Seeing the domestic side of Marco again, Carly couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this afternoon. My assistant made a doctor’s appointment for me yesterday—I thought I had the flu or something—and you have to agree it was hardly the time or place.”
“You’re telling me.”
“The whole thing is such a shock,” she said, knowing she was repeating everything she’d already told him.
“Hell, yeah.” Marco moved about the kitchen. There was a firm set to his jaw and his expression was hooded. The kettle whistled and automatically switched off. He placed two cups on a tray then poured the boiling water and carried the tray to where she sat.
She tried again. “It takes two, Marco. We both forgot the condom.”
“You said you were protected,” he countered.
“When we both remembered…um, afterward, it was too late.”
“Too lost in the moment.”
“Something like that,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t have allowed us to, um, you know, be together again without protection.”
“Lucky we had condoms then, wasn’t it?”
Carly’s embarrassment increased. “I hoped it wouldn’t happen. What were the chances of getting pregnant the first time we…”
“Had sex,” he finished for her. “But we did.”
“I didn’t want you to worry. What good would it have done to tell you that I wasn’t protected?”
“Too late for that, isn’t it? But you should have told me.”
She nodded.
“And the doctor says the baby is healthy?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Growing well.”
Marco gave a curt nod. “Tell me something. If we hadn’t met by chance again today, would you have taken the time to try to find me? To let me know I was going to be a father?”
“I…I…don’t know. I’m sorry, but I don’t. In my experience, most men aren’t too thrilled to have a pregnant woman from their past show up in their lives again, making demands. And believe me, I wasn’t interested in trying to use the baby to get a husband or, for that matter, a contract.”
“I have a right to be angry, don’t you think?”
“Why? Angry about what exactly? What I might have done if we hadn’t met again? Tell the truth, don’t you mean angry with yourself for letting this happen to you? For getting carried away and fathering a child with a woman you hardly know?”
“And don’t you mean, we both got carried away, cara.”
“I didn’t know how to contact you, Marco. I had no idea who you really were. Being angry with me makes no sense.”
Wordlessly, Marco passed her a cup of tea, and she sat. He didn’t follow, but remained standing and started to pace the room, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts. Watching him going back and forth made her dizzy.
“If you don’t stop that, you’ll wear a track in your Aubusson,” she said, trying to lighten the cheerless pall that hung between them. He halted in front of her, and her heart skipped a beat. “Sit down. You’ll give me a crick in the neck. Besides, if you’re trying to scare me into marrying you, you’re failing.”
He remained standing.
Who was the liar now? The idea of marriage scared her witless, but in her heart she’d already made up her mind.
Marco hadn’t spoken for a long time, making her edgy. She shoved her hands beneath her to stop them from shaking and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Letting him see her nerves wouldn’t help her cause.
“You asked me to marry you,” she said, pushing herself out of the chair. Facing your opponent was better than having him tower over you, she reasoned. But the moment she was eye to eye with him, Carly realized she was in trouble.
If anything, Marco was better in the flesh than in her memory, and, nervously, her tongue licked over her lips as her mind whirred with erotic memories of the two of them making love, laughing, kissing until breathless.
Yep, in the flesh was infinitely better.
“Our baby needs stability, not a parent who comes and goes at a whim,” Marco admonished.
Carly gasped. “You think I would do that?” A caustic anger stirred in the pit of her stomach that he thought so little of her. “That kind of life belongs to my sisters, not me.”
“I wasn’t talking about you, Carly.”
“What do you mean then?”
“I mean, you’re not the only one who had a…shall we say, a disrupted childhood. I’m not prepared to be a deadbeat father who pops in at birthdays and the odd Christmas.”
“You don’t have to marry me to see our child or be a part of its life.”
“I don’t want to ‘see’ my child. I want to live with my child every day. And I assume you do, too?”
For several extended minutes, Carly simply looked at Marco. This was another man, a man who seemed both hunted and haunted. She remembered the man who lovingly cared for her, caressed her. She remembered the way he made her feel—deep down.
She shook her head. The man before her was cold, hard, calculating and manipulative; so very different, yet still hauntingly similar.
Finally, she spoke. “Okay. We’ll marry.”
Dear God, had she really said that?
But as soon as the words slid from her lips, the few inches between them disappeared as Marco pulled her to him. Heat radiating from his body scorched every nerve cell in hers. She had to force herself to keep her hands at her sides, when what she wanted to do was to wrap them around his neck, pull him to her and kiss him senseless. Battling a sensory instinct that warred between her brain and her body, she dredged up every ounce of control she possessed and stepped back.
Surprise showed on Marco’s face. “Just like that?”
Carly hesitated a fraction, but long enough to clarify in her own mind what she had to do. She would marry Marco—on her terms.
History told her men weren’t reliable. Eventually, they walked. Just like her father. She wouldn’t—no couldn’t—trust that much.
Their baby would have a father, but she would keep her distance, keep her emotions tightly reined in. “Yes, just like that. However, I have some stipulations if I’m going to agree to this marriage.”
“Rules?”
She nodded and dragged her gaze away from his and retreated across the room. Space and distance from this man was imperative right now. “If we are to marry, then it’s in name only. Nothing else.”
A muscle in Marco’s cheek jerked, indicating his obvious surprise. Carly couldn’t help but feel a tad sorry for him. Marco would never have expected this kind of rule.
“By else, I’m presuming you mean the marital bed?”
“You want this baby in your life. You’ve got it. But it doesn’t mean I come with it. I’ll live here, we will be a family for all to see, but what goes on behind closed doors at night is no one else’s business.”
“If I remember, nighttime wasn’t the only time you came to me.”
A flush of heat scorched Carly from head to foot.
Toughen up, Carly.
“Memories play funny tricks sometimes,” she countered.
“Not mine—or yours.” His voice was whisper-soft and teasing, like sensuous silk gliding over her body, arousing her senses to fever pitch.
Could words do that?
Oh, yes, his could.
Carly stifled a gasp at the direction of her wayward thoughts. “Don’t be crass. Nighttime, daytime, whatever.” She snapped her fingers. “There will be no marital bed. There will be separate bedrooms.”
Marco seethed, obviously offended. “All right.”
“You agree?”
“You seem surprised. Did you think I would do a Tarzan act and sweep you off your feet, declaring everlasting love?”
Carly froze. Okay, so she had hoped, a little. “I…”
“Never. I said once before I’m not the marrying kind.”
“So why marry me when you don’t have to?”
He laughed, a brittle sort of l
augh that cut her heart in two. “I’m marrying you for our baby’s sake. This is purely a business deal. No more, no less. You, Carly Mason, know all about business deals. Remember?” With that, he spun around and exited the room, leaving her alone and in no doubt as to where her prospective husband’s affiliations lay.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. Yet.
She may have just agreed to marrying Marco Valente, the man she loved, the one she’d dreamed of nightly for the last three months, but she realized she’d never, ever, felt so alone.
“Damn it.” Marco’s curse sliced the air around him as he bolted like a drowning rat into his study.
How appropriate. He’d never felt so desperate in his entire life, desperate for Carly’s agreement and for his child. Desperate from the moment he saw her again in his office, for what he couldn’t say, was scared to say or even acknowledge.
That he’d acted so badly, so high-handedly, frog-marching her to his apartment, hadn’t just taken Carly unawares, but himself.
He didn’t know what to think about anything—except that he couldn’t stand there and do nothing but watch her walk out of his life again.
Desperate times required desperate measures.
Chapter Ten
Sleep came surprisingly easy for Carly, though every time she woke, she was intensely aware that Marco was only a few feet away in the next room.
What was different? He’d been right beside her on the island.
Huddled beneath the cozy feather duvet, she squeezed her eyes closed. Marco hauling her to his apartment hadn’t prepared her for anything. But then how do you prepare for being offered a marriage of convenience?
She’d made her presence felt when she demanded a rule of her own, one on which she wasn’t prepared to stand down.
Carly chuckled. It had been good to see Marco at a loss for words. Something she hadn’t expected, but rather liked and wouldn’t mind seeing again.
And again.
That tiny feeling of success had boosted her confidence, something she needed plenty of at this moment.
She slid her legs off the side of the bed, scouted around the bedroom and found a toweling robe hanging on the back of the ensuite door. Suitably covered, though wishing she had her own nightwear, she decided to enter the lion’s den.
The smell of coffee hit her the moment she stepped through the door. She gagged and slammed a hand over her mouth, battling to hold onto whatever was in her stomach.
“You okay?” Marco’s concerned tone reached through the miasma of what was left of her brain as she concentrated on overcoming the nausea.
She nodded, breathing slowly—slowly—until she was able to remove her hand. “Can you get rid of the coffee?” she asked, spying the mug Marco held.
Another wave hit her. “Please,” she added.
Seeing her distress, Marco retreated to the kitchen and poured the coffee down the sink.
He turned to her. “Better?”
Was she? She gave him a tight nod.
“Did you sleep well?”
“What? You mean you actually care?”
“Of course I care.”
“For the baby,” Carly accused waspishly.
Marco’s lips thinned and the muscle in his cheek throbbed visibly. Carly knew she was being bitchy, but hell, he was the one who forced her here.
And she had agreed.
A flush of contrition washed over her. “I’m sorry, I…it’s just strange, that’s all.”
No, that wasn’t all. That was a lie. It was everything. Marco. The baby. Fear of the unknown.
Battling the increasing swell of panic in her belly, Carly walked to the large window and stared into the distance. Another day. Another life. Her life. So many changes in only a short time. It was hard, scary, and damn it, she felt cornered and she didn’t like it one little bit. She was used to being the designer of her life. If this was going to work, she needed to salvage a sense of control, somehow.
She turned to face Marco. “If you want me to stay here,” she began, “I want a few concessions.”
“Such as?”
“My own things around me. You have an exquisite home, but it’s yours,” she said, glancing around the room, though really not seeing any of it. “This will now be my home, and I don’t intend to simply be the little wife on your arm.”
“You’re the mother of my child.”
“Yes, I am, but I’m also Carly Mason. Myself. So…” she said, finding her confidence once more. “This is what I want.” Without any further preamble, she, soon to be wife and mother, but still herself, began to tell her fiancé exactly what she wanted. She had managed only a few sentences when there was a sharp knock on the door then it opened. Her hand stilled, cup of tea halfway to her mouth.
A diminutive powerhouse charged through the entrance. “Oh, I do so love a wedding.”
Marco’s eyes rolled skyward as the woman walked past and completely ignored him. “Mother, how nice to see you.”
“Mother?” Carly mouthed.
He nodded.
“Yes, dear, I’m sure it is, but you could have at least warned me.”
“It’s rather sudden.” Marco closed the door and followed his mother.
“I’m Daphne, dear. Lovely to meet you. Where has Marco been hiding you?” She turned to her son and wagged a finger at him. “Naughty boy. Mind you, I’m absolutely delighted. As I said, I so love a wedding.”
Carly smiled shyly. In the silver-haired woman, she recognized Marco’s blue eyes and forceful personality.
“We have so much to do.”
“Mother,” Marco warned for a second time.
“Now don’t Mother me. I’m an expert in this field.”
“Huh! I should know,” he muttered, and Carly noted the downturn in his mouth, clear evidence he wasn’t particularly pleased with his mother’s interference.
“Nice to see someone can get the better of you, Marco. I rather like it.”
He gave her a withering look.
“A lot,” she added, chuckling.
“With three husbands, one does gain a certain experience in these things,” Daphne declared.
“Three,” Carly exclaimed.
Marco’s gaze hit the sky again, making Carly smile. This really was rather enjoyable.
“Yes, three. Though you never know, Ted is looking rather besotted these days.”
Marco let out a groan, but it had no effect on his mother. Daphne grabbed her son’s arm. “Off you go. Carly and I have some planning to do.”
“Mother, this is a small wedding. No one is invited.”
“They aren’t?”
“What Marco means is we haven’t even discussed it.”
In truth, Carly wasn’t really interested. Their marriage wasn’t real, anyway.
“Ridiculous. It’s a wedding. It needs to be celebrated. Go!” Daphne may have been pint-sized, but within minutes she had Marco directed toward the door, opened it and gave him a slight shove which sent Carly into fits of giggles as she saw his astonished expression. Daphne closed the door in his face.
“Poor, helpless boy.” Carly chuckled.
“Pah. The boy doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
Carly choked back another fit of giggles. No one could win against Daphne. She was a formidable force all on her own.
The older woman led Carly toward the sofa, patting the seat. “Now, you and I need to get to know each other,” she said. “I rather think this is going to be fun.”
Fun?
A wedding she didn’t want. It sounded more like a living nightmare. But what Carly found interesting was the definite undercurrent between mother and son. Marco may not like the fact that his mother seemed intent on giving Liz Taylor a run for her money in the husband stakes, but his love for her shone in his eyes.
It was this simple thought, that Marco could love, that cheered Carly on as she sat and listened in awe of Mrs. Valente-Miller-Chambers and maybe soon
, Taylor.
Carly guessed her to be in her early sixties and, despite the fact that she’d found herself a batch of husbands, Marco was her only child.
“Trust me, my dear. I’m an expert.”
“I’m sure.”
Still, she didn’t want a fancy wedding. Why bother? It wasn’t a celebration. It wasn’t as if he loved her.
Sudden tears stung her eyes. Stupid. Stupid. Why think such a thing? So what if he didn’t love her. They would be a family.
Yeah, but she loved him. And they were marrying in two days’ time.
The thought scared her to death. But for her baby’s sake, she would do it.
In a whirlwind, Daphne organized everything, leaving Carly to simply traipse after her. Fittings, flowers, hair, jewelry. Nothing was too much of an undertaking for her future mother-in-law.
But what Carly really wanted was to go to work. However, with Daphne in charge, she had to temper her urge to phone Tansy constantly.
“You don’t have to check on me every hour,” Tansy advised when she phoned her assistant for the sixth time that day. “It’s all going fine. You rest. You’ve a wedding tomorrow.”
Tomorrow sounded so far away, yet would come all too soon. Her gut churned continuously, though, thankfully, she hadn’t seen Marco since yesterday. After being hounded out the door by his mother, he’d come home late and gone early this morning. Everything, according to Daphne, who had retreated a short while ago, giving Carly some blessed respite, was on schedule.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Carly frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She punched the security speaker.
“Who is it?”
“Rosaria Santos. I have a wedding gift.”
Presents?
It was real. A wedding. Marriage to Marco.
Carly buzzed the door release and waited.
A knock sounded on the apartment’s front door a few minutes later, and she opened it. A statuesque woman with lustrously dark hair hanging down her back stood on the doorstep. She didn’t wait to be invited in, but strode past Carly and into the apartment.
The woman’s audacity caught Carly unawares for a few seconds, till she recovered her composure. “Marco’s not here at the moment,” she informed the visitor.
Romeo for Hire Page 13