. My blood heats as every nerve in my body responds. I want him desperately. I want him inside me. Only Will can satisfy this urgent need.
Bells sound.
Her eyes flew wide open. Oh my God, I’m in love with William Knight.
She wasn’t marrying Will to appease their parents, or even her wonderful job back at Knight Books. She wanted Will. This was worse than anything she could ever imagine. She’d have to fight this feeling of love for him because it would cause her more grief than she’d ever known. In love with a man who would never, could never love her back.
“Hell-lo-o, anyone home?”
“What?”
“You were picking daisies again. What I said was, don’t go making mountains out of molehills; allowing that crazy imagination of yours to go riot.”
“I shall make whatever I want out of whatever I want.” She sniffed. “And my imagination is as normal as anyone’s, thanks very much.”
He laughed. “I’ve never known a woman like you,” he said.
Miffed, she straightened. “Is this some sort of compliment, Will, or should I expect the rug ripped out from under me, yet again?”
He reached over and touched her hair, running his fingers down the side of her face. Power surge. If only she didn’t have this fantastic desire for Will. Every time he touched her she melted. She had to keep reminding herself what this marriage was all about. There was no love involved. There never would be.
Yet even knowing that, each time she was with him her feelings for him deepened. How could she possibly live with him in the same house and remain sane.
Her mantra for the week; I will not love Will. I will not love Will.
She moved to the cupboard, took down mugs and filled them with coffee. “Milk and sugar?”
“Three.”
She gawked. “Three sugars?”
“I’ve got a sugar fixation.” He patted his top pocket. “Always got a chocolate bar on me.”
“That’s being prepared, if you get lost in the bush, that is.” She handed him his coffee and resumed her seat. He followed suit. “And she wants to meet me?”
“Yep, she sure does. What’s wrong with that? Every mother wants to meet the woman her son plans to marry.” He studied her face. “When do you think you’ll tell your father?”
Charli gasped weakly. Telling her father about her impending marriage wasn’t her idea of a good time. Whatever would he think? Pain filled her heart. He wouldn’t care one way or the other. As far as her father was concerned, Charli could marry whom she pleased. He no longer cared if she was happy or s
ad. The day her mother died she had lost both her parents. How could she explain this to Will?
“My father?” she said, vaguely seeking time to find the right answer to give Will.
“Yeah, the man you grew up with. Remember him?”
“Don’t be insulting.”
He sighed. “Look, Honey. We’re getting married. There’s family involved. We have to tell our parents. We have to tell your father.” He lowered his head and peered into her eyes. She blinked. “Are you grasping any of this?”
“It’s too soon,” she argued.
“Tonight, tomorrow, or next week, the meeting is inevitable so why put it off? You’re not on trial; this is just a meeting between you and my mother.”
“She’ll expect something better than me,” she pouted.
“What the hell?” he said. “What are you prattling on about now?”
“The poor secretary marrying the rich boss. The old, old story. Your mother will think I’ve trapped you somehow into marriage.”
He raised an eyebrow. “For one thing you aren’t my secretary and another is you’re not smart enough to trap me.”
“You are unforgivably insulting.”
“There are two ways we can go about this thing,” Will was saying. “We can tell our parents the truth and break their hearts, or we can pretend we love each other. The choice is yours, but whatever you choose, whichever way you go, the ending is still the same.”
Fear struck deep within her; Will was right, whatever happened there was no getting out of it.
Chapter Ten
A gentleman should tip his hat when meeting a lady on the street.
Charli changed for the fifth time, throwing the discarded dress on top of the others, which were lying in crumpled mess across the bed.
She didn’t know what to wear. This wasn’t a casual outing; she was to meet William’s mother and quite frankly, she was scared witless.
She stared vacantly into her wardrobe; something not too elaborate yet sophisticated. She flicked through her clothes, wishing she’d followed her first instinct and bought something new. Sighing deeply, she spun away from the wardrobe and fell across the bed on top of her discarded clothes and stared at the ceiling.