by Kim Karr
Everyone turned to face us and I noticed Wilhelmina and Grayson’s parents and a few other people had joined us.
Tyler raised his glass. “To the future.”
Everyone repeated what he said, even me, because that toast wasn’t so bad but then I realized he hadn’t taken a sip yet. That he wasn’t finished.
“And to Paris,” he cheered. “May she see that although I don’t always react the way I should, or play by the rules, that doesn’t mean I can’t be a good husband.”
Grayson clinked his own glass. “To being good husbands, even when we’re in the doghouse.”
“Cheers,” the crowd toasted.
I smiled a little then and felt him creeping even further into my heart, into my spirit.
God, I hoped I was doing the right thing.
“Let’s party,” Tyler said, and grabbed my hand. We circled the room and he flirted with me. It was fun. Eventually I excused myself to go to the ladies room.
When I returned to the party, I roamed around talking to the guests like this was real, and I found myself believing it was. Like it wasn’t all for a temporary marriage to a man who I doubted could stay married.
I was talking to Tabitha about the new house she and Grayson were building and their new baby, when I got the strangest feeling. They seemed truly happy. And I wondered if that’s what I wanted out of life?
To be happily married?
Be a wife.
A mother.
Have a baby?
Own a house?
Have a home.
All things I hadn’t thought about in a very long time. I shoved my confusion aside and focused on the conversation. “How old is your baby?” I asked.
Tabitha smiled. “Emerson was three months yesterday, and can you believe she still wakes up every three hours?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Wow, that must be exhausting.”
The sigh she gave me conveyed that it was. “How did you know?”
“I just assumed.”
“Well, you’re right. And since I’m not working, I usually get up with her. I pump, though,” she raised her glass, “like tonight will be a pump and dump night,” she lowered her glass, “so sometimes Grayson does the feeding for me.”
Ouch! My mind was still on the word pump and I tried not to shiver at the very idea. “That has to help.” I smiled, seriously not having any clue about any of it.
Tabitha leaned forward conspiratorially and cupped the side of her mouth with the hand not holding her champagne. “Well, not so much because when he does, he usually wakes me up after he’s done for sex.”
I grinned. “Such a man thing.”
She waved her hand and laughed. “Right?”
Grayson was standing beside her talking to someone else, but he must have heard her because he coughed, and then choked on a laugh. “Tabitha, you’re not supposed to kiss and tell.”
Getting on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the lips. “But it’s so fun.”
“We can stop the feeding and benefits thing anytime.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“Good, because I know you do,” he smirked, pulling his wife against his body. He was a good-looking man and his hair really worked for him. It just went with the pinstripe suit and swagger he had going on.
Tabitha started to blush at her husband as he put his hands over hers, and it was cute.
They continued to discuss the merits of sex after baby feeding, but my attention was on the man who looked like sex on a stick.
Talk about swagger.
And talk about a suit.
The air in the room seemed to thicken as my soon-to-be husband started to approach me. His hands were stuffed into his pockets but his shoulders were still wide and strong.
The closer he got, the quicker my pulse zoomed around my body looking for a proper home. Eyelids, throat, chest, ankles, even. It didn’t matter. I could practically feel the energy crackle around me the minute he stopped in front of me and gave me that million dollar grin. He tipped his head at Tabitha and I, “Ladies,” and then clapped Grayson on the shoulder with an, “Asswipe.”
Grayson released his hold on his wife and gave Tyler two palms in surrender. “Hey, man, chill. I got a little upset about the Tesla, but I’m over it now.”
Tyler shook his head and his hair moved with him. “That’s because I had it cleaned and it looks like fucking new again, like I told you it would.”
I was guessing Grayson was out of the car loaning business for a while, and I’d stupidly returned Tyler’s keys to him, which meant I once again, had no vehicle.
Tyler leaned toward me and whispered, “I’m going to assume asking to borrow the Tesla again is a no go.”
Glancing at his handsome features, I nodded in agreement. “I have to say I agree. No worries, I’ll figure something out.”
His mouth was back at my ear. “I’d be happy to give you a ride every day, but since we’ll be sleeping in different locations, it could be a bit difficult.”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I got up on my toes, playing along. “I said separate bedrooms. Not separate houses. I’m expecting you to move in with me tonight. We have repairs to make and some rooms to clean out.”
He shook his head. “Not what I had in mind for our wedding night, Love.”
I shrugged. “Marital responsibilities can suck. It’s probably best you learn that now.”
The comeback I was expecting never came because just then the song changed and, “Dreams,” by Fleetwood Mac began to play.
This song. Him. It was a lot to process. Tyler didn’t let me get in my own head though because he snagged my wrist and tugged me to him. “Dance with me.”
My heart softened a little more, but I knew better than to let him in too far, so I gave him a nod and reminded myself that this was temporary. We were temporary. This was business.
It didn’t feel like business, though when I was pressed up against him. We weren’t naked but we might as well have been by the way our bodies reacted to each other. His hands anchored my hips and we moved slowly to the beat of the music, to the rhythm of the song I once thought I’d live my life by.
Was I a bird in flight?
I wanted to think I was.
His feet moved and he guided me with perfection as we glided around the floor, and his friends, or maybe now they were our friends, all watched with an awed look on their faces.
“You’re a good dancer,” I said.
“I know.”
I laughed and swatted him.
“Harder,” he growled in my ear.
I shook my head and then rested it on his shoulder.
We stayed on the dance floor until the sun started to set and then the eight of us went outside to watch as the giant yellow ball faded into the orange and purple horizon.
It was beautiful.
Romantic even.
But Tyler Holiday didn’t do romance, I reminded myself . . . he just did destruction.
That I knew all too well.
Paris
IT WAS THE final stop of our whirlwind engagement on our road to a temporary marriage.
The San Francisco Court House. Somehow Christian had pulled his political strings and arranged for us to have the late ceremony.
The building was beautiful, all lit up with its gold peaks and grandeur. I almost felt like Cinderella going to a ball.
“Tyler.” I stopped him opening the door.
“Yeah?”
“Tell me this isn’t a mistake.”
“It isn’t, Paris. Mistakes are accidents. This is intentional. Something we want,” he told me and then stepped out of the Mercedes, buttoning his coat like a movie star at an awards show.
Or maybe like Prince Charming.
He smoothed the lines of his tailored suit and smiled down at me as I slid across the seat. The suit was designer and fit his body to perfection. Then again, everything fit him to perfection. He was tall, six-two, broad-shouldered, and
visibly fit with a smile that made every girl in the room want to drop to her knees.
With his strong profile, sharp cheekbones and beautiful brown hair, he commanded attention everywhere he went, and right now he was commanding mine.
He held out his hand for me to take and when I did, I had to swallow past the lump of emotion that had formed in my throat. In a matter of minutes, he was going to be my husband.
My.
Husband.
Mine.
Temporary or not.
Still mine for a little while.
San Francisco’s high-society pages were waiting, and they took snapshots of us as we strode up the stairs toward the big double doors.
In truth, they were there for the gossip. The fact that a mere six hours ago, I was set to wed Henri LeBlanc. The Henri LeBlanc of France. Billionaire heir with a secret. Tyler shielded me from them by putting his arm around me. I felt safe in that moment.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Promise me one thing—not to leave this marriage, or me, without talking to me, first.”
I looked up in complete seriousness and responded with, “Only if you promise not to hurt me.”
He nodded.
I nodded.
A vow that very well could break us both.
As soon as we stepped onto the marble floor, he took my hand. “This way.”
The rest of ‘the wedding party’ went left, and he was leading me to the right. I eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not fucking you in the coat closet.”
He laughed and growled. “Damn.”
And I laughed at that.
Up the beautiful staircase and down a narrow hallway there was a bride’s room.
This place really was spectacular and the polar opposite of the St. Helena Court House in every way.
Without even knocking, he pushed open the door. Thank God it was empty. And it didn’t get past me that he locked it once we were both inside.
It also didn’t get by me that my heart was pounding so wildly it felt like it was about to take flight.
On the marble counter was another bag. Bigger than the last. “What’s that?”
He sank into a chair near the makeup counter and angled one leg over the other in a casual pose. It was as if he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
I raised a brow. “Waiting to get your shoes shined?”
“Funny.” He jerked his chin to the bag. “Open it,” he said, the tone of his voice making goose bumps rise on my skin.
I stared back at him, eyes wide. “What is it?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Open it and find out.”
There was something about this moment that felt defined before it happened, and I considered walking out the door.
But I couldn’t.
Okay, wouldn’t.
I peeked in the tissue and pulled the hanger from the wrap and gasped. I couldn’t even draw a breath. I was light-headed from the champagne and awed by what was in front of me.
I stuttered over my words as I stared at the ivory-colored simple dress made of satin that fell just below the knee. It was a seventies slip dress and totally me. “It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s beautiful,” I awed.
The chagrin on his face really was priceless. “Knew you’d like it. Saw it at the vintage store the other day when you were trying on the gold dress and had the sales girl stow it away.”
I held it up to me. Whirling around in it like a giddy girl. My stomach flip-flopped when I looked in the mirror.
The dress was definitely wow worthy.
“Goldie Hawn wore it to the Academy Awards or that’s what the sales girl told me.”
I blinked, my heart fluttering and my fingers itching to try it on. “I love it. It’s perfect,” I exclaimed.
One half of his mouth turned up. “Put it on.”
I could have gone into one of the bathroom stalls and closed the door, but I didn’t. Instead, I slowly pulled down the straps of my gold dress and let it fall before bending to pick it up.
Tyler’s pupils flared with a raw hunger that ignited his features in the most primal way. “I hope you’ll do that again for me when we get back to your place.”
A shiver worked up my spine. “Refer to the contract, please,” I said as I stepped into the beautiful dress.
“You mean, #25. Husband and wife shall maintain separate sleeping quarters?” he asked huskily.
Slowly, I pulled the dress up my body. “That’s the one.”
His gaze was liquid fire. “My dear wife-to-be, separate sleeping quarters has nothing to do with sex. We could fuck right here, right now. Just say the word.”
The air around us swirled electric, and the tension grew even thicker. “Tyler,” I breathed and then stopped, biting my lip like that Jane Whitmore schoolgirl all over again.
His blue eyes searched mine. They were so intense that I started to worry what he thought he saw, and I had to look away. Whatever it was, he said nothing about it and got to his feet, instead. Then he extended his hand. “Come on, let’s get married.”
With my nipples hard as steel peaks, they were pressing against the satin material of my new dress, and protruding in a very obvious fashion. I was seriously considering telling him to just take me right here so we could breathe.
This time I reached for him. “Why did you do all this?”
The shrug he gave me wasn’t filled with dirty charm or indifference. It was more genuine—warmhearted and truly uncertain. “I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I guess I wanted to make your wedding day perfect.”
I gave him a small, shy smile. “Well, you have.”
Something in my chained-up heart was changing, the hatred and anger fading more every day, no—every minute, I spent with him. It was like he had the key and was slowly unlocking it, freeing that beating organ I’d jailed long ago.
I trotted beside him to the ceremony room, and at exactly seven fifty-five we said, “I do.”
At that moment, a mellowness had fallen over me, and when I looked up at him, I actually thought things could go beyond temporary. That they might just work out.
That he had changed.
Lifting on my toes, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thank you for this day. I feel like a princess.”
He bent and softly kissed my lips. “Good. Remember that tomorrow when we’re going round-for-round at the office.”
My words, yes, but it wasn’t until then that I realized just how true they were going to be. That it was him versus me. Highway 128 or California Jane for the win.
And just like that, I was Cinderella at the stroke of midnight . . .
Or maybe I was Beauty and he was the Beast.
Paris
IT WAS SAFE to say the merger and marriage contract had gone into full effect.
Case in point, I didn’t have sex with Tyler on our wedding night.
Too bad it wasn’t because I was immune to his rakish, devilish charm. Rather, I had passed out in the car on the way back to St. Helena, and never woke.
Somehow he had carried me inside and tucked me into my bed, and when I woke, surprisingly enough, I was still wearing my wedding dress.
A quick glance out the window told me it was past dawn. Days of worry and confusion had obviously sunk deep into my bones and allowed for exhaustion to set in.
Not wanting to get out of bed, I flipped around and tucked my hands under the side of my head. That’s when I spied a neatly folded piece of paper on the pillow Tyler would have laid his head on . . . if separate sleeping quarters hadn’t been worked into the contract.
A note.
Interesting.
Filled with curiosity, I plucked it from where it sat and read it.
Paris,
Good morning bride.
You can take the Rover to the Highway 128 office. I’ll meet you there. Wilhelmina is picking me up. We have a few production line issues to discuss and then I’ll head over. We have a lot to do today, so be ready.
> P.S. I’m crossing the line willingly.
P.S.S. Don’t be late.
P.S.S.S. We have a honeymoon to discuss.
Ty. x
Ty. x
I sighed. Not exactly waxing poetic, but still I couldn’t help but see it as prose.
Ty. x
Ty. x
Ty. x
X as in love or kisses or something different? I didn’t know. Was it too intimate? Too much like the past? After all, it was the first time he’d acknowledged our old intimacy in any positive way.
But what we once shared was in the past.
And it needed to say there.
There was no rewind.
We were business partners. This was day one in the ring, and I had to fight for the survival of Highway 128.
Folding the paper, I tucked it under my pillow and stretched. Then I glanced at the clock across the room. Crap, it was already past nine. I had to hurry. There really was a lot to do at the office today.
Dressing quickly, I hopped in the Rover. It was nearly ten by the time I got on the road, but with all things considered, I thought that was pretty damn good timing.
And that was the only good part of my day.
The Fairchild house was located on the top of the mountain. From the porch, I glanced around the estate. Endless hills and valleys gave away no secrets of what the day would bring.
The drive down Knights Valley was bumpy and the path only got worse when I turned toward Bale Lane. The harsh rain from days ago had done a bit of damage to the dirt roads and they’d have to be repaired.
Taking the vineyards was the most direct route to the office, though, so I didn’t turn around. The Highway 128 estate was one-hundred and five acres of property, and the majority of it was vineyard after vineyard.
Bale Lane was located mid-valley and like all the vineyards on the estate, it was dormant, as well as sedentary at the moment.
Or it had been.
As soon as I drove around the peak, I saw people and equipment everywhere. I was halfway down the hill when I came to a screeching halt.
What the hell!
There were trucks on the side of the road and people were unloading bundles of wood. At a loss for what was going on, I hurried the rest of the way, and then stopped, quickly shifting into park.