The Marriage Bargain (25 page)

Julian de Laurent stood in the doorway, looking handsome and humbled.

Camille’s heart hammered against her chest. Fearing her mouth would fall open, she tightened her lips and forced them together.

Julian smiled one of those hopeful-looking smiles she was used to seeing from the diner’s gracious patrons. Not a bad thing, just not what she was used to seeing from Julian.

She looked away, not knowing why he was here, but still fearful of losing her heart. “What are you doing here?” she asked, forcing her gaze back to him. “What happened? My check bounce?”

Julian snickered with a one-sided grin and walked toward her. “Chéri...I have missed you so.” He scooped her hands in his. She stiffened.

“You missed me?” she asked. “That’s all you have to say?” Camille yanked her hands free and turned away, more afraid this was some kind of joke than anything else.

Julian, as if he’d picked up on her weakness, stepped closer and guided her face, with gentle fingertips, until her gaze met his. His touch rekindled the hunger she’d been trying to smote. And those green eyes caught her, holding her captive. Undressing her. Caressing her. Tormenting her.

Camille wanted to break the gaze and called upon her anger for assistance. “No. I’m not feeling this, Julian.” She backed away and shook her head. “What do you want?” she asked again, more forceful this time, stopping at the last booth before the kitchen.

He moved toward her. She braced herself against the booth, just in case her head swooned down into her heart.

“I came here to say I’m sorry.” There was none of the usual arrogance in his tone. Only regret with a hint of hope.

That shocked Camille and scared her at the same time. “Apologize to me?” Her fingers landed against her chest. “A liar and a cheat.” She hoped the words stung him. They had when she’d heard them pour from his mouth.

But her words didn’t seem to faze Julian in the least. He moved within inches of her and fenced her in, latching both his hands onto the booth.

“Here.” She tried to use the necklace as a barrier, holding it against his chest. That was a mistake. The feel of his muscular frame beneath his suit sent shockwaves of desire trembling through her.

Julian took the trinket and moved closer, draping it around her neck. She didn’t move, in fact, she held her breath. He took forever to clasp the damn thing. The lack of oxygen squeezed her lungs and fogged her brain. Just when she thought she’d pass out, he trailed his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, stepped back and released her.

She siphoned a deep breath and a shudder of desire slipped in. His magnetism was so potent.

A smile quirked Julian’s lips as he reached into his jacket pocket. “Close your eyes.” The arrogance had returned to his eyes, like he knew he had her right where he wanted.

But Camille couldn’t forget the hatred he’d dealt her back in France. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

He shushed her. “Close your eyes,” he said again, with forceful calm.

She did it, against her better judgment.

Camille felt Julian’s fingers engulfing her left hand and she started to get nervous. She yanked away, opening her eyes. “This is so not cool.” Somehow, she managed to slink out of his snare and rushed to the other side of the restaurant.

As she suspected, he followed.

“Chéri, you’re my wife,” he said. “Can’t you at least give me a chance to explain?”

She stopped. Irritation consumed her. She pivoted around and stuck a finger in his face. “First off...I’m not your wife. Not anymore.” She paused, trying to contain the irrational behavior building up inside. “Secondly...as far as explanations go, I’ll give you the same consideration you gave me.”

She tried to move away, toward the kitchen. Julian grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly, almost violently against him.

“First of all...yes, you are my wife. Still.”

What
? She’d signed the papers. They were divorced.

“I don’t know about the rules in America, but in France a divorce takes two signatures.”

“I signed.” She looked away.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t sign. I couldn’t.”

“Oh, I get it.” She sighed, disappointed. “You don’t want to be divorced because then you’ll be free to be pushed into marriage with Madeleine.”

“No. That’s not why I didn’t sign.” His tone took on a quality of mockery before it was overshadowed by remorse. “When it came down to it, I couldn’t break our connection. Yours and mine.”

He was good, she’d give him that. A passionate fluttering popped up in her chest. It was wise to ignore her heart and all it desired. Camille had trusted him before and look how that turned out. But he was looking at her with that look of his, the one that made her heart go pitter-patter.

She sighed, fighting that sinking, losing feeling.

“Please come home?”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” she said, shaking her head.

“Please, Camille. I realized something when you left.” His voice drifted into a hushed whisper. “I love you. I need you to come home. Forever.”

Love
? Was he serious? She chewed on her lower lip and stole a look at him.

Julian shot her a mischievous grin before releasing her hands. He backed into the nearest booth and dropped her wedding rings onto the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked, his actions sending her pulses spinning.

“I’m sitting down.”

“Why?”

“It looks like I’m going to be here a while.”

She hesitated, blinking with bafflement.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to come home.” There was something genuine and truthful and determined in his manner. Julian was serious.

Camille slid into the opposite side of the booth and laid her hand on the table. “Well, you’ve got a long wait ahead of you.” She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help herself.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He reached across the table and grabbed at her fingers.

Camille ignored the blush burning her cheeks. She could hold out about ten minutes. Fifteen, if she tried really hard. When Julian turned on the charm, he had no trouble getting whatever he wanted.

Including Camille.

EPILOGUE

One Month Later

THE NAOMA LOUISE
crept out of the marina, gliding toward the waters of the Mediterranean as the last, faint colors of day faded away.

Julian waited on deck for Camille. She’d said she wanted to slip into something more comfortable. He hoped that meant
sexy
.

They’d made a quick get-away right after the ceremony; she hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her dress. They’d done the whole wedding-circus act last time. This time, it’d been just for them.

It seemed like the logical step after Soren had found her wedding dress in that little second-hand shop in Marseilles last week. It’d been a stroke of luck, actually, when Soren saw it in the shop’s window while driving past.

After Julian reacquired the gown—and learning Madeleine had sold it to the shop—it only seemed fitting that he and Camille should renewed their vows so she could wear the dress that’d been made specifically for her.

They had done that today, and now, he was taking her on a cruise of the Greek Islands—a desire she had expressed right after he’d brought her to France the first time.

Julian looked at his watch, and back to the double doors leading below deck.
What’s taking so long?

Just when he was ready to go look for her, Camille emerged wearing a sheer black negligee over a bikini of the same color.

Desire swelled inside him, as quickly as a summer storm brews. Drinking in the sight of her, he stood slowly. “You look absolutely stunning.”

A rush of pink stained her cheeks. Julian swept her into his arms. She sank into his embrace, saying, “Thank you for bringing my dress home.”

“Anything to see you smile.” He kissed her, savoring every second. “As far as weddings go, I think this one was by far our best.”

“Well, you know what they say...” She looked at him with eyes that said she was ready to embark on the voyage of love. “Third time’s a charm.”

Julian laughed, and latched onto her hands. “I have something for you.” He led her down to the chaise lounge chair and pulled her into his lap.

She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. “You really don’t have to give me presents.”

“Well,” he said, reaching for a folded document on the table beside them. “This is a special one.”

He offered it to her; she took it and sat up, then unfolded the document and perused it. As she read, her mouth dropped open. She looked up at him, shaking her head. “Julian...?”

“You now own half of everything that is mine.”

She glanced away, and remained silent for a time. It felt like forever before she sucked in a breath, and said, “Julian...I don’t want your money.” She shrugged. “Just your love.”

“And that, Chéri, you have.” He snuggled her closer. “No one will ever tear us apart again.”

“You promise?” she whispered.

“I promise.” He caressed her soft curves and she molded into the contours of his body. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

“Once or twice, my love. Once or twice.” Her soft, whispering breath tickled his neck.

Holding Camille in his arms, Julian was the happiest of men. Their marriage had started as a business arrangement, but somewhere along the way they’d fallen in love.

Destiny had certainly smiled upon Julian when she paired him with Camille—his perfect match.

**Thank you for reading
The Marriage Bargain
. If you enjoyed it, please think about leaving a review at your favorite online retailer. On the following pages are excerpts from
Crazy For You
by Sandra Edwards and
Regina Duke’s
The Wedding Wager
.**

CRAZY FOR YOU

by

Sandra Edwards

PROLOGUE

1988

New York City

THE INTERVIEW
wasn’t going well. Not from Roxanne’s point of view. She knew Lauren Weber’s reputation as a talk show host. In a word, barracuda said it all. This came as no surprise to Roxanne and now she wondered how she’d ever been talked into this in the first place.

If Lauren’s guest had anything to hide she had a way of tempting those skeletons out of the closet. And Roxanne had plenty to hide. Plenty that could tarnish her public image of sweet and innocent.

This is all Walt’s fault
. Roxanne’s publicist had convinced her it would be good publicity for the new movie. Initially, his argument had been a good one: Lauren Weber was the most popular talk show host around, and this would be a nice plug for the new movie since millions of people would see the clips.

Walt had been adamant, so reluctantly, and against her better judgment, she’d agreed to let America’s favorite talk show host interview the renowned authoress-actress Roxanne Simon.

“What can you tell us about Garrett-Hollander?” Lauren’s questioning voice brought Roxanne back to reality.

She didn’t falter at the mention of the ever-popular rock band. “Well…” Roxanne said, “I don’t know what I could tell you that you don’t already know.”

“Isn’t it true that you and your sister Candy knew them when they were nobody?”

“I’ve never thought of Frank or Rich as nobody.”

“Isn’t Frank Garrett the father of your son?”

The audience reacted with a mixture of gasps and whispers.

Roxanne laughed skeptically. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well, his name is Frankie.”

“Frank is my father’s name,” Roxanne said with all the repose expected of someone with two Best Actress Oscars under her belt.

Lauren took on one of those looks that said she knew she was getting nowhere. But Roxanne wasn’t falling for that. Lauren Weber was regrouping. And Roxanne Simon would be ready.

“Your latest movie,” Lauren said, changing the subject, “
Bad Company
was released last week and it’s doing well at the box office.” She paused briefly, allowing the audience time for applause. “And rumor has it that it’ll be nominated for multiple Academy Awards.”

“Well…I think it’s a little early to be supposing about the Oscars,” Roxanne declared.

“You’re no stranger to the Oscars,” Lauren said. “You’ve won awards before. Aren’t you getting used to collecting them by now?”

“I’ll never get so used to it that I’ll take something like that for granted,” Roxanne said meekly of the Oscars. “I’m always grateful for any recognition of my work.”

Roxanne was surprised at how cool she’d managed to remain. Lauren had invaded territory that was better left alone. Territory that was known for bringing out Roxanne’s weaknesses.

“What’s next?” Lauren’s voice remained casual.

“A vacation,” Roxanne said, and dropped it at that. It wasn’t time for the public to know she’d started work on her autobiography.

“Devoting some time to your son?”

“Yes.”

“Is he here with you?”

Apprehension bundled up inside Roxanne, but she wouldn’t lie. In the past, her lies had a way of biting her on the butt. “Yes, he is.”

“Could we bring him out?”

Shit. Through the years, Roxanne had successfully protected Frankie from the press. Not one photograph of him had ever been published in any newspaper or magazine. But America was going to get a look at him now.

If Roxanne refused to let him come out, the audience would know she had something to hide. That news could get back to Frank. On the other hand, if she let did him come out, then Frank might see him. Yet there was no real choice in the matter; refusing to bring him out would cause a much bigger fuss.

“If he wants to come out,” Roxanne said. “But, Ms. Weber…please understand—” her tone issued an unmistakable warning, “—I wouldn’t want his head filled with any foolish ideas.”

That probably wouldn’t stop Lauren, but hopefully a sense of decency would. Lauren didn’t have to tell Frankie she thought Frank Garrett was his father to get her point across. The implication would be more than enough.