Just Married (More than Friends) (3 page)

Miranda gasped, her hazel eyes sparking with emotion. Her gaze narrowed on him and she shook her head, dislodging his fingers. Her furious expression sobered his smile. He’d never seen Mira angry, not at him at least.

“Listen, doll.” He reached for her and she batted his arm away with one hand, and her other landed squarely on his cheek with a loud slap. The sharp sting was chased away by heat spreading up his face. He pressed his palm against the pain, his mind numb from shock.

“No, you listen, you spoiled son of a bitch. I could strangle you right now.” Her finger jabbed at his chest so hard he looked down to see if it had left a mark. “You don’t get to call me and say you’re getting married in a day, make me show up and try to talk you out of it, and then say it’s some kind of joke. If you want to vacation with your friends, you invite them. And don’t talk to me about marriage. I am not a game you play. I deserve more respect than that.”

She shoved him aside with more strength than he’d thought possible and pushed her way out of the shower. She snagged the robe from a hook and wrapped her hair in a towel at Mach speed.

Fear squeezed his chest. Of all the ways he thought this might go, he’d never imagined her outraged. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist as he chased after her.

“It’s white.” She stood in front of the closet, clutching the bridesmaid gown. She tossed it onto the huge bed and pointed at the flowers on the bedside table. “And those are bouquets. That’s why they are tied and set in the water, not fanned out.” She smacked her hand against her forehead. “And this is the honeymoon suite. I thought the hotel had made a mistake, but this is all you. All some cruel game you dreamed up to bring everyone together.”

“Listen. I can explain.” He stepped to the foot of the bed, but didn’t get too close to her. He’d never seen this side of Miranda, and it unnerved him. He’d thought he knew her so well.

She tipped her head back and gave the saddest laugh he’d ever heard. “Of course you can. You’ll have to make your excuses while I get ready, because I am so out of here.” She brushed past him to the vanity.

“Miranda, please hear me out.” His stomach knotted as he turned to catch her gaze in the mirror. He had until she made it from hairbrush to perfume. Less than that really, because she was sure to drown him out with the blow-dryer.

“What did you expect?” She tugged the brush through her hair and then tossed it onto the marble countertop. She picked up a tube and squeezed a white cream on her hand and scrubbed it into her flushed face. “Was I supposed to throw my arms around you and confess my undying love and follow you back to New York tomorrow? Drop everything the way I did when your father died? I have a life, Cal.”

“I don’t expect anything in your life to change. Mine either.”

She spun around so fast he stood up straighter, sure another slap was on her agenda. “You want to get married but you don’t want anything to change. Now you’re not only disrespecting me, you’re disrespecting marriage. A union I happen to believe in.”

He held up his hands in surrender. He had to stop digging this hole he’d tossed himself into. “I’m going to start at the beginning.”

She groaned and turned back to the mirror, tossing each tube and jar into her makeup bag after she used them. Not good.

“I’m turning thirty-five tomorrow.”

“If you are looking for a happy birthday from me, you can forget it. I’m not buying you pizza either. You hijacked my thirtieth birthday with all this ‘I’m getting married’ garbage.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her use of air quotes. It never got old. “There are stipulations in the family trust.”

She cast him a glare through the mirror, a pot of golden powder in one hand and a tiny brush in the other. “Are you kidding me? I asked if you needed help: wills and trusts are what I do, Cal. You told me it didn’t matter because you wanted to release the Kerr estate to Dirk.”

“That was my plan, until my bloody cousin got greedy. I need the Callum department stores, and I want Kentigern Castle.” She stopped swiping the shimmering powder across her lids long enough to roll her eyes.

Miranda thought his pipe dream of renovating the ruined castle bordered on the insane, but she’d never once tried to talk him out of it the way so many others had. Maybe if he took her there, she’d see the amazing potential in the place, understand why the castle deserved more than what the last hundred years of Kerrs had done for it.

“Dirk knew I’d sunk all my liquid capital into the renovations at Kentigern, so he knows I’m not in a position to negotiate.” He pushed a hand through his short hair, nearly dry now. “But the department stores do not belong to the Kerrs. They’re my mother’s. She earned them, and my father should have given them back to her thirty-five years ago.”

A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Your father owned Callum’s? It’s the oldest department store chain still in operation. That goes back further than your parents.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “When my maternal grandparents died, it was in trouble. My mother saved it the only way she knew how. My father gave her an influx of cash, she gave him an heir. He probably never gave Callum’s back to her because he thought she’d leave him when he did. I hope he meant to do the right thing eventually; he just didn’t plan on dying.”

“And I presume there is a marriage clause in this archaic family trust?”

He nodded. “In order to guarantee a line of succession. It makes sense not to let a playboy inherit everything and squander it. Which is what Dirk plans to do. And because he has a son, there is nothing anyone can do to stop him from liquidating everything.”

She clenched her jaw and pushed her straight brown hair behind her ears. “I suppose that’s what our condom-free adventure in the shower was all about, then. You need an heir and why not knock me up?” She snatched her birth control pills and shook them for effect before chucking them in her bag. “I’m on the pill, remember? We talked about it last month when I was in New York for the funeral and you kept ‘forgetting.’”

Again with the air quotes. His cheeks lifted, but he schooled his expression. He would never have lived through that horrific week after his father passed if not for Miranda. She’d kept him sane, kept him from spiraling into dark places. He’d thought getting married might repay her for that somehow, but apparently she hadn’t even considered it. “I don’t think either of us have children on our to-do list. If Dirk wants any part of the Kerr estate, he’ll have to get it from Eamon. His son can take it over once I’m gone.”

“Then why didn’t you just remove Callum’s and Kentigern from the trust and let Dirk have it all tomorrow?”

“It hasn’t cleared probate.” Not to mention he couldn’t change any of the terms of the trust without a male heir. But none of the technicalities mattered if he couldn’t persuade Mira to help him save his mother’s legacy.

“Damn it, Cal. I could have fixed this.” Her eyes blazed with amber fire. He hoped it was makeup magic and not her ire burning hotter.

“You still can.”

“Oh, no. I came here to ‘convince’ you not to make a huge mistake. Now, you’re asking me to make it with you. We’ll find a nice, rational way out of this.”

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “In seven hours, on a Friday?”

She stomped her foot and turned to face him, mascara wand in hand. “Why didn’t you tell me about this mess sooner?”

“Because Dirk only went rogue on me three days ago. I had it worked out, and then he changed the rules.”

She pursed her lips and picked up the hair dryer, flicking it on and drowning him out. Fine, he needed to think anyway. He picked up his clothes from the floor, brainstorming ways to get her to agree. If he couldn’t, he’d be saddled with buying a bride.

His blood chilled and he shivered. He didn’t have a backup plan, and losing his mother’s stores was not an option. There was only one thing he could think to do, and it wasn’t something he had any experience with.

Tears stung her eyes, so she blinked and kept drying her hair until she knew she wouldn’t actually cry. What was wrong with him? Had she really taught him to treat her like this? Like a place card at a dinner party that could be shuffled around as it suited him?

He wanted to marry her, which had sent her flying over the moon for a split second before crash landing her back on earth. He hadn’t even considered her feelings. He’d teased her about marrying someone else, brought her to Las Vegas under false pretenses, and planned on parading her down the aisle with their closest friends watching. She’d grilled them all about who they thought he was marrying on the flight here. Talk about looking like a fool.

When his father died and he’d called, she’d left as soon as she could, and stayed an entire week. There had been hell to pay at work when she got back, but she’d done it because he’d needed her, needed someone to hold him up. He’d spent the week medicating the pain with sex, and maybe somewhere in the middle of it he’d thought it meant she’d become his puppet.

She turned off the dryer and stood up, catching his reflection in the mirror as he buttoned up his black shirt. Her heart squeezed for how confused he looked, but it didn’t make her feel any less manipulated.

“I have to get married, tonight.” His throat undulated as he swallowed.

“Have fun with that.” She stepped to the closet and slid her cinnamon-brown wrap dress from its hanger.

“Mira, please. Everything is set up. A limo picks us up in a few hours to file the forms at the courthouse, then brings us back here for the ceremony.”

“At eight o’clock. I know because I got your agenda in my inbox yesterday like everyone else.” She shrugged the robe to the floor and slipped into the dress, smoothing the cotton knit against her skin before tying it.

“I couldn’t tell you any sooner.”

She turned to face him, wishing that slapping some sense into him earlier had worked. “No, you could have; you didn’t want to. You could have called me as soon as Dirk got greedy.”

“Dirk has no legal obligation to sell me Kentigern or Callum’s. The castle I could deal with, but my name is on the front of every one of those stores. My mother has devoted her life to the brand. I’m not going to let anyone take that from her just because I don’t want a wife.”

“You should have told me. I could have taken care of it.”

“There was no time for you to get up to speed on Scottish inheritance law or the differences between probate in New York and Washington. Had I known he’d pull this, I would have asked for your help. But I didn’t.”

“And why didn’t you tell me about your little marriage plan, hmm?” She laid the sarcasm on thick.

“Because you would have talked me out of it.”

She threw up her hands in complete exasperation. “You don’t want a wife and you knew I’d think this is a bad idea . . . so why are we here?”

He sat down on the large bed, his black clothes contrasting with the white bedding as he rubbed the hem of the gown between his fingers. “I don’t want a wife I have to take care of and I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. I can’t marry a woman who is going to try to create a family life we both know I’d be awful at. I don’t want to disappoint someone like that. And my mother’s list of prospects was filled with women who would try to trap me in that world.”

Mira cleared her throat, hating that his mother had obviously never even thought to consider her. But then, it seemed neither did Cal, not really.

“I don’t need a wife in that sense, just like you don’t have time to play the role. I don’t want to be a husband, just married.”

She shook her head and reached for her sandals. She joined him on the bed as she slipped them on. “Why in the world would you think that I would want to do this?”

“Because our separate lives will stay exactly the same. We’re both too invested in our careers to let that slide. But, long weekends and vacations, holidays and parties, we get together. And because I asked you to.”

“Actually, you never did. You assumed I would leap at the chance.”

“Do you really want to do someone’s laundry, pay their bills, and cook their meals? Remember to get their mother a birthday present? Give up sleeping in the middle of the bed?”

The last one made her cheek twitch in an almost grin. “You have a sitcom view of marriage.”

“I want us to write the rules of our own marriage, update it to suit us. Wouldn’t it be nice to get together whether we have an excuse to get together or not? Maybe go on a vacation?”

She turned to look at him, taking in the serious expression in his light brown eyes. “You haven’t taken a vacation since law school.”

“Neither have you.”

She shrugged; he had her there. “We can do that without getting married. Marriage means something to me.”

“Like what? Tell me, and we’ll work it out.”

“First of all, marriage is not a contract negotiation.” She rose from the bed and walked to the vanity to spritz on her perfume. “It’s commitment and fidelity and partnership.” And love, but she didn’t dare say it.

“Doll, you’re overthinking this. We’ve been friends for nearly a decade, that’s commitment. And last month we both admitted we haven’t been with anyone else in a long while. That’s fidelity. And without you at the funeral I would have been an angry mess. If that isn’t partnership, I don’t know what is. And we have something you forgot to mention.” He stood and crossed the room toward her. “Passion.”

Heat crept up her chest, throat, cheeks. She turned around and held up her hand. “Hold it right there. A partner would have clued me in to this plan, not ambushed me with it. Would have trusted me enough to share what was going on, and respected me enough to give me a chance to make a decision.”

He shook his head and shrugged. “I’m sorry I went about this the wrong way. I was thinking it would make a great story, that without too much time to think it would be easier for you to say yes. You’re the smartest person I know, and I’m trusting you to know your own mind. Do you want to marry me?”

She should have flat-out lied. Cal didn’t need to know that she liked the idea of being married to him; his ego might explode and she’d be a widow before she’d been a bride. Instead, she’d told him she’d decide by the time they had to catch the limo to the courthouse.

Let him live in the world of uncertain futures for a moment; she had a date with the other unsuspecting wedding guests at the spa. It was on the detailed wedding itinerary he’d emailed all of them, so it wasn’t like he’d be too panicked about where she was while he played poker with the guys. Not that she should care so much about his feelings when he didn’t seem bothered to think of hers.

Miranda lifted a bottle of nail polish from the rack and nearly dropped it as she read the name for the pale pink color.
JUST MARRIED.
For goodness’ sake.

“I like that for fingers.” Tina sidled next to her, holding a deep plum and bright tangerine. They got pedicures together all the time at home in Seattle since they both were big believers in toe color. “How about Mandarin Mayhem for your toes?”

“I think I’m going to step outside my comfort zone and go neutral.” She reached for a taupe shade and almost groaned.
HONEYMOON.

Helen laughed so loud half the heads in the tranquil spa turned. “You always have wild toes. Look.” Helen kicked her foot in the spa-provided flip-flops. “Zebra stripes.”

A very pregnant Molly waddled over to them. “I’m not getting crazy toes if you’re not. The last time Anna picked the jeweled flower off and put it in her mouth. I panicked.”

Miranda slipped an arm around her friend. “No Anna this weekend, so no worries.” She looked at the other women in their matching terrycloth robes and smiled. She’d known Molly since college, Tina and Helen since law school, and Kristin completed the mix when Sean married her last year. After her parents’ death in her teens, Mira had longed to have a family again. Now, she did, just not in the traditional sense.

Who needed a conventional marriage when you could define marriage the way you did family? On your own terms. Maybe Cal had a point.

Helen held up two sparkling shades. “At least go for some glitter. How will we recognize your toes if they are boring?”

She took the shimmering beige shade.
CHAMPAGNE TOAST.
Of course. She set the other polishes back in the rack, deciding on the pale pink. “Sometimes the biggest rebellion is doing the most traditional of things.”

“Tell Cal that. I can’t believe he’s getting married.” Tina tucked her short hair behind her ears, the pixie cut highlighting her big, green eyes. “I hope the guys can talk him out of it. That’s Dave’s strategy.”

Helen nodded. “Bert too. I’m as taken by whirlwind romances as the next girl, but this whole thing seems off.”

“Rob says he has a plan.” Molly waved her hand at the hostess to let her know they were ready.

Tina smirked. “To kidnap Cal? Dave considered it, but we decided against any punishable crime now that Bert is a councilman. Damned politicians.”

Guilt gnawed at her stomach. She should tell her friends they didn’t need to worry about anyone taking advantage of Cal. But that would mean she’d made her decision, and she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she had. They’d sense that and talk her out of it, and Cal was just determined enough to create a nightmare by marrying a random woman instead. She pushed a hand into her hair, scratching her nails against her scalp.

“Mira, it’s going to be okay.” Helen rubbed her arm. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”

She straightened, spooked by the comment. She and Cal had been discreet to the point of ridiculous. Even sitting beside him at the funeral hadn’t raised a single eyebrow among their friends. They didn’t know, did they?

Tina tightened the belt on her robe. “Cal’s timing stinks on ice. Don’t think we’ve gone all
Sixteen Candles
and forgotten your thirtieth. We’ll do your birthday up right when we get back to Seattle.”

“Men never think,” Helen said. “That’s why they get married, to have someone do the thinking for them.”

They all laughed as the hostess led them to the massage chairs circling a fish tank. Mira reclined in her chair and slipped her feet into the bubbling warm water. The spa smelled like the ocean, only cleaner.

“You know what I think?” Tina asked.

Mira leaned forward, desperate for insight. After a few frustrating years at the DA’s office, Tina had become a jury profiler. Her observations always came with some perceptive insight everyone else missed.

“Cal is confronting his own mortality after the death of his father. Mark my words, he’ll have a baby in under a year.” She shared a grin with Molly. “Something to make him feel connected to the future again. This woman will be more maternal than we’d ever imagined for him. Maybe someone like his mother.”

Except Cal’s mother was anything but maternal. Mira leaned back in her seat, not wanting to share how much she knew about the tenuous relationship between mother and son.

Bridie had been married to Hamish Kerr for thirty-five years, yet in the week after his death she didn’t try to comfort their only child. Instead she’d wanted to talk business. It had been almost as hard to watch as when Cal had to make the funeral arrangements alone. Mira had made most of the decisions herself, as he’d sat in numb silence.

No wonder Cal sought out a marriage of convenience; he was the product of one. A family tradition she’d be supporting if she agreed to marry him. But what choice did she have? Let him marry someone else? Or be the reason he lost the thing that meant the most to him?

Cal stood beside the black limousine, the insidious Nevada heat swirling through the exhaust-filled air in the covered area at the entrance to the hotel. The driver stood at attention as shuttle buses and taxis moved through. He checked the obsidian face of his watch for the third time and his stomach sank.

Mira was never late. She’d jilted him, leaving him standing beside the limo for any of their friends to find if they happened to step outside. Thank goodness for the heat.

He’d managed to evade the guys by distracting them with a poker lesson from a pro. Until he knew Miranda would come through, he didn’t want to see or talk to anyone who might remind him of the absurdity of his predicament.

Time alone in a honeymoon suite that smelled like roses only served to dampen his mood. If Miranda refused, his mother would lose the company she’d sold her soul to save. And it would be his fault for not forcing the issue with his father, and for trusting Dirk to do the right thing.

Strangers poured out of the revolving doors of the hotel, but he only registered them as not Mira. He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted her a single word.

Please.

“Mr. Kerr?”

Cal blinked, turning toward the female voice. He had no idea how long Tonya, the wedding concierge, had been standing there. He’d only met the woman this morning when he checked in, but he’d spent the better part of his week on the phone with her because she kept wanting input on wedding details he couldn’t care less about.

“Are all the plans to your liking?” She stared up at him like a deer in headlights.

He nodded and forced a smile. He hated when people were afraid of him. Fear had been his father’s motivator of choice; Cal preferred to stick with recognition and cash.

“Everything met with your satisfaction so far? The room, the bouquets?” She clasped her hands in front of her, her fingers toying with the slim belt of her gray dress.

“It’s fine.” And a waste of time unless Mira came out of those doors in the next two minutes.

“Did Miss Rose have any requests? There’s not a lot we can change at this point, but I’m sure I can tweak things to make her happy.”

Good luck with that one. His stomach soured as he wondered if he was crass enough to hire someone if Mira refused him. His mouth had gone dry as the Nevada air.

“Can I ask you something?” He looked at Tonya, the sheet of dark hair, the prim outfit, the patient smile. Damn, even she reminded him of Mira. “Are you married?”

She blushed and shook her head, a grin playing on her lips. He smiled back, knowing he’d never marry anyone but Mira. He couldn’t risk losing her, and he knew she was serious about ending things if he did. It felt ridiculous, like a scene from one of the romantic comedies Mira usually had playing in her hotel room whenever he’d knock on her door after some event they’d both attended.

Asking Mira for a favor was one thing; dragging a stranger into his family drama for only long enough to write them a check was . . . nauseating. He’d lose respect for himself, not to mention the way Mira and the rest of his friends would look at him knowing what he’d done.

“Are we still on?” Mira’s voice lifted him like a marionette’s strings, bringing him to attention. Relief soothed the end of his frayed nerves and he pulled in a deep breath through his nose, her sweet rose scent finding him through the heat. He ignored the serious expression she wore, only caring that she’d taken the first step. He could talk her into anything from here.

“Ready, willing, and waiting.” He placed one arm around her shoulders and pulled her up next to him. He didn’t intend to let her out of arm’s reach until the marriage was legal.

“Miss Rose.” The smaller woman thrust out her hand, reminding Cal that she existed at all. “I’m Tonya. I helped Mr. Kerr arrange everything for the wedding.”

Miranda shook her hand and smiled. “I figured he had some help. Details are not Callum’s strong suit.”

Tonya lifted her shoulders and beamed. “You really were surprised then?”

“Shocked. Thank you for humoring him on this. I can’t imagine he’s been easy to work with.” She shifted her attaché to her other hand and not-so-gently nudged him in the ribs. He didn’t budge.

“Oh, he’s been great. Very direct about what he wants.”

“Isn’t he just.” The smile she gave him could have frozen boiling water.

He motioned for the chauffeur, who opened the door and ushered them in side. Tonya gave a little wave as the door shut, sealing them in for the ride to the courthouse. The driver must have read the mood, because as soon as he got in the limo he closed the partition.

“We need to get crystal on a couple points.” Miranda moved to the seat that ran the length of the limousine, leaving Cal on the bench along the back. She needed to see his expression, but not be distracted by touching him. What they were about to do was serious, and he was treating it like a fraternity prank.

“Thank you, doll. I know you’d never let me down, but I’ll admit you had me wondering if you were going to show.” He reached forward, plucking an open bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and two flutes from the notched shelf.

“I’ve changed my mind three times today, so go ahead and worry.” She reached into her attaché and removed her tablet, loading up the agreement she’d spent the last hour working on.

“Mira, listen, I know you’re upset about how I sprang this on you.”

She raised her hand to stop him. “I listened to you earlier. Now it’s your turn.”

He offered her a glass of champagne, but she shook her head, leaving him holding both glasses.

“I’m willing to try your version of marriage.”

His warm brown eyes lit up as he grinned. “This is going to be great, I promise.”

She held up her hand again. “I’m not done talking and the courthouse is only a few minutes away. I’m not getting a marriage license until you’ve signed this.” She held out the tablet.

His expression darkened as he cast his gaze from her to the device and back. He set the champagne glasses back in their notches on the shelf. “What is it?”

“An abbreviated prenuptial agreement. We don’t have the time for anything detailed.” She offered it to him again.

“Tell me what you’ve drawn up. Like you said, we only have a few minutes.”

She sighed, wishing he would just read the darned thing. Having to spell it out for him was just so embarrassing. “It states that all assets pertaining to a trust remain with the trust in the event of a divorce. Personal assets prior to the marriage are not divisible if the marriage is dissolved.”

“That’s generous of you. But you don’t have to bother. The only reason we’d need to go separate directions is if you decide you need to have kids.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest. “Because you don’t want children.” Not that she could give him any. She’d mentioned her endometriosis to him in the context of Tina’s fertility concerns. But maybe he saw her issues as another qualifying trait in his modern marriage.

“Do you have room in your life for a child? I don’t. Like you pointed out the other day, I barely know my godchildren.”

She opened her mouth to remind him it didn’t matter because her body had started to betray her in her teens. She’d suffered through two procedures, but now the only option to alleviate her symptoms were the birth control pills that kept her from cycling or a hysterectomy. She’d come to terms with it, but not enough to do something so permanent. Besides, if he didn’t want children, did she need to remind him? Especially when they had so little time and so much to discuss.

Cal handed her a flute of champagne. “Relax. We won’t be getting divorced. This is going to work out beautifully.”

She took a sip, the bubbles tickling her mouth. If only they were as open with their feelings as they could be about business. “There is a fidelity clause that in the event of an affair you relinquish all rights to the Callum department stores and Kentigern Castle.”

He gave a low whistle. “I won’t cheat on you. You don’t have to threaten me.”

“I’m simply ensuring that if you hurt me, you’ll feel it too.”

“And knowing that I’d put the only two things I own that matter to me on the line will make this easier for you?”

She nodded, releasing the breath she hadn’t known she held.

“What do I get?”

She blinked unsure of his meaning.

“Surely you don’t expect me to sign on for something so lopsided.”

“I’m not the one who’s been with scores of women.”

“That would certainly change our dynamic.” His lips twitched in a grin. “You want me to sign it, you have to be in for as much as me.”