Книга - Secrets of the Tycoon’s Bride / The Executive’s Surprise Baby: Secrets of the Tycoon’s Bride

Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride / The Executive's Surprise Baby: Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride
Catherine Mann

Emilie Rose


Be swept away by passion… with intense drama and compelling plots, these emotionally powerful reads will keep you captivated from beginning to end.Secrets of the Tycoon’s Bride Emilie Rose He needed a wife – a perfect, respectable wife – fast! And Lauryn Lowes was the ideal candidate. A natural beauty with brains, Lauryn already worked for Adam. Only Lauryn turned his “proposal” down flat and the bachelor billionaire suddenly became even more determined to capture her!The Executive’s Surprise Baby Catherine Mann Telling her high-society family she was about to be an unwed mother had been tough. Brooke planned to keep the paternity secret…then millionaire hotel mogul Jordan Jefferies learned the truth. Nothing would stop him from claiming his child. Or from making Brooke his wife.THE GARRISONS Unlimited power…unforeseen pleasure







Secrets of the Tycoon’s Brideby Emilie Rose

ANOTHER GARRISONOFF THE MARKET?

Ladies, brace yourselves! Our sources report that consummate bachelor Adam Garrison, the youngest male Garrison, is all but engaged. He was spotted at an upscale bistro with what our witness called “a rather plain blonde who appears to have stolen his heart.” She wasn’t sporting a ring, but our insider says it’s only a matter of time. The source overheard an exchange between Adam and an elder socialite where he almost confirmed as much.


The Executive’s Surprise Babyby Catherine Mann

AND THE FATHER IS…

There’s been speculation for months surrounding the unnamed father of Brooke Garrison’s love child. Well, a source close to the Garrison family revealed exclusively to us that the father is none other than (drum roll, please…) Jordan Jefferies. That’s right! The multi-millionaire investor and, more importantly, Garrison family rival, got cosy with the high-society brunette last summer. Our insider reveals that the pair have not seen each other intimately since that one-time romp and that Brooke has repeatedly declined Jordan’s marriage offers.

No word yet on Parker’s reaction – Brooke’s big brother – when he heard the news. Looks like another scandal is about to erupt for the Garrisons.


EMILIE ROSE

lives in North Carolina with her college sweetheart husband and four sons. Writing is Emilie’s third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include quilting, gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). Her favourite TV shows include ER, CSI and Discovery Channel’s medical programmes. Emilie’s a country music fan, because she can find an entire book in almost any song.

Letters can be mailed to:

Emilie Rose

PO Box 20145

Raleigh, NC 27619, USA

E-mail: EmilieRoseC@aol.com



Dear Reader,

This book was extra special for me because it gave hubby and me the perfect excuse to take our first real adults-only vacation in years. Research! We left our four sons and the dog behind – the boys didn’t miss us but the dog did :) – and travelled to South Beach. We even took a short cruise – our first – to the Bahamas.

South Beach was nothing like the laid-back North Carolina beaches I usually visit, but I did my best to give you a slice of the atmosphere. So when you get to the part about South Beach coffee shops selling condoms, they do!

I hope you can kick back, imagine the sand beneath your toes and palm fronds stirring above your head in a brisk ocean breeze and enjoy Lauryn and Adam’s story.

Best,

Emilie





Secrets of the Tycoon’s Bride


EMILIE ROSE




The Executive’s Surprise Baby


CATHERINE MANN




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




SECRETS OF THE TYCOON’S BRIDE


by

Emilie Rose


To my husband for never saying no.

Heaven knows I’ve given you plenty of reasons

and opportunities to do so.

You spoil me rotten.

Don’t think I haven’t noticed.


One

Lauryn Lowes would make him a perfect wife because he didn’t love her and wasn’t attracted to her.

Hell, Adam Garrison realized, he barely knew her.

Their bi-weekly meetings since she’d started working for him seven months ago had never allowed time for get-to-know-you chatter. She worked days when the club was closed, and he worked nights when Estate was open. He knew little about her except what he’d read on her job application.

A tap on his open door revealed the woman in question. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come in, Lauryn. Close the door. Have a seat.”

She did as he instructed and perched on the edge of the visitor chair in front of his desk.

According to his lawyer, who happened to be Adam’s best friend and someone whose judgment Adam trusted, Lauryn was the perfect wife candidate.

Adam’s leather chair creaked as he leaned back to make his own assessment. Lauryn wasn’t bad-looking. Bland. No makeup. Pale-blond hair which she always kept pinned up. An intelligent and independent worker. Otherwise he never would have hired her to handle his nightclub’s multimillion-dollar books.

“Is something wrong? This isn’t our usual meeting day.” Lauryn pushed the narrow rectangles of her tortoiseshell glasses up her straight nose, and then with slender, ringless fingers adjusted the longish skirt of her boring navy suit.

He’d never noticed her hands before. But then he’d never considered those hands touching him. Intimately. Her short, unpainted nails were a far cry from the lacquered claws the majority of women in his life preferred.

Besides a manicure, she’d need new clothing to carry off this charade. Maybe contacts. Better shoot for a complete makeover. Otherwise no one would believe he’d chosen her out of all the fashion models and celebrities who frequented Estate and/or his bed.

He had his pick of women. Just not the type he needed for this assignment. The council already considered him a playboy. His female equivalent would not help his cause. Lauryn was far from a party girl. If she’d dated at all in the past months no one on the staff knew it. He’d asked. Discreetly, of course.

She shifted in her chair, reminding him he hadn’t answered her question. That was something else he’d always admired about her. She knew how to be quiet instead of chattering endlessly.

“Nothing’s wrong, Lauryn. In fact, I’d like to offer you a raise and a…promotion of sorts.” He punctuated that with what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. Whether for her or for himself, he couldn’t say.

God knows he had reservations about this plan. He was only thirty and he liked being single. Between witnessing his parents’ far-from-perfect union and his front-row seat to the nightly dating safaris at the club, he’d never planned to marry for any reason, but he couldn’t see any other way to achieve his goals.

He wanted a bigger stake in the family business and there was only one way short of murdering his two older brothers to get it. He had to gain their respect. His father had died unexpectedly in June, and here it was the first of November, and Parker and Stephen still hadn’t given Adam more responsibility in Garrison, Inc., because they didn’t take him seriously. Frustration burned Adam’s stomach.

Lauryn’s smooth brow furrowed. “I’m confused. I’m Estate’s only accountant. How can I get a promotion? Are you planning to hire an assistant for me? Because I assure you, Mr. Garrison, I can handle the workload. I don’t need help.”

“Adam,” he corrected not for the first time. She never relaxed around him. In fact, she always seemed on edge, and he didn’t know why. People—women in particular—liked him. More than one reviewer had attributed Estate’s popularity to Adam’s charm. He knew how to work a crowd, how to make guests feel welcome and want to return.

Of course, he’d never tried to charm Lauryn Lowes. She was an employee and that was a line he’d never crossed. But he would today.

“The president of the Miami Business Council is retiring next year. As you may have heard, it’s a pretty conservative group.”

She nodded.

“I’ve been an active member for years, but the council’s not willing to entertain the idea of a single guy—especially one who runs a scandalous South Beach nightclub—being in charge no matter how qualified he might be.”

“You mean you want to run for president?”

The surprise in her voice stung like salt in a fresh wound. “Yes. And the only way for me to have a chance at that nomination is to become the stable, settled guy they require. I won’t give up Estate. That means I need to acquire a wife.”

Her look of confusion grew. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You’re the perfect candidate.”

She blinked once, twice, a third time. “To be your wife?”

“Yes.”

She sat back in the chair, her posture stiffer than usual. After a few moments an uncertain smile wobbled on her lips. “I—I—You’re joking. Right?”

Nice lips, he noted. Pale pink. No lipstick. Not collagen enhanced.

Natural. That’s it. Lauryn’s a natural.

Too bad that would have to change.

“No.” He leaned forward and pulled the file pertaining to this merger from the stack on the side of his desk. “Brandon Washington—you’ve met my attorney—has drawn up the necessary paperwork. I’ll pay you five hundred thousand per year for two years plus reasonable living expenses. After that we’ll quietly divorce. We’ll have a contract and a prenuptial agreement. What’s yours stays yours including any gifts I buy you. What’s mine stays mine.”

Extracting the relevant documents, he pushed the pages across the polished wood surface toward her. She didn’t take them. “You’re welcome to have your attorney look over the agreement.”

Tightening her grip on the arms of the chair, she eyed the papers like she would a hungry gator. “You actually expect me to agree to this…proposition?”

“You’ll be paid a million dollars to do nothing for two years. Why wouldn’t you accept?”

“Because I don’t love you?”

A little surprised by her reluctance, he shrugged. He could think of several dozen women who’d jump at this chance, but they weren’t the type he needed.

“I don’t love you, either, but it’s an advantageous match for each of us and a sound business decision. You’ll move into my loft and I’ll buy you a new car. Maybe a Mercedes or a Volvo wagon. We need to give the impression we’d like to start a family soon.”

Eyes wide with shock, she made a choking sound. “A family?”

“We won’t of course, but we need to play the part.”

“Part?” she echoed.

Lauryn’s quick grasp of details was one of the things he’d liked about her at that first interview and in subsequent meetings. But she wasn’t picking up quickly now. He stifled his impatience. “The picture of domestic bliss. Stable. Settled. Rooted in the community.”

She shook her head as if bewildered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t wrap my brain around this. You’re seriously asking me to marry you?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Garrison—Adam—” Her lips stretched in a fleeting and clearly forced smile. “I’m not the woman for this…position.”

“I think you are. You’re poised, articulate and conservative. You’re exactly what—who—I need, Lauryn.”

Although she flushed at his compliments, the words didn’t ease the starch from her spine. Biting her bottom lip between straight white teeth, she rose. Her fingers knotted so tightly at her waist that her knuckles gleamed white in the overhead fluorescent light.

“I am extremely flattered by your, um…proposal, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Lauryn—”

She gasped and worry pleated her brow. “My refusal isn’t going to cost me my job, is it?”

“Of course not. What kind of jerk do you think I am? But if you marry me you’ll be too busy doing whatever it is South Beach socialites do to put in a forty-hour workweek here.”

He came around the desk and stopped just inches from her. For the first time he noticed her scent. She smelled like the night-blooming vines growing on his condo neighbor’s patio with an additional kick of something spicy and alluring mixed in. “Consider it a two-year paid vacation. Pampering, shopping—”

“But I enjoy my job. And I like working. I’m sorry, but no thank you. I’m sure you can find someone else who—”

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

She snapped to attention at his adamant tone and lifted a trembling hand to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Adam intercepted, curling his fingers around hers. A spark ignited on contact. He blamed it on the knowledge he was crossing the employee/employer line by touching her and invading her space. Always a risky proposition in this litigious age.

He removed her glasses with his other hand. She had extraordinary eyes. Brighter than olives. Darker than grass. The exact shade of the waters off Miami’s coast.

His pulse quickened and his mouth moistened.

Because of what’s at stake, he told himself.

He sure as hell wasn’t attracted to his mousy bookkeeper. But not being repelled by her was good. Considering…

“I’d be a good husband.” His voice came out huskier than intended. He cleared his throat and continued. “I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

A beat later her eyes widened. “You’re saying we’d sleep together?”

“Maybe not sleep. I like my space. I have a study we can convert into a bedroom for you. You’ll have privacy when you need it. But for appearances’ sake this must appear to be a normal marriage in every way.”

“But you’d expect sex. With me.” She didn’t sound as if she relished the idea and that pricked his pride. He was good in bed, dammit. He’d been perfecting his technique since he was sixteen. And he never left a woman unsatisfied.

“Definitely. We’ll be together for two years. That’s a long time to be celibate. Infidelity would negate the purpose of the union by showing I couldn’t be trusted.”

She gaped for a full ten seconds and then yanked her hand free, plucked her glasses from his grasp and backed toward the door. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

She was turning him down? When had a woman ever turned him down? Hell, when had he ever even had to voice an invitation? Usually he cocked an eyebrow and his choice for the night rushed forward to do whatever he asked. Whatever he wanted.

He had to change Lauryn’s mind. She was the right woman for the job—an outsider who wouldn’t spill all his secrets to the very community of people he was trying to fool. She was smart enough to pull this off, and the timing was too tight for him to search for another candidate. The final slate of business council nominees would be proposed in six months. That meant he needed to prove his stability now.

“Name your price, Lauryn.”

“I don’t have a price. And I think I’d better go.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Don’t, Mr. Garrison. Don’t call. Not about…this.”

This wasn’t going well. “Besides the money, think of the advantages—”

“Of selling my body?”

“—of being my wife. Of being one of the Garrisons of Miami. Doors will open for you.”

She gurgled a disgusted sound. “I don’t care about getting into A-list nightclubs. I’m not even awake when they’re open.”

She tilted her head and appraised him through narrowed eyes. The angle revealed the pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of her slender neck. Her ivory skin looked smooth not sunbaked or covered with sprayed-on tan. Was she as pale all over?

“I suppose it’s because of your family’s wealth and power that you believe you can buy anyone or anything. Like a wife. Or the presidency of the business council.”

Damn. “Lauryn—”

She held up a hand. “You should stop now. Before this becomes harassment. Surely your attorney warned you about that?”

Oh yeah. Brandon had warned him in the same breath he’d insisted Lauryn was The One. That warning was the only reason Adam hadn’t planted a hot kiss on Lauryn’s lips to prove to her that he could please her in bed. But he would never convince her that the marriage could work when she was in this frame of mind. Time for a strategic withdrawal.

“Let me remind you of the confidentiality agreement you signed as part of your employment contract. Anything related to my business, and that includes my strategy to win the Business Council nomination, does not leave this room.”

“No one would believe me if I told them Adam Garrison tried to buy a wife. But don’t worry. I won’t blab unless you make that necessary.” She hustled out, closing the door behind her.

Adam shoved a hand through his hair, expelled a frustrated breath and dropped back into his desk chair. He was used to women chasing him—not running from him as if he’d suddenly announced he had the avian flu.

As one of the heirs to the Garrison hospitality and entertainment empire he was a great catch. All the society columns and his tax returns said so. Not only did his family have deep pockets, but Adam’s personal investments had exponentially increased his net worth. Add in his recently inherited fifteen percent of Garrison, Inc. and saying he was financially comfortable would be a gross understatement.

And he’d seen a mirror. He wasn’t ugly.

So why wasn’t Lauryn biting?

There must be something she wanted. Something he could use for leverage.

All he had to do was find it.

The man had to be crazy.

Lauryn placed her purse, car keys and glasses on the kitchen counter of her minuscule apartment and then headed for the bedroom, tugging the pins from her hair as she went.

A marriage of convenience.

What was this? A romance novel? She read them. But she didn’t live them.

Admittedly, she’d moved to Florida specifically to befriend Adam Garrison.

But she didn’t want to marry him.

He was a known womanizer who dangled a different celebrity or socialite from his arm almost every night. And with his longish inky dark hair, lady-slayer smile and devastating blue eyes, he invariably chose women equally as gorgeous as himself.

But good looks, she’d learned the hard way, were superficial and sometimes covered an ugly personality. They definitely attracted the wrong kinds of attention, which was why she’d quit flaunting her curves and started dressing to fade into the background.

She removed her suit, returned it to the hanger, toed off her pumps and placed them on the shoe rack.

“Huh. He says he likes his space, but I’ll bet he never goes to bed alone,” she muttered to herself as she pulled on a pair of faded sweats and an old T-shirt of her father’s. “He probably serves his women’s orgasms with a cab fare chaser.”

As an accountant she couldn’t help but consider all she could accomplish with a million dollars, starting with replenishing the bank account she’d depleted to move cross country and take a job with Adam’s club—a job she’d specifically targeted when her research revealed he was the new deed-holder to her family’s estate.

But marriage? No way. She’d had one disastrous marriage that began for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t an experience she ever intended repeating.

Not even as a business deal.

A very lucrative business deal.

Forget it.

She padded barefoot to the kitchen, withdrew last night’s Chinese takeout leftovers and popped them in the microwave. The scent of Hunan shrimp mingled with citrus in the air as she peeled an orange to go with her dinner.

If you lived with him you’d get to know him well.

Well enough to convince him let her pry up a few closet floorboards in the fifteen-million-dollar estate he’d bought eighteen months ago?

Why had he spent a fortune on a house if he wasn’t going to live there? She’d thought maybe he intended to remodel first, but a check at the courthouse revealed no building permits had been issued prior to her arrival, and as far as she could tell with her frequent drive-bys nothing beyond routine maintenance had been done to the house since her move to Florida.

A lawn-care company groomed the lush yard, and she’d seen a pool-service company’s van in the circular driveway. She thought she’d spotted tennis courts on the other side of the stone and wrought iron fence but the bougainvillea hedge was too thick to be certain, and the exclusive Sunset Island wasn’t exactly the kind of neighborhood where you could climb fences to peer over the top without getting arrested.

The estate wasn’t within walking distance of the club like Adam’s condo, but even in heavy traffic and with all the South Beach road construction the commute would take less than twenty minutes.

While the food heated she set the table. Her mother—her heart hitched—her adoptive mother, she corrected, had always made a big production of setting the table. It was one of the many things she and Lauryn had done together. All that had changed eleven months ago when Lauryn’s father died and her “mother” had shared the letters.

Letters that had been locked in a safety-deposit box for decades.

Letters from her father’s former lover.

Letters that had upended Lauryn’s life and sent her on a three-thousand-mile quest to find the woman who’d loved her enough to have her but not enough to keep her.

Adrianna Laurence.

Her birthmother.

How could her father have lied? Lauryn asked herself for the billionth time. And how could her mother have let him?

The timer beeped. On autopilot Lauryn retrieved the carton, scraped the contents onto a plate and pulled a Diet Coke with lime from the fridge.

Hadn’t her father realized what a shock it would be for Lauryn to suddenly discover she wasn’t who she’d thought she was for the past twenty-six years?

Hadn’t he known finding out she was the by-product of her father’s affair with a Miami Beach socialite would make Lauryn doubt everything she’d once held as truth?

Why hadn’t he guessed that finding out he’d married his deceased buddy’s pregnant wife only to provide a mother for his infant daughter would make Lauryn question the very fabric of her parents’ marriage? Or that discovering the child growing in her “mother’s” rounded tummy in all those pictures wasn’t Lauryn at all, but a baby boy who had died before taking his first breath?

Why couldn’t her father have told her about her birthmother earlier? Before Adrianna had died. If he’d done so Lauryn would have had a chance to meet the woman who’d given her life and ask questions. She could have heard her mother’s voice, seen her face and learned about her parents’ relationship. What attracted them? What separated them? What had driven Adrianna to give her baby away and why had she died so young?

Even Lauryn’s name was part of the mystery. Laurence. Lauryn. According to Lauryn’s adoptive mother, Adrianna Laurence had insisted on the name. Was it because she wanted Lauryn to find her one day? Or because she couldn’t bear not being a part of her daughter’s life in some small way?

Lauryn might never discover the reason, but it wouldn’t be from lack of trying on her part.

If her father had told the truth then Lauryn wouldn’t be forced to use subterfuge to find her answers.

Answers that, according to the letters, might be found in a diary hidden in a secret compartment beneath the closet floorboards of the estate Adam Garrison now owned.

Were the diaries still there? Or had someone besides her mother known about them and removed them from their hiding place long ago? From Lauryn’s research she knew that her grandmother, the last surviving member of the Laurence clan, had died shortly before Adam bought the property.

Doors will open for you, Adam had said.

The only doors Lauryn wanted to open were the ones to that house. Her birthmother’s house. But she couldn’t just blurt out her odd request. If she did and Adam turned her down, then she’d have nowhere else to turn, and she’d never have her questions answered.

And so the deceit began. She’d moved from California to Florida planning to befriend her new boss and gain his trust. She’d believed that once she did that, once she’d proven she wasn’t some flake with outlandish ideas, he’d be more likely to grant her bizarre request to pry up a few floorboards.

Only it hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped. She and Adam only saw each other in a business setting at biweekly meetings. There was nothing remotely personal in discussing the club’s bottom line and there were always other employees in the vicinity.

And now…

She stared at her steaming dinner with absolutely no appetite.

Now, Adam’s crazy plan and her refusal to participate in it had probably ruined any chance of friendship or trust ever developing. She’d be lucky if she escaped this situation with her job.

She’d have to find a way—short of marriage—to make amends or kiss her quest for answers goodbye.


Two

Getting out of the building for an hour on Friday appealed to Lauryn about as much as winning the lottery.

With the club operating from 11:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m., Adam didn’t usually make appearances in the Estate offices until late afternoon. While he slept, a hive of office staff, custodians and food and beverage restockers did their jobs to prepare for the night ahead. Nevertheless, Lauryn had jumped at every sound this morning and looked forward to taking the bus to her favorite Dolphin Mall deli and spending a relaxing hour not worrying about Adam Garrison’s bizarre proposition.

The clock ticked noon. Time to escape. Tension drained from her knotted shoulders. She pulled her purse from her desk and took her usual circuit through the club. With the lights turned low, the antebellum structure that had begun life as a French-owned casino looked as if it, too, were sleeping. Later this afternoon the building would awaken as the technicians tested every speaker and bulb and set up whatever stage requirements tonight’s entertainers demanded.

The club was designed around a “night out at home” theme, and each room in the vast building had been set up with trendy leather sofas and chairs arranged in conversational nooks. There were multiple bars and dance floors on both levels, each having its own color scheme. State-of-the-art lighting and sound systems and top-notch live entertainment kept the place packed to its twenty-five-hundred-person capacity with an A-list crowd every night. Or so she’d heard. She hadn’t been a customer yet and probably never would be since she’d given up late-night partying years ago and she didn’t fit the guest profile.

She paused to caress the carved newel post of the grand staircase sweeping up to the second floor. This was her favorite part of Estate. She’d always thought it resembled a stage from a Hollywood movie set.

Thinking of Hollywood reminded her of California and home.

Home. And the mother she’d inadvertently hurt when Susan Lowes had revealed Lauryn’s true parentage.

Way to go, Lauryn. Shoot the messenger.

Lauryn hadn’t meant to imply Susan had been anything less than a perfect mother. But Lauryn had questions about her heritage. Questions Susan couldn’t answer. And then there was the anger. Anger toward her father and Susan for withholding the truth. Anger toward Lauryn’s birthmother for rejecting her without even giving her a chance to fit into her world.

Shaking off her unproductive emotions, Lauryn circled back toward the employee exit, shoved open the side door and stepped into the Miami sunshine and balmy November day.

The first thing she saw once her eyes adjusted to the brightness was Adam Garrison leaning against a silver BMW convertible parked by the curb.

Her stomach dropped like a cruise ship anchor and her nerves knotted like a snarled line. So much for avoiding him after yesterday’s fiasco. She hoped he wasn’t waiting for her.

Reluctantly, she made her way down the sidewalk. She had to walk past him to get to the bus stop a block away. Lauryn had quickly learned that driving in South Beach was a disaster, not due to the traffic but because of the parking. Specifically, the lack thereof. So she relied on the bus system to get to and from work most of the time.

“Good afternoon, Lauryn.” Adam straightened as she neared.

At several inches over six feet, he looked lean and athletic in sharply creased chocolate slacks that accentuated his height and a cream silk T-shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. A breeze ruffled his dark hair, which always looked in need of a trim. She’d bet he paid a fortune for that casually unkempt look. Thankfully, his designer sunglasses covered his gorgeous make-Jell-O-of-her-kneecaps blue eyes.

She was ashamed to admit that in the beginning she’d had a bit of a crush on her boss, but then stories of his swinging bachelor lifestyle and short attention span with women had eroded those feelings. She’d been there, done that and didn’t ever want to live that kind of superficial, self-absorbed life again.

Adam was gorgeous, but good-looking men were a dime a dozen in South Beach. Not that she was shopping for one. You couldn’t walk down the sidewalk without passing a bare-chested guy showing off his tan and pecs—either of which may or may not be real here in a city where artificial beauty was as common as a cold.

But most of those guys didn’t make her pulse blip unevenly.

And none of them had proposed.

“Good afternoon, Mr.—Adam. Did you need me for something?”

Please say no.

“Lunch.”

Not the answer she wanted. “I…have plans.”

He frowned. “A date?”

She hesitated and debated lying. But she couldn’t. Her presence in Miami was already complicated by too many half-truths. “No. I was going to the mall.”

“I have a better idea. Get in.” He opened the passenger-side door.

Would he fire her if she refused? Not something she wanted to find out. She eased into the leather seat and fastened her safety belt. Adam slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine and merged into the Washington Avenue traffic.

“I only have an hour,” she reminded him.

“Not a problem. Besides, you’re with the boss. Who’s going to report you?” He drove north for a couple of miles and then cut through to North Bay and turned back south. Seconds later he pulled up to the curb in front of an exclusive restaurant overlooking Biscayne Bay—one she’d never been to because A, she couldn’t afford it, and B, she couldn’t get a reservation even if she wanted one.

He climbed from the car and tossed the keys to the valet. Another uniformed employee opened Lauryn’s door, handed her out and escorted her to Adam waiting on the sidewalk as if she were a prized possession. Or a ditz who couldn’t be trusted next to the busy street.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Garrison,” the hostess greeted him the second they stepped through the doors. Her cool gaze assessed and dismissed Lauryn in two seconds flat. “Your table is ready.”

Adam motioned for Lauryn to precede him, but then followed so closely she could feel his heat and his gaze on her back. She hoped her pin-striped navy skirt didn’t make her butt look big. And then she mentally kicked herself.

His opinion of your butt is irrelevant.

Conscious of the curious stares and her department-store clothing so different from the rest of the clientele’s designer wear, Lauryn followed the hostess to a waterfront table on the outside deck, took a seat beneath the umbrella and accepted a menu. A breeze teased strands of her hair from the knot at her nape to tickle her cheeks.

She looked up and directly into Adam’s blue eyes. He’d removed his sunglasses. As always, the intensity and intelligence in his gaze made her breath hitch.

Tension invaded her limbs as she waited for him to bring up the proposal because there was no doubt that’s why he’d brought her here. She hadn’t changed her mind about marrying him, although the idea had monopolized her thoughts and cost her a decent night’s sleep. Lunch at an exclusive restaurant wouldn’t sway her.

What kind of man coolly plotted to buy a wife, sleep with her for two years even though he didn’t love her and then discard her and walk away? But then Adam probably hadn’t loved any of the women who’d creased his sheets.

Having been burned by love, Lauryn could see the advantages of avoiding the unpredictable emotion, but call her a romantic sap; she actually wanted to find her soul mate one day.

She ducked her head and fussed with her napkin. She’d thought her parents had been soul mates, but discovering the letters and the lies had made her question every tender gesture she’d witnessed over the years. What had been real? What had been staged? Had they fallen for each other after the convoluted coverup of Lauryn’s adoption and the premature death of Susan’s baby like Susan claimed? Or was that also a lie?

After the waiter took their orders Adam gave Lauryn his full attention. His gaze roamed her features as if cataloging each one. “You moved here from California. Which part?”

Small talk. She could do small talk. Although it had been so long since she’d been on a date she was probably rusty. Was this a date? She hoped not. “Northern.”

“Why Florida?”

She’d had enough doors slammed in her face to know she certainly couldn’t blurt out the whole truth. Adam belonged to the same upper class who’d closed ranks and shut her out when she’d come here ten months ago to ask questions about one of their own. No one would confirm that Adrianna had given birth to an illegitimate child, and no one would tell Lauryn how her birthmother died. In fact, conversations ended pretty quickly as soon as she mentioned Adrianna Laurence’s name.

Adrianna’s obituary hadn’t listed a cause of death or even an organization to which one could donate in lieu of flowers as a clue. She’d only been thirty-six, ten years older than Lauryn was now. If there was a ticking time bomb in Lauryn’s genes she would like to know.

“My father used to be stationed at Tyndall Air Force Base. I grew up hearing stories about Florida, the Everglades and the beaches. After he died I decided to check them out for myself.”

“And yet you settled on the east coast rather than panhandle.”

“Better job opportunities,” she replied and hoped he’d drop the subject. He’d been the only job opportunity she’d pursued, and she considered it an amazing stroke of luck that his previous accountant had quit to stay at home with her new baby around the same time Lauryn had needed her job.

“California’s loss is my gain.” He accompanied the words with a smile she’d only seen in the South Florida Album section of the newspaper, but those grainy pictures in no way had the same lung-emptying impact as the real deal. No wonder flocks of women fell at his feet. She felt almost dizzy.

She transferred her gaze to the islands across the bay. The Sunset Islands were a tiny cluster of outrageously priced real estate. Could you see Adam’s other home—her birthmother’s family estate—from here? She counted until she found the correct channel to mark the way to the waterfront property. Lauryn had considered renting a boat and trying to get a better view of the house from the bay side, but the only thing she knew about boats was that they made her seasick.

The man in front of her held the answers. “Didn’t I hear someone say you own a house on one of those islands?”

Adam nodded. “Ricco?”

What did the club’s booking agent have to do with the estate? But he wasn’t her source. She’d discovered that tidbit during a search of the county records, but if she told Adam that she’d come across as a stalker. Which she was…sort of. And she didn’t want to get Ricco in trouble. “I don’t remember.”

“I bought the house at auction the same way I bought the building now housing Estate and a few other properties. Bargain prices. Good investments.”

“And yet you don’t live on the island.”

“I use the Sunset estate to house certain VIPs who are performing at the club. The ones who prefer privacy to hotels.”

That explained the maintenance crews. “I didn’t know that.”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. A zing shot up her arm—the same kind of tempting tingle she’d experienced yesterday when he’d held her hand. Lauryn was no stranger to sexual attraction, but she’d learned the hard way to ignore it because sex inevitably led to complications. Complications she didn’t need.

She tried to pull away, but Adam’s grip tightened around her wrist. He turned her hand over, used his other hand to pry open her clenched fist and then drew on her palm with his fingertip. The impact hit her libido like a car bomb. Shock-waves plowed through her and shattered defenses she’d thought unbreachable. She gulped and squeezed her knees against the warmth gathering between her thighs.

“I apologize for springing my proposal on you so abruptly yesterday. I realize it’s a pretty radical idea.”

“No kidding,” she croaked and tugged her hand to no avail.

“You don’t know me well enough to know I always give one hundred ten percent to any endeavor. I can and will be a great husband.” He stroked up and down between each of her fingers. Her pulse bounded like popcorn in a popper. No doubt he felt it beneath the thumb he feathered over the inside of her wrist. “We’ll get to know each other better. Date a few times.”

“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. And it won’t change my answer.”

“You can’t deny there’s chemistry between us.”

His deep, velvety tone immediately made her think of dark nights, tangled sheets, a lack of clothing and his hands on her skin.

Heat flushed her from the inside out. How long had it been since she’d had really good sex? Or sex, period, for that matter.

Did he really feel the attraction, too, or was he just saying what he needed to say to close this deal? God knows she’d fallen victim to plenty of smooth-talking guys who’d made her feel like the most important person on the planet until they had what they wanted. But then she’d been known to use guys, too, to get a rise out of her father.

She scanned Adam’s face, noting the dusky color on his cheekbones and the way he breathed through slightly parted lips.

Adam Garrison attracted to her? Impossible. She’d seen his usual bimbos and she didn’t even come close to the models and starlets he dated, especially the way she dressed these days.

“You’re my boss. Office relationships always turn out badly—usually for the employee.”

“They don’t have to. Besides, you won’t be working for me after the wedding,” he enunciated very clearly and a tad too loud. Before she could figure out why he’d spoken that way a woman jerked to a halt behind him.

“Adam?” The lady could have been anywhere from fifty to a well-preserved seventy, but it was impossible to gauge by her tightly stretched skin.

Adam looked up and hesitated just the right amount of time before releasing Lauryn’s hand and standing. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ainsley. This is Lauryn Lowes. Lauryn, Helene Ainsley. She’s on the board of practically every charitable foundation in Miami.”

Helene Ainsley. The same woman who’d refused to come to the door when Lauryn had knocked and asked the maid who answered for a moment of her mistress’s time. The Ainsley estate was four doors down from the Laurence property, and even though Mrs. Ainsley was older, she or her children had probably known Adrianna Laurence.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Ainsley.” It would have been nicer ten months ago.

The woman looked from Adam to Lauryn through her nipped and tucked eyes. “Do we have news?”

Lauryn tensed and held her breath.

Adam sent a lingering look her way and then smiled tenderly before replying without breaking eye contact, “No news.”

Good grief, the man should be an actor. His tone, expression and body language spoke the opposite more eloquently than words.

“I could have sworn I heard you say ‘wedding.’”

Adam returned his attention to Mrs. Ainsley. “You could have. There have been a few weddings in the Garrison family lately. And of course, my sister Brittany is engaged.”

But Mrs. Ainsley didn’t believe him. Lauryn could see the curiosity in the woman’s overstretched face. How smart of Adam to plant the seed—just in case he convinced Lauryn to say yes. Not that he would.

The woman’s searching gaze focused on Lauryn. “Have we met, dear? You look familiar.”

Lauryn’s heart skipped a beat. Did she take after her mother? The only photos she’d found of Adrianna had been blurry black-and-white newspaper shots that made identifying specific features difficult, but Lauryn had inherited her father’s coloring. Her mother had been a brunette. “No, ma’am.”

“Are you quite sure? I never forget a face.”

She yearned to blurt out the truth, but the consequences of handling this badly were too great. “I’m sure. I haven’t met many people because I haven’t lived in the area very long.”

“Then we should remedy that. We’re having a few friends over on Saturday. Perhaps you and Adam will join us for couples’ tennis?”

The invitation stole Lauryn’s breath.

Doors will open, Adam had said. Lauryn hadn’t considered that those open doors would offer an opportunity to join her birthmother’s social circle.

If she married Adam Garrison she’d be one of the Miami elite and closer to getting her answers than ever before. The idea tempted her more than it should.

“Lauryn?” he asked.

“I, um…I’m sorry. I don’t play tennis.” She’d been too busy being a rebellious teen to learn. Just one more reason to regret her misspent youth.

Helene turned back to Adam. “Then perhaps you’ll bring Lauryn to cocktails on Monday evening. The club is closed then, isn’t it?”

“We’d like that,” Adam accepted without consulting Lauryn. But she didn’t care about his high-handedness. He was going to get her into a house her mother had probably visited and introduce her to people her mother had probably known. While they were on the island maybe she could convince him to show her his place and she could walk her mother’s path.

“Lovely. See you at eight.” Mrs. Ainsley glided off with the grace of the queen.

Adam sat quickly, followed by the arrival of their meal. After the waiter departed Lauryn looked at her companion. “You’re very sneaky.”

A mischievous smile slanted his lips, making him look like a bad boy inviting her to come out and play. The dormant rebel in Lauryn raised its head, but she quickly reined in her naughty urges. She’d given up her penchant for bad boys.

“I know what I want and I’m not ashamed to go after it. Helene is one of the biggest gossips in the Greater Miami area. By the time we announce our engagement it will be old news.”

She gaped at him. “Need I remind you that I turned you down?”

“You’ll change your mind.” He lifted his wineglass in a silent toast. His eyes held a challenge. “Or I’ll change it for you. We’ll be good together, Lauryn. In bed and out.”

Tendrils of desire wound through her. And that, Lauryn realized, was the crux of her dilemma. The answers she wanted were right at her fingertips, but only if she broke the promise she’d made to her father and herself before the ink on her annulment had dried.

Next time, she’d vowed, she’d marry for all the right reasons.

And the business alliance Adam proposed didn’t even come close.

He almost had her.

Adam didn’t know why the idea of drinks with the Ainsleys’ stuffy crowd excited Lauryn, but he’d seen the flash of interest in her eyes and the heightened color on her cheeks earlier at lunch.

He rinsed the last of the shaving cream from his face, patted dry and then padded naked into his bedroom to dress for a Friday night at the club. He fed off the pulse of the music, the flash of the lights and the energy of Estate’s guests. Knowing he provided a good time for hundreds of people each night and was financially rewarded for doing so filled him with satisfaction.

Work. He lived for it. Why couldn’t his family—specifically his brothers—see that? But they viewed his life as one big party and treated him like a perpetual frat boy.

He made it halfway across the room before the mental image of Lauryn in his bed stalled his steps. Hell, he couldn’t be attracted to her, could he? Before Brandon’s suggestion, Adam had never had a sexual thought about his accountant. Or any employee, for that matter.

Lauryn had done nothing to light his fire. She was cool and withdrawn. She didn’t flirt. Even though he’d spent an hour with her today, he didn’t know any more about her than he had before lunch except that the smiles he used to make other women melt didn’t affect Lauryn Lowes.

But he had to admit something happened when he touched her to quicken his pulse and heat his blood. Was his interest piqued solely because she’d said no?

Shaking his head to clear the image of her pale skin spread across his black sheets, he headed for his closet. Any anticipation he might feel for seeing her again could be attributed to moving closer toward his goal. The marriage would be strictly business. Not pleasure. Although he was beginning to suspect Lauryn had a good body beneath her shapeless clothing and that he could derive a great deal of pleasure from exploring it.

All right, so he wanted to see her naked, but that was only because he was curious to know what she was hiding and why.

And if she wanted to dip her toes in Miami Beach society, he’d lead her to the water even though he usually avoided such events like he’d avoid swimming through a school of jellyfish. You never knew when you might get stung.

Drinks at the Ainsleys’ could include anywhere from a half-dozen to a hundred guests. Adam hoped like hell his mother wouldn’t be there drinking herself into oblivion. Lauryn would get a dose of Bonita Garrison soon enough.

After the wedding he and Lauryn would have to attend some of the Sunday family dinners, but until then he didn’t dare risk letting his mother’s increasingly bitter barbs scare off Lauryn because he didn’t have the time or inclination to search out another wife candidate. The nominating committee had already begun their search.

Guilt nagged at Adam as he dragged on a silk shirt. Finding out her husband of thirty-eight years had a twenty-seven-year-old illegitimate daughter from a long-term and on-going affair couldn’t have been easy for his mother. But that was no excuse for pickling her liver by living in a bottle of booze. His mother’s drinking had been a problem for as long as Adam could remember, and with it came the lies and excuses to cover the things she’d done or forgotten to do. But the situation had worsened since the reading of the will and the open acknowledgment of Cassie, his father’s illegitimate daughter by his Bahamian lover.

Adam made a note to hire a full-time driver for his mother. He couldn’t risk letting her get behind the wheel of a car. And he needed to talk to his siblings about drying her out before she killed herself.

He stepped into his trousers and pulled them over his bare butt. He hadn’t known about his halfsister, Cassie, but he had known about his father’s affair for years. Should he have told his mother? Or had she already known? Was that why she drank?

Five years ago during a trip to the Bahamas, Adam had stumbled upon his father and Cassie’s mother in an intimate clench. He’d tried to force his father to end the affair and failed. The confrontation had been ugly. Later that same year his father had turned over the running of Garrison, Inc. to Parker and the hotel operations to Stephen. Adam had received nothing. Nada.

And now it was too late to make things right with his father.

He tamped down the loss and frustration tightening his chest and finished dressing, then grabbed his keys and cell phone and jogged down the stairs. He couldn’t go backward. He could only move forward.

For his plan to work he needed absolute secrecy. Only Brandon knew the whole truth behind Adam’s proposal. And even though his best friend was crazy in love with Adam’s newly discovered half sister, Adam knew he could count on Brandon to keep his lips zipped. Not just because of client confidentiality, but because Brandon was that kind of guy—as honest and loyal as a summer day is long.

In the meantime, Adam would keep Lauryn away from his family until the contracts were signed and the wedding knot was tightly tied—and he had no doubt it would be tied. If Lauryn slipped up and revealed his strategy to his siblings he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of gaining more involvement in Garrison, Inc.

But first he had to get through Monday evening. A night at the Ainsleys’ wouldn’t be pleasant, but neither would it be a total waste of time. With Lauryn on his arm he’d schmooze with the movers and shakers of the community who could aid in his quest for the council nomination.

A win-win situation.

He’d score points with Lauryn and for himself.

And he’d do what he did best.

He’d turn on the charm and land himself a bride.


Three

Yet another dead end.

Lauryn tried to keep her steps from dragging as she followed Adam into the moist evening air and across the brick courtyard toward his car. She’d pinned her hopes on walking in her birthmother’s footsteps tonight. But Adrianna Laurence had never set foot in the Ainsleys’ house. At least, not this one.

Lauryn’s disappointment was almost enough to distract her from the feel of Adam’s hand wrapped around hers. Hot. Firm. Electric.

He’d been attentive all evening with a casual touch at her waist here, a brush of his hand against hers there. It hadn’t taken her long to realize his every move had been designed to convince the other guests they were a couple. And yet he hadn’t said one dishonest word or made a single inappropriate gesture to which she could object.

Much as she disliked the situation, she had to face facts. Being a pawn in Adam’s scheme had its benefits. She’d been the only outsider at the gathering tonight, but because she was Adam’s date she’d been welcomed into her birthmother’s stratum by the same people who’d refused to speak to her a few months ago. People who had very likely known her birthmother.

With a little Garrison grease to oil the hinges she’d made more progress tonight in two hours of chitchat than she had in weeks of knocking on doors and researching microfiche newspaper articles and county documents. She didn’t have her answers yet because it was too soon to ask without risking rejection, but as long as she was beside Adam she could build the tentative connections to find out what she wanted so desperately to know.

Adam opened the car door, but Lauryn didn’t climb in. She pivoted in her flat sandals and studied the ostentatious home. Lights streamed from every window, painting stripes across the dark grounds. “You’re telling me the Ainsleys demolished a perfectly good house and built a new one in the same spot?”

“Five years ago.”

“But why?” She turned back to Adam and realized he’d moved close enough to loom above her—far too close for her peace of mind. The tang of his cologne, a crisp lime scent, teased her senses, and she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Her body still hummed from his unexpected touches throughout the evening and his proximity overwhelmed her.

One small step and they’d be breast-to-chest, hip-to-hip. Her gaze drifted to his lips. With all the practice he’d had, she’d bet he was a great kisser. If he bent his head—

No kisses. Back up.

But she couldn’t. Trapped as she was between the car and Adam’s lean frame, there was nowhere to run. She forced her eyes away from his mouth and dragged a lungful of the heavily scented night air into her chest, but she couldn’t identify the flowers she smelled.

Had her mother known the names? Had Adrianna been a plant lover? A swimmer? A shopaholic? A night owl or morning person? Tall, short, introvert or extrovert? Had she been a rule follower or a rule breaker? Knowing nothing frustrated Lauryn and left her feeling empty. Adrift.

Adam shrugged. “With the shortage of land and surplus of cash in South Florida it’s a common practice to tear down and start fresh. Sometimes massive reconstruction is due to hurricane damage, but in this case Helene wanted renovations that exceeded the value of the house.”

Alarm streaked through her. “Your house hasn’t been razed has it?”

His eyes narrowed as if he could hear the panic she couldn’t quite keep out of her voice. “No. It’s the original structure. Why?”

Get a grip, Lauryn. She forced a smile. “I…um, love history. I hate to see it erased. We’re close to your place, aren’t we? Would you show it to me?”

He hesitated so long she thought he’d refuse. “Sure. There’s no one staying there this week.”

She slid into the car with so much anticipation and excitement bubbling through her veins that she could barely sit still.

Adam drove off the Ainsley property, down the palm-shadowed street and then pulled into a short driveway blocked by another set of elaborately coiled iron gates and stopped the car. He tapped a security code onto a recessed keypad and the wide gates silently glided open.

Emotion clogged Lauryn’s throat as the car rolled into a circular brick courtyard and around the center fountain. Sensor lights flicked on, flooding the area with light. Scrambling to absorb it all at once, she ticked off details in her mind. Mediterranean style. Four-car garage to the left. Arched windows. Carved columns. Deep, shadowed porches.

Her birthmother’s home. Lauryn’s heart thumped as hard and fast as a helicopter’s blades as she climbed from the car on trembling legs. She wished she could see the house in daylight instead of washed by a weak crescent moon. She wanted to examine every minute detail of the elaborately carved cornices above the windows and doors and under the gables and eaves.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Like I said, it’s a good investment. By the time I unload it, the property will have doubled in value.”

Panic burst in her veins. He couldn’t sell. Not yet. “You’re going to sell it?”

“When the market and price are right.”

She wiped her dampening palms on her simple black sheath and followed Adam onto the front porch, tangling and untangling her fingers while he unlocked the door.

How many times had her birthmother crossed this threshold?

He entered, hit a light switch and then punched a sequence on an alarm system concealed by a small mirror. He gestured for her to join him, but she couldn’t move. A weird form of near-paralysis locked her muscles. She was so close to uncovering the truth. So close to the diaries and answers.

If they were here.

But what if she didn’t like what she learned? What if her mother wasn’t a nice person? What if her mother had died of some hideously debilitating and hereditary disease? And what if Lauryn possessed some flaw that made her unlovable?

Her father and Susan had loved her hadn’t they? Maybe. Her parents had lied about so much that Lauryn didn’t trust herself to recognize the truth anymore.

“Lauryn?” Adam’s expression asked why she delayed.

She scrambled for a response. “This luxury is about as far as you can get from the military housing I grew up in.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you at the Ainsleys’.”

“I guess I was too nervous about meeting all those people to be overwhelmed by the house. I, um…don’t get out much.” Not anymore.

She forced her feet forward and found herself in a soaring circular two-story domed foyer. She slowly turned around in the center of the Mariner’s Compass pattern inlaid into the marble floor like a glossy stone quilt, and then crossed to the wide staircase sweeping up and around the foyer to the second floor.

Had her mother crept up and down these stairs, avoiding the squeaky treads in the middle of the night? If marble treads creaked, that is.

Had the wild streak that had landed Lauryn in so much trouble as a teen come from Adrianna Laurence? Lauryn certainly hadn’t inherited it from her father, a regimented career military man, or learned it from her adoptive mother, a serene saint of a woman who never raised her voice or her hand no matter how obnoxious Lauryn had been.

“Want the ten-dollar tour?” Adam’s voice intruded.

She blinked. “I thought that was a ten-cent tour.”

“Inflation,” Adam replied straight-faced. “If you don’t have cash, I’ll accept a more creative payment.”

His gaze dropped to Lauryn’s lips and her mouth dried. She cleared her throat and looked away. “I’d love a tour.”

She had to get into this house without him dogging her footsteps. Maybe she could convince him to give her a key to drop stuff off for the VIPs and steal a few minutes to explore. “How many bedrooms?”

“Six bedrooms, seven and a half baths, plus servants’ apartments over the garage.”

Six! It would take hours or days to search each closet for loose floorboards and that was assuming the closets were empty and she wouldn’t have to shift stuff out of the way first.

“This is definitely the kind of house to raise a family in.” Her mother had grown up here, an only child, and according to what little Lauryn had uncovered, had moved back home after one semester at Vassar. Had Adrianna taken the diaries to college with her? Had she brought them home?

“Come on.” He turned and headed through an archway.

Lauryn hustled after him. “Did you make many changes after you bought the estate?”

He strode past a stream of rooms, flipping light switches as he went. “Other than updating the electrical wiring, no. The previous owners kept the place well-maintained. I even bought some of the furniture in the estate sale.”

Lauryn stumbled. She barely caught a glimpse of the book-lined library, home theater, massive kitchen, two-story living room and beamed-ceiling den as she hustled to keep up with Adam. The grandeur of the house blew her mind. She wanted to beg him to slow down, to let her soak up the details like a sponge, to ask which pieces of furniture had been the Laurences’.

Had her mother sat on that sofa or at that writing desk? But asking would require explanations. And explanations could lead to rejection. It was too soon to launch her appeal.

He didn’t stop until he reached a circular sunroom jutting from the back of the house like a peninsula. Three of her tiny apartments would fit in this room alone.

To her right a wall of windows overlooked an expansive pool and patio illuminated by subtle landscape lighting. The left side revealed tennis courts, and beyond the seawall at the back of the property stretched a private dock with a long, low and fast-looking boat floating in the channel.

With one sweep of his hand Adam extinguished the interior and exterior lights and the outside view vanished. Pale moonlight cast the sunroom in a mysterious combination of shadows and wavering silvery light.

“Ready to go?”

No! Not yet. “You’re not going to show me the upstairs?”

He closed the distance between them in two lazy strides, lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. Surprise held her motionless. Shadows sharpened the angles of his face. His thumb brushed over her lips. Desire sparked instantly in her veins and judging by the sudden widening of Adam’s pupils and the flare of his nostrils he felt something, too. The air suddenly turned hot, humid and heavy.

“If you want to get me into a bedroom, you’re going to have to accept my proposal and sign the agreements first.”

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. She could not let herself fall for Adam Garrison. She’d given up bad boys and shallow relationships a long time ago. And while Adam wore designer clothing instead of torn jeans, he was still a heartbreaker through and through.

Been there. Done that.

Tempting, but taboo.

But she had to have access to this house. She’d lost her father and her own identity eleven months ago and possibly shattered her relationship with her mother beyond repair. If she had any chance of getting her life back on an even keel then she had to figure out who she was—who she really was—not the fairy tale her parents had concocted.

There was only one way.

A chill raced through her. She spun away from Adam, wrapped her arms around herself and picked her way through the mottled shadows to stand by the window and stare out at the lights winking across the darkness from the houses on the island across the channel.

“I’ll do it,” she said in a rush with her gaze focused on the rocking boat instead of the man behind her.

Light filled the room once again. “Do what?”

She slowly turned and met Adam’s direct gaze. “I’ll marry you. But only if we live here.”

“I have a condo within walking distance of the club.”

“Have you ever considered you might appear more settled if you lived in a house instead of a bachelor pad?”

He dipped his head. “Good point.”

“I won’t give up my job.”

“Lauryn, you won’t need to work.”

“But I want to.” She took a slow breath and then blurted, “And I won’t sleep with you.”

“You’ll have your own room.”

“No, Adam, I mean no sex. You might be able to be intimate with someone you don’t love, but I can’t.” Not anymore. She remembered all too well the self-loathing afterward. She’d wanted to hurt her father with her brazen behavior, but she’d only ended up hurting and hating herself.

“I’ll get tested if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That has nothing to do with it. I mean, it is important given the legions you’re rumored to have bedded, but—”

“Legions?”

“You’re not known for your discriminatory tastes.”

“There haven’t been legions.”

“How many then?”

“None of your business.”

“It is when you’re trying to talk me into bed.”

He hesitated and then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t count or you can’t count that high?”

His chin jutted forward. “How many men have you slept with?”

Her shameful past crept over her. She’d wasted her youth looking for ways to flout her father’s iron-fist authority, and she wasn’t proud of that. She’d been a rebel, but she’d reformed. She’d practically become a nun. “Hey, if you don’t have to answer then neither do I.”

“What am I supposed to do for…relief?”

A slideshow flashed in her mind of ten different ways she could give him sexual relief, but she shut it down. The heat flushing her skin wasn’t as easy to vanquish. “That depends on whether you’re right-or left-handed.”

“And you?”

Her cheeks ignited. “I can take care of myself.”

His jaw muscles bunched as if he were gritting his teeth. He paced to the window, paused and then turned. “Fine. I accept your terms. Do you have a passport?”

For a moment she was too stunned to speak. “Yes. Why?”

“I’ll have Brandon make the arrangements. He and Cassie can set up a quick, quiet Bahamas wedding. Does that suit you? Or do you need a circus?”

Cassie…it took a moment for Lauryn to place the name. Cassie Sinclair had been John Garrison’s secret lovechild from an extramarital affair. Or so the papers reported. Even though Lauryn had never met the woman, she felt a kinship with her. Another outsider. But at least Cassie had known who her parents were. Cassie currently owned and managed the Garrison Grand-Bahamas and had recently hooked up with Brandon Washington, Adam’s attorney—if the club’s scuttlebutt was to be believed.

“I don’t want a big wedding. But why the Bahamas?”

“If we get married in Miami my family would expect to be invited and there’s a good chance there would be a media blitz.”

Avoiding both the media and the Garrison family appealed. “Something quiet in the Bahamas is fine. I’ve never been there.”

“We’ll stay a few days and call it a honeymoon.”

Honeymoon? “I won’t change my mind about the sex.”

“Lauryn, it’s imperative we act like a couple who’s fallen in love and eloped. If this marriage doesn’t look real it’ll do me no good. We’ll have a honeymoon.”

“The business council nomination is that important to you?”

Again he hesitated. “It’s what the nomination represents that’s important.”

“And that is?”

“Personal.” He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now we have time to swing by the club and pick up the agreements.”

Personal.

Secrets weren’t the best way to start a marriage—temporary or otherwise. But she’d let him get away with this one because she had a few of her own.

Some things were too shameful to share.

“You didn’t have to drive me home,” Lauryn said as Adam turned his BMW into her apartment complex.

“I told you I’m not letting you take the bus at this time of night.”

“I always use the bus.”

“Not anymore. My fiancée would never use public transportation.”

Fiancée. She gulped down her rising panic. Her last marriage had been a horrific mistake. Would this one be better or worse since love wasn’t involved?

“Your fiancée can’t afford valet parking or dollar-an-hour parking meters.”

“With the money you’re about to receive that’s going to change.”

As bad luck would have it, one of the few visitors’ parking spaces opened up as he turned into the lot. He pulled between the white lines, killed the engine and unlocked the doors.

She needed to get away from Adam, needed to rethink this crazy scheme and make sure there wasn’t another way to accomplish her goal.

Admit it. There is no other way. You’ve pursued every other avenue. This is your best chance to uncover the truth.

Clutching her purse and the file containing the prenuptial agreement and marriage contract, she sprang from the car before he could circle to her side. “You don’t need to walk me to the door. The area is well-lit and safe.”

He grasped her elbow in a warm, firm grip. Even though he’d touched her dozens of times tonight her breath still caught on contact. “Which way to the elevators?”

He obviously planned to ignore what she’d said.

“There are no elevators. I’m on the third floor.”

He swept his free hand toward the stairwell.

Reluctantly, Lauryn led the way, but even with her “leading” he was right beside her, matching his steps to hers. She didn’t want him in her apartment. Not that there was anything wrong with the tiny, tidy space, but after seeing the luxury to which he was accustomed, her place felt dinky and inadequate. The Art Deco building had been renovated, but with white-collar instead of wealthy tenants in mind.

She hiked the stairs with him by her side, unlocked the door and entered. A quick glance revealed she hadn’t left anything lying around that she didn’t want him to see—like the thick folder she’d compiled on her mother. Or the thinner one on Adam and his business clearly marked with his name on the tab.

She faced him with the marriage file clutched to her chest. “I’m in. Safe and sound. Thanks for taking me to the Ainsleys’ tonight and for showing me your house.”

He stepped forward, forcing her to shuffle hastily out of the way. With his eyes sweeping her space, the tiny kitchenette to the left, the sitting room in front of him, the doors leading to the small bedroom and minuscule bathroom, he shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair.

“What are you doing?”

“Making myself comfortable.”

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll look these over and bring them to work with me in the morning.” She remained by the open door, hoping he’d take the hint, get his coat and leave.

Instead, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up one shirtsleeve and then the other, revealing hair-dusted forearms. “I’ll go over the documents with you.”

“No need. If I have questions I’ll write them down.”

He prowled toward her, his blue gaze intent and unwavering, and palmed the door shut. “Trying to get rid of me, Lauryn?”

Her mouth dried and her pulse kicked erratically. “I have to get up early.”

“It’s only eleven and your boss will cut you some slack.”

“I can’t be late. I have to issue a check to the liquor supplier when he delivers first thing tomorrow.”

“The truck comes at ten. You can sleep in. We have a few more details to work out.” He parked his hands on his hips as if expecting an argument.

“Like what?”

“Like how you’ll be paid. Brandon has spelled it out in the marriage contract, but I’ll recap. You’ll receive just over forty-one grand every month. The first payment will be transferred into your account after the wedding ceremony.”

“Why monthly?”

“So you won’t skip out before the end of the second year.”

“Once I give my word I don’t break it.” Not anymore. “But okay. Monthly is fine.” She wasn’t in this for the money anyway.

“I’ll open bank and charge accounts for you. Because of the temporary nature of this marriage our money will be kept separate. If you blow your salary before the end of the month you’re out of luck. I won’t give you a dime more.” When she didn’t argue he continued, “And I’m going to hire an assistant for you.”

“Wait a minute. You said I could keep my job, and I’ve told you, I don’t need an assistant.”

“I’ll allow you to continue working, but only part-time. If we’re inseparable newlyweds you’ll be expected to make regular appearances by my side at the club. That means late nights. Your assistant will cover mornings.”

His logic made sense. She reluctantly conceded by inclining her head. “What else?”

“A certain amount of PDAs will be required to make this marriage look real.” He stood almost a yard away, but the distance and her apartment suddenly seemed to shrink.

“PDAs?”

“Public displays of affection. We’ll need to touch. Like we did tonight.”

She could handle that. “Okay.”

“Kiss.”

She gulped. “I don’t think—”

“Newlyweds kiss and touch. Often. Making people believe we can’t keep our hands off each other is part of the performance.”

Her lips seemed to throb beneath his gaze. Tension stretched between them. Would he kiss her tonight? To seal the deal? To test her acting ability? Her heart pounded so hard she felt light-headed.

“Can you handle that?”

“I…um…yes. I can handle kissing you.” She hoped.

Adam turned abruptly and strolled deeper into the living room. Her lungs emptied in a rush.

“You need different clothes, makeup, hair, a manicure—”

“You want me to get a makeover?” She didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased. She’d been downplaying her looks for so long it had become second nature. Apparently, she’d become good at looking drab.

He hitched his pants and sat on her sofa. Such a masculine man on flowered chintz just looked…wrong somehow. “To be believable as my wife you’re going to need a little flash and a lot of style.”

“To compete with your usual bimbos, you mean?”

“There will be no competition. I told you, Lauryn, I won’t be unfaithful despite your ridiculous insistence on celibacy.”

She marched across the room and stopped in front of him. “It’s not ridiculous.”

He stretched his arms along the back of the sofa and let his gaze coast from her face to her breasts, waist, legs and then back up again. Goose bumps sprouted in the wake of his examination.

“We’ll see who can hold out the longest. And when you break, you come to me. No one else.”

She wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. “I won’t break.”

“We’ll see. I’ll hire a personal shopper to help you choose appropriate clothing and make the beauty appointments.”

“I’ll choose my own clothes and make my own appointments.”

“Lauryn—”

“And I won’t dress like a tramp.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t date tramps.”

“Didn’t your last girlfriend recently make the news for flashing a pantiless crotch shot at the paparazzi?”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“The media says differently.” She futilely tried to massage the headache squeezing the back of her skull beneath her knot of hair. “I can dress myself and do all the rest.”

He sat forward, forearms braced on his knees. “Not from what I’ve seen. Keep your wardrobe conservative, but try to dress your age instead of matronly. Remember, people are supposed to believe I’m attracted to you.”

Ouch. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“We can’t afford mistakes. We have to get it right the first time.”

“I’ll get it right.”

Tense, silent seconds ticked past. “You have a headache?”

“Yes. But it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Please, Adam, go home. I’ll read the documents and discuss them with you tomorrow.”

He stared at her as if considering refusing, but then rose. “I’ll pick you up at Estate at five tomorrow evening. We’ll stop by Brandon’s office for the notary to witness our signatures before going to dinner.”

And then she’d be tied to Adam Garrison in a sham of a marriage for two years.

But what was two years when her entire life had been a lie?


Four

“Ready to roll?”

Lauryn nearly jumped out of her chair at the sound of Adam’s voice behind her late Tuesday afternoon. She swiveled around and found him standing just inside her office.

Black suit, white shirt, conservative black-and-silver-patterned tie. Manly. Magnificent. He’d always been a sharp dresser, but she rarely saw him so formally attired.

“Almost. You’re early. Let me print this last page.” She caught the sheet before it could hit the tray. “I typed up an addendum.”

“Addendum to what?” He crossed to her desk and took the papers she offered.

“Our agreement. These are the items we covered last night.”

His gaze ricocheted from the pages to her face. He backtracked and closed her office door. “Our sex life is not going into a legal document.”

“I want the terms spelled out.”

“I won’t have anything in writing that the press can use to discredit me. The prenup and marriage contract are risky enough. Delete that file,” he ordered in an authoritative voice.

Her hackles rose in a conditioned response. Like a Pavlovian pooch. She’d never taken orders well. Her father had barked them as if she’d been a new recruit, and she…well, she’d rebelled. More often than not her response had landed her in hot water.

But that was then.

“Adam—”

“Do it now, Lauryn.”

Grasping the arms of her chair, she sat back and counted to ten. “You’re protecting your interests. Why shouldn’t I protect mine?”

“I give you my word I will abide by your requests.” He fed the pages into the shredder and then planted his palms on her desk and slowly leaned forward until he towered over her. He held her gaze without blinking. “Until you tell me otherwise.”

The last phrase, delivered with a cocky half smile, oozed confidence and charisma. He thought she’d change her mind about the sex ban. He had no clue what kind of lockdown she’d put on her hormones since dissolving her hasty marriage or how good she’d become at ignoring the opposite sex. But he’d learn.

She deleted the file and even emptied her computer’s recycle bin. “Done.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait. You need to approve the advertisement for my assistant.” “No need to advertise. Your predecessor is eager to come back to work. She’s discovered she needs a break from full-time diaper duty.”

Tension squeezed Lauryn’s throat like an invisible strangler’s hand. Silently, she collected her purse and the marriage agreement and followed Adam out of the building.

“Did your attorney look at the contract?” he asked.

“I don’t have an attorney here and there wasn’t time to find one.”

Adam grasped her elbow and stopped her on the sidewalk. He met her gaze head-on. “I won’t cheat you. The settlement is fair.”

“I know. I read it.” Five times. Pages of emotionless words promising twenty-four months of her life to a virtual stranger. A year to get Adam elected and then a year to keep him in office until he’d proven he could do the job.

Would she be able to remain as detached when she shared a home and a life with this man? Would she be able to walk away as if the marriage had never happened? Her reaction to Adam’s stimulating touch said the time wouldn’t pass without leaving its mark.

But she could control her body. Couldn’t she?

She had to.

She turned, pulling free of his hand, and looked past him, but she didn’t see his BMW by the curb. A dark blue Lexus sat in Adam’s usual spot. It wasn’t the first time someone had ignored the sign marking his reserved parking place. She scanned the street, but didn’t see Adam’s convertible in any of the other spaces, and the valet wouldn’t arrive until later this evening. That meant a hike to the parking deck, which was one of the reasons—besides the prohibitive cost of parking—Lauryn always rode the bus. Thank goodness for her preference for flat-heeled shoes.

Adam reached into his pocket, withdrew a key ring and hit a button. The Lexus’s lights flashed. He dangled the keys in front of her. “You wear a lot of blue. I hope that means you like it.”

“What?” She gaped at the small SUV and then at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. You’re driving.” When she didn’t reach for the keys he caught her hand, pressed them into her palm and closed her fingers around them.

She didn’t know which startled her more. The pricey car or the contact with Adam. She’d have to work harder at reining in this taboo attraction. “I have a decent car.”

“Now you have a better one. Keep the old one or sell it. I don’t care.”

“But…”

“Appearances, Lauryn. It’s all about appearances.” He checked traffic and then opened the driver’s door for her. “Let’s go. Brandon’s staying after hours for us.”

She slid into the buttery soft leather seat, filled her lungs with that new-car smell and checked out the tinted sunroof. Compared to her four-year-old economy sedan, this car’s dashboard looked like something NASA built. GPS and satellite radio. Who knew what the other gizmos were? Her hand trembled as she slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine.

Adam climbed into the passenger seat. “You’ve delivered documents to Brandon for me before. Remember where his office is?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t looking forward to maneuvering a brand-new luxury vehicle through rush-hour traffic.

Adam gave her perhaps five minutes to get accustomed to the way the car handled before speaking again. “Bahamas law requires us to be in the country twenty-four hours before we can apply for a marriage license. We’ll leave tomorrow morning, get married Thursday evening and then come home Monday morning and move our stuff into the house.”

Thursday? She gulped. “So soon?”

“Waiting wastes time.”

“You’re willing to leave Estate that long?”

“The staff will survive without me, and Sandy will fill in for you.”

He had it all figured out. “Sandy’s my predecessor?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t have time for the makeover you requested by tomorrow.”

She kept her eyes on traffic but caught his shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Do it on the island. Cassie’s well put-together. She can tell you where to go.”

All too soon they reached the high-rise housing Washington & Associates. Because so many of the building’s workers were making the evening exodus, Lauryn easily found a spot near the entrance. She parked and climbed from the car. The knot between her shoulders from driving the unfamiliar vehicle sank to her stomach and expanded with each step she took beside Adam toward their destination.

He ushered her into the elevator and up to the law offices of Washington & Associates. A woman Lauryn guessed to be in her sixties waited for them by the reception desk with a big smile lined on her face. On past visits Lauryn had always left packages with the receptionist, who wasn’t behind her desk.

“What is this I hear about an engagement? Both of your brothers, then Brandon and now you. Have the men in Miami suddenly become smarter?”

“Hello Rachel.” Adam pulled the diminutive woman into a hug and then released her and extended his hand toward Lauryn. “This is Lauryn Lowes, my fiancée. Lauryn, this is Rachel Suarez.”

Lauryn reluctantly put her left hand in Adam’s and let him tug her forward. The shocking heat of his touch seeped up her arm and then oozed down deep inside her, but the woman thankfully broke the spell by enfolding Lauryn’s right hand in both of hers.

“He’ll be a good husband as long as you keep him on a short leash,” she whispered.

Wide-eyed, Lauryn darted a quick glance at Adam to see if he’d heard, but his face remained impassive.

“Thanks for that tip,” she replied and received a wink in return.

Movement down the hall drew Lauryn’s attention. Brandon Washington strolled toward them. He was Adam’s height, attractive and African-American. Lauryn had spoken with him on numerous occasions when he stopped by Estate.

The men shook hands and clapped shoulders before Brandon greeted her with a nod. Lauryn nodded back and tried to smile.

Adam indicated Mrs. Suarez. “Is she still running this place?”

“She likes to think so,” Brandon replied. The warmth in his eyes belied his firm voice. “Let’s step into my office.” Brandon turned to Mrs. Suarez. “Give us five minutes and then join us, please.”

Lauryn’s mouth dried. The deal was all but done. Her feet felt weighted as she followed the men across the carpet. The point of no return lay directly ahead.

But if she walked away what would she have learned about her mother? Not enough. Not nearly enough. And she’d probably lose her job, too, for leading Adam on and then reneging.

The door closed behind them, sealing them into Brandon’s office. He faced them across his desk and waited until they were seated before asking Adam, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Dark brown eyes lasered in on Lauryn’s. “Are you?”

“I—” She covered her flash of panic by clearing her throat and handing over the folder. “I am.”

Brandon accepted it and withdrew the prenuptial agreement and marriage contract. “Did you have any questions, Lauryn? Is there anything that requires clarification?”

Is there another way? “No.”

“She didn’t have a lawyer read the agreements,” Adam said.

Brandon stilled. “Would you like me to have one of my associates come in and go over the documents? I can assure you he’d be unbiased.”

“No. I’m comfortable with the contracts.”

Brandon nodded. “Once you get to the Bahamas you’ll have to provide proof of arrival time in the country. The airport should be able to give you that. Then you’ll swear before the U.S. Consul at the American Embassy that you’re single American citizens who wish to get married. The next day you’ll visit the Registrar General’s office to get your license. No blood tests are required, but Adam says you’re both going to be tested tomorrow morning anyway. Good decision.”

That was news. Lauryn looked at Adam. He stared back. He must really believe he’d be able to charm her into bed.

Not going to happen, she told him silently with her eyes.

One corner of his mouth lifted, and she could practically hear his thoughts. Wanna bet?

“Lauryn, are you divorced or widowed?” Brandon asked as he laid the documents on the desk in front of them.

“Um…no.” She’d been told annulments didn’t count. Legally it was as if her marriage had never happened, which was only fitting since she couldn’t remember the ceremony. Her skin burned with shame over that low point in her life. She’d just as soon nobody ever knew how stupid she’d been.

“Then that’s all the paperwork you’ll need. Cassie has arranged the rental of a cottage for you on a private beach. She’s also hired the minister, photographer and caterers. The ceremony will take place Thursday evening on the beach at sunset. Cassie and I will be your witnesses. I’ll issue a press release afterward. Any questions?”

Cold permeated Lauryn’s hands and feet. She shook her head because she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d tried.

A tap sounded on the door. It opened and Mrs. Suarez poked her salt-and-pepper head through the gap. “Ready for me?”

“Perfect timing as always,” Brandon answered.

The petite woman bustled in carrying her notary stamp.

Brandon offered Lauryn a pen. “Lauryn, you sign first.”

It took a second to find her nerve. She accepted the pen with an almost steady hand and scratched her name and the date where he indicated, first on the marriage contract and then on the prenuptial agreement. Adam did the same. And then Mrs. Suarez affixed her notary stamp, date and signature to each.

Done.

Heavy doubts rumbled through Lauryn like a California mud slide followed by a weird kind of numbness as Brandon matter-of-factly collected the documents and returned them to the file folder.

“I’ll make sure you each have copies and I’ll see you Thursday.” Brandon stood and then extended his hand.

Thursday.

In forty-eight hours she’d be a married woman. Again.

And this time she couldn’t call daddy to fix her mistake.

* * *

“Will you marry me, Lauryn?”

Stunned, Lauryn stared at Adam. The buzz in her ears drowned out the conversations around them in the elegant, exclusive restaurant. Or maybe a hush had fallen over the eavesdropping patrons awaiting her response.

She didn’t know much about diamonds, but she’d bet the one pinched between Adam’s finger and thumb cost a mint. The marquis stone had to be at least two carats. She forced her gaze from the mesmerizing sparkler to his eyes. Serious. Compelling. Intensely blue.

“I—I—”

Even though they hadn’t rehearsed this, even though he’d surprised her with this very public proposal, she knew what she was supposed to say. She just couldn’t get her mouth to work.

Flowers. Crystal. Candlelight. A strolling violinist. A prime table overlooking the bay. Adam had planned the perfect setting for a proposal.

And it was all fake. As fake as their marriage would be.

“Lauryn, baby, don’t leave me hanging. You know we belong together.”

She heard the warning in his deep voice and pressed a hand over her frantically beating heart. This wasn’t right. And yet what choice did she have if she wanted to learn the truth?

Answer the man.

“Y-yes,” she heard herself say. “Yes, Adam, I’ll marry you.”

A spattering of applause startled and embarrassed her. These days she hated being a spectacle as much as she’d once thrived on such attention. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut and then met Adam’s gaze. He wore a wide smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes—as he slipped the ring on her finger. And then he stood and pulled her into his arms.

His mouth covered hers so quickly she froze in shock. She hadn’t expected such a public first kiss, nor had she expected his mouth to be soft. Or gentle. Or warm. Or persuasive. Or delicious. He sipped from her lips the way he had from his wineglass earlier.

Not that she’d been watching his mouth. Much.

He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, leaning his forehead against hers. “Put your arms around my neck.”

His lips brushed hers with each whispered word and the eroticism nearly melted her. She lifted her arms as directed and his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. The embrace mashed her breasts against the hard, hot wall of his chest and fused her hips to his. Desire swept through her like a California canyon fire, searing her deep inside. She planted her hands against his lapels, broke the kiss and looked away—right into the eyes of Helene Ainsley two tables away.

It’s all about appearances, Adam had said.

And Lauryn had better not forget it. That’s all this was. A charade. A setup. A chance for him to paint a convincing picture for the business council nominating committee. The heat in Lauryn’s veins turned to ice.

Adam reclaimed her hand and carried it to his lips. He kissed her knuckle below the ring and reseated her. Leaning over her, he caressed her shoulders and then pressed another scorching kiss to the tender skin beneath her ear. Goose bumps rose on her skin.

Not good. She really, really didn’t want to want him.

“Very convincing. Good job,” he murmured low enough that only she could hear.

The waiter arrived immediately with a bottle of champagne and presented the label for inspection.

Oh yes, Adam had definitely planned this—right down to preordering his favorite vintage of the Salon Blanc champagne. Lauryn knew his preferences because the club kept the brand in stock. Rumor had it that when he requested a bottle he’d chosen his bedmate for the night.

Lauryn didn’t want to be just another woman to share his sheets and his champagne. She’d better not forget the Adam Garrisons of this world bought what they wanted.

He might have bought her participation, but he couldn’t buy her self-respect. And that meant she had to stay out of his bed no matter how easily he’d awoken the passionate hedonist she thought she’d buried years ago. Because when the hedonist came out to play, her common sense went away.

And she refused to be another man’s puppet.

Lauryn stopped dead on the asphalt. “What is that?”

“A Columbia 400, turbo,” Adam said with enough pride in his voice to clamp an iron band around Lauryn’s chest. “My plane. Your ride,” he added, confirming her worst fears.

He covered the last ten yards in quick, long strides and set their luggage down beside a tiny white airplane with a shiny propeller on its nose. His hand dipped into his pocket, reappearing with a set of keys.

She closed her eyes and gulped. This is so not good.

She should have known he wasn’t just taking a different route to Miami International when he headed west of town.

Lauryn’s shaking legs carried her forward at a much slower pace. “Why can’t we fly commercial? You know, big jets with trained pilots, copilots and air hostesses who bring drinks?”

“Too slow.” He shoved his aviator sunglasses into his hair and looked directly into her eyes as if he believed his calm assuredness would be contagious. “I am a trained pilot. I’ve had a license since I turned sixteen. You’ll be safe with me.”

Someone called out to him. Adam turned and walked to meet a guy in a khaki flight suit coming out of one of the hangars.

“I do not have a death wish,” she muttered.

“Neither do I,” he called over his shoulder.

She waited until he finished his conversation and returned. “I’ve never flown in a private plane.”

“Good. I’ll be your first, and I’ll make it good for you.” The gleam in his eyes as he opened a door on the side of the aircraft was purely sexual. Her body responded accordingly, warming, moistening. She shook off the unwanted response.

“My father died in a plane crash.”

Compassion softened Adam’s features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I take good care of my plane and I’ll take care of you.”

She wavered.

“Statistically, you’re less likely to be in an accident in a plane than in a car. Climb in. Sit in the right front seat.”

Her feet stayed planted. “Adam, I get seasick.”

“Seasick and airsick are not the same. Trust me, Lauryn.”

He grabbed her cold hands and carried them to the warmth of his cheeks, sandwiching her icy fingers between his smooth-shaven jaw and his warm palms. And then he leaned in and kissed her. One gentle, coaxing caress of his lips against hers followed another and another until the beginnings of arousal edged the fear from her stiff limbs. She was on the verge of responding, of threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, when he lifted his head.

“Trust me,” he repeated.

She was stuck. He was going to force her to ride in that dinky tin can. Grimacing, she pulled her hands free. “On three conditions. A, if I absolutely hate it you let me fly home on a regular plane. B, no fancy acrobatics. And C, I don’t want to hear anything about the mile-high club. Not one word.”

He grinned. “Deal. Now climb in.”

He handed her into a compartment barely four feet high and wide. There were two leather bucket seats in the cabin and two more up front. She squeezed between the front seats and groaned as she sank into the one on the right. She was surrounded by glass, and she’d be able to see exactly how high they were off the ground. She buckled her seat belt. Tight.

She couldn’t believe her father had flown for a living. Flying hadn’t just been his job, it had been his passion.

Ten minutes later Adam eased his long frame in beside her. She gripped the armrests and watched him prepare for flight. Headset. Buttons. Dozens of them. And the she noticed the twin screens on the dash. One was GPS. She couldn’t identify the other one. The propeller started, vibrating the plane.

He leaned over and pushed a headset over her hair. “Can you hear me now?”

He winked. Her stomach knotted. She closed her eyes.

Minutes passed while Adam communicated with the tower in the take-charge voice he used at work. She occupied herself with mental math. How much interest would a million dollars paid in twenty-four installments net over five years, ten, by retirement age?

The plane moved forward, bouncing gently down the runway before gathering speed and lifting off. She knew the exact second they left the ground. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tightened her grip on the armrests.

Moments later Adam’s hand covered hers. “You can look now.”

She eased open one eye and saw blue sky. She opened the other and risked looking down. Her stomach contents didn’t rush to her throat. If anything, she wanted to see more and leaned closer to the window to do so. She could even identify some of the landmarks.

“The water’s so green.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Same color as your eyes.”

She snapped her head toward him and met his gaze. Forget it. He’s a natural-born charmer. Compliments come as easily to him as breathing. But knowing the truth didn’t lessen the impact of his words. “Thank you.”

“Want to fly over the club and the estate before we head east?”

She considered it, realized she didn’t feel the least bit sick and nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”

He didn’t have to be nice. He had her where he wanted her, had her contracted to do exactly as he wished.

But it touched her that he made an effort.

Like a deer trapped in the headlights, Adam couldn’t turn away from the view outside the window.

Mouthwatering curves. Amazing legs.

Cassie said something to Lauryn as the women walked toward the trunk of Cassie’s car and Lauryn looked up at the cottage. Her gaze collided with his and the air dammed in his lungs.

She’s beautiful. How had he missed that?

The raw material had to have been there because there was no way Lauryn could have worked major miracles in the five hours since Cassie had met their plane at the Nassau airport and whisked Lauryn away for an afternoon of shopping and…whatever. Adam had been more than happy to dodge that bullet by picking up the car Garrison, Inc. kept on the island and driving it and their luggage to the house.

Cassie hauled a number of shopping bags from the trunk and passed them to Lauryn. Adam snapped out of his trance and headed for the door. His legs felt rubbery as he jogged down the stairs. He blamed it on the blood drawn at his doctor’s this morning and knew he lied.

He stopped beside the women. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins making him hyperaware of his bride-to-be. Sunlight gleamed off the hair streaming over Lauryn’s shoulders. He’d never seen her hair down, and the urge to test the texture of the champagne-gold strands nearly overwhelmed him.

Thick lashes surrounded her sea-green eyes and a shell-pink gloss coated her lips. The breeze carried her incredible scent.

“Hello again, Adam.”

He heard the smile in Cassie’s voice and forced his stunned gaze from Lauryn to his grinning half sister. She seemed to be enjoying his stupefaction. “Thanks for helping, Cassie.”

“My pleasure. So what do you think?”

His gaze devoured Lauryn from her satiny hair to her pink-painted toenails. He couldn’t begin to put his thoughts into words. How had he ever believed her plain? Had he been so self-absorbed he’d missed the prize right in front of his face?

Apparently so.

“This cottage is one of my favorites,” Cassie continued.

He jerked his attention back to his half sister. She meant the beach house? “It’s very nice. Comfortable. Private.”

“Excellent. I have to run. I have a hot date tonight with your best man. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Cassie, and thanks again,” Lauryn called out as Cassie climbed in her car.

“You’re welcome. I had fun.”

Adam watched the car pull away and then took another long look at Lauryn. He cursed the months of celibacy since his father’s death. Despite what the tabloids said, Adam hadn’t been in the mood to let anyone get close lately—not even physically. As peeved as he was with his father for refusing to acknowledge his accomplishments even after death, Adam still missed the old man.

Bags rattled as Lauryn shifted in her high-heeled sandals—sandals that made her legs look endless.

“Let me have those.” He relieved her of her load, carried the loot inside to the room he’d chosen for her and dumped the bags on her bed. There were fewer bags than he’d expected. He’d expected her to try to bankrupt him.

Lauryn entered behind him. She scanned the space and then crossed the tile floor to peek into the luxurious bathroom. Her heels added a hypnotizing sway to her hips that he hadn’t noticed before.

Her conservative clothing didn’t scream “do me” like so many of Estate’s patrons did. But there was a subtle sexiness in the way her new sundress skimmed her curves that yanked his awakened libido like an angler setting his hook.

Last night’s kiss at the restaurant had rocked him with a tsunami of unexpected hunger. The one at the airport this morning had rocked him, too. And that was before he’d seen his soon-to-be wife looking like this.

He wanted her. Need pulsed in his gut. But he’d promised to abide by her no-sex rule until she said otherwise.

And dammit, he prided himself on being a man of his word.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to change her mind. But not until after the wedding. Judging by the wariness in her eyes if he tried to seduce her tonight he’d be missing a fiancée before the ceremony tomorrow.

“My bedroom’s across the den.” Desire roughened his voice.

“Okay.” She looked and sounded relieved.

If he wanted to sleep better tonight than he had last night he needed to get out of this room, out of this house before he started picturing Lauryn wearing nothing but sleek, wet skin and a dusting of bubbles in that whirlpool tub. With him beside or beneath her.

Too late. He stifled a groan.

“Where are your glasses?” he asked in an attempt to sideline his illicit thoughts.

White teeth pinched her bottom lip and she wrinkled her nose. She looked so damned adorably guilty he almost whimpered. “I…um, don’t really need them.”

“Why in the hell did you hide behind shapeless clothing and ugly glasses?” It made no sense. The women he knew flaunted their assets. Hell, they paid good money to have bigger, better assets implanted.

“I learned not to draw attention to my looks a long time ago. Men assume if you’re pretty, you’re stupid and available.”

“And you aren’t available?” He knew she wasn’t stupid.

“Not at the moment.”

Her flip response stirred something unfamiliar in him. Possessiveness? No. Determination to make sure this plan worked. He couldn’t afford slip-ups if he wanted the council and his brothers to believe he’d fallen for his straightlaced accountant and settled down. “And you won’t be until after we’re divorced.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

The certainty in her tone raised red flags. Holy hell, was she gay? Did that explain why no one had seen her on a date? South Beach had a large gay population. Was that the real reason she’d moved to Florida? Because her story about her father had seemed a lame reason to move three thousand miles.

No, Lauryn couldn’t be gay. He hadn’t imagined the attraction between them or the hunger in her eyes. He’d felt the softening of her lips beneath his when he’d kissed her, and he’d heard her breath catch each time he’d touched her.

He wanted to kiss her now. To prove his theory.

But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

Even though his neglected hormones had him in a tailspin.

Forget the candles, flowers and prepared meals he’d asked Cassie to arrange so he and Lauryn could play out the lovebirds-needing-privacy farce. He couldn’t handle a romantic dinner on the deck tonight. He needed crowds. Loud music. A noisy restaurant. Distractions. Anything but an intimate dinner for two.

“We’re eating out tonight. Be ready in ten.”

Lauryn’s brow creased. “Cassie said she’d filled the refrigerator with local dishes for us.”

Damn. He’d hoped his half sister had neglected to mention that detail. “She did.”

Lauryn swept back her champagne locks with a newly manicured hand tipped in pearl-pink polish. The muscles of Adam’s abdomen ripped as if she’d scraped those short nails across his flesh.

“Adam, I’d rather postpone the whole putting-on-a-show-for-the-locals thing, if you don’t mind. I know we have to eventually, but it’s our first night here and I’m kind of whipped. Cassie is a shopping machine. Surely if anyone is paying attention to our itinerary they’d expect us to want to be alone sometimes?”

Now that she mentioned it, he could see her fatigue in the faint shadows beneath her eyes and the slight downward turn of her mouth.

For sanity’s sake he should be a bastard and insist on going out, but instead he ground his teeth on a frustrated curse.

It was going to be a long night.

“Pick whatever you want to eat and shove it in the microwave. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in an hour.”

And then Adam did something he’d never done before.

He ran from a woman.


Five

Thursday. Her wedding day.

Lauryn had never been claustrophobic before, but she was getting there fast. The walls of the spacious oceanfront bedroom seemed to close in around her as the clock inched toward the time set for the ceremony. Her pulse raced and her mouth felt as dry and gritty as the sand dunes outside the cottage.

The silk chiffon of her strapless ivory tea-length dress fluttered against her shins as she paced from the window to the door and back, again and again, and the lace bolero jacket abraded her neck and shoulders. Since the ceremony would take place on the beach she’d decided against wearing shoes, and the floor tiles further chilled her already cold bare feet.

Cold feet. Appropriate.

She couldn’t help comparing this wedding to her first. Her ex had had an agenda. So did Adam. Only Adam’s wasn’t illegal and no one would get hurt. Or arrested. Plus Lauryn knew what she was getting into this time. At least she hoped she did.

At eighteen and a day, she’d been incredibly young, naive and hardheaded when her father had forbidden her to see Tommy Saunders again. She’d foolishly believed herself old enough and wise enough to know better than her father. She and her dad had had another one of their legendary screaming matches, but this time Lauryn’s mother hadn’t played mediator the way she usually did when Lauryn’s father went all dictatorial.

Afterward Lauryn had hidden in her room and called Tommy to vent. He’d insisted she was of age and her father couldn’t tell her what to do anymore. On a wave of righteous indignation she’d agreed to go to Mexico with Tommy for spring break. Two days later she’d packed her bags, lied about spending the week at the beach with a girlfriend and left. Not one of her finest decisions.

In Tijuana Tommy had plied her with tequila and then asked her to marry him. She’d almost agreed, but even tipsy she’d known better than to cross her father that drastically.

The next morning she’d awoken hungover and with a cheap wedding ring on her finger that she couldn’t remember putting there. When she’d freaked out Tommy had admitted he’d slipped something into her drink to loosen her inhibitions and help her make the decision he knew she really wanted to make.

His high-handedness had worried her but she’d loved him enough to make excuses for him. She hadn’t panicked until he revealed his scheme over lunch to make them both rich and then she’d suddenly felt queasy and afraid.

Blaming her hangover, she’d excused herself to go to the bathroom, slipped out the backdoor of the cantina, found a phone and called her father.

That was the last time Lauryn had rebelled. After her father had rescued her from that disaster she’d become the perfect dutiful daughter, a straight-A student and as prim and proper as Emily Post.

Emily Post wouldn’t be eloping in the Bahamas or neglecting to invite her mother to the ceremony.

Wincing, Lauryn paused by the glass doors leading to the deck. She hadn’t called because she didn’t want her mother to know about this marriage. Susan would be upset at how far Lauryn was willing to go to gain information about her birthmother, and she’d be hurt. She’d view this as another sign that she’d failed Lauryn as a parent. But other than not revealing the secret of Lauryn’s birthmother sooner, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Lauryn studied the beach below her bedroom and tried to calm her agitated nerves. The flowered archway Cassie had ordered for the ceremony stood in the sand between the cottage and the lapping waves. The photographer hustled around checking shot angles or light or whatever it was photographers did.

The doorbell followed by muffled voices penetrated the closed bedroom door. Was that Cassie? The need to see a friendly face overwhelmed her. Lauryn yanked open the door.

Adam, Brandon and Cassie turned in unison.

“I take it you’re not superstitious,” Cassie said.

“I’m not.” Lauryn’s gaze slid to Adam as if dragged by a strong riptide. A black tuxedo complimented his ink-dark hair, made his shoulders look broader and his legs longer. His white shirt accentuated his tan and made his blue eyes and the flash of teeth in his slow smile seem brighter. He looked like every girl’s fantasy groom. Handsome. Wealthy.

Sexy.

She tamped down that thought and dampened her dry lips.

No one will respect or value you if you don’t respect and value yourself, her father’s words came back to her.

So no sex and no more Mr. Right Nows. Not even the one she’d marry in a few minutes.

“If it’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the ceremony then we’re already cursed. Adam and I spent most of the day driving from one official’s office to another’s dealing with the legalities of this…marriage.”

Adam crossed the room, looped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Lauryn stiffened automatically. She couldn’t let him keep getting to her like he’d done at the restaurant and airport. The heat of his body singed her at every contact point—breasts, waist, hips, thighs. He feathered his lips across hers and then lifted his head a fraction of an inch. Warning flashed in his eyes.

“You look beautiful, Lauryn.”

Even knowing his compliment was part of the act didn’t stifle the pleasure his words sent eddying through her.

“Thank you. So do you.” Her cheeks warmed. She briefly ducked her head before daring to look into his eyes again. “I mean, you look good in a tux.”

He dipped his head again. She forced herself to remain passive as he sipped from her lips once, twice more. Her heart raced and desire tugged like an undercurrent in her belly. She’d have to get used to being handled by him, kissed by him. But she had to shut down her response.

She heard Cassie’s sigh. The woman believed this to be a true love match. Lauryn liked her new friend too much to lie to her, but Adam had ordered her to keep their secret.

Ordered. The back of Lauryn’s neck prickled.

Only Brandon knew the truth behind this hasty marriage and Adam wanted to keep it that way.

On the pretext of examining the small wedding cake sitting in the center of the dining room table Lauryn wiggled free. Adam let her go, but she could feel his gaze on her back. She fought the urge to lick her lips and lost. His taste lingered on her mouth and left her hungry for more.

Two bottles of champagne waited in sterling silver ice buckets on a sideboard and through the open kitchen door she spotted a pair of workers hustling around preparing food, presumably for the feast after the ceremony. Brandon, Cassie and the minister were staying for a wedding dinner. As much as Lauryn dreaded the lovey-dovey pretense, having company meant delaying the time alone with her groom, and that was good.

Last night… She exhaled slowly, trying to ease her overstretched nerves. Last night had been a nightmare. She couldn’t remember ever being so aware of another person. Every shift of Adam’s body on the sofa, each rustle of his clothing or chink of his glass on the coffee table had sounded as loud as a ship’s horn. Finally, tension had driven Lauryn to her room for an early night of reading. Attempted reading. But a romance with steamy love scenes wasn’t what she needed when she wanted to douse any potential flames for her groom. Even with the door closed she’d been aware of Adam’s movements throughout the cottage.

Their marriage might be a business deal, but the whole wedding thing seemed so real. So…permanent. But it wasn’t. And she didn’t want it to be. One day she’d find the right man to build a future with—one who’d marry her because he loved her and not because he had a hidden agenda for marrying.

Like her father had had for marrying Susan. Like Tommy and Adam had for marrying Lauryn. Surely all men weren’t that conniving? There had to be some good guys out there somewhere, and when this was over she’d find one.

She forced a smile and turned back to the trio in the den. “Cassie, this is incredible. I can’t believe you pulled it all together so quickly.”

“I’ve enjoyed it. Besides, it’s good practice for when Brandon and I get married.”

“And when is that going to be?” Adam asked.

“Soon,” Brandon replied firmly with his dark eyes intent on Cassie.

Lauryn wanted a man who looked at her the way Brandon looked at Cassie—with his love shining like a lighthouse beacon from his eyes.

A brisk knock at the front door made Lauryn jump. Adam headed into the foyer and returned moments later with a dark-skinned, black-suited, white-collared minister by his side. Adam made the introductions.

Lauryn barely heard him through the alarms shrieking like hungry seagulls in her head. She wanted to run. All the way back to California. But she couldn’t. Not until she found her answers.

She dug her toes into the rough sisal rug and the movement drew Adam’s attention.

“Excuse me,” he said and left the room. Moments later he returned without his shoes and socks. Lauryn’s heart blipped irregularly. Adam had looked sexy before, but there was something dangerously appealing about a barefooted, tux-clad man that made her insides feel like a lava lamp.

His eyes met Lauryn’s. “The sun is on the horizon. Ready?”

No. “Yes.”

“Shall we?” He crooked his elbow in invitation.

Under a deluge of doubts Lauryn hesitated for precious seconds and then hooked her arm through Adam’s. His muscles shifted beneath her fingers and her nerves and legs quivered.

He handed her a single long-stemmed red rose with an ivory ribbon twined around the thornless stem and then led her out the back door, down the porch stairs and across the warm sand to the archway.

An ocean breeze teased her hair, lifting the unbound strands and pulling at the wreath of flowers she wore instead of a veil. Adam caught a stray lock and smoothed it behind her ear. His fingertips glided down the hollow of her neck. She shivered. With awareness. With lust. Neither of which were welcome.

Cassie and Brandon flanked them and the beaming minister took his place and launched into the vows. At any other time Lauryn would have found the man’s melodious accented voice beautiful, but the fragrant frame of the arch seemed to enclose her as securely as a locked jail cell.

A cold fog descended over her. She couldn’t believe she was marrying a man she didn’t love to find out more about a woman who’d discarded her.

But why hadn’t Adrianna wanted her? That question kept Lauryn from running. She had to know. And she was counting on Adam’s house holding the answers.

Adam’s warm hands tightened around Lauryn’s icy fingers. Did he sense her doubts? Her growing panic?

Too late to back out now.

As if he were willing her to finish what they’d started, his gaze never left hers as he stated his vows in a deep, steady baritone. If he had any doubts about the deception they were perpetrating he concealed them well. His hands were steady as he slid a platinum diamond eternity band onto her trembling finger next to the sparkling marquis.

And then it was Lauryn’s turn. She numbly repeated the words the minister fed her and prayed this wasn’t as big a mistake as her first wedding. She’d trusted Tommy and he’d betrayed her. Would Adam do the same?

She looked at the strong hand in her palm as she eased the wide platinum band they’d bought this morning over Adam’s knuckle. Because he’d refused to put their amended agreement in writing, only his word would keep him from consummating their marriage tonight. Or any other night. Could she trust him?

A little late to worry about that now, isn’t it?

A whirlpool of mixed emotions churned within her. This was so wrong. She was taking vows. Vows she had no intention of keeping. And yet what other choice did she have?

“I now pronounce you mon,” the minister pronounced island-style, “and wife. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Garrison.”

Mrs. Garrison.

Before she could digest those words Adam cupped her face in his palms and covered her mouth with his. This wasn’t a tentative seal-the-deal peck. Adam kissed like a man assured of his welcome. His mouth branded hers, stamping her with ownership, and then his tongue separated her lips and swept the sensitive inside of her mouth as if he had every right to be there.

Tasting. Teasing. Tempting.

His kiss invited her to a party of sensual delights she had no doubt a man of his experience could provide. She hadn’t had a lover since Tommy, and he’d been a twenty-three-yearold selfish jerk. The men before Tommy had been just as clumsy, just as selfish.

Adam’s kiss promised satisfaction and she felt her control slipping. He overwhelmed her senses with his taste, his scent, his touch, and her hormones did a rain dance in hopes of ending the nine-year drought. The kiss felt so good, so right, that she lost herself in a hot rush of need, dug her toes in the shifting sand and pushed herself deeper into his embrace. Every inch of her body yearned to accept his invitation, to find out if lovemaking could actually be as good as it was in the romance novels she read.

She vaguely registered the birds screeching overhead, the waves crashing nearby, but it was Cassie’s laughter that jarred Lauryn back to reality.

What are you doing?

She ripped her mouth free.

Adam breathed harshly. Hunger blazed in his eyes as he held her gaze, and she realized her mistake. She’d done a lot of less than honorable things in her time, things that made her cringe with shame. But she’d never been a tease.

That kiss, laden with years of pent-up passion, had promised something she had no intention of delivering.

“Sober enough to come to the phone?”

Lauryn nearly choked on her champagne when she heard Adam’s question as she reentered the den after changing out of her wedding dress.

Okay, so maybe this was her second glass since Cassie and Brandon had left, and she’d had one two hours ago after dinner with her slice of wedding cake. Still, she should switch to coffee unless she wanted another wedding night like her first. One she couldn’t remember. Drowning her nerves and her doubts wasn’t working, anyway.

Adam’s discarded tux jacket draped the back of a nearby chair. He stood facing the darkness outside the glass doors with both elbows bent beside his head and his white dress shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders. The table lamp reflected off his wedding band drawing her attention to the cell phone pressed to his left ear.





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