"It crossed my mind that you look rather young to be the president of CB&T. I mean, maybe one of the regional presidents, but the president? I'd pictured you … older."
He glanced up. "Do you know how old I am, Marly?"
She shook her head.
"Thirty-eight, and I'm not getting any younger."
Thirty-eight. Eight years older than she was. Ten years younger than her father, the last time she'd seen him, right after the grand jury had announced their verdict. "I can imagine what you had to do to get … where you are." She swallowed, remembering the last time she'd seen her father, right after the grand jury had announced their verdict, noting similarities between the two men. Had her father been like Carter once upon a time, a hardworking businessman with a drive to succeed? When had he crossed over the line between honorable ambition and self-serving greed? "You must have wanted something very badly to sacrifice so much," she whispered.
"I did, and I don't regret it. But now I want a family." His hazel eyes bored right into hers. "When I'm gone, I want to know that there's a part of me left in the world. Maybe it's a male thing, but I want my lineage to continue."
"No, that's certainly not just a male thing, but—"
"I'm a wealthy man, Marly," he interjected before she could list the available alternatives again. "I'll be a good provider. I swear it."
"I don't doubt that. It's not that at all."
"Then just say you'll think about it."
"Carter." Marly drew in a sharp breath, then exhaled on a sigh. "What can I say to make you understand? I don't believe people should get married just for the sake of getting married."
"Have I said that even once? I told you I want a family."
"But don't you see? It's the same thing." His vacant stare told her he still didn't understand. "I believe that two people should get married because … well, because they love each other." There, she'd said it.
"Did your parents love each other?"
Marly went still, blinking back images she didn't want to see, trying not to give in to the icy tentacles of lonely childhood memories that wrapped around her heart whenever she gave them thought. Choking. Suffocating. "I don't see what that has to do with—"
"Marrying for love is a modern myth."
She drew in a shaky breath. "Excuse me?"
"It's a myth. I tried it. It doesn't work."
"You were married before?"
"Yeah." Carter ran his hand through hair. "A long time ago."
"And you were in love?"
"I thought I was. Anyway, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I was wrong, that I strayed from the plan and got married for all the wrong reasons, and I'm not going to do it again."
"You don't think love is a good enough reason?"
"No, and people marry all the time for reasons other than love."
She looked away, her mind wandering to images of the women at the Shorewood Country Club, some young and pretty, others older, their beauty artificially enhanced or fabricated. A good number of them had married for reasons other than love. Mainly money, there was no second-guessing it, and her own mother was no exception.
There must have been any number of women who would marry Carter for his bank account alone. Add in his good looks and charming personality, and she could just imagine the ensuing catfights over him. He would be perfect for someone, someone other than her, even if things were different, even if she didn't have to play the hand fate had dealt her, Marly never could have married anyone like Carter, anyone with the potential to end up like her father.
"Surely there are other women you've dated, women you've known for some time who are—" She wanted to say more attractive, more charming, more sophisticated. She settled on, "More compatible."
"No." He shook his head. "You are the most compatible woman for me, Marly Alcott."
"But you don't even know me," she cried. No one knew her—not anymore. That's how it had to be. That was the only way she'd survived. A fresh, new start in a place where no one could connect her with the ugly past. If anyone ever found out, if the wrong people discovered she was still alive, her next breath would be her last. They would hunt her down again, just as they had the last time. Only this time, they'd make certain they killed the right person.
"I know you better than you think," Carter said.
"How?"
"I've been following your work for the past year. I did a background check on you—"
"You what?" Marly felt the blood draining from her face.
"I'll admit it may sound a bit extreme, but under the circumstances—"
"Circumstances? There are no circumstances. How could you, Carter? Why would you snoop into my past?" She pivoted on her heel and marched toward the porch steps, anger overriding fear when a little voice told her that if Carter had known the truth—the real truth—he surely wouldn't have been standing on her front lawn, trying to convince her to marry him. "Did you check my OB-Gyn records to make sure I'm fertile?"
"That doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters. Surely you know where babies come from, Carter."
"There are options … if it doesn't work. If we have trouble—"
"The answer is no," she bit out, trying in vain to dispel the images he'd conjured, visions of them together, trying to make a baby. "I'm sorry, but that's final. I'm not going to change my mind no matter what you say."
"How about the contribution being contingent on your marrying me?" he asked, his voice suddenly cool, calculated. A skilled businessman playing his trump card in costly negotiations.
With one foot on the first step and another dangling precariously in the air, Marly froze, her hand in a death grip on the railing. Her foot landed on the next step with a thud that sounded about as hollow as she felt inside. She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't heard Carter's words, knowing she had.
"Oh, God," she whispered, dropping her forehead onto the knuckles of a tightly drawn fist. When she glanced up, the expression in Carter's eyes confirmed her fears. "You aren't going to give me the money unless I agree to marry you."
"Think of it as a barter."
His gaze held hers, and she stared back, dumbfounded. How could she have been so dense? Even if she hadn't known up front, she should have guessed it by now. How could she have thought his six-figure contribution was being donated out of the generosity of his heart, no strings attached? Of course there was a catch. When hadn't there been a catch when something appeared too good to be true? God, her entire life had been one big catch.
Was this her punishment for lusting after him?
On knees that suddenly felt like dough, Marly sank onto the bottom step, clutching her purse to her now-queasy stomach as she swayed, then steadied herself. She tried to keep her voice controlled. She didn't want to give away her fear, didn't want to appear weak or vulnerable when she said, "Don't give me an ultimatum."
Carter approached slowly, a deep crease between his brows. "It's not an ultimatum. I don't want you to think of it like that."
Her anger deepened as she forced herself to meet his dark gaze. "Then tell me how else I'm supposed to think of it."
"Like a contract. I want an heir. You want money for the center. I can give you what you want."
"How do you know what I want?"
"You want to keep your day care center. You want to make a difference in the lives of the children and their parents. You want—"
She cut him off with an emphatic wave of her hand. "I don't even know you."
"That's not true. You know my name. You know what I look like. You can pick me out in a crowd, just as easily as you can avoid me. You know where I work. You know—"
"I know you're nuts. That's what I know." Marly shook her head, trying and failing to block out what he was saying. She stifled a cry, lifting her hand in a gesture of pleading. "Carter…"
The muscle in his jaw worked for several seconds before he spoke, his voice sounding hoarse when it came out. "I promise you I'll be a good,
honest husband."
She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, I just can't…"
"I'll never cheat on you or be physically or mentally abusive."
"But I—"
"I'll try to support you in every way I can, and I'll see that you're provided for to the best of my ability. Here." He reached inside his breast pocket and withdrew a crisp white business card and a pen. He flipped it over and scribbled something on the back, then held it out to her.
"What is it?"
"My phone number."
"I don't want it."
"It's my private line. You can reach me there day or night. Leave a message if no one answers. Take it, Marly." He stuffed it into the outside pocket of her purse. "You might want it after you've had some time to consider my offer … and your center's finances."
"Carter." She gasped. "Can't we work something out? Something else? I know," she offered, grasping onto the first wild idea that popped into her head. "I can help you find a wife. A suitable wife. I know a lot of people, and—"
"No."
"But, why?"
"Because I want you. I think you'll be a good mother, the perfect mother for a child of mine."
"Nobody's perfect. You can't really expect—"
"You'll be as good as it gets."
"How do you know?"
"I told you before I've been following your work for some time now. You have quite a talent with economically disadvantaged children. I … can appreciate that. Just think about my offer. That's all I ask. I can help you, if you'll help me."
Dropping her hand into her lap, Marly bit her lip. An ultimatum. She didn't care what Carter chose to call it; that's what it was. Unless she married the man standing before her, she wouldn't get the money she needed to save the center.
How could he do it to her? How could he? Didn't he know why she could never marry, not just him, but anyone?
No, he didn't. And she couldn't tell him. Nor could she risk his finding out.
Her anger blazed, took on a life of its own. "Damn you, Carter King," she cried, shooting up from the step and running blindly into the darkness of the night.
* * *
Marly hunkered down on her knees in the weed-overgrown garden, swiping angry tears with the back of a dirt-caked hand. Even though she'd heard Carter's car pull away long ago, she still wasn't up to going inside. Annie Lou would hear her crying again and come ask if she wanted to talk about it. She didn't.
So she'd made her way to the garden and was taking out her fury on the weeds, yanking at them with a vengeance, pretending they were the little hairs on Carter's big toe.
The autumn night air felt moist as a damp cloth, but she didn't care. She worked fast and furiously once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, making her way along the garden's edge. All the while, she racked her brain to come up with possible reasons why handsome, charming Carter King would want to marry mousy, penniless Marly Alcott.
In the past, men like Carter had never beaten on her door without a reason, and their reasons seldom had anything to do with what she was and everything to do with who she was.
She remembered when Preston Britner III, one of the most popular boys in high school, had asked her out. The class wallflower, she'd marked the date on her calendar with a firecracker motif, using every colored marker in her possession. Only later had she discovered Preston hadn't really wanted to date her. He'd wanted to secure a summer internship with her father.
He was the first, but definitely not the last, in a long line of men who'd never looked beyond the surface, never even wondered what lay beneath. And Carter King was no different.
So she was no longer the daughter of one of the richest men in New England, no longer the kind of woman who turned men's heads. But what she now had, Marly realized, was not only a new name and a new face, but a new label, as well. Good Samaritan Extraordinaire—just what a prominent businessman could use to enhance his image.
"Quite an intelligent, well-calculated and logical plan," she said through clenched teeth, tugging at the base of a thick, stubborn weed that wouldn't give. "Linking a lending institution with a nonprofit organization." She shook her head, rising onto knees now bare since her panty hose had torn, and brushed the dirt from her hands against her dress. "Blackmailing me into cooperating." Her voice rose to a hysterical note before she groped for the throat of the weed, gripped it with two hands and gave it a vicious wrench.
The ground broke, and Marly crashed onto her bottom with a hard thud. Crumbles of dirt flew in every direction, a few chunks landing in her hair. She didn't care. Instead, she brandished the roots of the humongous weed in the humid night air. "You're even lower on the food chain than this weed, Carter King. Pond scum. That's what you are. Just like the rest of them."
Yes, just like all the rest of the men who'd tried in the past to use her for their own gain. Only, this time she couldn't just run away, go hide in the corner, licking the wounds of her battered pride. This time she wasn't the one with the coveted bounty, the one with the leverage.
"Damn you, Carter." Marly hurled the giant weed with all her might. "Damn you." She raised her face to the inky darkness above her. "So I found him attractive. So I'm just as bad as the rest of them. It was just a thought. I wouldn't have done anything about it. I swear I wouldn't have…"
She drew up her knees, wrapping her arms protectively around herself as she buried her face in the folds of her dress. After a while, she picked herself up, brushed herself off and made her way back to the house.
She remembered the words Annie Lou had spoken to her earlier that evening, before Carter had arrived. "Don't you give up yet, honey. You're too close. You're going to find an answer soon. Something will present itself. You'll see."
Something had presented itself, all right. A breathtaking man had appeared out of the blue and offered to save her center. In return for her bearing his children.
No, not just bearing. Raising, too. Creating a family.
A real family, a distant voice whispered, but Marly squashed the thought.
A real family wasn't possible. Not for her. She'd resigned herself to that fact long ago. She could never allow any man to get that close to her. Not anymore.
Another of life's ironies—where once she'd longed for someone to notice the person inside, now she couldn't risk permitting anyone even a glimpse. No, Annie Lou and the children at the center were the closest thing to family she would ever have.
Her feet were silent on the carpet as she padded downstairs to her bedroom in Annie Lou's converted garage. Her throat felt raw, and her eyes burned. She could still taste Carter on her lips and smell him in her clothes.
Two hours. How could one person change another's life so drastically after a mere two hours?
In the adjoining bathroom, she stripped out of her soiled dress and torn panty hose. Two tears trickled down her cheeks, and she hastily brushed the moisture away with a corner of the dress.
A Chanel original, it was an eighteenth-birthday gift from her mother—two sizes too big, as usual. She'd shipped it from the south of France, along with a generic card and a photo of herself sunbathing aboard her dead husband's yacht, a well-bronzed man's reflection in her sunglasses.
Marly had been foolish to retrieve some of her clothes from storage when she returned from the hospital, but without a nickel to her new name, she'd felt a twinge of desperation. Her mother had died the year before—a car accident supposedly, but she knew otherwise. Thank God she wasn't that desperate anymore.
Not yet, a nagging voice whispered in her mind, followed by an echo of Carter's proposal.
"No," Marly muttered. "I'm not going to let you do this to me, Carter King. Enough is enough."
She wasn't going to think about him anymore. She would go on with her life as if he'd never existed. How difficult could it be to forget two hours of a person's life? She'd already had to forget twenty-two years.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
&n
bsp; How could he forget her when he'd only just found her?
Alone in the darkness of his office, Carter gazed out the window, down on the twinkling lights of the capital city, and wondered if maybe some people were destined to be loners all their lives, and if he was one of them. Sure, he had a lot of friends, a few close buddies like Anil and hordes of acquaintances. Hell, he was constantly surrounded by people, rarely alone except late at night.
But late at night wasn't the only time he felt alone. It happened at different times, catching him unaware. At a party or in the middle of a business meeting. During a sporting event, at lunch in a crowded restaurant or even at a candlelight dinner for two—not that he'd had many of the latter. The last occasion, with a pretty brunette, had sent all his sensors on red alert, reminding him of the dangers involved with a highly attractive woman.
Truth was, he'd never been the dating type, considered it a waste of time for a man who already had umpteen-million social commitments and a bank to run. But that emptiness had continued to grow, even though he refused to acknowledge it. Somewhere deep inside he knew a family would fill that void.
When he allowed himself to envision a family, he realized he wanted the kind he'd never had, the kind he'd only learned about when his mother had read him the story of The Three Little Bears. He remembered asking where the papa bear was in their family.
In retrospect, he would have just as soon never claimed any one of Mama's four good-for-nothing husbands as his papa.
So his desire to have a traditional family was grounded in a children's fairy tale. Not that it mattered, because if securing that end mandated participating in a string of shallow, endless head games again—his experience with the dating ritual—he'd concede defeat right now. And he did, shoving away from the window with a grunt of self-derision.
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