An Offer He Can't Refuse (9 page)

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Mr. Razzano stood. He glanced from Madison to the file on his desk and opted to take the folder with him.

The moment the door clicked shut, Madison turned to Jackson. “I can’t believe you accused me of not being able to keep my mouth shut. And that man,” she said, redirecting her anger. “For some reason he doesn’t like me.”

Jackson gave her an incredulous look. “How could that be?”

“I’m serious.”

“It doesn’t matter if he likes you, or not,” Jackson said. “It only matters that he believes you.”

“But why doesn’t he like me?” she asked.

“I can’t begin to imagine.”

“You’re mocking me.”

Jackson was about to protest when she continued instead.

“What did I do to him? I’ve been cooperative, polite, I—”

Jackson had heard enough. He was worn out and cranky—tired of looking at her mouth. He reached over and pulled her chair closer so that he could stop her rambling with a kiss. His tongue grazed hers, prompting her to sample him, too. The taste of her reminded him of the sweet flesh of honeydew. Her lips were soft and pliable. He curved his hand beneath her silky hair and around the soft nape of her neck. Kissing her intoxicated him somehow, made him feel powerful and powerless at the same time.

Mr. Razzano cleared his throat, announcing his return.

Jackson drew away, smiling at Madison when she opened her eyes, looking as if she were awaking from a deep sleep. Her cheeks flushed when she realized they had an audience.

“Sorry about the interruption,” Mr. Razzano said, flustered by their behavior. “Now where was I? Oh, yes, question number three. Have the two of you become intimate?”

“Excuse me?” Jackson asked.

Mr. Razzano’s face reddened. “We need to know these things…”

Jackson tried to remain cool, but it wasn’t easy. He sat up straight and tall, and then leaned over Mr. Razzano’s desk, prompting the man to lean backward. “I don’t know what’s going on here exactly,” Jackson stated firmly, “but our sex life is none of your business.”

“I-I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Mr. Lang, but as you can see,” he said, holding up a large file, “I have a list of questions I’m required to ask before I can determine if this relationship is genuine.”

“Who makes up those ridiculous questions?”

“We have a committee that deliberates long hours to come up with specialized questions for each individual case.”

Jackson shot him a dubious look. “It took your committee hours to come up with ‘have we had sex?’”

The man’s face paled.

“Our sex life is none of your business. We’re in love and we’re getting married. What else do you need to know?”

Mr. Razzano blinked excessively. “Well, I—uh—”

Madison touched Jackson’s arm. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “This man owes you an apology.”

“He does?”

“Yes, he does.” Jackson stood, towering over Mr. Razzano. “Apologize to my fiancée right now for making her feel badly.”

Madison gave Mr. Razzano a meek, apologetic smile when he looked at her. “He doesn’t have to—”

“Yes, he does,” Jackson said firmly. “The man was rude. He’s getting paid to make sure your grandfather’s money is properly distributed. The least he can do is treat you with respect.” Jackson turned back to Mr. Razzano. “You hurt her feelings. She doesn’t think you like her. Tell her that you do.”

The man cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Madison. “You appear to be a nice young lady—”

Jackson narrowed his eyes.

“I like you, Ms. Brown,” Mr. Razzano said, his voice floundering. “I like you very much.”

“There,” Jackson said, taking his seat again. “Was that so hard?”

Mr. Razzano sunk lower into his chair.

Madison managed a thin smile.

“Okay then. I’m ready to answer some questions,” Jackson said, rubbing his hands together. He looked at Madison. “How about you?”

~~~

Jackson climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out onto the road.

Slinking into the leather seat of Jackson’s expensive car, Madison groaned. “That definitely did not go as I’d hoped.”

“Well, it’s never easy to lie,” Jackson said.

“A few harmless falsehoods,” she argued, gazing at him, remembering how he’d stood up for her and made Mr. Razzano apologize. She’d felt bad for the man, but at the same time, she’d also felt incredibly protected. It was a nice feeling. And then there was the kiss…better than the first time. Much better. A prickly sense of excitement swept through her at the thought that he would soon be her husband. By the end of the week, she would be Mrs. Madison Lang.

Her heart pounded against her chest. She was falling for the man.

How could that be? That wouldn’t do.

She had to stay focused, remember why this could never work. He preferred men, she had to remind herself. And then she recalled one of the things Jackson had said in Mr. Razzano’s office, and said, “Little critters?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“When Mr. Razzano asked if we planned to have children, you referred to them as little critters.”

“That’s what they are…damnable puppy dogs.”

“Maybe we should have talked about this sooner,” she muttered.

He took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a bewildered look. “What difference would it have made? You’re not getting any hopeful fantasies about this whole marriage business becoming permanent, are you?”

“Of course not,” she said, ignoring the twinge in her heart. “I’m just not crazy about the idea of being married to a man who refers to children as critters.”

“Well, you should’ve stuck that one in your long list of rules and regulations.”

“I thought I did.”

“Wasn’t in there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you certainly overdid the whole lovey-dovey business, wouldn’t you say? And then telling Mr. Razzano that you got that black eye because of me. Crazy talk.” She huffed. “You and that Archer guy had it in for each other. It had nothing to do with me.”

“True, Archer isn’t high on my list of people to have lunch with, but the man was groping you, for God’s sake. Maybe you were enjoying his attention, though. Next time I’ll be sure to mind my own business.”

“The man touched my waist, for Pete’s sake, and I don’t know why you would even care, unless you were—”

“Were what?” he asked.

Her eyes grew wide. “Unless you were jealous.” A part of her knew it was crazy to even entertain the idea, but it made sense. For the life of her she couldn’t imagine why he’d gone off on Archer as he did unless he’d been jealous.

“The truth is I didn’t appreciate the way it looked—my fiancée dancing with the man, letting him slide his hands all over her in full view of everyone at the ball. It was downright humiliating.”

She blew air out through her nose. “That’s ridiculous.” She looked out the window and then quickly snapped her head back his way. “I spent a lot of time getting dressed up for that ball. And for what? To have you ignore me? Granted, we aren’t the least bit attracted to one another—”

“True.”

“—nor would we have met if I hadn’t proposed—” She stopped in mid-sentence. “What’s true?”

“The part about the two of us not being attracted to each other.”

“I’m not your type? Is that what you mean? I’m not good enough for you?”

The frown lines on his forehead deepened. “This isn’t going to turn into one of those question-answer sessions, is it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know,” Jackson said, “the sort of thing where you ask me if I think you’re fat, and no matter what I answer I end up being the bad guy?”

There was a long pause. His preference for men over women should have been enough reason for her not to worry about her feelings for him getting out of control…but, he didn’t act gay, and that confused her.

She tried to focus on the scenery outside but it was impossible. “If you’re not attracted to me, why do you keep kissing me?”

“Because the truth is, I am attracted to you—every bit of you. Your long black hair makes my palms itch to touch it,” he said in a gruff manner, as if the mere thought of her hair angered him. “Your blue eyes remind me of endless oceans, and your lips were made for kissing.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

Jackson kept his eyes on the road. “I wasn’t being sarcastic. But now that we’re on the subject,” he added, “you asked me to do all I could to make Mr. Razzano believe I was in love with you. That’s exactly what I did. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t enjoy one minute of it.”

“Well, neither did I,” she said. “And I didn’t appreciate your use of tongue. It was completely unnecessary.”

The sensuous corners of his mouth curved upward. “You sure didn’t seem to mind at the time. And if I recall correctly, I don’t believe I was the only one using tongue.”

He was right. She’d melted in his arms, like ice cream on a summer day.

“When I heard Mr. Razzano coming down the hall,” Jackson continued, “I saw it as an opportunity—a chance to make him think we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other while he was gone. And once again, I don’t remember you complaining about that when you kissed me in the coffee shop last week.”

“When
I
kissed you?” She clamped her mouth shut. Arguing with him was getting them nowhere. Madison gazed out the window and watched the trees and houses go by in a blur. “I guess you realize we need to get married in the next few days,” she said, her voice calm as she talked about her wedding as if it were a barbecue.

He didn’t respond and she couldn’t help but feel a little sad about the idea of living a lie for the next three months. She thought about what Jackson had said earlier about her fantasy of having kids and a house with a white picket fence. She hadn’t realized it until he’d said it, but he was right. Deep down, she did want all of that someday. And a few times since meeting Jackson, she’d found herself hoping for a miracle—a little divine intervention that would cause him to look at her in a way that would make bells ring—a look that would tell her that all things happened for a reason—even marriage to a stranger.

Twenty minutes later, his sleek car pulled into her driveway. Jackson didn’t bother turning off the engine. He looked at her and said in a quiet voice, “About the wedding. If it’s okay with you, my brother said he’d take care of the entire event—a modest affair at his place this weekend. He promised to keep it small. Will Sunday at noon work for you?”

She nodded. “I have a few relatives I need to invite, but you can count them on one hand.”

Jackson climbed out of the car and came around to the other side and opened her door. “I’ll call you tomorrow with directions.”

“Thanks for coming today.” Once again she noticed his injured eye. The bruise had turned a new shade of purple. “You better get some ice on that. Does it hurt much?”

“Not as much as my pride.”

She rested her gaze on his sensual mouth. “I know the next three months aren’t going to be easy—complete opposites thrown together like this.”

He cupped his hand over her elbow and helped her out. “Maybe not, but if nothing else, it’ll certainly be interesting.”

Chapter Six

The following Sunday came much too fast. Madison followed Jen past the butler and straight into Jamie’s Mediterranean-style Pacific Palisades home. With ocean and city views, the house was beyond grand with its floor-to-ceiling windows, wide open living space, and marbled entry.

As she peered about in awe, her stomach fluttered. Caterers hustled back and forth between the sprawling kitchen and the backyard. Through the wide open French doors, she could see a long rectangular pool and wide expanse of a well-manicured lawn. The smell of jasmine wafted in the air.

But why, she wondered, would they need so many people for such a small affair?

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Jen whispered.

“I’d rather be having a root canal,” Madison said under her breath. “Jackson said only a few people would be attending.”

“Look at you,” Jen said. “You’re getting all jittery, just like real brides do.”

“I am not getting jittery.”

Jen didn’t argue further. She was too busy watching a tall, gorgeous man in an Oxford shirt and dark pants come toward them. The handsome man wore a white apron tied around his waist. He offered his hand. “Now which one of you lovely ladies is the bride?”

After shaking his hand, Jen pointed at Madison.

Although her friend could be exasperating, Madison decided she’d have to thank Jen later for forcing her to go shopping. So what if she’d be making payments on her new outfit for the next six months. The ivory suit she had on fit her snug around the waist, complimenting her small chest, instead of burying it. “I-I am the bride,” Madison said as she took his offered hand.

“You don’t sound too sure.” Amusement lined his voice. “Is it because you’re already regretting the idea of marrying Jackson, or has he been telling you about my cooking?”

Madison tilted her head in puzzlement.

His smile broadened. “I’m Christopher.” His fingers gripped firmly around Madison’s. “But you can call me Chris.”

This man was Jackson’s cook! Where was the hint of femininity, the slight bend of the wrist, anything? This guy was one hundred percent testosterone. He was tall, lean, and possessed a strong chin with a handsome dent creasing the center.

Jackson’s lover was downright heavenly.

Jackson’s brother, Jamie, entered the French doors and greeted them next. He gave Madison a peck on the cheek and then introduced himself to Jen as Madison tried to get a better look at Chris—her competition so to speak.

It wasn’t long before Jamie and Jen were off discussing interior design and Madison was following Chris to the kitchen. She took a seat on one of the swivel stools overlooking the granite countertop where he was working. She watched him cut up vegetables and fill mushroom caps with a mixture of cooked sausage, bread crumbs, and celery.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, taking a celery stick he held out for her.