The Temporary Mrs. King (3 page)

“Are you listening to me?”

“What?” He grinned, grateful for the distraction. “Sure. Construction. Can't get enough of that.”

She frowned and huffed out a breath. “I'm just saying that this could be a good deal for all of us, Sean. You get the land, the island gets a hotel that will create jobs and bring in money to the locals—”

“And you get your trust fund.”

“Yes.” She picked up her wineglass and took the last sip. When she'd finished, she asked, “Well. What do you say? Do we have a deal? Will you marry me?”

Those four words sent an instinctive chill down his
spine, but Sean ignored it. Sure, he had vowed to never again make the mistake of getting married. But this was different.

The first time he had said “I do,” he got screwed, in more ways than one. This time, he would get something out of the deal beyond a quickie divorce. This time, he would be the one in charge. The one to say when it was over. The one to walk away.

And this time, his heart wouldn't be involved.

Nodding, he held out one hand to her. “I think you've got a deal.”

That smile of hers widened and nearly took his breath away. She took his hand and, just like their first touch hours ago, the instant their palms met, there was a quick flash of heat that seemed to zing straight up his arm to bounce around his chest like a crazed ping-pong ball. Sean had been hoping to hell he had imagined that sizzle between them. But if anything, it was stronger this time around. Damn it. If she felt it, she didn't show it, so neither did Sean. He willed his body into submission and fought against an attraction that was more powerful than he'd expected.

“There's just one more thing,” she said as she pulled her hand free of his.

Sean laughed. “You've already swept me off my feet,” he said wryly. “What's left?”

“No sex.”

Well,
that
got his attention. He stared at her for a long minute until she finally shifted her gaze from his nervously.

This was an entirely new experience for Sean. Most women were downright
eager
to get close to him. Hell, he usually had to fend off women trying to fling themselves into his bed. He'd turned down a lovely woman only an
hour ago in the hotel bar. But her blond hair and brown eyes hadn't done a thing for him since he had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Melinda Stanford.

The woman who wanted to marry him—just not sleep with him.

He stared her down and she didn't flinch. That steady blue gaze never wavered.

What was going on? He wasn't imagining the sizzle of heat that leapt between them whenever they touched. He hadn't missed the flash of something interested in her eyes. And he for damn sure wasn't wrong about his own desire for the woman who had turned this trip upside down inside of a few hours. If he'd met her somewhere else, he would have tried to seduce her into a long weekend—and he had no doubt he would have succeeded.

So what was the problem?

“No sex.”

“That's right.” She took a long breath and looked back into his eyes. “Why complicate things? This is a business arrangement, after all. It's not a
real
marriage, so I don't see why we should…”

“Have sex,” he finished for her, astonishment clear in his voice.

“Exactly.”

“This just gets better and better,” he murmured.

“It's only for two months,” she pointed out, managing to sound both impatient and pained all at the same time. “Surely that won't kill you.”

“I think I can manage to hang on,” he said, though silently he admitted that it wouldn't be a party. He already wanted her and he'd only known her for a few hours. Being married to her, with her all the time…how much worse was this going to get over two months?

Maybe he should just make a call to Rico and find out if
he was willing to put his hotel somewhere else. A moment later, though, he dismissed the idea. It was Tesoro or not at all. The island was perfect for their needs, damn it.

The island had a mystique with people. The hotel was old-school deluxe, but it was small and couldn't support many guests. Since the island was privately held, anyone wanting to do business on Tesoro had to go through Walter Stanford. And he was a man who liked his privacy.

Which would be perfect for the exclusive resort the Kings were planning. The mega-wealthy would come here to play on the beach and enjoy the high life away from throngs of tourists and, most especially, paparazzi.

It was all perfect.

Except for the whole marriage thing.

“And,” she said, dragging his attention back to her. “There's
more
?” he asked with a short laugh. “What else is there? Got a dungeon you want to shut me up in? Or maybe you want me living on bread and water for a couple months?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she said.

“Oh,
I'm
being ridiculous.” He shook his head and gave her an almost admiring glance. “You want us to be married. Living together. Putting on a ‘colorful truth' for your grandfather—but none of the fun stuff.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and he knew for a fact that she was feeling what he was. So just how long would she last with this little celibacy rule? As that thought wandered through his mind, Sean smiled to himself. This, he thought, could get very interesting.

“This isn't about fun—”

“Clearly,” he agreed.

Her lips thinned and her mouth worked as if words were trying to get out, but she refused to let them. Finally, though, she took a breath and said patiently, “It's a small
island, Sean. So you won't be able to sleep with anyone else, either. My grandfather would find out and this whole thing would be over before it began.”

Sean stiffened at the insinuation. Sitting up straight, he laid both hands on the tabletop and leaned in toward her. Even riding that quick whip of anger, he kept his voice down. His gaze bored into hers as he said, “I. Don't. Cheat. When I give my word, I keep it.”

Their gazes locked for several long seconds before she finally nodded. “I'm sorry. I just wanted to be clear about everything.”

He leaned back in his chair, gritting his teeth against the bubble of frustration inside him. “Fine. We're clear.”

“And we still have a deal?”

He looked into those blue eyes of hers again and told himself this was surely a mistake. He felt it right down to his bones. But damned if Sean could see another way for him to get what he wanted.

“Yeah,” he said. “We have a deal.”

He couldn't believe he was going to do this. Couldn't believe he was going to get married. Again. And this one wouldn't be any more real than the first one.

At least this time though, he'd know going in that the marriage would mean nothing.

W
alter Stanford was somewhere in his seventies, but his sharp blue eyes didn't miss much. He was tall, with snowy white hair, a hard jaw and the bearing of a much younger man. He stood behind the wide desk in his library and looked at Sean with a cool, dispassionate eye.

Sean met the older man stare for stare, never blinking. He knew how to run a negotiation and knew all too well that the first man who spoke, lost power. So he kept quiet and waited for the older man to say something.

Walter Stanford's suite took up half of the entire top floor of the hotel, with Melinda's private quarters in the other half. It was old-world elegant, again with just a touch of shabbiness. As if the place had seen better times. Sean had to wonder if the old man was as wealthy as rumor suggested.

He had noticed a couple of telltale water marks on the ceiling, proof of a leaky roof that hadn't been fixed in
time. And there were other things too. Nothing over the top, he thought, just tiny warning flags. Scars on the wood floors, chipped molding, window casements where the plaster had crumbled.

Of course, none of that proved anything. All it might mean was that Walter Stanford was simply too busy or too uninterested to make the dozens of minor repairs buildings always required. Or, he thought, it could mean that the old man needed this hotel deal far more than he wanted the Kings to know.

Sean smiled to himself, but kept his expression carefully neutral.

“You've met my granddaughter,” Walter said, taking a seat in the bloodred desk chair.

“Yes. She seems…nice,” he offered, enjoying using her own word.

The three of them had spent the last twenty minutes chatting and talking about the island. Melinda had left the room just a moment ago and, Sean thought, Walter wasn't wasting any time.

“Let me be frank,” the older man said, setting his elbows on the desktop and steepling his fingers. “You want to build a hotel on my island. I want my granddaughter happy.”

Sean took a seat in the chair opposite the desk and set one foot atop the other knee and prepared to play dumb. “What's one have to do with the other?”

Walter gave him a smile and a wink. “You're single. Wealthy. Reasonably good-looking.”

Wryly, Sean said, “Thank you.”

Tucking his fingertips beneath his chin, Walter continued. “I believe in laying my cards out on the table, how about you?”

“Always best to know what the other man's holding.”

“Excellent. Then let's get down to business. I want you to marry my granddaughter. Once you've done that, the land is yours.”

If Melinda hadn't prepared him for this yesterday, Sean thought, he would have fallen out of his chair. Even prepared, even with a deal already in place, he was a little surprised. Amazing to think that in the twenty-first century, women were still being bartered. Of course,
this
woman had done the bartering herself and damned if she hadn't negotiated a hell of a deal.

Walter was waiting for an answer and Sean let him wait. His brain raced with the implications of what he was about to agree to. Getting married, even temporarily, was a huge step. He didn't want to, but he had spent the better part of last night lying awake trying to come up with a different way to get what he wanted—and he'd come up empty.

Just as, no doubt, Melinda had known he would.

The Stanfords, both of them, were stubborn enough to be Kings.

Tapping his fingers against his knee, Sean asked, “How does Melinda feel about this?”

Walter frowned briefly. “She understands. It's good for her. Good for the family. Good for the island.”

Unexpectedly, a ripple of anger washed through Sean. If Melinda hadn't stepped up to chart her own course and make her own deal with Sean, she would have been no more than a bound sacrifice, stretched out across the Stanford altar.

Good for the island
.

Who did things like that now?

Frowning, Sean watched the older man and tried to read his eyes. But the old guy must have been a hell of a poker player back in the day. His expression gave away nothing.

“Well?” The older man dropped both hands to the black blotter on his desk. “What do you say?”

There was a lot he should say, Sean thought. He should tell the old man that his granddaughter was worth more than a bargaining chip to be used in a deal. Hell, a couple of hours spent with her had told Sean that much. He should say that Melinda had a sharp mind and a clever way of driving a bargain. He should tell both of the Stanfords to go to hell and take their island with them.

He'd love to tell him that his granddaughter was filling up his mind with tempting thoughts that were destined to go nowhere. That one touch of her hand was enough to set off fires inside him that were still burning hours later.

But he couldn't tell him that either, so Sean would say nothing about any of it.

“Agreed,” he heard himself say and saw the flicker of surprise in the old man's eyes. Apparently, he couldn't disguise everything he was feeling. Or didn't care to.

“Really. That easily?” He leaned back in his chair and the springs creaked. “You'll forgive me, but I'm curious as to your quick acceptance.”

Sean smiled. “Changing your mind already?”

“Not at all.” Walter spread his hands wide. “I only thought it would take more to convince you.”

“Melinda's a beautiful woman,” he said, remembering the flash of her blue eyes as she looked at him before leaving the room a few minutes ago.

“She is—but there's more to her than her beauty,” her grandfather pointed out.

“I'm sure you're right,” Sean agreed, though he already knew firsthand just what a clever mind Melinda had. “Once we're married, we'll have plenty of time to find out all about each other.”

“Hmm…”

“I assume you've already checked me out,” Sean said. Knowing Melinda had researched him assured Sean that her grandfather had done so as well.

“I have.”

Sean nodded. “You made the offer. I accepted. End of story.”

Walter was watching him as if waiting for Sean to change his mind. Sean fought another smile. The man had wheeled and dealed his granddaughter to a stranger and now that the stranger had agreed, the old man was having second thoughts? Too late for that. They had a deal and the Kings would soon be arriving to get the project underway.

Pushing up from his chair, Sean stretched out his right hand and said, “I'll just go tell my bride the good news. Then I'll phone my brothers and let them know we can get started on the hotel right away.”

Walter stood up too, took Sean's hand and shook it. When he released him again, the older man said, “You can start construction the day after the wedding.”

Both of Sean's eyebrows went up. “Don't trust me to go through with it?”

“If I didn't trust you,” Walter said softly, “you wouldn't be marrying my granddaughter. Let's just say I prefer to have all of my bases covered.”

“Fine,” Sean agreed with a nod. “I'll have our lawyers fax you the paperwork this afternoon.”

“And
my
lawyer will have a contract for you to sign as well.”

Sean's gaze locked with the older man's and for just an instant, there was a silent conversation between them. Two men, each of them powerful, each of them walking into this bargain with their eyes wide open and each of them thinking about the woman at the center of it all.

Hope you know what you're starting here
.

You and my granddaughter will work out fine
.

If that's what the old guy believed, Sean thought grimly, then he was way off base. And for just an instant, he felt guilty about tricking Walter Stanford. Then he remembered it hadn't been his idea and if Melinda was comfortable with this setup, then why should he mind?

Sean smiled. “I'll go see Melinda and tell her it's settled.”

“Fine, fine,” Walter told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Perhaps you could join me later for a private dinner where we can discuss your plans for the future? Shall we say seven? Here, in my suite?”

Sean eyed the older man. “Sure, I'll see you later, then. Meanwhile, I'm guessing you'll handle all the details of the wedding?”

Walter nodded. “By the end of the week, you'll be a married man.”

End of the week.

That rang a gong with the tone of finality inside his head. But Sean ignored it. He'd made his decision, and he wouldn't go back on it now.

“Melinda's a strong woman with a good heart. See that you remember that.”

“I will.” Sean left the room then, in search of the ‘goodhearted' bride who drove a bargain like no one else he had ever known.

 

The next morning was a disaster.

Sean stared at his computer screen, waiting for his phone call to go through. He caught his own reflection staring back at him and winced. Even in the hazy mirror of the screen, he looked like death. That would teach him
to drink brandy with an old man who probably had the stuff flowing through his veins.

But Stanford had wanted to toast their bargain. Since this was supposed to be real, Sean hadn't been able to think of a reason not to. Hours later, after listening to stories of island life and Melinda's childhood, all washed down with glass after glass of expensive brandy, Sean had staggered to his room.

He'd lain awake, waiting for the room to stop spinning before finally falling asleep. Then he'd been chased in his dreams by a wildly laughing Stanford waving a giant brandy bottle at him while Melinda threw bouquet after bouquet at his head.

“Don't even want that dream analyzed,” he murmured.

All he really wanted at the moment was to quiet the jackhammers behind his eyes. He coughed and his head almost exploded. Moaning softly, he was reaching for a bottle of aspirin when his brother Rafe's face came up on the screen.

“Sean—” He paused and frowned. “Damn. You look like hell.”

Thanks to videophone conferencing, there was no disguising his hangover. For the first time in his life, Sean cursed technology. “Yeah, thanks Rafe. Nice to see you, too.”

His brother's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you hung over?”

“Brilliant observation,” Sean said tightly as he struggled with the cap on the aspirin bottle. Childproof, okay. But did they have to seal the damn thing as if it contained the nuclear codes for Armageddon?

“Hard to miss, what with the dark circles under your eyes and the way you're cringing in the sunlight like a vampire away from his crypt.”

God, why hadn't he waited to call until later? Or at least closed the drapes? Well, he knew why he hadn't done that. It had just seemed too taxing at the time.

“What's going on?” Rafe asked. “Did you get the deal?”

“The deal. About that…”

“Damn it, Sean,” Rafe shouted.

“Can you dial it down a notch or two?” Sean rubbed at the spot between his eyes even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. He finally managed to get the aspirin bottle open and tapped two tablets onto his palm. Then he tapped out two more. Desperate times.

He washed them all down with a long gulp of water from the bottle on his desk and prayed they were miracle aspirins, about to kick in and restore him to health in the next thirty seconds.

No luck.

Rafe grumbled, took a breath and said, “Fine. I'm calm. Now tell me what's going on?”

“It's a long story,” Sean said, rubbing his eyes. “And I'd rather tell it only once. Is Lucas in the office?”

“That doesn't sound good,” Rafe muttered, “but yeah. He's here.” Reaching to one side of his desk, he hit a button and said, “Marie, get Lucas in here, will you? Thanks.”

“Marie? New assistant?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” Rafe admitted. “Katie insisted I hire somebody to help me so I can get home in time for dinner every night.”

His brother might sound like he was complaining, but Sean knew how nuts about his wife Rafe really was. And who could blame him? Rafe could be a pain in the ass at times, but his wife was a peach. Not to mention, she made the best cookies in the known universe.

“How's Katie?” Sean managed to ask.

“She's great,” Rafe said and a soft smile curved his
mouth. Amazing the changes Katie had made to the formerly surly Rafe King. “She says I should tell you she's saving a batch of her pistachio chocolate mint cookies for you.”

Sean swallowed hard. Ordinarily, that would have been a nice surprise. At the moment though, it felt like live snakes were writhing in his belly. Still, it was the thought that counted. “Tell her thanks.”

Rafe frowned at Sean's less than enthusiastic reply, then waved Lucas over when he came into the room. In a second or two, Lucas was sitting beside Rafe so that both of them could be seen.

“Damn,” Lucas said, pulling his head back in shock. “You look like hell.”

Sean sighed. “That's the consensus. How's the baby?”

“Danny's great,” Lucas said, grinning. “I swear he said Daddy this morning.”

Sean laughed and was rewarded with another jolt of pain. Since his new nephew was barely three months old, that wasn't likely. But Lucas was convinced his son was a genius. And who was Sean to argue?

“On topic, guys? Are you out there partying with some blonde when you should be doing business?” Rafe asked.

“Because the blondes can wait until we get the damn land,” Lucas put in.

“He doesn't need to be dating
any
blondes when he's there to work,” Rafe argued.

“I agree, but he's not dead and he's not married, Rafe. God, I thought Katie had lightened you up a little.”

“I don't
need
lightening up.”

His brothers' voices were getting louder and the pain in Sean's head just kept growing. He tried to tune out the argument taking place back in Long Beach, California. But Kings were hard to ignore. Even for one of the family.