Reese released her with a terse, “I’m going to talk to the senator.”
“But…” she sputtered, embarrassed and bewildered by his rudeness.
Reese left her standing next to his cousin and hurriedly stalked away.
David introduced Faith to his friends. They exchanged pleasantries until the orchestra began to play.
“Would you care to dance?” David asked.
Faith nodded, then allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
“I haven’t danced in years,” she confided, as they moved in time to the music. “I was afraid I had forgotten how. I must warn you to watch your toes, Mr. Alexander.”
David smiled. “I think they’re safe.” She was hesitant in some of her steps, but her natural grace kept her from stumbling. “May I say, Mrs. Collins, that you dance beautifully, despite your understandable lack of practice?”
“You may.” The lilting sound of her laughter drifted across the room.
Reese glowered at the couple on the dance floor. He hadn’t heard a word the senator had said. No matter how hard he tried to ignore them, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Faith. His gaze was continually drawn to the surprisingly lovely woman in burgundy silk. Reese wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to whirl her around the room. He wanted to hear her laugh and to bask in the warmth of her smiles. And he was furious with himself for wanting that.
“Don’t you agree, Mr. Jordan?”
Reese forced himself to concentrate on the senator’s words. “Sir?”
“I was explaining the points of the bill,” Senator Marcus Darcy said. “Don’t you think—”
“Excuse me, Senator.” Reese left his host as abruptly as he’d joined him. “I’ve promised this dance.” He pushed his way through the crowd of dancers until he stood behind his cousin. He tapped David on the shoulder. “I believe this is my dance.” Reese’s words were clipped and curt.
David looked at Reese and then at Faith Collins.
“Well?” Reese demanded.
David smiled an apologetic smile at Faith, then stepped back, releasing his hold on her.
Reese placed one hand on her waist, then took her hand. She was stiff, unyielding.
“I don’t remember promising you a dance,” she hissed at him as he guided her through the beginning of a waltz.
“I didn’t ask.” He winced as she deliberately stepped on his foot. He tightened his hold around her waist.
“You should have.”
“So you could refuse?” He smiled down into her stormy gray eyes.
“Yes.”
“You’re in no position to refuse.”
She trod on his foot once again, then smiled sweetly. “Slavery has been abolished, Mr. Jordan. Or haven’t you heard?”
“As long as there are rich people and poor people, Mrs. Collins”—he pulled her closer to him—“slavery will continue to exist.” He smiled back at her. “In some form.”
Faith’s wide, full mouth tightened into a firm, straight line. Her brows knitted together above her gray eyes. She gritted her teeth and waited for her chance.
They whirled around to the three-quarter rhythm. “If you step on my foot one more time,” Reese warned, anticipating her next move, “I’ll be forced to take retribution.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Faith knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t resist the urge to taunt him.
He pretended to miss a step and jerked her up against the hard length of his body. “You should be.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she said with more conviction than she felt.
“Who said anything about hurting you?” he queried softly, his body pressing intimately against hers, his eyes devouring the sight of the alabaster mounds of her breasts framed by silver lace. The warm, musky, scent of lavender drifted up from the bodice of her gown to tease him.
She was pressed against him. She could feel the heat of his body through his clothing and hers. She could smell the clean, woodsy fragrance he wore and could feel his warm breath against her temple. And she could feel that hard, male part of him, pressing into her stomach. Her blood seemed to race through her veins. Her heart hammered in her chest. She forgot the steps of the dance and lost all sense of rhythm. She stumbled, lurching against him, trampling his feet in the process.
Reese held her firm, his fingers biting into her waist as he struggled to keep his balance. He muttered an obscenity under his breath. The woman was a menace on the dance floor.
He tilted his head, slightly, and Faith noticed the tiny, pale crescent marring his chin. His sun-baked skin and the faint shadow of his beard seemed to highlight the imperfection. It was a normal, everyday scar, the kind gleaned from a childhood fall, not a by-product of war. It drew Faith like a magnet. She wanted to touch it, to caress it with the tip of her finger, press her lips to it, pay homage to that tiny, almost indistinguishable imperfection.
“Pay attention to your steps,” he ordered, dragging her thoughts back to the dance as he dragged her feet back into the rhythm of the waltz.
Faith focused her attention on her feet. Her face colored in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It was—”
“Forget it.”
The music ended. They whirled to a stop.
“But—”
Reese grasped her elbow. “Just forget it.” He looked around and spotted a waiter. “I need a drink.” Tiny dots of perspiration marked his upper lip. His breathing was ragged. His body throbbed in frustration.
“So, do I.” She licked her lips.
Reese stared at her, his right eyebrow quirked at an angle. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. Her chest rose and fell so quickly her breasts threatened to spill over the embroidered neckline of her gown. A trickle of moisture slid over the rounded slopes, then down the valley, disappearing into the silk of her undergarments. His taste buds itched to sample the salty droplets. He leaned toward her, intent on capturing her lips beneath his own.
Her eyes widened, softened to a warm, pewter color, then slowly closed.
“Sorry. Excuse me.” A man’s sharp elbow caught Reese in the rib cage. Reese turned to find the culprit and was instantly reminded of his surroundings.
He stood at the edge of the dance floor, Faith Collins scant inches away from him. A dozen or so couples pushed past them on their way into dinner.
“Reese! Reese Jordan!”
Faith’s eyes snapped open at the sound.
Reese turned to his left.
Senator Darcy motioned to him. “Over here, my boy. There’s someone I want you to meet. He’d like your opinion on something.”
Biting back a groan, Reese offered Faith his arm. She tucked her hand inside the crook of his elbow.
Immediately realizing his mistake, Reese clamped his mouth shut in an effort to gain control over his body. A muscle in his jaw began to tic under the strain, and Reese wondered how in the hell he was going to manage to talk with his mouth closed. But he suffered in silence as he led Faith over to the senator with about as much enthusiasm as a man marching to the gallows.
Chapter Eleven
Negotiating the contract was hell. The two parties faced each other across the width of a cherry dining table brought in for the occasion. Faith Collins and Temperance Hamilton sat on one side. Reese Jordan and David Alexander sat on the other. A stack of legal contracts was centered between them, occupying neutral territory.
The silver coffee pot was considered neutral territory by necessity. It was in great demand that early in the morning. The participants tended to monopolize it, especially, since two of the four, negotiators were nursing headaches of monstrous proportions.
The battle lines had been drawn, the parties, stalemated, on either side. David looked at Reese, then at Faith. “Let’s go over the terms of the contract once again.”
“We’ve been over the contract,” Reese interrupted. “What’s the point of going over it again?”
“The point,” David said firmly, “is t
o sign it. Neither of you has agreed to do that yet.”
“She has to sign it. I’ve already paid an advance on her salary,” Reese stated.
“I’ve already spent the money. I can’t give it back,” Faith reminded him.
“The least you can do is sign the damned contract.” Reese glared at her. He hadn’t slept, and he had a bitch of a headache. He was in no mood to negotiate every point of the contract.
“Not the way it stands.” Faith gritted her teeth and rubbed her forehead. Her head ached, probably from all the champagne she’d consumed. Why hadn’t he warned her about the effects of too much champagne?
“What’s wrong with it?” Reese was spoiling for a fight and it was all Faith’s fault. If she hadn’t worn that damn red dress, he wouldn’t have been in this condition.
“Everything.” Faith crossed her arms over her chest. The man reeked. He smelled like a saloon of cigar smoke, alcohol, and expensive perfume. How dare he show up looking and smelling this way? It was insulting. As insulting as being ignored all evening while he talked politics with Yankee robber barons, and then being dropped off at the front desk of a hotel at two o’clock in the morning without so much as a goodnight kiss! He had some nerve!
She had nerve, he thought, sitting there refusing to sign. Who did she think she was, looking at him as if he’d crawled from the gutter, when she was the one who’d gotten tipsy on champagne? What right did she have to glower at him? He was the one who’d kept his wits about him. If he hadn’t dropped her off at the hotel, he’d have made love to her in the carriage—without a contract. How would she feel about that?
Reese reached for the coffee pot. She beat him to it, her hand already on the silver handle. He seized the pot and pulled it in his direction. Faith stubbornly refused to let go.
“Children, children,” Tempy chided, taking the pot from their hands and pouring both of them a cup. “You’re behaving like spoiled, pig-headed, little brats.” She looked to David for confirmation.
David agreed. “We aren’t getting anywhere. Why don’t we call the whole thing off?”
“No!” Reese and Faith shouted, simultaneously.
“Then stop this nonsense and let’s get down to business.” David’s voice was firm. His patience was stretched to the limits by their stubbornness. It was time to compromise or quit. “First of all…”
He explained the contract thoroughly, then went over the sticking points. “The fee is twenty thousand dollars.” He looked to Reese.
Reese nodded in agreement.
Tempy gasped at the enormous amount of money.
Faith shook her head.
“Oh, hell!” Reese muttered in disgust. “What’s wrong with that? Not enough?”
“Too much,” Faith said firmly.
“Too much?” Reese sputtered, surprised. “What the devil…?” For a minute, he had forgotten who he was dealing with. “How much do you want?”
“Half that amount,” she told him. “I’ll accept ten thousand.”
Reese looked at David. “All right. I agree to pay you ten thousand. Half now and half at delivery. Agreed?” He stared at Faith, willing her to agree.
“Minus the advance of three thousand, eighty-six dollars and thirty four cents, of course.”
“Minus the advance,” Reese agreed. She didn’t know about the extra six thousand in her bank. And by the time she found out, the contract would be signed, witnessed, and recorded. He wanted to be sure she couldn’t come back after the divorce, begging for more money, or claiming he’d cheated her. She’d get twenty thousand whether she wanted it or not.
“Mr. Jordan agrees to provide food, clothing, and shelter for both Mrs. Collins and her daughter, Joy. He will also pay any additional living expenses for the duration of the pregnancy.” David continued, “Mrs. Collins agrees to reside at Mr. Jordan’s ranch in Wyoming for up to one year. She agrees to leave as soon as she is able to travel following the birth of the child.” He looked at Faith.
She started to agree when Temperance whispered in her ear. “I agree to leave as soon as my health permits, provided a suitable wet nurse is in residence. My aunt pointed out that finding a wet nurse might take some time. I won’t deprive my child of nourishment.” Faith blushed, profusely, as she met Reese’s gaze. “Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Jordan?”
“Acceptable and reasonable,” he told her, “I appreciate your concern for my child as long as you understand that you are forfeiting your rights to him. You must leave Wyoming and never attempt to contact him.”
Faith shifted in her chair. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her stomach lurched, convulsively, but she didn’t speak.
“Do you understand?” Reese asked, bluntly, running his fingers through his hair.
Faith nodded.
“Do you agree to forfeit all rights of motherhood?” Reese met her gaze. “Permanently?”
“Even if you die?” Faith asked. “Or get killed?” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and began twisting it. She pinned him with those solemn, gray eyes.
“Even then.” He flinched when he met her gaze, but he refused to look away.
Faith hesitated. “What would happen to him if you died?”
“Mr. Jordan will be the legal father of the infant and the baby will be his legal and rightful heir. A guardian is to be named in Mr. Jordan’s will, and appointed to take care of the child until its majority,” David explained.
Faith looked at the attorney. “David, I want you to be the baby’s guardian. If something should happen to Mr. Jordan, I want you to agree to raise my child.”
“I’ll decide what’s best for my child,” Reese told her. He had already signed a new will naming David guardian of any offspring, but that was beside the point. He couldn’t allow Faith Collins to dictate terms.
“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else,” Faith said quietly. She rose from her chair and leaned over the table. “This point is not negotiable. The guardian must be David Alexander.” She was aware that only David would know her whereabouts if something happened to Reese. He would be her only link to her child.
She held her breath. She thought he might refuse. He certainly looked as if he wanted to. His eyes were dark and stormy, and narrowed to mere slits in his face. He clenched his teeth. The muscles on the right side of his face quivered under the strain.
She leaned down to whisper something in her aunt’s ear. Tempy pushed her chair away from the table.
Reese remained seated. He wanted to call her bluff. He wanted to challenge her, but he didn’t. He sat in impotent fury, knowing he had to agree to her condition. He could tell from the deliberately impassive look on her face that she would not concede.
“All right, dammit!” He did not lose graciously. “I agree to your terms.” He waited for her to gloat over her victory, but again he had misjudged her.
Her softly spoken thank-you sounded grateful and sincere.
And so it continued throughout the morning as they examined, discussed, and decided upon every minute detail of the contract until they reached the stickiest point of all.
Uncomfortable with the final item, David cleared his throat and reached for the last sheet of paper. “All that’s left to settle is the actual…uh...number...” He cleared his throat once more, louder this time, and tried again. “The...uh...actual...number of…attempts at conception.”
“What?” Tempy couldn’t believe her ears. She blushed to the roots of her red hair at the idea of setting an actual number.
“We must establish a time frame. If the child is not delivered within one year, the contract is null and void.” David struggled to maintain his professional demeanor.
Reese grinned.
Tempy and Faith huddled together, discussing the ramifications of the scheme. They whispered together for several minutes before they arrived at a number.
“Do you think three will be sufficient?” Faith asked.
Reese grinned again, this time with smug s
atisfaction. “I think three will be fine.”
David scribbled in the number without allowing time for further debate.
In their haste to settle on a number, neither Reese nor Faith thought to ask if “three” referred to the number of times they would share a bed or if it meant three minutes, three hours, three days, weeks, or months.
David handed Reese and Faith a copy of the agreement, then held out his pen.
“There is one other thing,” Reese said casually. “From the moment you sign this paper, Mrs. Collins, you will live with me. Only me. If I even suspect you’ve been with another man, the contract will be declared invalid and the money forfeited.”
“How dare you?” Tempy leaped to her feet.
“I dare, Miss Hamilton,” Reese answered silkily, “because there must be no question about my son’s paternity. I want him to have impeccable bloodlines and an untarnished reputation.” He fixed his chocolate-brown eyes on Faith. “I may not choose to announce it publicly, but we are legally bound until the end of your pregnancy. The proxy marriage is real. We are temporarily husband and wife. In Wyoming, we will live as husband and wife. I’ll expect you to behave circumspectly. There will be no other men in your life.”
Faith recoiled as if he’d slapped her. Her cheeks turned a brilliant red. Her chest heaved in indignation. Her gray eyes flashed angrily. “Is that your final condition?” Her words were frosty.
“It is.”
“Good.” Faith continued to face him. “I, too, have a final condition. You see, Mr. Jordan, I am very fastidious. If you ever come to me in your present state―reeking of alcohol, tobacco, and another woman’s perfume―I will consider the contract null and void whether I carry your child or not. I’ll gladly forfeit the remainder of the money, but you will forfeit all rights to my child.” She swallowed quickly to discourage the bile churning in her throat. “I agreed to that farcical ceremony, and I, at least, had the courage to utter the words. In person. Understand this, Mr. Jordan: There will be no other women in your life for the duration of the contract.” She flung his words back in his face.
Reese said nothing. He jerked the pen from David’s hand and scrawled his signature on one copy of the agreement, then the other, before shoving the instrument at Faith.
Golden Chances Page 10