Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride / The Executive's Surprise Baby

Three

Yet another dead end.

Lauryn tried to keep her steps from dragging as she followed Adam into the moist evening air and across the brick courtyard toward his car. She’d pinned her hopes on walking in her birthmother’s footsteps tonight. But Adrianna Laurence had never set foot in the Ainsleys’ house. At least, not this one.

Lauryn’s disappointment was almost enough to distract her from the feel of Adam’s hand wrapped around hers. Hot. Firm. Electric.

He’d been attentive all evening with a casual touch at her waist here, a brush of his hand against hers there. It hadn’t taken her long to realize his every move had been designed to convince the other guests they were a couple. And yet he hadn’t said one dishonest word or made a single inappropriate gesture to which she could object.

Much as she disliked the situation, she had to face facts. Being a pawn in Adam’s scheme had its benefits. She’d been the only outsider at the gathering tonight, but because she was Adam’s date she’d been welcomed into her birthmother’s stratum by the same people who’d refused to speak to her a few months ago. People who had very likely known her birthmother.

With a little Garrison grease to oil the hinges she’d made more progress tonight in two hours of chitchat than she had in weeks of knocking on doors and researching microfiche newspaper articles and county documents. She didn’t have her answers yet because it was too soon to ask without risking rejection, but as long as she was beside Adam she could build the tentative connections to find out what she wanted so desperately to know.

Adam opened the car door, but Lauryn didn’t climb in. She pivoted in her flat sandals and studied the ostentatious home. Lights streamed from every window, painting stripes across the dark grounds. “You’re telling me the Ainsleys demolished a perfectly good house and built a new one in the same spot?”

“Five years ago.”

“But why?” She turned back to Adam and realized he’d moved close enough to loom above her—far too close for her peace of mind. The tang of his cologne, a crisp lime scent, teased her senses, and she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Her body still hummed from his unexpected touches throughout the evening and his proximity overwhelmed her.

One small step and they’d be breast-to-chest, hip-to-hip. Her gaze drifted to his lips. With all the practice he’d had, she’d bet he was a great kisser. If he bent his head—

No kisses. Back up.

But she couldn’t. Trapped as she was between the car and Adam’s lean frame, there was nowhere to run. She forced her eyes away from his mouth and dragged a lungful of the heavily scented night air into her chest, but she couldn’t identify the flowers she smelled.

Had her mother known the names? Had Adrianna been a plant lover? A swimmer? A shopaholic? A night owl or morning person? Tall, short, introvert or extrovert? Had she been a rule follower or a rule breaker? Knowing nothing frustrated Lauryn and left her feeling empty. Adrift.

Adam shrugged. “With the shortage of land and surplus of cash in South Florida it’s a common practice to tear down and start fresh. Sometimes massive reconstruction is due to hurricane damage, but in this case Helene wanted renovations that exceeded the value of the house.”

Alarm streaked through her. “Your house hasn’t been razed has it?”

His eyes narrowed as if he could hear the panic she couldn’t quite keep out of her voice. “No. It’s the original structure. Why?”

Get a grip, Lauryn. She forced a smile. “I…um, love history. I hate to see it erased. We’re close to your place, aren’t we? Would you show it to me?”

He hesitated so long she thought he’d refuse. “Sure. There’s no one staying there this week.”

She slid into the car with so much anticipation and excitement bubbling through her veins that she could barely sit still.

Adam drove off the Ainsley property, down the palm-shadowed street and then pulled into a short driveway blocked by another set of elaborately coiled iron gates and stopped the car. He tapped a security code onto a recessed keypad and the wide gates silently glided open.

Emotion clogged Lauryn’s throat as the car rolled into a circular brick courtyard and around the center fountain. Sensor lights flicked on, flooding the area with light. Scrambling to absorb it all at once, she ticked off details in her mind. Mediterranean style. Four-car garage to the left. Arched windows. Carved columns. Deep, shadowed porches.

Her birthmother’s home. Lauryn’s heart thumped as hard and fast as a helicopter’s blades as she climbed from the car on trembling legs. She wished she could see the house in daylight instead of washed by a weak crescent moon. She wanted to examine every minute detail of the elaborately carved cornices above the windows and doors and under the gables and eaves.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Like I said, it’s a good investment. By the time I unload it, the property will have doubled in value.”

Panic burst in her veins. He couldn’t sell. Not yet. “You’re going to sell it?”

“When the market and price are right.”

She wiped her dampening palms on her simple black sheath and followed Adam onto the front porch, tangling and untangling her fingers while he unlocked the door.

How many times had her birthmother crossed this threshold?

He entered, hit a light switch and then punched a sequence on an alarm system concealed by a small mirror. He gestured for her to join him, but she couldn’t move. A weird form of near-paralysis locked her muscles. She was so close to uncovering the truth. So close to the diaries and answers.

If they were here.

But what if she didn’t like what she learned? What if her mother wasn’t a nice person? What if her mother had died of some hideously debilitating and hereditary disease? And what if Lauryn possessed some flaw that made her unlovable?

Her father and Susan had loved her hadn’t they? Maybe. Her parents had lied about so much that Lauryn didn’t trust herself to recognize the truth anymore.

“Lauryn?” Adam’s expression asked why she delayed.

She scrambled for a response. “This luxury is about as far as you can get from the military housing I grew up in.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you at the Ainsleys’.”

“I guess I was too nervous about meeting all those people to be overwhelmed by the house. I, um…don’t get out much.” Not anymore.

She forced her feet forward and found herself in a soaring circular two-story domed foyer. She slowly turned around in the center of the Mariner’s Compass pattern inlaid into the marble floor like a glossy stone quilt, and then crossed to the wide staircase sweeping up and around the foyer to the second floor.

Had her mother crept up and down these stairs, avoiding the squeaky treads in the middle of the night? If marble treads creaked, that is.

Had the wild streak that had landed Lauryn in so much trouble as a teen come from Adrianna Laurence? Lauryn certainly hadn’t inherited it from her father, a regimented career military man, or learned it from her adoptive mother, a serene saint of a woman who never raised her voice or her hand no matter how obnoxious Lauryn had been.

“Want the ten-dollar tour?” Adam’s voice intruded.

She blinked. “I thought that was a ten-cent tour.”

“Inflation,” Adam replied straight-faced. “If you don’t have cash, I’ll accept a more creative payment.”

His gaze dropped to Lauryn’s lips and her mouth dried. She cleared her throat and looked away. “I’d love a tour.”

She had to get into this house without him dogging her footsteps. Maybe she could convince him to give her a key to drop stuff off for the VIPs and steal a few minutes to explore. “How many bedrooms?”

“Six bedrooms, seven and a half baths, plus servants’ apartments over the garage.”

Six! It would take hours or days to search each closet for loose floorboards and that was assuming the closets were empty and she wouldn’t have to shift stuff out of the way first.

“This is definitely the kind of house to raise a family in.” Her mother had grown up here, an only child, and according to what little Lauryn had uncovered, had moved back home after one semester at Vassar. Had Adrianna taken the diaries to college with her? Had she brought them home?

“Come on.” He turned and headed through an archway.

Lauryn hustled after him. “Did you make many changes after you bought the estate?”

He strode past a stream of rooms, flipping light switches as he went. “Other than updating the electrical wiring, no. The previous owners kept the place well-maintained. I even bought some of the furniture in the estate sale.”

Lauryn stumbled. She barely caught a glimpse of the book-lined library, home theater, massive kitchen, two-story living room and beamed-ceiling den as she hustled to keep up with Adam. The grandeur of the house blew her mind. She wanted to beg him to slow down, to let her soak up the details like a sponge, to ask which pieces of furniture had been the Laurences’.

Had her mother sat on that sofa or at that writing desk? But asking would require explanations. And explanations could lead to rejection. It was too soon to launch her appeal.

He didn’t stop until he reached a circular sunroom jutting from the back of the house like a peninsula. Three of her tiny apartments would fit in this room alone.

To her right a wall of windows overlooked an expansive pool and patio illuminated by subtle landscape lighting. The left side revealed tennis courts, and beyond the seawall at the back of the property stretched a private dock with a long, low and fast-looking boat floating in the channel.

With one sweep of his hand Adam extinguished the interior and exterior lights and the outside view vanished. Pale moonlight cast the sunroom in a mysterious combination of shadows and wavering silvery light.

“Ready to go?”

No! Not yet. “You’re not going to show me the upstairs?”

He closed the distance between them in two lazy strides, lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. Surprise held her motionless. Shadows sharpened the angles of his face. His thumb brushed over her lips. Desire sparked instantly in her veins and judging by the sudden widening of Adam’s pupils and the flare of his nostrils he felt something, too. The air suddenly turned hot, humid and heavy.

“If you want to get me into a bedroom, you’re going to have to accept my proposal and sign the agreements first.”

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. She could not let herself fall for Adam Garrison. She’d given up bad boys and shallow relationships a long time ago. And while Adam wore designer clothing instead of torn jeans, he was still a heartbreaker through and through.

Been there. Done that.

Tempting, but taboo.

But she had to have access to this house. She’d lost her father and her own identity eleven months ago and possibly shattered her relationship with her mother beyond repair. If she had any chance of getting her life back on an even keel then she had to figure out who she was—who she really was—not the fairy tale her parents had concocted.

There was only one way.

A chill raced through her. She spun away from Adam, wrapped her arms around herself and picked her way through the mottled shadows to stand by the window and stare out at the lights winking across the darkness from the houses on the island across the channel.

“I’ll do it,” she said in a rush with her gaze focused on the rocking boat instead of the man behind her.

Light filled the room once again. “Do what?”

She slowly turned and met Adam’s direct gaze. “I’ll marry you. But only if we live here.”

“I have a condo within walking distance of the club.”

“Have you ever considered you might appear more settled if you lived in a house instead of a bachelor pad?”

He dipped his head. “Good point.”

“I won’t give up my job.”

“Lauryn, you won’t need to work.”

“But I want to.” She took a slow breath and then blurted, “And I won’t sleep with you.”

“You’ll have your own room.”

“No, Adam, I mean no sex. You might be able to be intimate with someone you don’t love, but I can’t.” Not anymore. She remembered all too well the self-loathing afterward. She’d wanted to hurt her father with her brazen behavior, but she’d only ended up hurting and hating herself.

“I’ll get tested if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That has nothing to do with it. I mean, it is important given the legions you’re rumored to have bedded, but—”

“Legions?”

“You’re not known for your discriminatory tastes.”

“There haven’t been legions.”

“How many then?”

“None of your business.”

“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 shirtsleeve 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.”