by Louisa Trent
“It wouldn't have to be forever, Sera. Just until we both get what we want. And the marriage could even be annulled, if that's what you wanted. Naturally, we wouldn't sleep together-”
“No! No annulment.”
“Okay. Then a divorce.”
“How will we explain why we're going our separate ways?”
“People split up all the time,” he countered.
“Usually, there's a very good and compelling reason to dissolve a marriage.”
“Times get tough, and people walk. Say I cheated. Everyone in this town will believe that.”
She shook her head. “I could never lie like that.”
“Whose says it would be a lie?”
“You're not a cheat, Tomas. If you make a vow of faithfulness, you'll keep it. And besides, why would I demean you that way to the very people you're trying so hard to impress? Why would I agree to marry you, with the intention of helping you get what you want, only to tear you down? You would never do something like that to me.
“Furthermore, though I believe that there are some people who walk away from marriage when times get tough, I don't believe you ever would. You're a fighter, Tomas, not a quitter. You take your responsibilities seriously. Don't try to convince me otherwise. “
His heart clutched. Why did she have that kind of faith in him, that kind of confidence? Hadn't she heard the gossip? Didn't she know what kind of man he was?
Tomas hung his head, shamed by her groundless trust. Perversely, though, he wanted to be that man she thought he was.
He couldn't bring himself to defend himself, to set her mind at ease, to tell her that he would never cheat on her. Instead, he said, “I figured it was just something believable you could say.”
“You figured wrong.”
How come faith hurt?
Pained by her trust, he rasped, “Listen, Sera. I can't let you live at the mansion by yourself, not until the riverfront is safe. And I can't continue to go on sleeping in my truck down the hill from the house. It's murder on my back.”
“You've been sleeping in your truck?”
“Every night.”
“But why?”
Time for some hard reality. Time for Sera to take off those rose-colored glasses of hers and face some ugly facts. “Did you know that dealers worked out of the Monroe mansion right up to the day that you moved in?”
“Dealers?” she cried, voice horror-tinged. “No! Of course I didn't know! Is that why you wanted me out the house? Were you trying to protect me from drug dealers?”
“It had a little something to do with it, yeah. The dealers are pissed that you disrupted their operation. A widow living alone makes an easy target. The thing to do is make you less vulnerable, and like all bullies, the dealers will quit harassing you.”
“I can't believe someone wants to harm me.”
Okay, this was way too much reality. “Honey, listen to me. It's me the dealers want, not you. I'm the one who owns the mansion. I'm the one who's forcing them out. If you don't want to marry me, I suggest you move out of the house, only for a short time-”
“I'm staying!”
“I figured you'd say that. Then, there's no other way. Until the dealers are caught, you're under twenty-hour surveillance.”
“By the police?”
Tomas laughed. “For years, the cops have turned a blind eye to what's going on in the Southside. Why do you think Anderson sold out to me?”
He answered his own question. “Because every attempt Anderson made to survey the package of land was sabotaged. That won't happen with me. Unlike Anderson, I fight dirty. I grew up on these streets and I know how these little fuckers-excuse my language—think. I'm big and I'm a bad-ass, and there ain't a one of them wants to mess with me directly. I'll have those dope boys pissin’ themselves if they give me or anyone connected with me a hard time. Ain't no cokehead, ain't no junkie, neither, gonna pull no crap while I'm around.
“And I intend to be around. I'm building million dollar estate homes on this parcel of land, whether the dealers like it or not. They wanna tangle, we're on.”
“Tomas, maybe I should leave the mansion. You could get hurt-”
“You don't think I'm a quitter, and I'll return the favor; you ain't no quitter either, Sera Norris. Marry me.”
“Oh Tomas, I don't-”
“It's only a matter of time before the dealers wise up and realize they have to go someplace else, crawl under some other rock. Right now, they’ re not in the mindset; they're pushing back. They can't win, though. They're scum, and they're getting the hell out of this neighborhood, out of the Southside, out of Fenton too. Until that happens, I'm your 24/7 surveillance. And I can't do that unless I move in with you and I can't do that unless we're married. See?”
She bit her lip. “This is all so wrong!”
“This is only a temporary arrangement, just so folks don't get the wrong impression about you. I don't want anyone thinking you're just another one of my good-time women. If we shack up together, if you're viewed as one of my lays, that will defeat the whole purpose of our original agreement.
“Bottom line, I won't have you left wide open for ridicule in this town. And to show my appreciation for helping me out, the mansion will be my wedding gift to you.”
“You'll give me the house?”
“That's what I said.”
“No wedding ring, no deal?”
“Yes,” he said tightly.
“The ring is beautiful.” She held out her work-chapped hand. “Would you put it on my finger, Tomas?”
“I'd be proud to.”
The ring looked good. Damn good. A little too good. Liking the way it looked just a little too much, he was about to beat a hasty retreat out the door when he heard a rumble coming up the driveway.
Sera raced for the door. “Tomas, there's a pickup truck backing into the backyard.”
“We better go see,” he replied.
A bearded man jumped out of the truck and hollered, “Where do you want the flowers, boss?”
“Flowers? Boss? What's going on, Tomas?”
“You'll see.” He pointed to the excavation work he'd done. “Put the flowers over there, Hank. We'll let the lady decide which plant goes where.”
Sera looked at the plants, then turned back to him. “All those flowers are for me?”
“You wanted a garden. You got a garden.”
“But so many plants-”
“I'm wooing you.”
“Woo ... woo, wooing? Like a train?”
“No, sweetheart. Courtship wooing.” He pulled on his hoop earring. “A lady should get a few flowers when she's been proposed to.”
“But there's hundreds, maybe thousands, of flowers out there.”
“I don't woo in a small way, Sera.”
Throwing her hands up in the air, she cried, “I give up. I absolutely give up. You are a rogue, sir, and I cannot take you seriously.”
Tomas said, “I'll just go get that license now,” and got the hell outta there fast.
* * * *
Three days later, they were married before a bored Justice of the Peace.
When the dude said, ‘You may kiss your bride,’ Tomas needed no further persuading. Though he pulled out of the kiss real quick. Not because he wanted to, because he didn't want to, he could have gone on kissing Sera's soft, clinging lips for hours.
Sera's eyes were slumberous; her mouth was giving; her cheeks were flushed. She was the prettiest, nicest, sweetest woman he'd ever kissed and he wanted her, but he also needed to act responsibly toward her. Annulment, not bed, was where his thoughts were at. No wedding night consummation for them.
Too bad his dick had other plans.
He was spike-hard, a fact Sera would catch onto if she rubbed her belly against the bulge in his best black jeans. Which was why he pulled out of the kiss.
His lady-bride looked enchanting, other worldly, in the simple garland of wildflowers she'd woven in her hair. He didn't know
if he could keep his hands off her, he only knew he had to keep his hands off her...
For all Sera's natural loveliness, he would have liked her dressed up like a real bride today. Women went in for that sort of thing. But there'd been no altar. No flowers. No music. Their wedding was a civil ceremony all the way. That was how Sera had wanted things done.
It wasn't how he wanted things done. No how, no way. Maybe because of his ugly and unstable childhood, he liked beauty and tradition, and even a little pomp and circumstance. He would have liked nothing better than for his pretty Sera to walk towards him down the center aisle of a church, the scent of incense in the air. He would have liked a religious ceremony. The church's denomination didn't matter, just so long as the man saying the words was a man of God.
Someone's God. Anyone's God. Sera's God!
Whatever happened to the Big Guy she used to work for, anyway? Wasn't Sera a former missionary?
Instead of the Big Guy's representative, they got some big chump JP checking his watch to make sure he didn't run over his damn coffee break.
Tomas told Sera he planned on keeping this marriage platonic. And that was true, but what was equally true was that he took his vows seriously.
To a man whose former romantic commitments lasted no longer than his attention span, marriage, even a temporary marriage, was a weighty venture. Sticking with someone longer than a one-night stand was hard to do these days-
Or maybe, it had always been hard. Only now-a-days people went on Oprah and bitched about it, he didn't know which.
What he did know was this: Staying with a woman for longer than a night scared the hell outta him. Actually living with a woman made him tremble in fear. Deep down deep, he was afraid he didn't know how to love. At least not the right way, the right kind of love.
Tomas snuck a look at his blushing bride who was talking with Roxanne and Lou, their two witnesses, and his worry went away.
If love could be learned, if permanence could be taught, he'd just married a fine teacher. No two ways about it, Sera knew how to love. And that was as in forever.
Not that a street punk like Tomas Ruiz deserved a lifetime warranty from a woman like Seraphina Norris. How could he, when she was so far above him?
His bride resembled a golden-hair angel, the unreachable kind that decorated the top of Christmas trees.
Other people's Christmas trees, never his.
Oh, yeah, his bride was beautiful. And way out of his reach.
But wedding frills or not, in the right here and now, they were legally married. And it didn't feel half-bad. Truthfully, he was walking up on a big white puffy cloud. He only wished his bride were up there walking with him.
After thanking Rox and Lou, he turned to his bride, “Ready to leave, sweetheart?”
Sera nodded.
He nodded too, both of them at a loss for words.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
What were the chances of any one woman marrying two men, both of who didn't want to sleep with her?
In her case, the chances were one hundred percent.
The more she got to know Tomas Ruiz, the better she liked him, and he was not a man a woman like her should ever, ever like. And loving him would certainly not be heart-healthy.
Taking him to her bed, however, was another thing entirely. That would do her heart a whole heck of a lot of good.
What was this marriage really all about? What was he all about? There had to be more to Tomas Ruiz's proposal, to the marriage, to the man, himself, than appeared on the surface. There just had to be!
From the first day she met him, she'd felt that Tomas had a purpose, a calling. What on earth was it?
It had to be more than his becoming a billionaire before his thirtieth birthday, Sera thought as she walked through the condo site where Tomas had suggested they meet later on that day.
What a confusing place a construction site was! There were hardhats rushing every which way, yelling at other hardhats in what sounded like a foreign language. The noise level was incredible. And the dirt! The site was a dust bowl in some places, a mud hole in others.
Wanting to look nice when Tomas introduced her to Myra, Sera hadn't changed after the wedding. She was still wearing her best outfit: a pastel print dress with a large lace collar and matching white pumps. This past spring, she'd visited the dress twice a week at the discount department store, not purchasing it until the end of season clearance sale.
Her bridal finery was now dirt-splattered.
It was only a dress, she thought, surveying the damage.
Her glance dropped to her hopelessly muddy feet.
And her best pair of shoes.
So much for looking bride-like, Sera conceded, knocking on the door of the construction trailer.
A woman in purple lame answered. “Yeah?”
“Er ... maybe this isn't the right place.”
“We'll never know, will we, if you don't tell me who you're looking for.”
“I'm Seraphina Norris. I mean, Seraphina Ruiz. Tomas is expecting me.”
“Expecting you to do what?”
Sera blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
The woman waved her inside. “Just funning you. Tomas warned me you were the serious type. I heard you sing, you know. Over to the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Aha! You must be Myra,” Sera said, climbing the metal stairs. “I've heard so much about-
The sentence went unfinished. Sera stumbled on the last step and the heel of her shoe caught and broke. “Drat! That's the reason these shoes were in the half-price bin!”
“Quality shows in shoes and men, dearie. Looks like you got better taste in men. Tomas is a real gem. One in a million.” Myra lowered her voice. “Don't tell him I said so. Promise?”
“Oh, I won't,” Sera said, kicking free of her broken pumps, and hobbling inside the trailer.
Myra took in Sera's soiled dress. “The boss didn't tell you to wear your worst clothes, did he? Wait ‘til I get my hands on him!”
She hollered towards the back of the trailer. “Tomas Ruiz, get your inconsiderate butt out here, pronto. Your wife is here to see you.”
Tomas came rushing out from a back room. “Sera! You walked here alone? I told you I'd escort you from the gate.”
“Yeah, and you should've too,” Myra yelled, sending shooting daggers at her new husband. “Look at her!”
Sera didn't know what to do. According to Tomas, Myra and he had a warm and loving relationship. In the space of one minute, she'd wrecked everything. Why hadn't she called him on her cell phone from the gate like he told her to do?
“It's nothing, really. My dress is just a little dusty. It will wash out,” Sera said quickly, trying to patch things up between Tomas and the woman who meant so much to him.
“Sorry, Sera. I should've warned you about the dirt at the site.”
Myra folded her arms over her chest. “Her shoe's broken too.”
“How's the weather today, Myra? Should I apologize for that too?”
“Don't be a smart ass,” Myra grumbled, heading for the trailer door. “Nice meetin’ you, Sera. I'll be leaving you two alone now.”
Tomas gave her a fond wave. “It'll be tough managing without you-”
Ignoring her boss, Myra shuffled out the door.
“My. That certainly went well,” Sera said, barely suppressing a nervous giggle when the door slammed.
“Yeah, it did. Myra liked you, I could tell. She's not normally that pleasant.”
Sera strolled around the trailer's interior. “I liked her too. And your crew seemed like a happy group. Because of the noise, I couldn't understand their calls, but they certainly smiled and gestured at me enough.”
Tomas covered his face with both hands. “Next time, you call at the gate and wait for me to come get you. Hear?”
With a non-committal shrug, Sera went to investigate a grouping of cardboard buildings, made in miniature scale. “What this, Tomas?”
“Nothing,” h
er new husband replied, racing over and drawing a cover over the display.
“But it looks like an architectural model. It can't just be nothing. Tell me about it.”
“Just something I was playing around with.”
He led her away. “Seraphina, you'll need to change out of that dress before I show you the site. I bought you a pair of jeans and a top.”
She bit her lip in excitement. “Jeans?”
“Yep.”
He sauntered down the trailer's abbreviated hall to a built-in wardrobe, returning with two folded garments. He handed both items to her. “Leave your shoes with me and I'll fix the heel.”
Sera kicked off her remaining shoe. “Where would you like me to change?”
He pointed to the rear of the trailer. “Bedroom's down there. It's the room that looks like a closet stuffed with a bed.”
She smiled at his description. In the cramped trailer, Tomas looked positively immense. His wide shoulders spanned the walls, and he had to slouch so that his head wouldn't whack the ceiling.
She turned to go. “I'll just be a sec.”
“Sera?”
“Yes?” She kept walking.
“Leave off the bra.”
A shiver of arousal ran up her spine. “Yes. Of course.”
“No panties or stockings, either. I want you bare underneath your clothes. And Sera-take down your hair.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The black jeans fit too snugly around her rear end.
Naturally.
The jersey was a tank top in a soft white cotton, and was far too large.
Naturally.
She had never worn anything like either before.
As she faced the mirror, Sera saw that her nipples, unusually large considering how lacking she was on top, stuck out. When she turned to the side, most of her small breasts were boldly exposed, except for the elongated pink tips. The tank was so loose that unless she stood up very straight, shoulders back, there was the very real chance she'd fall right out.
Of course, with erect posture the shape and size...and excitement...of her breasts were all too readily apparent under the thin white cotton. Either way, she lost her modesty.