Love For Sale (21 page)

Tears blurred her vision, a lump of emotions rising in her throat. “I love you,” she whispered gruffly.

Somehow, he managed to lift her from the car without bumping her head, fold her in a heated embrace, and kiss her. She wound her arms around his neck, the flowers dangling from her hand. As always when they touched, passion sizzled between them. She felt him becoming aroused and deepened the kiss. He broke away, more than a little breathless.

“Sealed with a kiss.” He swept an old-fashioned bow.

March’s laughter died on a sudden realization. She hated the thought of wearing the wig in her wedding pictures. She would much prefer her own hair, but she was bald. Regrowth to a nice length would take at least a year. The cancer had robbed her of so many things, but thankfully not her life. She refused to allow that dark shadow to hover over her now. At the end of the day, as Christian was fond of saying, did the length or color of her hair matter a great deal? It was going to be the biggest, brightest day of her life.

“Mrs. Christian Aguillard.” Lovingly, she traced the chiseled line of his jaw, and a beautiful smile fired his eyes brighter blue.

How she wished she’d waited for her Prince Charming, not surrendered and married Paul. All the wasted years reared up to torture her.

“You look as if you’re going to weep.” Christian slid a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face, gazing into her eyes with an enchanting intensity. “Don’t tell me you have reservations.”

“None. I was simply wishing you’d come along earlier. Before I met Paul.”

He grinned and tweaked her cheek. “I was probably only a twinkle in some scientist’s eye.”

“Let’s go home, get these roses into water, and I like your idea of drinking champagne in bed.” Bumping him with her hip, she laughed. “And plan our wedding.”

In the two-block drive to their apartment, Christian chatted happily about their upcoming nuptials. “You’ll have to choose your dress.”

“Yes, ivory, of course, but I want something sexy.” She undulated her shoulders, feeling frisky. “I saw one I liked in a magazine. Finding it may be a problem.” Her hand snaked up his thigh. “Let’s keep it small. My parents. My sister will be my maid of honor. Too bad you can’t invite your siblings.”

“We can always try. Mayfair might consider it another beta test and allow at least one of my brothers or sisters to attend.”

“Or think it’s an attempt at escape if Daniel is being watched.” March settled back against the door. “Is there any chance he might have been kidding?”

He glanced at her, the worried look returning. “None.”

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
The quote from
Hamlet
could be applied to Mayfair, but why had she reminded him of those worries, particularly on this special night?

He glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned. “I sincerely hope he is…okay.”

“Why the pause?”

“I don’t trust my mother company. In fact, I am afraid for Daniel and the others.” He blew out a breath. “Very afraid.”

She patted his hand on the wheel. “The hardest part is the waiting.”

“And there is absolutely nothing else we can do without revealing my identity.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze soft and warm. “We mustn’t allow this to spoil our happiness in the meantime. We are engaged now, my wonderful, beautiful, sweet and spicy March.”

****

Sunday morning, they sat in the dining room, March drinking coffee while they discussed the wedding. She glowed with happiness, her feelings resonating in Christian. He couldn’t resist stretching his arm across the table to touch her hand. First, they settled on a date in early December, the service at 6. She ran to the nearby market to buy a bridal magazine. When she returned, she switched the station to intimate piano, settling on the sofa to choose a gown.

From the kitchen, he called, “More coffee?”

“Yes, please, then you can pluck me down from the ceiling.”

He chuckled but sobered instantly as he remembered a serious concern. Dread and reluctance held him silent as he delivered the steaming mug.

She glanced up at him. “Thanks. Come help. Whoa, you look like you lost your best friend. What’s wrong?”

Struggling for a way to begin, he drifted to the couch beside her. Anxiety prickled his neck. Head bowed, gazing at her through his lashes, he took the first step onto perilous ground. “Are we planning to be married in a church?”

“Yes, I’d hoped to.” March frowned. “Why?”

“I’m not human, not one of His creations, but a creation of Man.” He shrugged, his gaze sliding off hers. “Your God might be offended that an android dared take vows in His house.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. My God is a god of love.” She captured his chin with her fingers and turned his face toward her. “God created Man. Man created Mayfair who created you and your brothers and sisters. Therefore, He created you, too.”

“I didn’t realize you believed in God.” He stroked her face with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t realize you did either.”

“When I was waiting for you in surgery, a woman came into the garden. She said she would pray for you. I was worried and felt helpless. I asked her to please pray.” He smiled, but a shadow had fallen. “And on your Profile, to the question
Religion
, you answered Christian.”

She nodded. “That questionnaire took most of a morning.”

Slipping an arm along her shoulders, he pressed a swift kiss to her lips. “I’m not worried, if you’re not.”

How he hoped this god of love had heard his prayers for March’s recovery and her health. Like unruly waves, emotions surged in him, happiness drowning in worry. Any thought of the cancer darkened his mood, plunging him into fear.

“I’m not worried at all. One, we know the wedding will be formal. Two, it will be in a church. I want a standard service, nothing fancy. I’ll carry white roses. The maid of honor will carry yellow roses. You will have a white rose boutonnière.” She turned to him for confirmation. “Does that sound good?”

“Perfect. We must find the church, decide what kind of reception we’ll have, and where.” He gave her a quick, one-armed hug, loving the light of excitement in her eyes.

Her anticipation banished the lingering shadow of fear. “A sit-down dinner would be nice, but a buffet would be cheaper.”

Christian was still smiling when he glanced at the door and froze.

****

March followed the direction of his gaze and cringed. The door framed her ex, a chill smile on his lips. He waved an overnight envelope. She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Not again. Why can’t these people get it right? He’s got my mail.”

Paul pointed to the return address as if she could see it from this distance.

Christian’s gaze sheered to hers. “I recognize the logo. The letter is from Mayfair Electronics. And it looks as if the envelope has been opened.”

“Oh, hell.” Fear stabbed at her heart, sudden dizziness threatening to drag her into spinning blackness.

She gritted her teeth, fighting to stay conscious.
I won’t faint.

What was in that envelope? It could well be proof her future husband wasn’t human.

Reluctance dragged her footsteps, but her pulse raced. At last, she faced Paul through a barrier of glass. One hand fisted, the other clutching the envelope, he bared his teeth in a cruel, gloating smile. A dark feeling crept over her. The coffee soured in her stomach. He jabbed a rigid finger at the return address.

“Open the door, March. I’ve got something here for you…and your bag of nuts and bolts,” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass door.

Dear sweet heaven, Paul knew Christian was an android, and he was laughing at her for buying a
man
. Something like terror gripped her pounding heart. Sudden pain throbbed behind her eyes, her stomach twisted into a sick knot. Drowning in humiliation, she hesitated. Blood pounded in her ears. God, she couldn’t bear his caustic accusations or his condescending yet bitter expression. He actually looked as if he might strike her.
I’ll never see the boys again
. The thought blasted her like a shotgun fired pointblank. She battled the lightheadedness causing her to stumble.

“You got some literature on your pretty boy.” Paul tapped the package against the glass.

Behind her, she heard Christian curse. The next instant he materialized at her side. She glanced at him. He stared at Paul, his expression bleak.
He has emotions
. She recalled Melissa’s warning. Fury glittered in his eyes. At his sides, his beautiful hands were lethal fists. Was he capable of taking a human life? Or would his programming prohibit him from killing? He looked as deadly as an adder poised to strike.

March gripped his arm. “Please, go into the bedroom. I don’t want you involved.”

“He’s probably wondering, probably angry that you replaced him with a robot.”

Her ex’s dirty laugh and accusing leer sent a shiver over March. He pointed at Christian. “You couldn’t get a man, so you bought one? A tin man.”

Her beloved looked down at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m staying. You will not face him alone.”

“I don’t want to open that door, but we must know what’s in that package.” March filled her lungs with a breath of courage.

The tension was making her physically ill. No one, except Christian, seemed to remember she was still a cancer patient. She met Paul’s mocking stare and decided that Christian was right, that Paul’s ego had been threatened when March divorced him and fell in love with an android. Trembling fingers gripped the lock. The door was heavier than usual, grating along its track. Paul took a quick step forward. Christian jumped in front of her, the two men face to face, both angry, Paul breathing hard, reeking of beer.

“So, he’s programmed to love you. Programmed to screw you, I’d say. How dare you embarrass your family and pay as much as a mansion in River Oaks for that thing! What did you do, win the lottery? Get out of the way,
sexbot
.” Paul spat the word like a curse.

It happened fast.

Paul made a grab for her arm. “Come here, March.”

Christian thrust her back, and in a lightning quick move, smashed his fist into her ex’s face. Blood spurted from Paul’s nose. He attacked Christian, and together they staggered into the living room. Paul landed one fine blow to Christian’s cheek, but the android was far stronger and more agile. He seized Paul’s neck, choking him to the floor.

“Stop! Christian, stop,” March screamed. “You’re angry, embarrassed, and crazy. Paul, get out.”

A stupid memory flashed through her mind. She heard again her facetious question to Mayfair about Asimov’s
Three Laws of Robotics.

Robots aren’t supposed to harm humans, and they’re supposed to obey orders from humans. They can protect themselves, but not if that means harming or disobeying humans.

Here, now, Christian was breaking every one of those laws…with a will. If anyone needed proof that Mayfair’s androids possessed emotions, he was living, battling proof.

“Stop, now, Christian. Don’t kill him. I command you.” March stamped her foot, the carpet muffling her dismay.

He shot her the briefest of glances and buried a fist in Paul’s stomach. His opponent grunted, reaching for him. Was Christian pulling his punches or delivering all his strength? She suspected he held his full force in check.

God knows what will happen if he frees that power.

Standing astride his fallen enemy, he rained blows to his head. Blood smeared Paul’s twisted face, leaked from his battered lips. Christian slammed his head against the floor. Her ex sputtered, trying but failing to connect a blow to the android. Lifting him by the neck, Christian flung the other man out the open door. Somehow, Paul remained on his feet. He grabbed the envelope from the floor.

“I’ll see you dismantled, you son of a bitch.” His face painted red, Paul shook his fist. “I’m sure Mayfair would like to hear about this and the rest of the world, too. Say goodbye to your robot, March.”

“Leave us alone,” Christian growled, advancing.

Paul retreated, stumbled down the staircase, and fled toward home.

March gripped her lover from behind. “Christian, what have you done?”

He whirled, his eyes blazing. “I’ve shown the bastard I’m not a toy.”

“You don’t know Paul. He will have revenge.” She paced, wringing her hands, choking on tears.

Chapter 15

“He’s going to contact Mayfair.” March whirled, facing him, her stunned expression incredibly sad. “What if they recall you?”

Those five words sliced through him. Christian looped his arms around her neck. “I know. But don’t you see? I couldn’t allow him to get past me to you. The man was in a jealous rage. He
would
have hurt you. It wasn’t about my being an android. The whole bloody mess was about…Paul still loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t. Paul wanted to hurt me. He must have thought over his shortcomings long and hard, realizing—”

“He’d come in second to a robot.”

“Why I wanted someone else. He’s very controlling.” Tears brimmed on her lashes. “Oh, Christian, you were protecting me?” She hugged him close to her breast, her heartbeat pounding against his chest. “I won’t let them take you from me. Never. By God, I won’t.”

He stroked her hair as she sobbed into the crook of his shoulder. She didn’t see the fear in his eyes or the tears on his cheeks. A moment ago, he had considered a daring move—asking Mayfair to allow Daniel to attend the wedding as another beta test. Now, there would be no wedding, and dread squeezed his heart. March was correct. He was certain his
parent
company would recall a defective unit. His only hope was, he’d been protecting March, and that duty was embedded deep in his coding.

The ringing phone snapped them apart. They exchanged a terrified look. That jangling instrument had the power to end their fairytale. Christian’s heart clenched. A shiver, as if an electric current sparked beneath his skin, raised gooseflesh on his limbs. March strode to her desk and grabbed the handset, but hesitated, staring at him.

“It’s an international number.” A tremor shook her voice.