To Have and to Hold (5 page)

"Very astute! It's exactly that. The wedding was…impromptu. He had to improvise." I wiggled my fingers for emphasis, as if I were showing off the Ashberg Diamond.

"I saw you ring shopping on the news last night." Still with the look. "Where's the real ring?"

"They're sizing it. I should get it tomorrow."

"Good! You should have it in time for the party I'm throwing for you two on Saturday."

"Saturday?"

"What, are you busy? Everyone is dying to meet the groom. I can't put them off indefinitely!"

"Saturday's great." I hoped Jus would agree.

"Good. My place." She gave me a time. "I can't wait to see the ring in person. I saw a picture of it on the news. Only twenty-five thousand? Cheapskate!" She shook her head and winked.

"I didn't say how much it cost." I gave her a pointed look. That would be gauche.

"No, but the news did." She smiled innocently.

I didn't remember giving the store permission to release the cost of the ring. But the press could have found out by any number of means.

"That's my fault. I wouldn't let him spend more. The ring is big enough as it is." I laughed. Jus had been right. People were already blaming him for being cheap.

A waiter brought me a glass of water and took my drink order.

"I already ordered our favorite pizza," Britt said. "Stupid short lunch hours. I have to make the most of every minute."

I laughed. Seeing Britt felt incredibly good.

She ogled the waiter as he disappeared. "He has a fine ass. Too bad he doesn't have a better job."

I laughed at her. "Gold digger. Social climber."

"Shut up! Look who's talking." She took a sip of water and watched me over the top of her glass. "Justin isn't here to overhear us. Spill it! How in the world did you end up married to Seattle's most eligible nerd? What were you
thinking
?" She leaned across the table to me. "Just how drunk were you, you lucky thing?"

"Lucky?"

"You're married to a billionaire! Isn't that every girl's fantasy?"

"Well—"

"It's mine." She paused, still staring me down. "Working here in the high-tech corridor, I'm hoping to run into a hot entrepreneur and take him down. And you haven't answered my question."

I sighed and went for the old partial truth form of lying that's renowned in intelligence circles the world over. "We were both pretty out of it." I went for broke. I didn't need her prying into details of the ceremony. "Neither of us remember the ceremony very clearly."

At my frank, yet lying, admission, she nearly sputtered on her water. "Out of it? Really? Since that episode in college, you're so cautious with alcohol you're practically a non-drinker."

She was referring to a particular time when I drank one too many tequila slammers and got exceedingly sick. "I drink!" Why was I so defensive? My heart raced. I fought to keep my smile in place. "Just not tequila."

I sighed dramatically. "Blame it on Eric. He'd just dumped me for that new bitch." I didn't have to fake the venom. I leaned back, as if that explained everything.

She nodded sympathetically, but didn't look totally convinced. "But getting drunk and married on the rebound? So drunk you don't even remember the details of the ceremony?" She sighed again, as if she was exasperated with me, and worried. "That's taking rebounds to a whole new level. And it doesn't sound like you at all. Sure, you can throw the rich-bitch thing in Eric's face now. But…"

I knew what she meant. Had I really cut off my nose to spite my face? That's what she was asking. I couldn't set her straight. There was a price for everything. The price for helping Jus and gaining a lifetime of freedom was appearing like a vindictive, stupid bitch. Shallow. I was going to be swallowing my pride for the next year at least.

"Is Justin aware he's rebound guy?" Britt was still studying me with that look she used when she grilled me about guys.

I shrugged. There was no point in denying it. This was Britt, with her off-the-scale emotional IQ. She would snoop it out, anyway.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No!" I shook my head. "Are you kidding? Absolutely not. Jus is sweet. And committed. Which is more than I can say for Eric."

Britt nodded. "All true. But Eric is hot.
Very
hot."

"How superficial do you think I am?" I tried to look indignant. "There are more important things than looks. Looks fade."

She cocked an eyebrow. "But until they do, hot is good. And Jus is—"

"A work in progress. With potential." I grinned at her. "Come on! You saw the news. I was right, wasn't I? He
is
hotter than he looked."

Britt gave me a slow, sly smile. "
Much
. I'm relieved to see you defending him. Maybe there's hope." She looked as if she might actually believe I was attracted to him. "Jus might not be Eric, but he is striking. Is that the right word? His looks are interesting. His new look is your handiwork?"

I grinned. "I can't take credit for his growth spurt, obviously. But his new sense of fashion? Yeah. Absolutely." I grinned slyly again and tried to sell it. "He has a really hot body now, too. Also not my doing. Abs to die for."

She lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah."

"The main question is—how does he use that body? Is he good in bed?"

"Perfect," I lied. Sort of. He was fine to actually sleep with. Didn't hog the bed or anything.

She grinned. "So. How long is this marriage going to last?"

Crap. She nearly gave me heart failure. I paled. It was as if she knew the terms of our agreement. Then I realized she was just being her usual skeptical self. "We have as good a chance as any couple." In reality, 362 days left.

"A word of advice, Lala." She used my pet name that only my family used. But she was practically like a sister to me.

"I'm listening." I took a sip of water.

"Get pregnant. ASAP." Her face was set and dead serious.

"What?" I nearly spewed my water all over the table. "I'm not ready for children! We haven't even talked about them." I paused and grinned. "There wasn't a lot of time in our whirlwind four-hour romance to discuss much." I laughed, trying to make light.

She shook her head, looking at me suspiciously. "Lala, you were always the nice, responsible voice of reason. I'm having a hard time digesting this sudden marriage of yours. It doesn't make sense."

"I already told you. One word—Eric." I raised an eyebrow. "He makes me do crazy crap. This may be the best mistake I've ever made." Or the worst. The jury was still out.

She played with her fork. "You're evading the issue again. Don't
talk
to Justin about kids. Just flush your pill down the toilet each day and get pregnant. Once you have his kid—you only need one—you're set for life."

"I can't believe you! I had no idea you were this cynical and mercenary!" I was only half kidding. I was shocked, though I probably shouldn't have been. Britt had always been practical and pragmatic about life. She'd been called an opportunist more than once.

Britt set the fork down. Her face was serious. "Not mercenary.
Practical
. You two got married for all the wrong reasons. And you know it."

That was true enough.

"You got drunk and he got horny. You were…well…we already discussed what you were. Sad. Depressed. Out to make a point to Eric. You didn't think anything through. Jus is young. Beneath that beard he probably still looks twelve. He's also a billionaire. Which makes him desirable no matter what he looks or acts like. Enough said. This
won't
last."

I was insulted. It was irrational. But it was what it was. I opened my mouth to protest.

She cut me off. "Don't bother arguing. I
hope
it lasts. But odds are it won't. You need to be smart about this and protect yourself. Get yourself a little bundle of baby insurance. You won't get another chance like this again."

I frowned, more upset than I liked to admit. She didn't know the terms of our agreement. When I left the marriage with "only" ten million, she would think I'd been screwed. And I could never set her straight.

"I haven't even changed my name yet and you're telling me to get pregnant!" I laughed, almost nervously. Britt knew me better than anyone, and I had the feeling she was seeing right through me. "My housekeeper thinks I'm out taking care of the name change this afternoon." I laughed like that was funny. "Jus said I could keep my maiden name."

Britt was going to get frown lines if she kept staring at me with that expression. "Don't even. Your housekeeper is right. Change your name immediately, the minute you leave this lunch. Integrate yourself into Justin's life as deeply as possible. Make it near to impossible for him to get you out of it. Change it this afternoon without telling him."

"I like my name."

She shook her head, as if I was being naïve. "Justin has been in love with you since he first saw you. I'm not terribly surprised he proposed marriage hours after seeing you again, even if he was totally drunk. It's you who I'm puzzled by. That damn Eric.

"Anyway, back to business. Change your name to Justin's now, while he's in the honeymoon phase. Do it as a surprise. If the past is any indication, he'll be ridiculously pleased you took his name. Most guys are. Deep down they like to caveman it and believe you’re their woman. They like the idea of ownership.

"Surprise him with the news tonight over a bottle of his favorite alcoholic beverage. Get him drunk again and make that baby you need." Her eyes danced. "Trust me on this one, Lala. I only have your best interests at heart.

"Oh, and while you're at it, sweet-talk him into making me a senior merch buyer at Flashionista. I've been dying to get in there. Half my team has abandoned me for the Flash, as they call it. They're ridiculously happy working for Justin. The Flash still has that innovative, fun startup vibe. We used to have it. But that was before my time. I'm dying to get out of the corporate atmosphere."

I rolled my eyes. "You're pimping me out for a job? Some friend! You could just apply."

"Is it pimping someone out when you ask them to sleep with their husband?" She winked. "The Flash is growing. But they're recruiting entry level. I should have gotten in earlier. I need a senior position." She smiled sweetly at me. "Friend, what do you say? You own half that company now."

I laughed. "Hardly!"

She looked at me, puzzled. "Come on! Don't give me some crap about a prenup. There couldn't have been time to sign one. They don't offer legal services at twenty-four-hour chapels now, do they?"

I'd almost messed up again! "Jus doesn't own the
whole
company. He has a partner and a boatload of shareholders. But I'll see what I can do."

She smiled. "Good! I've heard Justin and his partner Riggins are dreams to work for." She leaned across the table toward me. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but my former colleagues who work for the Flash call Justin the cute billionaire." She nodded, looking as if she enjoyed my shock.

"Of course they do! He's adorable," I said. And he was. Truly.

"When your marriage was announced, there were a lot of devastated girls at the Flash," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "If you want to keep him, watch your husband and keep him happy. A little thing like a quickie wedding won't stop some of those girls.

"That's another thing. Keep an eye on Flashionista. Take an active interest in it. It's right up your alley. Make yourself invaluable to the business. Don't make the mistake of ignoring your husband's business and being dumb about where he keeps his assets. Find out where he banks and where he stashes his investments. Be smart about this, Lala."

The waiter interrupted by serving our pizza. I was salivating over it and reaching for a pizza plate, totally distracted by thoughts of food, when I caught the silhouette of a man out of the corner of my eye. And caught a whiff of cologne I would recognize anywhere.

The man and that sexy cologne stopped at our table. "Kayla?"

I looked up into the devastatingly handsome face of Lazer Grayson.

K
ayla

My heart pounded. My pulse raced. My world lit up. If my life had been a movie, I would have started dancing and singing. Instead I stood and hugged him. "Lazer!"

He smiled into my eyes. His hands went to my waist. Friendly. Intimate. On the edge of decorum. And positively thrilling. I felt them as if they scorched. His face was inches from mine. Up close, his eyes were dark and dazzling. His smoothly shaved face sensual and crying out to be touched. I had to bunch my fist to resist stroking his cheeks.

He was dressed in a custom-made suit with lines so classic and simple it had to have cost thousands. The fabric was fine, soft high quality beneath my fingers. The way it moved was pure poetry written in summer wool. The shirt beneath the suit coat tapered to show off his trim abs and waist in a classic Italian silhouette. The buttons were mother-of-pearl and handsewn in invisible stitching, a hallmark of a certain Italian designer. He looked as if he'd just stepped out of a men's fashion shoot. He rattled me in ways I didn't want to admit to. I could barely think.

"Funny running into you here, princess-maker." I felt intoxicated and breathless in his presence.

His eyes danced. He seemed charmed that I was flirting with him. "They're working on it. You got your nondisclosure? I haven't seen you online playing."

My pulse fluttered. My heart and ego danced. He'd been watching for me online! "Not yet. I thought you got busy and forgot all about me." I couldn't have been more obvious if I'd batted my eyes at him. I couldn't help myself.

"How could I? You and Justin have been all over the news."

Was there an edge of regret in his voice? Whatever he felt, his comment brought me back to myself and the reality of my situation. I shouldn't be flirting with him. Especially not in front of Britt. I simply smiled.

"I'll follow up this afternoon. They've been swamped. Give them a few days. If you don't get an invitation by Monday or Tuesday, text me." He leaned in and whispered, "I've missed our gaming. The red room of game hasn't been the same since you left."

His comment made me ridiculously happy. "That's only because you beat me handily. I'm glad we ran into each other. What brings you here?"

He hitched a thumb over his shoulder toward the main campus of one of Seattle's biggest businesses. "Picking up a pizza to go. I had business with the everything store. It ran into my lunch hour. Such is the life of a businessman. Always eating on the go. What are you doing here? Besides the obvious?"

Britt cleared her throat.

I blushed. I'd been so captivated by Lazer, I'd screwed up my cover in front of Britt and her watching eyes. "Oh, sorry! I'm lunching with my best friend." I stepped out of his embrace, which had lasted longer than appropriate. "Lazer, this is Britt. Britt, meet Lazer Grayson."

She was eyeing him like quarry. I felt a stab of jealousy as I realized she was free to pursue him.
And I wasn't
. At the same time, I took great joy in the shocked and awed look on her face. She knew whom Lazer was, and was impressed.

"A pleasure." She flashed him her flirty smile.

To my relief, he smiled back politely, but didn't return the flirt.

A waiter recognized him and came over, carrying a pizza box. "Mr. Grayson, sorry about the wait! Here's your pie."

Lazer thanked the waiter, took his pizza, and flashed me a look of regret. "I have to run. I'll be in touch as soon as your princess is done. I want your approval before we release her into the wilds of the gaming world. We'll catch up soon! Promise." He winked and left me standing at the table, drooling after him.

"What is
going
on
between you two?"

I jumped at the sound of Britt's voice, realizing I was still standing when I should have been sitting. "Nothing. He's a friend of Justin's."

"Whoa. Talk about animal magnetism. It fairly drips off him. No wonder he's been voted Seattle's hottest bachelor so many times." Britt's eyes became thin and suspicious. "He's making you a princess, is he?"

"In a video game."

"Yeah, I figured." She paused and studied me. "No second thoughts, huh?
Liar.
"

There are people you can fool. And people you can't. Britt was one of the latter.

"I'm not sorry I married Jus." That much was true.

She sighed. "Snap judgment here—Lazer is too much like Eric, too damned hot for his own good. And he knows it. Love is partly in the mind. Convince yourself you're in love with Jus. Tell yourself how mad about him you are at every turn.

"Make a baby with him. Before you make a fool of yourself with Lazer Grayson." She slid a slice of pizza onto a plate. "Be careful. You're playing with fire. With a man like Lazer, it's impossible not to get scorched. Although I wouldn't mind giving it a try." She flashed me a devilish grin. "Invite me and him over sometime. Soon."

J
ustin

I don't scare easily, not after having gone through all the shit I've been through. But I was tense as I waited for the ID thief to make her next move. My facial-recognition software had been running for over fifteen hours and come up empty. It was still early days. I would get her yet.

After fighting traffic—an accident had blocked a lane of I-90 across the lake and snarled traffic—I was home later than expected. Magda was used to leaving something warming for me in the oven.

I braced myself before letting myself into the penthouse. Yesterday I'd come home to the unpleasant surprise of Mom grilling Kay. What would I find today? Nothing short of a demonic presence would surprise me. I wanted alone time. I had a surprise for Kay burning a hole in my pocket.

When I opened the door, the table was set for two. Candles flickered. Soft music played. Something smelled delicious. There was no Mom ready to pounce. And best of all, Kay greeted me with a brilliant smile. As if she was genuinely delighted to see me. For an instant, I let myself believe she was in love with me. That this whole damned mistake had turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. That there was no identity thief and no Lazer with his eye on her. I almost pulled the box in my pocket out for her right then.

Before I could, her gaze ran up and down me. Her brow puckered slightly. She broke into a grin, as if something about me amused her. As if there was an inside joke I was on the outside of. Yes, I was damned insecure. In business, I was completely in control. But love was another matter. I was all too aware of my inadequacies as a lover and romantic partner.

"You're home!" She slipped off the sofa and greeted me with a hug and a quick whisper of a kiss, just enough to tantalize me.

"Are we alone?" I whispered to her, the bulge in my pocket evident. I hoped she didn't feel it.

She laughed. She knew what I meant. Were we putting on a show? If we weren't, why were we kissing? Was this part of her method acting? Another routine to fall into so we looked authentic? Or was she trying to kill me?

"Completely and totally alone." She winked as she took my hand. "More method acting. I'm so afraid I'll slip out of character in public if I don't get used to playing the role twenty-four-seven. Even in private. My parents always kiss when they come home."

Mine didn't. But they usually worked together anyway. So there was my answer. Every day, I would get a quick welcome-home kiss that meant nothing more than a peck on the cheek. Every day, I would be in torment, wishing I knew how to make her fall in love with me. Wondering if a year, or a lifetime, was enough time.

She grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and playfully tugged it. "Jus," she said in an intimate, light tone that felt like a punch to the gut. I wanted her to love me so damn bad. "What is this?"

For an instant, I thought she'd spotted the box in my jeans pocket. I wasn't ready to spring it on her yet. I looked down to where her slender fingers, with their perfectly manicured nails, bright pink and expertly shaped, held my shirt. If I hadn't started Flashionista, her girly-ness would have been completely foreign to me. I grew up with two he-man brothers and a dad to match. Mom didn't care about her nails. "My favorite brown shirt."

Her eyes danced, and that smile played at the edges of her generous mouth in a way that both scared the shit out of me and brought up every insecurity I had. If she was laughing
at
me…

She grabbed the pocket of my green jeans. "And these?"

My heart raced again as I imagined her sticking her hand in and pulling out a ring box. "My green jeans."

She held my gaze and leaned into me until her breasts brushed against me. She seemed oblivious to my secret. "Jus, sweetie, I hate to break this to you, but these jeans are brown. A cool brown at that. Your shirt is a warm green. They clash, babe."

I could let her call me babe all day long. But she was wrong. "Magda's gotten hold of you and turned you against me."

I laughed, but I was irritated. I didn't give a shit about clothes. But I didn't appreciate the help turning my wife against me, either. My shirt and pants matched perfectly, color-wise. What else mattered? "She hates this outfit. I can't believe she turned you."

Kayla didn't answer. She was still staring at me, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed.

If we were going to talk about clothes, I was going to make a point, too. "And while we're talking about colors—why do you wear so much gray? You're so hot when you wear something vibrant."

She smiled slightly, cocked her head, dropped my hand, and took a step back from me. She pulled at her blouse. "You mean like this blouse?"

"Exactly like that." I nodded. "You should wear something brighter and colorful. I don't like gray."

"Jus, this is light pink." Her voice was soft. Her lips were moist and kissable. But her voice was determined and firm. "It's one of my favorite colors."

Why did everyone argue with me about colors?

When I didn't say anything, she touched my arm lightly. "What color is peanut butter?"

"That's random." I didn't get where she was going.

"It's totally pertinent. Just answer the question."

I shrugged, playing along. "It's green, of course."

"Oh, Jus," she said in that pitying tone of voice I hated.

"What?" I felt myself getting defensive.

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans and looked something up. A second later, she turned the phone around, showing me a picture of a jar of peanut butter. "Read the description."

"Rich peanutty flavor, deep tan color—" I stopped. Shit. In twenty-one years no one had thought to ask me the color of peanut butter, or debate it with me. Until Kay. She paid attention to the details of me. Which was more than I could say about anyone before I became a billionaire.

I swallowed. "Okay. Point made." I tamped down my frustration. I looked like a stupid fool. All my inadequacies surfaced. I'd been laughed at all my life for the colors I chose. It had never dawned on me there might be a genetic reason I'd been slow to learn my colors. My parents took that weakness as proof I was normal. I wasn't quick at everything, thank God.

She held my gaze. "This peanut butter looks green to you?"

I nodded, wondering if her eyes were really the beautiful lilac I saw. Or her hair the shiny blond I loved.

"Do you have trouble telling the difference between stoplights and streetlights at night? Are they the same color to you?"

"Yeah. Until I get close." Everything was making sense. I felt stupid. But why would I question how I saw the world? How would I really know the green I saw wasn't the green everyone saw? Or that stoplights didn't just get their color when you were almost beneath them? Yeah, I'd always thought it was crappy design, but what else was new?

"Jus, I think you're colorblind." Her voice was soft and sympathetic. "Have you ever been tested?"

"No." I shook my head and blamed my parents, who were always too busy with my sports hero brothers.

"No one ever noticed before?" She looked incredulous.

"I've been given every damn IQ test there is. No one cares about my artistic ability. They've always thought I'm either being contrary or eccentric in my color choices. Or just slow to learn them. Or developmentally behind artistically." My words came out sounding bitterer than I intended.

"There's a very good test we can take online. We had to take it in college at the start of one of my fine arts classes. The professor actually had a fourth color receptor and saw more colors than everyone else. Millions of colors. He wanted to make sure he understood his students' capabilities and limitations. He's a wise man."

I liked the way she used we.

"We'll take the test after dinner. I'm sure it will confirm what I suspect. I'm ninety-nine percent certain you're colorblind. It will tell us what kind of colorblind you are and how severe it is."

"So I'm color challenged?" I hung my head, hamming it up and making a play for her sympathy.

"It's not a disability." She laughed and tipped my chin up. "Not really. We all live in the same world, but we all experience it differently. What most people see as brown, you see as green—and vice versa. You're right. And we're right. The key is to understand our different perceptions and accept them."

She paused and got a devilish look in her eyes. "But you
are
going to have to let me dress you. Every single day. You have a reputation to maintain, especially now. People can be cruel. I won't have anyone making fun of you."

I laughed. "Let them try! I'm a rich techie. Caring about how I look will ruin my techie rep."

She took my cheek in her hand. "No, you're my scorching-hot billionaire husband. You run the company that sets fashion trends that girls everywhere melt over. You offer them the dream of designer, boutique clothes at fantastic prices they can afford. You have to be the face, and body, of it. You're the man every guy wants to be. And don't you ever forget it."

"You're talking about my partner Riggins."

"I'm talking about you." She dropped her hand from my face. I felt the absence of her touch as an immediate loss. Kay was the only person who took the time to see and accept me. I loved her even more for that, wishing she would take her own wise words and see me as the guy who would never betray her. As the guy who would treat her right.