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“We were as different as two people could be,” she continued.
“You can say that again.” Greg addressed Donald as he filled in the rest. “Our teacher, Mrs. Murdock, had agreed to let us pair up for our class assignment. She must have thought Christina’s good behavior would rub off on me and keep me out of detention hall.”
What would their teacher have thought if she’d seen how Greg’s sense of adventure had rubbed off on her?
“You still haven’t told me about your son.”
Donald looked disappointed, as he had every right to be. Surely he must think she had lied when she told him she was a virgin and wanted to remain so until a wedding ring—a real wedding ring—graced her finger.
“We had a pact,” he reminded her solemnly.
“It’s not what you think.” She would explain the details of their nonconsummated marriage later, but for now it was more important to set the record straight on the bigger issue. She hiccuped again. “Our so-called son was a rag doll and we were graded on how well we took care of it.”
“Okay, that issue is settled,” Greg said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. He tapped the papers impatiently against the palm of his hand. “Now let’s get back to the divorce.”
“Of course,” said Christina. “I’ll get you a pen.” Even though she had consciously known it would someday come to this, the finality of a divorce hadn’t hit until now. She handed him the pen, trying not to notice the hard calluses on his fingers or imagine what it might have felt like if he’d been given the opportunity to trace those calluses over the rest of her body so long ago.
“I’m not signing.”
“What?”
“I said I’m not signing.”
“I heard what you said. And I believe you also heard me say that Donald and I are getting married in two months.” She tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the panic out of her voice. “You have to sign those papers.”
“That would present a problem,” Greg said, shaking his head. “You see, I need you to perform a few wifely duties first.”
Stunned, Christina at first met his comment with openmouthed silence. She had seen that determined expression before, and it was obvious he was dead serious about his demand. A sudden urge to flee came over her. She could only assume this was fate’s payback for her having indulged in the fantasy of completing their wedding union each night as she drifted off to sleep. Christina backed away from the man who was threatening to wreck her life, stopping only when she collided with Donald.
Her fiancé put his arm protectively around her.
As she recovered from the shock of Greg’s demand, her emotions surged into anger. How dare he insult her with such a suggestion...and in front of her fiancé and his own girlfriend, no less!
“Oh, don’t worry,” Greg assured her as casually as if he were suggesting a walk through the park. “It’s not like you have to put your heart in it. All I need is for you to go through the motions.”
CHAPTER TWO
IN AN uncharacteristic response, Donald closed the space between them and grabbed a fistful of Greg’s white shirt and tie. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.” He enunciated the words carefully, as if he were Clint Eastwood in a Dirty Harry movie.
“You’re upsetting my fiancée.”
When Greg simply stood there and glowered down at him, Donald grabbed him by the arm and attempted to haul him to the door.
Christina couldn’t believe her eyes. “Donald, what are you doing?”
To her surprise, Greg disengaged himself from Donald’s grasp. Quickly. In a flash, he had the smaller man pinned against the wall.
“Greg, stop it now! You’re hurting him.”
“Oh, you lucky girl!” Trina squealed from behind her. “You have two handsome men fighting over you!”
Her comment seemed to make Donald squirm harder, which caused Greg to tighten his hold. “Hey, take it easy on my right hand,” Donald protested. “Those are my calculator fingers.”
Christina looked around for something to use against the man who had crashed back into her life. There was the crystal wine decanter on the counter, but it had been in her family for years and she didn’t want to risk breaking it. Her gaze swept across the kitchen table and fell on the tall wooden pepper mill Trina had been toying with earlier.
She picked it up and, holding it by the top, stepped closer to the two men. She waved it near Greg’s face, knowing full well she could never bring herself to hit him, no matter how much he infuriated her. “I’m serious about using this.”
He relaxed his hold slightly on Donald and turned an amused grin on her. “What are you going to do...pepper me with blows?”
Then, as if to show how unconcerned he was about her supposed threat, he turned his attention back to the man pressed against the flowered wallpaper. “Your calculator fingers? Are you an accountant or something?”
“A lawyer. But I want to specialize in accounting,” Donald said as casually as if they were having a business lunch. “For now, though, I’m starting out in general practice.”
Before Christina could work up a steam about being dismissed so offhandedly, Greg released Donald, who rubbed the circulation back into his hand.
“Really?” said Greg. “I’m getting ready to open a new business here in town, and I could use some help setting up my books. Not only that, I have this problem about the lease for the building...”
Before she realized what was happening, Greg had hired Donald as his accountant and legal advisor. The two men shook hands to close the deaL
It was as if they were now the best of friends. Christina doubted she’d ever understand men or their bonding rituals. “Donald, why are you getting involved with him? Have you forgotten what he just suggested to me?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, scratching his head. “That’s going to be a problem.”
“Actually I only need her for a month or so.” Greg straightened his rumpled tie and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “Could be less if the old lady is cooperative.”
“Excuse me, but this is not just another business deal you two are closing!” She situated herself between the men, placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Greg. “The ‘old lady’ is standing right here, and she’s feeling anything but cooperative at the moment.”
Trina looked up from the paper napkin she was folding into a tiny triangle. “You tell ’em, sister!”
Greg actually had the nerve to laugh. “You thought I was referring to you?” He heightened the insult by patronizingly cupping her cheek in the palm of his big hand. “The old lady I spoke of is the ninety-threeyear-old widow who owns the warehouse I want to rent for my new business.”
Christina turned her face away from his warm hand, trying not to think about the last time he’d touched her like that. She needed to get him out of her house—and out of her life. And the sooner, the better. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“I have a chain of exercise gyms along the East Coast. When I recently moved back to Morrison Heights, I decided to open one here, too. Mrs. Odell’s warehouse is in the perfect location, and it’s the right size. The only thing holding up the contract is her need for proof that I’m ‘settled’ enough to suit her.” He gave her a charming smile that showed straight, white teeth and a hint of a dimple. “So I told her I was married. Now she wants to meet my wife. That’s you.”
“You own a chain of exercise gyms, and she wants proof that you’re settled?”
“Well, I am new back in town, and there’s that matter of my jail time...”
Donald’s eyes widened. “Hey, buddy, if you were involved in some kind of white collar crime, then you better find someone else to handle your business affairs.”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Trina said, rising from the table and tugging at her jeans. “It was only robbery, and that must have been ten years ago.”
“I know you’re trying to help, but you’re making it sound worse than it was,” he told Trina. To Donald, he said, “It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and with the wrong people.”
Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “All I need you to do,” he said, turning back to Christina, “is come to Mrs. Odell’s town house with me, meet her for tea and look wholesome and settled.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “That ought not to be hard for you.”
Christina wasn’t sure whether to take that last part as a compliment or an insult.
“I’d offer to stand in for you,” Trina interjected, “but it would be hard for me to tone down my natural ‘glam.’ You, on the other hand, absolutely reek of reliability and stability.”
Greg caught Trina’s eye and made a slicing motion across his throat. She, in turn, mimed a locking gesture beside her mouth, then threw away the imaginary key.
Turning back to Christina, he added, “Oh, and you’ll have to hold off on the annulment until the lease is signed.”
“I can’t do that.” She stepped closer to Donald and reiterated what she’d said before. “We’re getting married, and the annulment needs to be finalized right away.”
“Legal notices are publicized in the newspaper. If word of the annulment gets out before the deal is done, Mrs. Odell will sign the warehouse over to someone else.”
Christina tilted her chin up. His reappearance had her emotions all topsy-turvy, but she couldn’t let him see the power he held over her. She would not bend to his will. “That’s not my concern.”
“Fine, then I won’t sign the papers.”
“Then I’ll just proceed without you. Donald, I can do that, can’t I?”
“Well, it depends—”
“It’s not like we ever lived together, and we certainly didn’t consummate the marriage.”
Donald and Trina spoke in unison. “You didn’t?”
Greg remained silent, leaving it to Christina to explain.
“Circumstances intervened.” No need rehashing the arrest...or the fact that he had rebuffed her after the honeymoon was interrupted. She’d cried many tears over that, not only because he had rejected her when she’d been trying to live up to her marriage vow of sticking by him for better or worse, but also because she’d been forced to consider the possibility that his intent in proposing had not been for marriage itself, but for the wedding night. And once that possibility had been taken away, he no longer wanted her. She tried with limited success to keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke. “In retrospect, it’s clear that our marriage wasn’t meant to be.”
“I still don’t understand how two healthy, normal human beings could pledge themselves to each other, and then not follow through on the best part,” Trina said. “It’s a mystery to me.”
Christina supposed it was fortunate she hadn’t sampled the “best part.” As it was now, Donald’s and her virginity pledge had kept them from being reckless as they headed toward a permanent partnership. In this relationship there was no crazy rushing into marriage, no frantic clinging to each other while yearning for bodily delights. No, this was a much more mature relationship, one that allowed them to exchange chaste kisses without the desperate urge for sexual release. This impending union was nothing at all like the first, and she took that as a good sign. When the time came—after the “I do’s” and when they were ready to start a family—they would proceed calmly and maturely to the marriage bed.
“So I don’t need Greg’s signature in order to proceed, do I?” she prompted.
“No, I don’t think so.” Frowning as he mulled over the particulars, Donald absently rubbed his Adam’s apple. “It may take slightly longer, getting witnesses to say that you’ve lived apart all these years and never slept together, but an annulment should be fairly quick and easy.”
“True,” Greg agreed, “but a divorce can be long and dragged out, especially if it’s contested.”
His deep voice rumbled seductively, and Christina had the feeling he practiced that tone often to get what he wanted. She suspected his success rate was high.
“But we don’t need to go through a divorce since the marriage was never consummated.”
“According to you, it was never consummated, but I might have something different to say about the matter.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Go along with me until the lease is signed,” he said with a smile, his voice deceptively light and coaxing, “and I won’t have to.”
“He’s like that in his business dealings, too,” Trina announced proudly. “He just won’t take no for an answer.”
That was certainly the truth. Christina had never known him to give in easily, especially if he wanted something badly enough. Why, look what measures he’d gone to after he had set his sights on her. Sure, lots of girls at school would have succumbed to his charms—and probably had—but Christina had wanted even then to take her virginity to the altar. After ten years of reflection, she could only guess that marriage had been merely an obstacle to overcome in his quest to bed her.
She turned to look at her fiancé. In light of his easygoing nature and relatively calm reaction to tonight’s turn of events, she guessed he would probably go along with Greg’s request...not that they had much choice. But it was only fair to offer him a say in the matter.
“Donald?”
He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from her as if he were already turning her over to Greg. “I suppose if it’s only to have a cup of tea with an old lady, there wouldn’t be any harm in that”
Donald was such a gentleman, and Christina felt lucky to be engaged to him, even if theirs was a rather odd arrangement. So why did she feel disappointed that he didn’t raise at least a little fuss?
“No, I suppose there wouldn’t,” she reluctantly agreed. But something in the back of her mind whispered that where Greg was concerned, there was always the potential for danger.
“Good, then it’s a deal.” Greg stretched out his hand to Christina. After a moment’s hesitation on her part and his joking reassurance that no buzzer lay hidden in his palm, she slipped her fingers into his.
Once again, Greg had managed to get her to bend to his will. Feeling manipulated and used, she clenched her teeth. She may have been railroaded into the deal, but she was determined to get it over with as soon as possible.
He held her hand in his grip for a mere second longer than necessary, gave a firm but meaningful squeeze, then abruptly let go as he turned to Donald and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, pal. I appreciate your understanding.”
“No problem,” Donald said.
Then, to Christina, Greg added, “I’ll pick you up at three-thirty on Sunday for tea at Mrs. Odell’s.” He looked her over, his gaze settling on the grass-stained, faded jeans and overlarge T-shirt. “And wear something nice.” Greg gave her a devilish wink. “Maybe a white sundress.”
Donald was wrong. This definitely would be a problem.
Christina had just stepped out of the bathtub and into a clean top and pair of jeans when the doorbell rang.
“Be right there,” she hollered.
With a prolonged sigh, she pulled a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair. It wasn’t like Donald to show up unannounced after work unless he’d had a bad day. During those times, he would spout off whatever difficulties he’d incurred at his struggling law practice and then spend the rest of the evening unwinding in front of her television.
Well, she’d had a rough day, too, and tonight she just didn’t know if she could summon the encouragement and smiles he would need to put him back in his usual good mood.
It wasn’t so much the physical exhaustion that came with the job of landscape designer, though that certainly played a part in her frustration. Mostly it was her supervisor, Linda, who had the annoying habit of sending her out on jobs that any of the groundskeepers could have handled. The reason? Because “you have a knack for dealing with difficult customers,” Linda had said, expecting her to be so flattered she’d drop the argument. But today she hadn’t dropped it.
Maybe it was because of the run-in she’d had with Greg the night before, or perhaps a hormonal fluctuation, but today she’d eloquently and insistently pointed out that as the landscape designer, that’s what she intended to do hereafter... design. Routine lawn and plant maintenance would have to be left to the staff hired for that job, no matter how difficult the client might be.
Christina didn’t know if her adamant stance would have an effect on her supervisor, but it had certainly taken the other woman by surprise.
She crossed the living room and reached for the doorknob. Regardless of the result, she needed to do some decompressing and unwinding, herself. And she would start with a trip to the Salad Hut for dinner.
“Hi, I was just going to...” The rest of the sentence hung in her throat as she opened the door and saw not Donald, but Greg standing on her porch.
The image before her was closer to the memory she carried of her teenage groom than the man she’d seen a few nights before. The black jeans reminded her of the rebel he’d once been, and the close-fitting, pectoral-hugging pullover shirt reminded her of one reason she’d said yes to his impetuous proposal. The difference was that he was now bigger, older and more in control...not only of himself, but also of those around him. And the fading pink scar on his cheek hinted that he was still willing to do whatever was necessary to retain that control.
“You’re going to the warehouse with me,” he finished for her and then gave her a quick once-over. “You don’t have to change...you look fine.”
Despite their years apart, a compliment from Greg still unnerved her... made her self-conscious, yet eager to please. How was it that he held such power over her? She tried to make herself immune to his charms, which was about as likely as the tide making itself immune to the pull of the moon. Even so, she ought to at least appear invulnerable.
“Excuse me?” she said evenly.
“No need to apologize. It could happen to anyone,” he said with a devilish grin. “Cucumbers for lunch?”
