Husband--Or Enemy?

by Caroline Cross

Shane grinned over his shoulder as he started for the front of the house. “You should talk. Give my regards to your TV dinner.”

  A moment later Riley heard the front door open and shut.

  Shaking his head, he took another sip of his beer and gazed out through the sliding glass door at the bright blend of pink, scarlet and white flowers in the huge terracotta pots clustered around his sweeping terrace. Off in the distance, a hawk soared against the brilliant blue bowl of the sky, gliding and swooping as it rode the thermal drafts rising off the desert.

  Riley sighed. He’d been waiting, hoping Angelica would give him some sign she was coming around, but as usual, Shane was right. It was time to quit sitting on his hands and take action.

  And this time would be different from the last.

  Because this time, no matter what it took, he meant to convince her to be his wife.

  The knock on the door brought Angelica’s head up.

  Seated cross-legged on the worn rug in her living room, she pushed a strand of hair off her hot, flushed cheek and surveyed the untidy stacks of Mike’s things spread out before her. So far there was a pocketknife, a packet of photographs, a handful of wrenches and screwdrivers, a sheaf of old bills and what had to be five years of bank statements.

  One down, ten to go, she thought with a tired glance at the cardboard boxes still stacked in the corner of the apartment’s minuscule dining area. In the weeks after Mike’s death, she’d had no choice but to dispose of his more substantial belongings—his clothes and stereo, his car, the guitar she’d bought him for his seventeenth birthday. Everything else she’d boxed up and set aside with every intention of going through it later.

  But she hadn’t. And though she wanted to believe the reason she’d put it off stemmed from a fear that once it was done she’d lose her last link with her brother, deep down she suspected she also feared what she might find.

  Because try as she might, she couldn’t forget her final conversation with Mike, and the alarm she’d felt when he’d claimed his ship was about to come in. In the months since, she must’ve gone over that conversation a hundred times, trying to convince herself that he’d just been spouting off, making a meaningless boast brought on by too much alcohol.

  But still, she wondered. Had he been involved in something shady? Could it have something to do with his death? And—knowing her little brother’s tendency to always hedge his bets—was it possible he’d left behind some kind of evidence detailing what he was involved in? Something the police might have missed, since they’d initially believed his death to be an accident?

  Angelica sighed. Whatever the truth, she supposed she was going to find out, since her decision to leave town meant she couldn’t put off going through his things any longer.

  There was another sharp rap on the door.

  “Hold on! I’m coming!” She climbed to her feet, praying it was the super, here to finally fix the air conditioner. The unit had been on the fritz for two days, the same length of time as the current unseasonable heat wave. Today’s high had to be near ninety, and her small portable fan wasn’t doing a thing to alleviate the heat that had collected in her apartment.

  Dusting her hands on her ragged cutoffs, she tugged down her faded blue T-shirt and yanked the door open. “Thank goodness—” She froze, staring in dismay at the man standing there.

  Riley.

  “Hi.” Despite the heat, he looked as cool as an icy drink, dressed as he was in a sleek ivory V-neck T-shirt, khaki slacks and a pair of brown leather sandals that probably cost more than her monthly rent.

  “What do you want?” To her disgust, his silver spoon elegance made her feel about as appealing as an unwashed sweat sock.

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  He ignored her and strolled forward, leaving her no choice but to give way or have him press up against her.

  With a huff of annoyance, she moved aside, staunchly ignoring the way her stomach tightened as she caught a hint of his cologne—elusive, expensive, tantalizingly familiar—as he passed by. She crossed her arms and turned to face him, pointedly leaving the door open. “I’d like you to leave. Now.”

  Clearly disturbed by her tone, Cosmo, who was sleeping in a patch of sunlight by the window across the room, raised his big, shaggy head. Everybody’s buddy, the dog briefly regarded Riley, apparently decided the man was no threat, flopped down and went back to sleep.

  “We need to talk,” Riley said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I do.” His gaze skimmed over the room, lingered a moment on the small eating bar that separated the kitchen from the living room, then slowly came back to rest on her face.

  And just like that, she found herself remembering the last time they’d been here together. And how, after he’d stripped her down to her bra and panties, Riley had lifted her up onto that same eating bar, wedged himself between her thighs, tipped her head back with a tug to her hair and found her exposed throat with his hot, clever mouth.

  She’d been so aroused she’d felt faint.

  “Look.” Gritting her teeth at the husky note in her voice, she stopped and cleared her throat. “I thought I made myself clear the other night. I don’t want to see you.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “What was a mistake?”

  “It was late, and you must’ve been exhausted after spending all those hours on your feet. I shouldn’t have ambushed you that way.”

  Riley Fortune was apologizing? She stared at him warily.

  “I should’ve waited, chosen a better time and place for us to talk. I upset you, and I’m sorry, but I’ve been trying all week to make up for it.”

  “By doing what? Harassing me at work? Trying to buy me?” The words were out before she could stop herself.

  He sent her a wounded look. “Of course not. I just wanted you to understand that I’m not giving up.”

  Incredibly, Angelica felt a pang of guilt. Part of her was still beyond angry at his apparent belief that he could breeze in and out of her life at his whim. But there was another, no-doubt foolish part, that was just the teensiest bit flattered he’d gone to the trouble to seek her out, to send her all those flowers and that beautiful jewelry.

  Not because she thought she deserved it. But because Riley simply didn’t pursue women.

  He didn’t have to.

  Gosh—and that means what? That you’re willing to overlook his previous vanishing act? Or forget that no matter how gorgeous the package, he’s six feet, two inches of trouble?

  Not likely. “You might want to reconsider,” she said coolly, raising her voice slightly as a door banged in the adjoining apartment, followed by the sound of voices and a television coming on. “Because no matter what you do, I’m not about to be pressured—”

  “Aw, come on.” To her amazement, he had the nerve to sound amused. “Give me a little credit. If I were trying to pressure you, it wouldn’t be with flowers. I could’ve raised hell when you refused to serve me at the Corral, and it’s a good bet they would’ve fired you. Or I could’ve called Burt Henner, who owns this place and offered him a deal on a renovation. God knows, the place needs it. And don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me that you might be more inclined to listen to reason if you didn’t have a job or place to live.”

  She raised her chin, glad all over again that she planned to leave town. “Don’t bet on it.”

  “All right.” With a little shock she saw that in stark contrast to his jocular manner, there wasn’t a speck of amusement in his silver eyes. “So why don’t we cut to the chase? What is it going to take to win you over? Am I going to have to get down on my knees and beg?”

  It was a very tempting image. Or would’ve been, if not for the memory it instantly conjured of him kneeling before her in her bedroom, his hands cradling her waist, his tongue circling her navel…

  The heat was suddenly stifling. Belatedly aware of the early evening sunshine beating down on her from the open doorwa
y, she flicked the door shut, only to instantly regret the impulsive action as she turned back to Riley and the room seemed to shrink. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Is it guilt about Mike? Or are you afraid that somebody like me couldn’t bring up a Fortune properly?”

  “Dammit, Angelica, of course not! I’m trying to do the right thing. For me, for you, for our baby.”

  “That doesn’t mean we have to get married!”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” He raked a hand through his hair as he considered his answer. “Did you know my parents weren’t married until Shane and I were three? They’d been high school sweethearts, but when my mom found out after graduation that she was pregnant, she didn’t tell my dad, not wanting to wreck his college plans. She thought she was doing the right thing, but it doesn’t change the fact that my father missed the first three years of our lives.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with our situation.”

  “Just listen. Last month, my brother discovered history had repeated itself, that he had a son. Lucky for him, he also discovered that he and the boy’s mother still love each other, but he’ll never get those lost years back. I don’t have any intention of making the same mistake. Not if I don’t have to.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she said stubbornly. “The way I grew up—” She swallowed as she felt the familiar shame. “My parents had a miserable marriage.” She could see by his expression that she wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. But then, Jack and Evelyn Dodd had spent most of their time hanging out in local bars, so their numerous infidelities, as well as their alcohol-fueled fights, were public knowledge. “It wasn’t a very happy situation, for anyone. I want something better than that for my child.”

  “And you think being raised by a single mother, branded as illegitimate, cut off from grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, is it?” he demanded incredulously.

  “No! Of course not. But—”

  “And what about me? Am I just supposed to fade away? Pretend I don’t have a son or daughter? Because I’m telling you, sweetheart, it’s not going to happen.”

  Angelica blinked, stunned by the absolute resolve in his voice. Until the past few moments, she’d assumed he was just going through the motions, offering to marry her because it was the sort of thing a Fortune was expected to do.

  But not now. Hearing the determination in his voice—and seeing it in his handsome, compelling face—she knew she’d miscalculated in the worst possible way. She should’ve realized that Riley always did precisely what he wanted. That he wouldn’t have reappeared in her life for anything less than his own personal convictions.

  And that he wasn’t likely to go away just because she wanted him to.

  She bit her lip, struck by the irony of the situation. Three months ago she’d have given anything for his attention. Now she had it, but for all the wrong reasons.

  “Marry me,” he said forcefully. “You’ll have a beautiful house, no money worries, plenty of time to do nothing but care for yourself and the baby. You won’t have to work unless you want to. I won’t insult your intelligence by promising to be the perfect husband, but I swear I’ll do my best to never publicly embarrass you.”

  To her shock, she realized she believed him. And that for the first time she was actually considering his proposal. “What about your family?”

  “They’ll be thrilled I’m finally settling down.”

  Angelica seriously doubted that. It was much more likely that once they learned she was pregnant they’d think she’d trapped him into marriage. Which was nothing compared to what they’d think if it turned out Mike had been involved in something he shouldn’t have been.

  And yet… In all the ways that mattered, she’d been alone for so long. It would be a relief to have the kind of security Riley was offering, to actually belong somewhere for a change. And there was always a chance, however slim, that given some time they might become a real family. Most important of all, he was right about the advantages for their baby. Enough that the case could be made that she had an obligation to at least try to make a union between them work.

  “All right.” Amazingly, she sounded calm despite the painful way her heart was thumping. “I’ll marry you.”

  It seemed to take a moment for her words to register. “You will?”

  “Yes.” She waited, expecting to see a look of triumph.

  It didn’t come. Instead, his enigmatic gaze searched her face, something she couldn’t define transforming his eyes from silver to smoke. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be a good father, Angelica— I swear. As for us—” A brief, sardonic smile lit his face as he gave a slight, dismissive shrug. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, the D.A. will get his way and I won’t be around.”

  Her breath caught at the hint of vulnerability she could have sworn she’d heard in his voice.

  But all she said was, “Maybe I will.”

  Three

  Once upon a time, as a romantic teenager who’d wanted to believe in happily ever afters, Angelica had daydreamed about her wedding day.

  She’d envisioned a hushed church, awash in candlelight and the sweet scent of camellias. She’d pictured herself in an exquisite white dress encrusted with seed pearls and lace, the full skirt billowing around her as she held out her hand and her groom—gentle, handsome, adoring—slipped a burnished gold wedding band on her finger. To seal their vows, he’d cup her face in his hand and they’d exchange a tender kiss that spoke of love, respect and mutual understanding.

  Another adolescent fantasy shot to pieces, she thought as Judge Melvin’s deep, sonorous voice flowed over her. Oh, some of the words were familiar—she and Riley had promised to “love, honor, cherish and protect each other, forsaking all others.” They’d also exchanged rings, the look of surprise on Riley’s face as she’d produced a wedding band for him to wear well worth the hit to her savings account. And he did look handsome, his black hair and sun-kissed skin set off by natural-colored linen pants, a natural-colored silk shirt open at the throat and an exquisitely fitted taupe sport coat.

  But that was where all resemblance to what she’d once imagined ended.

  The judge was currently going on about how two very different threads woven in opposite directions could form a beautiful tapestry or something to that effect.

  Instead of a church, the ceremony was taking place at His Honor’s house. While the interior courtyard room where they were gathered was lovely, with its cool tile floor, bubbling fountain and profusion of potted flowers, no one would ever mistake it for a place of worship.

  Just as no one was likely to confuse her pale yellow suit, borrowed from a girlfriend for her upcoming college graduation, and far from a perfect fit, for a real wedding dress.

  Not that she had anyone to blame but herself. It had been her decision to have a small civil ceremony, no fuss, no muss. And no one but the judge’s modest staff of secretary and housekeeper to act as witnesses, since she didn’t feel anywhere near to ready to face the Fortune family. Particularly when she didn’t have anyone of her own to attend.

  “Are you sure?” Riley had asked when she’d stated her preferences. The two of them had been standing in her living room, the conversation having turned to practical considerations once she’d finally agreed to marry him.

  “Yes. Under the circumstances, I’d prefer to keep things simple. Unless, of course, you’re afraid it will upset your family.”

  “No. This is between us. Whatever you want is fine.” He’d reached out as if to give her shoulder a squeeze and she’d instinctively stepped back, stopping him in his tracks. A flicker of surprise had danced across his face. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I just—” don’t want you to touch me.

  The realization had frozen her in place. Yet it had only taken her an instant to decide her reaction made perfect sense. The last time he’d put his hands on her she’d completely lost her head. A
nd though she wanted to believe her lapse of judgement had been due to her being off-balance because of Mike’s death, she wasn’t one-hundred per cent sure.

  Not when just being in the same room with Riley made her more than a little breathless.

  “Angelica?” His questioning voice had drawn her back.

  “I just…everything’s happening so fast,” she’d hedged. “I guess I need some time to get used to the idea.”

  Silence. And then he’d given one of those negligent little shrugs she was starting to consider his trademark. “Sure. No problem.”

  She glanced down now at the gold and diamond wedding set glittering on the third finger of her left hand. And told herself—the way she had repeatedly the past three days, as she’d hastily packed up her apartment, trying to shake of a sense of unreality when Riley insisted on sending someone to transport her things since he didn’t want her lifting anything heavy—that she could handle this.

  Obviously, she found Riley physically attractive. Just as clearly, she wanted this marriage to work, since it went against her hard-won principles to enter such a union planning for the day when it would prove a bust and she’d take her child and walk away.

  But… She had no intention of letting such hopes get in the way of her common sense. Any more than she intended to sacrifice what was left of her self-respect.

  As Riley had made crystal clear, first when he’d bolted after they made love and then again when he’d proposed, this wasn’t a love match. And that made it essential that she behave with dignity and restraint, making it clear she expected to be treated as an equal partner.

  Even if it wasn’t going to be easy. Not, she thought, sneaking a peek at him, when something as innocent as the sight of his profile—lean, chiseled, the cheek creased with a faint groove that she knew hid a devastating dimple—made her pulse pick up.

  “…and by the power vested in me by the state of Arizona, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge’s announcement grabbed her attention. She shifted her gaze to him, just in time to see him smile indulgently at Riley. “Young man, you may kiss the bride.”