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Sean leaned back in his chair and scraped one hand across the back of his neck. “And if you were a simpering maiden trapped in the middle ages, that would make sense.”
This wasn’t starting off very well, she told herself and then decided to ignore whatever comments he made. He didn’t understand yet, that was all.
“Okay, yes,” she agreed, “he’s a little old-fashioned.”
Both of his eyebrows arched.
“Fine. More than a little.” She blew out a breath and explained. “I grew up here on Tesoro. My grandfather raised me when my parents died in a small plane crash when I was five.”
He frowned at that, then took a sip of wine. Still not giving anything away. Not letting her get even a hint of what he might be thinking. He was probably an excellent poker player, Melinda told herself. She, on the other hand, was terrible at card games. She couldn’t bluff to save her life. She was much more up-front and honest—well, she admitted silently, she wasn’t exactly being honest with her grandfather in all of this. But then, she had tried to talk him out of this husband hunt he was on. Sadly, she hadn’t been able to change his mind.
At the thought of Walter Stanford, she smiled in spite of her frustration. Her grandfather had been the one constant in her life. The one person who had always loved her no matter what. He was only trying to see her married because to him, that meant she would be protected and loved even when he was gone.
Which she so didn’t want to think about. A world without Walter Stanford in it just didn’t seem possible.
“Anyway,” Melinda said, “he’s getting older now and worrying about leaving me alone. I’ve told him that I’ll be fine, but he comes from a generation that believed in taking care of women. I’m his only family and he wants to protect me.” She gave him a long look. “You come from a big family and you’re very close to your brothers. That’s another reason why I’m coming to you with this plan. You understand family loyalties.”
“I do,” he admitted with a nod. “In fact, that’s the one part of this whole thing that I totally get. I understand your grandfather’s motivations. What I can’t figure out is why you’re willing to play along with his plans.”
She smoothed her palms over the skirt of her cream-colored tank dress and tugged at the hem, but couldn’t get it to reach the tops of her knees. “Because I love him. I don’t want him to be worried …”
“… And?”
He was right, there was more. Quite a bit more.
“And, once I’m married, as I said, I’ll come into my trust fund.”
“Ah,” he said, with a small smile. “And by marrying me, you don’t have to worry about your new hubby making off with your money.”
“Exactly.” She returned that smile and felt a bit of her nerves slide away. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you got past the weirdness of the conversation.
“And again, how long would this marriage last?”
“I think two months should do it,” she said, warming to her subject now that they were talking specifics. She had been working on this plan for weeks now and in her mind, at least, it all worked out perfectly. And so far so good. Sean King was still sitting opposite her. He hadn’t said yes, yet. But, he hadn’t walked out and he hadn’t said no—precisely. “It’s long enough that my grandfather would be convinced we at least tried to make it work.”
“And once our marriage ‘fails,’ you think he’d stop trying to marry you off?”
“I think so,” she said, chewing at her bottom lip as she considered it. “I hope so,” she corrected after a minute or two. “But basically I’m tired of fending off men trying to buy my grandfather’s goodwill. Besides, this is my only chance to get my trust fund my way. Well, mostly my way. I’ll still be married, like Grandfather wants, but it will be a husband I choose and the kind of marriage I want.”
He shifted in his chair and the breeze ruffled his black hair, lifting it off his forehead. He was still listening, so Melinda hurried on.
“Like I said earlier, if you agree, we’ll get married and stay married for two months. I’ll get my trust fund. You’ll get your land. And then we’ll both get a divorce.”
The waiter showed up just then, so whatever Sean might have said would have to wait. Impatient now, sensing that just maybe he was beginning to come around, it seemed to take forever for them to order their meal. Finally, though, it was done, and they were alone again.
“So?” she asked. “What do you think?”
That was easily enough answered. Sean was still fairly sure she needed medication.
And yet … He draped one arm over the back of his chair and studied her.
Warm night, cold wine and a beautiful woman sitting across the table from him. In Sean’s world, that sounded just about perfect. His gaze swept up and down Melinda Stanford, from the thick black waves of her hair to the blue-green stones glittering at her ears to the dip in the neckline of her dress, to the shine of her manicured nails. She was gorgeous. No doubt. But she was also complicated. And maybe crazy.
Still. Didn’t mean he couldn’t consider her proposal. In fact, he’d spent the last few hours doing just that.
Her grandfather, Walter Stanford, had shut down every deal the Kings had proposed over the last few months. Walter hadn’t been interested, no matter how high their offers had gone. Either the old man seriously didn’t need the money or he was as crazy as his granddaughter. But as soon as that thought entered his head, Sean discounted it. The old man wasn’t a loon.
He was crafty.
Walter knew what he wanted and wasn’t willing to settle for less. How the hell could a King of all people resent that? The King family did the same thing. They never took no for an answer and never gave up on something they wanted.
Sean smiled to realize that he and ol’ Walter would probably get along great.
“What’s so funny?”
“What?”
“You’re smiling,” she pointed out, managing to look both gorgeous and offended. “I asked what was so funny?”
She was insulted, Sean realized and he couldn’t really blame her. No doubt she thought he was laughing silently at her well-presented offer. And as he considered the fact that it was so well-presented, he had to wonder if he was the first man to receive this weird proposal.
“How many times have you tried this?” he asked, leaning toward her so he could keep his voice down. Tables on the patio were few and the other diners sparse, but it paid to be careful.
She frowned slightly. “You’re the first.”
“Why? Why pick me?”
“I told you. I checked you out.”
“Yes,” he said, “but you’d already decided that I would be the lucky winner or you wouldn’t have bothered doing your research.”
She chewed at her bottom lip, and he wondered if it was nerves or just a habit. Then she reached for her wineglass and took a long sip. She set the glass down again before saying, “I knew my grandfather was talking to you. He kept me posted on the negotiations between him and your family. He told me that you had taken over from Lucas and not long after that I saw a picture of you, okay? And you looked … nice.”
“Nice?” he repeated, appalled at the idea. “Old maid schoolteachers are ‘nice.’ Puppies are ‘nice.’ Ice cream on a hot day is ‘nice.’ Men, especially Kings, are not nice.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, “I’m getting that.”
He’d never been called nice in his life. Funny. Handsome. Smart. And by some, he admitted, cold. Closed off. But never “nice.” What picture of him could have possibly given her that impression?
“Where’d you see this photo?”
“It was in one of those celebrity magazines they sell at the grocery store.” She flushed when she said it, almost as if embarrassed to admit she read the damn things. But millions did, Sean knew.
“You were at a football game with one of your brothers—”
Sean nodded. “Lucas,” he provided, remembering that shot of him and his brother at a pre-season game. If his secretary hadn’t shown it to him, he would have been unaware of it. He never paid attention to the photographers who were always ready to take pictures of the King family. It was just part of being who he was. Nodding, he said, “We hit the first pre-season game together every year.”
“Well, in the picture, you were laughing and you looked friendly.”
“Better than nice, but just barely,” he admitted. He had an easygoing attitude to most of life, he supposed, which worked well in business, since his opponents were never ready for him to turn on them. But as far as women were concerned, most of those he knew would never think of describing him as nice, for God’s sake.
Nice was … nice. He wasn’t. Not at the heart of him. And usually it didn’t take long for people to pick up on that.
She shrugged a little. “The point is, you looked like a man I could talk to about all of this. When I found out you were coming to Tesoro personally, I decided to take a stand.”
“By lying to your grandfather.”
“Not a lie,” she argued quickly. “We actually will be married. So it’s more of a colorful representation of the truth.”
He fought back a smile. Seems Melinda Stanford had her own rules to play by. Well, Sean could admire anyone who set out to do something and didn’t let anything get in the way. He could even take a step back and see that from her point of view, he actually was the perfect temporary husband. The question was, could he see it from his point of view?
Their dinner arrived before he could say anything else and, for a few minutes, they each focused on their meals. The food was excellent, the atmosphere even better and the beautiful woman across from him was just the capper.
He’d rarely met a woman who didn’t find it necessary to fill every silence with some kind of inane chatter. He found himself relaxing. The silence stretching out between them was companionable somehow, as if they were already a team.
He frowned to himself at that thought, since he hadn’t decided a damn thing yet.
“You’ve lived here your whole life,” he said into the quiet.
“Since I was five, yes.” She turned her head to look out over the water. The tide was out, and a handful of couples strolled the beach in the moonlight. “It’s a lovely island. The town is small, but the hotel is a big draw. Most people prefer coming here because Grandfather’s never allowed the cruise ships to stop. So, our guests tend to be very wealthy and very into their privacy. But they spend plenty of money in the village and the shops usually make enough money to last them through the off-season.”
“I know.” He gave her a quick grin. “The Kings do research, too.”
“Then you already know that Tesoro is the perfect spot for the resort you want to build,” she said, setting her fork and knife down.
“Agreed.” It was more than perfect. Like it had been designed specifically for the plans Rico had in mind. Rico’s hotel in Mexico was top-of-the-line, modern, beautiful and plush. But for the resort on Tesoro, things would be different. Rico wanted to go with island elegance. To make this the most talked-about destination spot in the world.
And with King Construction behind the building and design, it would be. Sean was itching to get started. The plans were already drawn up, the equipment ready to ship to the island. All they needed was the old man’s go-ahead and things could start rolling.
“It would be good for Tesoro, too,” she told him. “We have a small construction company on the island, you know. My grandfather started it twenty years ago. They do all the building and would be a big help to your company.”
“Uh-huh.” He knew that, too. Of course the Kings would bring in some of their own men because they’d worked with them for years and trusted them. But using island labor would not only move things along quicker, it would make for good relations with the locals.
It would all be perfect—if he didn’t mind getting married to accomplish it.
Melinda’s eyes shone in the candlelight and her smile curved her lips just to the point where he thought about leaning over the table to have a taste. Her teeth chewed at her bottom lip again and he felt an answering tug inside him. Sean was tight and hard and going to damn well embarrass himself if he had to stand up anytime soon.
“Are you listening to me?”
“What?” He grinned, grateful for the distraction. “Sure. Construction. Can’t get enough of that.”
She frowned and huffed out a breath. “I’m just saying that this could be a good deal for all of us, Sean. You get the land, the island gets a hotel that will create jobs and bring in money to the locals—”
“And you get your trust fund.”
“Yes.” She picked up her wineglass and took the last sip. When she’d finished, she asked, “Well. What do you say? Do we have a deal? Will you marry me?”
Those four words sent an instinctive chill down his spine, but Sean ignored it. Sure, he had vowed to never again make the mistake of getting married. But this was different.
The first time he had said “I do,” he got screwed, in more ways than one. This time, he would get something out of the deal beyond a quickie divorce. This time, he would be the one in charge. The one to say when it was over. The one to walk away.
And this time, his heart wouldn’t be involved.
Nodding, he held out one hand to her. “I think you’ve got a deal.”
That smile of hers widened and nearly took his breath away. She took his hand and, just like their first touch hours ago, the instant their palms met, there was a quick flash of heat that seemed to zing straight up his arm to bounce around his chest like a crazed ping-pong ball. Sean had been hoping to hell he had imagined that sizzle between them. But if anything, it was stronger this time around. Damn it. If she felt it, she didn’t show it, so neither did Sean. He willed his body into submission and fought against an attraction that was more powerful than he’d expected.
“There’s just one more thing,” she said as she pulled her hand free of his.
Sean laughed. “You’ve already swept me off my feet,” he said wryly. “What’s left?”
“No sex.”
Well, that got his attention. He stared at her for a long minute until she finally shifted her gaze from his nervously.
This was an entirely new experience for Sean. Most women were downright eager to get close to him. Hell, he usually had to fend off women trying to fling themselves into his bed. He’d turned down a lovely woman only an hour ago in the hotel bar. But her blond hair and brown eyes hadn’t done a thing for him since he had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Melinda Stanford.
The woman who wanted to marry him—just not sleep with him.
He stared her down and she didn’t flinch. That steady blue gaze never wavered.
What was going on? He wasn’t imagining the sizzle of heat that leapt between them whenever they touched. He hadn’t missed the flash of something interested in her eyes. And he for damn sure wasn’t wrong about his own desire for the woman who had turned this trip upside down inside of a few hours. If he’d met her somewhere else, he would have tried to seduce her into a long weekend—and he had no doubt he would have succeeded.
So what was the problem?
“No sex.”
“That’s right.” She took a long breath and looked back into his eyes. “Why complicate things? This is a business arrangement, after all. It’s not a real marriage, so I don’t see why we should …”
“Have sex,” he finished for her, astonishment clear in his voice.
“Exactly.”
“This just gets better and better,” he murmured.
“It’s only for two months,” she pointed out, managing to sound both impatient and pained all at the same time. “Surely that won’t kill you.”
“I think I can manage to hang on,” he said, though silently he admitted that it wouldn’t be a party. He already wanted her and he’d only known her for a few hours. Being married to her, with her all the time … how much worse was this going to get over two months?
Maybe he should just make a call to Rico and find out if he was willing to put his hotel somewhere else. A moment later, though, he dismissed the idea. It was Tesoro or not at all. The island was perfect for their needs, damn it.
The island had a mystique with people. The hotel was old-school deluxe, but it was small and couldn’t support many guests. Since the island was privately held, anyone wanting to do business on Tesoro had to go through Walter Stanford. And he was a man who liked his privacy.
Which would be perfect for the exclusive resort the Kings were planning. The mega-wealthy would come here to play on the beach and enjoy the high life away from throngs of tourists and, most especially, paparazzi.
It was all perfect.
Except for the whole marriage thing.
“And,” she said, dragging his attention back to her.
“There’s more?” he asked with a short laugh. “What else is there? Got a dungeon you want to shut me up in? Or maybe you want me living on bread and water for a couple months?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“Oh, I’m being ridiculous.” He shook his head and gave her an almost admiring glance. “You want us to be married. Living together. Putting on a ‘colorful truth’ for your grandfather—but none of the fun stuff.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and he knew for a fact that she was feeling what he was. So just how long would she last with this little celibacy rule? As that thought wandered through his mind, Sean smiled to himself. This, he thought, could get very interesting.
“This isn’t about fun—”
“Clearly,” he agreed.
Her lips thinned and her mouth worked as if words were trying to get out, but she refused to let them. Finally, though, she took a breath and said patiently, “It’s a small island, Sean. So you won’t be able to sleep with anyone else, either. My grandfather would find out and this whole thing would be over before it began.”
Sean stiffened at the insinuation. Sitting up straight, he laid both hands on the tabletop and leaned in toward her. Even riding that quick whip of anger, he kept his voice down. His gaze bored into hers as he said, “I. Don’t. Cheat. When I give my word, I keep it.”
Their gazes locked for several long seconds before she finally nodded. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to be clear about everything.”
He leaned back in his chair, gritting his teeth against the bubble of frustration inside him. “Fine. We’re clear.”
“And we still have a deal?”
He looked into those blue eyes of hers again and told himself this was surely a mistake. He felt it right down to his bones. But damned if Sean could see another way for him to get what he wanted.
“Yeah,” he said. “We have a deal.”
He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. Couldn’t believe he was going to get married. Again. And this one wouldn’t be any more real than the first one.
At least this time though, he’d know going in that the marriage would mean nothing.
Three
Walter Stanford was somewhere in his seventies, but his sharp blue eyes didn’t miss much. He was tall, with snowy white hair, a hard jaw and the bearing of a much younger man. He stood behind the wide desk in his library and looked at Sean with a cool, dispassionate eye.
Sean met the older man stare for stare, never blinking. He knew how to run a negotiation and knew all too well that the first man who spoke, lost power. So he kept quiet and waited for the older man to say something.
Walter Stanford’s suite took up half of the entire top floor of the hotel, with Melinda’s private quarters in the other half. It was old-world elegant, again with just a touch of shabbiness. As if the place had seen better times. Sean had to wonder if the old man was as wealthy as rumor suggested.
He had noticed a couple of telltale water marks on the ceiling, proof of a leaky roof that hadn’t been fixed in time. And there were other things too. Nothing over the top, he thought, just tiny warning flags. Scars on the wood floors, chipped molding, window casements where the plaster had crumbled.
Of course, none of that proved anything. All it might mean was that Walter Stanford was simply too busy or too uninterested to make the dozens of minor repairs buildings always required. Or, he thought, it could mean that the old man needed this hotel deal far more than he wanted the Kings to know.
Sean smiled to himself, but kept his expression carefully neutral.
“You’ve met my granddaughter,” Walter said, taking a seat in the bloodred desk chair.
“Yes. She seems … nice,” he offered, enjoying using her own word.
The three of them had spent the last twenty minutes chatting and talking about the island. Melinda had left the room just a moment ago and, Sean thought, Walter wasn’t wasting any time.
“Let me be frank,” the older man said, setting his elbows on the desktop and steepling his fingers. “You want to build a hotel on my island. I want my granddaughter happy.”
Sean took a seat in the chair opposite the desk and set one foot atop the other knee and prepared to play dumb. “What’s one have to do with the other?”
Walter gave him a smile and a wink. “You’re single. Wealthy. Reasonably good-looking.”
Wryly, Sean said, “Thank you.”
Tucking his fingertips beneath his chin, Walter continued. “I believe in laying my cards out on the table, how about you?”
“Always best to know what the other man’s holding.”
“Excellent. Then let’s get down to business. I want you to marry my granddaughter. Once you’ve done that, the land is yours.”
If Melinda hadn’t prepared him for this yesterday, Sean thought, he would have fallen out of his chair. Even prepared, even with a deal already in place, he was a little surprised. Amazing to think that in the twenty-first century, women were still being bartered.
Of course, this woman had done the bartering herself and damned if she hadn’t negotiated a hell of a deal.
Walter was waiting for an answer and Sean let him wait. His brain raced with the implications of what he was about to agree to. Getting married, even temporarily, was a huge step. He didn’t want to, but he had spent the better part of last night lying awake trying to come up with a different way to get what he wanted—and he’d come up empty.
Just as, no doubt, Melinda had known he would.
The Stanfords, both of them, were stubborn enough to be Kings.
Tapping his fingers against his knee, Sean asked, “How does Melinda feel about this?”
Walter frowned briefly. “She understands. It’s good for her. Good for the family. Good for the island.”
Unexpectedly, a ripple of anger washed through Sean. If Melinda hadn’t stepped up to chart her own course and make her own deal with Sean, she would have been no more than a bound sacrifice, stretched out across the Stanford altar.
Good for the island.
Who did things like that now?
Frowning, Sean watched the older man and tried to read his eyes. But the old guy must have been a hell of a poker player back in the day. His expression gave away nothing.
“Well?” The older man dropped both hands to the black blotter on his desk. “What do you say?”
There was a lot he should say, Sean thought. He should tell the old man that his granddaughter was worth more than a bargaining chip to be used in a deal. Hell, a couple of hours spent with her had told Sean that much. He should say that Melinda had a sharp mind and a clever way of driving a bargain. He should tell both of the Stanfords to go to hell and take their island with them.
He’d love to tell him that his granddaughter was filling up his mind with tempting thoughts that were destined to go nowhere. That one touch of her hand was enough to set off fires inside him that were still burning hours later.