The Millionaire's Marriage Demand

by Sandra Field

  She’d been very quiet for the last part of the journey. He could have asked her about her parents, but something had held him back. Now he said casually, “Why don’t we go for dinner, you must be hungry.”

  The inside of the chalet was luxuriously furnished, the bed king-size, the bathroom fitted with a whirlpool tub. Travis dumped the bag of clothes on the chesterfield that overlooked the ocean. “I hope you like them.”

  She took out the dresses, her face lighting up with spontaneous pleasure. “They’re great—but you must have spent a wad of money.”

  “We can talk about that later… I’ll wait for you on the deck.”

  He stood by the railing, gazing out to sea, aching to hold her in his arms and reassure himself that she really did want to be here. Don’t rush her, Travis, you’ve got all weekend. And you know perfectly well what’ll happen if you touch her.

  He went back inside in a few minutes. Julie was just emerging from the bathroom, wearing the sundress he’d picked out because it was as green as her eyes. It also showed rather a lot of bare skin. He said lightly, “Ready to eat?”

  She nodded, hurrying for the door. Side by side they walked back to the lodge. The dining room was on an inlet, overlooking the bay and the sunset’s orange and saffron glow. They discussed the menu, the wine list, the weather, his job and hers, meanwhile eating fish chowder and game hens with wild rice. The waiter cleared away their plates, passing them dessert menus. Julie read through hers, chattering away about her addiction for dark chocolate. He’d never thought of her as a woman who had to fill the silence with idle talk.

  The waiter left. Travis said with no finesse whatsoever, “I don’t want chocolate. I want you.”

  She dropped the menu and said in a rush, “You haven’t as much as touched me since we got here. I thought you’d changed your mind. That you regretted bringing me here.”

  Nothing could be further from the truth. He reached over and covered her fingers with his, feeling them curl into his palm. “I didn’t want to grab you the minute we walked in the door.”

  “I noticed that.”

  “I figured I should show a little subtlety this time.”

  “So is it chocolate mousse or me?” she asked, her dark lashes falling to hide her eyes.

  He pushed back his chair, still holding her by the hand. “I’ll tell the waiter to put this on our room account… let’s go.”

  “We shouldn’t run. It wouldn’t look good.”

  In a voice pitched for her ears alone, he said, “I want you, Julie, don’t ever doubt that.”

  “It’s mutual,” she said with a dazzling smile that took his breath away.

  They didn’t actually run to the chalet; but they held hands the whole way, and once they were indoors Travis took Julie in his arms and kissed her with a passionate and protracted intensity that she more than matched. Hastily he detached himself to draw the blinds, watching her kick off her sandals and pull her dress over her head. He’d bought her lace underwear; wondering if his heart could force its way out of his chest, he saw how the sweet curves of her breasts were cupped in the delicate fabric. “Every time I see you,” he said huskily, “I can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

  She walked toward him, holding herself proudly under his gaze, the slim lines of her thighs pale in the dusk. “Make love to me, Travis,” she said.

  He took her by the waist, pulling her toward his hips, where it was more than obvious that he was ready for her. Had he ever known with such certainty that he was exactly where he wanted to be? More than that, he was with the one woman who could fill an inner loneliness he’d scarcely known was his. He pushed this thought aside to examine later, and with all the skill he possessed set out to make Julie as happy to be here as he was.

  Later, when Travis looked back on a weekend he knew he’d never forget, there were images that rose in his mind. Julie seducing him in the nightgown he’d bought her, which clung to all her curves and almost bared her breasts. Julie wearing nothing at all, holding out her arms to him in the big bed. The play of expression on her face. The soft, intimate sound of her breathing in the middle of the night, as she slept curled into his body. Her laughter. Her grace. Her sudden tears after a lovemaking as elemental as a cyclone…

  They made it to the dining room for Saturday lunch and Sunday breakfast. Once, they walked on the beach for fifteen minutes. The rest of the time they spent in the chalet, ordering room service when they realized they were hungry for something other than each other. They talked very little, letting their bodies speak for them. If Travis thought about it at all, he must have decided subliminally to leave the subject of Julie’s parents for another time. He and Julie were building a foundation for the future; any discussions would be better based on that foundation.

  He had no idea what he meant by that vague word future.

  On Sunday morning after they’d made love in the tub, splashing rather a lot of water on the floor in the process, he said, “I wish we could stay all week… I’m not ready to go home.”

  She gave a lazy chuckle. “I’m going back to work to rest up.”

  “Can’t take the pace, huh?”

  “You’re too much for me.”

  “Haven’t heard you complaining.”

  She swiped at his chest with the towel, her smile fading. “This has been a perfect weekend, Travis. But we do have to go back to normal.”

  He captured her hand in his. “I’ve got meetings tomorrow night that I can’t get out of. But why don’t you come to my place on Tuesday after work?”

  She brought their linked hands to her cheek, closing her eyes. “I can’t get enough of you,” she said faintly.

  “I’m not going to vanish the minute we leave here, Julie.”

  So he’d understood, she thought slowly. “This has been so magical, how can we possibly transpose it to our ordinary lives?” she said with a touch of desperation.

  “We can. And we will.”

  The dark hair on his chest was sleek as a seal’s pelt. She laid her other palm over his heart, feeling its steady pounding against her skin. “Tuesday night,” she said with attempted levity. “It’s a date. And now I guess I’d better get some clothes on. I’ll wear the other dress, the one I haven’t tried yet.”

  “It’s the color of the ocean where I first saw you,” Travis said.

  Her lashes flickered. Once again, in a few words, he’d pierced her to the heart. She walked back into the bedroom, pulled on her underwear and slipped the dress over her head. Then she stood still, trying to memorize her surroundings. A sun-drenched room with the sound of waves and the soft whisper of pine boughs coming through the open windows. And a bed in which she’d found a happiness she hadn’t known existed.

  How was she going to bear leaving here?

  She wanted to stay forever.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  By Monday evening, Julie wasn’t sure about anything. In the middle of the night, she’d woken up in her three-quarter bed reaching for Travis; he hadn’t, of course, been there. But rather than waking to memories of the bliss she’d experienced in his arms, she’d instantly been suffused by a cold anxiety that she couldn’t dispel, no matter how many parakeets she counted.

  Yes, it had been a fabulous weekend. The ultimate getaway with a handsome, sexy man. But one weekend didn’t make a relationship; had nothing to do with permanence. While she was almost sure Travis wanted to keep on seeing her, what did she want?

  She didn’t want commitment. She certainly didn’t want marriage. So why was she even contemplating seeing him again? Wasn’t she getting deeper into trouble every time they got together?

  Or did she just want a series of wild weekends that were utterly divorced from her normal life? Even she could see that wouldn’t work, not with a man like Travis.

  Eventually Julie went back to sleep, the alarm waking her from dreams that left her feeling frazzled and exhausted. She worked all day, caught the bus home and had leftovers for supper. The ap
artment seemed very empty without Travis and tomorrow evening an age away.

  But she didn’t want intimacy. She didn’t.

  Even if she scarcely knew what it was.

  With an impatient sigh Julie changed her clothes and went out for a walk. She crossed the cobblestone street, her brow furrowed in thought. Travis had suggested she sleep at his place last night; but she’d demurred. He was moving too quickly for her, she needed time alone, one by one she’d trotted out all the clichés. She believed every one of them. So why did she miss him so unceasingly?

  Then her steps slowed. Consciously or unconsciously, she’d been walking in the direction of her parents’ street. She might as well drop in. Considering everything that had happened to her since last Friday, she might even see them with new eyes.

  It was worth a try. But when she climbed the front steps of the freshly painted bungalow and rang the doorbell, there was no answer; her father’s car was gone from the driveway. They’d probably be back soon. She’d been wanting to go through some of her old books in the attic in order to reread a couple of them; now was as good a time as any. She let herself in with the key her mother had given her, and went straight upstairs. The attic was very warm, and rather less tidy than the rest of Pearl’s domain.

  Which box had the books been stored in? And why hadn’t she labeled it? Julie started opening boxes at random, finding sets of old dishes, all her father’s account books for the last twenty years, and then a box of old photo albums. She picked up the first album, suddenly curious. Below it, facedown, was a gold-framed photograph. Carefully Julie lifted it out and turned it over.

  It was a wedding photo of a young couple, the bride in a slim-fitting white dress with a trailing bouquet of roses, the groom lean and handsome in a tuxedo. The bride’s arm was tucked confidingly into her new husband’s, his hand lying protectively over hers; they were both smiling radiantly into the camera.

  It took Julie a full ten seconds to realize that the two people in the photograph were her parents. The groom was Thomas, the bride Pearl.

  She sat back on her heels, staring at the two faces with strained intensity. They looked so carefree, so joyful. More than that, she realized, as all her new knowledge came to the fore, they looked physically close, their body language speaking of the bed they would share that night.

  They were total strangers to her. Had she ever seen them look like that in real life?

  No. Never.

  Happiness doesn’t last, she thought numbly. Neither does desire. Thomas and Pearl had once been as delighted with each other’s company as she and Travis had been all weekend. While it might be true that not all relationships head the same way, it could equally be true that she and Travis could be as doomed as her parents, and the thought made Julie go cold.

  She grabbed for the next picture frame, her hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it. Her mother and father in a formal pose, Pearl holding a three-year-old in a pretty pink dress. The child was herself. Thomas was standing stiffly behind his seated wife, his hand placed on her shoulder with a rigid correctness; while both he and Pearl were smiling, the radiance was gone. These were smiles for the camera, not smiles of spontaneous happiness.

  Something had gone wrong by the time she was three. Had it been her fault? Hadn’t they wanted her?

  With a whimper of distress Julie put the photos back in the box, jammed the album on top of them and closed the cardboard flaps. Her books were forgotten. She scrambled to her feet, wiping the dust from her shorts, and ran downstairs. The driveway was still empty. In such a confused state of mind that she was frantic to be gone before her parents returned, she quickly locked the door behind her and hurried down the street.

  There was no sign of her father’s car. Nor, when she got back to her apartment building, was it parked near there; how ironic if they’d been trying to visit her while she was at their place. She scurried upstairs. Never had her apartment seemed such a haven. Throwing herself down on the chesterfield, Julie realized that she was crying. They were slow tears of despair, loss and deep sadness, all the anxieties she’d locked away since childhood pouring out.

  She was crying for her parents, for the happiness and intimacy that they’d lost. She was also crying for herself. For, of course, this confirmed all her fears. Any long-term relationship with Travis was out of the question. She couldn’t bear to experience-the slow erosion of passion, or the destruction of the intimacy she’d so tentatively explored in his embrace.

  It was all too easily lost, leaving nothing but emptiness and bitter memories.

  Nothing was to be trusted, happiness least of all.

  She mustn’t see Travis again.

  Julie took this resolve to bed with her, cried herself to sleep, and woke heavy-eyed in the morning. She was busy all day at the clinic, and glad to be so; when she got home, there was a message on her machine from Travis. “Call me as soon as you get in. I’ll take you out for dinner—the contents of my refrigerator look like a bacteriology experiment gone wrong. But I did change the sheets on the bed. See you soon.”

  She mustn’t cry. Not again.

  She’d better phone him. Get it over with.

  All her movements leaden, she picked up the receiver and punched in his number. He picked it up on the first ring. “Julie?”

  He sounded so eager. So happy, she thought with a pang of pure agony. Her voice seemed to have disappeared. “Julie,” he repeated sharply, “are you there?”

  “Yes,” she croaked.

  “What’s the matter? You sound terrible.”

  What was worse, his happiness or his concern, so immediate she could almost feel it? “I—Travis, I’m not coming over tonight. Or any night. We mustn’t see each other again.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I don’t want to see you again,” she said more strongly.

  “Stay where you are. I’m coming over.”

  “No, you can’t!” But he was gone. Slowly she put the receiver back in its cradle.

  She was still in her uniform. But what did it matter? She’d repeat what she’d already told him and then he’d really be gone. Forever, this time. The way it had to be.

  She went to the bathroom and washed her face in cold water, carefully applying blusher and lipstick in an effort to make herself presentable. All too soon, the buzzer rang, loudly and imperatively. A cold lump of dread lodged somewhere below her heart, Julie went to the door.

  Travis walked in, closed the door and took her in his arms. For a moment she sagged against him, oblivious to everything but the comfort and security of his embrace, the familiar warmth of his body. Then she stiffened, pushing him away. He stared down at her, missing, she was sure, not one detail of her ravaged appearance. “What’s up?”

  She said rapidly, “I can’t go on with this. I don’t want to see you again.”

  “You already told me that. Why, Julie? What’s happened between Sunday afternoon and now?”

  “Passion, happiness, love—none of them last.”

  “They last if you want them to. If you work at it.”

  “You might believe that. I don’t.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t talking this way on Sunday. Have you seen your parents since then?”

  “Why can’t you just accept what I’m saying?”

  “Because it’s not good enough. We’re lovers, we spent the weekend together—and now you think you can fob me off With a bunch of generalizations about happiness?”

  “All right, then. Let me tell you what happened.” Speaking very fast, she described what she’d found in the attic and how it had affected her. “My parents were happy once. Just like us on the weekend. You’ve never met them… but believe me, they’re not happy now.” Her voice broke. “They hate each other. But they’re too damn polite to say so. So they snipe at each other continually, until I can’t bear to be around them. It was like that the whole time I was growing up, a thin layer of civility that hid any honest emotions, so that I n
ever knew what was really going on. What I could trust.”

  She was crying again. She swiped at her cheeks, furious with herself. “There were all kinds of petty rules that I was supposed to obey. All for my own good, of course. Especially once I reached puberty, because heaven forbid there should be any straight talk about sex. I don’t know if they even had any sex. They never touched each other and I can’t remember my father ever giving my mother a hug.” She jammed her hands in the pockets of her uniform. “I rebelled against almost all the rules and left home the summer I graduated from high school.” Scowling at him, she went on, “The one area where I didn’t rebel was sex. I was afraid to, I guess. I think even then I sensed I’d be in real trouble if I did. And I was right. This weekend proves my point. I’m not going to end up like my parents, I’d rather be single my whole life. So I want you to go now. And I don’t want to see you again.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “We wouldn’t end up like your parents—I know we wouldn’t.”

  She could feel the force of his willpower, unbending as steel, and called on all her reserves to withstand it. “I disagree.”

  “This is the second time you’ve pulled this stunt—made love with me, then shown me the door.”

  “I can’t help it! Don’t you see, Travis? Now is the time to end this, while it’s still just sex between us, while we—”

  “Just sex?” he interrupted incredulously. “Is that all I mean to you?”

  “We spent the whole weekend in bed. What’s that if it’s not sex?”

  “We made love, Julie.”

  “That’s just an expression. A cover-up—like my parents’ politeness. We had sex, Travis. Great sex. Amazing sex. But don’t let’s pretend it was anything else.”

  “If that’s what you think,” he said in a hard voice, “then I’m out of here. I won’t be treated as a prize stud. Not by you or anyone else.”