Marriage To A Stranger

Her father’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I need you to work this case, Lara, and so does Conley.”

Lara swung her head around, her hands clenched at her sides. “You can fire me if you like, but I’m not taking this on. Conley doesn’t need a bodyguard so much as he needs a baby-sitter. When he goes out, when he’s in the office…someone has to be with him 24/7. And whoever it is has to be good. Someone no one will notice.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re going to have to find the perfect person.”

“That’s right.”

His repetition registered, and Lara finally understood. She held up her hands as if she could ward off his suggestion. “No way. I am not—”

“You have to. You’re the only one who can be around him that much and not raise any suspicions. No one will give your presence any thought. The setup’s too great to ignore.” Her father stared at her, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. “You’re his wife,” he said quietly. “And you’re going to have to act like it whether you want to or not.”

Dear Reader,

I married my husband when I was nineteen years old. He was five years older than I. He came from a small town in West Texas, and I grew up in a large metropolitan area. He was an engineer, and I wrote. He was intense, I wasn’t. My parents were married, his were divorced. I’m Anglo, he’s not.

When we walked down the aisle, money had to be changing hands. The odds were probably a thousand to one on the marriage lasting. We were too young and too different. But very much in love.

Twenty-seven years later, we’re still together—and still much in love. We’ve moved fourteen times, from one end of the world to the other (literally). We’ve lost dreams and replaced them with new ones. We’ve lost hope and found it again. Like everyone else’s, our marriage has had good times and bad.

And that’s why I wanted to write Marriage to a Stranger. Sometimes, no matter how long you’ve been together, you wake up one morning and realize you don’t really know the person next to you. Your partner’s changed. Or most likely, you both have.

In this book, Conley Harrison knows he doesn’t want a divorce. He hasn’t been the best mate in the world, but he has his reasons and believes they’re good ones. He decides he’s not going to let Lara go, at least not before he tries to make things right one last time.

His success—or failure—depends not only on himself but on Lara, as well. Is their love strong enough to survive?

Sincerely,

Kay David

P.S. Visit my Web site at www.kaydavid.com.

Marriage to a Stranger

Kay David

Marriage is one of the trickiest relationships.

You have to be lucky to have a good one, but you have to be smart to make it last. This book is dedicated to everyone who has been brave enough to walk down the aisle and also to those who are contemplating taking the plunge. How do you know you’re doing the right thing? You don’t. You only know you can’t do anything else!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

“I WANT A DIVORCE.”

Standing in the doorway of her kitchen, Lara Harrison spoke in a calm and deliberate manner. Last night, she had practiced saying the words over and over. Looking into her bathroom mirror, her face straight and her voice quiet, she had repeated herself until the fateful sentence had come out sounding both dignified and determined. At least until she’d started to cry.

By dawn, she’d run out of tears. Now, in the painful morning light, all she had left was the awful realization that her marriage was over.

From across the room where he sat at the breakfast table, Conley Harrison, her husband of seven years, put down his coffee mug and looked at Lara. Conley was always collected and composed, and her pronouncement did nothing to change this.

His reaction—or lack thereof—was exactly what she’d expected.

Conley’s taciturn manner—the complete opposite of her father’s nonstop agitation—had thrilled Lara when they’d first married. Quiet and mysterious, her husband had been everything she’d wanted in a man. Things had changed, though, and his attitude had begun to drive her insane. He didn’t share his feelings or let her know what he thought about anything. If she wanted his opinion, she had to drag it out of him. Lately, as impossible as it seemed, he’d become even more reticent. He answered her questions with curt replies and appeared totally preoccupied. To make matters worse, all he did was work. On the rare occasions when he did have a free hour, he acted as if he had better things to do than be with her.

Which, she suspected, he did…and had for some time. She quickly shut her mind to that painful reality. It wasn’t the primary motivation for her decision and there was nothing she could do about it one way or the other.

His jaw twitched, a reaction he couldn’t control, and he repeated her words. “You want a divorce.”

She looked at him steadily. “It’s time to call this one over, Conley. Past time.”

“I don’t believe I understand.”

Lara shrugged as if she didn’t care, but deep inside she struggled to contain her churning emotions. They’d fallen in love so deeply it had almost hurt. She had meant it when she’d promised to love him “forever and ever.” But now forever was over.

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” she replied. “I’m simply tired of living this way.” She crossed her arms. “You do nothing but work. You’re never at home. We aren’t a married couple and we haven’t been for quite a while. I think it’d be best—for both of us—to go our separate ways.”

“And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a long time.”

The cold silence built, a reflection of the day outside. The snow had started last night after Lara had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep; she’d woken and heard the quiet in the middle of the night, had sensed the heavy blanket of white. Years ago, she’d loved the wild Colorado winters. They’d meant she and Conley had an excuse to stay at home in bed.

She couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened, though. She’d moved out of their bedroom several months ago. Sleeping by herself in the room they’d once shared, night after night when Conley didn’t come home, had become a special torture all its own.

The last time they had made love had been more than ten months ago. They’d been in the Turks and Caicos, a small group of islands in the Caribbean. The whole trip had been a foolish idea; Lara wasn’t even sure why she’d agreed to go but she’d been so surprised when Conley had suggested a holiday, she’d said yes without thinking. Once there, they’d passed by the docks one evening on their way to dinner, and she’d caught an aching glimpse of the sailboats in the harbor. A long time ago, they’d promised each other they’d buy a boat and live on it someday. She’d even given Conley a compass when they’d barely had money enough for food.

The failed vacation had been awkward and uncomfortable; a heavy weight neither could carry by themselves.

She looked at Conley again. “You know how I’ve felt. Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said stiffly, “but I would have thought there might be some discussion about it before…this.”

She felt a surge of disbelief. “When would that have happened, Conley?” She lifted her hands helplessly. “You’re never here. Would I have called you in Hong Kong and left a message? E-mailed you in Moscow? Paged you in Rio?” She paused, the awful quiet around them suffocating in its intensity. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she finally said. “Even when you are here…you aren’t. You wouldn’t have heard me if I’d tried.”

Their gazes met. The connection was painful and sharp, a bitter moment of truth for which Lara wasn’t prepared. Regret immediately stabbed her. She didn’t love Conley anymore, but this look hurt more than she could have expected.

With his eyes still holding hers, Conley stood up unexpectedly. For a moment, it seemed as if he were going to come toward her, but all at once, coffee mug in hand, he turned abruptly. Too abruptly. He bumped the edge of the carved oak table with his thigh. Hot coffee splashed over the edge of the mug and down his tan wool slacks, staining the expensive fabric and obviously burning his leg.

He looked at the splotch then froze, his mouth an angry slash. Lara thought he would say something then, scream at her, yell maybe, react somehow. With her breath caught in her throat, she wished for once that he’d just let go.

A moment later, he did.

But it wasn’t what she expected.

Without a word of warning, he raised his arm and hurled his coffee mug into the sink. He’d been a pitcher in college. The mug landed in the drain with a crash, shattering into a thousand pieces.

His reaction was so out of character, so totally unexpected that Lara couldn’t help herself. She gasped and stumbled backward, but Conley didn’t appear to even notice. He tore out the back door and into the snowy morning. A few seconds later, the engine of his Suburban roared to life and a heartbeat after that he shot out the drive, the tires crunching, the big green vehicle a blur of movement as it passed the kitchen window.

Lara stared at the door, still vibrating from Conley’s departure. With everything she knew, she’d assumed he’d be relieved. Bewildered and confused, she lurched toward the threshold. She was halfway across the room when a shard sliced into her heel.

Pain raced up her leg and she cried out. Bending over, she reached down and pulled out the shard, a red stain spreading across the bottom of her sock as dark as the one on Conley’s slacks. She stared at the blood then blinked as the image began to waver. Covering her face with her sticky fingers, Lara moaned into her palms, the heartfelt sound of her sorrow filling the cold empty kitchen.

God, what had she done?

Even though she’d known she had to do it—to say the words that had been unspoken until now, to make the choice that Conley couldn’t—she’d taken an irreversible step. With the utterance of one little word—divorce—she’d put into motion wheels no one could stop. A knot of sick grief lodged deep in her throat. Her foot throbbed hotly, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache in her heart.

CONLEY MANEUVERED the green Suburban down the side street with reckless speed. His mind wasn’t on his driving; it was back in the kitchen with Lara. All he could see were her beautiful hazel eyes, filled with agony and anguish. He’d been prepared for her words, but not for the level of pain they’d caused him.

The SUV slid slightly to the right, and Conley cursed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. The snow was thick, clouds of the white stuff shooting out from his tires to add to the drifts already in place. Driving in Red Feather could be difficult, but no one really minded. Snow made the place what it was—a wonderful ski resort that swelled with tourists in the winter season. The little town clung to the edge of the Rocky Mountains an hour north of Boulder and when the weather turned bitter, everyone who could came here, their skis strapped to their roofs, their minds on having fun.

Conley and Lara had met on the slopes but they had settled here for a much different reason than skiing. They’d needed their own space, away from Boulder, where Lara worked at Mesa Protection and Security, her father’s firm. She hadn’t wanted to be any closer to the office—or Ed—than was necessary during their time off, and Red Feather had offered the perfect getaway.

Or so they’d thought.

Cutting around another snow-covered corner, Conley reached the small lot outside his own office and parked, throwing the SUV out of gear with a jerky motion then killing the engine. For a few seconds, the sound of the huge motor echoed in the sudden silence, then the noise died out, leaving behind an emptiness that matched the one in Conley’s heart. He stared down the street at the sign in front of his office.

Harrison’s was all the sign said, but that was all that was necessary. Conley had started the firm after finishing college and now he had more than seventy-five employees. The company had grossed almost fifty million last year, the world-renowned computer chips they designed highly specialized and incredibly expensive. They helped run everything from the space station to mechanical hearts. But their very uniqueness was also their downfall. When someone had a question about a Harrison chip, Conley Harrison was the only person they could ask.

Big deal. Who in the hell cared? None of it really mattered to him anymore and it hadn’t for quite some time. His throat closed tightly as Conley thought about the effort and hard work he’d put into his business over the years. His only goal had been to make a good life for Lara.

And for himself, as well, he confessed silently. The faces of his always weary parents came to mind. They’d been sharecroppers in Kentucky, hardworking, plainspoken people who’d managed to raise five children in the midst of a poverty that belonged to another country, in another time. Despite their problems, they’d taught Conley and his four siblings a lesson Conley had learned well—providing for your family meant everything. You took care of them first and the rest followed.

He tried to live his life that way, but things hadn’t worked out like they should. He’d given Lara everything…but it hadn’t been enough.

A blowing gust of wind caught his attention, snow scratching over his windshield. If he didn’t leave the damn truck soon he might be stuck in it for good. He jumped out with his hand on his cell phone and hurried down the street, the wind cutting through his sweater as if it didn’t exist. He’d been stupid to leave the house without a coat, but staying warm hadn’t seemed important at the time. He’d only wanted to get away from Lara’s accusing stare and hurtful words.

He’d been waiting, holding his breath for months, it seemed, but when she’d finally said what he’d been expecting, the reality had shocked him. He’d wanted to grab her and force her to take back the request, shake her until the words no longer existed. But he couldn’t. She had every right to ask for a divorce and even though it felt as if she’d yanked his heart straight from his chest, he had to acknowledge her prerogative to do just that.

He hurried to the corner, then ducked his head and started across the street. The last few years had been tough ones, he’d be the first to admit, but the most recent couple of months had been even worse. Keeping her unaware of what was going on had been damn near impossible. It sounded crazy, even to him, but Conley could not let Lara find out about his problem. She handled situations similar to this all the time and for that very reason—as illogical as it sounded—he didn’t want her involved. He didn’t want to be just another case for her.

Without any warning, a stunningly cold sweep of wind hit him from the side, searing his face and stripping away his breath. His excuses went with it, planting a blow he couldn’t dodge. Who in the hell was he trying to kid? He didn’t want Lara involved with this mess, yeah, but the truth was, he didn’t think she’d even want to be involved.

Their marriage had been on the skids for a very long time. At some indeterminable point, they’d started drifting apart and neither of them had had the energy or time to do anything about it. Like so many couples everyone knew, they’d stopped listening to each other, stopped giving each other the time that every marriage needed.

They were both guilty, but he was the primary offender; he put everything before their marriage. His work. His company. His self. The painful realization stung, but he had to admit it.

He was almost on the other side of the street, and another burning gust of wind brought his head up—or maybe it was something else, he thought later—some kind of sixth sense, a warning he didn’t consciously consider. Whatever it was that made him look, it didn’t really matter.

The car was coming too fast.

Before he could react, Conley realized he didn’t have a chance. The front bumper of the speeding coupe caught him at the knee and pitched him sideways, into the air. It took forever for him to come down and hit the drift of snow.

He thought of Lara as the whole world went quiet.

CHAPTER TWO

DESPITE HER throbbing foot, Lara was on the StairMaster when the doorbell rang. She’d halfheartedly swept the kitchen then jumped on the machine to try to clear her mind with some hard physical activity. The plan had been a good one, but it wasn’t working.

The bell sounded again, and she ignored it again. By the time she got downstairs, whoever was waiting would be gone. She didn’t even care anyway. She didn’t want to see anyone right now. She was too upset.

Lifting a hand to wipe her forehead, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the chimes, but the noise persisted. With a curse, she finally gave up and made her way to the front door. When she reached the entry, Lara could see her neighbor and friend, Sandy Oakley staring inside, her hands cupped around her eyes to peer through one of the sidelights.

Lara moaned out loud. How could she have forgotten? She and Sandy had made a date last week to have breakfast this morning. She’d promised to pick Sandy up more than an hour ago! She hurried to the front door and threw it open, apologizing before Sandy could even get inside and shake off the snow.

“God, Sandy! I’m sorry! I completely forgot about our breakfast—”

“No problem, it’s okay. Really. My car’s in the shop again so I just trudged up the sidewalk in a snowstorm, that’s all. I’m up to it.”

She waved toward the street, and Lara followed her movement. Footsteps proved Sandy’s point. She looked back at her friend. “Why did you walk, for heaven’s sake? Couldn’t Matthew have given you a ride?”

Sandy’s husband, Matthew Oakley, was Conley’s right-hand man and former college roommate. Conley depended a lot on the brilliant hardware designer.

“He had to go in early. Something about some chip or something…” Sandy patted her bulging stomach. “The baby didn’t mind. He likes cold weather. Really…”

Lara rolled her eyes at Sandy’s elaborate exaggeration. Friendly and outgoing, Sandy was the exact opposite of her quiet and intense husband, although just as smart. She and Lara had developed a close friendship over the years, mainly because Sandy was one of those people who never missed an opportunity to announce how she felt about anything. She kept Lara honest.

Shaking out of her coat, Sandy turned around to add to her litany of woes, then she saw Lara’s face. “Oh, my God. You told him, didn’t you?”

Lara nodded, her eyes filling. Sandy enveloped her in a hug; then, with her arm around Lara’s shoulder, she guided them both back to Lara’s kitchen. “Sit down,” she said. “I’ll fix us some tea.” Sandy got out the mugs and tea bags, and within seconds, the smell of lemon and honey filled the kitchen.

“Tell me.” She placed the steaming cups on the kitchen table and sat down in the chair Conley had vacated a scarce half hour before. “What’d he say?”

Lara shook her head. “It didn’t go well. He…he wasn’t thrilled.”

“Did you expect him to be?”

“I thought he was ready.”

“But he’s not.”

Lara sipped her tea and grimaced. Sandy always made it too sweet. “He threw a mug into the sink, then stormed out. It wasn’t like him at all.” She looked up. “You know how he is. Mr. Strong and Silent.”

Sandy waited a heartbeat, then she said just what Lara expected, her reaction sharp and to the point. “You’re an idiot, Lara. A total, complete idiot.”

Outside the back door, the wind suddenly picked up. Snow swirled and the fir tree beside the window tapped a staccato beat against the glass as if it agreed with Sandy’s pronouncement.

“I had to do it,” Lara said stubbornly, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “And you know why.”

“I know why you think you had to do it, but I refuse to believe your suspicions. Conley isn’t that kind of man. You don’t really think that anyway. It’s an excuse, that’s all.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Lara spoke quietly, sadness coloring her words. “There’s an emptiness between us that I can’t fill by myself. We aren’t the couple we used to be. We aren’t close. We aren’t a family. We don’t even seem to care. And it hurts too much to keep trying.” Her eyes went to her friend’s swelling stomach. “Maybe if we’d had children…”

“Having a baby doesn’t make you a family. Love makes you a family. You could get it back if you tried.”

“I did try, Sandy. But it takes two.”

“You and Conley just got on the wrong track, that’s all. If you’d both—”

“There’s nothing either of us can do now.” Lara interrupted her friend. “It’s over. Believe me, it’s over.”

The wind continued to howl, the gusts growing stronger. Sandy waited a beat. “I’m well aware that’s what you think. But what if it isn’t what Conley believes?”

Looking up at her friend, Lara gripped her tea mug a little too tightly. “I don’t see—”

“Throwing dishes isn’t a typical sign of consensus, is it? Did he say straight out that he’d agree to a divorce?”

“He stormed out the door, Sandy. It was obvious—”

Sandy cocked her head to one side and raised her right eyebrow. It was a familiar move; Lara had seen her do it a thousand times…usually right before she made some horrendous point Lara hadn’t considered. “Did he or did he not actually say to you that he would give you a divorce?”

Lara felt her heart thump. “He—he didn’t actually say the words but…”

“Lara, Lara, Lara…” Sandy shook her head slowly. “Colorado’s a no-fault state and Conley’s got plenty of money. You and I both know money makes the impossible…possible. And vice versa. If he doesn’t want a divorce, it could get nasty.” She put her teacup down carefully. The deliberate movement reminded Lara of Conley. Instead of mere hours, she felt as if a lifetime had passed since they’d talked.

“If he wants to fight you, he can.” Sandy raised both eyebrows this time. “If I were you, I’d be worried about that possibility.”

SANDY STAYED a little while longer, then Lara took her home. The streets were completely empty, the snow coming down in sheets of solid white. When they pulled into Sandy’s driveway, she turned to Lara and paused, her fingers on the door handle.

One last question, Lara thought with dread. God, hadn’t she said enough already?

“Have you told Ed?”

Lara grimaced. Her father would go ballistic when he heard her news, and then there’d be hell to pay. When Ed was unhappy, everyone was unhappy. He made sure of it.

“Not yet. I’m dreading it, though.”

Sandy’s expression turned sympathetic. “He’s not an easy man to break bad news to, that’s for certain.”

Lara tucked her hair behind one ear and smiled grimly. “He’s not an easy man, period.” For just a second she was six years old again and in the first grade. That’s when she’d learned other kids called their fathers “Dad” or “Pop” or even “Father.” Anything but their first name. The argument had been short, and Lara had learned quickly how much her opinion—or anyone else’s for that matter—meant to Ed.