To Have and to Hold (7 page)

Jus grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "You tell it better than I do."

I raised an eyebrow, ready to kill him. "People prefer to hear it from the groom's mouth. What possesses a guy to propose just hours after seeing a girl for the first time in years?" I really wanted to know. More accurately, I wanted to know what possessed him to marry the imposter.

He froze. I was enjoying his discomfort. Let him be firmly in the hot seat in my life for once. Let him make up stories without tripping up. And have his life totally interrupted. And really have to act instead of disappearing into life as normal.

He smiled at me, so deeply it reached his eyes, before he focused his attention on Mom. "Have you ever had a friend that you don't see often, but whenever you do, you connect? It's as if you haven't been apart. You feel as close as ever."

Mom leaned forward, listening with rapt attention. She and Dad both nodded.

"That's what it's like between Kay and me. Only deeper. More passionate. When I spotted her in the hotel, I had to ask her to out for a drink. When I found out she was single, I knew I had to seize my opportunity to catch her between guys or lose her. I knew it was right. I didn't have time to think it out or plan something romantic. As we were leaving the restaurant, I couldn't let her go. I just blurted out, 'We feel right together. Let's get married. Tonight. In this perfect moment.' And she agreed."

Crap, he was good. My parents turned to me for confirmation. Mom had tears in her eyes. Dad still looked skeptical.

"Kayla?" Mom asked.

"What can I add? It was simple and sweet." I smiled as if I couldn't be happier, and leaned my head on his shoulder.

Mom studied me. "It's not how you used to describe your perfect marriage proposal."

"When you find the right one, any proposal he makes is perfect." I wasn't sure I believed that. But Mom seemed to buy it.

After dinner, Jus helped clear the dishes, just like family.

Mom whispered to me, "He's certainly blossomed. He's obviously in love with you. I always admit when I'm wrong. Well, I was wrong. Seeing him with my own eyes, I understand how he could sweep you off your feet in an evening. Just his voice!" She looked upward and sighed in that way women do when they're in love with something.

My parents weren't superficial, shallow people. They weren't suckers for praise or shameless flattery. They usually saw right through it. And disdained and mocked it later in private. Jus was just good. Genuinely considerate and kind. Personable. For their part, Mom and Dad were trying hard and giving him every benefit of the doubt. For my sake, I realized. They wanted to love him because I'd "chosen" him, at least as far as they knew.

They were also generally concerned, considerate parents who had a history of accurately assessing friends and boyfriends. They tried to warn me off Eric the very first time they met him, way before he became a total douchebag. In eighth grade, they warned me my new bestie was out for herself and would turn out to be a backstabber. Time, and not much of it, proved them right.

That they were falling for Jus sent me into a guilty panic. I tried to tamp it down.

"I got something special for dessert," Mom said. "You two have a seat while I bring it out. Don, get the champagne Justin sent with the flowers. Would anyone like coffee, too?"

"I'll get the coffee, Mom." I started to get out of my seat.

"No, just sit! I'll get everything." She seemed excited about something. Mom disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared carrying a nine-inch layered wedding cake topped with a ceramic bride and groom. The groom held the bride in his arms while the bride stared lovingly into his eyes and touched his face. She set the cake on the table before us. "Happy one-week anniversary!"

Crap. It was our purported one-week anniversary.

"Mom, that's beautiful. You shouldn't have," I said, trying to beat Jus to the punch.

"I wanted to see my baby girl cut her cake. Hang on!" She disappeared and returned carrying a silver tray, her best china dessert plates, pink napkins, and a silver knife and cake server with perfect ribbon bows tied around them. "Those are the serving set from
our
wedding." She was beaming.

Jus had passed some kind of test, obviously. If he hadn't, I doubted we'd have gotten the cake and the use of her sentimental cake knife and server.

Dad walked in from the kitchen behind her, carrying a bottle of expensive champagne and four champagne flutes, two tied with bows around their stems and engraved. He set the engraved flutes in front of us. They had our names and our wedding date on them. I got a lump in my throat. I hadn't expected this.

"Wait! Let me get my camera." Mom hurried off to get it, returning a second later as if she'd had it ready and waiting nearby. "Okay, you two newlyweds. Cut the cake!"

"I think we need to stand for this." Jus pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me, grabbing the cake knife so that we both held it. He poised it over the cake.

"Hold that pose!" Mom said. "Let me get a few stills of you. Then I'm going to record."

My heart hammered in my ears as I smiled for the camera, trying desperately to look like a woman who was desperately in love. My mouth was dry. If I hadn't felt so guilty, I might even have enjoyed myself.

"Got it! Cut the cake." Mom kept the camera on us.

"Ready?" Jus whispered in my ear.

He smelled good. His arms were strong and steady around me. I pushed my fears aside and let his solid, square hands guide mine as we sliced into the cake. And awkwardly flopped a piece on one of Mom's dessert plates. And got frosting all over our fingers as the slice nearly slid off onto the floor and we caught it together.

As I reached for a napkin to wipe my fingers, Jus grabbed my hand and pulled into to his mouth, sucking the frosting off my fingers before I could pull away. Caressing them with his hot tongue.

"Very romantic and sweet," Mom said, still filming. "But frosting doesn't count as the first bite. Lala, feed Justin a piece of cake."

Crap. I was still tingling from the way he'd sucked my fingers and thrust his tongue between them, knowing I wouldn't squirm in front of my parents.

I played along. Determined to get him back, I broke off a small piece and held it between my fingers. "Open wide, babe."

I grinned evilly. Let him feel the fear. What would I do? How would I play this cake feeding to make it different from the one at Lazer Lodge? Feeding each other cake defined the tone of your marriage. Were you light and playful? Serious and classy? Out to get each other? Did you stuff it in each other's face? Delicately, lovingly feed each other? Joke around? Use a fork? Or the intimacy of your fingers?

I was already using my fingers. His gaze held mine as he, too, took a bite of cake in hand. Yes, we were at each other's mercy.

I should have looked away. But I was mesmerized. His hand reached toward my mouth. Mine toward his. As if we were playing a game of wedding cake chicken. I knew instinctively he would mimic what I did. At the last second, I went for classy and loving, and set the cake gently on his tongue. And he did the same.

My bite was a little too large for my mouth. As I put my hand beneath my chin to catch any falling crumbs, Jus wiped a blob of frosting from his finger onto my nose.

Dad laughed. Mom clapped.

I would have protested. If I hadn't had a mouthful of cake. Which I was sure was the intent. Jus grabbed me and dipped me over his arm, giving me a dramatic kiss. When he pulled me back up, he wiped the frosting off my nose.

"You have crumbs in your beard." I shouldn't have laughed. But he was manipulating me in such a funny, charming way.

Dad poured champagne. When everyone had a glass, he lifted his to us. "To Kayla and Justin. May they always be as much in love as they are today!"

Oh, Daddy. You don't know how much you just cursed us.

Mom gently pushed us out of the way and began cutting cake. "This is just a dry run for your reception. We desperately need to plan one, Lala."

I paled and broke out in a cold sweat as I pictured my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins toasting us. Bringing us gifts I'd have to return in a year. I mean, if a marriage only lasts a year, wasn't it polite to return the presents? I would have to look it up. I pictured Jus charming them, worming his way into their good graces only to betray them later.

I felt the noose tightening. My independence slipping away. Mom was still chattering on about plans. "No!" I shook my head, vehement. "No! No reception."

"Kayla Marie! What's wrong with you?" Mom stared at me as if I were an alien being.

I'd never liked betraying people. "No. People will feel obligated to bring presents. And we don't need anything. Even if we tell them not to, they will. No. I just don't…no." I began shaking so badly I had to set my champagne down.

Jus was the only one who understood. I threw myself into his arms, fighting back a sob. He cradled me tenderly, running his fingers through my hair and gently murmuring reassurances.

I'd never had an anxiety attack before, but this sure felt like one. "This is why we eloped!" I said into his shirt. "To avoid all the hassles of a wedding. Being a billionaire, Jus is in a unique situation. People expect more, more of everything for a billionaire's wedding. The press wants a piece. And ordinary people, like our friends and family, feel out of their element. No. I won't put people through it."

I tore away enough to look at Mom and Dad. "We don't want to put you through the expense and hassle. Please." I gulped. My voice sounded tiny. "No reception."

Mom's stunned expression turned to admiration. It was as if a light bulb had gone off for her. Ah-hah! Now she understood why I'd eloped. I had a logical reason, good rationale. That made me look mature and selfless. And as if I wasn't mercenary at all. My panic and guilt had just made me look like a good, considerate person.

Jus nodded. "Kay and I are united in this."

Mom nodded. "Okay then. No more talk of it. For now. The rest of the family will want to meet you someday, Justin." She was smiling as if she was proud of me. "When are you two taking your honeymoon?"

A vacations sounds good,
I thought. Jus and I needed some time to get to know each other.

"We haven't made any plans yet." Jus sounded so casual. "As soon as I can break away, which may not be until fall. But will have to be before the holiday season. Once that hits, I'll wish I didn't need to sleep."

"Where are you thinking of?" Mom said. "Europe in the fall is beautiful—"

Dad cut in. "They'll figure it out, Debbie. Who's up for a rousing board game?" He named the game that had nearly ended my parents' marriage less than a month after the wedding.

"Sounds great!" Jus said before I could stop him.

He couldn't know the history. Unless his cyber snooping had told him that, too.

"Nice try, Dad," I said. "I think Jus has passed enough of your tests tonight. I'm not playing that game with Jus. Not ever. Are you trying to drive us to divorce court?"

Dad laughed.

Jus gave me a puzzled look.

"You almost walked into a trap." I gave him the condensed version of what had happened.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Bring it on. We're up for it."

"No. We're not. Jus, we don't have to prove ourselves."

An evil thought crossed my mind. Wouldn't it be fun to play that particular fight-inducing game the day before our divorce and then blame our breakup on it? Wouldn't Mom and Dad feel guilty then?

Eh. They'd probably just say we should have played tonight, at the beginning, before wasting time on a doomed relationship. That how you treated each other while you played told a lot about a relationship.

J
ustin

"What were you doing in there?" Kayla threw her hands up as we pulled out of her parents' driveway.

"What do you mean?" I cringed, genuinely puzzled. Why was she upset with
me
? The evening had been a success as far as I could tell. I'd done all the socially expected things.

"Going all charming on my parents. Sending them
flowers
." Emphasis as if flowers was a dirty word. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes like I'd committed a capital crime against floral arrangements. Sent them into a war zone or something equally heinous. "You weren't supposed to be
that
nice to them!"

"I wasn't being
that
nice. Just considerate. People bring flowers when they go to someone's house for dinner."

"Yeah. Bring. Not send horribly expensive arrangements thoughtfully picked to complement the hostess' décor."

I still didn't understand her wrath. "I thought that's what you wanted?"

She sighed as if she was totally exasperated with me. As if I were a complete douche. "Polite and distant. You were supposed to be
polite
and
distant
. That's it.
Nothing
more. Nothing extraordinary."

"I wasn't being extraordinary. I picked a very reasonably priced arrangement. I made an effort not to go wild and send them something so expensive they'd be embarrassed to accept it. And I only had it delivered because I didn't have time to go shopping myself. Ordering from a website is a hell of a lot less thoughtful than picking something out in person. It's so easy, it's practically selfish. Have credit card, will shop online."

She made a growling sound in the back of her throat and gave me a death glare an evil emperor would have been proud of.

Sometimes arguments, over totally silly shit, just spiral out of control. We were still going round and round about my behavior, neither of us seeing the other's point of view, as we walked into the penthouse.

Kayla ignored Data when she came running, barking happily to greet us.

I scooped Data up. "Come on, Kay. You're not being fair. Any other couple would consider the evening a success.
I
think it
was
a success. We fooled your parents. We won them over. They're on our side. They believe this marriage is real. That's what we want."

"That's what
you
want." Her voice was hard as she took off her sweater and tossed it over the back of the sofa.

"Be reasonable—"

She spun and faced me. "This is on
your
head. I asked you to be polite. Be pleasant. But keep your distance.
You
had to go over the top. You had to be as competitive as they are. You just had to ingratiate yourself with them. Had to impress them. Don't you see?"

Her eyes were fierce. Her face was set. "I love them. For all their faults, they're
my
parents. I don't want to see them get hurt. Not them. Nor my grandparents. Nor my cousins. But especially not Mom and Dad. They're the ones who are going to ache for me when this"—she pointed between her and me—"this
thing
is over.

"You're not supposed to be the lovable billionaire son-in-law that broke my heart. Who got away. I'm not supposed to be the villain here. When all is said and done,
you are
."

The venom in her voice stung.

I took a deep breath. I'd screwed up again. "Kay, I'm sorry. I thought I was just being polite."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me so hard that Data dug in and whimpered in my arms.

I scratched her chin. "She's not scolding you, girl."

Kayla's face softened. She threw up her hands. "Sending Mom her favorite flowers? That's not playing up to them? How in the world did you know, anyway? Are you cyber-stalking my life and family?"

"Cyber-stalk? Come on, Kay. Give me some credit." I swallowed hard. "I have an incredibly good memory and I pay attention." Unlike some people. "I remember everything you've told me about them."

I had no other defense. My ears picked up when her cousin Dex talked about Kayla's family, their house, their vacation. I remembered the pictures she'd shown me in college.

I was a creepy freak. A rich douche. A guy who had no clue about girls.

Her face softened. "I told you what Mom's favorite flowers are?"

I nodded. "In college. You were trying to decide if you should get her some for Mom's Weekend."

Her eyes went wide. "And their house?" She faltered. "How did you know how it was decorated?"

"You showed me pictures when they were remodeling."

"Crap!" She frowned like she was trying to remember. Suddenly her face cleared. "I did, didn't I? I'd forgotten."

I shrugged, trying to be the bigger man.

She took a deep breath and put the back of her hand to her head. "I'm sorry, Jus. This is all so confusing. I'm overreacting. Thinking about a reception and fooling everyone I love just sent me over the edge."

"It's okay," I said. "We're just feeling our way through this. We'll get better at it."

She gave me a small smile and blinked back tears, probably of frustration. With me.

She nodded. "You're right. Thanks for backing me up about the reception. I didn't really even ask what you think. Do you want a reception?"

I shook my head. "Not if you don't."

She nodded again. "Good. Thanks." She paused. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

I shook my head. "I have work to do."

She frowned. I'd stepped in it again.

"Working on Friday night?" She snorted softly and shook her head like she didn't understand me at all.

The feeling was mutual.

She stared at me like I was an alien being from the planet Weirdo. "Are you twenty-one or forty?"

Her question took me aback. "Billion-dollar retail empires don't run themselves."

She shook her head. "You should be drinking. And partying. And chasing girls. Jus, you shouldn't even be out of college yet."

I swallowed hard.
Shit.
In her eyes, I was a baby. "Is that what you
want
me to be doing? Acting like I'm some immature frat guy?" Her accusation hit me hard. I spat the words out without thinking. "You want me to be like Eric?"

Her face fell.

I wanted to take the words back the moment I spoke them.

She shook her head. "I have no right to judge. I don't understand your world. I have no idea what it takes to do what you do. The thought of all that responsibility is too much." She hesitated. "When
is
your birthday?"

No, she really wouldn't understand how I knew so much about her. She'd obviously paid no attention to me. Maybe I
was
obsessed with her. "August twenty-second. It's my golden birthday this year. Twenty-two on the twenty-second. Or my champagne birthday, as Mom says. She's big into finding special significance in every birthday she can. She likes birthdays."

Kay actually smiled a little, but it looked sad. "You're such a nerd, Jus." She took a step toward me, took my face in her hands, and gave me a kiss. "Always kiss goodnight. Even when you're upset with each other," she whispered.

I loved her. More than ever. I'd meant what I'd said about our supposed proposal. With Kayla, things felt right. I wished she would see it that way. I wanted her to kiss me goodnight every night. Not just as part of a routine. Or to keep up pretenses. But because she wanted to. Because she loved me.

"Goodnight, Jus."

Data barked. Kayla reached over and scratched her head. When Data barked again, still not satisfied with the level of affection she was getting, Kay bent and let Data give her a licky dog kiss, laughing infectiously. She stood up straight and grinned at me. "Aren't you glad I kissed you first?"

"I don't know," I said. "I like dog kisses."

She laughed again and walked away with that sexy-as-hell sway of hers.

I put Data in her bed, went into my office, and closed the door. I sat at my desk, thinking. I'd been avoiding going to bed at the same time as Kayla. I'd been intentionally sleeping next to her as little as possible, going to bed after she was asleep. Getting up before she did. Part of the reason was my impossible schedule and my quest to find the ID thief. The rest was my insecurity.

I spent my nights wide awake, wanting to touch her. I slept with a hard-on. I woke with a hard-on. I balled my fists so hard they hurt, and my short nails dug into my palms, all to keep from touching her. I went to bed late and got up early to hide my horniness from her.

Commercials for male vitality say you should see your doctor if you have an erection lasting more than four hours. Mine lasted twenty-four-seven when I was around Kay. That was how it felt, anyway. Maybe I needed treatment. What the hell did they do for a perpetual boner, anyway? For a guy who was hopelessly in love with a girl who couldn't see how good he would be to her and was way out of his league?

I was as sexually frustrated and horny as any guy on the planet. Hell, maybe the universe.

I was trying to respect the terms of our agreement. Show her I respected her. And, if I was being honest, I couldn't face being vulnerable with her again. Not until I had a hint that she reciprocated my feelings, even the slightest bit. That she felt
some
sexual attraction to me.

I was still stung from the time in college when I'd made a move on her. An awkward move. She put me in my place. Gently. But definitely firmly. It was embarrassing as hell.

I had another insecurity. I was still a virgin. A virgin who'd studied the subject in all the detail guys will. Who'd read enough how-to, I hoped to have some clue what I was doing. But instruction manuals only go so far. And she'd slept with the
masterful
Eric for years. The stud, as she'd described him more times than I liked to remember.

Call me an accidental virgin. It's not as if I hadn't wanted to get laid. It's more like I'd failed in the attempts. I never really dated. Who wanted to date a boyish nerd? And sleep with one? Shit, not the kind of girl I wanted. Once I started Flash, I was too busy to worry about women. Now I was paying the price of inexperience.

I could go to a prostitute. Get a high-class call girl. Wouldn't that be a great story for the gossip-hungry press? Seattle's biggest nerd can't get laid. Arrested for solicitation a week after wedding on a whim.

Kay would kill me. And divorce me. Leaving me and Flash to the mercy of that ID bitch.

So I lived with my twenty-four-hour boner and my hope that Kayla would fall in love with me, wishing I could tell her how I felt about her. That the last week had only rekindled what I'd felt for her in college. That she made me smile. Made my heart race. Made my day. That we were perfectly suited to each other. If only she would see it. I waited for the day closer to our first anniversary when I could make my move. And withstand the rejection if she walked out on me.

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a romantic greeting card I'd bought to give Kayla with her wedding ring. At the last minute, I'd decided it was too much. But now I had things to tell her. Things she had to know before she divorced me. I grabbed a pen and began to write.

As I poured out my thoughts, the facial recognition running on my computer came up with a match to my face and the bar I'd been at with the Kayla imposter. My heart skidded to a stop. My mouth went dry as I stared into the face of the woman I'd actually married.

Shit.
I took a long, deep breath to calm my excitement.

Once I neutralized the threat of this woman, I would go after Kay.

K
ayla

Jus got up early and went to the office Saturday morning. He woke me to tell me he was leaving and give me a goodbye kiss.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Don't forget. We have Britt's party tonight."

"I'm not going to spend the whole day at the office. Just a few hours. I have a couple of things to take care of. I'll be back early this afternoon. I promise."

I nodded and fell back to sleep. After I got up and showered, I went to the closet where my clothes, the few I'd managed to cram in, were stuffed into a tiny corner behind rows of jeans and crap. The rest of my things were still on the red chair or in my suitcases.

I stared at that closet, getting angrier and angrier. I was tired of being plucked out of my life and dropped into Justin's without any thought. Without any consideration for my needs. Without feeling like I belonged. I deserved a spot in it, a real place. And enough of the closet so I didn't feel like a squatter for the remainder of our marriage.

I furiously attacked Justin's closet. When I was through with it, it would be organized, I would have plenty of room, and Jus would have a decent wardrobe and system for picking out clothes without my help.

I pulled a lightweight jacket out and frowned. Whoever thought this was fashionable needed a lesson in style. I rolled my eyes. Ophie had probably picked it out.

Before I tossed it onto the donate pile, I went through the pockets. Was I hoping for cash? I laughed to myself. Maybe.

No cash, but I pulled a sealed greeting card envelope out of the breast pocket, thinking it was something Justin had forgotten to mail.

To My Wife Kayla, to be read the day before our divorce.

My pulse raced. What treasure was this? Or was it a curse? The card shook in my hand. A war raged inside me. To open? Or not?