Читать книгу His Chosen Wife: Antonides' Forbidden Wife / The Ruthless Italian's Inexperienced Wife / The Millionaire's Chosen Bride - Susanne James, Anne McAllister - Страница 9

PJ APPEARED in the doorway behind her. “I told you—”

But the woman cut him off. “As if you ever told me the truth.” She dismissed him with a briskness that made Ally blink. Then the other woman’s hard level gaze swiveled back again to zero in on her. “So,” she said, “you’re PJ’s wife?”

The wealth of doubt and the hard edge of challenge in her voice brought Ally to her feet. They also made her do the one thing she never expected to do.

“Yes,” she said, “I am.” And she met the woman’s gaze with a frank, firm stare of her own. “And who are you?”

Because if this short-haired brunette with her chiseled cheekbones, scarlet lips and tough-girl attitude was one of the women in PJ’s life, Ally knew one thing for sure: she was obviously going to have to rescue him from this female’s possessive talons before she moved on.

The woman blinked, as if surprised by the question, then drew herself up straight. “I? I’m Cristina.”

“My sister, God help me,” PJ put in.

“And me,” Cristina retorted.

Before Ally could do more than gape, another voice said dryly, “God should really have had mercy on their mother.” And a thirtyish man carrying a preschool-aged boy followed PJ and his sister into the room. “Imagine having those two as twins.”

Twins?

But even as she heard the word, Ally remembered PJ once remarking that he had a twin. She’d envisioned a cookie-cutter PJ. A less likely looking twin than Cristina was hard to imagine.

PJ’s sister was as short as he was tall. Her eyes were brown; his were green. Admittedly they had the same dark hair. But that was the only similarity Ally could see.

“I’m Mark, Cris’s husband.” The man holding the child offered his hand to Ally with the easy acceptance that his wife completely lacked. “And this is Alex.” He jiggled the little boy in his arms. “And your name is …?”

“Ally.” Ally shook his hand, smiled at him, winked at Alex who hid his face in his father’s shoulder, then peeked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. He did resemble his uncle, and she had a fleeting sense of what PJ must have looked like as a little boy. Too cute for his own good. She shoved the thought away. “Alice Maruyama … Antonides.”

PJ’s sister snorted at that. “Where’d you come from?”

“Play nice, Cristina,” PJ said gruffly, stepping between them. “Ally came from Hawaii.” He gave his sister a hard look that shut her mouth long enough for him to add, “How about some wine? Beer? You’re just in time for dessert. We’ve got pineapple.”

“Don’t change the subject, PJ.” Cristina was still eyeing Ally like an eagle sizing up its prey. “If she’s your wife—”

“She is my wife.”

“Then I want to know all about her. We didn’t believe him when he said he was married,” she told Ally as if he weren’t standing right there. “We thought he was just trying to avoid all the women Ma and Pa were trying to shove down his throat.”

“Cristina—” PJ said sharply.

“I’ll take a beer,” Mark cut in. “Sit down,” he said to his wife while PJ went to the refrigerator to get one. “You’re making Ally nervous.”

“Good,” Cristina said frankly. “If she doesn’t have anything to hide she’ll be fine.”

“What could she have to hide?” Mark looked intrigued.

“Who knows? Where’s she been. What’s she been doing. Why she’s here now.” Cristina ticked off plenty of possibilities. All the while studying Ally as if she had her under a microscope. “Maybe she’s after his money.”

“Well, she certainly isn’t after his well-behaved relatives,” Mark grinned. “Cristina can be a little, um, protective.”

“She thinks I can’t fight my own battles,” PJ said dryly, coming back to hand his brother-in-law a beer.

“Because I’m older than you,” Cristina said loftily.

PJ rolled his eyes. “Four minutes.”

“And I’m married—”

“So am I—”

“Which, amazingly, seems to be true. At least, you seem to have produced a wife.”

“I didn’t produce her. I married her.”

“But you don’t live with her, either. I, on the other hand, live with my spouse. Always have. And I have a child. So I have a wealth of domestic experience you don’t have,” she said to her brother with a smug grin. “And I’m looking out for your best interests. So go out in the garden and talk to Mark about his trip. Or baseball. Or boats. And let me do my sisterly duty. Go!” she said again when neither man moved.

Mark looked at PJ. “Your fault.”

“I didn’t invite her over,” PJ protested.

“As if you could have kept her away once she found out Ally was here.” Mark laughed and shook his head. “You know what Cristina is like when she’s got the bit between her teeth. Might as well let her get on with it.”

How had they found out she was here? Ally wondered. But she didn’t ask. She just turned to PJ and said stoutly, “Go on. I’m perfectly happy to talk to your sister. I don’t need you.”

PJ’s brows lifted. But Ally met his gaze squarely. And after a long moment he turned to face his sister.

“Do not alienate my wife,” he instructed.

Cristina looked indignant. “As if I would!”

“You would,” he said with conviction, “if you thought it was a good idea. I’m telling you it’s not.”

Brother and sister stared at each other. It was like watching mortal combat—death by eye contact.

Clearly his sister brought out a side of PJ that Ally had never seen before. He didn’t look particularly upset to have his sister here, but he still looked a little wary—as if he didn’t entirely trust her.

Ally wasn’t wary or worried. She found herself almost eager to confront PJ’s sister. Once she understood who the other woman was, the tension inside her eased. This was no floozy she had to warn off. No woman trying to worm her way into PJ’s life.

Warn off? Ally jerked herself up short. What was she thinking? She had no interest in PJ’s love life! She was only a wife on paper. His women were nothing to do with her.

Besides, it looked as if Cristina was determined to vet any woman who crossed his path. Ally smiled at the thought, feeling instantly calmer and far more in control.

Also she was curious.

She hadn’t expected PJ to tell his family anything about their marriage. Yet apparently he had. So, what had he told them? And when? And why?

She also found herself intrigued by Cristina.

She’d never met any of PJ’s family. He had talked about them occasionally. She knew he had grown up in the middle of a boisterous, noisy, demanding Greek-American family.

“I was never alone,” he said. “Ever. God, I even had to share the womb. I never had silence. Cristina never shut up. I always had to share a room with my brothers. I never had space.”

Ally, who had had far too much loneliness, silence and space in her life, frankly thought PJ’s childhood sounded appealing. She’d asked questions, but except for a few comments, whenever he had talked about them it had been mostly about how glad he was they were practically on the other side of the world.

Now, face-to-face with the woman he’d “shared a womb with,” Ally couldn’t pretend indifference.

Neither apparently could Cristina. The men had barely gone out through the door and slid it shut behind them when PJ’s sister sat down at the table opposite Ally and jumped straight in.

If Cristina had ever heard of circumspection or tact, she’d determinedly forgotten everything she’d ever heard. She wanted to know where PJ and Ally had met, when they’d married. And why?

“I wouldn’t ask why,” she said bluntly, “because ordinarily it would be obvious. You’re gorgeous and PJ has always had an eye for a gorgeous woman. But if it were for that reason, he wouldn’t have let you walk out of his life again. So … why?”

She regarded Ally intently, and in the face of Cristina’s clear concern, Ally found herself answering.

She’d never told anyone else. Besides her father and, recently, Jon, she’d never told a soul she was married.

But this was PJ’s sister. Ally didn’t have siblings. She had never experienced the bonds that could exist between them. But it was clearly there—and just as much in PJ’s words to Cristina as in her attempted defense of him. It bespoke a loyalty and love she could only envy.

And in response, she couldn’t deny the kindness he’d done her. Nor could she minimize it or pretend it had been some frivolous or foolish thing they had done.

And so she began to talk.

She spoke haltingly at first about her father’s demands on her—about what she should take in university, about what job she would hold when she finished, about the man he expected her to marry. It sounded medieval and melodramatic to her ears as she told it, and she fully expected Cristina would roll her eyes.

Instead the other woman listened raptly and nodded more and more vigorously.

“Fathers!” she muttered, eyes flashing in indignation. “Mine is just as bad. They always think they know what’s best. And they can be so clueless!”

But her indignation vanished and she beamed gleefully when Ally told her about her grandmother’s legacy and how she could use it to avoid having to fall in with her father’s demands.

“I couldn’t be the person he wanted me to be. I needed to be me. To get away and find out who I was. But I couldn’t get away without the legacy. And I couldn’t have the legacy without being married—”

“So PJ married you!” Cristina clapped her hands together delightedly, her eyes were alight with satisfaction. And all her original skepticism and animosity toward Ally seemed to evaporate.

“That is such a great story.” She cheered Ally’s determination—and her brother’s part in it. “I should have known he wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

She didn’t even blame Ally for “using” him to get what she needed.

“Blame you?” she’d said, affronted, when Ally suggested it. “Of course not! What else could you have done?”

Ally shook her head, surprised at Cristina’s approbation.

“So what did you do? Where did you go?” PJ’s sister asked.

And Ally told her that as well. And in telling her the truth about how she had used PJ to get her legacy, to get her education, to travel and learn and work and become the person she’d become, far from putting Cristina off, actually brought her around to Ally’s side.

“I think it’s absolutely marvelous. What a hero!” And for an instant Ally thought Cristina might jump up and go outside and throw her arms around her brother. Instead she just shook her head and aimed a smile and a fond glance his way.

Ally, following her gaze, knew that what Cristina said was true. “He was, actually,” she admitted quietly as much to herself as to his sister.

“And of course you couldn’t stay. You had to leave,” Cristina went on, telling the story herself now, and believing every word she said. “To find yourself. And PJ was probably distraught, but knew he had to let you go.”

“I don’t think he was distraught,” Ally said.

“Of course he was. How could he not be? You’re everything he’d want in a woman.” Cristina looked her over with frank admiration. “He’s not blind.”

Ally felt her cheeks warm. “It wasn’t quite like that. Besides, he wasn’t ready to be married then. Not really married.”

“You mean, adult and responsible and all? Yes, I can see that.” Cristina’s tone grew thoughtful, as if she were remembering, too, what he’d been like ten years ago. “He was a kid. I remember what he was like when he left—moody, distant, could hardly wait to be on his own. Independent to a fault. Yes, he would have needed time and space to find himself, too. But now—” Cristina’s voice brightened visibly “—he has. You both have.”

“Yes.” Ally nodded, glad PJ’s sister understood. Now she could explain about why she’d come, why it was time for them to go their separate ways.

“And so you’ve come back to him.” Cristina sighed in pure appreciation. She smiled broadly. “That is soooo romantic. Who’d ever think PJ would be romantic?”

“He’s not!” Ally blurted, and this time, at least, she managed to get the words out before Cristina could cut her off.

Cristina looked startled at her vehemence. But then she laughed and gestured toward the living room. “Maybe not. But if he’s not a romantic, why did he have Martha paint that mural?”

Ally stared, uncomprehending.

Cristina shook her head. “We didn’t understand what he was up to. But it makes sense now.” She glanced back toward the living room and its resident mural. “Trust me, under all that cool, PJ’s a romantic. And so are you.”

There was only one time in her life Ally thought she’d behaved romantically—and that had been the night she’d spent in PJ’s arms.

Before and after, she’d been a realist. She’d done what she needed to do. She was still doing it. She was being a realist now, asking for the divorce, not asking for the impossible.

She was being a realist in choosing to marry Jon, who wanted the same things she did, who felt about her the way she felt about him. She was, she realized, the daughter her father had wanted her to be, after all.

“I’m not a romantic, either,” she told Cristina.

But PJ’s sister disagreed. Her eyes widened. Her hands fluttered. “Just turning up on his doorstep isn’t romantic?” She laughed and shook her head. “It’s the most romantic thing I can imagine.”

“I didn’t mean—”

But Cristina leaned toward Ally across the table and lowered her voice, as if the men outside might be able to overhear. “I know. You don’t want to scare him to death. Men can be panicky that way. But, honestly, you picked the perfect time. No matter what he thinks. PJ is ready to be married now. He’s settled. Centered. And he dotes on the kids. You should see him with the nephews.”

In fact Ally could see PJ with Alex right now.

Other than when he’d tossed a ball or a Frisbee to a kid on the beach, it was the first time she’d seen him interacting with a child. She’d imagined he might be awkward. Lots of men were.

For that matter, she was. She’d simply had no experience with them. But PJ had apparently had plenty. Or dealing with them came naturally to him.

Ally had expected to see Alex cling to his father and duck his head when PJ talked to him, just as the little boy had with her. But the minute they’d gone outside, Alex had flung himself into his uncle’s arms. And PJ had accepted him willingly, flipping him up and over his shoulders, then whipping him around his side and tossing the boy into the air.

Ally had watched in almost horrified amazement. But PJ seemed perfectly comfortable, and Alex, shrieking with laughter, clearly loved it.

After that PJ had hung Alex upside down, let the boy climb his legs like a logger going up a ponderosa pine, then somersault to the ground. He was like a human climbing frame and Alex was having the time of his life. Even when they stopped, Alex remained sitting on his shoulders while PJ stood there, listening to Mark.

“PJ will be a great dad.” Cristina stated the obvious. “Are you going to have kids soon?”

Ally colored fiercely. “No! I mean—we’re not …!”

“Sorry,” Cristina said quickly. “That really is none of my business. It’s enough that you’re back. Whatever happens, happens, right?”

“Y-yes,” Ally managed. She needed to say it—to tell this woman why she’d really come. But somehow the words wouldn’t form. Because they shouldn’t come from her, Ally told herself. They should come from PJ. He was the one who had told his sister he was married. He needed to be the one to tell her they were getting a divorce.

And when he had kids someday—when he was some child’s wonderful father—that child would not be hers. And if the thought caused pain, Ally didn’t let herself think about it.

“Mom and Dad will be so pleased,” Cristina went on. “Mom can hardly wait to meet you.”

“What?” Ally’s brain jerked back to the moment. “Oh, no!”

Cristina made a face. “You aren’t going to be able to keep her away. She was so excited to hear you’d finally turned up. She said she’d always believed PJ—about being married. Dad thought he was stonewalling. Dad thought he might have even faked the marriage certificate. But Ma said no. So did Yiayia—our grandmother. Yiayia said he wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”

He’d told them all? He actually showed them their marriage certificate? Ally’s brain spun.

Cristina didn’t notice. She shook her head. “She was right. Mother’s intuition, you think? Before I had Alex, I’d have laughed at that. Now sometimes I think I know what he’ll do before he does it. So she may be right.”

“No, she’s not right!”

At Ally’s outburst, Cristina’s eyes fastened on her. “What do you mean? You said you were married.”

“We are.” She chewed on her lip briefly, torn. What could she say? Talk about opening a can of worms. “For the moment,” she said at last.

Cristina’s gaze snapped up and she frowned. Then her expression lightened. “Oh, are you worried that you might not suit now, after all this time? Don’t be. You’re soul mates, it will work out.”

Ally opened her mouth to deny it, but again the words wouldn’t come out. And she couldn’t tell Cristina about coming here to get him to sign divorce papers. If he’d kept their marriage a secret, it wouldn’t really have mattered. Everyone would know he didn’t care. But he’d told them he was married to her.

Word of the divorce would have to be his to tell.

Cristina patted her hand. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. The only one who’s going to be upset is Dad.”

“What does your father have to do with it?” Just what she needed. One more person’s opinion to matter.

“Oh, he’s a ‘never say die’ sort. He’s still trying to hook PJ up with Connie Cristopolous. Her whole family is coming from Greece this weekend. It’s a huge affair. Sort of a family reunion for us, too. Complete with fatted calf or, in this case, sacrificial lamb. At least, it was. That was going to be PJ.” Cristina laughed. “But not now, obviously. With a wife in tow, he won’t have to worry.”

“But I’m not—”

“Poor Dad,” Cristina said with relish. “Well, it serves him right. He should have believed.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It might be a little awkward at first, but he’ll be thrilled to have a son married off and no wedding to have to go to. Dad much prefers sailing and golf.”

Before Ally could even begin to think of how to respond to that, Mark opened the sliding door.

“Someone needs to go home to bed,” he said. Alex was back in his arms, head against his father’s shoulder, looking weepy and out of sorts.

“Yes. And we should let these two enjoy each other’s company.” Cristina smiled warmly at Ally and then at PJ who, seeing the smile, raised his brows quizzically.

Cristina stood up and went over to him, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I like your wife,” she said. “A lot.”

The vehemence of her declaration seemed to surprise him. But then he just looked bemused. “She checks out okay, then?”

Cristina swatted his arm. “You knew she would. You married her. You are such a dark horse.”

“Me?”

“Such a romantic. Riding in to save her like a knight on a charger.”

PJ reddened. “I never—”

“A knight? PJ?” Mark’s brows rose. He regarded his brother-in-law with wonder.

“A knight,” Cristina said firmly. “Who’d a thunk it? Come on. Let’s go home.” She linked her arm in Mark’s. “And I’ll tell you all about it.”

At the door, she turned back and looked at Ally. “I want to hear more about your art. And the clothes. They sound fantastic. We didn’t even get into that,” she said to her brother. “But we will. There’s plenty of time now.” She went out, then turned to back Ally. “You can fill me in on the weekend.”

“The weekend?” Ally stared.

“Oh, I know everyone else will want a piece of you, too. But we’re going to talk.”

“I’m not—”

“Are you going up Friday?” Cristina asked her brother.

“Yes.”

“No!” Ally blurted.

“We’re still discussing it,” PJ said smoothly.

Cristina laughed and patted his cheek. “Enjoy the discussion. And the making up after.” She winked. “We’ll be there Saturday. See you then.”

“Yes,” PJ said.

“No!” Ally said.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Cristina said happily. Then as PJ began to close the door, impulsively his sister darted back in to plant a quick kiss on Ally’s cheek.

Her eyes were shining and she squeezed Ally’s hand as she said, “I just want to say how happy I am for both of you. And … welcome to the family.”