Читать книгу Last Resort: Marriage - Pamela Stone - Страница 10

Charlotte’s head throbbed. Things were happening too fast. How could her entire life turn upside-down in thirty-six hours?

The reflection in the pink marble-framed mirror was that of a stranger. Soft curls teased her cheek. She shifted from one satin stiletto to the other and tried to stand still as the hairdresser fussed with the placement of tiny flowers in her hair. She fingered her grandmother’s pearls. Today they felt more like a noose than a treasured family heirloom.

She’d never made use of the spa at the resort for more than an occasional massage, yet today Edward had pushed her into the shell-pink suites where her body had been massaged, waxed, buffed and conditioned. Her nails were French-tipped and the girl had painted a tiny white flower on her big toe. Subtle highlights streaked her freshly trimmed and curled hair. The artistically applied makeup put the two-minute blush and mascara she smeared on each morning to shame.

Edward had instructed Rosa, the woman who ran the resort boutique, to pick out a special outfit for the occasion. Rosa had been born with a rare gift for guessing a customer’s size, taste and credit limit in the span of twenty seconds. Always attentive to details, she’d included an array of accessories, right down to a lacy blue garter.

Charlotte felt like Cinderella. All this feminine pampering would have made her mother proud.

Still, it seemed senseless for a pretend wedding. Okay, so the wedding was real, but the marriage was temporary.

To satisfy the old saying, she had a blue garter, a new dress and the heirloom pearls she’d inherited after her grandmother died. Charlotte closed her eyes. Did a groom count as something borrowed?

She just wanted to get this dog and pony show over with. Focus on the goal. If they could pull this off, in six months Edward would sign the resort over to her, Aaron would be history, and she could put this insane charade behind her.

Charlotte blinked at her reflection. Who was this chic woman staring back? She was getting married in…She glanced at her Gucci watch and gulped. “I’m late.”

She smoothed her white linen tea-length gown, waved Rosa and the fretting hairdresser away, and hurried across the manicured lawn.

A lavish reception filled the Hibiscus Ballroom. Charlotte’s personal attorney had Aaron’s signature on the prenuptial agreement and the bank had approved the loan. Her stomach cramped. The payments on a hundred thousand dollars would put a sizeable crimp in her investment portfolio.

Palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze as Edward strolled down the sidewalk, looped his arm through hers, and whispered, “The most beautiful bride since your grandmother walked down the aisle fifty years ago. She’d be so proud. She worried that you wouldn’t take time for a family.”

Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes.

She squeezed his arm. How could she love someone so much and want to strangle him at the same time? As much as she hated his ability to manipulate her, there wasn’t a soul on earth who loved her except her grandfather. No matter how foolhardy his plan, his intentions were irreproachable.

They moved toward a small yacht that had sailed up to the resort dock an hour ago. It sported bright aquamarine trim and flew billowing flags. A dubious-looking captain in a flashy uniform stood at the helm amidst a forest of bright tropical flowers.

Bile rose in her throat.

You can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. The next time her feet touched this grass, she’d be a married woman. Married to Aaron Brody. She froze.

She hadn’t eaten all day. Maybe she could faint and save herself from this self-inflicted lunacy. Except she’d never fainted, not once in her entire life, so the chances of that feminine ploy saving her from this fiasco seemed remote.

A resort wedding created excitement, but today’s crowd seemed unusually enthusiastic. Guests stopped to smile and applaud as she passed. Aaron’s friends and a handful of her employees waved from the deck. Strange time to realize she didn’t have any friends, only business acquaintances.

Charlotte had always clung to the idea that if she ever did marry, it would be to a man she loved. A fat brown pelican taunted her from the corner post of the dock. So much for her one girlish fantasy. Clutching her grandfather’s arm, she took a tentative step onto the yacht. A step away from her safe world. A step toward her new life as a deceiver.

The bridal march began. Her eyes searched out Aaron standing at the front of the boat. She let out a relieved breath. He’d actually shown up.

It took a minute to recognize him. He looked elegant in a formal black tux. Like a gentleman—suave, calm, almost eager. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before the charming smile returned. His eyes smoldered as she walked down the short aisle.

Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched Charlie approach. My God, she’s regal. She radiated class from her upswept hair to the tip of her white sandals. Tall and slender, back straight as a soldier, head held proud, and wearing a flimsy white dress that rustled and clung to her curves as she glided toward him.

Tempting cleavage peeked out above the square neckline. Her arms were bare. Too bad the dress covered so much of her legs.

A few wispy strands of dark blond hair curled down her back and at her temples. Tiny white flowers cupped one side of her face in a gentle caress. She looked beautiful. Scared to death, but beautiful.

He crooked his arm and her grandfather placed her small hand on his forearm. Covering her slender fingers, he leaned close. “Slow and easy, Charlie.”

Barely listening to Johnny’s words as the ceremony progressed, he tamped down an unexpected surge of panic. He was getting—he swallowed—married. Married to a sophisticated heiress.

She had a wall full of diplomas and he hadn’t finished high school. He tugged at his constricting collar, reminding himself of the papers he’d signed today. He sure as hell hoped that lawyer of hers had been on the level when he’d explained the agreement, but Charlie would have turned gray at the altar waiting for him to muddle through all those legal terms.

A hundred thousand dollars, Brody.

Johnny cleared his throat and Aaron realized everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Charlie focused straight ahead, but her manicured fingernails dug into his arm.

“I do.”

The sound of released breaths, a few feminine sighs, and then Johnny recited some gibberish about rings being the symbol of eternity never broken.

Aaron took the ring out of his jacket pocket and slipped it onto Charlie’s finger. “It was my mother’s.” Why had he told her that?

She frowned at the cheap, tarnished band. Had she expected him to drop a bundle on a diamond?

“You may kiss your bride.”

Placing one hand at the small of her back, he slid his other around her shoulders. Her eyes were huge as they stared up at him. They were the most incredible shade of brown. Dark and rich like the first cup of morning coffee, a shade shy of black. Whether it was the apprehension in her expression or her racing heart, holding her was like holding a captive bird. He wasn’t sure if that was what turned him on, but something did. And she was his wife. For a few months, anyway.

He blinked and diverted his attention to her full lips. Pouting lips that turned down at the corners, waiting for him to take possession. His mouth closed over hers, gentle at first. The tip of his tongue teased her glossy lips apart.

Her body melted, becoming soft and pliant. He was amazed how small her waist was before his hands slid lower to pull her close. That frigid professional aura hid an exceptionally feminine body. Even her scent was an intoxicating fusion of self-assurance and vulnerability.

“Mmm,” she whispered.

That faint murmur made his brain fuzzy. He lost track of time acquainting himself with the phenomenon that was his wife. Her fingers curled around his neck and her tongue ventured out to meet his.

Charlie’s active participation in what started out as a simple kiss caught him off guard.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Brody.”

Aaron drew away from her mouth and took her hand. Cheers went up. Flower petals rained from the sky like a soft summer shower, blanketing the deck of the yacht in bright, fragrant color.

He looked at Charlie and winked.

They led their guests along the rambling sidewalk, across a narrow bridge that spanned the pool, and into the ballroom.

Mounds of delicacies adorned white linen-covered tables. Soft jazz filtered through the air from a band hidden away in the corner.

He put his arm around her waist as old man Harrington directed them to form a receiving line. Her expression hadn’t changed since she’d plastered on the China doll smile when Johnny pronounced them husband and wife.

Typical of the Keys, people took their time stopping to chat and congratulate them. She fidgeted and twisted her new ring. He hadn’t expected cool, calm, in-control Charlotte Harrington to get so uptight carrying out her calculated scheme.

He flagged down a waiter, snagged a glass of champagne, and offered it to his wife. His wife. “Take a sip. It’s hot in here.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

He took a drink and held the glass to her lips. “It’ll calm your wedding nerves.”

Taking the glass, she scowled. “It is warm.”

Aaron nodded at a passing waiter. “Could you see about cranking the air conditioner up a notch or two?”

“Yes, sir, right away.”

Rosa and Raul were the last to make their way through the line. Rosa kissed first the bride then Aaron’s cheek.

Raul’s smile sparked pure devilish enjoyment as he shook Aaron’s hand and leaned close. “Your wife is muy elegante.”

His friend was betting he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. He was careful that only Raul saw his obscene hand gesture. “Yes, she is.”

Raul slipped his arm around Rosa, as if they’d never divorced, and strolled away. Would he and Charlie be friends after their divorce? Aaron took his bride’s hand and raised his voice. “Let’s get this party rocking.” He nodded to the band and squeezed her hand. “May I have the pleasure of the first dance, Mrs. Brody?”

She hesitated. Would she actually turn him down?

“Come to me, beautiful lady.”

She came into his arms stiff and unsmiling, but into his arms all the same.

“Don’t overdo it,” she warned, before turning to grace the room with her plastic smile.

He led her onto the empty dance floor. The lights dimmed and it only took a second to recognize the band’s mellow rendition of “Strangers in the Night.” He had to laugh at the appropriateness. Had Charlotte picked it? More than likely Johnny or Raul had put them up to it.

Their bodies meshed from chest to knee, but her steps remained stilted. “Relax, sweetheart.”

“Call me sweetheart one more time and I’ll go dance with Edward.”

“He’s talking to Percy.” He considered Perry Thurman. “Not going to dance with my competition tonight, are you?”

“He was never anyone’s competition. And besides, who I’m interested in isn’t your concern.”

Aaron slowed the steps to a sway and placed his hand on her hip, moving her with him. Other couples joined them on the dance floor and he held Charlie close. He could act the part of the adoring groom as well as the next guy. “Trust me. You show interest in anyone except me during this marriage, I’ll make it my business. Making a fool of me wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“Oh, and you’re going to stay celibate for the next six months?” Her eyebrows drew together and she eased out of his arms. “We should mingle with our guests.” She grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and left him alone in the center of dancing couples.

Charlie gulped down the gold liquid as Perry moved in her direction. He touched her shoulder and without hesitation, she set her glass down and moved into the slime-bag’s arms.

Aaron willed his fist to unclench.

He hadn’t counted on Thurman breathing down their necks. He narrowed his eyes as Thurman’s hand snaked up Charlie’s side and his thumb rubbed the underside of her breast. Before Aaron could react, she took Don Juan’s hand and placed it back on her waist. Okay, he couldn’t very well stop her from dancing with the snake, but he didn’t have to stand here and watch.

The last brilliant shades of sunset were fading from the sky when Aaron stepped outside. One smoke and a couple minutes to get his head straight, then he’d go back in and decide whether to deck Thurman or drag his bride out of his clutches. He lit a cigarette and leaned against the building. What had possessed him to agree to this?

As he took a drag and watched a kid on the beach feeding a flock of seagulls, he caught a glimpse of someone stepping onto the deck. He remained in the shadows and watched old man Harrington stop and take a couple of deep breaths. Edward pressed a hand to his chest, leaned against the rail, and dug something out of his pocket. The man looked pale as he tilted his head back and placed a pill in his mouth.

Should he ask if Harrington needed help or would that embarrass him? He waited until the older man was breathing easier before stepping out of the shadows. “Nice evening.”

Harrington straightened and glanced casually over the ocean as if he hadn’t just been clutching his chest. “Why aren’t you inside with your bride?”

Holding up his cigarette, Aaron shrugged. “Just needed fresh air and a quick smoke.”

“How do you exist in this humidity?”

A fine sheen of sweat covered the guy’s ashen face. Taking another drag, Aaron snubbed his cigarette out in a concrete ashtray. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“Something cold does sound good.”

“Thought I’d try the punch.” He stood back and allowed Edward to precede him inside. “Somebody has to drink it.”

Aaron handed Harrington a glass of pink punch and spotted Charlie standing beside a leafy palm. Before he could make his way across the room, Thurman appeared at her side, removed the glass from her hand, and guided her onto the dance floor. That made twice.

As Perry slid his arm around her waist, Charlotte noticed Aaron standing beside a table of caviar. She tried to focus on her dance partner and ignore the threatening glower on her husband’s face.

Aaron Brody was legally her husband. She missed a step at the realization. Was he serious about demanding fidelity? Was he planning to “cleave only unto her”? Right! And the colorful tropical sun would set in the east tomorrow.

She couldn’t complain about Perry’s dancing, but the hand slithering down her back was another matter. He gently squeezed her hip. “You look wonderful tonight.”

She grabbed his hand and guided it back to her waist, grinding her heel into his foot. “Don’t start this.”

He moved his foot back. “I’ve never loved another woman like I love you. I always thought…” Perry’s breath stirred her hair and his tone sounded wistful, but all she felt was disgust.

Why the sudden interest after six years? Perry didn’t do anything without a self-serving motive.

Edward tapped Perry’s shoulder and she gratefully moved into her grandfather’s arms.

Edward scrutinized her face, as if her debauchery was tattooed on her forehead. “Are you happy?”

Smiling took a concerted effort. “Of course.”

He patted her back. “You look a bit nervous.”

“You know me. I worry about everything. As fast as we threw this together, I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

“Everything you do is done to perfection.”

Tears stung her eyes, and that made twice today. Her grandparents had taken care of her most of her life. Even before her parents died, she and Don had lived with them. Her mother and father had always been jetting off to a party at some villa or mountain resort.

He pressed her face against his shoulder. “Promise that if that groom of yours hurts you in any way, you’ll let me know.”

“Aaron would never hurt me.” If he did, she wouldn’t need Edward’s help. She’d kill him herself.

“Well, I’ll have to take your word for that. I just hope you know more about him than the size of his…”

“Edward!”

He spun her around. “I wasn’t born yesterday, my dear.”

Charlotte tried to relax and enjoy the reception, but every time she looked up, Aaron was whisking some other woman around the dance floor. He had all the right moves. Probably from all those bars he frequented. When he wasn’t dancing, he was drinking with his buddies.

She turned and found Perry at the other end of the table watching her watch Aaron. He sidled up to Edward and she shuddered at what he was undoubtedly whispering in the older man’s ear.

If she and Aaron intended to fool anyone, they needed to appear to enjoy each other’s company.

She gritted her teeth and pushed through the crowd of men gathered around her husband. “Hi, darling. Come dance with me.” She grinned at the group of laughing, half-drunk males. “Sorry, fellows, but I’m stealing my groom.”

Aaron’s arm slid around her waist as if it was the most natural position in the world, holding her close as he delivered the punch line of the joke he’d been telling. His hand dropped lower to caress her backside.

Resisting the urge to yank his hand away, she put her arm around his waist and tugged him away from his rowdy friends.

She placed her other arm around his neck, leaned close, and waltzed him onto the dance floor. “You aren’t very convincing as the adoring groom.”

Aaron rubbed his nose against hers and spoke into her mouth. “Then try this. Stay away from Percy or you’ll find out how well I play the role of jealous husband.”

“You have the nerve to worry about Percy? I mean Perry. You’ve danced with every woman in the room.”

“If you were dancing with different men, I wouldn’t mind. But how does it look that you’ve danced with Percy three times?”

He was counting? “And I’ll dance with him again, if I want.”

Aaron spun her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Go ahead. I’m not too high-class to make a scene. You’re mine, sweetheart. At least for the next few months.”

Her temper wanted to fight, but her common sense warned her not to argue in front of the guests. “I don’t belong to you or anybody else.” Backing away, she tugged him toward the table where the wedding cake waited. “Shall we cut the cake, darling?”

The photographer snapped pictures as Aaron placed his hand over hers on the knife and they cut the first slice out of the towering white-and-pink creation. She smelled the alcohol on his breath, but at least he didn’t mush the cake in her face.

Her relief was short-lived however, when to everyone’s delight, he licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth. Her face heated as the room erupted into applause.

Then guests toasted them to everything from good luck to advice on how to maintain a long and fruitful marriage. She tried to keep from spitting champagne when the inebriated ship’s captain toasted to a wild and passionate wedding bed.

Aaron didn’t seem to mind the fellow’s bad taste. He held up his glass and downed the contents. Every time she’d looked at him tonight, he’d been drinking.

Rosa set her glass down and handed Charlotte the bouquet. “Time to offer us single women a chance.”

That sounded painless enough. She smiled, took the bridal bouquet, and waited for the women to gather. Rosa stood in the center, flanked by a couple other women who worked at the resort and a stunning Caribbean beauty. Even Zelda, Charlotte’s latest assistant, joined in. Fifteen or more eager women battled for positions.

“Everybody ready?” she asked before turning her back. “Here goes.” She tossed the bouquet to the chorus of excited squeals. She turned to find the Caribbean beauty clutching the bouquet to her breast like a treasure, but it wasn’t her young escort who caught the girl’s eye. It was Aaron.

Charlotte frowned, but before she had a chance to dwell on that, one of the men shoved Aaron toward her. “Your turn, my friend. Guys get their shot at the garter.”

She gulped and shook her head. “I don’t think—”

Aaron knelt down on one knee and rubbed the back of her ankle, flashing a devilish grin. “Can’t disappoint the gentlemen, now can we, Charlie?”

His hand scorched through her stockings as he cupped the back of her knee. The other hand placed her foot on his bent leg. She held her breath and stared as he eased her skirt up her thigh and gently stroked upward in a reverent caress until he reached the lacy garter. Her skin burned as his fingers skimmed her inner thigh. She sucked air into her lungs.

Aaron slid the garter slowly down her thigh, over her knee, and along her calf while she watched, mesmerized. He stretched the garter over her shoe and caressed the back of her leg as he softly kissed her knee.

“Incredible legs,” he whispered, placing her foot back on the floor and glancing up into her face.

She diverted her eyes, refusing to react. Yet, her traitorous body responded too readily. Her stomach fluttered and she felt flushed and jittery. The imprint of his hands still seared her leg. Damn Aaron Brody!