Last Resort: Marriage

by Pamela Stone

  As he took a drag and watched a kid on the beach feeding a flock of seagulls, he caught a glimpse of someone stepping onto the deck. He remained in the shadows and watched old man Harrington stop and take a couple of deep breaths. Edward pressed a hand to his chest, leaned against the rail, and dug something out of his pocket. The man looked pale as he tilted his head back and placed a pill in his mouth.

  Should he ask if Harrington needed help or would that embarrass him? He waited until the older man was breathing easier before stepping out of the shadows. “Nice evening.”

  Harrington straightened and glanced casually over the ocean as if he hadn’t just been clutching his chest. “Why aren’t you inside with your bride?”

  Holding up his cigarette, Aaron shrugged. “Just needed fresh air and a quick smoke.”

  “How do you exist in this humidity?”

  A fine sheen of sweat covered the guy’s ashen face. Taking another drag, Aaron snubbed his cigarette out in a concrete ashtray. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

  “Something cold does sound good.”

  “Thought I’d try the punch.” He stood back and allowed Edward to precede him inside. “Somebody has to drink it.”

  Aaron handed Harrington a glass of pink punch and spotted Charlie standing beside a leafy palm. Before he could make his way across the room, Thurman appeared at her side, removed the glass from her hand, and guided her onto the dance floor. That made twice.

  As Perry slid his arm around her waist, Charlotte noticed Aaron standing beside a table of caviar. She tried to focus on her dance partner and ignore the threatening glower on her husband’s face.

  Aaron Brody was legally her husband. She missed a step at the realization. Was he serious about demanding fidelity? Was he planning to “cleave only unto her”? Right! And the colorful tropical sun would set in the east tomorrow.

  She couldn’t complain about Perry’s dancing, but the hand slithering down her back was another matter. He gently squeezed her hip. “You look wonderful tonight.”

  She grabbed his hand and guided it back to her waist, grinding her heel into his foot. “Don’t start this.”

  He moved his foot back. “I’ve never loved another woman like I love you. I always thought…” Perry’s breath stirred her hair and his tone sounded wistful, but all she felt was disgust.

  Why the sudden interest after six years? Perry didn’t do anything without a self-serving motive.

  Edward tapped Perry’s shoulder and she gratefully moved into her grandfather’s arms.

  Edward scrutinized her face, as if her debauchery was tattooed on her forehead. “Are you happy?”

  Smiling took a concerted effort. “Of course.”

  He patted her back. “You look a bit nervous.”

  “You know me. I worry about everything. As fast as we threw this together, I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

  “Everything you do is done to perfection.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and that made twice today. Her grandparents had taken care of her most of her life. Even before her parents died, she and Don had lived with them. Her mother and father had always been jetting off to a party at some villa or mountain resort.

  He pressed her face against his shoulder. “Promise that if that groom of yours hurts you in any way, you’ll let me know.”

  “Aaron would never hurt me.” If he did, she wouldn’t need Edward’s help. She’d kill him herself.

  “Well, I’ll have to take your word for that. I just hope you know more about him than the size of his…”

  “Edward!”

  He spun her around. “I wasn’t born yesterday, my dear.”

  Charlotte tried to relax and enjoy the reception, but every time she looked up, Aaron was whisking some other woman around the dance floor. He had all the right moves. Probably from all those bars he frequented. When he wasn’t dancing, he was drinking with his buddies.

  She turned and found Perry at the other end of the table watching her watch Aaron. He sidled up to Edward and she shuddered at what he was undoubtedly whispering in the older man’s ear.

  If she and Aaron intended to fool anyone, they needed to appear to enjoy each other’s company.

  She gritted her teeth and pushed through the crowd of men gathered around her husband. “Hi, darling. Come dance with me.” She grinned at the group of laughing, half-drunk males. “Sorry, fellows, but I’m stealing my groom.”

  Aaron’s arm slid around her waist as if it was the most natural position in the world, holding her close as he delivered the punch line of the joke he’d been telling. His hand dropped lower to caress her backside.

  Resisting the urge to yank his hand away, she put her arm around his waist and tugged him away from his rowdy friends.

  She placed her other arm around his neck, leaned close, and waltzed him onto the dance floor. “You aren’t very convincing as the adoring groom.”

  Aaron rubbed his nose against hers and spoke into her mouth. “Then try this. Stay away from Percy or you’ll find out how well I play the role of jealous husband.”

  “You have the nerve to worry about Percy? I mean Perry. You’ve danced with every woman in the room.”

  “If you were dancing with different men, I wouldn’t mind. But how does it look that you’ve danced with Percy three times?”

  He was counting? “And I’ll dance with him again, if I want.”

  Aaron spun her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Go ahead. I’m not too high-class to make a scene. You’re mine, sweetheart. At least for the next few months.”

  Her temper wanted to fight, but her common sense warned her not to argue in front of the guests. “I don’t belong to you or anybody else.” Backing away, she tugged him toward the table where the wedding cake waited. “Shall we cut the cake, darling?”

  The photographer snapped pictures as Aaron placed his hand over hers on the knife and they cut the first slice out of the towering white-and-pink creation. She smelled the alcohol on his breath, but at least he didn’t mush the cake in her face.

  Her relief was short-lived however, when to everyone’s delight, he licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth. Her face heated as the room erupted into applause.

  Then guests toasted them to everything from good luck to advice on how to maintain a long and fruitful marriage. She tried to keep from spitting champagne when the inebriated ship’s captain toasted to a wild and passionate wedding bed.

  Aaron didn’t seem to mind the fellow’s bad taste. He held up his glass and downed the contents. Every time she’d looked at him tonight, he’d been drinking.

  Rosa set her glass down and handed Charlotte the bouquet. “Time to offer us single women a chance.”

  That sounded painless enough. She smiled, took the bridal bouquet, and waited for the women to gather. Rosa stood in the center, flanked by a couple other women who worked at the resort and a stunning Caribbean beauty. Even Zelda, Charlotte’s latest assistant, joined in. Fifteen or more eager women battled for positions.

  “Everybody ready?” she asked before turning her back. “Here goes.” She tossed the bouquet to the chorus of excited squeals. She turned to find the Caribbean beauty clutching the bouquet to her breast like a treasure, but it wasn’t her young escort who caught the girl’s eye. It was Aaron.

  Charlotte frowned, but before she had a chance to dwell on that, one of the men shoved Aaron toward her. “Your turn, my friend. Guys get their shot at the garter.”

  She gulped and shook her head. “I don’t think—”

  Aaron knelt down on one knee and rubbed the back of her ankle, flashing a devilish grin. “Can’t disappoint the gentlemen, now can we, Charlie?”

  His hand scorched through her stockings as he cupped the back of her knee. The other hand placed her foot on his bent leg. She held her breath and stared as he eased her skirt up her thigh and gently stroked upward in a reverent caress until he reached the lacy garter. Her skin burned as his fingers skimm
ed her inner thigh. She sucked air into her lungs.

  Aaron slid the garter slowly down her thigh, over her knee, and along her calf while she watched, mesmerized. He stretched the garter over her shoe and caressed the back of her leg as he softly kissed her knee.

  “Incredible legs,” he whispered, placing her foot back on the floor and glancing up into her face.

  She diverted her eyes, refusing to react. Yet, her traitorous body responded too readily. Her stomach fluttered and she felt flushed and jittery. The imprint of his hands still seared her leg. Damn Aaron Brody!

  Chapter Four

  Was she drunk? Charlotte brushed sticky tendrils of hair off her neck as she and Aaron wound their way to her clapboard bungalow. Her eyes refused to focus. She had consumed more alcohol tonight than during her entire college tenure.

  It was past 2:00 a.m. but that didn’t stop Edward and Perry from chaperoning them to the door.

  She didn’t miss the folded check Edward discreetly pressed into Aaron’s palm as they shook hands. “Just a little wedding present.”

  Aaron unfolded the check and glanced down. His lips tightened and he shoved it back into her grandfather’s hand. “I can’t accept this.”

  “You’re family now. There’s no reason you shouldn’t accept it.”

  Aaron’s jaw muscle ticked. “But—”

  “Good night.” Edward slid the check into Aaron’s jacket pocket and stepped back.

  Perry shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked on his heels. “Well, Brody, I should say congratulations. Charlotte’s made her choice, better man and all that.” The veiled threat in his eyes wasn’t lost on Charlotte.

  “No problem, Percy.” Aaron scooped Charlotte into his arms, opened his mouth over hers, and sucked every ounce of air from her lungs. All she could breathe was Aaron. He broke the kiss and squeezed her bottom. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s our honeymoon.”

  With that, he swung her through the door and kicked it shut behind them, leaving Edward and Perry on the porch. But Aaron was still fondling her derriere.

  She squirmed. “Show’s over. You can put me down.”

  He released her, sliding her body down the length of his and running his hands along her sides. Stopping at her breasts, he growled low in his throat and moved his hands to the front, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.

  A raw ache shot from her breasts to the juncture of her thighs. Embarrassed by her body’s betrayal, she knocked his hands away. “Don’t do that!”

  He chuckled and turned to lock the door. “The flesh is willing, but the spirit’s weak,” he misquoted under his breath.

  There was only enough light in the room to make out his smug smile, but she itched to slap it off his face.

  His hand covered hers as she reached for the light switch. “No lights, sweetheart.”

  This sweetheart thing was wearing thin. “So I should just stand here in the dark and let you fondle me?”

  “They’re going to watch this place like vultures the next few minutes. If we turn on lights they’ll know which room we’re in.”

  His nonromantic, logic-based request chafed. “Well, we should close the shutters then, shouldn’t we?” She turned toward the nearest window and flipped the slats down. The inky darkness engulfed them like an intoxicating cloud.

  She heard Aaron’s erratic breathing behind her as his hands tugged at her loose chignon. The pins pinged as they landed on the hardwood floor.

  He plunged his fingers into her hair and murmured, “I knew it would be long and silky.”

  Fighting for control, she tugged her hair out of his grasp and stepped around him. “I’ll get linens for the sofa.”

  Aaron caught her arm to slow her down and fingered the flowers that miraculously still clung to the tendrils of hair around her face. “You look stunning tonight.” He began a slow seduction of her mouth, angling her head to penetrate deeper and rubbing his rock-hard length against her stomach.

  Her head tilted into his palm, but her eyes remained open, leery, watching him. He tasted of champagne and wedding cake, a heady combination.

  Long-dormant impulses caught fire, but she fought to maintain her decorum as his lips enticed hers to participate in his seductive game. The tip of his tongue tickled the inside of her top lip. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation. Aaron Brody knew how to kiss. Plenty of practice, from all accounts.

  This was nuts. After Perry’s betrayal, she’d promised herself never to allow anyone to use her again. Aaron had married her for one purpose—money. He wasn’t even attracted to her.

  She squeezed her arms between them and pushed, fighting his weight and will. “We agreed. No sex.”

  He grabbed her hand and placed it on his hard shaft, pushing into her palm. “I never agreed to no sex. That was your idea.” He nibbled his way down her neck.

  Charlotte shivered as he pulsed beneath her palm. It had been so long. And if she dared to be honest with herself, she’d thought about Aaron Brody’s toned body quite often over the past three years. But she knew little or nothing about this man. And what she did know, she wasn’t sure she even liked.

  She snatched her hand away. “Aaron.”

  “Shh,” he whispered, planting a trail of feverish, wet kisses across her shoulder. “It’s our wedding night, Charlie.”

  His body was paradise, hard and ready to fulfill the fantasies he’d fueled that first day she’d seen him working on his boat in nothing but those stupid shorts.

  Charlotte took a step back, but Aaron countered with one forward, dragging the back of his rough knuckles across her cheek in a feather-soft caress.

  He took another step forward and she backed away. His palm turned and cradled her cheek as his tongue mated with hers, kissing her deep and hard, warm and wet, promising exquisite ecstasy.

  What was she doing? She must be drunker than he was. It was dangerous to even think these thoughts. Husband or not, she hardly knew him. Yet with a few practiced kisses and gropes, he’d managed to turn her brain to mush. Forcing her legs to move, she took another step back from his sexual heat, but her back hit the wall.

  Aaron leaned in, captured her right breast, and deepened the kiss. In pure panic, she ducked under his arm and wriggled free.

  He groaned, resting his forehead against the wall. “Charlie.”

  The room was too dark to read his expression as he pushed off the wall and turned toward her, but it didn’t take a genius to read his mind.

  “I’m not doing this.” She stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and leaned against its protective barrier.

  She’d take bets that in high school Aaron Brody had been every father’s nightmare.

  Flipping on the light, she reached behind her neck and unclasped her grandmother’s pearls. Staring at her reflection, she wondered how she’d compare to his host of lovers. Too skinny? Too flat? Too brainy? She’d heard it all. Then, in college, when she’d finally trusted Perry and opened her heart to him, he’d betrayed her. He’d had sex with some brainless bimbo and they’d laughed at her.

  But Aaron hadn’t laughed, a small voice whispered. Yeah, but he was too drunk to care, her practical side countered.

  Easing the door open, she followed a trail of clothes and found Aaron lying across the bed flat on his stomach, illuminated by stripes of moonlight filtering through the bedroom shutters. Stunned by his nakedness, all she could do was stare wide-eyed at the exquisite specimen of raw masculinity in her bed.

  Lord have mercy, his body was perfect. His arms raised above his head emphasized the muscled physique of a man who daily earned his living swimming and hauling heavy scuba gear. Muscled back, narrow hips, tight little butt.

  Her breath caught. The events of the past two days were surreal. She hadn’t set out to marry Aaron Brody, it had just sort of happened.

  Burrowing deeper into her thick terry-cloth robe, she forced herself to approach the bed. “Aaron,” she whispered. “What have we done?”
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  No response.

  She touched his shoulder. “Aaron?”

  He didn’t move. His only answer was a soft, rhythmic snore.

  Her groom was sound asleep.

  AARON OPENED ONE EYE and groaned as the light stabbed a knife of pain through his temples. An army of construction workers ran jackhammers inside his head. Closing his eyes, he willed the wrecking crew to take a break.

  He rolled over and squinted, but his stomach churned. This time he caught a glimpse of a tall bedpost, with a canopy frame. He steeled himself for the pain and opened his eyes.

  The walls were white, with a couple of bright photographs of flowers. The furniture looked expensive, too contemporary for his taste, white like the rest of the room. A huge white ceiling fan rotated slowly above the bed.

  Where—He bolted up and grabbed his throbbing head, suddenly remembering. Charlotte Harrington! Correction—Charlotte Brody.

  The past forty-eight hours slapped him in the face, but he could only remember bits and pieces after he and Charlie arrived at the bungalow.

  He was in Charlie’s bed, but where was she?

  Coffee. He needed hot, black coffee. He lifted the sheet and stumbled naked out of the bedroom, in search of the kitchen.

  He stopped when he saw his wife—his wife!—curled up on the sofa. She looked innocent and fragile, sleep-flushed, her lips slightly parted. Nothing like the hard-assed woman the resort employees called the Ice Queen.

  Vague remembrances of last night flashed through his pounding head as he squatted in front of this stranger he’d married. Every time Thurman had danced with Charlie, Aaron had sloshed down another beer. He couldn’t figure out why her dancing with that jackass had bothered him so much.

  He lifted the crocheted afghan and took a long look. Gray knit sleep shorts cupped the curve of her hips, leaving her long legs exposed for his pleasure. The tiny lavender crop top didn’t quite meet the waistband of the shorts. Not exactly a wedding night negligee, but sexy in a Charlie sort of way. Her dark nipples puckered beneath the thin, soft fabric, rising and falling as she slept.