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Sterling paced restlessly along the courthouse hallway. Although the air was cool thanks to the air-conditioning, he’d managed to work up a sweat. As a result, he’d loosened his tie and tossed his navy suit coat over a corridor chair a while ago. Now, stripped down to his shirtsleeves and vest, he glanced at his wristwatch for what felt like the umpteenth time, then stalked over to glare out the bank of windows that overlooked the building’s main entrance.
It was 1:10 and there wasn’t a redhead in sight.
“Mr. Churchill?”
He swiveled around, recognizing the voice of Judge Lester’s clerk. “Yes?”
The young man hesitated. “I don’t mean to worry you, but I thought I’d better mention that His Honor is due back in court at two. If your fiancée is delayed much longer, I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.”
“No problem. She should be here any minute.”
Apparently he sounded more confident than he felt, because the clerk readily nodded. “Good. But as soon as she arrives, if you could come straight inside, we’ll get started.”
“Fine.” The instant the younger man disappeared back through the door into the judge’s chambers, Sterling whipped around to once more scan the sidewalk down below.
Nothing. He swore under his breath. Susan Wilkins wasn’t coming and it was his own damn fault. He never should have agreed to let her get to the courthouse on her own. For that matter, he never should have let her out of his sight. His instinct—the one that had lifted him out of a childhood of near-poverty and made him a millionaire before he turned thirty—had urged him to close this deal while he could. He should have listened to it, should have heeded the inner voice of experience that had warned him that speed was of the essence.
Because, while there was no way for Ms. Wilkins to know that he would never take a child away from its mother, by now she might have figured out that a court was far more likely to order him to pay support than grant him custody.
Then again, why would she settle for half the pie when she could have it all? She’d made it clear yesterday that she knew he had money. And, though he knew his attorney was going to have a coronary when he found out, Sterling had deliberately chosen not to ask for a prenup so that by marrying him, she’d have a direct claim on his wealth—a fact he’d counted on to work in his favor.
He grimaced. It appeared he’d thought wrong. It appeared that if he had the brains God gave a Hereford, he would have called the judge from her dingy little living room yesterday and taken care of everything then and there.
Of course, he had been practically out on his feet. And there was no guarantee that the judge would’ve been available. Or that he could have arranged things on such short notice. Hell, he’d had to pull strings to make this happen today.
Besides, Susan had given him her word she’d be here—
Aw, come on, Churchill, get real. Teresa promised to love, honor and cherish you for the rest of your life and you know how that turned out. When are you going to learn?
His face tightened at the reminder of his ex-wife. Bracing his hands against the windowsill, he hunched his shoulders and stared blindly out into the bright September sun, remembering the day she’d packed up and left him. He’d spent most of their marriage trying to make up to her for the child they couldn’t have. But it hadn’t been until that winter afternoon four years ago that he’d finally accepted that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be enough to fill the void in her life. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, and he’d vowed, as he stood there and watched her drive away, that he would never again open himself up to such heartbreak.
So it wasn’t as if he wanted to get married. If it weren’t for the child, there wasn’t a tinker’s chance in hell he’d even consider it. But there was a child on the way. And not only did he want it with every fiber of his being, but he was damned if he was going to let it grow up the way he had, with no father and a mother who was too busy putting food on the table to bother with anything else.
A flurry of motion caught his attention. Glancing to his left, Sterling watched a woman hurriedly cross the street at the far corner and head in his direction. For a second his heart sped up as he saw that she had red hair, but it only took him an instant to realize it wasn’t his intended.
For one thing, instead of a dowdy auburn bun, this woman had a rich sorrel mane streaked with fiery strands of copper and chestnut that tumbled in sexy disarray past her slender shoulders.
For another, she was a real head-turner as she dashed along in a stylish lavender dress that skimmed her delicately curved body and strappy high heels that made her long, slim legs appear to go on forever.
He felt an unwanted tightening in his groin. In the next instant, he told himself firmly he was glad the woman wasn’t Susan, who, if yesterday was any indication, seemed to favor clothes that would make her a contender in a Frump of the Month competition.
Not that she was repulsive or anything. She had nice enough features. And good teeth. And what he’d been able to see of her body—arms, neck, ankles and feet—had been okay. Yet she was also totally forgettable, the sort of plain, unassuming female who would fade quietly into any background.
And Sterling was grateful. Hell, he was more than grateful, he was relieved. Having to get married was bad enough. While he meant every word he’d said when he told Susan he’d take good care of her, the last thing he wanted was to have feelings for her. When it came to women, he was done with any sort of tender emotions.
“Mr. Churchill?”
It was the clerk again. With an inner sigh, he turned. “What?”
“I really am afraid that we’re running out of time. We need to either get started or—”
Down the hall, the bell on the elevator pinged and the door slid open. Sterling glanced over, his attention momentarily arrested as the woman from the street stepped out. Clutching a small silver bag in delicate fingers, she took a hurried look around, her hair swinging around her like a fiery cloak.
Damned if something about her didn’t seem faintly familiar, he thought uneasily. He shifted his gaze back to the court clerk, determined to focus on what the man was saying—
“Sterling?”
That voice. It couldn’t be... He turned, his whole body going tight with disbelief.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the vision in lavender said breathlessly, hurrying toward him. “Usually I’m right on time, but things took longer than they said at the salon, and then I couldn’t get a cab, and I walked as fast as I could, but I’m not used to wearing heels...” Coming to a halt before him, she bit her full lower lip, looking uncertain as their gazes met.
He stared at her in shock. “Susan?” Thanks to a subtle application of makeup, the same features that yesterday had seemed faded and nondescript, today were anything but Her dark brown eyes seemed huge, while the mouth that she was nervously nibbling the lipstick off appeared achingly erotic.
Judge Lester’s clerk clapped his hands together, his expression relieved. “You must be Miss Wilkins.” He gave Susan an approving once-over as she stood there looking both sexy and classy, a jacket that matched her dress draped stylishly over one slim, milky arm. “I’m so glad you made it. As I was just telling Mr. Churchill, we need to get started. If you’d both follow me, please?” He marched importantly toward the door.
Susan glanced uncertainly after him, then turned back to Sterling. “I truly am sorry I’m late. I hope you’re not angry.”
“Me? Angry? Hell, no.” He reached over, snagged his coat off the chair and yanked it on. “I just figured you weren’t coming.”
“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “But I promised.”
For some reason, the discovery that her word meant something to her was almost as unsettling as her incredible—and totally unwelcome—transformation. “Forget it. At least you’re here now. Shall we go in?”
“Oh, but—that is, if you could give me just one second—” Her movements hurried, she handed him her ridiculously little purse, then quickly slipped on her jacket, flipped her hair free of the collar and smoothed it back with her fingers.
A faint whiff of perfume enveloped him at her movement. The scent was as soft and evocative as she looked. To his horror, it was all he could do not to lean forward, press his lips to some silky patch of her and see if she tasted as good as she looked. Wondering what the hell was wrong with him, he impatiently yanked the knot on his tie into place—and nearly strangled himself.
“There.” Oblivious to his rapidly deteriorating mood, she carefully retrieved her purse from his rigid hands, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
It’s about time. He took a step, then stopped. Reaching over he snatched his hat and the small gardenia bouquet he’d brought off the chair, thrusting the latter at her. “Here. These are for you.”
She looked at him in surprise, then slowly took the flowers and lifted them to her face. “Oh, Sterling, they’re lovely,” she breathed, her face lighting up in a way that was anything but plain. “Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal,” he said stiffly, motioning her to precede him down the hall. She gazed up at him, her lips parting as if she were going to say something, and then she seemed to lose her nerve. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and started toward the judge’s chambers.
Stubbornly resisting an unacceptable urge to check out the sway of her slender hips, Sterling took a fortifying breath and followed, his face grim.
Just for a second, he couldn’t remember why this had seemed like such a good idea ten minutes ago.
“...and so, by the power vested in me by the great state of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
His official duties fulfilled, Judge Lester rocked back on his heels, clapped Sterling on the back with one beefy hand and said jovially, “You know what that means, doncha, boy? That means you can finally pucker up and kiss your pretty little bride.” The jovial judge winked conspiratorially at Susan, then shifted his gaze to her husband. “Go on, now. This is no time to be shy.” Eyes twinkling, he waited expectantly.
Gathering her courage, Susan snuck an apprehensive glance at Sterling. Just as she feared, his good-looking face held a complete lack of enthusiasm for the judge’s suggestion.
Her spirits sank. For all his insistence that she marry him, he’d spent the past twenty minutes acting like the reluctant groom at a shotgun wedding. Curt and unsmiling, he’d suffered through introductions to the court reporter who was acting as a witness along with the clerk, and had only reluctantly made small talk with the judge. And though he’d said his vows in a clear voice without hesitation, he’d done it with all the warmth of a man reciting an arrest warrant.
It hadn’t exactly been the wedding of her dreams, either, Susan acknowledged wistfully. But then, it wasn’t supposed to be, she reminded herself, absently twisting the gleaming gold band on her ring finger. She was doing this for the baby. Hadn’t she been awake all night, considering her options? And hadn’t she decided that she wanted more for her child than a life on the run or a childhood shaped by a series of court battles?
Yes, absolutely. What’s more, there were genuine benefits to marrying Sterling. As he’d pointed out, two parents were better than one. Not only would her child have two people to love it, but it would also have someone else to depend on should anything happen to her.
She also realized that Sterling’s wealth was a plus. While she didn’t care about the money for herself, she realized he could provide numerous advantages for their child that she couldn’t—as much as it humbled her to admit it. And she couldn’t deny that she was thrilled at the prospect of actually getting to stay home and be a full-time mother.
So she supposed it also shouldn’t matter how Sterling felt about her.
But it did.
While she knew it was probably rather foolish of her, deep down she’d cherished the hope that he would be pleased she’d made an effort to look nice for him.
Of course, she hadn’t intended to do anything quite this drastic, she acknowledged, self-consciously pressing her lipsticked lips together. When she’d hesitantly walked into Cachet first thing this morning, she’d simply hoped to find something on sale that didn’t look too bad on her. She’d certainly never intended to confide to the elegant saleslady that she was getting married later that day. Or confess that her intended was everything she was not—attractive, important, self-confident—and that she wished, for his sake, that she was just a little bit pretty. And she’d most definitely never expected the saleslady to take her statement as a personal challenge.
But the woman had. Before Susan had known it, the saleslady had whisked her into a dressing room, ordered her to strip down to her undies, then studied her with a critical eye. Murmuring to herself about delicate lines, fabulous coloring and absolutely no fashion sense, she’d disappeared, then returned with an armful of beautiful clothing. In no time at all, Susan had found herself the owner of the lilac sheath she’d admired only the day before, a matching coat, some slacks, two pair of shorts, a trio of incredibly expensive little T-shirts—and some racy new lingerie that she hadn’t had the nerve to admit she probably wouldn’t be needing.
She’d also found herself escorted next door to the beauty salon. Refusing to take no for an answer, the saleslady—whom by then Susan had been calling Jeannette—had consulted with the stylist, explained what she wanted done and voilà! Two hours later, Susan had emerged several hundred dollars poorer, looking quite unlike her previous self.
She had to admit that she’d been quietly thrilled with her new look as she’d hurried along Royal’s streets toward the courthouse. At least now Sterling won’t have to be ashamed of me, she’d told herself as she recalled the pointedly reserved way he’d looked at her the previous day.
Not that she’d done it for him. She hadn’t. She’d done it for herself, because she was starting a whole new chapter in her life and she wanted to put her best foot forward.
And it was good that she felt the way she did, she thought ruefully, since Sterling hadn’t even seemed to notice her changed appearance.
“Susan?”
“Yes?” She glanced up, then froze as Sterling reached out, cupped her shoulders in his hands and lowered his head. Even though his intention was obvious, she was still unprepared for the foreign feel of his lips as they brushed against her cheek. Startled, she gave a little jerk of surprise and tipped her head.
Just like that they were mouth-to-mouth.
Susan drew in her breath. The last person to kiss her had been a fellow student her first year of college. He’d been no more than a boy, and it was a toss-up which of them had been more nervous and inexperienced.
But there was nothing boyish or inexperienced about her new husband. On the contrary, his lips were warm and firm, his hands were strong and steady, and his scent—the same clean, masculine one that had made her tremble on her front porch yesterday—was heavenly. The second she relaxed, she found that being kissed...by him...like this...was really quite lovely.
With an instinct she didn’t question, she raised her arms and slid her hands around Sterling’s neck. Her fingertips slid over the fine fabric of his suit coat, encountered the smooth cotton of his crisp white collar, then finally found the soft thickness of his hair. She hesitantly stroked it, startled as the kiss became fractionally more urgent. Intrigued, she caressed him again, feeling a shameless little thrill when he pulled her closer.
Oh, my. Who would have thought that just kissing could cause this explosion of warmth to spread through her? Or that somebody who -acted as forbidding as Sterling would turn out to be such a terrific kisser?
Not her, she thought foggily. Based on their meeting yesterday, she would have sworn he was all brusque unsentimentality. Yet that didn’t explain the money he’d given her to buy a dress, or the bouquet of flowers he’d brought her, or that he’d remembered a wedding ring. Much less how he’d wound up being such a champion kisser—
Without warning, he pulled away. Caught off guard, her eyes flew open. She stared up at him, her instinctive cry of protest silenced by the chilly glitter in his gray eyes.
Susan had seen pictures of icebergs that looked warmer. Except of course for that odd flush high on his cheekbones...
“Woowee!” the judge exclaimed happily. “I surely do love a wedding! Don’t you, Jimmy Lee?” he asked his clerk.
“Yes, I do, Judge,” the young man agreed. “However—” he glanced pointedly at his watch “—I’m afraid that we’re running shy on time. The noon recess will be over in a few minutes.”
The judge sighed good-naturedly. “Then I suppose it’s time I get back to work,” he agreed. “Although I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. That dadburn fool Rooster Roberts is back on the docket, causing trouble again...” Shaking his head, he reached out, shook Sterling’s hand, then winked at Susan. “You make sure this ole boy takes good care of you, okay, darlin’? And if he doesn’t, you just haul him back in here and I’ll slap his butt in jail, I promise.”
Clasping her hands to keep from pressing her fingers to her tingling lips, Susan managed a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
The clerk waited as they signed the marriage certificate, handed it to Sterling, then efficiently hustled the two of them toward the door.
The next thing Susan knew, she and Sterling were alone in the hall. There was an awkward silence. For a moment she felt an attack of shyness coming on, but she forced it away. After all, she reminded herself, this was the start of a whole new life. If nothing else, she had to try. She forced herself to look squarely up at Sterling’s handsome face. “Well,” she said lightly. “That didn’t take long.”
“Nope.” He abruptly settled his hat on his head and nodded at the elevator. “Come on. I’m parked out front.”
Okay, so he wasn’t big on small talk. That was okay. She obviously wasn’t, either. Things would get better as they got to know each other.
Still, she couldn’t help but notice the care he took not to touch her as they stepped into the enclosed space of the elevator. And even though she knew she wasn’t being fair, as the doors slid shut and the car began to drop, she couldn’t deny she felt an undeniable twinge of disappointment.
Arms crossed, Sterling stood looking out Susan’s screen door, his back to her small living room.
Outside, the day had turned still and hot, the sort of hazy, lazy afternoon that felt like summer except for an indefinable hint of fall in the air.
Inside, he could hear Susan moving around in the other room, putting the finishing touches on her packing. In no time at all, she was going to be done. And then she was going to walk in here and expect to go home with him.
And why not? He’d given her that right when he’d said “I do.” In return, he now had exactly what he wanted—a chance to be a full-time father, to make sure that when the time came his kid would have the complete benefit of his protection.
It was a fair exchange. So why didn’t he feel better?
Well, hell, that was easy. It was her. Susan. In the course of twenty-four hours, she’d gone from being so unassuming she was practically invisible, to being the sort of woman who could get under your skin if you let her.
Not that he was going to let her. Sure, the kiss they’d shared earlier in the judge’s chambers may have gotten a little out of hand. But then, she’d caught him totally off guard. The last thing he’d expected was for her to respond to an obligatory buss on the cheek by twining herself around him like some fragrant clinging vine. Much less that she’d practically melt with pleasure from something as basic as an everyday, elementary, closedmouth kiss.
But she had. And he’d been so nonplussed that for a few seconds there he’d had an inexplicable urge to clear off the judge’s desk, lay her down on top of it and see what happened next
Dammit.
Sterling shoved a hand through his hair, frustrated and a little embarrassed at the memory of his heated response. Okay. So maybe she had gotten to him just a little. It didn’t mean a darned thing. He’d simply been knocked temporarily off balance by the startling change in her appearance and things had gone downhill from there.
But that was over. Done. In the past. He now had himself well in hand and he wasn’t about to let a brief lapse in judgment ruin a perfectly good marriage of convenience. All he wanted out of this union was the right to his child. He did not want to be attracted to that child’s mother. And the sooner the new Mrs. Churchill understood that, the better off they’d both be.
“Sterling?”
He turned. Susan stood just inside the interior doorway, awkwardly clutching a large Cachet box under one arm, while she held an old, mismatched suitcase in each hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly mussed, her skin glowing from her recent exertion. It was a damn good thing he wasn’t letting her get to him, he thought sourly. Because if he was he’d be forced to admit she looked good. Real good.
He indicated the bags. “That it?”
“Yes. Except for my books. And some household items, towels, linens, knickknacks, that sort of thing.”
“Like I told you,” he said as he closed the distance between them, took the suitcases from her and set them by the door. “I’ll send one of my men over with a pickup tomorrow to get the rest of your stuff. Once you’ve seen my place, you’ll have a better idea what you want to keep.”
She nodded. “Yes. I know. Thank you.”
There was a brief pause as Sterling gathered his thoughts. “There’s something we need to discuss,” he began.
“Oh! I almost forgot—” Susan said simultaneously.
They both fell silent. Sterling managed a terse smile. “Ladies first.”
