Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride (4 page)

“It is when you're trying to talk me into bed.”

He hesitated and then shrugged. “I don't know.”

“You didn't count or you can't count that high?”

His chin jutted forward. “How many men have you slept with?”

Her shameful past crept over her. She'd wasted her youth looking for ways to flout her father's iron-fist authority, and she wasn't proud of that. She'd been a rebel, but she'd reformed. She'd practically become a nun. “Hey, if you don't have to answer then neither do I.”

“What am I supposed to do for…relief?”

A slideshow flashed in her mind of ten different ways she could give him sexual relief, but she shut it down. The heat flushing her skin wasn't as easy to vanquish. “That depends on whether you're right-or left-handed.”

“And you?”

Her cheeks ignited. “I can take care of myself.”

His jaw muscles bunched as if he were gritting his teeth. He paced to the window, paused and then turned. “Fine. I accept your terms. Do you have a passport?”

For a moment she was too stunned to speak. “Yes. Why?”

“I'll have Brandon make the arrangements. He and Cassie can set up a quick, quiet Bahamas wedding. Does that suit you? Or do you need a circus?”

Cassie…it took a moment for Lauryn to place the name. Cassie Sinclair had been John Garrison's secret lovechild from an extramarital affair. Or so the papers reported. Even though Lauryn had never met the woman, she felt a kinship with her. Another outsider. But at least Cassie had known who her parents were. Cassie currently owned and managed the Garrison Grand-Bahamas and had recently hooked up with Brandon Washington, Adam's attorney—if the club's scuttlebutt was to be believed.

“I don't want a big wedding. But why the Bahamas?”

“If we get married in Miami my family would expect to be invited and there's a good chance there would be a media blitz.”

Avoiding both the media and the Garrison family appealed. “Something quiet in the Bahamas is fine. I've never been there.”

“We'll stay a few days and call it a honeymoon.”

Honeymoon?
“I won't change my mind about the sex.”

“Lauryn, it's imperative we act like a couple who's fallen in love and eloped. If this marriage doesn't look real it'll do me no good. We'll have a honeymoon.”

“The business council nomination is that important to you?”

Again he hesitated. “It's what the nomination represents that's important.”

“And that is?”

“Personal.” He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now we have time to swing by the club and pick up the agreements.”

Personal.

Secrets weren't the best way to start a marriage—temporary or otherwise. But she'd let him get away with this one because she had a few of her own.

Some things were too shameful to share.

“You didn't have to drive me home,” Lauryn said as Adam turned his BMW into her apartment complex.

“I told you I'm not letting you take the bus at this time of night.”

“I always use the bus.”

“Not anymore. My fiancée would never use public transportation.”

Fiancée. She gulped down her rising panic. Her last marriage had been a horrific mistake. Would this one be better or worse since love wasn't involved?

“Your fiancée can't afford valet parking or dollar-an-hour parking meters.”

“With the money you're about to receive that's going to change.”

As bad luck would have it, one of the few visitors' parking spaces opened up as he turned into the lot. He pulled between the white lines, killed the engine and unlocked the doors.

She needed to get away from Adam, needed to rethink this crazy scheme and make sure there wasn't another way to accomplish her goal.

Admit it. There is no other way. You've pursued every other avenue. This is your best chance to uncover the truth.

Clutching her purse and the file containing the prenuptial agreement and marriage contract, she sprang from the car before he could circle to her side. “You don't need to walk me to the door. The area is well-lit and safe.”

He grasped her elbow in a warm, firm grip. Even though he'd touched her dozens of times tonight her breath still caught on contact. “Which way to the elevators?”

He obviously planned to ignore what she'd said.

“There are no elevators. I'm on the third floor.”

He swept his free hand toward the stairwell.

Reluctantly, Lauryn led the way, but even with her “leading” he was right beside her, matching his steps to hers. She didn't want him in her apartment. Not that there was anything wrong with the tiny, tidy space, but after seeing the luxury to which he was accustomed, her place felt dinky and inadequate. The Art Deco building had been renovated, but with white-collar instead of wealthy tenants in mind.

She hiked the stairs with him by her side, unlocked the door and entered. A quick glance revealed she hadn't left anything lying around that she didn't want him to see—like the thick folder she'd compiled on her mother. Or the thinner one on Adam and his business clearly marked with his name on the tab.

She faced him with the marriage file clutched to her chest. “I'm in. Safe and sound. Thanks for taking me to the Ainsleys' tonight and for showing me your house.”

He stepped forward, forcing her to shuffle hastily out of the way. With his eyes sweeping her space, the tiny kitchenette to the left, the sitting room in front of him, the doors leading to the small bedroom and minuscule bathroom, he shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair.

“What are you doing?”

“Making myself comfortable.”

“You don't have to stay. I'll look these over and bring them to work with me in the morning.” She remained by the open door, hoping he'd take the hint, get his coat and leave.

Instead, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up one shirt-sleeve and then the other, revealing hair-dusted forearms. “I'll go over the documents with you.”

“No need. If I have questions I'll write them down.”

He prowled toward her, his blue gaze intent and unwavering, and palmed the door shut. “Trying to get rid of me, Lauryn?”

Her mouth dried and her pulse kicked erratically. “I have to get up early.”

“It's only eleven and your boss will cut you some slack.”

“I can't be late. I have to issue a check to the liquor supplier when he delivers first thing tomorrow.”

“The truck comes at ten. You can sleep in. We have a few more details to work out.” He parked his hands on his hips as if expecting an argument.

“Like what?”

“Like how you'll be paid. Brandon has spelled it out in the marriage contract, but I'll recap. You'll receive just over forty-one grand every month. The first payment will be transferred into your account after the wedding ceremony.”

“Why monthly?”

“So you won't skip out before the end of the second year.”

“Once I give my word I don't break it.” Not anymore. “But okay. Monthly is fine.” She wasn't in this for the money anyway.

“I'll open bank and charge accounts for you. Because of the temporary nature of this marriage our money will be kept separate. If you blow your salary before the end of the month you're out of luck. I won't give you a dime more.” When she didn't argue he continued, “And I'm going to hire an assistant for you.”

“Wait a minute. You said I could keep my job, and I've told you, I don't need an assistant.”

“I'll allow you to continue working, but only part-time. If we're inseparable newlyweds you'll be expected to make regular appearances by my side at the club. That means late nights. Your assistant will cover mornings.”

His logic made sense. She reluctantly conceded by inclining her head. “What else?”

“A certain amount of PDAs will be required to make this marriage look real.” He stood almost a yard away, but the distance and her apartment suddenly seemed to shrink.

“PDAs?”

“Public displays of affection. We'll need to touch. Like we did tonight.”

She could handle that. “Okay.”

“Kiss.”

She gulped. “I don't think—”

“Newlyweds kiss and touch. Often. Making people believe we can't keep our hands off each other is part of the performance.”

Her lips seemed to throb beneath his gaze. Tension stretched between them. Would he kiss her tonight? To seal the deal? To test her acting ability? Her heart pounded so hard she felt light-headed.

“Can you handle that?”

“I…um…yes. I can handle kissing you.” She hoped.

Adam turned abruptly and strolled deeper into the living room. Her lungs emptied in a rush.

“You need different clothes, makeup, hair, a manicure—”

“You want me to get a makeover?”
She didn't know whether to be insulted or pleased. She'd been downplaying her looks for so long it had become second nature. Apparently, she'd become good at looking drab.

He hitched his pants and sat on her sofa. Such a masculine man on flowered chintz just looked…wrong somehow. “To be believable as my wife you're going to need a little flash and a lot of style.”

“To compete with your usual bimbos, you mean?”

“There will be no competition. I told you, Lauryn, I won't be unfaithful despite your ridiculous insistence on celibacy.”

She marched across the room and stopped in front of him. “It's not ridiculous.”

He stretched his arms along the back of the sofa and let his gaze coast from her face to her breasts, waist, legs and then back up again. Goose bumps sprouted in the wake of his examination.

“We'll see who can hold out the longest. And when you break, you come to me. No one else.”

She wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. “I won't break.”

“We'll see. I'll hire a personal shopper to help you choose appropriate clothing and make the beauty appointments.”

“I'll choose my own clothes and make my own appointments.”

“Lauryn—”

“And I won't dress like a tramp.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don't date tramps.”

“Didn't your last girlfriend recently make the news for flashing a pantiless crotch shot at the paparazzi?”

“She wasn't my girlfriend.”

“The media says differently.” She futilely tried to massage the headache squeezing the back of her skull beneath her knot of hair. “I can dress myself and do all the rest.”

He sat forward, forearms braced on his knees. “Not from what I've seen. Keep your wardrobe conservative, but try to dress your age instead of matronly. Remember, people are supposed to believe I'm attracted to you.”

Ouch.
“You'll have to trust me.”

“We can't afford mistakes. We have to get it right the first time.”

“I'll get it right.”

Tense, silent seconds ticked past. “You have a headache?”

“Yes. But it's nothing a good night's sleep won't cure. Please, Adam, go home. I'll read the documents and discuss them with you tomorrow.”

He stared at her as if considering refusing, but then rose. “I'll pick you up at Estate at five tomorrow evening. We'll stop by Brandon's office for the notary to witness our signatures before going to dinner.”

And then she'd be tied to Adam Garrison in a sham of a marriage for two years.

But what was two years when her entire life had been a lie?

“R
eady to roll?”

Lauryn nearly jumped out of her chair at the sound of Adam's voice behind her late Tuesday afternoon. She swiveled around and found him standing just inside her office.

Black suit, white shirt, conservative black-and-silver-patterned tie. Manly. Magnificent. He'd always been a sharp dresser, but she rarely saw him so formally attired.

“Almost. You're early. Let me print this last page.” She caught the sheet before it could hit the tray. “I typed up an addendum.”

“Addendum to what?” He crossed to her desk and took the papers she offered.

“Our agreement. These are the items we covered last night.”

His gaze ricocheted from the pages to her face. He backtracked and closed her office door. “Our sex life is not going into a legal document.”

“I want the terms spelled out.”

“I won't have anything in writing that the press can use to discredit me. The prenup and marriage contract are risky enough. Delete that file,” he ordered in an authoritative voice.

Her hackles rose in a conditioned response. Like a Pavlovian pooch. She'd never taken orders well. Her father had barked them as if she'd been a new recruit, and she…well, she'd rebelled. More often than not her response had landed her in hot water.

But that was then.

“Adam—”

“Do it now, Lauryn.”

Grasping the arms of her chair, she sat back and counted to ten. “You're protecting your interests. Why shouldn't I protect mine?”

“I give you my word I will abide by your requests.” He fed the pages into the shredder and then planted his palms on her desk and slowly leaned forward until he towered over her. He held her gaze without blinking. “Until you tell me otherwise.”

The last phrase, delivered with a cocky half smile, oozed confidence and charisma. He thought she'd change her mind about the sex ban. He had no clue what kind of lockdown she'd put on her hormones since dissolving her hasty marriage or how good she'd become at ignoring the opposite sex. But he'd learn.

She deleted the file and even emptied her computer's recycle bin. “Done.”

“Let's go.”

“Wait. You need to approve the advertisement for my assistant.”

“No need to advertise. Your predecessor is eager to come back to work. She's discovered she needs a break from full-time diaper duty.”

Tension squeezed Lauryn's throat like an invisible strangler's hand. Silently, she collected her purse and the marriage agreement and followed Adam out of the building.

“Did your attorney look at the contract?” he asked.

“I don't have an attorney here and there wasn't time to find one.”

Adam grasped her elbow and stopped her on the sidewalk. He met her gaze head-on. “I won't cheat you. The settlement is fair.”

“I know. I read it.” Five times. Pages of emotionless words promising twenty-four months of her life to a virtual stranger. A year to get Adam elected and then a year to keep him in office until he'd proven he could do the job.

Would she be able to remain as detached when she shared a home and a life with this man? Would she be able to walk away as if the marriage had never happened? Her reaction to Adam's stimulating touch said the time wouldn't pass without leaving its mark.

But she could control her body. Couldn't she?

She had to.

She turned, pulling free of his hand, and looked past him, but she didn't see his BMW by the curb. A dark blue Lexus sat in Adam's usual spot. It wasn't the first time someone had ignored the sign marking his reserved parking place. She scanned the street, but didn't see Adam's convertible in any of the other spaces, and the valet wouldn't arrive until later this evening. That meant a hike to the parking deck, which was one of the reasons—besides the prohibitive cost of parking—Lauryn always rode the bus. Thank goodness for her preference for flat-heeled shoes.

Adam reached into his pocket, withdrew a key ring and hit a button. The Lexus's lights flashed. He dangled the keys in front of her. “You wear a lot of blue. I hope that means you like it.”

“What?” She gaped at the small SUV and then at him. “You're kidding, right?”

“No. You're driving.” When she didn't reach for the keys he caught her hand, pressed them into her palm and closed her fingers around them.

She didn't know which startled her more. The pricey car or the contact with Adam. She'd have to work harder at reining in this taboo attraction. “I have a decent car.”

“Now you have a better one. Keep the old one or sell it. I don't care.”

“But…”

“Appearances, Lauryn. It's all about appearances.” He checked traffic and then opened the driver's door for her. “Let's go. Brandon's staying after hours for us.”

She slid into the buttery soft leather seat, filled her lungs with that new-car smell and checked out the tinted sunroof. Compared to her four-year-old economy sedan, this car's dashboard looked like something NASA built. GPS and satellite radio. Who knew what the other gizmos were? Her hand trembled as she slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine.

Adam climbed into the passenger seat. “You've delivered documents to Brandon for me before. Remember where his office is?”

“Yes.” She wasn't looking forward to maneuvering a brand-new luxury vehicle through rush-hour traffic.

Adam gave her perhaps five minutes to get accustomed to the way the car handled before speaking again. “Bahamas law requires us to be in the country twenty-four hours before we can apply for a marriage license. We'll leave tomorrow morning, get married Thursday evening and then come home Monday morning and move our stuff into the house.”

Thursday? She gulped. “So soon?”

“Waiting wastes time.”

“You're willing to leave Estate that long?”

“The staff will survive without me, and Sandy will fill in for you.”

He had it all figured out. “Sandy's my predecessor?”

“Yes.”

“I won't have time for the makeover you requested by tomorrow.”

She kept her eyes on traffic but caught his shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Do it on the island. Cassie's well put-together. She can tell you where to go.”

All too soon they reached the high-rise housing Washington & Associates. Because so many of the building's workers were making the evening exodus, Lauryn easily found a spot near the entrance. She parked and climbed from the car. The knot between her shoulders from driving the unfamiliar vehicle sank to her stomach and expanded with each step she took beside Adam toward their destination.

He ushered her into the elevator and up to the law offices of Washington & Associates. A woman Lauryn guessed to be in her sixties waited for them by the reception desk with a big smile lined on her face. On past visits Lauryn had always left packages with the receptionist, who wasn't behind her desk.

“What is this I hear about an engagement? Both of your brothers, then Brandon and now you. Have the men in Miami suddenly become smarter?”

“Hello Rachel.” Adam pulled the diminutive woman into a hug and then released her and extended his hand toward Lauryn. “This is Lauryn Lowes, my fiancée. Lauryn, this is Rachel Suarez.”

Lauryn reluctantly put her left hand in Adam's and let him tug her forward. The shocking heat of his touch seeped up her arm and then oozed down deep inside her, but the woman thankfully broke the spell by enfolding Lauryn's right hand in both of hers.

“He'll be a good husband as long as you keep him on a short leash,” she whispered.

Wide-eyed, Lauryn darted a quick glance at Adam to see if he'd heard, but his face remained impassive.

“Thanks for that tip,” she replied and received a wink in return.

Movement down the hall drew Lauryn's attention. Brandon Washington strolled toward them. He was Adam's height, attractive and African-American. Lauryn had spoken with him on numerous occasions when he stopped by Estate.

The men shook hands and clapped shoulders before Brandon greeted her with a nod. Lauryn nodded back and tried to smile.

Adam indicated Mrs. Suarez. “Is she still running this place?”

“She likes to think so,” Brandon replied. The warmth in his eyes belied his firm voice. “Let's step into my office.” Brandon turned to Mrs. Suarez. “Give us five minutes and then join us, please.”

Lauryn's mouth dried. The deal was all but done. Her feet felt weighted as she followed the men across the carpet. The point of no return lay directly ahead.

But if she walked away what would she have learned about her mother? Not enough. Not nearly enough. And she'd probably lose her job, too, for leading Adam on and then reneging.

The door closed behind them, sealing them into Brandon's office. He faced them across his desk and waited until they were seated before asking Adam, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I'm sure.”

Dark brown eyes lasered in on Lauryn's. “Are you?”

“I—” She covered her flash of panic by clearing her throat and handing over the folder. “I am.”

Brandon accepted it and withdrew the prenuptial agreement and marriage contract. “Did you have any questions, Lauryn? Is there anything that requires clarification?”

Is there another way?
“No.”

“She didn't have a lawyer read the agreements,” Adam said.

Brandon stilled. “Would you like me to have one of my associates come in and go over the documents? I can assure you he'd be unbiased.”

“No. I'm comfortable with the contracts.”

Brandon nodded. “Once you get to the Bahamas you'll have to provide proof of arrival time in the country. The airport should be able to give you that. Then you'll swear before the U.S. Consul at the American Embassy that you're single American citizens who wish to get married. The next day you'll visit the Registrar General's office to get your license. No blood tests are required, but Adam says you're both going to be tested tomorrow morning anyway. Good decision.”

That was news. Lauryn looked at Adam. He stared back. He must really believe he'd be able to charm her into bed.

Not going to happen,
she told him silently with her eyes.

One corner of his mouth lifted, and she could practically hear his thoughts.
Wanna bet?

“Lauryn, are you divorced or widowed?” Brandon asked as he laid the documents on the desk in front of them.

“Um…no.” She'd been told annulments didn't count. Legally it was as if her marriage had never happened, which was only fitting since she couldn't remember the ceremony. Her skin burned with shame over that low point in her life. She'd just as soon nobody ever knew how stupid she'd been.

“Then that's all the paperwork you'll need. Cassie has arranged the rental of a cottage for you on a private beach. She's also hired the minister, photographer and caterers. The ceremony will take place Thursday evening on the beach at sunset. Cassie and I will be your witnesses. I'll issue a press release afterward. Any questions?”

Cold permeated Lauryn's hands and feet. She shook her head because she couldn't have spoken even if she'd tried.

A tap sounded on the door. It opened and Mrs. Suarez poked her salt-and-pepper head through the gap. “Ready for me?”

“Perfect timing as always,” Brandon answered.

The petite woman bustled in carrying her notary stamp.

Brandon offered Lauryn a pen. “Lauryn, you sign first.”

It took a second to find her nerve. She accepted the pen with an almost steady hand and scratched her name and the date where he indicated, first on the marriage contract and then on the prenuptial agreement. Adam did the same. And then Mrs. Suarez affixed her notary stamp, date and signature to each.

Done.

Heavy doubts rumbled through Lauryn like a California mud slide followed by a weird kind of numbness as Brandon matter-of-factly collected the documents and returned them to the file folder.

“I'll make sure you each have copies and I'll see you Thursday.” Brandon stood and then extended his hand.

Thursday.

In forty-eight hours she'd be a married woman. Again.

And this time she couldn't call daddy to fix her mistake.

“Will you marry me, Lauryn?”

Stunned, Lauryn stared at Adam. The buzz in her ears drowned out the conversations around them in the elegant, exclusive restaurant. Or maybe a hush had fallen over the eavesdropping patrons awaiting her response.

She didn't know much about diamonds, but she'd bet the one pinched between Adam's finger and thumb cost a mint. The marquis stone had to be at least two carats. She forced her gaze from the mesmerizing sparkler to his eyes. Serious. Compelling. Intensely blue.