The Marriage Bargain (4 page)

“I won’t.” She paused. “See ya.”

That was the moment Nick knew he was wrong. Dead wrong. Alexandria Maria McKenzie could win at poker—not because she lied, but because she was willing to lose.

She also played a mean game of chicken.

She turned. Strode to the door. Twisted the knob. Then…

“Okay.” The words fired out of his mouth before he had time to think. Something told him she’d walk away and wouldn’t call back later to say she changed her mind. And damn it, Alexa was his only candidate. One year of his life was nothing compared to the gift of a future to do what he always dreamed about.

He gave her credit. She didn’t even gloat.

She turned back around and spoke in a crisp, businesslike tone. “I know the contract doesn’t state our new agreement. Do you give me your word you’ll stick to the new terms?”

“I can draw up a revised document.”

“No need. Do you give me your word?”

Her figure shimmered with energy. Nick realized she trusted him on the same level he trusted her. A prickle of satisfaction ran through him. “I give you my word.”

“Then I’ll shake on it. Oh, and the dissolution of the marriage after one year? My family can’t be hurt in this deception. We cite irreconcilable differences and pretend to part friends.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good. Pick me up tonight at seven and we’ll go see my family to break the news. I’ll take care of all the wedding arrangements.”

He nodded, his brain a bit foggy from his decision and her nearness. Was that subtle fragrance from her skin vanilla? Or cinnamon? He watched in a daze while she dropped a business card on the cherry wood table.

“My address at the bookstore,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He cleared his throat to reply, but it was too late. She had already left.

Chapter Three

Alexa squirmed in her seat as the silence in the black BMW stretched between them. Her husband-to-be seemed just as uncomfortable, and chose to focus his energy into his MP3 player. She tried not to wince when he finally settled on Mozart. He actually enjoyed music without words. She almost shuddered again when she thought of sharing the same residence with him.

For. An. Entire. Year.

“Do you have any Black Eyed Peas?”

He looked puzzled by the question. “To eat?”

She held back a groan. “I’ll even settle for some of the old classics. Sinatra, Bennett, Martin.”

He remained silent.

“Eagles? Beatles? Just yell if any of these names sound familiar.”

His shoulders stiffened. “I know who they are. Would you prefer Beethoven?”

“Forget it.”

They veered back to silence with a piano background. Alexa knew they were both nervous as the miles to her parents’ house shortened. Playing the loving couple wouldn’t be easy when they couldn’t even carry on a two-minute conversation. She decided to try again.

“Maggie says you have a fish.”

That remark rewarded her with a chilling look. “Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

She blinked. “You didn’t even give it a name?”

“Did I commit a crime?”

“Don’t you know animals have feelings just like people?”

“I don’t like animals,” he said.

“Why? Are you afraid of them?”

“Of course not.”

“You were afraid of that snake we found in the woods. Remember how you wouldn’t get close, and you made some excuse to leave?”

The air in the car seemed to drop a few degrees. “I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t care. I told you I don’t like animals.”

She gave a snort, then settled back to silence. Cross another quality from her list. Earth Mother sucked. Alexa decided not to tell her future husband about the humane animal shelters. When they were overbooked, she always took the extra animals into her house until new spots opened up. Something told her Nick would have a fit. If he ever got up enough emotion to lose control.

The possibility intrigued her.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“Nothing. Do you remember everything we discussed?”

He gave a suffering sigh. “Yes. We went over all your family members in detail. I know names and general backgrounds. For God’s sakes, Alexa, I used to play at your house when we were younger.”

She snorted. “You only wanted my mother’s chocolate chip cookies. And you loved torturing me and your sister. Besides, that was years ago. You’ve had nothing to do with them over the past decade.” She tried hard to bite back the bitterness, but the ease with which Nick had shed his past without a glance back left her a bit pissed off. “Speaking of which, you never mention your parents. Have you seen your father lately?”

She wondered if it was possible to get frostbite from the chill he emanated. “No.”

She waited for more but nothing came. “How about your mom? Did she remarry?”

“No. I don’t want to talk about my parents. There’s no point.”

“Wonderful. What are we supposed to tell my family about them? They’ll ask.”

His words were clipped. “Tell them my father’s lounging in Mexico and my mother is off somewhere with her new boyfriend. Tell them whatever you want. They won’t be at the wedding anyway.”

She opened her mouth but his warning glare told her this conversation was over. Great. She just adored his chattiness.

Alexa pointed toward the upcoming street sign. “Here’s the turn for my parents’.”

Nick pulled into the circular driveway and cut the engine. They both studied the white Victorian house. Even from outside, the structure radiated friendly warmth from each classic pillar to the graceful wraparound porch. Weeping willow trees surrounded the edges of the sloping lawn almost as in protection. Large picture windows with black shutters dotted the front. Darkness now veiled the symptoms of neglect due to financial difficulties. It hid the peeling white paint on the columns, the cracked step at the top of the patio, the worn roof. She gave a deep sigh as the home of her childhood settled around her like a comforting blanket.

“Are we ready?” he asked.

She glanced at him. His face was shuttered, his eyes distant. He looked hip and casual in his khaki Dockers, white Calvin Klein T-shirt, and leather boat shoes. His sun-bleached hair was neatly tamed except for one stubborn curl over his brow. His chest filled the shirt out nicely. A little too nicely for her taste. Obviously, he lifted weights. She wondered if he had a washboard stomach, but the thought did bad things to her own tummy so she pushed away the idea and concentrated on their immediate problem.

“You look like you stepped in a pile of dog doo.”

His neutral expression slipped. The corner of his mouth kicked up an inch. “Hmmm, Maggie said you wrote poetry.”

“We’re supposed to be madly in love. If they suspect otherwise, I can’t marry you, and my mother would make my life a living hell. So put on a good act. Oh, and don’t be afraid to touch me. I promise I don’t have cooties.”

“I’m not afraid to—”

His breath hissed as she reached out and brushed the errant curl away from his eyes. The silky feel of his hair as it slid through her fingers pleased her. The shocked expression on his face tempted her to continue the caress by sliding the back of her hand down his cheek with one slow motion. His skin felt both smooth and rough to the touch.

“See? No big deal.”

His full lips tightened with what she figured was annoyance. Obviously, Nick Ryan looked at her not as a grown woman, but more of an asexual human being. Like an amoeba.

She flung open the door and cut off his response. “Show time.”

He muttered something under his breath and followed her.

They didn’t have to worry about ringing the doorbell. Her family streamed out the door one by one, until the front porch overflowed with her screeching sisters and two appraising males. Alexa had already called ahead to warn them of her engagement. She’d come up with a story about seeing Nick on the sly, a whirlwind romance, and an impulsive engagement. She played up their past so her parents believed they had always been in touch over the years as friends.

Nick tried to huddle back but her sisters refused to comply. Isabella and Genevieve launched themselves into his arms for a big hug, chattering at once.

“Congratulations!”

“Welcome to the family!”

“Izzy, I told you he’d turn out to be gorgeous. How awesome is this? Childhood friends and now husband and wife!”

“Did you set a wedding date?”

“Can I be in the bridal party?”

Nick looked as if he was about to vault over the porch and make his escape.

Alexa collapsed into laughter. She cut off her younger twin sisters by pulling them to her for a hug. “Stop scaring him, guys. I finally got a fiancé. Don’t ruin this for me.”

They giggled. A double vision of two sixteen-year-old girls with chocolate hair, navy eyes, and long skinny legs stood before her. One had braces, one didn’t. Alexa bet their teachers were grateful for the distinction. Her sisters were full of mischief and loved playing the switch game.

A demanding squeal pulled her attention away. She lifted up the blonde angel at her feet and covered her three-year-old niece with kisses. “Taylor, the Troublemaker,” she said, “meet Nick Ryan. Uncle Nick to you, squirt.”

Taylor looked him over with the careful attentiveness only a child exudes. Nick awaited her opinion with patience. Then her face broke in a sunny smile. “Hi, Nick!”

He smiled back. “Hi, Taylor.”

“Approval bestowed,” Alexa said. She urged Nick over. “Let me make the rest of the introductions. My twin sisters, Isabella and Genevieve, now all grown up and out of diapers.” She ignored their dual groans and grinned. “My sister-in-law, Gina, and you know my brother Lance and my parents. Everyone, this is Nick Ryan, my fiancé.”

She didn’t even stumble over the word.

Her mother grabbed Nick’s cheeks and gave him a smacking kiss. “Nicky, you’re all grown up.” She flung out her arms in welcome. “And you’re so handsome.”

Alexa wondered if that was a hint of red on Nick’s cheeks, then dismissed the thought.

He cleared his throat. “Umm, thank you, Mrs. McKenzie. It’s been a long time.”

Lance gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “Hey, Nick, haven’t seen you in centuries. Now I hear you’re going to be part of the family. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

Her father walked over and stuck out his hand. “Call me Jim,” he said. “I remember you used to torture my little girl on many occasions. I think her first official curse word came out with you in mind.”

“I think I still have that effect,” Nick said wryly.

Her father laughed. Gina broke out of Lance’s embrace to give him a big hug. “Now maybe I’ll have someone to even out the odds around here,” she said. Her green eyes sparkled. “You can get outnumbered in family meetings.”

Alexa laughed. “He’s still a man, Gina. Trust me, he’ll take Lance’s side every time.”

Lance grabbed his wife back and wrapped his arms around her waist. “The odds are turning, baby. I finally got another man in the house to battle all the PMS.”

Alexa punched his arm. Gina punched the other one.

Maria clucked her tongue. “Lancelot, men do not speak like that with ladies around.”

“What ladies?”

Maria swatted him on the backside. “Everyone inside. We’ll have a champagne toast, eat, and then have some good espresso.”

“Can I have champagne?”

“Me, too?”

Maria shook her head at the two girls begging at her feet. “You’ll have sparkling apple cider. I bought a bottle for this occasion.”

“Me too! Me too!”

Alexa smiled down at the shiny-eyed toddler in her arms. “Okay, squirt. Apple juice for you, too.” She placed her niece back on the ground and watched her race to the kitchen to get in on all the excitement. The embracing warmth of her clan settled around her like a fuzzy cloak, and fought with the nerves jumping in her belly.

Could she pull this off? Casting a love spell to meet a nameless, faceless man with money to bail out her family was one thing. Nick Ryan in the flesh for one full year was another. If her parents suspected she had made a marriage bargain to save the house, they’d never forgive her. Or themselves. With the steady stream of medical bills from his heart condition, family pride pushed them to refuse any financial help from others. Knowing their daughter sacrificed her integrity to bail them out would break their hearts.

Nick watched her with a strange expression on his face, as if trying to figure something out. Her fingers clenched to keep from reaching out to touch him. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

She watched him walk inside and tried not to feel hurt by his clipped words. He’d already warned her he didn’t like big families. She shouldn’t be childish by taking his actions so personally.

She stiffened her resolve and her chin and followed him. The hours passed with hearty Italian lasagna, fresh garlic bread with cheese and herbs, and a bottle of Chianti. By the time they retired to the living room for espresso and Sambuca, a nice buzz hummed in her blood, fueled by good food and good conversation. She glanced up at Nick as he settled himself next to her on the worn beige sofa at a careful distance.

Misery etched out his features.

He listened politely, laughed in the right places, and did a perfect job of looking like a gentleman. Except he wouldn’t look her in the eye, moved away when she tried to touch him, and wasn’t acting at all like the besotted fiancé he was supposed to be.

Jim McKenzie sipped his espresso with a casual demeanor. “So, Nick, tell me about your job.”

“Dad—”

“No, it’s okay.” Nick turned to face her father. “Dreamscape is an architectural firm that designs buildings in the Hudson Valley. We designed the Japanese restaurant at the top of the mountain in Suffern.”

Her father’s face lit up. “Wonderful place to eat. Maria always loved the gardens there.” He paused. “So, what do you think of Alexa’s paintings?”

She hid a wince. Oh, God, this was bad. Very bad. Her painting was a futile attempt at artistic expression, and most agreed they sucked. She painted more for her own therapy than to wow others. She cursed herself for not letting him pick her up at the apartment instead of her bookstore. As an alcoholic counselor, Jim honed in on weaknesses like a trained vulture and now he scented blood.

Nick kept the smile pasted on. “They’re fantastic. I’ve always told her she should hang them in a gallery.”

Jim’s crossed his arms. “You like them, huh? Which one do you like the most?”

“Dad—”

“The landscape one. Definitely puts you right at the scene.”

Panic flirted with her slight drunken buzz as her father caught the tension between them and stalked him like a predator. She gave Nick credit for trying but he was doomed before he began. The rest of her family knew the drill and watched the process begin.

“She doesn’t paint landscapes.” The words hung in the air like a cannon blast.

Nick’s smile never faltered. “She just tried her hand at landscapes. Darling, didn’t you tell them?”

She fought back panic. “No, sorry, Dad, I haven’t brought you up to speed. I’m painting mountain landscapes now.”

“You hate landscapes.”

“Not anymore,” she managed cheerily. “I have a new appreciation for landscapes since meeting an architect.”

Her comment only elicited a snort before he continued. “So, Nick, baseball fan or football?”

“Both.”

“Great season for the Giants, huh? I’m hoping for another New York Super Bowl. Hey, have you read Alexa’s new poem?”

“Which one?”

“The one about the rainstorm.”

“Oh, yes. I thought it was wonderful.”

“She never wrote a poem about a rainstorm. She writes about experiences in life relating to love or loss. She’s never written a nature poem, just as she’s never painted a landscape.”

Alexa chugged the rest of her Sambuca, ignored the espresso, and hoped the liquor got her through the evening. “Umm, Dad, I just wrote one about a rainstorm.”