Hazardous Husband

by Christine Scott

  “I wish it were that simple,” she said. A single tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another.

  He drew her toward him, his lips tracing the trail of tears. “It can’t get any simpler. You’re having my baby. And I care more about you than anyone else in the world. If you ask me, those are two damn good reasons to get married,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t promise you forever, Lily. But I’m willing to take a stab at it.” He gave a halfhearted grin. “Hell, I’ll even throw out the prenupt, if you want. I’ll do anything to prove I’m serious.”

  She studied him, her eyes wide and shimmering. “Eric Mitchell, beneath that cynical exterior, you have the soul of a romantic.”

  He frowned. “Does this mean you’re accepting my proposal?”

  “You make it hard to say no,’ she said softly.

  He grew impatient. “Lily, will you marry me?”

  A shiver of desire, mixed with an equal amount of uncertainty, traveled the length of her body. Weeks ago she’d told Eric that if she married again, it would be because she wanted to spend a lifetime loving that person. Lily looked into his eyes—those beautiful brown eyes—and sighed.

  Well, she loved him.

  Before she’d asked him to father her child, she’d loved him as a friend. Now that love had changed. The rush of blind panic she’d felt when she thought he’d been hurt in a car accident had proved that.

  Eric hadn’t mentioned love in his proposal. He’d said he cared about her. Perhaps that was for the best. She was probably grasping at straws, but if Eric didn’t love her...then maybe, just maybe, the curse wouldn’t affect him as it had David.

  The curse. Her muscles tensed. She was tired of the curse and the control it had over her life. In Eric’s arms, she could almost believe nothing would hurt them. He made her want to love again. He made her want to feel loved.

  With more confidence than she felt, Lily said, “Yes, Eric. Heaven help us, I’ll marry you.”

  * * *

  He stared at her for a long moment without speaking, feeling as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

  “It’ s about time,” he muttered. He pulled her against him, claiming her lips in an impatient kiss. Lily wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his.

  His body reacted with a quickness that startled him. With a growl of primitive desire, Eric deepened the demands on her mouth. He tilted her head back and parted her lips with the brush of his tongue.

  She returned his kiss with a feverish urgency.

  New flames of desire exploded throughout his body, threatening to consume him. He tore his lips away and struggled for control. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to be as close to her as any man could possibly be to a woman. But something was holding him back. Something was telling him that now wasn’t the time.

  So much about their relationship had been unconventional. Unconventional? Hell, they’d made a baby together even before he’d kissed her. Now, more than ever, was the moment to follow the rules of con-vention. The first time he made love to Lily, he wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to wait until their wedding night.

  “Lily,” Eric murmured, groaning as she planted kisses across his cheek, his chin.

  “Hmm?” she asked, tickling his ear with her breath. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt.

  A new wave of heat flushed his skin. His mind might be telling him to slow down, but his body wanted to go sixty-five in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone. One more test of his willpower and he was going to fail miserably.

  He caught her hands, holding them still. “Lily, we have to talk.”

  Lily glanced up at him. With her green eyes sparkling like emeralds, a bloom of healthy color on her cheeks, her lips pink and slightly swollen from his kisses, she looked beautiful and very desirable. Eric felt his body respond.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said, his voice a tortured whisper.

  She smiled. “I want to make love to you, too.”

  “But not right now.”

  The smile faded. “I don’t understand—”

  “Let me explain,” he said in a rush, before his courage ran out. “For the past couple of months, we’ve been doing everything backward. First you got pregnant. Then I proposed marriage.” He sighed. “It was only after you turned me down that we kissed. Now that you’ve finally accepted my proposal, I’d like nothing more than to make love to you.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Call it old-fashioned, but I think we should wait until our wedding night.”

  The smile returned. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for tradition, Eric?”

  “No, I don’t. Up to this point, everything about our relationship has been nontraditional. That’s why I think the first time we make love should be different.”

  She considered this for a moment, then asked, “Are you sure this isn’t your way of making sure I go through with the wedding?”

  “Maybe it is. But just remember, I have to wait, too. I’ll be suffering right along with you.”

  “You never cease to amaze me, Eric.”

  “I never cease to amaze myself,” he said with a grimace.

  Lily sighed. “Okay, counselor, you win. We’ll wait.”

  He kissed her. A gentle kiss rich with the promise of love. When they broke apart, Lily placed her head against his chest. He cradled her in his arms, relishing the closeness of the moment.

  “So, how does Saturday sound to you?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “Sounds wonderful. I’ve got orders for three weddings and a bridal shower.”

  He growled his impatience. “I’m not talking about work—I’m talking about a date for our wedding.”

  “Our wedding?” An incredulous look glittered in her eyes.

  “What? Too long of a wait? Then how about today?”

  She was stunned. “Eric, we can’t get married today.”

  “Why not? There’s no waiting period in Arizona,” he reminded her. “I know a judge who’d be willing to marry us this afternoon. All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll give him a call.”

  Her lips curved into a smile, sending his heart racing.

  “This judge, is he a friend of yours?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Eric grinned, recalling the angry-faced judge. On numerous occasions, they’d butted heads in the courtroom. He remembered vividly the trial when the judge had lost his patience and pointed an accusing finger at him, telling him he couldn’t wait for the day when Eric married. The judge bellowed he would like nothing more than to see Eric sweating it out on the other side of the divorce table. Eric decided this was not a memory he would care to share with Lily.

  Lily sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Even Saturday would be too soon.”

  Eric didn’t like her answer. “I’m not a strong man, Lily. I don’t think I can wait much longer. Why can’t we get married on Saturday?”

  “Lots of reasons.”

  He persisted. “Name one.”

  “It’s only four days away. It takes time to plan a wedding. Weeks, months.”

  Eric reached out and patted her tummy. “If you recall, our time is limited. We don’t have months.”

  She brushed his hand away. “We can’t plan a wedding until we’ve figured out a way to break the news to our families.”

  “Break the news? You make it sound as though it were bad news,” he said. “My mother’s been praying for this day.”

  “Oh?” Lily arched a brow. “What is she going to say when she finds out she’s going to have a daughter-in-law and a grandchild all at the same time?”

  “That she’s double blessed. A grandson to carry on the Mitchell name is second on her list of prayers.”

  “Granddaughter,” she corrected him with a teasing smile on her lips. As quickly as it had formed, her smile faded. “My mother will think I’ve gone stark raving mad.”

  He chu
ckled. “Surely it won’t be that bad.”

  “You don’t know my mother. She’ll be offering us her congratulations and her condolences in a single breath.”

  How could he have forgotten about Lily’s quaint, but kooky, family? The one who believed they were black widows? “My mother, the queen of eternal optimism. Your mother, Lucretia Borgia reincarnated. We’ve got to get these ladies together.”

  Eric felt an icy chill as Lily stepped out of the circle of his arms. She glared at him. “That’s an awful idea.”

  Her abandonment put him in a contrary mood. “Why? Because you’re having second thoughts?”

  “Second, third and then some.”

  He set his jaw in a stubborn line. “You have to marry me, Lily. You don’t have a choice.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll sue you for breach of promise.”

  She placed both hands on her hips in a defiant gesture, but she eyed him warily. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  She was right. He wouldn’t. But he’d fought too hard to get her to accept his proposal. He wasn’t going to let her change her mind now.

  “Look, Lily. Why don’t we wait until after the wedding to tell our families? My mother lives in Tucson. Yours lives in Sedona. We’ll get married on Saturday, then take a honeymoon trip touring Arizona, breaking the news to our respective families. They can’t be too upset once the deed’s already been done.”

  “I don’t know, Eric.”

  He caught the slight hesitancy in her voice and moved in for the kill, assuming his most persuasive tone. “Come on, Lily. What do you say? It’ll be fun.”

  “‘Fun’ isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe it.”

  “But you’ll do it?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it.”

  He released a slow breath of relief.

  “I’m wise to you, Eric.” She wagged a finger at him as though he were a naughty boy. “Don’t think you can always sweet-talk me into doing things your way.”

  Eric shot her a devilish look. “So, you plan to resist each and every one of my whims?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Too bad.” He took a step toward her. “Because it’s too late to go to work.”

  “Much too late,” she agreed, sounding slightly out of breath.

  “I was going to suggest we play hooky for the rest of the afternoon...to discuss our wedding plans. But I wouldn’t want to be accused of bullying you into something you don’t want to do.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, taking her lips in a gentle kiss.

  The kiss deepened. Their bodies melded. He relished the feel of Lily’s soft curves pressed against his hardness. The desire to be one with her, body and soul, overwhelmed him. Then he remembered his promise to wait for their wedding night.

  Gathering his waning strength, Eric broke the kiss. He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the scent of wildflowers. “On second thought, going to work may be the best choice after all. Staying here with you may be tempting fate.”

  Lily chuckled, a deep throaty sound. He felt the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest as she breathed a contented sigh.

  He understood her contentment. The tension that had held them these past two months had eased. They were going to marry. Never before had he felt such a sense of fulfillment. He made a mental picture of this moment, framing it in his mind so that he’d never forget.

  For the first time in his life, he finally understood why his clients made fools of themselves in the name of love, hoping against hope that the magic would last forever.

  Lily was the kind of woman he could make a fool of himself over. She could almost make him believe in the fairy tale. She’d already made him wonder if there was such a thing as happily ever after.

  Chapter Ten

  “Mr. Fontaine, for the record, please state your full name and occupation.”

  Peter Fontaine, a thin, dark-haired man in his early forties, scowled at Eric from across the conference table. “You already know it.”

  “Yes. This is merely a formality,” Eric explained, careful to hide his impatience. Rule number one in the practice of law—never allow the opposition to see you agitated. Anger and hostility only gave them fuel with which to fight.

  But scratch the surface of his cool demeanor and you’d find a man who couldn’t wait for this deposition to end. Fontaine v. Fontaine was his last case to wrap up before he married Lily. Tomorrow was his wedding day. Eric glanced at the angry man across the table. This was a hell of a way to welcome in his own attempt at marriage.

  Fontaine released a harsh breath. “Peter Fontaine, illusionist.”

  Illusionist—a fancy term for a high-priced magician. Eric had caught Fontaine’s show in Las Vegas last year. Aided by the glitz of pyrotechnical stunts, his act wasn’t half bad. With his soon-to-be-ex-wife acting as his manager, Fontaine had built quite a reputation for himself in the nightclub circuit.

  “Fontaine is your show name. For our records we need your legal birth name.”

  Fontaine removed a gold coin from the inside breast pocket of his baggy suit jacket. One-handed, he transferred the coin to the back of his hand and walked it from one knuckle to another. Eric had a feeling the trick, appearing merely to be a nervous habit, had a specific purpose. That is, to draw attention away from what was really happening in the deposition. Eric’s gaze rested on the man’s long, tapering fingers; he half expected the coin to disappear before his eyes.

  “Mr. Fontaine,” Eric said again. “Your birth name.”

  “Herbie Coggins,” Fontaine said, his face puckered with distaste. “But I prefer my stage name, Fontaine.”

  Thin narrow face, long nose, beady eyes, he reminded Eric of a weasel. Eric carefully suppressed his feelings, not allowing the man to see his dislike. “Mr. Fontaine, I have your sworn statement revealing all your assets, liabilities and income. Do you acknowledge this statement as being a true representation of your net worth?”

  The coin disappeared. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Mr. Fontaine, do you know a Mrs.—” Eric shuffled through a stack of papers. He knew the name. The search was a tension builder, an effect. He bit back a smile. Fontaine wasn’t the only illusionist in the room. He picked up a sheet of paper. “A Mrs. Alice Thompson?”

  Fontaine shrugged. “The name sounds familiar.”

  “Mrs. Thompson is very familiar with you, Mr. Fontaine.”

  Fontaine shifted in his chair.

  In her seat next to Eric, Mrs. Fontaine muttered, “You slimy, son of a—”

  Eric continued, “Or more correctly, Mrs. Thompson knows you as Herbie Coggins.”

  Fontaine shrugged again. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Mrs. Thompson is a real-estate agent?”

  “Yeah.”

  Eric picked up the stack of papers. “Mrs. Thompson has provided us with documents representing real estate transactions that she has handled for you during your marriage to my client. Real estate transactions that you’ve failed to mention in your sworn statement.”

  Fontaine gave him a cold stare. His lawyer picked up the documents and riffled through them.

  Eric sat back in his chair and watched as Fontaine and his lawyer conducted a heated debate in hushed whispers. After months of negotiating with this greedy con man and with the help of the firm’s private detective, they’d struck pay dirt. Fontaine had been caught red-handed in a lie. Eric allowed himself a moment of triumph. His client could finally expect a fair settlement.

  Eric’s thoughts drifted to Lily. He swore to himself their marriage would never end like this—facing each other across the divorce table. Lying, cheating, bickering. Eric’s chest tightened. He would never hurt Lily that way. And he couldn’t imagine Lily intentionally hurting him. Their marriage would be different. Theirs would be the one in three that lasted.

  Theirs would be the one in three that lasted.

  The force of
those words struck him, taking his breath away. Their significance filled him with wonder. Two months ago he wouldn’t have considered marriage as a possibility, let alone looked forward to it with such anticipation and optimism. Eric almost smiled. A lot of changes had occurred in two months’ time.

  Looking harried, Fontaine’s lawyer said, “In light of this new evidence, I’d like to call a recess in the deposition. Mr. Fontaine and I need time to discuss how to proceed.”

  Fontaine stood, pointing a finger at Eric. “I don’t care what new evidence you have—you aren’t squeezing me for more of my money.”

  Mrs. Fontaine jumped to her feet. “Your money? If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have any money. I’m the one who hustled to get you those nightclub dates. I’m the one who kept you sober so you wouldn’t blow your reputation. If it wasn’t for me, Herbie, you’d still be doing card tricks at birthday parties.”

  Fontaine’s face flushed red with anger. He swung his gaze to Eric. “You really think you’ve got your hooks in me, don’t you? You think I’ll agree to anything you want.”

  Eric rose to his feet. “Mr. Fontaine, I suggest you calm down.”

  “Always the perfect answer, Mr. Attorney. You’re ripping my life apart. Can’t you show any emotion? Not even a hint of self-satisfaction for a job well done?” His beady eyes bulged in their sockets. “What are you, made of ice?”

  Eric took a deep breath. “Mr. Fontaine—”

  In a flicker of movement, Fontaine reached into his suit jacket, withdrew a small black pistol and pointed it directly at Eric’s zipper. Eric’s heart lurched, then thudded against his chest.

  Fontaine snickered. “Don’t look so cool now, do you, Mr. Attorney?”

  “Herbie—you idiot—put that gun away,” Mrs. Fontaine ordered.

  “Mrs. Fontaine, let me handle this. I don’t think it’s a good idea to provoke him,” Eric muttered.

  “Yeah. Let your attorney handle it, Myra.” He waved the gun. “Let’s see what Mr. Cool has to say for himself. You’ve got to the count of five to give me a good reason not to shoot you, Mr. Attorney. One...”