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“You’ve met my granddaughter,” Walter said, taking a seat in the bloodred desk chair.
“Yes. She seems … nice,” he offered, enjoying using her own word.
The three of them had spent the last twenty minutes chatting and talking about the island. Melinda had left the room just a moment ago and, Sean thought, Walter wasn’t wasting any time.
“Let me be frank,” the older man said, setting his elbows on the desktop and steepling his fingers. “You want to build a hotel on my island. I want my granddaughter happy.”
Sean took a seat in the chair opposite the desk and set one foot atop the other knee and prepared to play dumb. “What’s one have to do with the other?”
Walter gave him a smile and a wink. “You’re single. Wealthy. Reasonably good-looking.”
Wryly, Sean said, “Thank you.”
Tucking his fingertips beneath his chin, Walter continued. “I believe in laying my cards out on the table, how about you?”
“Always best to know what the other man’s holding.”
“Excellent. Then let’s get down to business. I want you to marry my granddaughter. Once you’ve done that, the land is yours.”
If Melinda hadn’t prepared him for this yesterday, Sean thought, he would have fallen out of his chair. Even prepared, even with a deal already in place, he was a little surprised. Amazing to think that in the twenty-first century, women were still being bartered.
Of course, this woman had done the bartering herself and damned if she hadn’t negotiated a hell of a deal.
Walter was waiting for an answer and Sean let him wait. His brain raced with the implications of what he was about to agree to. Getting married, even temporarily, was a huge step. He didn’t want to, but he had spent the better part of last night lying awake trying to come up with a different way to get what he wanted—and he’d come up empty.
Just as, no doubt, Melinda had known he would.
The Stanfords, both of them, were stubborn enough to be Kings.
Tapping his fingers against his knee, Sean asked, “How does Melinda feel about this?”
Walter frowned briefly. “She understands. It’s good for her. Good for the family. Good for the island.”
Unexpectedly, a ripple of anger washed through Sean. If Melinda hadn’t stepped up to chart her own course and make her own deal with Sean, she would have been no more than a bound sacrifice, stretched out across the Stanford altar.
Good for the island.
Who did things like that now?
Frowning, Sean watched the older man and tried to read his eyes. But the old guy must have been a hell of a poker player back in the day. His expression gave away nothing.
“Well?” The older man dropped both hands to the black blotter on his desk. “What do you say?”
There was a lot he should say, Sean thought. He should tell the old man that his granddaughter was worth more than a bargaining chip to be used in a deal. Hell, a couple of hours spent with her had told Sean that much. He should say that Melinda had a sharp mind and a clever way of driving a bargain. He should tell both of the Stanfords to go to hell and take their island with them.
He’d love to tell him that his granddaughter was filling up his mind with tempting thoughts that were destined to go nowhere. That one touch of her hand was enough to set off fires inside him that were still burning hours later.
But he couldn’t tell him that either, so Sean would say nothing about any of it.
“Agreed,” he heard himself say and saw the flicker of surprise in the old man’s eyes. Apparently, he couldn’t disguise everything he was feeling. Or didn’t care to.
“Really. That easily?” He leaned back in his chair and the springs creaked. “You’ll forgive me, but I’m curious as to your quick acceptance.”
Sean smiled. “Changing your mind already?”
“Not at all.” Walter spread his hands wide. “I only thought it would take more to convince you.”
“Melinda’s a beautiful woman,” he said, remembering the flash of her blue eyes as she looked at him before leaving the room a few minutes ago.
“She is—but there’s more to her than her beauty,” her grandfather pointed out.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Sean agreed, though he already knew firsthand just what a clever mind Melinda had. “Once we’re married, we’ll have plenty of time to find out all about each other.”
“Hmm …”
“I assume you’ve already checked me out,” Sean said. Knowing Melinda had researched him assured Sean that her grandfather had done so as well.
“I have.”
Sean nodded. “You made the offer. I accepted. End of story.”
Walter was watching him as if waiting for Sean to change his mind. Sean fought another smile. The man had wheeled and dealed his granddaughter to a stranger and now that the stranger had agreed, the old man was having second thoughts? Too late for that. They had a deal and the Kings would soon be arriving to get the project underway.
Pushing up from his chair, Sean stretched out his right hand and said, “I’ll just go tell my bride the good news. Then I’ll phone my brothers and let them know we can get started on the hotel right away.”
Walter stood up too, took Sean’s hand and shook it. When he released him again, the older man said, “You can start construction the day after the wedding.”
Both of Sean’s eyebrows went up. “Don’t trust me to go through with it?”
“If I didn’t trust you,” Walter said softly, “you wouldn’t be marrying my granddaughter. Let’s just say I prefer to have all of my bases covered.”
“Fine,” Sean agreed with a nod. “I’ll have our lawyers fax you the paperwork this afternoon.”
“And my lawyer will have a contract for you to sign as well.”
Sean’s gaze locked with the older man’s and for just an instant, there was a silent conversation between them. Two men, each of them powerful, each of them walking into this bargain with their eyes wide open and each of them thinking about the woman at the center of it all.
Hope you know what you’re starting here.
You and my granddaughter will work out fine.
If that’s what the old guy believed, Sean thought grimly, then he was way off base. And for just an instant, he felt guilty about tricking Walter Stanford. Then he remembered it hadn’t been his idea and if Melinda was comfortable with this setup, then why should he mind?
Sean smiled. “I’ll go see Melinda and tell her it’s settled.”
“Fine, fine,” Walter told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Perhaps you could join me later for a private dinner where we can discuss your plans for the future? Shall we say seven? Here, in my suite?”
Sean eyed the older man. “Sure, I’ll see you later, then. Meanwhile, I’m guessing you’ll handle all the details of the wedding?”
Walter nodded. “By the end of the week, you’ll be a married man.”
End of the week.
That rang a gong with the tone of finality inside his head. But Sean ignored it. He’d made his decision, and he wouldn’t go back on it now.
“Melinda’s a strong woman with a good heart. See that you remember that.”
“I will.” Sean left the room then, in search of the ‘good-hearted’ bride who drove a bargain like no one else he had ever known.
The next morning was a disaster.
Sean stared at his computer screen, waiting for his phone call to go through. He caught his own reflection staring back at him and winced. Even in the hazy mirror of the screen, he looked like death. That would teach him to drink brandy with an old man who probably had the stuff flowing through his veins.
But Stanford had wanted to toast their bargain. Since this was supposed to be real, Sean hadn’t been able to think of a reason not to. Hours later, after listening to stories of island life and Melinda’s childhood, all washed down with glass after glass of expensive brandy, Sean had staggered to his room.
He’d lain awake, waiting for the room to stop spinning before finally falling asleep. Then he’d been chased in his dreams by a wildly laughing Stanford waving a giant brandy bottle at him while Melinda threw bouquet after bouquet at his head.
“Don’t even want that dream analyzed,” he murmured.
All he really wanted at the moment was to quiet the jackhammers behind his eyes. He coughed and his head almost exploded. Moaning softly, he was reaching for a bottle of aspirin when his brother Rafe’s face came up on the screen.
“Sean—” He paused and frowned. “Damn. You look like hell.”
Thanks to videophone conferencing, there was no disguising his hangover. For the first time in his life, Sean cursed technology. “Yeah, thanks Rafe. Nice to see you, too.”
His brother’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you hungover?”
“Brilliant observation,” Sean said tightly as he struggled with the cap on the aspirin bottle. Childproof, okay. But did they have to seal the damn thing as if it contained the nuclear codes for Armageddon?
“Hard to miss, what with the dark circles under your eyes and the way you’re cringing in the sunlight like a vampire away from his crypt.”
God, why hadn’t he waited to call until later? Or at least closed the drapes? Well, he knew why he hadn’t done that. It had just seemed too taxing at the time.
“What’s going on?” Rafe asked. “Did you get the deal?”
“The deal. About that …”
“Damn it, Sean,” Rafe shouted.
“Can you dial it down a notch or two?” Sean rubbed at the spot between his eyes even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He finally managed to get the aspirin bottle open and tapped two tablets onto his palm. Then he tapped out two more. Desperate times.
He washed them all down with a long gulp of water from the bottle on his desk and prayed they were miracle aspirins, about to kick in and restore him to health in the next thirty seconds.
No luck.
Rafe grumbled, took a breath and said, “Fine. I’m calm. Now tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s a long story,” Sean said, rubbing his eyes. “And I’d rather tell it only once. Is Lucas in the office?”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Rafe muttered, “but yeah. He’s here.” Reaching to one side of his desk, he hit a button and said, “Marie, get Lucas in here, will you? Thanks.”
“Marie? New assistant?” Sean asked.
“Yeah,” Rafe admitted. “Katie insisted I hire somebody to help me so I can get home in time for dinner every night.”
His brother might sound like he was complaining, but Sean knew how nuts about his wife Rafe really was. And who could blame him? Rafe could be a pain in the ass at times, but his wife was a peach. Not to mention, she made the best cookies in the known universe.
“How’s Katie?” Sean managed to ask.
“She’s great,” Rafe said and a soft smile curved his mouth. Amazing the changes Katie had made to the formerly surly Rafe King. “She says I should tell you she’s saving a batch of her pistachio chocolate mint cookies for you.”
Sean swallowed hard. Ordinarily, that would have been a nice surprise. At the moment though, it felt like live snakes were writhing in his belly. Still, it was the thought that counted. “Tell her thanks.”
Rafe frowned at Sean’s less than enthusiastic reply, then waved Lucas over when he came into the room. In a second or two, Lucas was sitting beside Rafe so that both of them could be seen.
“Damn,” Lucas said, pulling his head back in shock. “You look like hell.”
Sean sighed. “That’s the consensus. How’s the baby?”
“Danny’s great,” Lucas said, grinning. “I swear he said Daddy this morning.”
Sean laughed and was rewarded with another jolt of pain. Since his new nephew was barely three months old, that wasn’t likely. But Lucas was convinced his son was a genius. And who was Sean to argue?
“On topic, guys? Are you out there partying with some blonde when you should be doing business?” Rafe asked.
“Because the blondes can wait until we get the damn land,” Lucas put in.
“He doesn’t need to be dating any blondes when he’s there to work,” Rafe argued.
“I agree, but he’s not dead and he’s not married, Rafe. God, I thought Katie had lightened you up a little.”
“I don’t need lightening up.”
His brothers’ voices were getting louder and the pain in Sean’s head just kept growing. He tried to tune out the argument taking place back in Long Beach, California. But Kings were hard to ignore. Even for one of the family.
Rafe and Lucas could go on for hours and Sean knew it. Their argument would slide from Sean to their current project and might even drift to old grudges from when they were all kids.
He smiled in spite of his headache. All of his brothers were close. Their father, Ben King, had never married any of the women who bore his many sons, but every summer, he gathered his sons together at his ranch in California. For three months every year, the King boys were real brothers and they had forged a bond that had only gotten stronger over the years.
Sean’s smile faded a bit as he thought about his parents. Ben had done the best he could, he knew. But Sean’s mother had been too fragile to deal with life. Too … breakable to leave the man she had eventually married, even when the abuse began and—
“Sean!”
He came up out of the misery of his memories with a grateful start. Looking at his brothers’ identical expressions, he cleared his throat and said, “There is no blonde.”
“Well that’s something anyway,” Rafe muttered.
“She’s got black hair,” Sean said. But that didn’t describe Melinda’s hair either. More like the color of deepest night, when a man’s dreams and fantasies came to life. When a woman with eyes like hers and a touch that was all heat could turn even the strongest man into Jell-O.
