“Thanks.” She looked the part of a bride, even if she didn’t feel like it. Her dark red hair was piled up on top of her head, with a few careless ringlets pulled free to lay against her neck. The lace-edged veil was elbow length and tickled her bare shoulders. Her floor-length gown flowed around her in a soft cloud of gossamer fabric. Strapless, the gown dipped low over her bosom and hugged her narrow waist. She knew she looked good—she only wished she felt as good as she looked.
“I don’t think I can do it, Travis,” she admitted and laid the flat of her hand against a stomach that was spinning and churning with nerves.
“Oh, you’re going to do it,” Travis told her and took her shoulders in a hard grip. “We’ve got a garden full of guests out there and the musicians are tuning up. Reporters are standing out on the drive and security just caught a photographer sneaking in over the paddock fence.”
“Oh, God….” He’d always been a favorite of the paparazzi. They followed him everywhere, taking pictures of Travis with whatever woman happened to be hanging on his arm. It just hadn’t occurred to Julie that now she’d be a photographer’s target. Her whole life was about to change and she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.
“You’re just nervous.”
“Oh, boy, howdy,” she said, nodding frantically.
He tipped her chin up, stared into her eyes and said, “You’ll get over it.”
“I don’t think so,” Julie said, willing her stomach to settle. “I’ve really got a bad feeling about this, Travis. It’s all so much…more than I thought it would be. This is marriage, Travis. Even if it’s only temporary, it’s marriage. I can’t do this again.”
He frowned at her. “If you think you’re backing out now, you’re nuts. A King wedding is big news. A King being stood up at the altar is even bigger news and that’s not going to happen.”
“Fine,” she said, snatching at his words desperately. “Then you dump me. I don’t care. I’ll explain that you’ve changed your mind and—”
“What’s this all about?” he interrupted and stared down at her.
Julie refused to be swayed by the soft brown of his eyes. Instead, she steeled herself, stomped across the room and pointed out the window at the elegantly decorated garden below. There were two hundred people, sitting in rented white chairs on opposite sides of a white carpeted aisle.
A minister waited at the head of that aisle in a gazebo draped in brilliantly shaded roses and a quartet of violinists were off to one side, playing classical music for the waiting guests. Farther in the distance, a white tent, strewn with yet more roses, awaited the reception party.
“That, Travis,” she said, swallowing hard against the ball of nerves jostling the black flowers of death in the pit of her stomach. “That’s what this is about. I can’t face those people and lie. I’m a terrible liar. You know that. I get blotchy and start to giggle and then it gets bad.”
“You’re making too big a deal out of this.” He strolled across the room, as if he had all the time in the world. “Think of it like a play. We’re a couple of actors, saying our lines then celebrating with a party.”
“A play. Great.” She threw her hands high, then let them slap against the cool silk of her gown. “The last time I was in a play, I was a strawberry in the fourth grade pageant.”
He sighed. “Julie…”
“No,” she said, repeating herself now and not even caring anymore. “I can’t. I’m really sorry, Travis.”
“Oh, well, as long as you’re sorry.” His mouth tightened up and Julie frowned right back at him.
“I warned you that I was no good at this.”
“You signed a contract,” he reminded her.
Yes, she really had. He’d put their little agreement into writing and one of a fleet of King lawyers—or was that a herd?—had notarized her signature. So technically, she was stuck. Emotionally, she was still looking for a back door.
“This was a bad idea.”
“So you said.”
“It bears repeating.”
“Maybe,” he said and took her hand in his. “But it’s the one we agreed on. So pick up your bouquet, we’ll go downstairs and get this over with.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
His eyebrows went straight up. “I believe that’s the first time a woman has gotten nauseous at the thought of marrying me.”
“First time for everything.” Julie looked out the window again and her gaze seemed to arrow in straight on her mother and stepfather. Her mother was worried. Not hard to tell even from a distance, since she was wringing the handle of her new purse. Her stepfather looked uncomfortable, tugging at the collar and tie strangling him.
They didn’t approve of what she was doing, Julie knew. But they were there for her. Supporting her. Her gaze slipped to the other side of the aisle where the King family took up the first two rows. There was Gina, pregnant and glowing, with Adam standing beside her, waiting to take his place as best man. Jackson, the youngest of the King brothers, was seated beside Gina and there were King cousins and aunts and uncles there as well.
Everyone was waiting on her.
But no pressure.
Beside her, Travis whispered, “Think of the future, Julie. Your future. In a year, you’ll have your bakery, I’ll have my distribution deal and everything will go back to normal.”
She wished she could believe him. But that bad feeling inside wouldn’t go away. And that, more than anything, warned her that “normal” might not be what either one of them were expecting.
Two
T he ceremony was over fast and Travis was grateful. Hard enough standing there holding Julie’s hand and feeling her nervous tremors rocking through her body. But as promised, when she said her vows, her voice had shaken and she got the giggles halfway through.
She really was a terrible liar, he thought, watching her dance with his younger brother, Jackson. But the deed was done now. He glanced down at the plain gold band on his left ring finger. Idly, he rubbed the ring with his thumb and tried not to feel like the small circle of gold was somehow a tiny noose shutting off his air supply.
This had been his idea after all, despite the fact that Travis had always avoided marriage. Generally, he stayed with a woman until she started getting that let’s-get-married-and-make-rich-babies-so-I-can-get-a-fat-settlement look in her eye. Then he was off, moving on to someone new. It kept life interesting. Kept him footloose, which is just the way he liked it.
Now, he was married and looking at a sex-free year.
Hmm…
“Second thoughts?”
Travis turned his head to meet his brother Adam’s curious gaze. In the last several months, there’d been a change in the oldest King brother. Oh, he still looked the same, but his attitude had shifted. He wasn’t concentrating solely on the King ranch anymore. Now his life revolved around Gina and their coming baby.
“Not at all,” Travis answered and thought that he was a much better liar than Julie. What did that say about him?
“She’s a nice woman.” Adam glanced out to the crowded dance floor where Jackson was spinning Julie around until she laughed out loud.
“Yeah, she is.” Travis reached for his glass of merlot and took a long drink. “And she knew what she was getting in to, so don’t start with me.”
Adam lifted both hands and shrugged. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Yet.”
He nodded. “Fine. I’m just saying that Julie’s not like your other women. She doesn’t have a heart of stone, so be careful.”
One of Travis’s eyebrows lifted into a high arch. “I think this is where the old saying about the pot and the kettle comes into play.”
Adam
took a sip of champagne and let his gaze slide to the table where his six-months pregnant wife was sitting with her family. Then he looked back at Travis. “Exactly. When Gina and I got married, it was a straight-up business deal. Just like you and Julie.”
“Big difference,” Travis interrupted, not willing to hear a lecture or—God help him—advice. He didn’t need any help here. He and Julie would do just fine. Their agreement was nothing like the one Adam and his wife had had. “Gina loved you. Always did, though God knows why.”
“Very funny.”
Travis shrugged. “It’s different with Julie. We’re friends. Hell, we’re not even good friends. This is business for both of us. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t even go there,” Travis warned, draining his wine and setting the glass down on the table behind him. “When the year’s up, so’s the marriage. End of story.”
“We’ll see.”
Travis stared at his older brother and said, “What is up with you? Discover you love your wife and now you want the rest of us in your boat?” Grinning, he clapped one hand on Adam’s shoulder and said, “Forget about it. I’m just not a one woman kind of guy, Adam. When Julie and I are finished, it’s back to serial monogamy for me.”
The song ended and almost before the last note drifted away, the band moved into another number. This one slow and dreamy. Music spilled from the stage, swept across the crowd and drew even more couples onto the floor.
Adam shook his head and said, “This is not going to be as easy as you think it will be, Travis. But I guess you’ll find that out for yourself.”
“Guess I will,” Travis said, completely confident that his plan would work out just the way he intended.
“Now, I’m going to go dance with my wife,” Adam told him. “Maybe you should do the same.”
When his brother left and headed for Gina, Travis let that one word roll through his mind. Wife. He had a wife. Sounded as odd as the gold band on his ring finger felt. He turned his gaze to the dance floor and watched as a tall man with dark blond hair and a wispy moustache cut in on Jackson to dance with Julie.
Julie looked up at the blonde and her features froze in appalled shock. Something inside Travis jolted. He’d already started moving toward the couple when he saw Julie try to pull away even as the blonde leaned in closer to her, whispering something in her ear. Whatever he said had made quite the impression on Julie. She looked like a balloon, slowly deflating.
The crowd separating them seemed to get thicker as Travis moved faster. Instinct pushed him on. He slipped past people, pushed others out of his way and got to Julie’s side just as she finally managed to shove herself out of the blond man’s arms. She stared up at the guy as if he were a ghost and the blonde was enjoying her shock.
“Julie, you okay?” Travis came up beside her.
“Travis. Oh, God….” She covered her mouth with one hand and kept staring at the other man as if she couldn’t really believe he was there.
And just who the hell was this guy? A reporter? A photographer who’d somehow made it past security? But where was his camera? Instinctively, Travis pushed Julie behind him as he faced the tall, lanky man who was looking at him with what could only be glee shining in his pale blue eyes.
“What’s going on here?” Travis demanded, keeping his voice low enough that even the other dancers around them couldn’t hear him over the music.
The blonde gave him a half bow and smirked. “I’ve only come to offer my congratulations on your wedding,” he said, his English flavored with a very thick French accent.
Travis shot a look at Julie.
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” Travis said, turning back to the guy silently laughing at him. Something was going on here and he was damned sure he wasn’t going to like it. Hands fisted at his side, he demanded, “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Ahh…” The guy held out his right hand and said softly, conspiratorially, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jean Claude Doucette. And you must be the man who has just married my wife.”
“I’m a bigamist,” Julie muttered and the word tasted foul in her mouth. Well, this certainly put her “bad feeling” from earlier in perspective. Compared to now, that debilitating trepidation was like a day at Disneyland.
This was a nightmare. One she couldn’t seem to wake up from. One where both of her husbands—dear God—were facing off like a couple of well-groomed pit bulls. Although, if she had to bet on who would be the winner of this weird contest, she’d put her money on Travis. The Frenchman who stood so calmly at ease had no idea just how much danger he was in.
“Yes, my dear,” Jean Claude said, from his place beside the cold hearth. He looked suave and sure of himself, as always. His blond hair was swept back from his forehead. His pale blue eyes were locked on her and even from across the room, she read the humor in his gaze. He wore a well-tailored gray suit with a pale yellow shirt and a steel-gray tie. He looked relaxed, completely at home, as if he were enjoying himself immensely.
Julie had never hated another human being as much in her life.
Still watching her, Jean Claude leaned one elbow on the intricately carved wooden mantel. “You are indeed a bigamist. Such a shame, really. And so very…embarrassing, I think is the word. At least, it is potentially a very public embarrassment for your new husband.”
It really was. The papers had been full of the wedding for the last month. Society columns were filled with speculation about the marriage of one of California’s wealthiest bachelors. She could just imagine what would happen if they got wind of this news.
That distribution deal Travis was so concerned about would no doubt disappear and the humiliation would cling to him forever. Oh, God, she wanted the floor to open her up and swallow her whole.
Or better yet, swallow Jean Claude.
If her legs hadn’t felt like overcooked spaghetti, she might have walked over to Jean Claude and slapped him. As it was, all she managed was a wince before she dropped into a wing-backed chair. The wide window beside her overlooked the front of the house. At least she didn’t have to sit here and stare out at the wedding party.
They’d left the reception, where their friends and families were dancing and laughing, to come to Travis’s study. Despite the room’s size, its dark green walls, thick, colorful rugs and countless bookshelves gave the study a warm, almost comforting feel.
But it would take way more than the room’s ambiance to comfort Julie at the moment. Her heart was galloping in her chest and her stomach kept twisting, as if a giant, unseen fist was squeezing it mercilessly. She shot a look at Travis and nearly groaned at the expression of pure fury on his face.
The three of them were caught together like survivors of a shipwreck. And two of the survivors looked as though they were each willing to throw the other out of the lifeboat.
Could this get any worse?
Oh, she really shouldn’t have thought that question.
“I believe I saw some reporters stationed outside this…winery,” Jean Claude mused aloud. “Perhaps I should go and have a quiet word with one or two of them.”
Reporters.
Julie’s head ached anew and the tumult in her stomach stepped up a notch.
“You won’t be talking to any reporters,”
Travis muttered tightly.
“This is, as you Americans are so fond of saying, a free country, is it not?”
“Not where you’re concerned,” Travis told him, then added, “You start talking to reporters and my lawyers will be on you so fast, they’ll take everything from you but that ridiculous accent.”
Jean Claude’s eyes narrowed, but as Julie watched him, all she could think was that he was so far out-classed in the whole really furious competition. Anger radiated off of Travis in heavy waves that seemed to swim through the room, making the air almost too thick to breathe.
“You are in no position to dictate terms to me,” Jean Claude warned.
“Mister,” Travis answered. “This is my house. I do what I damn well want and right now, I want to hear everything you’ve got to say. So start talking.”
For a moment, it looked as though the smaller man might argue, but then, he conceded and gave an indolent shrug, as if none of this was consequential at all.
“It is quite simple really,” Jean Claude said in what Julie realized was a reedy, almost whiny voice. “The delightful Julie and I were never really divorced. So you have married a married woman, my good man.”
Julie’s heart stuttered a little, but she swallowed hard and pulled in a deep breath. She couldn’t really believe this was happening, but it was hard to avoid the truth.
From a distance, the muted sounds of her wedding reception were nothing more than a soft, white noise. She glanced down at the gold, diamond-studded band on her left ring finger. Sunlight caught the channel-set stones and winked with a dazzling shine and glitter. Travis had only put it on her an hour ago. Why the devil hadn’t Jean Claude stopped the wedding before it was too late? Groaning quietly, she buried her left hand in the folds of her wedding gown so that she wouldn’t have to look at the ring again.
Marrying for King's Millions Page 2
