Proposition (3 page)

“A wife,” he clarified, “I want a wife.”

He took his hand away from her face and shoved it into the pocket of his trousers.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He inclined his head. “You heard me.”

She stared at him for a moment, her lips slightly apart. “Yes, but...” her frown deepened, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps I should specify,” he paused. “I want
you
as my wife.”

She laughed shortly. “Is this some kind of joke?”

His expression went somber and he shook his head. Clearly, he wasn’t kidding.

“You really mean this, don’t you?” she wanted to reassure herself.

“Yes.”

“You’re mad.” She stood up, legs shaking, “That’s crazy. If you want a wife, you should start dating someone.”

“I’m busy.” He shrugged. “I don’t have time,” he informed her.

“Oh, I see. You don’t have time.” She laughed again. “And you thought that I...” She lifted her shoulders. “What? That I’ll be convenient for your plans?”

“You can put it like that, if you want to.” He didn’t move, just kept looking at her.

“We haven’t talked for years,” she said just to say something.

“Yes, that is correct.” He nodded again, his eyes like dark slits, narrowed at her. “We barely talked since you turned me down flat seven years ago, just because I didn’t have an Ivy League background. I was too poor and not fancy enough for you.”

“What? That’s not true!” she contradicted hotly.

He took a step closer and gazed at her intently. “You criticize your stepmother because in your opinion she caught a big fish, but you, yourself, are exactly the same. But no one like that has appeared so far, am I right?” He smiled cynically. “No one good enough for you.”

“How dare you to speak to me like that! If you think that I refused to go on a date with you because I thought you too poor or whatever, it’s your problem. It indicates your own insecurities as a man,” she cried out.

His expression changed into a scowl, but she ignored it.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she continued. “And my personal life is certainly not your business. If you want to know, I simply wasn’t interested in a relationship at the time when you asked me out. I was nineteen, for heaven’s sake! We had problems with Peter. Besides, I wanted to study, to see the world, meet new people, and not tie myself to one man so early. I dated only casually.”

“But not me it seems.” His expression hardened even more, his voice sharp. “You didn’t even let me take you to the movies. Did you think that I would press you for something you weren’t ready for back then? If that is so, you’re very wrong.”

“You may not believe it, but yes I did think that,” she said, her tone calmer now. “I was barely out of high school, and hadn’t been even kissed properly before. I didn’t have time for dates. There was school, running home for Dad, taking care of Peter. Besides, Dad always frightened all the boys away from me. And you,” she waved her hand at him, “You were older, and my father’s friend. I didn’t want to complicate everything. I wasn’t ready for anything permanent.”

During her speech, his expression softened. “Why didn’t you tell me this back then?” he asked softly.

Amy glared at him. “Because I was just a girl back then. Not the woman I am now. I wasn’t able to articulate my fears and feelings. Come on, I couldn’t just say to you, ok, I can go to the movies with you from time to time if you want, but I’m not ready for anything more than a kiss and holding hands.”

He took her hand and looked down straight into her eyes. “You could have said that, and I would’ve respected your decision.”

Amy stared at him, her mouth opening, and closing. “Look, that was seven years ago,” she said at last.

She was more than surprised with the raw bitterness of his reaction. “Do you have a tendency to ponder for such a long time on every girl who didn’t want to go to the movies with you? That’s ridiculous.”

He stepped to her, his eyes narrowed again. He was so close she could feel his breath on her temple.

“We both know why you refused me. I can believe that you didn’t feel ready for some things, but I know as well that you thought yourself to be too good for me. But now the situation has changed, hasn’t it?”

Amy straightened herself up. “Yes, the situation has changed as you graciously point out. From what I hear, you’re wealthy now, but that’s obviously the only attractive feature a woman can find in you, I’m afraid. And for your information a woman always has the simple right to refuse when a man asks her out,” she continued boldly. “I don’t see any reason to explain myself to you. I’ve told you too much already. You might want to make an appointment with a good therapist. Perhaps he will help you get rid of those little hang-ups concerning women you obviously have.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t see the reason to help your father,” he informed her calmly.

Amy picked up her bag and moved past him. She reached for the files on his desk.

“You know, when you worked for my father I always thought that you really respected and liked him,” she said in a tight voice. “I knew how highly dad thought of you and I considered you to be a decent person. It seems that he was wrong. One more disappointment he will have to deal with.”

She started walking past him, but he caught her arm with a gentle hand. “Reynolds has prepared it for me hasn’t he?” he pointed to a file.

He had his hand on her shoulder now and again she felt the same tingling sensation as before when he held her hand in his. She gave him the file and began walking again, but he stopped her one more time.

“You haven’t given me an answer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “How can you expect me to give you an answer to this nonsensical and absurd offer?”

His hand clenched gently on her shoulder and he murmured. “You should watch your tongue.”

Amy backed away from him, brushing his hand off her.

“Yes, perhaps I should, but I really cannot imagine how this, let’s name it, arrangement between us could ever work. You expect me to what? To marry you, a complete stranger, and what next? Perhaps you think I’ll live with you, clean and cook for you, oh and of course, sleep with you, and have your children on top of that. And you in return will ensure that my father’s company will survive so my father can live a peaceful life.” She stared at him in exasperation, waiting for the answer. “Well?”

“Yes,” he nodded seriously. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

“As I’ve said, you’re plain mad if you think that...” she didn’t finish because he put a gentle finger on her lips and stroked lightly its puckered surface.

“I know that it must come as a shock for you.” He sounded strangely gentle now. “My proposition is quite unusual for today’s day and age perhaps. Nevertheless, it was quite common in the past, and often such arrangements, as you called it, ended in a very happy and steady marriage. Don’t decide now. You can have a few days to think about this.”

His hand moved higher and he stroked her cheek, his eyes focused on her lips. Amy would have sworn he wanted to kiss her. But then he dropped his hand, and walked back to his desk.

“My assistant will see you to the entrance,” he pushed one of the buttons. “Marcia, Miss Carpenter is leaving. Walk her to the elevator, please.”

Marcia entered almost immediately. Amy wanted to tell him that she didn’t need time to think about his absurd proposition, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t her intention to make scenes in front of his employees. Obediently, but without a second glance at him, she followed Marcia.

When she arrived home, she was still restless. Her thoughts, of their own accord, returned to Jake Barry. What he proposed was simply ridiculous and plain crazy, impossible, like from some bad soap opera. But despite the craziness of this, it made her think about getting married and having children. She’d always imagined herself as a wife and mother at some point of her life. Despite lacking the role model example in her own parents, she’d believed in marriage as a lifelong institution with two people raising kids, later grandchildren and getting old together.

The chances for such a relationship seemed to be limited in her case. The only man she’d ever truly given her heart to, Michael, had been already involved with someone else when she’d met him. She wasn’t the kind of person to destroy other people’s lives in order to be happy herself. It simply didn’t fit in her moral code and didn’t feel right. But sometimes when she lay alone in her bed at night, she admitted to herself that she missed a warm male body to cuddle with and strong arms in which to peacefully fall asleep. At such times, it crossed her mind that perhaps she should have fought for him. Michael hadn’t been married to that woman yet, back then, and he’d always repeated that it’d been his family that pushed him into that relationship. Perhaps it’d been a mistake on her part that she’d been so damn noble and honorable.

It was good that she worked next week. She would have more things to occupy herself and less time to ponder so much about everything that was going on now. A long time ago she’d come to the smart conclusion that thinking too much wasn’t always beneficial for her.

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, with a vivid vengeance, she cleaned the apartment. It was the best possible way to release stress from her system. And yes, scrubbing the dirt out from between the terracotta tiles, did keep her thoughts away from Jake Barry and his ridiculous ideas. Well, to some extent at least, truth to be told. The man was all but impossible. It was the twenty-first century for heaven’s sake. The times of forced and arranged marriages had passed. What had he been thinking to propose such a thing?

It was well past midnight when she decided that she was tired enough to be able to fall asleep. And she did. Her last conscious thought was that tomorrow she would have to think about some other way to get money to rescue the company.

* * * *

It was the persistent ringing of the doorbell that woke her the next morning. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, and tried to read the face of the small clock on the bedside table through her blurred vision. Soon she surrendered and reached for her glasses. She put them on her nose and she glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock! She hadn’t slept this late in the morning for a long while.

There was a silence for a moment before the ringing started again. She scrambled out of bed and heard the melody coming from her mobile. As usual, she could not remember where she’d left her phone yesterday, so she started checking the usual places where it was possible that she’d put it. But it was neither on her vanity, nor on the nearby bookshelf.

“Shut up!” she cried at last, losing her patience, covering her ears with her hands.

The melody from Phantom of the Opera was still coming from her as yet unfound mobile, and some idiot at the door was still ringing steadily.

She decided to give up looking for her phone for now and first answer the door. All her neighbors were mostly absent at this hour, so she couldn’t imagine who it could be. Her apartment was situated in a nice building in a safe neighborhood, and the door man would have never allowed any stranger to enter. So perhaps it was Peter, she thought, rushing to the door with hope. He all but disappeared the day after Dad had been taken to the hospital. A few days later he’d texted her a message that he was ok, telling her not to worry about him.

She flung the door open and frowned at Jake Barry. “Oh, it’s you.”

Chapter Three

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Jake Barry demanded sharply as he moved past her into the apartment. “You’re not opening the door, and not answering your phone.”

Amy stared with her mouth half open as he walked straight into her living room. After a few moments of just staring after him, with her mouth agape, she followed him, her bare feet tapping on the polished hardwood floor.

“What are you doing here?” she cried furiously.

She crossed his way, her hands on her hips. “I don’t remember inviting you here,” she added, her eyes narrowed at him.

He ignored her last sentence and smiled. “At this very moment I’m admiring the way you look in your pajamas fresh out of bed.”

Only then did she look down at herself. His crawling eyes made her self-conscious all at once. She had pajama bottoms on which now rode low, stopping on her hipbones. A good portion of her rounded tummy was on view, along with the edge of her pink panties. Her slip cami, with tiny straps was perhaps comfortable to sleep in, but at the same time left very little to the imagination.

She pulled up her loose pants and retied the drawstring. Then she tugged down her cami, but stopped when she noticed it revealed more of her breasts. Her arms wrapped defensively across her chest.

Amy mustered up a glare but it didn’t faze him. He still kept smiling down at her, his expression strangely warm and even ... affectionate?

“I didn’t know you were such a sleepyhead,” he noted. “Ten o’clock and you’re still in bed.”

“It’s none of your business,” she muttered. ”How did you get up here? The porter downstairs never allows strangers in,” she demanded hotly.

“I own the building,” he said simply.

“What?”

He walked to the floor-length glass door. “Your father bought this apartment for you from my company.”

“He didn’t tell me about this,” she whispered more to herself than to him.

“Perhaps he didn’t see a reason to do that,” he said.

He opened the glass door and walked out to the terrace.

“I had no idea you wear glasses,” she heard from the outside.

Only then did she realize that she hadn’t put in her contact lenses. Damn, him! The man was intruding on her privacy. Since a little girl she’d been, practically speaking, blind as a mole, and at the same time deeply convinced that she looked horrible in glasses. Despite her father’s reassurance that she’d looked very nice in glasses, she’d insisted on wearing contacts as soon as it’d been possible. She was very proud of herself that hardly anyone had seen her wearing glasses since her early teens.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she persisted as she stood in front of the terrace door. “What are you doing here uninvited?”

He strode leisurely around the terrace for a moment before he walked back to her. “You really shouldn’t talk like this to your future husband.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at her.

“You’re an idiot,” she blurted, then immediately regretted the sarcastic remark. .

At least he stopped smiling, though, she noted with satisfaction.

“I came here because I want to talk with you,” he informed her dryly. “Perhaps you would like to dress yourself first, unless you enjoy letting me look at those sweet looking tits,” he murmured as he pointed with his eyes to the deep cut in her clinging slip cami, in which the tops and the entire curves of her breasts were plainly visible.

Amy gaped at him, not sure whether to slap him or to laugh. She turned on her feet, and marched furiously back to her bedroom, leaving him alone. Thank God he didn’t follow her.

She made record time taking a shower and dressing. After a short consideration, she had decided against washing her long hair. Normally she washed it every day, in either the evening, or when she had more time before work early in the morning. She hated her hair not being fresh as her scalp would feel itchy. However, now it would take too much time to dry it. The last thing she wanted was to give him more time to sniff around her condo. She just pulled her hair haphazardly together in a loose knot at the back of her head, and hurried back to the living room.

He wasn’t there. “Mr. Barry?” she cried in the general direction, relieved, yet slightly disappointed he’d left.

“Jake, please,” he said gently from the open terrace door.

She marched to him decidedly, her lips tightly pressed, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that such familiarity between us is necessary,
Mr.
Barry,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “And you give the impression of such a sweet-tempered woman, Amy.”

“Miss Carpenter,” she muttered.

His face fell flat. He gave a resigned sigh and said, “Ok, let’s talk business.”

She nodded curtly and walked back inside the apartment. She sat on the large couch, and gestured for him to join her.

He did, but in her opinion, he settled himself much too close to her. She didn’t like her personal space being invaded like that. He reached out for his slightly worn looking leather briefcase, and took out some files.

“Read this,” he instructed and handed her one file.

She took it hesitantly. “What is it?”

“A pre-nup. My lawyer drew it yesterday.”

Amy’s eyes widened involuntarily when she heard the word pre- nup. She stared at the file for a moment.

“Perhaps you misunderstood me yesterday, but I said ‘no’ to your proposal of marriage,” she said slowly.

“Do you want to rescue the company or not?” he asked flatly. “Read it at least. There’s no harm to it, is there?”

She sighed and opened the file hesitantly, leafing through it. There were several pages covered with small print, it was rather long.

“You shouldn’t have problems with understanding it,” he noted. “You were in law school for almost a year after all.”

She frowned. “How do you know about that?”

His gaze focused on her face. “I know a lot about you.”

She peered at him for a moment. “Ok, I’ll look through it, but don’t read too much into it. I’m just curious, and that’s all.”

She couldn’t help when a small yawn escaped her. “I haven’t had my morning coffee yet. I can’t think properly without it.” She stood up and after a moment’s hesitation, reluctantly added, “Would you like a cup?” He was a guest after all, even if an uninvited one.

“Sure.” He grinned at her, stood up, and followed her into the kitchen.

She felt self-conscious as she moved around the kitchen. She didn’t look at him but felt his eyes on her.

“Do you always sleep so long?” he asked.

She looked sharply at him, but his expression was neither condescending nor patronizing, and if anything rather friendly.

“Not really,” she said when she filled the coffee maker with a fresh coffee. “I’m not the early bird exactly, but usually I don’t have problems waking at a decent hour. Just lately I haven’t slept much because I’ve been worrying about Dad.”

As the coffee brewed, she glanced at him. He leaned against the counter and gazed at her steadily. Why on earth did he stare at her like that? Didn’t he know that it was plain rude, not to mention, extremely uncomfortable for the other person?

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked as she opened the cupboard with an unnecessary clatter. “I have an apple pie.”

“Home made?” he asked doubtfully.

“Surprised?” She took out the plate with a pie, and removed the paper napkin, which prevented it from drying out. “I like baking, and cooking in general. It’s relaxing. I always cooked for my father when I was still living with him. I baked this yesterday morning for Dad, as well, because he cannot abide food on planes. It’s low fat, there’s not much sugar in it. It’s a bit tart, actually.”

“Looks good,” he murmured. Suddenly, he stood just behind her. “But different than the apples pies I’ve eaten.”

“Because it’s the old family recipe,” she explained as she cut the pie into small pieces and put them neatly on an elegant plate, handing him one

He stood close, which made her too aware of his much bigger frame next to her smaller one as he gobbled down his pie.

“My grandmother’s family came to America from Poland when she was just a toddler, but her mother—my great-grandmother—taught her to make some dishes from the old country. And she taught me. I was just ten when she died, but I remembered how to do it.”

She slapped his hand when he reached for another piece. “Hey!”

“Really good,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

She couldn’t help smiling at his boyish expression of pure delight, but soon reminded herself why he was here, and her expression went sober again.

“Shouldn’t it be your stepmother making snacks for your father?”

Amy just shrugged. “She’s got more important things to do,” she murmured with bitterness she didn’t really try to hide, her lips pressed tightly together. “Besides, it would ruin her manicure and you cannot imagine how important that is to her.” Amy tried to turn the last words into a joke, but it fell flat.

Unexpectedly he moved closely behind her and smoothed his big hands over her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

Amy felt hot, and slightly dizzy from his proximity. As she turned to face him, she pushed the plate with pie into his hands. “You’d better put it on the table.”

When he walked away, she let out a sigh of relief. He made her so nervous. She didn’t understand what was going on here. A week ago she didn’t even remember him existing.

Soon the coffee was ready. She put everything on the tray. The pot, the cups, sugar and milk, and the small plates for the pie. He stood up immediately when he saw her walking gingerly with the loaded tray, and wanted to take it from her.

“I’ll manage.” She backed away with a frown and walked to the table on her own.

While unloading the things from the tray, she noticed that there was only half of the pie left, and there were a few crumbles left on the tablecloth. She smiled despite
herself. Somebody obviously had a sweet tooth. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, for the first time, she noticed that he had a bit of a tummy. She remembered him to be much thinner from the times when he’d still worked for her father.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked as she poured him a cup.

“Black,” the short reply came.

She fixed her own coffee and sat down comfortably on the chair, one leg curled under her. He handed her the file with the pre-nup. She took a sip of the aromatic liquid, and began to read carefully.

“Well,” he asked when she finished.

She shrugged her shoulders. “As I said before, you’re crazy.”

“Is it too big a price for rescuing the company which your father loves most in the world?” he asked earnestly.

“I’m not a prostitute,” she said flatly.

The dark scowl appeared on his face. “I didn’t ask you to be,” he muttered.

“Really? There is not a word here about separate bedrooms.” She tossed the file on the table.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the lawyers,” he said with a gentle calmness in his voice, as though he was trying to explain something to a stubborn child. “But if it’s your wish we can add such a paragraph. I simply thought it best to leave some things private.”

“How considerate of you,” she said mockingly, leaning back into her chair and folding her hands in front of her. “But it’s not that easy. You demand from me to be your wife for the two next years, which according to this document means living with you in one house, accompanying you to all kinds of parties, and other social occasions. Does it mean that you expect me to sleep with you, as well?” She raised her eyebrow in challenge.

“Only if you want to.” He’d said it so sensually, his eyes glittering, that she felt it was safer to lower her own gaze.

“It’s entirely up to you. I’ve never in my entire life forced myself on a woman and I don’t intend to do that in the future. Especially when it comes to a woman I want to marry. And for your information, a dry fuck, when a woman is unwilling, is not much fun for either party.”

Amy blushed instantly at his bluntness, to the root of her honey blond hair, her eyes widening involuntarily. She wasn’t used to such frank sex talk. Perhaps she wasn’t overly experienced, but she and Michael had done enough in bed, for her to know how things worked. But what stunned her even more was that the sexual comments came from him. Never had she heard Jake speak so frankly—so crassly.

Jake leaned into her, his voice low and husky. “You know that when a woman is unprepared, there is no pleasure for either party, right?”

Her blushed increased, and she was so angry at herself she couldn’t control her reaction. “You don’t have to be so crude,” she chastised. “I understand your point. But what guarantee can I have that you would keep your word on this.”

“My word. That should be enough for you.”

“I know you too little to trust your word,” she pointed out reasonably.

He gave her a level look. “You cannot believe I’d ever force myself on you in physical terms,” he spoke matter-of-factly.