The Temporary Mrs. King (5 page)

But Sean paid no attention to the ordinary offerings,
instead walking directly to a case where the blue-green stones glittered behind a sheen of glass.

An older man with gray hair and a permanent squint—probably from staring into jewelry loupes for too many years—stepped up with a smile. “You must be Sean King.”

Sean started. “Word travels fast.”

The man gave an eloquent shrug. “It's a small island and the fact that you and Melinda Stanford are getting married is big news.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be.” No paparazzi on the island, but apparently the gossips were hard at work anyway. Couldn't really blame people for talking though. Everyone here knew Melinda. Knew the Stanfords. Of course they would be interested in a surprise wedding.

Offering his right hand, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

“And you, Mr. King. I'm James Noble, and this is my shop.”

“You have some pretty things,” Sean told him and watched as pleasure lit the older man's eyes. “And since you know about the wedding, you'll know I'm going to need a ring.”

An even wider smile greeted that statement. “Of course. What can I show you?”

“Well,” Sean said, going into a squat in front of the display case. “I really like these blue-green stones. They're…different.”

And he already knew they looked great on Melinda. But then, he admitted silently, what
wouldn't
look good on her? She was beautiful and as coolly elegant as the old hotel where she lived. She walked, and he was captivated by the sway of her hips. She smiled, and he thought about kissing her. She was…taking up way too many of his thoughts, Sean thought with a frown.

“They certainly are,” James told him. “The Tesoro
Topaz is found only on this island, and we are the only shop to carry it.”

“Tesoro Topaz?” Sean asked, straightening up as James lifted a white velvet tray out of the case and laid it atop the glass counter.

As Sean took a closer look, the man talked. “The stone is mined here, on the island. Apparently formed millennia ago by volcanic activity. As to why the stone is found only here, I believe it has something to do with the chemical makeup of our lovely island and how it reacted to those now long-dead volcanoes.”

Sean looked up at the man and smiled. “Sounds like you've given that speech before.”

The man relaxed a bit and returned the smile. “Often,” he agreed. “But honestly, most people only care about the stone itself, not how it was formed.”

“The stone is pretty, but the craftsmanship of this ring is amazing,” Sean said, picking up a ring that had several of the topazes set into a gold band that was etched and detailed so beautifully, it almost looked like lace.

“Ah, yes.” James nodded. “The artist is local, and her work is truly breathtaking. Her designs are always in demand.”

“I can see why,” Sean told him, and took a closer look at the ring. It was small, but then Melinda's fingers were long and narrow. It would probably fit and if it didn't, she could bring it back in here and the artist could size it for her. “I'll take this one.”

James gave him a smile and nodded. “I think Melinda will be pleased with your choice.”

“Hope so,” Sean told him.

“I'll just give it a final polish and box it for you.” He was still smiling, but Sean dismissed that as a shopkeeper's pleasure in making a sale.

“That'd be great, thanks.” Sean pulled out his wallet and handed over his credit card. “I've got to say I'm a little surprised at the price though. Not that I'm complaining, but you could probably get a lot more for that kind of craftsmanship.”

James shrugged again and took out a polishing cloth. “We're a small island with a limited supply of customers.”

Sean leaned both hands on the glass case and watched the man's reaction as he asked, “How would you like it if there were more tourists coming to the island?”

“I know about the hotel you're planning to build, if that's what you're asking,” James said with a wink.

Sean grinned. “Island gossip chain?”

“Absolutely,” the man told him. “You'll find that nothing stays a secret for long on Tesoro.”

“Okay,” Sean said with a nod. “So, how do you feel about it?”

“Cautiously optimistic,” the man said. “I've always agreed with Walter on his no cruise ship stance.” He shuddered a little as he said, “I don't like the idea of Tesoro being overrun with thousands of people. But a luxury resort is something different, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it is. Fewer people,” Sean said. “Fewer disruptions and a lighter impact on the environment.”

“It will still be change,” James told him, tucking the ring into a cream-colored velvet box and snapping the lid closed, “but not all change is bad.”

“I think you'll be pleased,” Sean told him.

“I hope so,” James said and rang up the sale. When he was finished, he gave Sean his receipt and said with a grin, “I hope Melinda likes the ring.”

“Thanks.” Sean's fist closed over the small box. “I'm sure I'll be seeing you around.”

“Absolutely. I'll be at the wedding.”

Chuckling, Sean nodded and headed for the door. “Along with everyone else on the island?”

“Exactly.”

Sean stepped outside, still smiling ruefully. Of course every resident of Tesoro would be at the wedding. The place was so small, they probably all thought of each other as family. The island was a world away from his everyday life. In California, there were so many people, so much…
noise
, a man could hardly hear himself think. He had always liked that—or at least, he had been comfortable with it. Where he lived, in Sunset Beach, he didn't know his neighbors more than to exchange a nod with them in passing. His brothers were his best friends, and the women he spent time with came and went practically unnoticed.

Once, he had wanted more. The kind of “connections” most people searched for. But he'd learned his lesson in a hurry and had backed off immediately after that fiasco, wrapping himself in layers of insulation—using wit and charm to keep deeper emotions at bay.

Now, he was on an island where there was no escaping the kind of closeness he didn't feel comfortable with—and he was about to marry into it.

The ring in his pocket felt heavy enough to be an anchor. Or a ball and chain, he thought grimly. Images of Melinda rose up in his mind again as easily as if they had been etched there permanently. He couldn't escape thoughts of her. Couldn't escape the growl of hunger his body felt. Her eyes, her smile, her quiet determination to have things go her way.

He smiled faintly at that thought. If there was one thing a King could understand—especially, he told himself,
this
King, it was determination. Wanting to win. That didn't mean the next two months were going to be easy though. He knew already that he wanted her. Pretending to have
a wife and not being able to touch her was going to make him nuts.

He pulled in a deep breath of the ocean air and told himself it didn't matter. He'd survive. Kings
always
survived.

A couple of months from now, he'd be a free man again.

And Melinda Stanford, beauty, brains and incredible sensuality notwithstanding, would be nothing more than a memory.

T
he crowd applauded.

Melinda hardly heard them. Instead, she stared up into the eyes of her
husband
and saw a reluctant humor there, shining down at her.

Something inside her warmed and raced through her veins. His hand holding hers, his right arm wrapped around her waist, he held her close enough that Melinda could feel the steady beat of his heart.

Music soared out around them, an old Ella Fitzgerald tune and that smoky, sexy voice seemed to swell in the air. Melinda's eyes filled with a sudden rush of tears. She could hardly believe it was done. She was married.

“Brides don't cry,” Sean whispered.

“I know,” she said, blinking her tears back determinedly. “It's just…”

“Weird?” he offered, steering her into a tight turn with practiced ease.

“Well, yes.” Her gaze fixed on him, she caught snatches of the crowd in her peripheral vision, but they were hardly more than a blur of color.

“I hear that,” he said, smiling down at her. “But your grandfather looks happy.”

She turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Walter, standing on the sidelines, beaming at the dancing couple.

“He does, doesn't he?” A narrow thread of guilt snaked its way through her. She'd made him happy by lying to him. And in the next instant, she imagined his face two months from now when she had to tell him she was getting a divorce. The image wasn't a pleasant one and she closed her eyes in an effort to shut it out.

“Regrets already?” Sean asked.

She considered lying to him, too, but what would be the point? “A few,” she admitted. “You?”

“A few,” he agreed with a nod. Then his arm around her waist tightened further, pressing her even closer.

It wasn't only the beat of his heart she could feel now, Melinda realized. As he held her tightly to him, she felt the unmistakably hard proof of what he was feeling. Her gaze swept up to meet his again.

He shrugged and gave her a tight smile. “My regrets are a little more personal.”

No sex.

Her own body sizzled a bit as he pulled her tightly enough to him that she felt the heavy length of his arousal pushing at her. Melinda's response was instant and instinctive. Damp heat centered at her core and a pulsing ache settled deep inside her. If he noticed her reaction, he didn't let it show, merely continuing their dance smoothly.

While the song played on, Melinda's mind went back over the brief ceremony on the patio of the Stanford hotel.
She had walked down a short, flower-strewn aisle on the arm of her beaming grandfather, and her gaze had locked on Sean. He wore a gray suit, with a crisp white shirt and a dark red tie. His gaze had heated as he watched her approach and she had felt just a small thrill of pleasure at the look in his eyes.

What woman wouldn't have, she'd asked herself? Sean King was all male and seeing raw appreciation in his gaze had started a slow burn inside her that was still smoldering. He was gorgeous, her new husband. And the way he held her now almost made her want to rethink that no-sex pledge she had pushed him into.

But the moment that thought appeared, she banished it. In her mind, she replaced Sean's image with that of Steven, the man who should have been her husband. The man she had loved until the day he died in a tragic car accident. This day should have been about love. Not business. Not a merger.

“You're frowning,” Sean told her, dipping his head closer to hers. “Our guests will wonder what I said to upset you.”

“What?” She looked up into his lake-blue eyes and fought past the tumult going on inside her.

The song seemed to go and on. Or, she wondered, were these feelings and this hushed conversation really taking no time at all?

“Smile, Melinda. We're married. You won. You've got everything you wanted.”

“Not everything,” she said softly as the song swelled even higher around them.

“So what's missing?”

His palm splayed against her back and heat from his body slid into hers, fanning those low flames inside her. Flames from a fire that she hadn't expected. Or wanted.

“Nothing,” she said quietly, unwilling to bring up Steven to the man she had just married. “It's nothing.”

“Okay…so then smile a little or people will wonder why you married me.”

She chuckled as she knew he'd meant her to and the moment passed. She looked at the ring on her left hand and wiggled her ring finger to make the light sparkle off the gemstones. “I love my ring,” she said.

“I'm glad.” He nodded and added, “I saw it in a jewelry shop in town. It's the same stone as the earrings I saw you wearing.”

“Tesoro Topaz,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah.” He turned her again, holding her close as Ella's voice soared. “I thought it was appropriate.”

“It's perfect,” Melinda assured him with a smile.

“Good. That's good.” The music faded away and ended with a sigh as Sean turned her into one last, fast spin that left her breathless. Melinda was caught by his eyes as he stared down at her. She felt her own heartbeat speeding out of control as he gave her a slow smile that curved one corner of his mouth into a flirtatious grin.

The crowd applauded again, but neither of them acknowledged the thunderous noise. Instead they were caught on the empty dance floor, gazes locked.

Intimate strangers.

“A kiss!” Someone in the crowd shouted.

An instant later, that cry was repeated over and over again until it was a chant that filled the ballroom of the Stanford hotel, ringing off the punched tin ceiling and bouncing off the paneled walls.

“We don't have to,” Melinda said, her voice swallowed by the noisy urging of their guests.

“Of course we do,” Sean said, that smile never wavering. “You want this to look real, right?”

“Yes…but we already kissed at the end of the ceremony.”

“That was a dignified peck, not a
kiss
,” he said and bent his head to hers. “If we want this to look good then we've got to make this one count—”

Melinda closed her eyes as her new husband swept her into a romantic dip, then covered her mouth with his. A wash of heat, delicious, soul-searing fire, enveloped her in an instant. She hadn't expected
this
. It was just a kiss. And yet, it was so much more.

He took her thoroughly, and Melinda was only vaguely aware of the watching crowd cheering. How could she pay attention to anything else when every square inch of her body was electrified? His tongue tangled with hers and she arched into him, letting him—no—
helping
him to devour her.

It didn't seem to matter that she wasn't in love. Didn't matter that she had never planned on kissing her new husband. All that
did
matter was what he was doing to her. The sensations crashing through her body, her mind.

She'd never known anything like this before. His arms tightened around her until she could hardly draw a breath and she didn't care. She was much too busy trying to make sense of this. How could it happen? How could she feel these sensations blasting through her when she hardly knew him? When he wasn't
Steven
?

That name reverberating in her mind was enough to douse the flames within. She broke the kiss, tearing her head back to stare up at him through astonished eyes. It was small comfort to see the same shock in his eyes she knew was written in her own.

“Now
that
was a wedding kiss!” Her grandfather's voice bellowed out over the others.

In response, Sean eased her up onto her feet. He looked
away from her, but with one smooth move wrapped one arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

His stance was casual, his smile easy, but Melinda felt the rapid thud of his heartbeat and knew he had experienced everything she had during that kiss. Which meant…what?

He had already agreed to the no-sex clause in their bargain. Would he think that one amazing kiss would change her mind?

Would
it change her mind?

No. It wouldn't.

She shivered a little as Sean ran his hand up and down her bare arm, but she smiled in spite of everything. Because he had been right. It was important to play their parts.

“We'd like to thank you all for being with us today,” Sean said, his voice like chocolate, rich and dark. “I know it means a lot to Melinda and to Walter to have you all here.”

Another rousing cheer followed that little speech and as the music jumped into a rock and roll beat, Walter stepped out of the crowd and walked toward them. First, he offered his hand to Sean.

“Well said,” he acknowledged with a shake and a nod. Then the older man turned to Melinda. “You are as lovely a bride as your mother was.”

Tears filled her eyes again as she hugged her grandfather and breathed in his familiar scent of pipe tobacco and peppermint. He was the reason for this pretense and yet, she couldn't find it in her heart to blame him. He was doing what he thought best, just as he always had. Melinda only hoped that when this was all over, he would accept that she wouldn't be marrying again.

“I love you,” she whispered and felt him drop a kiss to the top of her head.

“And I you. Now…why don't the two of you go and enjoy your party?” One last squeeze and he left her, strolling toward the corner of the grand ballroom where a few of his closest friends waited.

“He really is something else,” Sean muttered.

Melinda looked up at him, ready to defend her grandfather—then she saw it wasn't necessary. Sean must have read the battle-ready light in her eyes though because he grinned.

“No offense intended,” he said, holding up both hands in surrender. “I mean it. Might not like how he gets things done, but you've got to admire a man who goes after what he wants and doesn't take no for an answer.”

In spite of her inner turmoil, Melinda smiled. “Of course you would admire him. You're a lot like him.”

Both black eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“I can live with that,” he told her, then steered her off the dance floor before they were crushed by the expanding crowd. Tucking her hand through his arm, he walked with her to a set of French doors and then stepped outside.

The cool breeze wafted over them both and Melinda drew her first easy breath in hours. It was good to get away from everyone for awhile. She looked back over her shoulder and watched all of the wedding guests dancing and laughing, and felt like an outsider at her own wedding.

“You're doing it again,” Sean said softly.

“What?”

His strong, tanned fingers cupped her chin and gently turned her face to his. “Wasting time on regrets.”

“That's not it.”

“Then what?”

She took a breath, stepped free of him and walked to the edge of the balcony. On the other side of the railing, soft, outdoor lighting made golden puddles in the garden. The heavy scent of jasmine drifted to them and overhead, the moon was bright, dazzling in the sky. “I just thought that when I got married…”

“You'd be in love?”

She looked at him. “Well, yes.”

“Understandable,” he allowed and leaned one hip against the stone balustrade. “And you still can one day.”

“No, this is it for me,” she said with a shake of her head. “I'm not looking for love or romance. So, no more weddings.”

“Funny,” he murmured, “I said that once.”

Surprised, she looked at him. “You were married before?”

Sean frowned and wished he could bite back those words. He hadn't meant to mention that first miserable marriage. Hell, he had never spoken of it—until now at precisely the wrong moment. What did that say? Was it a Freudian slip? Great. Now he was going to psychoanalyze himself. Good times.

Meanwhile, his new wife was staring up at him, waiting for an explanation, and he knew damn well he wasn't going to give her one.

Which would only make her more determined to uncover his secrets. One thing you could depend on with a woman, he mused silently, they had ways of worming information out of a man and they didn't usually give up until they'd succeeded.

Maybe he could avoid that by giving her a little without spilling his guts.

Shrugging, he said only, “It didn't take.”

“So you're divorced.”

“Not anymore,” he said, giving her that half smile again. “As of now, I'm a married man.”

Her mouth curved slightly in response, but the action never reached her eyes. “Yes. Married.”

He turned and looked out at the garden and the moonlit ocean beyond. The soft wind ruffled his hair and teased at the edges of his jacket. “Don't sound as happy about our bargain as I thought you'd be.

“It's complicated.”

“Didn't taste complicated to me,” he said, turning his head to look at her.

Dam n she was beautiful. He had thought that when he saw her walking down the aisle toward him that he would want to bolt. Instead, he'd stood there as if nailed to the floor. Unable to look away from the picture she made. That black hair falling over bare skin. The stark white gown that clung to her curves only to spill down around her legs in sensuous folds of silk. The swell of her breasts with each breath she took and the sheer, steely determination in her clear blue eyes. All of it had seemed
designed
to seduce him into staying right where he was—the perfect bridegroom looking at his future.

Their audience had sighed with appreciation when Melinda slid her hand into his and Sean could still feel the charge of heat he had felt when their palms brushed. Then dancing with her,
kissing
her had opened up a whole new world of hunger inside him and he was still trying to deal with the ramifications.