Читать книгу Can't Buy Me Love - HEATHER MACALLISTER, Heather Macallister - Страница 11

ALEXIS WAS INSTANTLY ANGRY on so many levels, she could barely respond. “Are you married, Dylan?”

“No.”

“Been married?”

“No.”

“Given birth?”

He leveled a look at her.

“Anyone given birth on your behalf?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“So you really don’t know what’s at stake for women who have children? Things are very different for men and women.”

“No duh.”

“Ooh. Like the technical lawyer-speak, Dylan.”

“I’m not speaking as a lawyer. It’s against the rules.”

“Then what are you speaking as?”

“A friend.”

“I think not.” She’d been aiming for matter-of-fact, but had hit snippy.

He smiled. No grinned, damn it. “You’re still mad at me.”

“I am so over you.” She was. She was.

“You’re still mad. Yes, you are.” The grin widened. “I must be a better lover than I thought.”

Typical. “I’ve had worse,” she told him. “And I’ve had better. You’re somewhere in the middle. Average.” Honestly, never tell a man he was the worst lover you ever had, he wouldn’t believe it. But mediocre? Now that really got to him.

“And how does Vincent rank?”

She couldn’t believe he’d asked that. “You’re not the first to imply that Vincent must have selected me to be on his team because I slept with him, but you’re the most unexpected. That was unworthy of you, Dylan.”

He blinked. “I wasn’t impugning your legal skill.” Watching her carefully, he continued softly, “You’re marrying the guy.”

“Yes.”

“So it’s a safe assumption you’ve slept with him.”

They stared at each other and Alexis knew that she must not look away. Didn’t dare blink. She was good at this game. Her eyes were so dark people remarked on them. She used cosmetics to emphasize them and she practiced chilling expressions that revealed nothing.

However, eyes were one thing. The blush she was horrified to feel creeping up her throat was something else. She, who could bluff anyone, could not bluff Dylan.

She blinked.

And he pounced. “You’ve never slept with the guy.”

Alexis darted a look toward the doorway. How mortifying if Vincent or Margaret caught them discussing such a subject. “That—is—none—of—your—business.”

Dylan sat on the edge of the table. “But I’m fascinated by your logic—or the lack thereof. What the heck are you doing, Alexis?”

“I’m thinking with my head and not with my heart. ‘If more people thought with their heads instead of their hearts, we’d be out of a job.’ You said that.”

“I did. Go on.”

“Well,” she deliberately lowered her voice, injecting a sultry quality, “you know that first, wonderful rush of passion, when two people can’t get enough of each other, when they’re blind to anything else about each other as long as they can be entwined for hours and hours…?”

His eyes had darkened. Alexis thought he might even be drooling. He nodded and swallowed.

Deliberately breaking the mood, she sat back and threw up her hands. “It never lasts. And then you’re stuck with what’s left. And you look around and think, ‘Ick. I can’t live with that. What was I thinking?’ And then you realize you weren’t thinking. You were seduced by the sizzle. This time, I evaluated the rest of the man first. And he’s some man.” She gave Dylan her best seductive smile. “I’ll fire up the sizzle later. And you know I can.”

For a moment, she would have sworn that she had him, then he said, “Better make sure you’ve got some good wood.”

“Don’t be crude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying that if you want little sizzlers, you’re going to have to build the campfire with something.”

“And explain to me why you care about my campfire?”

He reached toward her and she thought he was going to touch her. She just stopped herself from flinching as he tapped the contract before her. “I want to know if successful career women selling themselves as high-priced wives is the new trend.”

“You’re being deliberately insulting.”

He eyed her speculatively. “I might be trying to shake you up and see if all your cylinders are firing.”

“Do you ever use plain English?”

“I thought the statement about selling yourself as a high-priced wife was pretty plain.”

“I look on it as protecting my future and the future of my children.”

“I’m listening.”

He was. And Alexis wanted to explain. “I want children and the thing is, a woman risks a lot careerwise these days. As soon as she’s visibly pregnant, she loses her edge. If she becomes angry, it’s hormones. Sad? Hormones. Aggressive? Hormones. So it’s ‘let’s not put too much pressure on the little mother.’ Give her the routine cases. Don’t let her start long-term litigation, because she’ll be taking maternity leave. And from then on, she’s on the mommy track, because she can’t work the long hours she has been because children get sick and she’ll have child-care problems. And guilt. Let’s not forget the guilt. I have seen it happen over and over again. For some reason, men don’t have these problems. He takes time off to meet with the kid’s teacher and he’s a caring and involved father. She takes time off and she’s allowing her children to interfere with her work. I don’t want to have to choose between my children and my career, so I’ll take time off in the beginning and go back to work when they’re older. The beauty of it is that I’ll pick up right where I left off. That’s what it says in the contract. My lovely, lovely contract. So don’t talk to me about throwing away my career. I’m preserving it.”

Dylan regarded her for a moment, then moved closer on the table until he was sitting right next to her, and then he stared at her some more.

She didn’t want him staring at her and she didn’t want him sitting next to her. He was too close. He made her too aware of him as a man, a man that, in spite of herself, she still wanted. After all this time, it wasn’t fair that her body would betray her this way.

Alexis looked down at her copy of the prenuptial agreement, flinching when Dylan nudged her chin upward with his knuckles. “You’re not in love with him.”

“How could you possibly know how I feel?”

His voice deepened. “Because I remember how you look when you think you’re in love.”

What a low blow. She had been in love. She’d thought Dylan was The One. “Someone once told me that there’re all kinds of love and not all of them come with a ring. This time, I get the ring.”

YEAH, HE’DSAIDTHAT, TOO. Had actually used it again, it was such a good line. But she was missing the point. Dylan indicated the contract. “That’s not a ring. It’s a noose.”

“I’m well aware of your feelings on marriage.”

He gave a huge mock sigh. “Alexis, Alexis, Alexis.”

“What?”

“This isn’t the same. Back then, we’d both worked very hard. And we were going to be working very hard. In different cities. Remember? You were staying in Austin and I was going to Houston.” An awful thought occurred to him. “You didn’t go with the Swinehart firm because it’s in—”

“Of course not.” She spoke with ego-deflating scorn.

“Marriage was impossible then. Neither of us was ready—” he hadn’t been ready “—and I figured you knew it. But you got serious all of a sudden.” Maybe he’d been naive, but he’d thought they could keep in touch as they began their careers. After all, it was what they’d worked for. What they’d talked about. What they’d wanted. Serious life commitments could come later.

“It wasn’t all of a sudden,” she snapped. “I was expecting something entirely different that afternoon. I thought you were going to propose.”

He’d long suspected as much. “I’m sorry. Truly I am. But if we’d stayed together then, we wouldn’t be together now. Not with both of us having the kind of careers we’ve had.”

She didn’t say anything and it irked him. “Marriage would have held you back. You know it’s true. Come on. Admit it.”

“Maybe it would have held you back.”

He just shook his head.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Alexis looked to the side. “You’re right. Happy now?”

He wasn’t. He wasn’t at all. Not because of the wrong timing for the two of them, but because his conscience was telling him she was making a big mistake now and he should stop her. Funny, he never remembered his conscience being this loud before. However, it still made a valid point. Marriage to him wasn’t right for her then, and marriage to Vincent wasn’t right for her now.

“Anyway, every relationship I’ve had since has fallen apart. So instead of basing a relationship solely on mutual attraction and hoping that everything else works out, Vincent and I are basing our marriage on affection, compatibility, respect and shared goals and interests. If we find passion, great. But passion fades. At least I know we’ve got something solid left.”

“Yeah. Over a hundred thousand solids each year.”

She gave him that blank look she was so good at. “You’re flirting with an ethics violation.”

They both knew he’d gone way beyond flirting. He tried for a lighter tone. “I thought I was flirting with you.”

“Your technique needs work.” She checked her watch. “Where are they? I’m supposed to meet with the hotel wedding coordinator.”

“Do you mind me asking what the hurry is?”

“I mind you asking on principle. But the truth is that I wanted to get married here and they had a last-minute cancellation. I could have the booking if I agreed to use all the bride’s choices. There’re too many dripping pearls and way too much netting, but other than tweaking the menu and canceling the karaoke machine, I can live with lilac and white.”

So. Alexis was using someone else’s wedding to marry Vincent. Could she be more unsentimental? Yes, Dylan did wish more of his clients thought with their heads instead of their hearts, but Alexis had carried it to the ultimate extreme.

“But can you live with this?” He picked up the contract and flipped through it. Folding it open to a section he’d hoped her lawyer would have flagged,he set the document in front of her.

She didn’t even glance down. “We’re not supposed to be negotiating the contract without my lawyer present.”

“We’re not negotiating. But due to the time constraints, I thought if there was language to which you objected, you could point it out and while I’m sitting here, I could get a start on making it more acceptable. It would save time.” He tried one of his soothing smiles, which of course, she didn’t buy.

“I would not dream of taking away any element of surprise that Margaret has planned.”

“You’re not supposed to be the one who’s surprised.” Dylan had begun to have doubts about Margaret. The clause in question could be interpreted as allowing Vincent to have mistresses in certain circumstances, the cost of which would be deducted from the payments due Alexis. Why hadn’t she or her lawyer caught that? Had her lawyer been raised in a convent? Clearly, the woman had no clue as to the devious workings of the male mind.

“What do you care?” Alexis asked him.

He…just did. He didn’t expect her to understand because he didn’t quite understand. “Because I don’t want to have to waste my time defending this thing in court when you realize what you’ve signed.”

And that pretty much violated a whole slew of the canon of ethics. He’d get a few moral points, though, not that they would do him any good if Alexis reported him. He didn’t think she would, but the fact that she could was bad enough.

As for Vincent finding out…Dylan would never practice law again.

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

He’d already said too much. “Look at it this way—you know what you’re getting out of the deal, but ask yourself—what’s Vincent getting?”

She gave him a slow, wide smile. “Me.”

WELL, SNAP HER GARTERS if that wasn’t the most impressive thing she’d ever heard in her life. And her death. A hundred thousand dollars a year. Sure, a dollar didn’t go as far now as it did during Sunshine’s life, but from everything Rosebud reported from reading newspapers, a hundred thousand dollars was alot during this life, too.

The dark-haired woman with the awful haircut had not only convinced the silver-haired fellow to marry her, he was paying for the privilege. Well done. Sunshine applauded her, though Alexis couldn’t hear her. It was always heartening to see a sister in sin make good. Women had certainly come a long way.

Sunshine sat on the back of the chair behind Dylan—nice Welsh name—and massaged his neck and shoulders. He wouldn’t feel anything more than a vague relaxed feeling, but Sunshine thought he deserved some relaxing, poor tense baby. The man had itchy pants for Alexis, sure enough, and Sunshine was just in the right spot to know.

But Alexis was way beyond him. Alexis was looking out for Alexis and Sunshine was all for that. From what she’d overheard, it appeared that Mr. Cutie Pie here had had his chance and failed to take advantage of it.

His loss. Besides, for all his squawking, had he made a counteroffer? Not that Sunshine had heard.

Well, Sunshine’s assignment was to make sure the bride and groom had no problems in the bedroom. Technically, it was to make sure they were happy and it was generally found that happiness in the bedroom meant happiness all around. However, bedroom or not, Sunshine was thinking she could be happy with a hundred thousand dollars a year.

DYLAN SAT ALONE in the conference and studied the magnificent view of the Rockies, which he appreciated not at all. What was the matter with him? Alexis had gone to her meeting and now Dylan waited for Vincent and Margaret to return. They all seemed very casual about this whole prenuptial agreement, which left him feeling unsettled. Squeamish. He rubbed at a tight spot just to the side of his neck and miraculously, it eased. Honestly, for all intents and purposes, this was a business merger and if the bride had been anyone else, Dylan would have applauded the match.

But the bride was Alexis.

ALEXIS LAY PRONE ON THE BED of a very quaintly decorated Victorian-style room, the charms of which were currently lost on her.

Alexis’s eyes were closed and she’d taken aspirin to get rid of a throbbing tension headache caused by attempting to appear competent, in control and extremely hot while having her ex negotiate her future. She’d like to see anyone try that and not get a headache.

So? Did Vincent know she’d once dated Dylan or not? She couldn’t tell.

She was long over Dylan. Yes, he was still attractive. No, she was not going to admit that the instant she’d walked into the conference room she’d remembered how his mouth had felt on hers. She wasn’t proud of that. This guy had dumped her. Didn’t she have more self-respect than to picture him naked the first time she saw him in seven years?

Dylan hadn’t been the first to break her heart and he hadn’t been the last, but was there any woman alive who wouldn’t want to make a man who’d once dumped her kick himself when he saw her again?

Instead, she felt kicked. Just listening to him read the generous monetary settlement, with each year of marriage assigned a value in a way she tried not to find humiliating, was a strain. And she didn’t want to justify why she’d agreed to the work terms. She understood why they were there—Vincent planned to have children after all this time and wanted to guarantee that his wife was around to raise them. And he was acknowledging the career sacrifice she’d be making by providing her with financial independence. He’d never wonder whether she was there because she wanted to be, or because she felt stuck.

Why couldn’t everyone understand this?

And it wasn’t as if she was completely abandoning her career in law. She was just off the payroll. Alexis had assisted Vincent for a long time and she expected she’d continue outside the office.

She wasn’t going to think about it anymore. She was going to think about her wedding. Her lilac-and-white wedding. Lilac. The more she said it, the more it grew on her. Thank heaven it wasn’t pink. She was not a pink person, but lilac, possibly with royal-purple accents—she could work with lilac.

And her family was coming in. She and Vincent, though mostly Vincent, were paying their expenses. She would see her parents, her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and—mental drumroll—her sister and brother-in-law, along with three-year-old Madison, whom Alexis would get to see before her fourth birthday.

How wonderful that they were all able to stay a few days. How wonderful that they’d rearranged their schedules for her when she’d been putting them off for years and years…

Had she dozed off? Alexis sat up and quickly squinted at her watch at the same time she became aware of a presence in the room. A presence who was a blonde with old-fashioned sausage curls, red lips, a beauty mark and a great costume. Clearly, one of the hotel maids, probably trying to sneak in a fresh-towel delivery.

“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Sunshine. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No problem. I shouldn’t be sleeping now anyway.”

“Oh, good. I’ve been wanting to meet you. I’m—” here Sunshine clasped both hands over her swelling bodice “—such a fan.”

A fan? “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

“Oh, no. You’re Alexis O’Hara and you’re getting married Sunday afternoon, right?”

“Yes.”

“I just admire you for the way you’ve taken charge of your life. Women make stupid mistakes because they don’t think and they don’t play to their strengths.”

Well, yes, but what was she talking about?

“Don’t depend on what a man tells you to get you in the sack. Make ’em pay up front. And you are.”

Alexis gave her an icy look. “Are you referring to my prenuptial contract?”

Smiling widely, Sunshine nodded, her curls bouncing over her bare shoulders.

Alexis’s jaw dropped. “Were you listening at the door?”

“Certainly not!”

Well, somebody had heard something and Alexis wasn’t going to lower herself by questioning the hotel help. She would, however, inform the others. Vincent had a bad habit of talking loudly on his cell phone no matter where he was.

“Could I ask you a question?”

Alexis nodded.

Beaming, Sunshine bounced on the edge of the bed.

Alexis was taken aback. The maids were very friendly here.

Sunshine leaned forward, revealing an alarming expanse of pushed-up bosom. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Get him to keep paying!” Sunshine giggled. “Just getting him to marry you is what we all hope happens one day before we lose our looks, but how did you get him to agree to keep paying you afterward? Everybody knows it’s supposed to be free then.”

Alexis opened and shut her mouth. Twice. She should be offended, but this young girl was so good-natured and so eager and, well, the fan thing was flattering.

“I’m making a lot of money now and won’t be working after I’m married.”

“Exclusivity, yeah, I can see that. But marriage is usually enough.”

“That is where women go wrong.” Alexis warmed to her theme. “It should be enough. But what happens when you get a little older, you have a couple of kids and things begin to sag and hubby turns you in for a younger model? There you are with your best earning years behind you, and what have you got?”

The awestruck look on Sunshine’s face was exactly the balm Alexis’s frayed nerves needed. Her headache receded. Her self-confidence blossomed.

“And it’s good for him, too,” Alexis continued. “Think about it. He knows darn good and well you can afford to walk out of the marriage if you don’t like it, yet you choose to stay. Frankly, it’s got to be a huge ego boost.”

Were those tears in Sunshine’s eyes? “You’re such an inspiration,” she whispered.

Somebody finally got it. The last of Alexis’s headache eased.

“You’ve got to meet Miss Arlotta.”

Miss Ar—oh! That must be the wedding coordinator. Alexis was late. “I know.” But how did Sunshine know?

“She’s in the attic. I’ll take you there.”

The attic? There had been talk of choosing between two trellises. Maybe that’s where they were stored. Alexis stood and stepped into her shoes. “Thanks.”

“This is such an honor,” Sunshine said.

She was piling it on pretty thick, Alexis thought, then wondered if maybe meeting Miss Arlotta was the honor. She might be very exclusive. Quite honestly, sometime last week, Alexis had stopped asking the price of things.

As they walked down the hallway, Alexis looked to the smiling girl bouncing along next to her. “Great costume.”

“I know.” Sunshine raised a diaphanous panel of the long wrapper she wore. “I was going for innocent naughtiness. The old guys love it.”

The maid sure was blunt. “Good tips, huh?”

She shrugged a milky-white shoulder. “I did okay. Better than some, not as good as others.” She poked Alexis with her elbow. “They love it when they see something they think they’re not supposed to be seeing. You might remember that.”

“Uh, okay. I think it’s a very clever marketing strategy for the hotel to play on its infamous past. I was looking at all the memorabilia in the little parlor downstairs.”

“It was the high rollers’ parlor. For the best customers and, of course, the best girls. Now, me, I figured it was the old guys and the widowers who had the money to spend and I got them to askin’ for me special. Smart, huh?”

Listen to her. She was so into her part. Alexis was charmed. “Very.”

“’Cause once I got to the high rollers’ parlor, other high rollers could see me and some of them would ask for me, too.” She looked momentarily wistful. “Some of them were mighty fine o’ face. Like your beau.”

Alexis knew she was referring to Dylan. Were there cameras in that private dining room? “How did you know?”

Sunshine stepped aside and indicated a door near the fire exit. “Attic stairs.”

Alexis didn’t open the door. “Sunshine, how did you know about Dylan?” If their privacy had been invaded, she wanted to know about it.

“I saw your face.”

Her face? She’d always thought she was good about masking her emotions. And, hey, there weren’t any emotions to mask here, at least not the nostalgic kind. “Was it obvious?”

“Only to me, honey.”

A stranger could figure out that there had once been something between Dylan and Alexis? That was not good.

“Let’s go,” Sunshine urged.

Maybe she should bring it up with Vincent. That would probably be best, Alexis thought as she opened the door and started up the stairs. A casual mention that they’d dated in law school—but then he’d wonder why she hadn’t brought it up before. As she’d explained to her mother, the problem here was that there was no problem and as soon as you tried to explain that there wasn’t a problem, people immediately thought that there was a problem, only you were trying to hide the size of it.

Alexis was so lost in thought that she’d climbed halfway up an extremely dark and dusty staircase before the rickety handrail had her thinking that this couldn’t be meant for guests. Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen. She turned around to mention it to Sunshine. It was so dark, Sunshine nearly disappeared in the gloom. In a trick of what light there was, Alexis thought she could see the stairs right through her. She blinked.

“Just a little farther,” Sunshine said.

“You should tell the manager to install more light here. I’m surprised the building inspectors have let this go.”

“I don’t think the building inspectors see this staircase.”

“That’s not really the point.” Alexis came to the door at the top of the stairs. She reached for the old-fashioned door handle. “Is that original to the building?”

“As far as I know. I’ll get the door.”

Alexis never saw her touch it, yet the door creaked open. “That sounds like original hardware, too. I can’t believe the owner isn’t maintaining it.”

And then Alexis forgot about hotel-maintenance problems because the sight of the attic room rendered her mute.

It was as though the picture of the former brothel’s soiled doves, which hung in Sunshine’s high rollers’ parlor, had come to life. A group of young women, dressed in Victorian dishabille, lounged around boxes, trunks, old sheet-covered furniture and generations of castoffs.

“I—I thought this was a private meeting…”

“Hey, girls! Here she is! This is Alexis O’Hara.”

A tiny dark-haired woman raised her arms in a swirl of vintage Chinese silk. “Brava!” She began to clap in the rhythmic European way. “Brava!”

The others began clapping, too. A redhead in cowboy boots and a bustier stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Yee haw!”

“You do us proud, cherie!”

“What’s going on?” Alexis wondered aloud. Was this like celebrating a birthday at a restaurant and having all the waiters sing? Brides at the Inn at Maiden Falls get a send-off party from costumed maids?

“Yes, yes. She has done well for herself.” A throaty voice boomed from behind a desk that Alexis swore hadn’t been there moments before.

A woman with green-tinged skin, black eyebrows and yellow pin-curled hair sat behind the desk. She was only green-tinged because of the light from the green Tiffany-style torch lamp.

The girls quieted.

“I am Miss Arlotta,” she announced. “You may approach.”

Okay, so she was like a really exclusive wedding coordinator. Alexis decided to play along with whatever skit they were acting out and walked over to the desk. Up close, Miss Arlotta looked straight out of the Madams ’R’ Us catalog.

Sunshine appeared at her side. “Miss Arlotta, Alexis has been offered a contract for marriage that pays her one—hundred—thousand—dollars a year.”

More clapping erupted.

“In gold?” Miss Arlotta asked. She looked at Alexis. “Always make sure it’s in gold.”

Gold. Alexis just stopped herself from laughing. “That’s good advice,” she said, playing her role…of what, she didn’t exactly know.

“And that’s not all!” Sunshine clapped her hands together and gave a little jump. “She also gets the money she would have made if she’d been working.”

Madam Arlotta sat back. “Well, now that is impressive.”

“Maybe not so impressive.” Alexis was being eyed by a sour-faced woman who plucked at the ties around her corseted waist. “Depends on how much she made.”

“I’m very good at what I do,” Alexis said.

The woman sniffed. “Hidden talents. Tricks. They always pay more for pervers—”

“Flo.” The woman immediately went silent. “Alexis is our guest.” Miss Arlotta stood and Alexis could see she was small for a woman with such a big voice. “We want you to know that though years and circumstances separate us, we celebrate what one of our own has accomplished for working women everywhere.”

“I—thank you.” This was just too weird.

“My Got. She vas showered viz more riches zan a royal courtesan.”

“I thought you were a royal courtesan, Countess,” Sunshine said.

“Zat is how I know zis.” The woman shrugged the silk robe over her shoulders. “I consider you my equal.”

Her equal? “And you were a courtesan?”

The Countess inclined her head. “Zat is so.”

“Like…a mistress.”

“Yes.”

The skit wasn’t as fun as it had been. “I’m not going to be a mistress. I’m getting married.”