Wife by Wednesday (4 page)

“You’re late,” he said, his voice teasing.

She opened her mouth doing her best guppy impersonation, and then closed it. “Touché.”

He smiled. “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.” Blake waited until she slid into the booth before reaching for the wine sitting in an ice bucket beside him.

She watched him pour the pale liquid into a stemmed glass and did her best not to stare. “Are we celebrating?”

“Perhaps,” he said as he shifted the bottle over to his glass.

She wanted to rush and ask him whom on her list he approved of. Of course, he hadn’t met the women yet, and she sincerely doubted he’d chosen one.

Blake lifted his glass, and waited until she joined him in a toast. “To a successful business relationship.”

A shiver of uncertainty flittered over her hand as she reached for her wine. The way Blake said relationship didn’t sit well. After clicking her glass with his, and sipping the wine, Samantha placed her hands in her lap to hide the slight tremor that would give away her feelings.

“I hope your drive wasn’t awful.”

Okay, so they weren’t going to start with business as she’d have liked. Instead of pushing him, she allowed the casual conversation to continue. “PCH is always difficult to traverse at dinner time.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me here.”

“I’m surprised you picked this location. I’d think that a business dinner would be in a place less formal.” Less romantic, she wanted to add.

Blake relaxed into the booth. His sinfully handsome features made it nearly impossible to concentrate on the reason she was sitting across from him. It was entirely too easy to wade into his amazing grey eyes and fall into the warmth of his smile.

“It’s against my nature to invite a beautiful woman to a bar for cocktails.”

Oh, boy, time to swing this train around. Samantha knew she wasn’t beautiful, attractive maybe, but the kind of beauty this man was drawn to was way out of Samantha’s league. “You’re charming, Mr. Harrison, but you’re wasting it on me. I take it you’ve had an opportunity to look at the portfolios my assistant faxed over.”

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t say a word. Samantha swallowed and clutched her hands together in her lap. Instead of running from his eyes, she met them head on and kept her lips sealed.

It took a waiter stepping to the table to break the tension. The twenty-something server detailed the chef specials while Samantha picked up her menu. This was her client, and etiquette dictated that she be the one to pick up the bill, even if the restaurant was out of her budget. She settled on the swordfish and a small dinner salad and did her best to ignore the prices on the menu. She’d put it on her credit card, and hope Mr. Harrison’s check would clear before it came due.

When left alone, he asked, “Tell me, Samantha… why would I be wasting my charm on you?”

He pronounced her name like a lover’s caress, smooth and silky. She heard a hint of an English accent. An accent she thought would be thick on his tongue because of his title.

“We’re here to discuss your pending marriage to one of the three women from my service,” she reminded him. “I’m not sure how charming
me
can work to any advantage for
you
.”

“Does everything have to have an angle?”

“In business, yes.” In her world anyway.

“What about in your personal life?” He sat forward, his jacket opened as he did and she noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing a tie. His dress shirt’s first two buttons were undone and his bronze skin underneath caught her eye.

“We aren’t here to discuss my personal life.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Your summary of my life this morning prompted me to do some digging of my own.”

Samantha braced herself for his judgment. She never tried to hide her past, but always stood a chance and losing a client because of the sins of her father. “One doesn’t have to dig deep to unveil my past, Mr. Harrison.”

“I thought we decided you’d call me Blake.”

First names and talk of relationships… this was not going well. Samantha poured a little more wine down her throat, suddenly wishing it was something stronger. “My father is a horrible man, my mother was a coward. Neither of them reflects who I am or how I tend to my business,
Blake
.”

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.”

She hated the defensive tone in her voice, and the transient look of pity on Blake’s face.

“You purposely left the last names of the women out, why is that?”

Oh, good, back to business. “I’m not the only one whose parents have darkened people’s perceptions. I realize that family can pose a problem to any relationship, even if it’s a business relationship, but starting out with information about the women themselves helps keep the door of possibilities open.”

“Are the women all trust fund babies or daughters of convicted felons?”

“Hardly. All three have severed their family ties… financially anyway. Which is why they’re searching for security and not love.”

Blake fingered the stem of his glass. She watched his movements and wondered briefly, what it would feel like to have his hands on her skin, running up and down her arms, her thighs. Heat rushed up her neck and she shifted her gaze away. “I can give you their names now if you insist. If it’s going to weigh on your decision, then it’s best you know.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve already picked the woman I’m going to offer a contract to.”

Samantha’s head shot in his direction right as the waiter brought their salads. She held her tongue while the waiter crushed fresh black pepper over their first course and topped off their glasses with the wine. The anticipation was eating her up. Whom did he pick, and why? How could he actually decide to offer marriage to a person without even meeting her? That was extreme, even for the titled millionaire sitting across from her. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. What did she really know about Blake Harrison? He liked his women busty, leggy, and lean. She’d not found one picture of the man without a model type hanging from his arm, hence the reason Samantha picked the three most beautiful women in her little black book, which was actually a little black notebook. Still, how did a man pick from three pictures?

“Don’t you want to meet them first?” Suddenly, the thought of him picking a wife from a photograph felt shallow, even to her. Were men so easily swayed by a beautiful face? The short answer was “yes.” She knew it was possible that Blake Harrison was as superficial as the next guy, but disappointment hovered over her as he proved it with his actions.

“The women in the pictures?”

Sam shook her head, confused. “Of course those women.”

“No.” He picked up his fork and took a bite.

No? Oh, shit. He’d decided to marry someone else. The dollar signs she’d seen from the first mention of his name started to float out to sea. “You’ve found someone else who has agreed to marry you?”

“She hasn’t agreed, not yet anyway.” He took another bite, casual and in control.

If he wasn’t going to use her service, then why the hell was she here? “So
Alliance
is a back up plan?” Maybe he wasn’t kissing her off quite yet. Men like him didn’t do things without reason.

“Not entirely.”

Samantha dropped her fork and fixed him with a stare. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrison, but I’m confused. Just this morning you were looking for a contractual woman to meet your needs and that has changed in a few hours? Or are you not satisfied with the ladies I presented?”

Blake gave up the pretense of eating and placed his hands on the table beside his plate. “The women you picked were perfect. Too perfect. My time frame to choose a wife is narrow. Getting to know each of those lovely ladies and making a decision is a luxury I don’t have.” He reached below the table and grasped onto a briefcase she hadn’t seen. He removed a file folder and pushed it on the table in front of her.

“What’s this?”

“The agreement my lawyer and I wrote up this afternoon.”

She itched to open the folder, but laid her hand on it instead. “What agreement?”

Blake’s grey eyes held onto hers. “I’m offering
you
a marriage contract.”

Her heart fell in an audible thump. “I’m not on the menu, Mr. Harrison.” She pushed the papers back toward him. He caught her hand under his and held it firm. The contact shot that sizzle she’d felt when she’d first seen him straight to her toes and back up again. The constant thud of her heart started to rise and gooseflesh spread over her bare arms. Sam’s entire body tingled and the only part of them touching was their hands.

“Everyone has a price, Samantha.”

“Not me.” She tried to pull away, but he squeezed her fingers to keep her from running.

“I’m setting up a trust fund to take care of
Jordan
for life. Even if something were to happen to you,
Jordan
would be taken care of.”

Sam’s mouth opened with that guppy look again. A bomb going off couldn’t have shocked her more. Blake had done his homework, knew of her sister and her needs. “My sister is only twenty-two years old. She could live to be a hundred.” Not likely, according to the doctors, but there wasn’t proof she’d die young.

“And her care costs you a hundred and six thousand a year. Those expenses will only go up.” His hand loosened on hers, but she didn’t pull away.

“You’re willing to pay me over eight million dollars to be your wife for a year?”

“Plus twenty percent. That is your fee, right?”

Samantha nodded slowly then shook her head. “Why me?”

“Why
not
you?” His thumb started to move over her hand but she was still too stunned to move.

“I’m not your type.”

“My type?”

“Tall, blonde, and gorgeous.”

He chuckled and the laugh grounded her. This was a business deal, after all, nothing more, nothing less. Blake had turned her hand over and was rubbing the inside of her wrist with soothing circles. Okay, maybe a marriage contract was a bit more than a business deal. She removed her hand from under his.

“What would marriage to you look like?”

“Your life wouldn’t have to change,” he said as he lifted his wine to his lips. “A quick trip to the justice of the peace, maybe Vegas. We’d have to make a few appearances over the first few months to satisfy the lawyers my father hired before his death and my cousin who stands to gain should this not work out. I spend half of my time in Europe, half here in
Malibu
so we wouldn’t cramp each others’ daily life.”

“Why not find a wife in
Europe
?”

“To minimize the relentless media eyes in
Europe
. The States don’t have tabloids dedicated to Kings and Queens, Dukes and Duchesses. The newness of my nuptials will wear off quickly.”

The stipulations in Blake’s father’s will stated that Blake had to be married and settled by his thirty-sixth birthday in order to inherit the man’s wealth and keep his title. After much debate, the lawyers determined that after a year of marriage, they could relinquish his inheritance and lift any further legal restrictions. This was what Samantha’s contacts in
London
had told her.

“What kind of appearances?”

“A small reception and a few appearances in public venues. I’d need you to come with me to
London
to sign papers with the lawyers in regard to my title, our titles.”

She swallowed; she had forgotten about the whole Duchess thing. “I’ve no idea what being a Duchess is about.”

Blake lifted his fork and started eating again. “I’ve never had one, so I’m not completely sure either.”

Samantha couldn’t help but offer a laugh. “This is crazy.”

“I’m surprised you think so. The arrangement makes perfect sense to me.”

The waiter returned with their meals and quickly left.

Samantha remembered the advice she’d given Blake earlier in the day.
It will be up to you to keep it in your pants, Mr. Harrison.
Perhaps he picked her because of how easy it would be to stay out of her bed. That made perfect sense. Maybe he’d seen the pictures of the women she’d picked out and found them perfectly doable.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

She really needed to work on her poker face. “Nothing… I—this is a lot to think about. I wasn’t expecting this proposal.”

“But you’re considering it.”

“I’d be a fool not to.”

“You don’t strike me as foolish.” He took a bite of his prime rib with a gleam in his eye.

No, she wasn’t a fool. “I’ll look over your contract tomorrow.”

“Excellent.”

The plane reached cruising altitude and the pilot told them they could remove their seatbelts for the forty-five minute flight to
Las Vegas
. Blake took advantage of the freedom to move about the cabin of his private jet and open a bottle of champagne.