Temporary Bride (9 page)

Karen's eyes were wide with surprise as she stammered,
"Mark, please, I—"

Mark shrugged. "I know. You like me but Shane's the one
you love."

Her whole body jerked. How could Mark know she was in love
with Shane when she hadn't even know it herself until yesterday? She
started to protest but he waved a hand to stop her.

"Don't worry, Karen, Shane's too wrapped up in his own
problems to know what you're feeling unless you tell him, but I'm not
that detached. I know you'd never marry a man unless you loved him, and
you're headed for heartbreak. Karen, listen to me. It's easier to walk
out on him now than it will be a year from now. Don't do this to
yourself!"

She was strangely moved by the eloquence of his plea. Dear
Mark, he really was concerned about her. If only she had fallen in love
with him! She smiled and her green eyes were bright with unshed tears
of gratitude as she said, "Thank you, Mark, for caring, but it's too
late. I'm already committed and I don't want to back out. If you really
want to protect me, see to it that I'm guaranteed custody of my baby
after Shane and I are divorced."

So Mark fought with Shane and his lawyer. Shane's first
offer was to let Karen keep the baby for a year. Mark didn't even
bother to discuss it with Karen. With a lot of shouting and table
pounding they worked their way up, year by year, until they reached
eight. Then Shane dug in his heels and refused to negotiate further. In
a dangerously calm voice he said, "That's as far as I'll go. It's eight
years longer than I'd give any other woman, and if Karen won't agree to
it we'll simply forget the whole thing and I'll interview some of the
other applicants."

Reluctantly, Mark brought the final contract to Karen. The
divorce and settlement had never been in dispute and now Karen was
faced with the decision of whether or not to give up her child when he
reached the age of eight. She read it over carefully with Mark, then
took it to her room and spent hours pondering over it. Eight years
seemed like a long time—it was almost half her lifetime. By
the time her son—if it was a son—was eight he would
have outgrown his dependence on her. From then on he would need his
father to teach him to become a man. It wasn't as if she'd never see
him again. She'd have liberal visiting rights and Shane had agreed to
let her have him during the summer vacations. She knew Mark had pushed
Shane as far as he would be pushed. Now it was up to her.

The following morning she signed the premarital agreement
and Shane began making plans for the wedding.

Mark left for San Francisco the next day, but Shane
stayed, and Karen dared to hope they could spend the days before the
wedding getting to know each other better, developing that special
closeness that engaged couples should have. She was doomed to
disappointment. The next morning Shane met her at breakfast with a pad
of paper and a clipboard. Without even a handshake, let alone a kiss,
he began the interrogation.

"Do you want to be married in the church in your
hometown?" he asked.

Karen thought for a minute, then shook her head. "No. It
would be too painful without Mother and Dad and I haven't any other
relatives." She looked around and a thought occurred to her. "Would you
mind if we were married here?"

He looked startled. "Here? You mean at the house?"

She nodded. "It's such a beautiful place. We could set up
an altar in front of the glass wall and have the Pacific ocean as a
backdrop."

He shrugged and made a notation on the note pad. "All
right, if that's what you want. Is there a special minister you'd like?"

She shook her head. "Would you mind if we were married in
a civil ceremony?"

His eyes sought hers as he said, "Are you sure?"

"I don't know any ministers around here and, besides, a
minister would want us to go for premarital counseling. I don't think
either of us wants that."

He chuckled. "You're so right." He made another notation
on his pad. "Now, the reception. Do you want that here at the house,
too?"

"Oh, yes, if there's to be a reception it should be here."
She frowned. "Shane, will it be a very big wedding?"

He glanced up from his notes. "That depends on the size of
your list."

"My—my list?" she said uncertainly.

"Your guest list." He sounded impatient. "There are about
two hundred people I'd like to invite. A few are close friends and the
rest are business associates who would feel slighted if they weren't
asked. We'll send telegrams since there isn't time to have invitations
printed and mailed, so give me your list no later than this evening."

Karen was overwhelmed. Everything was happening so fast.
She had assumed that the wedding would be small, but Shane was talking
about inviting hundreds of people instead of dozens. She sipped her
orange juice as she tried to think. Her friends were all so far away.
It was such a long way to drive for just two or three hours and then
there would be the long drive back. Most of her school friends would be
leaving for college about that time and, besides, none of them would
fit in with Shane's friends—they were all so much younger.

Shane's words broke into her thoughts. "I called my
secretary yesterday and told her to find out who is the most popular
wedding consultant in the Bay Area and send her down here. Her name is
Julie Warner and she'll be here about eleven. She'll take charge of
planning the wedding, so if there's anything special you want be sure
to let her know."

Julie Warner was a study in contrasts. She looked like a
sex kitten and thought like an army general. Shane was delighted with
his secretary's choice and spent the rest of the day closeted with
Julie drawing up and discarding plans for a wedding more suited to a
princess than the young daughter of a college instructor. Karen was
allowed to stay around but they seldom bothered to consult her, and
when they did she was so confused that she couldn't be of any help
anyway.

The next morning Shane returned to San Francisco and took
Karen with him. She was wildly excited as she and Taffy packed enough
clothes to last her for the rest of the week. She looked forward to the
two-hour drive. Maybe in the close intimacy of the car they could talk,
make plans, learn a little more about each other. If Shane would just
give her time to think instead of demanding instant decisions, she
could tell him what she wanted.

Again she was disappointed. Shane turned on the car's
magnificent stereo system and the semiclassical music that surrounded
them was soothing and peaceful but made conversation difficult. She
finally gave up and slept.

She was aware of the change in traffic pattern as they
entered the city but was too drowsy to sit up. When the car finally
stopped she opened her eyes to find Shane bending over her, his face
close to hers, smiling.

"Do you always go to sleep when you ride in a car?"

She knew he was remembering the first day they met when
she'd slept in Mark's arms on the way to Shane's home on the Monterey
Peninsula. She stretched and he took her in his arms and nuzzled the
side of her neck, sending shivers through her. She snuggled against him
and ran her fingers through his hair. It was clean and thick and cut so
that it followed the shape of his head. She kissed his cheek and
murmured, "The first time I slept in your car you got mad at me."

He raised his head and looked into her solemn green eyes.
"Mark was right—I was jealous."

She brushed a lock of raven hair off his forehead. "But
you didn't even know me then."

"I knew all I needed to know." He kissed the tip of her
nose. "I knew you were going to be a real threat to my nervous system
if I kept you with me for long."

He lowered his head and his mouth covered hers. It was the
first time he'd kissed her in the four days since she'd agreed to marry
him but his kiss hadn't lost any of its potency. With a little shiver
her arms tightened, and he pulled her closer as his lips forced hers
apart and his tongue plundered her sweetness. One hand settled on her
hip and the other found its way under her pullover shirt, sending
tongues of fire down her spine. His fingers caressed her unencumbered
breasts and the kiss deepened just as a horn sounded several times
beside them. They pulled apart and Karen saw that they were in an
underground parking garage and a car had pulled into the space next to
them. The driver grinned and waved and Shane swore under his breath but
waved back.

Karen pulled down her shirt and her eyes questioned Shane.
"Don Sanderson," he explained. "A dentist who has the condominium just
below mine. Come on—we'd better get out so I can introduce
you." He sounded angry again, and Karen was once more at a loss to know
what she'd done.

The condominium was pure luxury but on a smaller scale
than the house. Shane employed a middle-aged couple, Gus and Bertha
Hess, who lived in and took care of it. The living room window
overlooked the Golden Gate Bridge, that miracle of suspension, and from
her bedroom next to Shane's she could see the city laid out before her.
Shane set her suitcase on the stand and said, "Change into something
pretty. We're meeting Julie Warner for lunch and afterward she's taking
you shopping for a wedding gown and trousseau."

Lunch in San Francisco was not a meal but an experience.
The small bar, in an alley off the mainstream of traffic, catered to
the discriminating and the rich. The diners looked like business
executives with their expensive clothes and sophisticated manners. Both
Shane and Julie were known and catered to and Karen felt out of place
once again. The meal was good but she lost her appetite when Shane and
Julie got so wrapped up in their conversation that they ignored her.

Afterward Julie took Karen shopping. Karen expected to go
to department stores and try on dresses. Not so. The salon had no racks
of dresses—just couches and coffee tables and acres of soft
beige carpet. They were served coffee and cake while tall, thin models
paraded around the room in every possible design of wedding gown. All
of them looked too overpowering for her tiny frame but the elegant lady
in charge picked two that she assured Karen would be exactly right when
made up in her size 3 petite. Karen was doubtful but she finally chose
one that she hoped would not submerge her completely. As the seamstress
took Karen's measurements, Julie explained that it would have to be a
rush job as the wedding was less than two weeks away. The brittle,
sophisticated lady in charge nodded her understanding.

"Of course. You understand we will have to charge
extra—the overtime and all—but we're used to this."
Her fingers spanned Karen's tiny waistline and she said, "It would be
better to allow for a little expansion right here, although she
shouldn't put on more than an inch in such a short time."

For a minute Karen was puzzled, then she felt the blood
rush to her face as she understood. She pulled away from the woman's
grasp and her voice shook as she said, "I'm not pregnant! Now please
bring my clothes so we can leave!"

The woman's face registered surprise and Julie intervened. "Don't be so naive, Karen! So many of
the brides now are pregnant that they even have a line of maternity
wedding dresses. It was a natural mistake. She wasn't making a moral
judgment."

The woman apologized profusely, and Karen decided that it
wasn't worth making an issue of.

When they finished taking her measurements she dressed,
and once more the models paraded before them—this time in
outfits for the trousseau. Karen kept her order simple, buying only
those clothes she would really need for the next few months. The only
reason she was getting married was to get pregnant and she assumed that
this would happen without too much delay. Then she would need maternity
clothes, and since Shane was determined to get rid of her once the baby
was born she wanted nothing from him but what was necessary to raise
his child—his
son
, she reminded herself.

It was that evening that Karen finally had a chance to
talk to Shane alone. They were having coffee in the den and he asked
about her shopping trip. She told him about the woman who thought she
was pregnant and his eyes darkened with regret as he reached for her
and drew her close beside him on the couch. His strong slender fingers
smoothed her long golden brown hair back from her cheek as he said, "My
poor baby, I should have thought of that. I forgot that most people
have minds like cesspools. I should have set the wedding date a couple
of months away instead of a couple of weeks." His arm tightened around
her and he pressed her cheek against the silky smoothness of his shirt
front as his voice grew husky and he murmured almost to himself,
"I—I couldn't wait any longer."

No, she thought bitterly, he couldn't wait to get this
show on the road—to have an heir and get rid of me.

She pulled away from him and sat up. Might as well get on
with the plans so there wouldn't be any delays. She cleared her throat
and said, "Shane, I've been thinking about attendants. Do I have to
have more than one?"

He looked surprised. "Not if that's all you want. Who are
you going to ask?"

"Could I—could I ask Taffy?"

"Taffy!" he almost shouted. "You mean
our
Taffy?"

"Yes."

"But she's the maid!" He stared at her as if she'd lost
her mind. "Don't you have any close friends?"

She knew she'd botched it. "Yes, but they're scattered all
over the country at colleges, or will be by then. Besides, this was
never meant to be a real, lasting marriage and I don't want them to
think I can't hold a man for more than a year."

He opened his mouth to say something then closed it and
his eyes darkened as he looked at her for a long moment. She was the
first to look away and his voice was surprisingly soft as he said,
"Karen…"