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“Well, it’s my grandmother, see. She’d be horrified if she thought the marriage wasn’t real. From her standpoint it would violate the spirit of the trust. I think my grandfather meant for me to be happily married.”
Good grief. Rainey dropped her chin and looked at him the way she might look at a teenager who’d just tried teenage logic on her. “Call me crazy, Beck, but wouldn’t you be violating the spirit of the trust anyway? I mean, we’re not exactly smitten here, you know.”
The question caught him off guard and he hesitated. Alarm surged through Rainey like an electric jolt. Oh, no.
Surely he wasn’t attracted to her in a serious way. How could he be? They had just met yesterday.
A playful smile played across his luscious lips. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What are you really saying? That we have to pretend to be smitten, for your grandmother’s sake?”
“Yup, for hers and everybody else’s. This is a small town, Rainey. People talk.”
“That’s ludicrous. How are we supposed to keep that up?”
He helped himself to another full-length appraisal of her. “I don’t know about you, but I won’t have any trouble playing my part.” He glanced at her breasts. Licked his lips. Grinned like a monkey.
“Look, Beck,” she warned him with narrowed eyes, “you mustn’t get any ideas about me. I’m here to run an inn, nothing more. Understand?”
“Perfectly,” he agreed with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman.
Ooh, he was maddening! How on earth was a woman supposed to know when this guy was being real?
“Besides,” Rainey added, regretting it almost immediately, “I’m…I’ve just been through…I’m a little vulnerable right now. You have to respect that.” Darn, now why did she go and say that? It was way more than he needed to know.
Beck’s eyes widened, but he had the sense not to press for an explanation. “Okay, I will,” he agreed solemnly.
What a bunch of bunk. The man was as phony as a three-dollar bill, and Rainey didn’t trust him as far as she could spit. Oops, what had become of the tea? She went to the stove and turned the burner on again. Beck rose and came up close behind her. Before she could turn around, he placed his hands flat on the countertop on either side of her and closed her in.
“What would be so bad about being married to me?” he murmured into her hair. “You might actually like it.”
His taut body was just inches away from hers, and Rainey felt the heat coming off it. He smelled like sandalwood again. What was it? Soap? Aftershave lotion? Intermingled with his own natural scent, it was heady stuff. A lonely woman could easily fall prey to Beck, she realized. It would be sooo easy.
But it wasn’t going to happen to her. No way. Loneliness had caused her to make one stupid choice. She couldn’t let it happen again. Especially here, where she had no escape route. What would she do—move to Vancouver? Sheesh, at this rate, she could end up in Japan.
Lips pursed, she peeled his right hand smartly off the counter and turned around. Bad move. He just replaced it and closed her in again, face-to-face this time. Before she could react, he leaned down and brought those tantalizing lips very close to hers.
Flustered and trembling, Rainey assumed he was going to kiss her again. He didn’t. Instead, he merely brushed his cheek against hers. His whiskers were bristly, his skin warm. His breath was hot on her face. In sheer defiance of her will to resist him, a wave of desire washed over Rainey and her lips parted in anticipation.
“It could be so good, Rainey,” he whispered as she fought a powerful urge to put her arms around him. He was so close, so gorgeous, so sexy. One little kiss. What was the harm, really? After all, they’d kissed once before and the world hadn’t ended.
Just as her fingertips made contact with his muscular sides, he abruptly pulled back. “Take a few days to think it over. Then get back to me.”
A slow burn crept up Rainey’s face and she flinched. How dare he treat her that way? Oh, what a fool she was! To think that…
Then, without so much as a backward glance, he strutted out of the apartment, whistling—so sure of himself that she wanted to scream.
Seconds later the kettle whistled, too. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she snapped.
5
FOR THE NEXT three days, Rainey briskly went about the business of becoming general manager of the Honeymoon Haven.
On the morning of the first day she introduced herself to every member of the staff, in each case offering reassurances that despite whatever they had heard, all was well at the Haven. To her surprise, most of them were more interested to know how she felt about working with Beck than about the security of their jobs. Smiling tightly, she insisted she was thrilled, simply thrilled, to have Beck Mahoney as a partner. There was a lot of whispering behind her back, a little snickering and some blatant laughter.
“Humph! So it’s going to be the two of you now, is it?” Mrs. Norman shouted at her. The women were close enough to touch, and Rainey almost fell backward. Before she could regain her footing and muster a reply, the head housekeeper said “Humph!” again and marched away.
Hollis was more succinct. “So, it’s you and B-b-beck,” he commented, adding a stutter to his already impressive collection of quirks.
Passing her in the corridor at noon, Beck leaned down and whispered, “Have you thought it over?”
“No!” Rainey snapped. She was still hurt and humiliated and, darn it, she was staying that way as long as possible!
After the lunch crowd cleared out, she had the plants removed from the dining room and spent a breathless afternoon helping the kitchen staff to rearrange the heavy tables. Then she called each of the inn’s suppliers and formally introduced herself.
Before heading home, a sweaty, fatigued Beck poked his head into her office. All day he had been struggling alongside Hollis to temporarily repair one of the inn’s two ancient furnaces. The weather had turned cool, and the guests had been forced to don sweaters. Moaning and grumbling, they repeatedly conveyed their displeasure to Rainey.
“Have you thought it over yet?” he asked yet again.
“No, I haven’t. Get lost!”
“Certainly.” He bowed deeply as he backed out of the doorway. Oooh, he was such a pain! She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a laugh.
On day two she cleared the clutter from Lilly’s office and went through dozens of bulging files, sorting the wheat from the chaff. There were documents dating back ten years or more, some on crumbling, yellowed paper. One file held the sticky remnants of a half-eaten butter tart.
In the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, at the very back, she found a folder labeled “Rainey.” What the devil? Brows furrowed, she opened it and pulled out a single sheet of mauve, floral stationery—a letter addressed to her from Lilly.
My dearest darling niece,
I expect that by now you have recovered from the shock of my recent decision and are getting on with things. I apologize for leaving the inn in such a poor state. I confess that lately I have left the running of the place mostly to Freda and Hollis. I am confident they will be a big help to you and Beck as you work to make the Haven everything it can be. He is a fine young man, and was very sweet to me. Best wishes for a long and happy partnership.
Sincerely,
Aunt Lilly
P.S. Don’t forget about my party.
Stunned by its brevity and businesslike tone, Rainey sat back on her haunches on the worn carpet and read the letter again. That was it? No explanation of why Lilly had reneged on her promise? Just a reminder about the party? Well, at least Rainey understood now why Mrs. Norman wasn’t exactly thrilled with the new arrangement. She was used to being in charge.
Lilly was right about one thing. Whatever it took, she and Beck were going to drag the Haven kicking and screaming into the new millennium. With sound management and a little spit and polish, the inn was going to be a model of gracious hospitality and corporate efficiency. Rainey suddenly envisioned herself on the cover of one of those glossy hotel trade magazines, smiling under the banner: Honeymoon Haven Voted World’s Best Hotel. It was going to happen. Yes, sir!
From time to time, Beck came by to check up on her. Each time he asked if she’d thought it over, and each time she said no. Good grief. Why was he in such a hurry? After all, it wasn’t going to be a real marriage. Uh, that was, if it happened at all.
Marriage. Hmm. Her brain was still cycling crazily through the list of potential problems. For one thing, wouldn’t marrying Beck mean spending altogether too much time with him? Living with him, working with him. Even the best of real marriages would buckle under that kind of strain.
At the end of day three, weary from placating chilly guests and a little cold herself, Rainey poured a hot bath in Lilly’s claw-footed tub and sank into it with a sigh of relief. For the first time since his call, Trevor popped into her head.
Why had he called? Surely he didn’t have any illusions about getting back together? How could they, anyway? He was an urban yuppie who detested small-town life. One week in Bragg Creek and he’d be whining, “What? No avante garde theater?” And Rainey was never going back to big-city life.
Never. As she luxuriated in the hot, soapy water, the sheer finality of that word hit her like a slap in the face. She was here and she was staying. Forever. Whatever it took to keep her in this beautiful place, she would do it.
Ah, even if it meant marrying the town hustler? Yes, she realized, even if it meant that.
Sighing, she looked around the bathroom, at the chipped paint on the wood wainscoting and the cracked, rippling mirror above the pedestal sink. Lilly’s personal items were still in the medicine cabinet. Thank heavens Rainey didn’t have to redecorate. There was, of course, still the matter of where she was going to live.
Hmm. A light flashed on in her head and she abruptly sat up, splashing water over the side of the tub. What would Trevor think if she married Beck? Hah! Wouldn’t it just serve him right? Wouldn’t it just frost him? She could just see the look on his bland face. Total shock. Oh, how she would love to see it! Of course, if she did marry Beck, she would have to settle for Trevor’s reaction over the telephone. But even that would be worth it.
Oh, yes, she realized with maniacal glee, it would be well worth it.
Laughing like a lunatic, suspecting that she had lost her marbles but somehow no longer caring, and knowing full well that it was going to be a disaster, she scrambled out of the tub and called Beck at home. When he answered, sounding tired, she exclaimed, “Okay, buster, I’ve thought it over. Let’s do it!”
“YES, LADIES and gentlemen,” Beck intoned in his best impersonation of an infomercial pitch man, “it’s the first, the only, free-trial offer of its kind. Try a wife! Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. If you’re not happy with the product, just return it after six months—a year at the most—and get a full refund.”
Chuckling aloud, he dipped Lilly’s ancient hand razor in the sink and took another careful swipe at his five o’clock shadow. He wanted to look his best tonight. He was about to make the biggest, and definitely the strangest, announcement of his life: I’m getting married, Grandma, to a woman I met five days ago. She doesn’t love me, Grandma. Hell, she doesn’t even like me much, but who cares? She’s a babe!
His eyes, glassy and a little crazed looking, stared back at him from the mirror above Rainey’s bathroom sink. “You’ve gone mad,” he said to them.
“Beck, what on earth are you doing in there?” Rainey asked from outside the door. She sounded tense, rattled.
“Nothing,” he answered in the high-pitched voice of a kid just about to shave his head and put a ring in his nose.
Moments later he heard an anxious sigh followed by the click-click of her heels retreating down the hall. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself.
Wasn’t it just the deal of a lifetime? A suiteheart of a deal, he thought, choking back a laugh. How many guys could just try a wife on for size? Marry with the option, right up front, to just walk away if things didn’t work out? None, that’s how many. Nate Frome would be green with envy. He already had two messy divorces behind him.
Ah, wait a minute. He couldn’t tell Nate the truth—not right away. If their little scheme was to work, everybody had to believe that he and Rainey were crazy in love. No exceptions. Dammit, he would love, just love, to see the look on old Nate’s mug.
Distracted, he nicked himself. Terrific. Now he was going to be stuck with a nerdy square of tissue on his chin.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a real marriage—not in the biblical sense, anyway. Rainey had made that pretty clear the other day. Separate bedrooms. Yeah, well, he’d just have to see about that.
And that stuff about being vulnerable. What was that about? Obviously, Trevor, whoever he was, had broken her heart. Beck wanted to kill the guy. Mostly for hurting Rainey, but also partly for giving Beck one more damned hurdle to jump. Loving Rainey was starting to feel like a four-hundred-yard relay.
He dabbed at the cut with a tissue. Hey, wait a minute. Loving Rainey. Now where had that thought come from? Stay cool, he silently warned his reflection. Stay cool, old boy.
He heard her banging around in the living room. Nervous and jumpy, she had changed her clothes about nine times in the past hour. Beck could just imagine what she was wearing now. One of those prim, high-necked blouses she seemed to have an endless supply of. A straight, knee-length skirt. Probably panty hose, too. You’d think she was still working at the Royal York Hotel, or something. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that no woman in Bragg Creek wore panty hose if she could possibly avoid it.
Cool. Yeah, well, that was going to be tough. ’Cause no matter what kind of getup she wore, Rainey Miller was just about the most delicious piece of womanhood he had ever seen. Those eyes. Those curves. Those legs.
After that stupid move he’d made in her kitchen the other day, Beck had gone home and cursed himself three ways to Sunday. She had just issued a plea for mercy, and what had he done? Drooled all over her, that’s what. Like it or not, he would just have to summon a little restraint. Keep his greedy mitts off her—except, of course, when it served their crazy purpose.
Yes, sir. The bedroom thing, the wardrobe thing, the anal-retention thing—all would be addressed in good time.
His thoughts drifted to Francine. Should he tell Rainey about her? Last spring they had gone out exactly three times—twice to dinner and once to a movie. Six whole months had passed and she was still bitter about their “breakup.” What Beck didn’t understand was, how could they have broken up when they never got together in the first place? They had nothing in common and couldn’t dredge up enough conversation to get through a meal. Why, they hadn’t even…
Anyway, maybe he should just leave it alone for now. Francine was smart and sensible. She’d come around eventually.
Another thing he wasn’t about to tell Rainey: that despite his reputation he hadn’t gotten down to business with any woman for nearly two years. He was hungry for a woman’s touch, her taste, her scent. But not just any woman…
Lord knew it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. It was just that…hell, there just wasn’t anybody he wanted to be with. Meaningless, short-term stuff. Man, he was tired of that routine. The mindless chitchat over dinner. The slow buildup to the big question: So, when do you get your inheritance, Beck? And by the way, exactly how much money is it? Not that I’m interested, or anything.
And then, worst of all, the hurried, halfhearted sex that left him wanting more. What more he wasn’t exactly sure—but there had to be something more.
The last of his whiskers shed, Beck washed his still-bloody face, rinsed the razor and put it away. Whistling, he raked a comb through his hair and donned a pair of clean khakis and a turtleneck sweater. Satisfied that he was at least passably presentable, even with the goofy tissue paper, he stepped into the hall.
And came face-to-face with an angel.
Grimacing and wringing her hands, Rainey stood before him in a long green linen dress. Sleeveless and collarless, it fell in a straight line from her slender shoulders to the tops of her thin-strapped black sandals. From there it was slit up both sides to her bare knees. A black enamel pin and a slender black bracelet completed the ensemble.
“Wow!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, Beck.” Her expression was tortured. “Do you think it’s okay? I mean, it’s really a summer dress…”
“I think it’s more than okay,” he confirmed with an appreciative nod. “I think it’s spectacular.”
“Oh, Beck.” She managed a small smile. Her hair shone and her lips glistened with a pale-pink glossiness. Despite her anxiety, she had a girlish glow on. It was just about the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Before he could stop them, his eyes took a good long look at the swelling of those more-than-generous breasts beneath the pale green sheath, and the graceful curves leading down to those luscious hips. He had no trouble picturing her without the dress. No trouble at all.
Restraint, he silently reminded himself. Restraint, Beck.
“You look wonderful, too,” she said sweetly.
Beck eyed her suspiciously. In the past three days she had swung all the way from snarling at him to almost treating him like a human being. What was going on?
The doorbell sounded and he winked at her. “It’s show time!” Rainey took a sharp breath and expelled it slowly.
“Beck, darling,” his tiny, feisty grandmother chirped as he let her into the apartment, “you’re as handsome as ever!” As usual, she was overdressed and over-coifed, her mauve suit, pink shoes and blue-tinted hair a medley of clashing pastels.
“Thanks, Grandma,” he said as she brushed past him and made a beeline straight for Rainey. Smiling as sweetly as only a crafty old lady can smile, she held out her jeweled hands and clasped the sides of Rainey’s bare arms. “Why, aren’t you just the prettiest thing!”
Rainey beamed—and relaxed. “Thank you.”
“I’m delighted to meet you at last. Your aunt Lilly always said such nice things about you. I can see now that she wasn’t exaggerating.” With that, her watery eyes clouded over with sadness. “Oh, I miss her so much,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A stroke. And she was only eighty-four. It’s tragic.”
Beck rolled his eyes. He loved his grandmother, but her penchant for melodrama bordered on being insufferable.
Rainey, immediately smitten, murmured, “I miss her, too, Mrs. Mahoney.”
Old Flo pursed her lips. “Oh, please. Call me Flo. We don’t need formalities here.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Rainey cried. “It wouldn’t be right.”
Flo’s frown quickly gave way to a sugary smile. “Well now, isn’t that just the mark of a well-raised young lady. I’ll tell you what. Call me Grandma then.” She flashed Beck a disgusted look. “These Mahoney boys, they just don’t seem to be able to produce girls. It will be a pleasure to have you as my granddaughter.”
Beck nearly gagged. “Tea, ladies?”
“Only if there’s a little gin to go with it,” his grandmother replied as she and Rainey moved into the living room.
