Just Between Friends (O'Rourke Family 4) (2 page)

“So bite the bullet and marry someone else.”

“But that would be the same as selling myself, just to get the house.” She tried to appear shocked. “How can you possibly suggest such a thing?” She actually
was
shocked, though women had been marrying men for money and position and property for much longer than she’d been around.

Dylan clenched his fingers. Truthfully, he wasn’t wild about the notion of Kate marrying one of the stuffed shirts who were always buzzing around her. He
supposed it was because he was like a big brother to Katydid, and brothers never approved of their sister’s boyfriends. But there wasn’t any way he was going along with her nutty scheme.

Kate pulled a white handkerchief from her white purse and dabbed her eyes. “You want me to act like a prostitute, trading my body for gain. It wouldn’t be any different.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dylan said, appalled.

“Yes, it is.” She lifted her chin. “Fine, if that’s what you want, I’ll decide which one of them I’m going to marry. You’ll get an invitation to the wedding.”

With a graceful twist of her body she rose from the couch and headed for the door.

She looked over her shoulder. “Maybe you can be best man,” she said as a parting shot. “I’m sure it’s an honor you deserve.”

The door closed behind her and Dylan groaned and thumped his head against his high-backed chair. She was working on his guilt and trying to make him feel responsible for a situation he had no part in creating.

Still, in a way Katydid was right. It
would
be selling herself to get the house. She plainly wasn’t in love with any of those suitors she’d talked about, and they would expect far more from the marriage than she wanted to give.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear the thought of sweet little Katydid submitting to a man’s attentions simply because her grandmother had been a conniving witch. There had to be another way. The Douglases’ small social circle wasn’t populated with a single man worth a red cent in terms of character. And several of those guys
weren’t very nice beneath their silk shirts and monogrammed money clips.

Dylan rushed to his feet and hurried through the outer office. He caught up with Kate on the street below just as she was getting into her disreputable car. Why she insisted on driving the beat-up old Volkswagen Beetle was beyond him. Granted, it was a classic, but the least she could do was have the thing properly restored. He supposed it was her way of rebelling.

“Kate, wait.”

She turned and the look on her face made him wince.

“What? More advice?” Her chin rose higher. “Believe me, I have all the advice I need from you.”

“Please, Katydid, we need to talk.”

“I think we’ve said everything. Of course, I won’t be bothering you anymore to buy fund-raising tickets. I don’t suppose that my husband, whoever he turns out to be, would like it anymore than he’d like you showing up to watch something on the VCR with us.”

Damn.

Dylan’s fingers itched with the illogical urge to throttle Kate’s theoretical husband. It would be a pain tying himself to a spoiled princess for a year, but on the other hand, he’d watched after Kate since they were children. Like the time he’d talked her down from the roof of her parents’ six-car garage after she’d convinced herself that she was really a fairy with invisible wings.

“Kate, there isn’t
one
man you’ve dated who you feel some affection for?”

Something flickered deep in her eyes—an emotion he’d never seen before—but it disappeared and he decided he must have been mistaken.

“There’s no one else.”

He let out a breath. “Maybe you could suggest the same arrangement to one of those guys, and they’d agree.”

“But you’re the only one I trust,” she said simply.

Oh, God.

He supposed it really
was
that simple. “Look, I’ll come over tonight, and we’ll talk about it some more.
Talk
, that’s all. I’m not making any promises.”

Kate hesitated, wanting to push, but she knew it would just make Dylan more unwilling, which was the last thing she wanted now that he seemed to be considering her proposal. “All right. I’ll order Chinese.”

“Nope, the last time you got calamari. Damn stuff was so rubbery my jaw ached for a week. I’ll bring pizza.”

She nodded and put her key in the lock. Asking a man to marry her was much harder than getting him to help her run away from home or go to another boring fundraiser. She’d like to believe that Dylan—who said he was allergic to marriage—was really crazy about her and didn’t know it. But Kate had learned not to fool herself. She just prayed that living together for a year would convince him that she was the love of his life.

If necessary, she’d resort to drastic measures. How hard could it be to seduce a man who’s bumping up against you day and night? But then, maybe she didn’t want to know. Dylan had always been depressingly resistant to her in that way.

“I’ll see you later,” she said.

“Yeah, maybe we can discuss why you won’t get a proper car for yourself.”

Kate patted the steering wheel of the VW. She loved her car. It had character. She’d bought it with the advance from the sale of her first children’s book. Hardly anybody knew she worked; it was one of the few things that was hers alone. Dylan might find out if they got married, but then again, maybe not.

It wasn’t like they’d be sharing a bedroom or anything. Darn it.

“I
t’s the pizza guy.”

Kate’s pulse jumped at the sound of Dylan’s voice coming from the other side of the front door. She took a last look at herself in the mirror and smoothed a strand of hair at her temple.

She’d taken great pains to dress casually in off-the-rack clothing. There wasn’t any need to remind him about her family’s money. Of course, he was very successful now, and his oldest brother’s current financial status made the Douglas fortune look like pocket change, but that didn’t alter the fact that at one time she’d been rich when he was poor.

“I hope that pizza is still hot,” she said, opening the door. “I don’t tip for cold deliveries.”

Dylan grinned. “You shouldn’t open the door without being sure it isn’t some weirdo on the other side.”

“I knew it was you, so there wasn’t any doubt it was a weirdo.”

“You have a real way about you, Katydid.”

Kate stepped back so he could enter. Dylan always seemed so big to her, maybe because he topped her by at least ten inches and eighty pounds of muscle. Lord, he gave her a weak feeling in the tummy. He wasn’t as perfectly handsome as his brothers, but he had a raw sexuality that was powerful and completely irresistible.

A secret smile tugged at her mouth.

Dylan’s rugged good looks caused a stir wherever he went. It wasn’t any wonder that the women he met at fund-raisers were curious about him, and more than a little envious when she showed up on his arm. Of course, the old guard of her grandmother’s generation could be snotty, but she’d seen them bowled over by his charm, nevertheless.

“I brought some wine,” Dylan said, waving a bag.

“Okay,” Kate said unenthusiastically.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I know you prefer milk with pizza.” Instead of a wine bottle, he pulled a carton of milk from the bag.

Just like that, he made her feel ten years old again. Milk was for little girls and kittens, not sophisticated women.

“Maybe I’ll have beer tonight,” she muttered, walking into her kitchen. The converted apartment over the garage was the one place on her grandmother’s estate that she liked. The garage had once been a carriage house with living quarters above, and it was hidden from the main house by a stand of trees. She had a private entrance to the estate, so her friends had been able to visit without being scrutinized by Nanna Jane.

Really, her grandmother should have worked for the CIA. She would have made a great spy.

Dylan set the pizza box on the old farm-kitchen table she’d rescued from a junk heap. Kate automatically opened the cupboard to get some plates, then shook her head. Dylan always said regular people didn’t eat pizza off plates—they just grabbed a napkin and chowed down.

“Have you…mmm…decided…” Her voice trailed, instincts telling her that he wasn’t ready to discuss anything beyond dinner. “That is, do you want beer or wine? I have your favorite beer, and I think I have some red wine, too.”

Dylan restrained his grin. “Milk is fine. You don’t need to have a drink on my account.”

“I’m over twenty-one, I can drink alcohol.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like it.”

She gave him a narrow look that announced he was on extremely thin ice. “This is about you thinking I’m still a child, right?”

“Chugging beer isn’t going to change my opinion one way or the other,” Dylan murmured. Kate was so cute with her feathers ruffled that he enjoyed shaking her up now and then.

She thumped two glasses on the table. “You’re impossible. A total pill.”

“I know.”

Dylan spied a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and shook his head. She really was a sweet kid.

All afternoon he’d been thinking about her crazy plan to get married. He supposed that it was natural Kate would turn to him for help—he’d been playing protective big brother ever since they’d met. Despite her family’s
money, she’d had a lonely childhood, spending more time with the family servants than with her family. When he’d come with his dad to wash the cars and do yard work she’d tagged along, always at his heels, asking questions and making him feel…

He sighed.

Might as well admit it, Kate had made him feel big and important, even though he was just a skinny youngster wearing hand-me-down jeans and T-shirts. In a funny sort of way she still made him feel big and important whenever they were together, teasing and calling him her best friend.

“Such a serious face.” Kate opened the carton of milk and filled their glasses. “If you behave yourself you can have a wine milkshake later.”

“And if I don’t behave, what do I get then?” Dylan’s voice deepened provocatively, startling him.

Where had
that
come from?

He’d never flirted with Kate. She was a bright, annoying kid who he was fond of, but he’d never considered anything romantic with her. Heck, he’d seen her knobby knees when she was a youngster and listened as she bemoaned her flat chest. Not that she was flat-chested any longer. In fact, she had a very nice set of measurements. So nice it was…he hastily put a brake on his unruly thoughts.

Kate blinked, obviously surprised. Then she tossed her head and gave him a slow smile. “You’ll get something better than a wine milkshake, that’s for sure.”

Dylan didn’t have time to decipher the expression in her eyes before she spun around and grabbed a shaker of crushed red pepper from the counter.

“Do you want fresh-grated Parmesan on your pizza?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Uh…I think they included some. Not fresh-grated, but good enough,” he muttered, still trying to sort out what had just happened. For God’s sake, he’d actually been flirting with a girl he regarded as a kid sister. Romance with Kate had never occurred to him, and if it had, he would have laughed at the idea. She was too rich, too flighty, too everything.

“Okay.”

She set the hot pepper sprinkles next to his glass of milk, which made him grin despite his inner turmoil. Kate didn’t like spicy food, which was why he always ordered their pizza as half vegetarian and half meat-lover’s special. She’d eat a couple pieces of the vegetarian and he’d have the rest.

Yet his smile faded as he gazed at the table. Kate had bought a special shaker and filled it with crushed red pepper after the time the restaurant had forgotten to include any with their order. She might be a royal pain, but she was fiercely loyal to her friends. Nothing was too much trouble when Kate Douglas was on your side.

A stab of guilt hit Dylan. Was it really such a sacrifice to marry her for a year? They got along pretty well, and it wasn’t as if he was dating anyone seriously. In fact, a convenient not-really-a-marriage with Kate would get his mother off his back about finding a nice girl. Now that three of her children were happily wed, Pegeen O’Rourke was even more determined to see the rest of them married off. It was something to think about.

“Earth to Dylan,” Kate intoned, jolting him back to
the present. She dropped into a chair and rested her chin on her hand. “I’m hungry, how about you?”

“Right,” he muttered. “Hungry.”

A spicy fragrance rose from the large pizza inside the box, and they ate quietly for several minutes. Silences between them had always been comfortable and natural, but Kate’s earlier proposal had changed all that. He was crazy to even consider marrying a spoiled princess with the staying power of a soap bubble. Everything about her was delicate, from her golden hair and sea-green eyes to the arches in her small feet. She didn’t have a clue about the tough things in life.

Of course, if they
did
get married it wouldn’t be real. They’d be like roommates, with separate lives and separate beds. Legally, they’d end with a divorce, but as far as his conscience was concerned, it would be an annulment. A marriage that hasn’t been consummated isn’t a marriage in the first place.

“You aren’t having any hot pepper,” Kate said, shifting uncomfortably.

She couldn’t understand the peculiar expression on Dylan’s face or the way he stared at her. It wasn’t desire or affection—more like she had spinach caught in her teeth.

He shook the red pepper on his pizza and continued eating. She glanced around her cozy home and thought about what it would be like to share it with someone. She’d hate losing the carriage house because of Nanna Jane’s will, but it would be worse to lose her best friend. Maybe she should just tell Dylan she’d changed her mind and was giving up the estate.

Yet when Kate opened her mouth, the words stuck
in her throat. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering about what might have been. It was hard enough having spent her entire adult life pining after a man who thought she was still a kid. So instead of saying anything, she bit into a second slice of pizza.

She wanted to be like Great-Grandfather Rycroft Douglas, who threw his hat in the wind and dug for gold in the land of the midnight sun. That’s where she wanted to spend her honeymoon, in Alaska, celebrating the rebellious spirit she’d inherited from him.

All at once the corners of Kate’s mouth turned down.
If
she married Dylan—and it was a big if—there wouldn’t be a real honeymoon. Darn it all. She didn’t know whether to be angry about the conditions in Nanna Jane’s will or grateful for the opportunity.

“What’s wrong, Katydid?” Dylan asked quietly. “Are you thinking about your grandmother’s will?”

Her startled gaze flew to his. “How did you…?”

“I can tell you’re unhappy about something, and that’s the most obvious cause.”

Well, she
had
been thinking about the will in connection to Dylan and what the future might bring. Her spirits lifted. He’d sensed she was unhappy. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was better than nothing.

Kate shrugged and drank the last of her milk. “I’m all right,” she said noncommittally. She knew enough about Dylan to know she couldn’t push.

He reached across the table and drew his thumb across her upper lip. Heat rose in her cheeks both from his touch and the realization that she’d left a thin line of milk on her mouth. Lord, what her grandmother would have said about such unladylike impropriety.
Kate didn’t care about the impropriety, but she hated looking ridiculous. Yet Dylan’s dark eyes were curiously warm.

“Dylan?” she whispered.

For a long moment he just stared at her lips. The breath caught in her throat and a tingling sensation crept across her nerves. Was he thinking about kissing her, or just wondering what it would be like? She’d only thought about it a few thousand times, but who was counting?

“I…I’ve been thinking about what you said…suggested this afternoon,” he muttered. “If we do it, we’ll need to sign a prenuptial agreement. It should be clear when we end things that we each keep what we owned before the marriage. Your grandmother’s lawyers can draft the thing—they’ll probably insist on it, anyway.”

The hope cascading through Kate came to a crashing halt.

A prenuptial agreement?

That’s
what he’d been thinking about?

“You think I’d try to take part of your business?” she gasped. “How could you even begin to think such a thing? I don’t want a penny of your money. That’s absolutely the most ridiculous, unbeliev—”

“Whoa.” Dylan clamped his hand over her mouth. “Dammit, that isn’t what I meant. Your grandmother’s property alone must be worth more than my construction business, not to mention your trust fund and everything else. I’d just want to make it clear that I’m not interested in your family fortune.”

Annoyed, Kate nipped the callused palm of his hand with her teeth. He yanked his hand away with a low growl.

“So you want to save your pride with a pre-nup,” she snapped. “Announce to the whole wide world that you don’t think our marriage will last. Shall we publish the details in the
Seattle Times
classifieds, or do you think a simple announcement to our friends and families will be enough?”

Frustrated, Dylan ran his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage, so what does it matter what everyone thinks?”

She gave him a baleful look.

If Dylan didn’t already know what mattered, he probably wouldn’t ever know. It wasn’t just wounded pride—though her pride was already plenty wounded—it was something more fundamental. Dylan was her best friend; she trusted him in ways she’d never trusted anyone. She didn’t want a prenuptial agreement because legal agreements were for people who didn’t trust each other.

Unfortunately, she needed a reason that a pragmatist like Dylan O’Rourke would accept.

“It has to
look
like a real marriage,” she said. “Or the lawyers will make trouble. A pre-nup might seem suspicious.”

Dylan frowned. “Won’t they want to protect you just in case? At the very least your father will insist on me signing something. I don’t think he likes me that much.”

A pang went through Kate. Her father wasn’t the protective type—sometimes she wondered if he remembered her name.

“I doubt it,” she said dryly. “Father and Mother are in Europe for a few months. I doubt they’ll even come back for the wedding.”

“Katy—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kate said hastily, not wanting Dylan to feel sorry for her. “But you should know that Grandmamma’s will says we have to live on the property for a year as husband and wife.” It was the truth, and she was quite certain her grandmother’s snooty lawyers would scrutinize the situation like a gaggle of gossiping old biddies.

“You mean we have to live in that mausoleum?” Dylan groaned.

Kate’s heart jumped because it sounded as if he’d decided to help her. “The will just says we have to live on the property, so I thought we’d stay here in my place.”

“Here?”

“It seems easiest, especially since the big house needs a huge amount of work to be comfortable,” she said, trying to sound practical. Dylan was the kind of man who’d want a practical wife, and she had every intention of being the best wife in the world. “We’ll just be housemates. Of course, everyone has to believe it’s a real marriage,” she added hastily.

He glanced around her kitchen with an unreadable expression. “Your place is a little small,” he murmured.