скачать книгу бесплатно
“Maybe there is someone.”
Her head jerked up. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny, Michael. Please…I don’t feel like sparring now.”
“I’m not sparring. And I’m not joking. Maybe I’ve got a solution for you.”
Any hesitation he felt was doomed, once he saw the flare of intense joy in her eyes. Quickly, she banked it, holding herself stiffly as if afraid to trust his words. Her tone was guarded as she responded. “And what might that solution be?”
Here goes nothing. He felt a swift inner clench as he opened his mouth to speak.
“You could marry me.”
Suzanne would have thought despair had dulled her capacity for shock, but obviously not. Dire as her situation was, she felt stunned laughter bubble up in her throat. “You’re kidding, right?”
Eyes the color of moss by a mountain stream never wavered. “I’ve got all the qualifications—money, stability, solid background, good reputation.” He grinned, though it seemed a little forced. “Even got all my teeth.”
Her shocked laughter died out quickly. “I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?”
He clucked his tongue. “Such a cynic.” But she caught the hollowness in his eyes as he glanced away.
“Michael, this is ridiculous.”
His gaze clicked back to hers. “But it solves your problem, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, and unleashes about a zillion more. We can’t even be in the same room without arguing. We’re as different as night and day. You’ve got a different future. One of these days you’re going to fall in love with one of the babes you’ve always got stashed away, have a rich baby or two and live the perfect life in a perfect house.”
“No.” His jaw flexed. “I’m not falling in love again. Not ever. That’s over for me.” For one instant, something dark and wounded peered out from deep inside his eyes. Quickly he shuttered them, so quickly she might have imagined it.
The very thought shocked her. She’d never thought of Michael Longstreet as anything but on top of his game. That was the man everyone knew: easy to laugh, comfortable inside his skin, a confident leader of men. She’d never thought his razor-sharp mind capable of being clouded by the messy emotions real people felt.
“What do you mean ‘again’?”
One sharp glance told her the topic was closed for discussion. He shrugged, then flashed her the old killer grin she’d seen charm any number of women since she’d first met him. She’d never thought of it as hiding anything but idle rich-boy carelessness before.
“Don’t change the subject. It would solve your problem, right?” he asked.
Suzanne blinked, then shook her head. “Why would you do such a thing? Especially for me. You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true.” His tone was emphatic. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He shoved his plate away and leaned closer. “I like your mind.” When she snorted, he didn’t give. “No, it’s true. I respect your mind and your passion for what you do. I don’t have to agree with your approach in order to respect you or to know that you’re motivated by the best of intentions.”
“Then why are you so often the roadblock for my ideas?”
“Because you’re impulsive and you let your heart rule your head. You go off half-cocked. You can’t expect the whole world to fall in line simply because it feels so right to you. People don’t work that way.”
“You are so wrong.” Suzanne’s temper spiked.
Then she heard him chuckle.
One dark eyebrow lifted as she illustrated his point perfectly.
She shoved her fingers into her hair. “It would never work. We’d kill each other and Bobby would be an orphan again.”
His eyes softened. “I don’t think it would go quite that far, as long as we gave each other wide berth.”
A spark of hope glimmered. “So it would all be a sham? We’d only pretend to be married?”
“We’d have to make it legal. I’d imagine Jim’s cousin would check. You’d have to live with me.”
“Not forever, though. Just until I could adopt Bobby legally. Then she could never take him.”
“We’d have to both adopt him. The courts aren’t going to give custody in a situation where the husband doesn’t want to be involved. As a birth mother who has terminated her rights in order for him to be adopted in the first place, you’re no different in the eyes of the court than Joe Blow off the street.”
She knew it was true, but hearing it from him was like a knife blade to the pain she’d carried around ever since the day she’d signed those papers.
“I don’t understand you at all. Why would you want to do this?”
His jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”
“Uh-uh. No dice, Rich Boy. I had to spill my guts, now you start talking, too.”
For a moment his eyes looked hard and cold as ice. He glanced away, then sighed deeply. He studied the scarred tabletop as he spoke. “My father has been ill for many years. Ever since I was twelve and he had a massive heart attack, his health has been precarious and every day was a bonus. For too many years I forgot that, but I’ve tried to make it up to him since I moved back.” He glanced up quickly through thick brown lashes. “He had pneumonia this winter, and it put a terrible strain on his already-damaged heart. His doctor says he’s weakening pretty dramatically lately. I can see it myself.”
He stopped and toyed with his glass of iced tea, skimming wet circles on the table. She tried not to notice his long fingers, his capable hands. Then he looked at her squarely. “He wants badly to see me settled, wants to see me happily married and building a future like the one he’s always wanted for me.”
“But I can’t—”
He shook his head vigorously. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen. That’s not my future. I like my life just fine as it is.”
“So what is this, Michael? Why are you talking to me about—”
“I could give him the illusion. That’s little enough for me to do. I can’t do anything else for him anymore, but I could do this. I could give him a reason to think that the future he’s convinced I need is within reach. He won’t last long enough for me to give him a grandchild, but I could give him the hope, if you’d help me.”
“What about Bobby? I couldn’t stay married too long. I wouldn’t want Bobby to get attached to you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. He’s young enough not to care about the legal issues. I’ll just be a friend. I actually like kids a lot.” There it was again, that swift stab of pain in his eyes. “But I won’t try to win your son over. And as soon as permanent custody is granted and my dad is gone, we can get a painless divorce. I’ll pay child support—I can afford it. I wouldn’t want your son to suffer because of any of this.”
She stiffened. “You aren’t going to buy me off. I’m through with rich boys buying their way out of things.”
“I’m not the rich boy who hurt you, Suzanne. If monthly support isn’t acceptable, then let me give you a settlement for his college education.”
“This isn’t about money. If we did this crazy thing, I’d be responsible for all my expenses and Bobby’s.”
A tiny smile flickered on that too-handsome face. “I doubt you make enough to pay my electric bill.”
“I’m not going to be indebted to you for money.” Just as she felt temper flaring, she beat it back. He was being decent, and her pride was striking out.
Suzanne reached across the table for his hand. The feel of his skin jolted her, made her very aware of the reality of what she was doing. But she was also deeply grateful. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to leaning on other people. I can’t lean on you. If I could do this alone, I would, but you’re right. It’s a godsend. I don’t want your money, though. It’s enough—more than enough—that you’d do this to help me get back my son.”
She could feel tears threatening, but she couldn’t give in. In the morning they’d probably both decide that the whole idea was insane. But just in case, she had to set the ground rules.
“Separate bedrooms. If my money won’t go far enough, we’ll keep an account. I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll play whatever part is needed to convince your father.” She drew a deep breath. “And no settlement at the end.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “You can’t tell me what to do with my money. If I want to set up a college fund for the boy, I’ll damn well do it.”
“You will not—” She exhaled in a gust and fell back against the booth. “This is hopeless. It would be worse for Bobby to go into a home where there’s fighting than to be with Jim’s cousin.”
“I never took you for a quitter,” he said, settling back against the booth. But his eyes bored into her. “It’s not hopeless unless you let it be. Difficult, yes, but not hopeless. We’ll put on a great show in public and give each other wide berth in private.”
“And what will Bobby think? He’ll be there in private with us.”
“We’ll keep things very civil and pleasant. You can restrain yourself enough to do that, right, Suzanne?” His gaze dared her to admit she lacked self-control. “I’ll be good to the boy, I told you that. You’ll give him the love he needs. You’re the expert on children, and you want to raise him alone anyway. If he doesn’t get attached to me, it will make things easier in the long run. But that doesn’t mean he and I can’t be friends.” His smile was wry. “Believe it or not, any number of people seem to think I’m pretty good at being a friend.”
Shame washed over her. He was making her a very generous offer, giving her a path to a dream she’d held so long that it had woven itself into the fiber of her soul. She could have her son back, and all she had to do was to pretend to be happily married to Michael when they were out in public.
He wasn’t an ogre. He never had been. They didn’t see eye to eye on politics, but he’d never been unkind to her. There was more than a little truth in his assessment—she led with her heart, always had. Just because he didn’t wasn’t wrong, it just wasn’t her way.
“What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if you’re crazy about Bobby and don’t want to let me have him?”
“That—” his voice grew tight “—will not happen.” He huffed out a breath. “Look, Suzanne, if you want me to put it in writing, I will. I don’t want a family. I don’t need one.”
“Why not?” She’d often thought him some sort of Casanova, some perpetual playboy with an Ivy League mind. Now she knew she’d judged him too quickly. There was a story here, and she wanted to know it.
“I had a family I loved very much. They’re gone. End of story.”
She’d heard once that he’d been a widower for years, but no details. “What happened?”
She was shocked to see his eyes hollowed out by grief. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
Shame washed over her again. “I’m sorry, Michael.” She reached for his hand, but he jerked it away.
There was pain here, and it was deep. Why had she never suspected? He’d perfected his cover, that was why. She had bought the fiction of a man who was everyone’s friend, whose life was a breeze.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine. It’s over.”
He was dead wrong. He’d erected barriers fathoms deep and oceans wide, but he hadn’t dealt with his grief, merely buried it.
His demeanor made it abundantly clear that the topic wasn’t up for discussion. And truthfully, he’d just given her the best assurance she could have that he wouldn’t want to claim her son. He had a child of his own who still resided in his heart, alive or not.
She should accept this boon for what it was—a very generous gift. He had reasons to need this marriage and so did she. They were reasonable people. And it was only for a little while. Only temporary. She’d lived with a hole in her heart for ten years. She’d have her child back, the child she’d never quit missing. She could play her part in the charade that would make that possible.
“All right. I think we understand each other and what we need and don’t need, what we want and don’t want. You’ll help me get my son, and I’ll help you make your father happy. As soon as possible, we’ll go our own ways, but in the meantime, we’ll deal together as reasonable people and try to make it as easy on each other as we can. Deal?” She held out her hand.
His mood lightened. His mouth quirked in a grin. “You won’t strain something trying to be reasonable, will you?” He closed his large, warm hand over hers, and she felt the jolt again.
“It depends. Do you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor?”
He laughed then, dimples winking, his even white teeth flashing. For one second, something inside her shivered as his very maleness swamped her.
“No. I have my faults, but that’s not one of them.”
She pulled her hand away, but she could still feel the heat of him buzzing beneath her skin. “Have we lost our minds, trying this?”
“Probably. But let’s do it anyway.” He stood and extended his hand to her. “Walk out with me. We need to get started convincing people that we’re a couple.”
Hesitantly, she slipped her hand in his, let him tug her to her feet.
But he didn’t stop there. He pulled her into his arms and before she could react, lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was quick but lethal. Michael lifted his head and stared at her, his own confusion mirroring hers.
Suzanne knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t seem to do it. The sense of safety in his strong arms was seductive. It felt far better than it should.
Mistake, her mind kept trying to say to her.
But before her voice could catch up, Michael lowered his mouth to hers once more.
And this time it wasn’t quick. It wasn’t casual.
It was more lethal. Devastating. When one arm tightened around her and the other hand slid into her hair, Suzanne felt her legs turn to jelly, her brain overload.
All the fire that had sparked between them in words in the past raced to a four-alarm blaze when they touched. As though they belonged to someone else, her arms slid around his trim waist, her hands sliding over the long muscles of his back, her mouth surrendering to his, her body softening against him.
Her response was gasoline splashed on flames. His powerful body tightened against her, and she thought she heard someone moan softly before she realized it was her own voice.
Michael broke off the kiss and let her go, then quickly pulled her back. She’d seen those green eyes in many guises, but she’d never seen them hot. And bewildered. Very much like her own must be.
Suzanne shivered. Michael dropped his arms and stepped back.
“This—” His voice was rough. It felt like sandpaper on her too-sensitized skin. “This could be a problem.”
She realized that many patrons had turned their way. Bobby, she thought. My baby. Nothing else mattered.
“It won’t happen again,” she said, furious that her voice was shaking.
Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression moving from stunned to almost amused. The heat still simmered in his eyes. “Spontaneous combustion is a force no one can control.”
There were many more facets to Michael Longstreet than she’d seen. She’d need every bit of her wits to pull off this charade.
She struggled to remember the Suzanne Jorgenson who’d traded barbs with him with abandon in council chambers. “Heat lightning,” she said. “It comes, but it doesn’t last. And it doesn’t come often.” She shrugged with an assurance she wished she felt.
One dimple winked at her. The smile was too much. No way would she check to see if the eyes were still smoldering.
“Don’t kid yourself, Suzanne. We’ll strike fire off each other. Often.” But to her relief, he shrugged and clapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “But it’s just sex. And we’re reasonable people, right?”
She thought she heard laughter in his voice, but she wasn’t looking at him again tonight. That was too dangerous by half.
