Читать книгу Last Resort: Marriage - Pamela Stone - Страница 9

“I may have been a bit rash in judging your fiancé,” Edward admitted as he folded himself into the wing chair across from Charlotte’s desk.

Her fingers stilled over her keyboard. “You’re admitting you were wrong?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He held up one hand. “But I’m willing to give him a chance.”

She shut down the spreadsheet she’d been staring at. What had transpired between him and Aaron?

“Let’s face facts. To my knowledge, the only serious relationship you’ve ever had was with Perry. And look how you handled that.”

Nibbling her lip, she told herself he didn’t mean that quite how it sounded. He didn’t know the full story. But then, she’d never actually leveled with him about Perry for fear of confirming his belief that women let emotions cloud their judgment.

“Getting along with people is not your forte.”

A true enough fact, but it stung just the same. The man was a master at capitalizing on people’s vulnerabilities. “Not my forte? I learned everything I know from you.”

“Don’t get upset. I’m trying to protect you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “From what?”

“Yourself.” He exhaled. “Now, you can marry your scuba diver—”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“No, you don’t.” Edward steepled his fingers. “But if you want this resort, you’ll listen to my proposal.”

She clenched her fists in her lap. As usual, everything had to be by Edward’s rules.

“Aaron passed the first test, but I’m far from convinced that romance is his driving force. Still, I’m willing to give the marriage a chance. If, after say six months, I’m satisfied as to Mr. Brody’s motives, I’ll sign the Marathon resort over to you, like I promised. At least you’ll have a means to support yourself.”

Aaron had been right. He was her best shot at ever owning the hotel. But could she marry and pretend to be in love for six months? Could Aaron? It shouldn’t be too difficult. They only had to put up a front when Edward was around, and he had twelve resorts demanding his time.

Edward cleared his throat. “Perry has agreed to stay on as your assistant manager. He’ll report directly to me.”

Her entire body tensed in outrage. She should have known he’d have a trump up his sleeve. “I don’t need Perry.”

“Take it or leave it.” He folded his arms. “I have to look out for you and protect my business.”

She bolted to her feet. “But I’ve been running this resort alone for almost five years.”

“I’m not sure you’re thinking with your brain at the moment,” he said. “Of course, Aaron will sign a prenuptial.”

“He already offered. I told him it wasn’t necessary.” If she was going to bluff, might as well pull out all the stops.

He looked at her as if she were some poor lovesick fool. “Oh, Charlotte!”

“I’m not as naive about men as you think. I know my fiancé.” She could handle Aaron Brody. On the other hand, she thought, remembering the kiss, maybe she was a poor lovesick fool.

CHARLOTTE STEPPED ON BOARD Aaron’s boat, half hoping he wasn’t there. Could she pull this off?

Easy to see why he needed the money. The Free Wind was a dilapidated fiberglass boat in desperate need of a face-lift. The hull had probably been white at one time, but had taken on more of a dirty yellow hue. The wood deck was warped.

She’d about decided the boat was deserted when she caught sight of him sitting behind a desk in a miniscule office.

The afternoon sun barely filtered through the salt-crusted window. He stood as she stepped through the door into the cramped, paneled office. “What did I do to rate two Harringtons in one day?”

She choked down her pride. “We’ll have to draw up a prenuptial agreement.”

Aaron frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But ten thousand is my final offer.” She adopted her don’t-mess-with-me, business tone.

“Lady, I’ve been insulted enough for one afternoon. Take your money and do your husband shopping somewhere else.”

Humiliation burned through her. She couldn’t even buy a husband. Did he want her to beg? She shouldered her purse and turned to go.

But go where? Back to Edward and admit Aaron didn’t want to marry her?

She straightened her shoulders and faced him. “You were right. You’re my only viable option.”

He leaned over, flattened his palms on his desk, and focused his sea-green eyes on her. “A hundred thousand, which I know you can get your hands on, deposited in an account in my name and I’ll sign a prenup that says I walk away with my business and the money in my accounts.” His jaw stiffened. “If it doesn’t specify what I do get, I don’t sign.”

Charlotte let out her breath. She never thought she’d negotiate a marriage like a business contract. Who said she didn’t know how to manage relationships?

“Let’s make sure we understand each other. This is business.” She leaned into his face. “We get married and Edward returns to Boston. In six months, providing we can convince him that a) we’re blissfully in love and b) you’re trustworthy, he’ll sign the resort over to me. At that point, we file for divorce. And—” she paused for effect “—I have no intention of sharing your bed as part of the arrangement.”

That announcement slowed him down a pace or two.

“And it won’t kill you to take a couple months off from your playboy lifestyle.”

“Playboy?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Just because I’m no damn monk? Don’t tell me, you’re saving yourself for marriage. Oh, wait, you don’t want sex then, either.”

Sarcasm dripped from his words. Okay, so sexuality wasn’t her strong point, but still.

Aaron studied the top of his desk and took out his cigarettes. After a glance at her, he shoved the pack back in his pocket. “I’m not thrilled with sharing your bed, either, sweetheart, but you know as well as I do the old man won’t believe this farce unless we share accommodations.” He flashed a wicked grin. “Your place or mine, Charlie?”

The image of lying naked with this green-eyed macho maniac made her stop. She wasn’t the quivering, breathless type and getting naked didn’t figure into this.

He flashed another charming smile, and extended his hand. “Let me see your phone.”

The man didn’t even have a cell phone? She opened her purse and handed him the slim, silver device.

His grin was pure devilish amusement as he punched in a number. “And a good day to you, Sara. Is Johnny around?”

“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes.

He smoothed his knuckles slowly down her cheek. “I’m taking care of the church and the preacher for tomorrow, Charlie. Think you can handle the rest?”

AARON RAISED HIS SHOT GLASS and clinked it against Johnny’s. “To a hundred grand,” he repeated Johnny’s toast and then chugged down the whiskey.

Raul Mendez, bartender and owner of the little waterfront, open-air dive, The Green Gecko, shook his head and scowled. “You really gonna go through with this?”

With three ex-wives, Raul looked a little sick at the thought.

“And she’s not even going to sleep with you?” Raul sloshed more whiskey into his glass and guzzled the contents in one swig.

“That pretty much sums it up.” Aaron grimaced, removed the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and stabbed it into an ashtray. “The sacrifices a man will make for his business.” He reached across the polished wood bar, grabbed the bottle, and poured himself another shot. “By this time tomorrow night, I’ll be a married man.” He tossed back the golden glass of courage. “Sexless marriage and money to fix my boat. What more could a guy ask for?”

Johnny shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You’ve finally met a woman you don’t want to bed and she’s the one you’ve decided to marry?”

“You make me sound like some gigolo, for God’s sake. The name of the game is money, and Charlotte Harrington has the money I need.”

“You don’t see anything wrong with marrying for money?” Raul asked.

“Women have been doing it for centuries. This is the new age. Equal rights and all that.” Aaron stared at the bartender. “Need I remind you why Rosa left your ass?”

Raul rubbed one hand across his forehead. “Money.”

“The root of all relationships, one way or another.”

“Make sure your lawyer looks over that prenup before you sign it,” Johnny advised. “From what I hear, Charlotte Harrington’s a cold-blooded businesswoman. You know the type. All work and no play.”

“Well, then maybe she won’t bother me too much during this circus.”

“Sí, she runs a tight ship, but Rosa says she’s a good boss,” Raul chimed in. “She says Senorita Harrington pays more than the other resorts and has good benefits.” He grabbed a towel from behind the bar and wiped down the polished surface. “Rosa thinks Senorita Harrington is lonely.” His eyes widened and he halted in midswipe. “Dios! Maybe she will enjoy having a man around and won’t give you a divorce!”

“I don’t have to worry about that.” Aaron chuckled. “I’m not Miss Haughty Harrington’s type. She’s champagne and caviar. I’m pretty much beer and pretzels.”

“I can picture you now bouncing a son on one knee and coddling a wee little daughter on the other,” Johnny said.

Aaron winced. “You got the wrong guy. I have no intention of contributing my defective gene pool to any urchins. For now, I plan to fix the Free Wind and concentrate on building the most successful charter business in the Keys, courtesy of the Ice Queen.” He raised his glass. “To weddings, my friends.”

“To weddings,” Johnny echoed.

Raul looked like he’d swallowed a rotten egg. “You gonna get frostbite.”

Aaron paid his tab and made his way back to his boat on foot. The smoky little bar wasn’t far from the slip where he docked the Free Wind and he needed some fresh air. Who was he kidding? He’d never even owned a car.

The night was balmy for early March, but a cool salty breeze rustled through the palm trees and fanned the hair off his neck.

God, he loved the Keys. Unspoiled by overdevelopment, far from Miami, a few exclusive resorts. Dressing for dinner meant putting on a shirt with buttons. He was his own boss. Nobody riding his case. Between the charter business and scuba instructing, he got by okay. At least he had until the past few months when his twenty-year-old engine had decided to play out. He could only wire it together for so long.

If Charlotte Harrington hadn’t been so desperate, the business would’ve been history. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The kicker was he didn’t know how to do anything else.

Aaron stooped and picked up a small conch shell. He’d never thought of Charlie sexually. The lady was a workaholic. That hotel of hers ran as smooth as a perfectly tuned pair of twin turbos, but she didn’t seem to relax. He’d never heard anybody mention dating her or running into her at a club. Besides, her family owned a whole damn chain of hotels. She was so far above his reach the air she breathed was in a separate hemisphere.

He reared back his arm and lobbed the shell into the rolling Atlantic. The scorching summer afternoon he’d first met Ms. Harrington, she’d been wearing a navy suit with a silk blouse buttoned up to her chin. She’d stood out like a virgin in a whorehouse on the sweltering dock surrounded by people in shorts or swimsuits. How did she breathe in this tropical heat? But in three years, he’d never seen her look anything but calm, cool and collected.

Until this morning.

Grinding out his cigarette with his sneaker, he grinned. Charlie had squirmed when he’d put his hands on her today, as if his touch would soil her impeccable silk suit. Yet, her warm response to his kiss had been pretty damn willing.

What would cool, calm, collected Charlotte be like if she let her hair down? He’d never seen her thick dishwater-blond hair flowing free, not once. She always wore it twisted up in some French knot, or French braid, or French something. Man, her hair. It had to be long, and…

What was he thinking? He’d had too much to drink—and not near enough sex in the past few months.

Stepping across the gangplank onto the Free Wind, he climbed down the companionway to his cramped cuddy below deck and punched the switch on the radio.

He wasn’t going to miss sleeping on this bucket of bolts. A soft bed instead of a lumpy berth, a real bathroom instead of a closet he had to back into just to sit on the head, and best of all, funds to fix the Free Wind.

The reality started to sink in.

Flopping down on the berth, he listened to the ropes clanging against the mast of the sailboat in the next slip and tried to forget that this time tomorrow he’d be married. He linked his fingers behind his neck. But all he could picture was Charlie, sprawled across satin sheets, those long legs wrapped around him.

Had he lost his ever-loving mind?

AARON FROWNED AT EDWARD Harrington’s reflection in the department store mirror. The man had glued himself to his coattail like lint.

“A white tux?” Aaron shook his head, slipped out of the jacket, and tossed it back to the clerk. “Black.”

The clerk scurried off and old man Harrington shrugged. “Black is fine, if that’s what makes you comfortable. Do you love my granddaughter?”

Forcing himself not to react, he focused on his reflection, combing his fingers through his freshly trimmed hair. “Look, Mr. Harrington. We rushed the wedding up so you could be here, but other than that, stay out of our business.”

“My friends call me Edward.”

“So does your granddaughter,” Aaron commented.

“Yes, she does.” Harrington tilted his head. “Charlotte’s a smart woman. But, she needs a man who’ll help her slow down and enjoy life.”

“And you think Thurman would’ve done that?” Aaron scoffed in disbelief.

“Women need a family, a husband and children to love. A man to take care of them.”

“Charlie can take care of herself.” Aaron slipped into the elegant black jacket the clerk held up.

The last time he’d seen her, however, she’d been standing in the center of a horde of caterers and florists and looking as flustered as any real bride. Aaron grinned.

“Black suits you.” Harrington straightened Aaron’s jacket collar then selected a black bow tie from the two the clerk held out. “Pleated shirt and cuff links.”

Why argue? He figured the guy had forgotten more about fashion than Aaron had ever known. He could be a model for some upper-crust magazine like Senior GQ. A poor-as-dirt kid on the streets of Miami, Aaron had been lucky to have secondhand jeans.

Harrington held the tie up to Aaron’s white T-shirt then dropped his hand and pierced him with a menacing glare. “You do anything to hurt my granddaughter and I’ll ruin you. You’ll wish you’d never heard the name Harrington. You understand me?”

Aaron looked into his steel-gray eyes. How would he react when, instead of producing a baby in nine months, they produced divorce papers? “I’ll do everything in my power to make Charlie’s dreams come true.”

The man seemed to weigh his words. “I don’t trust you. Something isn’t on the level, but if you’re the man Charlotte loves, I won’t argue. Just keep in mind, I’ll be watching every move you make.”

He held his stare. “Yes, sir.”

“And as the new assistant manager, Perry will be here to keep an eye on the business.”

Aaron buttoned and then unbuttoned the jacket. No doubt, Perry was here to watch more than the business. The last thing they needed was Thurman snooping around.

He remained patient while they measured the tux for alterations. Before he could pay for the evening wear, Harrington handed the clerk a platinum card. Aaron started to object, but changed his mind. This whole charade was for the old man’s benefit, anyway. Why shouldn’t he shoulder the expense? Any man who’d force his own granddaughter to get married just to spawn an heir deserved whatever he got.

The clerk assured them the tux would be at the boat in forty-five minutes, altered, pressed and ready to go.

Aaron never failed to be amazed at the power of the almighty buck. “Great, I’ll have fifteen minutes to dress and get to my wedding. Nothing like cutting things to the last minute.”

“Do you have honeymoon plans?”

A pretend honeymoon wasn’t part of the bargain. He had to get his boat running in two weeks or he’d have to cancel the tours he had booked for Spring Break. “Maybe we’ll take a trip in the fall.”

“A good marriage deserves a good start. A couple days shouldn’t bankrupt either of you. Charlotte looks exhausted. Take time to relax and enjoy each other.”

The old geezer actually seemed excited about the prospect of Charlie getting laid. Did he think he could control their sex life, too? “Don’t you have other children or grandchildren to worry about?”

Harrington huffed. “My only son—the self-centered playboy—married a starlet with a brain the size of a pea. Two of a kind. They were killed nine years ago in the Alps when they ran their snowmobile off a cliff.”

“Charlie’s parents?” Aaron winced at Harrington’s nod, picturing how devastated self-reliant Charlotte probably was by the loss of her parents. “She must have been what, nineteen or twenty?”

“You two don’t talk much, do you?” Harrington asked.

“Hasn’t exactly been high on the priority list.”

The old man pursed his lips. “Don, Charlotte’s older brother, was in California at the time, studying acting. Like his mother in more ways than I care to discuss.” Edward took a breath. “And then there’s Charlotte.”

“And then there’s Charlotte,” Aaron repeated. “There is Charlotte.”