DEFENSE (48 page)

“You should travel,” he said. “I bet you’d love Italy.”

That was a dream of mine, to visit Europe someday. Lisa thought it sounded like too much trouble, all that getting a passport stuff. However, it was something I’d always wanted to do. Italy and Paris and Spain. In fact, I had my passport. I applied for it over a year ago in the hopes that I would be able to find a job that would afford me the benefit of international travel. But that was before I found out what my aunts had done to pay for my education.

He pushed his salad plate away and sat back, sipping his wine again.

“We did something of a background check on you when you applied for that job.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Mostly public records. Credit history, education, birth records.”

“Why?”

“It’s standard practice with most businesses these days. Want to make sure we’re getting an employee who won’t disappear on us after the first payday.”

He played with the stem of his glass, acting nervous again. I found it kind of sexy, the lack of confidence, but it was also a little unbalancing. It made me wonder just what it was he wanted to ask of me. Was it illegal? Why else would he seem so nervous?

“The thing is, you weren’t qualified for that job. Not by a mile.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Surely you knew that going in.”

I did. Of course I did. But I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

“But you are qualified for something else I need.” Again, his eyes dropped to the glass and his big fingers sliding up and down the delicate stem. “You’ve never been arrested, never had a ticket, and you vote Republican. I couldn’t have found a more perfect candidate if I’d sent out a list of qualifications to every bridal magazine published in the world.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. On the one hand, it sounded like a compliment to my boring way of life. On the other…what did bridal magazines have to do with anything?

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay.”

But before he could say another word, the waiter arrived once again, this time with our dinners. It smelled heavenly, all that butter. My mouth was watering as the waiter set it in front of me, but Miles didn’t even look at his. He was watching me from across the table, his expression thoughtful as I politely thanked the waiter.

When the waiter was gone, I focused on Miles for a minute.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I was,” he said, “but I’ve sort of lost my appetite.”

“You don’t like the food? I’m sure he could bring you something else.”

“It’s not the food.” He cleared his throat, his eyes moving over me again. I felt like he was searching for something in my face, some secret that would make it easier for him to do whatever it was he was trying to do. But he clearly wasn’t finding that secret.

He picked up his fork, stabbed a shrimp, and bit the tail. He seemed to like it because he slid the rest into his mouth a minute later. But then he put down his fork and watched me eat. And that was nerve wracking, so I put my fork down and met his eyes.

“I find it’s easier to just get it done with, like tearing a Band-Aid from your skin with one quick rip,” I said.

“You’re probably right. I don’t think I was this nervous when I was called to the principal’s office.”

“I’m sure that happened a lot.”

“More often than my mother would have liked.” He smiled, the memory clouding his eyes for a second. Then he focused on me again. “So, I guess I should just say it. I want you to marry me.”

Now that was the last thing I expected to hear. I stared at him for a long second, thinking I must have misunderstood him. But then he said it again.

“I know it sounds really crazy. But I need a wife, and you fit the bill perfectly—at least on paper. And now that we’ve had a few minutes to talk, I don’t see anything that might change that.”

“You want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Now I was staring at him, the one trying to see something that was clearly not there. I thought that maybe it was a joke, and he would laugh at any second. Or that he was mentally unbalanced, and there would be some sort of telltale sign there, somewhere. But I didn’t see any of that. I saw a very handsome man staring back at me, nothing but honesty in his expression.

“Do you have to have a reason to do it?”

“It helps.”

He hesitated, but then he reached across the table and took my hand.

“I’m not insane, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just have something I need to do. And, in order to do it, I need to have a wife who is nothing like the women I normally date. I need someone who is steady, intelligent, and patient. Someone who will show the world that I’m ready to settle down and live the sort of respectable life my father has always wanted for me. I need someone who…well, someone just like you.”

“But you know nothing about me.”

“I know enough. I know your parents died in a car accident when you were five. You were in the car, too, but you only had minor injuries. You came to Waco to live with your father’s aunts on his father’s side of the family. You grew up in the same home they did, attended a decent public school down the street from your home, and you were valedictorian of your graduating class. I know you lived at home throughout your years at college, that you were on the honor roll all four years, and you graduated
summa cum laude
. I also know that your current position at Starbuck’s is the only job you ever held.”

“And all that tells you who I am?”

He shrugged. “It tells me that you have the stable background that will impress the people I need to impress.”

“What people?”

He shrugged.

I wanted to reach across the table and grab him by the throat, make him tell me what the hell was going on. Instead, I got up and turned to leave. Miles followed, grabbing my arm and pulling me hard against his chest, one hand on my arm, the other on snaking around my waist.

“I will pay you a million dollars,” he whispered against my ear. “And I’ll pay off what your aunts owe the bank on their house.”

I stiffened even as my heart jumped for joy. A million dollars. That would set my aunts up for life. I could hire a personal assistant, have someone with them twenty-four seven. And I could do all the things I’d always wanted to do: go to New York with Lisa, travel to Europe, and see my parents’ graves in Houston.

But at what price?

Miles turned me around and pressed his finger under my chin to force me to look at him. “There will be a prenup. I will put in writing that you will get a million dollars after the marriage ends. Just a few months. Six at the most. And then we’ll go our separate ways, and you’ll have the money and my family name to open doors for you. You will be able to do anything you want to do.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

He studied my face for a long minute. “I get a wife to present a certain statement to my clients, my family, and anyone else who matters. I get my mother off my back. I get…” He studied my face for a minute. “I get what I need.”

I blushed. He made a sort of groaning sound when he saw it.

“That’s not what I meant. There won’t be any sexual contact between us. At the very least, you’ll have to suffer my kiss at the wedding. But that’s all.”

“Where will we live?”

“I have a house outside of town. It’s an old colonial I fixed up. You’ll love it.”

I started to shake my head, but his hand was still under my chin.

“I am an honorable man despite what the press says. I will not force myself on a woman.”

“Just for a few months.”

“Yes.”

“And if I want out early?”

“You’ll lose some of the money. But you’ll still have your aunts’ house and my name. But if you stay the whole time, I’m make sure you get a good job. Your dream job. I’ll arrange for it personally.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m Miles Thorn, son of Jackson Thorn. I can make anything happen.”

He pulled me back to the table and pushed me down onto the chair. I stared at my hands, unable to think. It was…insane. Who asks a complete stranger to marry him? And what was worse, who actually considered taking him up on the offer?

But, the thing was, I
was
considering it. If all he did was pay off my aunts’ house, that would be incredible.  I certainly wasn’t going to do it working at Starbuck’s for ten bucks an hour. It was like a dream come true.

“I have the paperwork at my office. I can have it sent to you in the morning.”

I nodded, not really thinking of what I was agreeing to. It wouldn’t hurt just to take a look, would it? I think I was in shock. I don’t really remember anything that happened over the next hour or so. I vaguely remember eating my shrimp. I remember getting into the car so that he could drive me home. But that was about it. The rest was just a blur.

Don’t they say that the night you get engaged will be the most memorable one of your life?

Not mine.

I slipped inside the house after Miles dropped me off, trying to be as quiet as possible so that my aunts wouldn’t hear me. But, despite their advanced age, they seem to have super hearing.

“Riley? Is that you, darling?” Aunt Edna called.

“It’s me,” I said, pausing at the base of the stairs.

“Did you have a good day?”

She came to the door, a ball of yarn wrapped over her hands. Aunt Colleen was right behind her, the rest of the yarn trailing between them.

“Did you eat?” Aunt Edna asked.

“Yes. I went to dinner with a friend.”

She looked at me through narrowed eyes, as though she was not sure if she should believe me or not.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired. I’m going to go up and take a shower.”

“Get some rest then, darling,” Aunt Colleen said.

I nodded as I glanced at them, taking in their well-coifed hair and perfectly laundered clothes. They were classy ladies who were always concerned about their appearance. They were from a time when a woman could face just about anything as long as her face was put on just right. It almost hurt how familiar they were to me. They hadn’t changed much in the years since I came to live with them. A few more wrinkles, maybe their hair had gotten slightly whiter over the years. A little more stoop to their shoulders. It made my heart hurt when I thought about the bleakness of their future.

I went upstairs and jumped into the shower as I said I would. I almost felt human again when I stepped out. Dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, I curled up in the center of my bed and opened my laptop.

If I was going to consider marrying a stranger, I wanted to know as much about him as I could. I’d done some cursory research on Thorn Construction when I applied for the job, but it never occurred to me to research its founder and CEO. That was a mistake I was going to try to rectify now.

All I had to do was put his name into Google and it came up with dozens of articles complete with pictures. The first few were in association with Thorn Construction, basic profiles that were designed to promote the company. They didn’t really tell me anything about Miles Thorn himself. I clicked on another article below those and found one that was focused on his father, Jackson Thorn. The senior Thorn not only had his own massively successful finance company, but he was also the grandson of a former senator who was well-known and well-loved in the eastern part of the country. When I saw his grandfather’s name, even I recognized it, and I’ve never really cared all that much about politics.

Not only that, but the grandfather’s mother came from a family who could trace their roots back to some of the country’s founding fathers. There was a great deal of history and prestige in Miles’ family.

Now I understood what he meant when he said that I could benefit from his name after this marriage of convenience ended. His name would definitely open a lot of doors for a nobody like me.

How was it I had never heard of him before?

I continued to click through the articles and links that had come up in the Google search. There was a lot that showcased his parents, his sister, Lila, and his brother, Robert. His sister was beautiful, the kind of woman who had the right amount of curves and the right balance of dark hair and pale skin. She was the kind of woman I’d admired and wanted to be when I was a teenager. And Robert…he and Miles could be twins. The only difference I could see was that Robert was slightly shorter than Miles and there was something different, darker, in his eyes.

I found myself wondering if Miles was close to his siblings. One of the articles said that both Lila and Robert had recently married, and both still lived in Massachusetts near their parents’ home. It made me wonder why Miles had chosen to move thousands of miles across the country to begin his new business—in a state that was as different from his home as the desert is from the Bahamas.

As I made my way through the links, I found many, many pictures of Miles with a variety of women. He seemed to have a type—tall, rail thin, blond women. Like Lisa. As opposite from me as possible. And each one seemed to have a name that meant something, if the way they were written in each article meant something. A few of them I recognized. There were a couple of actresses and the daughter of a well-known business man. And then I stumbled across an engagement announcement:

Miles Thorn, son of Jackson and Elena Thorn, has just announced his engagement to Claire Watson, daughter of Stanley and Amelia Watson.

I knew who Claire Watson was. She was a supermodel who’d appeared in everything from
Vogue
to
Sports Illustrated
to a multitude of album covers and internet ads. Lisa always pointed out her pictures, claiming that Claire was the perfect woman and we should aspire to be like her. I never really saw it, personally, but I always agreed with Lisa to appease her quiet obsession. If she knew that Claire Watson’s fiancé had just asked me to marry him…

But why would he want to marry me when he had someone like Claire?

None of it made sense to me. He was a man who could have anyone he wanted. Why would he need to get himself trapped in a marriage of convenience? What could be happening in his life that would require a wife of a certain type? He’d said that I was perfect for his needs—I was intelligent, quiet, unassuming. Essentially, I was boring. And he thought that was something he needed right now? It just didn’t make sense.

But who was I to argue when a man wanted to hand me a million dollars and the right to use his influential name for the rest of my life? I mean, hell, it was a win-win situation for me. I marry a hot man for six months and I’m set for life. Well, at least for a few years.

I couldn’t see a good reason not to do this. If he could save my aunts’ house and give me the money I would need to make sure they were never alone, that was worth six months of my time. But there was this side of me that still felt the sting of the realization that he hadn’t asked me out on a date and that he wasn’t really interested in me as a romantic partner. He wanted me to play a role, and then he was going to toss me aside like it didn’t matter. Even though I didn’t know him, even though I knew he was out of my league, that idea still hurt.

Could I do this and remain emotionally whole? Could I spend six months pretending to be something I wasn’t and not lose who I am?

I wasn’t confident I could. Yet, I kept coming back to the idea that this would fix everything for my aunts and I couldn’t walk away from it. I couldn’t turn my back on the one solution to all my problems.

I set the computer aside and curled up against my pillows. It was insane. But how could I make my aunts go to an assisted living facility when I had the opportunity to keep them in their own home for the rest of their lives? After everything they’d done for me—giving up so much to care for a child—the least I could do was give up six months of my life for them.

I would do it. But he had to live up to his end of the bargain first.