Marry Me, Mendoza!

by Judy Duarte

  Besides, her luck didn’t seem to be so good these days anyway.

  She checked the tag—size eight. She’d have to try it on to know for sure, but it ought to fit. And Miguel had guessed that it would, just by seeing it on a mannequin?

  For some dumb reason, her eyes filled with tears.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did you have your heart set on choosing the dress yourself?”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  Miguel took her hand and gave it a warm, gentle squeeze. “I just thought we should make everything appear authentic so that we can pull off the ruse.”

  One tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another. He released his hold on her hand, then reached out and ran the curve of his index finger below her eyes, catching the droplets, drying her skin.

  His tender response, his gentle touch, his manly scent all worked against her, sending her heart scampering through her chest.

  He was so close....

  All she had to do was lift her hand to touch him, to reach behind his neck and draw his mouth to hers in a long, deep kiss.

  But she couldn’t possibly make a move like that.

  All right, she definitely could. But she shouldn’t. And she wouldn’t.

  One heated kiss would only lead to another, and before long, she’d want more. So much more.

  Yet in spite of her resolve, her heart pounded in anticipation as the ever-present tension swirled around them, complicating everything.

  All her life—well, up until she’d broken up with Miguel in high school—she’d dreamed of this day.

  Okay, so not this particular day. But she’d dreamed of a time such as this one, a time when she’d be looking forward to walking down the aisle and carrying a bouquet.

  Uh-oh, flowers—one more thing she’d forgotten to add to her list of things to do. She’d have to call the florist that was located near the office. That is, if she and Miguel actually went through with the wedding and didn’t elope.

  She looked at the dress one more time. It really was pretty. And for a moment, she envisioned Miguel standing at the altar of Red Rock Community Church, waiting for her, longing for her, loving her....

  Then reality set in.

  She would marry Miguel on Saturday, but that’s where the perfect illusion would end. Their vows might be legal, yet the rest of it—the white dress, the tiered cake, the professions of love, the promise of forever—was merely a dream that would never come true.

  Chapter Seven

  Miguel sat in the living room, waiting for Nicole to come out of her bedroom and model the dress he’d purchased an hour ago. She seemed a bit skittish this evening, as if she was ready to bolt. Either that or to burst into tears again.

  He’d heard that brides sometimes got emotional, but in her case, that didn’t seem feasible.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall, and he glanced at the doorway, watching as she swept into the room, the slinky material hugging each and every curve.

  His breath caught at the sight. That mannequin had nothing on her. Hell, neither did Kate Middleton.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  He found his voice. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s...perfect. You look great.”

  “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  “Absolutely not.” He wouldn’t lie to her, yet he still read insecurity and skepticism in her gaze.

  She turned to the right, flashing him a glimpse of the lovely curve of her backside. “Does it make my butt look big?”

  She was kidding, right?

  When she turned around to face him, her gaze seeking some kind of confirmation, a slow smile tugged at his lips. “You’ve got the cutest butt I’ve ever seen—covered in silk or just bare skin.”

  They stood in silence, aware of what they’d once had and caught up in something neither of them had expected—tempted beyond reason, taunted beyond measure.

  The years began to roll back, the pain and disappointments, too. And for a couple of beats, they were seventeen again, with eyes only for each other.

  Without a conscious thought, Miguel reached out and skimmed his fingers along the curve of her hip, along the sleek fabric of her dress. The moment he touched her, a bolt of heat shot clean through him, and it took all he had not to scoop her into his arms and carry her to bed.

  Her breath hitched and her lips parted at the sensual caress, but she didn’t pull away, didn’t object.

  In fact, she continued to study him in silence.

  He could make another seductive move, he supposed, but for some reason, he opted to wait until the time was right. Until the mood had been set.

  “Do you have a passport?” he asked.

  “I... Yes, I do. Why?”

  “Be sure to pack it for the honeymoon.”

  She cocked her head slightly to the side and furrowed her brow. “You’re planning a honeymoon?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” And thanks to a few strings Miguel had pulled, as well as the generosity of his buddy, Sawyer Fortune, he added, “The best one ever.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Her voice came out soft, low and a bit breathy.

  “A honeymoon will be expected.”

  “Of course. You’re right.”

  “As a side note,” he added, “I realize your heart might not be in it, but I plan to make the best of this. And that means that I intend for our wedding, as well as our marriage, as short as it might be, to be real in every sense of the word.”

  It was also the only way he’d be able to pull off their ploy without disappointing his family—and maybe even himself.

  There she went again with that slight cock of her head, that arch of a single brow.

  He’d been talking about sex, and she seemed to be wrapping her mind around his intention—struggling with it, no doubt.

  Good. That meant she was considering it, too.

  “If you’re talking about making love,” she said, “that would only complicate things.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. But in a nice way.” He tossed her a crooked grin, then turned and headed for the guest room.

  He didn’t doubt for a moment that his words had stunned her, tempted her. They also gave her something to think about, maybe even dream about when she climbed into bed alone.

  Good. He wanted it that way.

  He might need a cold shower tonight, but if things went his way—and he had no doubt they would—he wouldn’t need another frigid dunking for the duration of their marriage.

  * * *

  If Nicole hadn’t already agreed to go with Miguel on Sunday to look at the property he was considering for his nightclub, she would have found an excuse to leave the house at the crack of dawn, just so she could avoid him.

  Not that she wasn’t sorely tempted to let their relationship take a sexual turn. After all, she was only human. And she knew firsthand just how good making love with him would be. But she also feared the complications that would bring.

  She’d told herself that she’d gotten over him years ago, but she wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Either way, the attraction she felt was certainly alive and well. Last night was proof of that. He’d set her blood on fire with a single look, a single touch.

  After a quiet dinner, he’d turned in early, as if thoughts of sex hadn’t fazed him at all. Yet she’d lain awake for hours, dreaming of how it used to be, doubting if a platonic marriage would work with her paired up with Miguel and wondering if he was right about making things as real as they could be, under the circumstances.

  Finally morning came. After a cup of coffee and a light breakfast, they took her car into town.

  “It’s not much on the outside,” he warned, as she turned down Main Street. “But keep in mind that Roberto and
I are going to remodel it.”

  He told her to take the parking space in front of an ugly orange-and-brown building, a crack in the front window.

  “This is it,” he said, as he got out of the car. “What do you think?”

  “It’s going to need a lot of work—starting with several coats of paint.”

  “Absolutely. And all-new outdoor lighting, as well as a big neon sign that says Mendoza’s. You won’t recognize it when we’re finished.”

  Nicole tried to envision the abandoned building as a country-western nightclub, a place where the locals would hang out and kick up their heels.

  “I wish I could take you inside,” he said, leading her to a dirt-smudged window, his voice sparked with enthusiasm. “You’ll have to use your imagination for now. Picture hardwood floors and one of those old-style cowboy bars all along the east wall, the kind a thirsty, fun-loving cowboy can belly up to. But the rest of it will be modern, with large screens playing country music videos when a band isn’t on the stage. There’s also going to be a raised dance floor.”

  He was right. The building itself wasn’t much on the outside, but the location was perfect. And it was certainly large enough for what he had in mind.

  She stole a glance at her old high school boyfriend as he peered through the window. She caught the glimmer in his eye, the smile that ran far deeper than the surface.

  She was glad she’d come, glad he’d shared this moment with her. His excitement, especially since she’d known how long he’d dreamed of owning a nightclub, was contagious, filling her own heart and soul with all the possibilities.

  He turned to her and asked, “So what do you really think?”

  She knew he’d make up his own mind, that he’d go to Roberto for advice, if he thought he needed it. Yet it pleased her to know that her opinion somehow mattered.

  “You’ve found a jewel,” she said.

  His smile broadened. “I’m glad you like it. I’m meeting with Roberto this afternoon. As long as the numbers work out, we’ll try to negotiate a lease with an option to buy. The owner died about a year ago, and the place was tied up in probate. A nephew has control of it now, and according to Roberto, he lives out of state and just wants to unload it.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Their gazes met, and for a moment, she felt a connection form between them. Or had she only imagined it?

  “Would you like to stop by Red for lunch?” he asked.

  A chicken tostada actually sounded good, but she feared she might lose her head around him. So she needed to put a little space between the two of them until the wedding on Saturday.

  “I’d better not,” she said. “I have to go into the office today. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning, and I’m not ready for it.”

  If he suspected she was lying, he didn’t comment. But then again, maybe he was just too focused on the lease, on the remodel and the nightclub he planned to open sometime this summer. And if so, that was just as well.

  It made tiptoeing around a sexual relationship that much easier.

  On Monday morning, Nicole left the house early for the office, reminding Miguel about the meeting she’d told him she had to attend. And while there hadn’t been any such meeting, that didn’t mean she couldn’t find plenty of things to do that would serve to keep her mind off her handsome houseguest.

  And that’s just what she did.

  Two hours later, she was knee-deep in researching a question the CPA had asked over the telephone earlier today when her father came into her office. On some level she sensed his presence, but she didn’t look up from the paperwork on her desk until he cleared his throat.

  Instead of the warm, jovial greeting she usually received, his demeanor was stiff, his arms crossed.

  “Have you been avoiding your mother and me?” he asked.

  She often found herself guarding her answers to his questions, especially when her father was so direct. But this time she opted for honesty—at least, as much as she dared. “In a way, I suppose I have been keeping to myself. Things were pretty stressful when we had dinner at the country club last week. And I didn’t want to put Miguel through another evening like that.”

  Her father clucked his tongue. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Under the circumstances, your mother and I were more than cordial. You can’t blame us for not liking the idea of you marrying a man you hardly even know. And don’t tell me you’ve known each other for years. That’s bunk. You were kids back then, and you’ve both changed.”

  She pushed her chair away from her desk and stood. “Well, I’m not a kid anymore, Daddy. And neither is Miguel. I can look out for myself. I’m a college graduate—and I’m a respected member of the Castleton Boots team.”

  “Of course you are. All I’m asking is that you not do anything hasty.”

  “Like what?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant.

  “If you’re planning to marry that man just so you can gain control of the company, you’ll be making a big mistake. It’s not too late for me to make changes. I can leave everything to the Red Rock Humane Society if I want to.”

  “The only reason I’m marrying Miguel is because I love him,” Nicole said. “End of story.”

  She crossed her own arms at that point, wishing her words were true. Then she added, “If you and Mom hadn’t interfered last time, you might have been grandparents already. As it is, you’ll have to wait until we get around to planning a family.”

  She probably ought to tell her father that she and Miguel were getting married at Molly’s Pride next Saturday at one o’clock, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. In fact, there had to be a hundred reasons why she kept dragging her feet, only one of which was their attitude toward Miguel.

  The past and old hurts came into play, too.

  When her mom and dad had learned that she and Miguel were having sex, they’d flipped out. She supposed she could understand that. But they’d refused to consider her feelings and insisted that she break up with him, threatening to send her off to boarding school if she didn’t.

  She’d gone along with their wishes, like the obedient daughter she’d always tried her best to be.

  Still, they’d placed a curfew on her until she’d left for college, demanding that she be home each night by nine.

  She supposed they had assumed teenagers wouldn’t have sex or couldn’t get into trouble during the daylight hours.

  Yet even now, ten years later, she sensed that they still didn’t trust her to do the right thing without their guidance. So at twenty-seven, she’d finally begun to rebel—at least, passively.

  That’s why she’d purchased the new house and planned to move away from the gated community where they lived. That’s also why she flew to New York and offered to pay Miguel to marry her.

  And that’s why she wouldn’t mention the wedding to her parents until after the ink had dried on the license.

  * * *

  The rest of the week went by in a blur, and before Nicole knew it, Saturday dawned warm and bright. As she lay in bed alone, she realized how little she had seen of her handsome houseguest the past few days. And while she’d started out doing everything she could to avoid crossing his path, it hadn’t taken much effort once he’d cinched the deal on the Winslow building.

  Last Tuesday morning he had signed a five-year lease with an option to buy, and from then on, he’d left the house just after sunrise and didn’t return until after dark. They’d hardly seen each other since.

  She had a feeling that’s what she could expect from their short-lived marriage. Miguel would spend nights and weekends working at the nightclub, and she’d be at the office from Monday through Friday.

  I can see where that will create problems on the home front, her father had said
while they’d had dinner at the country club. What kind of life is that for a man who expects to have a happy wife and family?

  He’d had a point, she supposed. But theirs wasn’t going to be a traditional marriage. It was merely a way for them to each make their dreams come true. Miguel was getting the nightclub he’d always wanted, and she’d soon be the CEO of Castleton Boots.

  Don’t worry about the time Miguel will need to spend away from home, Nicole had told her father that night. And it’s what she reminded herself now. They’d work things out—one way or another.

  Nicole glanced at the clock on the bureau. It was already after eight o’clock—her wedding day had finally dawned. So she threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

  After a stretch and a yawn, she padded to the bedroom window, opened the shutters and peered outside, where gray clouds greeted her instead of sunny blue skies.

  An omen? she wondered.

  She shook off the superstitious thought, choosing to be more practical instead. What would they do if it rained?

  Move the ceremony into the ranch house, she supposed.

  After showering, she used a blow-dryer to style her hair to a soft, glossy shine. Then she applied some lipstick and slipped on a pair of white jeans and a turquoise blouse.

  Next she packed the rest of her makeup in an overnight bag, as well as her brush and curling iron. She left the dress hanging in the closet until it was time to drive to the ranch, where she would get dressed for the wedding.

  She also packed a couple outfits in her suitcase and placed her passport in her purse. Miguel had mentioned them going on a honeymoon, but he was so caught up in renovations and the remodel that she doubted he’d want to leave town. Either way, he couldn’t say that she dropped the ball.

  It was nearly ten when she went to the kitchen, where a gorgeous, barefoot Miguel stood at the counter, wearing a pair of worn denim jeans and a black tank shirt. He was pouring what had to be his second or third cup of coffee, since the carafe was nearly empty.

  He turned when she entered, scanned the length of her, then flashed her a dazzling smile. “Good morning. Are you ready for the big day?”