Читать книгу The Temporary Mrs King - Maureen Child - Страница 9

Walter Stanford was somewhere in his seventies, but his sharp blue eyes didn’t miss much. He was tall, with snowy white hair, a hard jaw and the bearing of a much younger man. He stood behind the wide desk in his library and looked at Sean with a cool, dispassionate eye.

Sean met the older man stare for stare, never blinking. He knew how to run a negotiation and knew all too well that the first man who spoke, lost power. So he kept quiet and waited for the older man to say something.

Walter Stanford’s suite took up half of the entire top floor of the hotel, with Melinda’s private quarters in the other half. It was old-world elegant, again with just a touch of shabbiness. As if the place had seen better times. Sean had to wonder if the old man was as wealthy as rumor suggested.

He had noticed a couple of telltale water marks on the ceiling, proof of a leaky roof that hadn’t been fixed in time. And there were other things too. Nothing over the top, he thought, just tiny warning flags. Scars on the wood floors, chipped molding, window casements where the plaster had crumbled.

Of course, none of that proved anything. All it might mean was that Walter Stanford was simply too busy or too uninterested to make the dozens of minor repairs buildings always required. Or, he thought, it could mean that the old man needed this hotel deal far more than he wanted the Kings to know.

Sean smiled to himself, but kept his expression carefully neutral.

“You’ve met my granddaughter,” Walter said, taking a seat in the bloodred desk chair.

“Yes. She seems … nice,” he offered, enjoying using her own word.

The three of them had spent the last twenty minutes chatting and talking about the island. Melinda had left the room just a moment ago and, Sean thought, Walter wasn’t wasting any time.

“Let me be frank,” the older man said, setting his elbows on the desktop and steepling his fingers. “You want to build a hotel on my island. I want my granddaughter happy.”

Sean took a seat in the chair opposite the desk and set one foot atop the other knee and prepared to play dumb. “What’s one have to do with the other?”

Walter gave him a smile and a wink. “You’re single. Wealthy. Reasonably good-looking.”

Wryly, Sean said, “Thank you.”

Tucking his fingertips beneath his chin, Walter continued. “I believe in laying my cards out on the table, how about you?”

“Always best to know what the other man’s holding.”

“Excellent. Then let’s get down to business. I want you to marry my granddaughter. Once you’ve done that, the land is yours.”

If Melinda hadn’t prepared him for this yesterday, Sean thought, he would have fallen out of his chair. Even prepared, even with a deal already in place, he was a little surprised. Amazing to think that in the twenty-first century, women were still being bartered.

Of course, this woman had done the bartering herself and damned if she hadn’t negotiated a hell of a deal.

Walter was waiting for an answer and Sean let him wait. His brain raced with the implications of what he was about to agree to. Getting married, even temporarily, was a huge step. He didn’t want to, but he had spent the better part of last night lying awake trying to come up with a different way to get what he wanted—and he’d come up empty.

Just as, no doubt, Melinda had known he would.

The Stanfords, both of them, were stubborn enough to be Kings.

Tapping his fingers against his knee, Sean asked, “How does Melinda feel about this?”

Walter frowned briefly. “She understands. It’s good for her. Good for the family. Good for the island.”

Unexpectedly, a ripple of anger washed through Sean. If Melinda hadn’t stepped up to chart her own course and make her own deal with Sean, she would have been no more than a bound sacrifice, stretched out across the Stanford altar.

Good for the island.

Who did things like that now?

Frowning, Sean watched the older man and tried to read his eyes. But the old guy must have been a hell of a poker player back in the day. His expression gave away nothing.

“Well?” The older man dropped both hands to the black blotter on his desk. “What do you say?”

There was a lot he should say, Sean thought. He should tell the old man that his granddaughter was worth more than a bargaining chip to be used in a deal. Hell, a couple of hours spent with her had told Sean that much. He should say that Melinda had a sharp mind and a clever way of driving a bargain. He should tell both of the Stanfords to go to hell and take their island with them.

He’d love to tell him that his granddaughter was filling up his mind with tempting thoughts that were destined to go nowhere. That one touch of her hand was enough to set off fires inside him that were still burning hours later.

But he couldn’t tell him that either, so Sean would say nothing about any of it.

“Agreed,” he heard himself say and saw the flicker of surprise in the old man’s eyes. Apparently, he couldn’t disguise everything he was feeling. Or didn’t care to.

“Really. That easily?” He leaned back in his chair and the springs creaked. “You’ll forgive me, but I’m curious as to your quick acceptance.”

Sean smiled. “Changing your mind already?”

“Not at all.” Walter spread his hands wide. “I only thought it would take more to convince you.”

“Melinda’s a beautiful woman,” he said, remembering the flash of her blue eyes as she looked at him before leaving the room a few minutes ago.

“She is—but there’s more to her than her beauty,” her grandfather pointed out.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Sean agreed, though he already knew firsthand just what a clever mind Melinda had. “Once we’re married, we’ll have plenty of time to find out all about each other.”

“Hmm …”

“I assume you’ve already checked me out,” Sean said. Knowing Melinda had researched him assured Sean that her grandfather had done so as well.

“I have.”

Sean nodded. “You made the offer. I accepted. End of story.”

Walter was watching him as if waiting for Sean to change his mind. Sean fought another smile. The man had wheeled and dealed his granddaughter to a stranger and now that the stranger had agreed, the old man was having second thoughts? Too late for that. They had a deal and the Kings would soon be arriving to get the project underway.

Pushing up from his chair, Sean stretched out his right hand and said, “I’ll just go tell my bride the good news. Then I’ll phone my brothers and let them know we can get started on the hotel right away.”

Walter stood up too, took Sean’s hand and shook it. When he released him again, the older man said, “You can start construction the day after the wedding.”

Both of Sean’s eyebrows went up. “Don’t trust me to go through with it?”

“If I didn’t trust you,” Walter said softly, “you wouldn’t be marrying my granddaughter. Let’s just say I prefer to have all of my bases covered.”

“Fine,” Sean agreed with a nod. “I’ll have our lawyers fax you the paperwork this afternoon.”

“And my lawyer will have a contract for you to sign as well.”

Sean’s gaze locked with the older man’s and for just an instant, there was a silent conversation between them. Two men, each of them powerful, each of them walking into this bargain with their eyes wide open and each of them thinking about the woman at the center of it all.

Hope you know what you’re starting here.

You and my granddaughter will work out fine.

If that’s what the old guy believed, Sean thought grimly, then he was way off base. And for just an instant, he felt guilty about tricking Walter Stanford. Then he remembered it hadn’t been his idea and if Melinda was comfortable with this setup, then why should he mind?

Sean smiled. “I’ll go see Melinda and tell her it’s settled.”

“Fine, fine,” Walter told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Perhaps you could join me later for a private dinner where we can discuss your plans for the future? Shall we say seven? Here, in my suite?”

Sean eyed the older man. “Sure, I’ll see you later, then. Meanwhile, I’m guessing you’ll handle all the details of the wedding?”

Walter nodded. “By the end of the week, you’ll be a married man.”

End of the week.

That rang a gong with the tone of finality inside his head. But Sean ignored it. He’d made his decision, and he wouldn’t go back on it now.

“Melinda’s a strong woman with a good heart. See that you remember that.”

“I will.” Sean left the room then, in search of the ‘good-hearted’ bride who drove a bargain like no one else he had ever known.

The next morning was a disaster.

Sean stared at his computer screen, waiting for his phone call to go through. He caught his own reflection staring back at him and winced. Even in the hazy mirror of the screen, he looked like death. That would teach him to drink brandy with an old man who probably had the stuff flowing through his veins.

But Stanford had wanted to toast their bargain. Since this was supposed to be real, Sean hadn’t been able to think of a reason not to. Hours later, after listening to stories of island life and Melinda’s childhood, all washed down with glass after glass of expensive brandy, Sean had staggered to his room.

He’d lain awake, waiting for the room to stop spinning before finally falling asleep. Then he’d been chased in his dreams by a wildly laughing Stanford waving a giant brandy bottle at him while Melinda threw bouquet after bouquet at his head.

“Don’t even want that dream analyzed,” he murmured.

All he really wanted at the moment was to quiet the jackhammers behind his eyes. He coughed and his head almost exploded. Moaning softly, he was reaching for a bottle of aspirin when his brother Rafe’s face came up on the screen.

“Sean—” He paused and frowned. “Damn. You look like hell.”

Thanks to videophone conferencing, there was no disguising his hangover. For the first time in his life, Sean cursed technology. “Yeah, thanks Rafe. Nice to see you, too.”

His brother’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you hungover?”

“Brilliant observation,” Sean said tightly as he struggled with the cap on the aspirin bottle. Childproof, okay. But did they have to seal the damn thing as if it contained the nuclear codes for Armageddon?

“Hard to miss, what with the dark circles under your eyes and the way you’re cringing in the sunlight like a vampire away from his crypt.”

God, why hadn’t he waited to call until later? Or at least closed the drapes? Well, he knew why he hadn’t done that. It had just seemed too taxing at the time.

“What’s going on?” Rafe asked. “Did you get the deal?”

“The deal. About that …”

“Damn it, Sean,” Rafe shouted.

“Can you dial it down a notch or two?” Sean rubbed at the spot between his eyes even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He finally managed to get the aspirin bottle open and tapped two tablets onto his palm. Then he tapped out two more. Desperate times.

He washed them all down with a long gulp of water from the bottle on his desk and prayed they were miracle aspirins, about to kick in and restore him to health in the next thirty seconds.

No luck.

Rafe grumbled, took a breath and said, “Fine. I’m calm. Now tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” Sean said, rubbing his eyes. “And I’d rather tell it only once. Is Lucas in the office?”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Rafe muttered, “but yeah. He’s here.” Reaching to one side of his desk, he hit a button and said, “Marie, get Lucas in here, will you? Thanks.”

“Marie? New assistant?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” Rafe admitted. “Katie insisted I hire somebody to help me so I can get home in time for dinner every night.”

His brother might sound like he was complaining, but Sean knew how nuts about his wife Rafe really was. And who could blame him? Rafe could be a pain in the ass at times, but his wife was a peach. Not to mention, she made the best cookies in the known universe.

“How’s Katie?” Sean managed to ask.

“She’s great,” Rafe said and a soft smile curved his mouth. Amazing the changes Katie had made to the formerly surly Rafe King. “She says I should tell you she’s saving a batch of her pistachio chocolate mint cookies for you.”

Sean swallowed hard. Ordinarily, that would have been a nice surprise. At the moment though, it felt like live snakes were writhing in his belly. Still, it was the thought that counted. “Tell her thanks.”

Rafe frowned at Sean’s less than enthusiastic reply, then waved Lucas over when he came into the room. In a second or two, Lucas was sitting beside Rafe so that both of them could be seen.

“Damn,” Lucas said, pulling his head back in shock. “You look like hell.”

Sean sighed. “That’s the consensus. How’s the baby?”

“Danny’s great,” Lucas said, grinning. “I swear he said Daddy this morning.”

Sean laughed and was rewarded with another jolt of pain. Since his new nephew was barely three months old, that wasn’t likely. But Lucas was convinced his son was a genius. And who was Sean to argue?

“On topic, guys? Are you out there partying with some blonde when you should be doing business?” Rafe asked.

“Because the blondes can wait until we get the damn land,” Lucas put in.

“He doesn’t need to be dating any blondes when he’s there to work,” Rafe argued.

“I agree, but he’s not dead and he’s not married, Rafe. God, I thought Katie had lightened you up a little.”

“I don’t need lightening up.”

His brothers’ voices were getting louder and the pain in Sean’s head just kept growing. He tried to tune out the argument taking place back in Long Beach, California. But Kings were hard to ignore. Even for one of the family.

Rafe and Lucas could go on for hours and Sean knew it. Their argument would slide from Sean to their current project and might even drift to old grudges from when they were all kids.

He smiled in spite of his headache. All of his brothers were close. Their father, Ben King, had never married any of the women who bore his many sons, but every summer, he gathered his sons together at his ranch in California. For three months every year, the King boys were real brothers and they had forged a bond that had only gotten stronger over the years.

Sean’s smile faded a bit as he thought about his parents. Ben had done the best he could, he knew. But Sean’s mother had been too fragile to deal with life. Too … breakable to leave the man she had eventually married, even when the abuse began and—

“Sean!”

He came up out of the misery of his memories with a grateful start. Looking at his brothers’ identical expressions, he cleared his throat and said, “There is no blonde.”

“Well that’s something anyway,” Rafe muttered.

“She’s got black hair,” Sean said. But that didn’t describe Melinda’s hair either. More like the color of deepest night, when a man’s dreams and fantasies came to life. When a woman with eyes like hers and a touch that was all heat could turn even the strongest man into Jell-O.

He sighed, letting her memory fill his mind and reverberate throughout his body. This was going to be a long couple of months, he told himself. Not being able to touch her was going to take every ounce of self-control he possessed. Because he had known her for about twenty-four hours and already wanted her. Bad.

“I knew there’d be a woman,” Lucas said, almost proudly. But then, Sean thought, maybe his brother was living vicariously now that he was married.

“Let him talk.” The voice of reason from Rafe. Amazing, Sean thought. Katie really was a miracle worker.

“I thought we were meeting about the hotel project,” Lucas grumbled. “I’m not interested in hearing about Sean’s latest conquest.”

That was all it took for the two of them to run away with the conversation again. If he were back home, in the office, Sean would be munching on cookies and using his smartphone to check in on customer bases and suppliers. Here, he was lucky just to be sitting upright.

Sunlight was bright in the hotel room, but thankfully, the desk where he was sitting was positioned so that his back was to the bay window. He knew that out the window lay a fantastic view of the harbor and pristine aqua-blue ocean, if he was interested—which he wasn’t at the moment. It was way too bright out there.

His hotel room at the Stanford hotel was the kind of plush he could only guess would have been considered five stars fifty years ago. Their one big concession to modern life seemed to be the high-speed internet service and the minibars. Otherwise, he might have been on an old movie set.

There were no flat-screen TVs or high-end bathrooms or, hell, even hairdryers or in-room coffee setups. And yet, there was something quietly … elegant here that no modern hotel could ever hope to claim.

“Okay, fine,” Lucas was telling Rafe. “I’ll listen to Sean if you’ll keep quiet.”

Sean laughed, then winced as his headache pounded.

“What’s this about Sean?” Rafe asked in a quiet, even tone that had Sean silently thanking him.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted. It had been a wild twenty-four hours and he wasn’t sure even he completely believed what had happened.

“Start with the land,” Lucas prodded. “Do we have the deal or not?”

Sean pulled in a deep breath, then took another long gulp of water while his brothers waited impatiently.

“Well?” Rafe asked.

Snorting a choked-off laugh, Sean said, “There’s some good news and some bad news.”

“Perfect,” Rafe muttered.

“Start with the good,” Lucas told him. “It’ll give me strength for the rest of it.

“Okay, good news is, we got the deal.”

Rafe and Lucas both laughed in relief. “Well, why the hell didn’t you say so?” Rafe crowed.

“I knew you could do it,” Lucas said. “I told Rose just last night that nobody can stand against Sean when he turns on the King charm.”

“Hmm …” He would have agreed a couple of days ago. But, since meeting Melinda Stanford, he had to admit that his charm apparently had limits. She hadn’t proposed to him because she was blown away by his wit and seductive powers. And she sure as hell wasn’t tumbling into his bed. Yet.

“Okay,” Rafe said. “Let’s have the bad news.”

“How bad can it be?” Lucas said, still grinning. “We got the deal. We can start construction right away and—”

“Let him finish,” Rafe said without taking his gaze from Sean’s.

Sean kept his eyes fixed on Rafe, since there was no point in trying to avoid it anyway. “Okay, the thing is, looks like I’m getting married.”

Silence.

His brothers just stared at him. Then they turned to look at each other before shifting their gazes back to Sean in a move that was so smooth it looked choreographed.

“Married?” Rafe said.

“Are you nuts?” Lucas asked.

“The black-haired woman?” Rafe asked.

“The very one,” Sean told them. “Melinda Stanford.”

“Walter’s granddaughter. That’s why the phone call.”

Sean looked at Lucas and nodded.

“You met her, fell in love and proposed all in twenty-four hours?” Rafe demanded, his voice hitching higher with every word.

Sean stiffened. “Who said anything about love?”

“Then what the hell, Sean?”

“I made a deal with Melinda. We get married, the Kings get the land.”

“Oh hell no,” Rafe argued. Clearly outraged, his spine went stiff and his chin jutted out as if he were stepping into a knock-down, drag-out fight.

“This is ‘taking one for the team’ to a whole new level,” Lucas put in.

Sean rubbed one hand across his face and prayed again that the aspirin he took would start working before his head exploded. “It’s done. I made the deal, and I’ll stick with it.”

“Why would you do that?”

He snapped, “I didn’t see any other way to get the property.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“No, I’m not,” Sean said, reeling in the irritation starting to churn inside. “It’s a temporary thing. Two months and we’ll get a divorce. But the Kings will still have the land.”

Lucas shook his head as if he couldn’t think of anything to say—which under other circumstances might have been funny. Rafe, on the other hand, wasn’t having that problem.

“You can’t do this, Sean,” he said tightly. “Getting married knowing you’re getting a divorce just isn’t—”

“What,” he asked, “right?”

“What I want for you,” his older brother finished pointedly. “When you get married it should damn well mean something.”

Sean gritted his teeth and bit back the words he wanted to say. That getting married didn’t mean anything to some people. That he’d already tried marriage a long time ago and wasn’t interested in repeating that mistake. That the only reason he had agreed to this farce was so that his family could get what they needed—and because he had an escape clause written into the bargain.

His brothers were happily married to wonderful women they each loved desperately. They would never understand Sean’s point of view. And why would they? His brothers didn’t know that Sean had already been married once before. In fact, no one knew about that very brief, very messy marriage and divorce and that was how he wanted it.

Kings made mistakes, sure. But they didn’t talk about them and they for damn sure didn’t share their feelings about them. It had been Sean’s mistake, and he’d cleaned it up. Dredging it back up now wouldn’t serve any purpose at all.

When he felt like he could speak without clenching his teeth even tighter, Sean said, “Don’t think of it as a marriage. Just a merger.”

“Damn strange way to do business,” Lucas muttered.

“Strange or not, we’re getting what we want out of it,” Sean told them. And that’s what he had to keep uppermost in his mind. This was for the Kings. For their future. Going into business on this hotel with their cousin Rico would take their construction company to an even higher level than where they already were and that was something that was worth any risk. “Walter’s going to have the deed to the property drawn up for our signatures before the wedding.”

“Which is when?” Rafe wanted to know.

“By the end of the week,” Sean said and swallowed hard as if there were a noose around his neck, tightening. Ridiculous. He had agreed to this, and he wouldn’t back out.