An Act of Love

by Marion Ekholm

  Marley considered this. She’d always wanted a brother. How would she have handled one?

  “They know, by the way, that this engagement is all an act. And they were against me doing anything that might embarrass you or your family.”

  “I hope I’ll have the opportunity to thank them. You clean up well.”

  He sighed and concentrated on his hands, examining the palms. “I have a little confession.”

  “What’s that?” Perplexed, she waited for some revelation and hoped it had nothing to do with last night’s kissing.

  He regarded her for a long moment before speaking in a barely audible voice. Marley leaned forward, even more interested. “I missed that.”

  He adjusted his seat and bent over the table. “You really shook me up when you offered me money.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Don’t be.” He reached for her hands and gripped them. “You were right. The women in my family have been after me to invest in better clothes. I probably didn’t just to spite them. Sometimes it really rankles having the equivalent of five mothers.” When Marley appeared confused, he added, “Three sisters, a mother and grandmother, all telling me what to do as if I were still ten years old.” He released her hands and sat back. “That’s why I prefer living on my own in Phoenix instead of at the ranch.”

  Marley had enjoyed the connection and wished he still held her hands. She brought her own to her lap, not knowing what to do with them. “I can relate to your sisters.” When an eyebrow went up, she reached over and touched his hand, half expecting him to pull away. He wrapped his fingers around hers.

  “As the oldest, I’ve always been the second mother, making sure homework was completed, baths were taken, entertaining my sisters when our mother was too busy. I managed to escape, like you, yet they forever pull me back. Help me here—what do you think about this boyfriend, should I cut my hair? I am so happy this is the last wedding I have to be involved in.”

  Brant took her fingers to his lips and kissed them, watching her all the while. “I guess the firstborn gets all the responsibilities, while the babies like Lindy and me take advantage.” He placed her hand back on the table but didn’t release it. “Being the only boy comes with its own set of problems.”

  “Like what?”

  “My father wants me to take over the ranch.”

  “And give up acting?” Marley could sense this wasn’t something Brant wanted.

  “Nothing that specific yet, but he did want to talk to me while I was on hiatus. Another reason I wanted to follow you here. I wish he’d sign everything over to Elaina, my oldest sister. She’s better suited to ranch life.”

  “But if you don’t take over, you can’t say you own a ranch.”

  He shook his head. “I can always say that. So far no one’s challenged me on it.”

  After another comfortable pause, Brant broke the silence. “So when did you and Richard first meet?”

  “In college. I was a junior and he was a senior. We dated for several months and it got...” She stopped, then added, “Personal.”

  “Who broke it off?” He held up his free hand and said, “Wait. I know. It was you.” Brant pointed his index finger at her and shook it. “He has this wounded puppy-dog look like he can’t understand what he did wrong, and I’ll bet you never told him.”

  Marley sighed and slowly began to pull her hand away. “He reminded me too much of my father.”

  “And that’s a bad thing because...?”

  “My father...” How should she start? “You met him last night, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. He seemed very pleased that you’re settling down and warned me to treat you properly or he’d come after me with a shotgun. Sounded serious.”

  “He doesn’t...” Marley felt a tightness in her throat. Without giving the words much thought, she blurted, “He likes women, and it never mattered that he was married.”

  The waitress returned with a plate of French fries and set it on the table. Brant looked at the fries but didn’t take any. Marley, feeling grateful for the distraction, took one and scooped up some gravy before putting it in her mouth. When Brant still didn’t look as though he might try one, she said, “Coward.”

  Brant took a fry, dipped it in the gravy and ate it. For a moment he appeared nauseous, until his expression changed and he reached for another one. “Not bad, but definitely an acquired taste. I prefer mine with vinegar, something I picked up when I was in England.”

  He brushed off his hands and pushed the plate closer to her. “So why did your father’s fooling around affect you and Richard?”

  “I was afraid Richard would do the same, leave me when something better came along. I’ve seen the pain my mother experienced, and I couldn’t tolerate that.” After turning so that she faced Brant straight on, she gazed into his eyes. “You impressed me as being the same type of guy.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “I’ve spotted you with women, several different ones, in fact, taking them home at night, seeing them off in the morning.”

  Brant bent over the table and decreased the space between them. “I’m flattered.”

  “I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  “No. I’m flattered you paid so much attention. I never knew you cared.”

  “I don’t. It doesn’t matter to me what you do. We’re not involved and never would be because...” A sudden sadness enveloped her. On one side, there was Brant. She’d begun to like him as a person and a possible friend. And this scared her. How could she expose herself to someone who admittedly enjoyed playing the field?

  On the other, there was Richard, a man she’d once loved. What if he still cared for her? He’d already showed it several times. Wouldn’t it be foolish not to explore that possibility? She had to give up on one of them.

  She needed out of this arrangement with Brant—a chance to be with Richard. Marley took a deep breath. “I want to break our engagement.”

  “What?” Brant half stood. Was he acting again? The look he gave her of hurt and disbelief disappeared so quickly she wasn’t sure if she’d just imagined it.

  “You heard me. I think something could develop between me and Richard again, and it can’t get off the ground if I’m engaged. I’ll tell everyone we had an argument, and you left for Arizona.” Marley slipped off the ring and pushed it across the table. The easy camaraderie between them had disappeared. “Here. You can return it when you get back, and if there’re any additional costs—”

  “No can do.” Brant regarded the ring for a moment. Then he grabbed her hand and kept it and the ring from coming closer to his side of the table. He released her, got up and began running his hand through his hair, looking in every direction except at her. Finally, he sat down and fingered the ring.

  Brant grasped her hand again and put the ring on her finger. “As of last night, I’m in the wedding. Denny’s best man, his army buddy, couldn’t make leave, and he asked me to fill in for him. Denny gave me a card for the tuxedo place.” Brant dropped her hand and reached for his wallet. “I have to be there before one today to get fitted.” Brant placed the card in her hand, then sat back.

  “How can I be in the wedding if we break up?” he asked. “How can I get out of it and not upset everyone who’s counting on me?”

  Marley collapsed on the table, pressing her face into her hands. When would this nightmare end?

  Brant patted her on the top of her head. “Cheer up. I’ll let you dance with Richard at the wedding.” Marley dragged herself up and glared at him.

  “You’ll let me!” She stood and leaned on the table. “This engagement is fake. Stop acting like you own me and can dictate what I’m supposed to do or how I should behave.”

  “As though you’d allow that even if we we
re engaged.” Brant stood also and tapped his index finger on the table. “Stop going schizo on me. One minute you act like a human being and the next thing, you’re off the wall. I don’t get it.”

  Marley dropped back in her seat and tried to control her quivering chin. She didn’t look at Brant. She’d no intention of crying. Compressing her lips, she tried to focus on what she should do next. They needed their clothes. “The laundry should have everything ready by now.”

  She got up and started in that direction. She’d gone only a few feet, when Brant grasped her arm and turned her around. Before she could muster any more control, Marley began sobbing into the PITT emblem inscribed on his shirt.

  “Let it all out,” he said, resting his chin on her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, gently pressing her against him. The closeness, his strong arms holding her, made everything worse. The tears nearly exploded inside her. Brant had somehow managed to infiltrate all her defenses. She never felt so vulnerable, and deep down she wanted his comfort, his companionship and...

  But he was Brant, an actor, someone who could turn on the charm without meaning any of it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MARLEY HAD CALMED down by the time they reached their motel room. Lindy and Dennis had left and returned the key, so they had to get a different room. “I’ll take care of it,” Brant said as they walked into the office and over to the counter. “A suite, if you have one.”

  “A suite. No, that’s too expensive.”

  Brant turned to her. “In case you haven’t caught on, my dear, my Goodwill wardrobe is mostly for disguise. I can afford it.”

  “One king-size or two queens?” the manager asked.

  “Two,” Marley said quickly.

  Brant gave her a sidelong glance before returning his attention to the manager. “Two beds, for two nights and no smoking. Put it on this.” He handed the man a credit card. While Brant filled out paperwork, Marley went outside to wait, thankful that she didn’t have to add more to her own credit card.

  To keep this farce going, they’d have to share the same room. Two nights, two beds. How was she going to handle the next forty-eight hours? In emotional time, that had the equivalent of two centuries. She’d already fallen apart. Breaking down in tears was a new thing for her, and, she had to admit, it had felt good. Right up until it had felt too good. Brant’s attempt to comfort her, his closeness, his fresh shower smell, his—

  “You ready?” he asked as he came out of the office. “I’ll get the bags.” She followed him with their clean laundry, neatly washed, pressed, hung on wire hangers and wrapped in plastic.

  This motel room had a living room with a large sofa and matching chair. The two queen beds were located in a separate room. Brant went into the bedroom with the bags. When he emerged, the PITT shirt and his shorts were gone and he was wearing one of his long-sleeved Western shirts and black pants.

  Marley sat on the sofa and flipped on the TV. Brant flipped it off.

  “We have to talk.”

  With her arms folded across her chest, Marley stared at the blank TV. “I’m sorry I lost it earlier. I don’t usually have crying fits.”

  “You’re wound way too tight. A good cry can be very beneficial. My sisters do it on a regular basis.”

  She glared at him. “If you so much as mention PMS, Brant Westfield, you will be smothered in your sleep.”

  “Oh, will you quit it with those idle threats.” He grasped her hand and pulled her from the sofa.

  “They aren’t idle—”

  He kissed her.

  It was so quick and unexpected, very much like his kisses last night. When he was through, Brant held her arms so she couldn’t move away.

  “Now, have I got your attention?” He was breathing hard, a dragon with flames about to spew from his nostrils. The raw emotion surprised her. “That seems the only way to shut you up. We are not going off on another tangent of threats, rants or women’s liberation. We have only a few hours to prepare for Armageddon.” He pulled her to him again. When he merely wrapped his arms around her and held her close, she felt disappointed and a little curious. What was he planning to do next?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered near her ear, “for coming off as a control freak. I’m experiencing stage fright. I don’t usually, and it scares me to death.” He took a deep breath and held her a few inches from him. “I don’t want to make an idiot of myself and ruin this for you.”

  She studied him. Sweat beaded above his lip and his eyes had a wild look she hadn’t seen before. “Are you acting?”

  Brant closed his eyes and placed his forehead against hers. “No. Lady, you’ve got this idea I can turn it on and off at will. The only time I wasn’t me, the real me, was when I pretended to be drunk.”

  “And the kiss?”

  He moved his head back and regarded her, his lips turning up on one side. “Which time?”

  “Either time.”

  “Just now was totally me, frustrated and desperate.” He paused. “Last night started out as part of the act. It changed when you...you surprised me.”

  He released her, and Marley headed for the sofa again. She felt his hands on her shoulders, and she froze. He reduced the space between them and murmured, “I’m not going to strangle you. Relax.” He began massaging her shoulders. “You have any special way to relax? A mantra or something?”

  “I play my guitar.” She sighed and added, “Which I left back in Phoenix.”

  “You have to understand, Marley,” he said as he worked the kinks out of her shoulders, “I have to be prepared, know my lines and have a general idea of what I should do. I can’t improvise in a vacuum.” His manipulations worked, easing much of her stress, and Marley began to relax. “We need to sketch out this engagement, how it plays. Right now, we have me coming off as Danny Zuko from Grease and you as a witch from Hamlet. The two don’t play as engagement material.”

  “Awwho,” Marley said when he dug deeper into her shoulder. She moved out of his grasp, flipped around and placed her hands on his back.

  “The witch wants her turn.”

  “I was speaking figuratively.”

  She could feel the tension in his shoulders and found it disturbing. All the time she’d known him, he’d seemed lighthearted to the extreme. Who would have guessed he was so uptight?

  Marley glanced around for a straight-back chair and spotted one at the desk in the other room. She pushed him toward it and ordered him to sit. “Face the back so I can work on these muscles.”

  “Wait.” Brant snapped the pearl buttons on his shirt and pulled it off, all the while watching her. She kept her expression neutral as he undid the cuffs, not wanting him to know how much she liked the way he looked.

  “I figured out why you wear these Western shirts. They make it so easy to expose yourself.”

  He grinned.

  “All those hours of struggling with Pilates finally paid off?”

  “Wondered when you’d notice.” He winked. After laying the shirt neatly on the bed, he sat down and placed his arms on the back of the chair. “Do your worst.”

  She worked on his shoulders for several minutes, enjoying his grunts of pleasure and complimentary comments. When she was through, she gave him a light slap on his arm and sat on the bed across from him.

  “You’re good. Where did you learn that?”

  “I had a roommate who was into sports, and I learned a few techniques to relieve the aches and pains.”

  “What did she play?”

  “He was on the basketball and track teams.” She smiled at his shocked expression. “He played football, too, but I met him after football season. He graduated that spring semester.”

  Brant put his shirt on, but he did up only a few of the bottom buttons. He didn’t bother to tuck the shirt int
o his pants. “Surprise, surprise,” he said rolling up the sleeves. “I take it this guy wasn’t Richard.”

  Marley placed her hands behind her and leaned back on the bed. “Could we have one agreement between us? Stop talking about Richard.”

  Brant did a little finger dance, indicating she should get to her feet and come to him. She did, and they stood almost toe to toe. Was he about to kiss her again? she wondered. She hoped.

  “I agree, although it will require an equal commitment on your part.” He took her hands and gazed into her eyes.

  “We need to get into character. We are engaged. I think you’re the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. I want you to have my children.” He paused. “And if you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to kiss you silly.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said, then quickly moved away from his reach.

  Brant flung himself face down on the bed. “Marley,” he said, his voice muffled in the pillow. He continued to say her name while he smashed his fists into the bedspread.

  Marley had a sudden fit of conscience and moved closer to comfort him. “I’m sorry,” she said and sat on the bed next to him. “I’ve never been engaged before. I don’t know how to act.”

  “You’ve got to at least pretend to like me. Everything and anything I say appears to make you mad or send you into hysterics. Help me! What can I do to make you like me?”

  She stared at him. “But I do like you.” She did. And the idea of her liking him surprised her as much as it appeared to surprise him. “Okay, so I didn’t think I ever would.” She folded her arms protectively across her chest as he sat up beside her. “You come off as very annoying, full of yourself and like you think the world should revolve around you.”

  In a sudden move, he dropped onto his knees in front of her and clasped his hands on her lap. “I’m what?”

  “Stop it. You’re too much...I don’t know.” She grabbed his hands and tried to push them off her lap. “I can’t take you seriously. And you make me nervous.”