by Helen Brooks
She pushed at his shoulders.
He resisted. His fingers teased under the line of lace, pausing to splay across the indentation between her hip and abdomen, before drifting lower still…
Flattening her palms against his chest, she shoved harder.
With a curse, he rolled away. She scrambled onto her knees, ready to flee the bed if he made any move toward her. But he didn’t. He lay there, his breathing harsh, his arm thrown over his eyes. His whole aspect was one of pain.
The frantic racing of her heart slowed. Uncertainty trickled through her. She touched his arm tentatively. “Garek?”
He stiffened under her touch. He lowered his arm and looked at her, his eyes cold and hard. “Next time you plan to trap a man into marriage,” he said, his voice like shards of glass, “make sure you have the guts to go through with it.”
Ellie’s hand fell to her side. “What are you talking about?”
He stood up and gestured toward the door and where her cousin had positioned himself outside. “The shotgun wedding. The reluctant bride. I thought I’d seen every trick in the book when it came to women trying to ensnare me, but this one, I admit, was brilliant.” He looked down at her, his gaze traveling from her face to her chest. “You’re one hot little witch when you want to be.”
Realizing her blouse was hanging open, she flushed and pulled the edges together. Then she paled. “Surely you don’t think I planned this. You’re the one that barged in here—”
“Yeah, after you left that message that ensured that I would—I was actually feeling guilty for having used you—for misjudging you. But I got it right the first time, didn’t I? You’re a greedy, manipulative little gold digger, out to make a quick buck.”
“I don’t care about your money—”
“It’s a little late for the innocent act. You set me up. You don’t really expect me to believe that your witless cousin came up with this marriage idea on his own? Or that the presence of Caspar, the friendly minister, was merely a coincidence? Oh, and let’s not forget the icing on the wedding cake—you, the pregnant bride. Tell me something—are you really pregnant? Did some guy knock you up and you decided to pass the baby off as mine? Or was the whole thing a story you invented to get your cousin and his friend to go along with your plan?”
Her face felt frozen. “You…you conceited ass. This whole mess is your fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t decided to play such a nasty trick on your sister. Even if I were pregnant, I would never marry you. I wouldn’t marry you for all the sculptures in the Metropolitan. I wouldn’t marry you for all the paintings in the Louvre. I wouldn’t marry you—”
“I get the idea. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.”
She hated the indifference of his tone. She hated even more that she couldn’t match it—her voice sounded slightly shrill as she asked, “But where are you going to sleep?”
“In the bed, of course.” He picked up the pillow and punched it.
“This is my bed.”
“I’m willing to share. Your virtue is safe with me.”
She glared at him. “You can sleep on the floor.”
“I’m not that chivalrous. You sleep on the floor.”
She watched with fury and dismay as he turned back the hand-stitched quilt Aunt Alma had made and sat down to shuck off his shoes. The jerk. The cad. The—
His hands went to the buckle of his belt.
Her cheeks burning again, she practically leaped off the bed and stood with her back to him. A few seconds later she heard the rustle of sheets and the click of the light. The room went dark.
Ellie hesitated, trying to decide what to do. She was not going to share a bed with him. But the only other option was the bare wooden planks of the floor.
She considered marching out into the living room and taking the couch. She knew Robbie wouldn’t stop her. The only problem was, he would probably come in and shoot Garek. Oh, she didn’t think he would kill him—at least not intentionally. But it would be just like Robbie to accidentally shoot Garek in the foot or the hand. Or the rear…
She glanced at the black silhouette in her bed. For a second, she was tempted to go to the couch and leave Garek to his fate.
She sighed. She couldn’t do that. No matter how much she hated Garek, she couldn’t allow Robbie to shoot him.
An hour later, though, turning on the hard floor, she wasn’t so sure. She was so cold, her bones ached with it. She couldn’t stop shivering. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to conserve her body heat. She didn’t remember ever being this cold. The clunky furnace must have conked out again. She would probably freeze by morning…
Warm arms suddenly encircled and lifted her. Shegave a little squeak, all she was capable of at the moment since she was shivering so badly. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“The chattering of your teeth is keeping me awake,” he growled.
“W-well, isn’t that just too bad?” She yelped as he dropped her and she hit the mattress. “I would rather freeze to death than share a bed with you,” she informed him haughtily.
“If you insist. At least you’ll save me the cost of a lawyer to dissolve this marriage. Just do it quietly.”
Outraged, she sat up and glared through the dark at him. Suddenly, she was determined not to freeze to death. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Not to mention the warmth of the bed was so heavenly, she didn’t think she could get up if she wanted to.
Carefully, she eased herself, still fully clothed, between the blanket and the sheet, trying to ignore the black bulk sprawled beside her in the spot on the mattress where she usually slept.
“You know,” he drawled, “you might have grounds to claim the marriage is valid if we consummate it—”
“No, thank you!” she snapped.
He laughed softly, sardonically.
She turned on her side and scooted to the very edge of the mattress.
If he made one move toward her, she would shoot him herself.
Ellie woke up slowly, aware that something was different than usual. Her nose twitched. What was that smell? It wasn’t unpleasant exactly. It was more earthy. Musky. Masculine…
Her eyes flew open.
A brawny shoulder was only a few inches away from her own. Instinctively, she pulled away, then, as Garek stirred and rolled over, she grew still, holding her breath.
He didn’t wake up, however, and she stared at him. In the clear light filtering through the blinds, she could see every detail. A cowlick spiked up on top of his head. His hair grew back from his wide forehead in a straight line. He frowned, even in his sleep, a crease showing between his eyebrows. He had short, dark lashes, a reasonably well-shaped nose and ears that stuck out slightly, giving him an almost boyish look. The boyishness was instantly belied, however, by the dark shadow of beard and mustache, and the clean line of his upper lip and the full, amazingly sensual curve of his lower lip.
Her chest began to hurt. Two days ago, she’d thought he was someone special. Two days ago, she might have welcomed last night’s crazy ceremony—only without the gun.
How could she have been so stupid?
But there was no point in crying. She’d cried over Rafe. She wasn’t going to cry over Garek Wisnewski.
She climbed out of the bed. Straightening her spine and smoothing her creased and twisted skirt as best she could, she went to the door and peeked out.
No gun-wielding madmen lurked in the hall.
She checked the other bedroom but saw no sign of Robbie or his friend. They must have decided to make themselves scarce.
Wisely, thought Ellie as she went into the kitchen and started some coffee. She was going to kill Robbie when she got her hands on him…
A sound made her turn. Garek stood in the doorway, buttoning his shirt, his coat over his arm. His hair was wet and slicked back, but dark stubble still covered his jaw.
“Your cousin decided
not to stay for the rest of the honeymoon?”
Ellie turned away from the sardonic tone in Garek’s voice. Opening a drawer, she stared down at the contents. She wouldn’t let him bait her, she told herself grimly. She’d done nothing wrong. “Would you like some coffee?”
“How wifely you sound.”
Closing the drawer with a small bang, she turned to face him. Then paused. She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened. Robbie is sometimes a bit…impulsive. But he means well.”
“I’m sure Al Capone and Bonnie and Clyde had pure motives, also.”
She clenched her jaw until the filling in her back molar ached. “I’m sorry you were forced to spend the night here, but no harm done, right?” She pasted a smile on her face. “As you said, the marriage wasn’t valid.”
He didn’t smile back. If anything, the angles of his face grew harsher. “My lawyer will take care of any legalities involved. I am instructing him, however, not to give you a single penny.”
“Fine,” she said. “I don’t want anything from you.”
His eyes narrowed. “You really expect me to believe that you’re not going to make some claim against me?”
“I don’t care what you believe, but that’s the truth.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Because you’re not getting anything.”
“Yes, you already said that.” She was tired of his accusations, his suspicion. She stalked out of the kitchen, stepped to the front door and opened it, letting in a blast of cold air. Turning, she spoke across the small space to where he stood in the kitchen doorway watching her. “You better go now and get your lawyer working on it right away.”
Garek frowned as he approached her. She played the innocent so well. But he wasn’t falling for it this time. “Very well. My lawyer will be in touch with you.” He pulled on his coat and gloves. “I’m going to make certain that you’re prosecuted for attempted fraud.”
“Fine!” she said through gritted teeth. “Just go!”
Garek stepped toward the door. “My lawyer will also make certain that your lunatic cousin is sent back to jail—”
“Robbie?” For the first time Garek saw a crack in her facade. She shut the door abruptly. “You can’t do that. Robbie didn’t mean any harm—”
“Holding a gun on a person usually qualifies as intending harm. He belongs in prison—”
“He just needs a chance,” she said fiercely. “If you do anything to hurt Robbie, I’ll…I’ll tell the whole story about our marriage to the tabloids.”
So that was how she intended to turn the situation to her advantage. He’d known she must have some plan up her sleeve. His anger, which had begun to fade, flared up to new heights. “Do whatever the hell you like,” he snarled. “I really don’t give a damn.”
He opened the door and strode out of the apartment. Head bent against the cold wind, he silently cursed himself for believing, just for a moment, that she was as innocent as she looked.
Chapter Ten
Garek worked long, hard hours the next week. Other than giving his lawyer a terse explanation and an even terser set of instructions, he did not think of Eleanor Hernandez at all—except, perhaps, when he chanced to glance at the abstract painting hanging on his wall. Then he couldn’t quite control the acid burn in his stomach.
He was searching his desk drawer for a roll of antacids as he talked on the phone to his production manager late Friday afternoon, when the door opened and Larry Larson, head of the legal department for Wisnewski Industries, entered the office.
“Let me get back to you, Ed.” Garek hung up the phone, his gaze on Larry’s face. “Well?”
“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Larry sat down, carefully positioning the fall of his jacket as he seated himself.He had a fondness for expensive suits and a tendency to comb his hair across the bald spot on his crown, but he was an excellent lawyer, intelligent and efficient, and Garek knew he could count on him for sound advice.
“Go on,” Garek said.
“The good news is that I spoke to several experts and they confirmed what I told you initially—any marriage involving coercion is automatically invalid. Also, after careful research, I’ve discovered that virtually every state refuses to recognize Internet marriage licenses. Ms. Hernandez will have a very difficult time making any claim against you.”
Garek leaned back in his chair, his hard gaze not leaving the lawyer’s face. “And the bad news?”
“The bad news—ah.” Larry cleared his throat and adjusted his cuff. “The bad news is that coercion can be a difficult thing to prove. She could claim that the two of you married of your own free will. Then it would be her word against yours. Also, one or two states do recognize Internet marriage licenses. Vermont, for example, recognizes just about anything as a marriage. And unfortunately, Caspar Egilbert is a legally ordained minister, even though the university he obtained his degree from is somewhat suspect. The unpleasant truth is that although I have no doubt that we would ultimately be successful, I’m afraid Ms. Hernandez could involve us in a very messy, very embarrassing court case and the resulting publicity would not be good for the company. Stockholders want their CEOs to be above reproach these days—”
“I don’t care about the damn stockholders.” The anger Garek had been controlling all week flared dangerously high. “I’m not paying her one dime—”
“Yes, yes,” Larry said hastily, fingering the knot of his tie. “Fortunately, that won’t be necessary. If you’ll look in this file, you’ll see that I’ve taken care of all the paperwork.”
Hard satisfaction replaced the burn in Garek’s stomach. He took the thick file from Larry and opened it. Inside on top was a document giving him ownership of the gallery. He picked up a pen. “Did the accountant go over the books?”
“Yes, everything was in order. Although there was one thing that seemed a bit odd…”
Tensing, Garek glanced up. “What?”
“A donation to the Art Institute a few days ago.”
“What’s so odd about that?”
“The artist was paid five thousand for the work. Coincidentally, a check you’d made out to Ms. Hernandez was cashed the same day…”
Garek’s grip tightened on the pen.
“I called the Art Institute and discovered that the donation had been made in your name. I asked what exactly the donation was, and the woman said it was a sculpture of a giant…” Larry paused.
“A giant cockroach?” Garek guessed.
Larry’s nearly nonexistent eyebrows rose. “You knew about this?”
“Not exactly.” Narrowing his eyes, Garek signed the deed and set it aside. He stared down at the next paper, a document stating that one Eleanor Hernandez relinquished all claims on him. “This is already signed,” Garek observed.
“Yes,” Larry said, his satisfaction evident. “I spoke to her this morning.”
“Did she give you any trouble?”
“Surprisingly, no. I think she realized she was beat. She read through the waiver and the annulment papers, then signed them both. She did ask me to remind you what she’d said about her cousin, though.”
“Ah, yes. Her cousin.” Garek set Ellie’s waiver aside and glanced at the next document—a statement against Robbie. Phrases like assault with a deadly weapon and criminal confinement leaped out at him.
He’d been too furious about the whole shotgun marriage and her threat to sell her story to the tabloids to think about Eleanor Hernandez very clearly. All he’d thought of this last week were ways to squash her gallery, her cousin and—most especially—her.
But now, something nagged at him, something that had been niggling at the back of his brain all week.
She’d been extremely upset when the reporter had taken a picture of Garek and her, insisting that he go after the man and get the film. She’d even refused to be interviewed when it could have helped her precious gallery. She’d claimed she wanted the attention focused on the artists and th
eir work, but the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that she found the idea of appearing in a tabloid as distasteful as he did.
Garek frowned.
If she was trying to blackmail him, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. She should have threatened to go to the tabloids if he didn’t give her money—not to save her cousin. If money was what she was after, she should have cashed that five-thousand-dollar check weeks ago, not squandered it on a ridiculous donation to the Art Institute, a donation designed to…what? Embarrass him? Make some point?
If she wanted to make any kind of claim on him at all, she should have refused to sign these papers. She should have let him make love to her that night, encouraged him to consummate their “marriage”…
It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t make any sense—
“Ahem.”
Garek looked up to see Larry watching him. The lawyer pointed to the line at the bottom of the complaint. “You just need to sign there—”
Garek pushed the paper aside. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to have Roberto Hernandez arrested. I want to leave him out of this.”
Larry’s mouth fell open. “But why?”
“I don’t want to have it on public record that I was coerced into marriage at gunpoint.”
Lines formed on the lawyer’s forehead. “Since when have you cared what anyone thinks?”
Garek’s eyebrows lifted. “You should be happy—you’re always telling me I should worry about it.”
Larry’s frown deepened. “You can’t let this man off. He’s a menace, a danger to society—”
“You’re afraid he’ll go all over town forcing men to marry his cousin?” Garek asked sardonically. “Somehow, I’m not too concerned.”
“I don’t think it’s wise,” Larry said unhappily. “Without the legal complaint, it will be easier for Ms. Hernandez to claim that you weren’t coerced.”
“She’s already signed away all claims.”
“That doesn’t mean she couldn’t change her mind. If she gets herself a sharp lawyer, she could—”
