The Groom's Revenge (9 page)
She saw him then, standing in the open hatch of the plane, waiting. He wasn’t making this easy on her. She wished he would come open the car door, take her hand and help her out, then guide her straight into his arms She wished he would tell her he loved her, needed her. Was his wanting her enough for now? A line from her mother’s journal popped into her mind: “I shouldn’t have married him thinking I would change him.”
Karen had found out the hard way that people don’t change, except to reveal more weaknesses. Yet, Gray wasn’t cruel like her mother’s husband had been. He wouldn’t hurt her. The worst that could happen would be that he never opened up emotionally. Could she live with that?
Oh, she wanted to try. She had so much love inside her, all bundled up and waiting to burst out and straight into him. She wanted to fill him with love and tenderness and laughter. She wanted his life to be bright and happy, everything that it hadn’t been. She wanted the chance to show him that nurturing meant caring, loving unconditionally, being there through good times and bad, not expecting more than he could give.
Pollyanna
. A rebellious inner voice muttered the word in an exasperated tone.
. A rebellious inner voice muttered the word in an exasperated tone.
Mollie opened the car door, shut it firmly behind her, then walked to the plane. Up the stairs. He waited, his gaze on hers, patient, gentle, with barely a flicker of anticipation—or was it wariness?—in his eyes.
She stopped on the top step. He didn’t move to let her pass by.
“I love you,” she said. Undaunted by how he stiffened, she took his hands in hers. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Nine
H
er declaration of love sliced through Gray’s equilibrium like a guillotine. Words eluded him. How could she love him when she didn’t know him? She must have given him a stamng role in some romantic fantasy—and the death of any fantasy was brutal, particularly to someone young and trusting and lonely. He knew that better than most, he supposed.
er declaration of love sliced through Gray’s equilibrium like a guillotine. Words eluded him. How could she love him when she didn’t know him? She must have given him a stamng role in some romantic fantasy—and the death of any fantasy was brutal, particularly to someone young and trusting and lonely. He knew that better than most, he supposed.
Being a practical man, he knew he couldn’t return those fantasy feelings. Being a man of conscience—toward Mollie, at least—he knew he should rescind the proposal rather than put her through everything he had planned, particularly now that she fantasized herself being in love. Conscience or practicality? Which carried the most weight?
The decision was taken out of his hands when she smiled at him, her eyes warm and welcoming, her tender hands touching him, offering comfort and peace. So he kissed her, knowing she needed to hear words of love in return, knowing they weren’t in him to say. Love was too fleeting, too fragile, too risky. Risk didn’t belong in personal relationships.
But hope drifted around him like a feather floating and tickling and brushing against his heart as Mollie snuggled against him after the kiss ended.
“We need to get up in the air,” he said, distracted by the scent of her hair, which oddly aroused and relaxed him at the same time. Not only would he get to make love with her, he would get to sleep beside her. All night. Every night.
She preceded him into the plane and immediately took her seat. He left her to buckle herself in as he opened the cockpit door to speak to the pilot, then he took a folder from his briefcase, sat beside her and met her gaze. Starry-eyed. He finally knew what that meant.
“I have a few questions,” she said.
“Go ahead.”
“Am I part of your rebellion?”
The plane rumbled as it moved toward the runway. “Meaning?”
“You know your mother won’t approve of me as your wife. Is that why you asked?”
“No.” He leaned toward her. “Absolutely not.” Or was it...?
She sat silent for a minute, then said, “I don’t want to give up my shop.”
He took note of her defensive tone. “I won’t ask you to. But I hope you’ll let me help you make it easier to run. And I hope you’ll hire some help.”
“I’d already decided to do that, with or without your input. I’ve got interviews set up for tomorrow with three women who’ve come by looking for work since Mom died.”
The plane gathered speed, then lifted. They were airborne.
“I’m afraid I could get used to this life of luxury,” she said, looking out the window. “I suppose I should have asked this question before I said yes to your proposal, but where will we live?”
“Not in California. I resigned as CEO today.” So far, only his stepfather knew, but he would announce it to the board of directors next week.
One week closer to freedom.
“Good,” Mollie said, squeezing his hand, her face serious. “That job was killing your soul.”
He had a soul? “It’ll take a few months before I can abdicate all responsibility, not counting the time my parents will spend trying to change my mind. I’ll be linked to the company forever, anyway, because of my software designs, but I intend to settle in Minneapolis. I’m moving forward on my plans for that company I told you about.”
“What kind of business is it?”
He hesitated. Would she recognize it as a Fortune company? He needed to know the answer to that question. “It’s called Knight Star Systems. They design and manufacture security systems.”
When she didn’t show signs of recognition, he opened the folder, withdrew a sheet of paper and passed it to her. “I started on the wedding arrangements.”
She sat back in the seat, surprise in her pretty green eyes. “When?”
“While you were touring McGuire Enterprises earlier today.”
“You were that confident?”
“If it was going to happen today in Las Vegas, I had to be prepared. Nothing was done that couldn’t be undone.”
Mollie read the neatly typed notes, wishing she could cuddle up next to him. This was beginning to feel like a business deal. Which, she reminded herself, was one of the reasons why she was marrying him. He needed her to balance his dreary, business side.
“You can call the florist from here and tell her what you want,” he said, making notes in the margins of his own paperwork. “The next number connects you with a woman who will try to track down a dress to your liking.”
Mollie shook her head and laughed softly.
He looked up. “What’s the joke?”
“Don’t you find it just a little ironic that the wedding planner doesn’t get to plan her own wedding?”
“I didn’t commit to anything. I just researched and lined up people, just in case. You’ll get to make all the choices.”
“Las Vegas.” She sighed. “I hope the wedding won’t be at a place with Elvis in neon lights.”
He smiled. “It’s a chapel on the strip, but it’s one used by people who require confidentiality We should be able to announce the marriage ourselves, instead of the press treating it like a circus. Only the best for you, Mollie Sunshine.”
Mollie Sunshine? Oh, she liked that “The chapel is famous for confidentiality?” she asked. “But the paparazzi haven’t caught on?”
He grinned.
She rubbed her face with her hands. “Your father probably hates me. The way I figure it, he blames me for you quitting. And your mother is going to die. She’ll be furious at being excluded from the plans. I’m sure she wanted a big, splashy, society wedding, like the one I’m planning for Chloe Fortune and Mason Chandler.”
“She liked you.”
“How could you tell?” Mollie dialed the first number. “Her expression never changed.”
“I know her better than you. I could tell.”
“Liar,” she said cheerfully, then she got busy doing what she loved best—planning a wedding.
Gray hung up the phone and glanced at Mollie as she tapped her pen against her lips. She was focused on the paperwork in front of her, a page littered with check marks and handwritten notations, like his.
He wanted this wedding to be memorable for her, something she wouldn’t be embarrassed to recall. Something she wouldn’t regret. She might regret the marriage eventually, but not the wedding itself. So the music needed to be right, the setting elegant, the clothing suited to the occasion. And flowers. She needed flowers.
“May I have a clean piece of paper?” she asked, looking up.
As soon as he handed her one, she bent over it, intent on what she was writing. After a few minutes he glanced at his watch. They should be touching down soon. Within a couple of hours they would be husband and wife. Why wasn’t he panicking?
“You need to sign this.” She thrust a piece of paper toward him.
Written on top were the words “Prenuptial Agreement.” He skimmed the concise list: (1) Gray McGuire will hold no financial interest in Every Bloomin’ Thing; (2) Mollie Shaw will hold no financial interest in McGuire Enterprises, Knight Star Systems or any other business held now or in the future by Gray McGuire; (3) Gray McGuire will not expect Mollie Shaw to live in a mansion or employ servants. Endicott may come live with us and become part of our family, if he chooses, however.
Gray smiled at that before he continued reading: (4) Gray McGuire will make no major decisions that would affect Mollie Shaw without consulting her first; (5) children of this union will be provided for but will not be given large sums of money at my time in their lives.
She’d drawn three lines, one with the date, one she had signed md one left blank for his signature.
“I’m a simple person, with simple needs,” she’d said last night, and her idea of a prenuptial agreement reflected that simplicity, that uncluttered view of the world. Faith in the world.
He wished he felt the same.
“This won’t hold up in court,” he said gently.
“Why does that matter? It’s between you and me. I don’t expect to see you in court.”
He pulled out another folder from his briefcase and passed it :o her, a generic document his lawyer had drawn up years ago—just in case. “This is the one we need to sign.”
“I guess you
are
prepared.” She flipped through the pages. “Okay. I’ll sign this if you’ll sign mine.”
are
prepared.” She flipped through the pages. “Okay. I’ll sign this if you’ll sign mine.”
“You should read it first, Mollie.”
“Why? I trust you or else I wouldn’t be marrying you.”
His stomach clenched. “You should know what you’re signing.”
“Is there anything in here that my own lawyer would object to?”
“He would want more financial guarantees for you.”
“Which, as my paper clearly indicates, I don’t want.” She waited, her pen poised over the signature line on the last sheet of the twelve-page document.
“You can’t sign it yet. We’ll need witnesses.”
“Well, no witnesses are required for mine.” Her gaze was direct and unwavering.
“I didn’t realize you were this stubborn,” he muttered with some humor as he scrawled his name on her document.
“You wouldn’t want to marry someone you could manipulate too easily, would you?” she asked, tucking the paper into he purse dramatically.
“I don’t suppose I would.”
“Good.” She maneuvered herself into his lap. “Enough business. We’re about to be married. I need a kiss.”
She didn’t wait for him to take the initiative but kissed him first. With a growl he tipped her back, turning the kiss into an attack as she laughed against his mouth, the laughter fading as the kiss deepened.
“Thank you for marrying me,” he said after a minute, strok ing her hair back from her face.
She brushed her fingertips across his lips. “I love you. Don’ thank me for that.”
A tone chimed. Saved by the bell. “That means we’re about to land.”
“I remember,” she said, accepting his help to climb off his lap. She buckled herself into the next seat. “Mollie McGuire,’ she mused. “It has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”
“Your Irish leprechaun would agree.”
“Oh! Yarg. I forgot.” She laughed. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“I dream about melting his voice chip.” The plane touched down with a soft bounce, then glided smoothly as it slowed “We’re here.” Again he waited for panic to set in. But there was only peace.
She’d left her hair down. Her dress was simple and elegan and...
her
, a cream-colored silk sheath topped by a short-sleeved chiffon jacket.
her
, a cream-colored silk sheath topped by a short-sleeved chiffon jacket.
Gray watched Mollie start down the short aisle, her bouque shaking, her eyes large and luminous. Pale pink lipstick drew his gaze to her mouth. She smiled. Sort of.
He left his spot to walk to her, offering his arm. She rested er cheek against him for a moment and whispered her thanks. Her perfume reached him, the same, yet different. Always different.
He was so aware of her. Of her quiet voice as she repeated he vows, of the squeeze of her hand as he repeated his.
Human sparkler,
he thought once again as she elbowed him, her eyes aughing when, distracted by the anticipation of making love with her later, he didn’t respond immediately to the man asking for the ring.
Human sparkler,
he thought once again as she elbowed him, her eyes aughing when, distracted by the anticipation of making love with her later, he didn’t respond immediately to the man asking for the ring.
He slid the emerald-and-diamond symbol of their marriage nto her finger, then he kissed the soft, sweet spot above it. When he straightened, he saw her eyes glisten and her chin notch a little higher. She aimed a gold band for his finger; he helped o guide it on. Tenderness overwhelmed him. He was asking so nuch of her—a wedding without her friends, no avowal of love from him, an instant and complete change to her life. She’d been granted no period of adjustment. No time to reconsider. She would need his protection. He needed to give it. How could he explain it to her when the time came? What words would help?
“You may kiss the bride.”
Sweet words, indeed. And enough for now
It was almost midnight when they arrived at Mollie’s shop.
“I thought we were coming here so you could put your bouquet in the refrigerator case,” he said as they climbed the stairs o her apartment
“On our way out.” Anticipation of what would happen soon nade her legs a little wobbly “I just need to pick up a few things to take with me.” A change of underwear, her dusting powder, her bathrobe for the morning. The hotel probably provided one, but she needed the comfort of her own.
She didn’t want to take off her beautiful, beautiful dress. And Gray had given her emerald-and-diamond earrings and a pendant before the ceremony, then added a matching wedding band at he proper moment, which felt heavy and hot on her finger—his personal brand, his public declaration that she was his, forever. She lifted her bouquet to her face and sniffed the white md peach roses, She hated leaving it behind, even just for the night. But if she wanted to preserve it, she needed to handle it right.
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