Oops...We're Married?

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Frowning, Dillon decided he was going to have a talk with his friend. Jake shouldn’t have put his sister in such an uncomfortable position. He suspected his buddy had his own reasons for maneuvering them both into being here…together. But it wasn’t right.

“Let’s dance. It’s the only way we’ll get them to leave us alone.” Expressive eyes darted to Dillon’s, anger darkening them to a shuttered brown.

“Come on. I won’t bite,” he offered in reassurance, even as her tension sneaked into his body by way of the hand he’d never moved from the small of her straight back. Briefly, she leaned into his shoulder, causing annoying waves of hard-hitting awareness to leap through him. Then her back became rigid again, her delicate features wearing a careful, blank mask.

“Sure.” Eleanor couldn’t believe she’d almost melted into Dillon’s arms when the expression on his handsome face changed to bewildering concern.

She lifted her chin and sealed her heart. How long could one measly slow dance last, anyway? As Dillon pulled her close, his touch ignited unwanted tremors of excitement that began in her belly and spiraled out of control to the rest of her suddenly alert body. There was only one thing left to do. She had to take this bull by the horns and toss him out of her corral as soon as possible.

“So, what made you decide to pick me? Weren’t the other two ladies more to your liking?”

“They were. I didn’t pick you. Ryan did.” Dillon couldn’t bite his tongue quick enough to stop the rude words, peeved that the woman had maneuvered him into being so juvenile. When this dance was over he and Ryan were out of here as soon as he could make it happen.

“Do you always let your son pick your dates for you?”

Dillon didn’t miss the angry flush that spread over Eleanor’s porcelain skin or the way his body responded to the slender form he held close to him. If he wasn’t careful, the wasp would realize she ignited more than his temper.

“This isn’t really a date, so I figured this time it wouldn’t matter.” Whirling Eleanor to the tempo of the music, Dillon got tangled in the vanilla fragrance he’d noticed earlier when he’d kissed the stiff woman in his arms.

Telling himself he was not going to give in to the overwhelming desire to smell her long hair, Dillon stepped back slightly to escape the irresistible entrapment she seemed to weave around him.

Fortunately, Eleanor didn’t notice his withdrawal. She was too busy ignoring him…and watching Ryan, who was eating an ice-cream sundae with Jake and the fake judge. A rare expression softened her features. How could she be as prickly as a cactus one minute and soft with unspoken longing the next?

Before Dillon could pursue that thought, Eleanor muttered, “Now, what’s he up to?”

“Who?” But he already knew the answer as he saw one of Jake’s fellow U.S. Marshals lean close to his friend’s shoulder. Jake nodded briskly, changing instantly from the laughing mischief-maker he usually portrayed to the no-nonsense U.S. Deputy Marshal he really was.

“Looks like maybe we’re done here,” Dillon said cheerfully as he and Eleanor walked to the table where Jake was now standing.

“What’s up?” Dillon pulled a chair out for Eleanor to sit next to Ryan.

“I just got the orders I’ve been waiting for on a case I was assigned last week. I have just enough time to pack a bag and turn my house keys over to a friend I’m subletting to.”

“You’re subletting your house? To whom?” Dillon watched Ryan climb down from his chair to stand close to Eleanor’s shoulder as he seriously studied her. He was afraid to guess what was going through his son’s agile mind.

“Remember my buddy who just got married? Well, the closing on their house got delayed and their lease ran out, so he and the new wife are going to stay at my place until the deal on their house closes.”

Dillon knew better, but he asked, anyway. “Where are you going?”

Jake only shrugged his shoulders and smiled his most secret grin, not about to give anything away.

“You’re my new mom, aren’t you?”

Dillon glanced quickly at his son and groaned. Once the little guy got something stuck in his mind, it was so hard to convince him otherwise.

“Son, remember this is only make-believe. Eleanor and I didn’t really get married tonight—”

Suddenly spitting into his napkin, the fake judge jumped up from his seat. “What do you mean you’re not married? Of course you’re married. I just married you in front of God and witnesses.”

Dillon laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

Stunned, Dillon looked from the old guy to his excited son, then noticed the horrified look on Eleanor’s frozen features.

“No. This can’t be real,” she whispered, one elegant hand going to the frantically beating pulse at her throat.

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Dillon looked at Jake, suspicion starting to crawl up his spine as a delighted smile spread across his friend’s face.

“Yes, ma’am. I married ya. As a duly appointed judge in the State of Oregon, I’ve been marrying folks for nigh on forty years. Can’t think why it wouldn’t be legal now. You young folks signed the license, all right. We had witnesses. And I signed, too. That’s how it’s done.” Pulling his spectacles from his nose, the old gent squinted while he gingerly wiped the glasses with a snowy-white hankie he pulled from his breast pocket.

Legally married to Eleanor Rose? But she’s not even on my list…. She’s not what I’m looking for, was all Dillon could think. Freezing mid-thought, he glared at his good buddy.

Barely suppressing a desire to punch him in the shoulder the way she did when they were kids and he’d gotten her into one more mess, Eleanor hissed at Jake. “You did this.”

“No, I didn’t. I swear it. I wish I had.” Jake backed away, holding his hands up, palms toward her in surrender, his voice filled with as much surprise as she felt. “I admit, I did work to get you both here, but even I wouldn’t have the guts to deliberately plan a secret marriage between the two of you.”

“Then how did this happen?” Eleanor fired back at her foster brother, horrified to find tears gathering behind her eyes before the thought of murdering Jake rescued her.

“Maybe Cupid had something to do with it,” Jake offered, his expression suddenly soft with caring, before changing to pleased approval as he continued his retreat, his hands still lifted in total surrender.

Cupid? Did the brat have any brain cells left at all?

“Jake Solomon, don’t you dare leave now. You have to fix this. I can’t be married to him.” Eleanor watched her foster brother’s expression change to naughty-boy mischief, and her heart sank.

“I can’t stay, El. I’ve got an assignment. I have to leave. I’m sorry. I can’t fix this for you. Dillon will have to take care of everything. But if you want to know my opinion, I think this is the best thing to ever happen. I only wish I could claim responsibility, so I could take the credit and hold it over your heads for the rest of your lives.”

With a quick wave, a deep chuckle of delight and the parting words, “Dillon, take care of El for me, she’s very special,” Jake was gone, leaving Eleanor feeling very frustrated and suddenly more alone than ever.

Eleanor turned slowly, her mind working at top speed for a way out of the bizarre predicament Jake had left her in. Dillon and Ryan waited behind her; Dillon warily, Ryan not containing his wild excitement.

“Where’s that judge? We have to talk to him, get him to undo this, make us unmarried or something.” Eleanor couldn’t stop the panic that edged her babbling.

“He’s gone,” Dillon said. “Couldn’t stop him. Said he had another wedding to perform.” Still feeling as if his wits had been scrambled, he clutched their wedding license in one hand and Ryan’s hand in the other. “And, by the looks of this paper, unless I can find a loophole, I’d say we are legally married.”

Chapter Four

Dillon shifted uneasily at the smothering tension that surrounded them as he, Ryan and Eleanor climbed into his pickup. Once Ryan heard that his dad and Eleanor were really married, his son had latched on to Eleanor’s hand as if he was never going to let the woman go.

Even now, Ryan was leaning forward from the back seat of the extended cab, his tiny hand resting possessively on Eleanor’s shoulder. In a brief movement, she shifted, trapping his son’s fingers between her shoulder and ear. Gently, she moved her head back and forth as if she was trying to smooth away some disappointment she knew was coming.

Sudden desire streaked through Dillon at the surprising gesture. Did Eleanor care for his son’s tender feelings? She probably didn’t have a clue how attractive that possibility made her.

“Ryan, sit back and put your seat belt on.” Dillon turned the key to start the engine, still thinking about the seemingly distant woman beside him. Her classic features carefully blank, Eleanor turned away from him, looking into the still night outside her window.

“I can’t believe Jake left me without a ride home,” she mumbled unhappily.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked a little gruffly, unreasonably wanting to shatter her isolation.

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going home with us. You’re my new mom.”

The enthusiasm in Ryan’s little voice sparkled brightly, filling Dillon with regret and anger. Ryan deserved to have a mom. A real mom, not this silent, remote, accidental “mom” who’d gently rubbed her cheek against his son’s small hand before the child reluctantly sat back and fastened his seat belt.

“Ryan, Miss Eleanor and I are not really married,” Dillon gently reminded his son as Eleanor’s stiff posture made him wonder angrily what was really going on behind the silent mask of her features. For a moment, while they’d danced, she’d taken her glasses off, but now they were firmly back in place, a shield she apparently hid behind. “There was a mistake. She doesn’t want to come home with us.”

When Eleanor swung around to glare at him, her silky blond hair swinging wildly around her shoulders, he realized he’d chosen the wrong words. And it made him even angrier. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t want to be married to him. He didn’t want to be married to her, either. And, just for that brief second, crawling out from under some hidden rock in his soul was a feeling of confusing disappointment.

“The man said he married you. That means she’s my mom.”

In a heartbeat, the wildfire in the deep whisky eyes hiding behind the windows of her glasses, changed to disbelieving panic, matching the feeling starting to fuel Dillon’s own emotions.