She looked up, puzzled. "But aren't you and Shane going back to San Francisco?"
Shane answered. "No. Not tonight. Go with Mark and enjoy yourself and tomorrow we'll take you back to your hometown and make whatever arrangements have to be made about the fire."
Afterward Karen knew it would have taken her days to handle all the business details that Mark and Shane took care of in a few hours. They insisted on seeing the burned-out ruin of her house and talking to the police about it. They were told that the police suspected vandals had set the fire either accidentally or deliberately to cover their mischief. Everything was gone— even her car, which had been in the garage. Shane and Mark were closeted with the realtor for almost an hour and she was called in only when there were papers to sign. She suspected that there had been a few debts that Shane had paid but he refused to discuss it and, anyway, there was nothing she could do about it now. It just put her further into his debt.
On Tuesday, Shane and Mark dropped Karen at the house and went back to San Francisco, and Karen had her first confrontation with Mrs. Whitney since the unpleasantness over her room. When Mrs. Whitney came to announce in stiff, formal tones that dinner was ready to be served Karen said, "Oh, Mrs. Whitney, it's not necessary to serve my meals in the dining room when I'm here alone. I'll eat in the kitchen with the rest of you."
Mrs. Whitney's lips pressed together and her voice was filled with disdain as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Miss, I couldn't possibly allow that. Mr. McKittrick left specific orders that you are a guest. It would never do for you to take your meals with the servants. If you would like to be seated I will serve the first course."
Her words were servile, exaggeratedly respectful, but she made no attempt to hide the hate that shone from her eyes. Karen knew she had made an enemy—a dangerous one!
On Friday, Shane and Mark came back. This time Karen was not scrubbing Shane's bathtub when he got there but pacing up and down the front porch, dodging hanging baskets of begonias and wishing she could calm down and be cool and collected. She'd spent her days working hard so she wouldn't have to think, but by evening her eyes burned too badly to continue her cataloguing and she had nothing to do but ponder over Shane and his preposterous proposal. He wasn't proposing to her so why should she lose sleep over it? But she did. Part of the time she was incensed at his callousness. At other times she was filled with compassion for the man who had been hurt so badly by his mother's desertion that it warped his whole attitude toward women. But worst of all were the times when her undisciplined mind dwelt on the woman he would choose for the mother of his child. She would be like Audrey, tall and curvacious, beautiful and well educated with a pedigree like a show dog. In her mind's eye she could see Shane holding this paragon of a woman in his arms as he slowly undressed her, all the while trailing kisses over the bare skin he was exposing.
She banged her head on the scarlet begonia for the fifth time and indulged in a few well-chosen swear words. It was then that Shane chose to swing his powerful car into the driveway. He ignored Mark sitting in the seat beside him and slammed the door behind him as Karen ran across the porch. He strode past her with only a brief greeting and went into the house.
After an uncomfortable dinner, they had coffee in the den, a smaller, more intimate room than the living room, and Karen could no longer hold back the question that had been tormenting her all evening. She was sitting at one end of the tan leather sofa and Mark sat at the other end. Thick fog, no stranger to the Monterey coast, had settled in with its inevitable chill and Shane had just finished lighting a fire in the stone fireplace that covered one wall and was sitting on the raised hearth with a margarita in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Karen drained her coffee cup and put it on the highly polished redwood coffee table as she said, "Shane, have you had any answers to your ad?"
He made no pretense of not knowing what she was talking about. "Yes. They've been coming in all week. Mark tells me there are more than a hundred."
Karen gasped. "So many! Have you—have you made a decision yet?"
She held her breath, hoping he'd say no, afraid he'd say yes. He didn't get a chance to say anything, Mark answered for him. "Fat chance!" he snorted. "I've narrowed the pile down to thirty who seem to be qualified but Shane won't even look at the applications."
"I've been busy," Shane snapped.
"Not so busy you couldn't have taken an hour or so to go through them and tell me which girls you want interviewed. I'd like to get the appointments set up as soon as possible." Mark took a long swig of his whiskey.
"Why do you insist on a stranger, Shane? You must know plenty of women with class and breeding who would qualify? Why advertise for a woman you don't know? Aren't you taking an awful chance?"
Shane ground out his cigarette and looked at her as if he wondered how she could ask such a stupid question. "None of the women I know would agree to my terms. They all have plenty of money and security and if one of them married me it would be because of the social and political advantages of being Mrs. Shane McKittrick. She might give me the baby I want, but she'd never give me the divorce."
He twirled the stem of his glass between his hands as he continued. "And don't lose any sleep worrying about my future wife's background. I had you thoroughly checked out before I ever came to see you and I'll do the same with anyone else I choose."
Karen couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But you can't get that kind of information without the person's permission!"
"Oh, come on, Karen, are you really that naive?" His tone was bitter. "With enough money and influence you can buy anything you want. For instance, I know you had German measles at the age of five, your mother's illness was not hereditary, your father's heart attack was a myocardial infarction and that you are still, shall we say, 'innocent'."
Karen gasped, struck speechless with shock. It wasn't possible! Information like that just wasn't given out without permission from the patient! His last words echoed in her mind. She dropped her flushed face in her hands and a small shudder shook her. Mark reached over and patted her knee; Shane reacted instantly.
"Leave her alone, damn it! She has to learn the facts of life sometime. She can't live in a dream world forever."
"You don't have to be so brutal!" Mark was seething with anger. "There was no need to embarrass her!"
Shane looked away and said almost to himself, "There was a time when being a virgin was a cause for pride, not shame."
Mark tensed, and Karen knew she'd better change the subject or she'd have to deal with a full-blown quarrel. Before Mark could retort, she turned to Shane and asked, "If you insist on a divorce and custody of the baby as soon as it's born, who's going to raise it? A baby needs its mother."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Shane exploded. "Look at Carrie Tyler and little Danny. You told me yourself that she was a rotten mother. The child was much better off with you, the baby-sitter."
Karen cringed. He was using an extreme case but she couldn't deny that some women simply weren't cut out to be mothers. Shane was still watching her, waiting for an answer, and she said the first thing that came to her.
"That's true and Danny will suffer for it. I still say an infant needs someone to love it, and care for it, and teach it how to respond to that love and care."
Shane set down his glass so hard that it shattered on the stone hearth. He didn't seem to notice as he glared at her. "All right, I won't argue that point. But just because a woman has a baby doesn't mean she's qualified to care for it. I'll hire a warm, maternal woman to care for my child. In fact, that's a job I will hire you for. Would you like to raise my son, Karen?"
Mark sat forward and his voice rang through the room. "Shane!" There was a warning in his tone.
Karen knew Shane was being sarcastic, prodding her, hoping to find her weak points, but she wondered if he knew how badly that last thrust had hurt! She jumped up and faced him, unable to deal with the emotions that were building up in her as she said, "No! I'm going to have my
own children. If you want me to raise your son, Shane, you'll have to marry me and make me his mother!"
She stopped, appalled by what she had just suggested. The tension mounted as both Shane and Mark stared at her, open mouthed with amazement. What was the matter with her? How could she even think about taking part in Shane's monstrous scheme, let alone talk about it? She would never marry knowing ahead of time that it would end in divorce. If she loved a man she would want to be married to him all the rest of her life, and if she didn't love him nothing could induce her to marry him. But what if she loved him and he didn't love her? Would she be willing to bargain for whatever amount of time he would give her? Was she in love with Shane? She shuddered inwardly as the truth finally occurred to her. How could she have been so blind? She must have been in love with Shane almost since she met him—at least, since their picnic. She was in love with a man who would never love anyone!
She tore her gaze away from his shocked face and turned so she couldn't see him. Her voice trembled as she said, "Shane, if I had your child would you let me keep him with me. Would you let me raise him?"
A strangled sound came from Mark, but it was Shane's hands she felt on her shoulders, his body she leaned back against. "I might," he said huskily, "if you would agree to turn him over to me when he's older."
She turned to look at him and then she was in his arms, his mouth on hers blotting out all doubts about her feelings for him. She clung to him, afraid he would push her away, but he molded her to him and she could feel the quickening of his desire for her. The knowledge enflamed her and her lips parted under his as her fingers twisted themselves in his dark hair.
Somewhere in the background a door slammed and she knew Mark had stormed out, upset and angry. She didn't care, but apparently the same sound brought Shane back to reality because he broke off the kiss and nuzzled the side of her neck, his voice hoarse with passion. "Don't tempt me, Karen. I'm only human and especially vulnerable where you're concerned."
He picked her up and carried her to the couch, where he sat down with her across his lap. She caressed his cheek with her hand and he kissed her again, this time making a determined effort to keep his passion under control.
"You'd be a fool to get involved with me," he whispered against the corner of her mouth.
"I know." She moved her head slightly so his lips were on hers again.
"Then why?" It was almost a cry of pain.
Some instinct warned her against telling him the truth—that she was in love with him and hoped that eventually he would love her, too. She knew he would send her away immediately. He didn't want the ties of love. All he wanted was passion—and a son.
His hand cupped her breast and she kissed the pulse that was hammering at the base of his throat as she lied. "I'm not sure. Maybe I like the idea of lifelong financial security."
She felt him stiffen and his hand moved to tilt her face toward him. "So, my little child-woman is mercenary after all. I should have known." The bitterness in his voice whipped her as he pushed her off his lap. "Well, if you want to sell yourself to me I don't see why I shouldn't take advantage of it. We should have a very superior child together."
She knew she'd hurt him but couldn't understand how. She'd thought she was saying what he wanted to hear. With a weary sigh, he leaned back and closed his eyes. For the first time Karen saw the lines of exhaustion in his face. She'd often heard him talking business with Mark and knew of the killing schedule he kept during the week, and last weekend he had entertained a large number of guests here at his home. Now she'd managed to upset him again. Maybe he'd rest if he were more comfortable.
She reached over and started to unknot his tie as she spoke, hesitantly. "Shane, I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say." She pulled the tie carefully from around his neck and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt. "You've made it clear that all you want is a baby."
He pulled her into his arms. She snuggled against him and laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder as she started to unbutton his vest.
He stroked his long fingers through her tumbled brown hair and kissed her forehead as he said in a tired voice, "It's all right; I'm only getting what I asked for, which is more than I deserve."
His fingers under her chin lifted her face to his once more. His dark eyes searched her green ones as he murmured, "And, Karen, if you want to remain a virgin until our wedding night, you'd better stop undressing me."
Chapter Five
The two weeks between Karen's decision to marry Shane and the wedding were the most bewildering and hectic fourteen days she'd ever spent. First there was the premarital contract to be drawn up. She'd never even heard of a premarital contract before, and when Shane mentioned it, Mark turned purple and sputtered, "Karen's not signing anything without my consent as her legal representative!"
Mark used every possible argument to talk Karen out of marrying Shane. "You're too young—you don't know what you're doing! Shane will use you and then send you away, ruthlessly, without shame or guilt. If you're that desperate for security, marry me!" He paused as though startled by what he had said, then grinned. "I'm a little in love with you already. With a small amount of encouragement I could start thinking in terms of wedding rings and wet diapers."
Karen's eyes were wide with surprise as she stammered, "Mark, please, I—"
Mark shrugged. "I know. You like me but Shane's the one you love."
Her whole body jerked. How could Mark know she was in love with Shane when she hadn't even know it herself until yesterday? She started to protest but he waved a hand to stop her.
"Don't worry, Karen, Shane's too wrapped up in his own problems to know what you're feeling unless you tell him, but I'm not that detached. I know you'd never marry a man unless you loved him, and you're headed for heartbreak. Karen, listen to me. It's easier to walk out on him now than it will be a year from now. Don't do this to yourself!"
She was strangely moved by the eloquence of his plea. Dear Mark, he really was concerned about her. If only she had fallen in love with him! She smiled and her green eyes were bright with unshed tears of gratitude as she said, "Thank you, Mark, for caring, but it's too late. I'm already committed and I don't want to back out. If you really want to protect me, see to it that I'm guaranteed custody of my baby after Shane and I are divorced."
So Mark fought with Shane and his lawyer. Shane's first offer was to let Karen keep the baby for a year. Mark didn't even bother to discuss it with Karen. With a lot of shouting and table pounding they worked their way up, year by year, until they reached eight. Then Shane dug in his heels and refused to negotiate further. In a dangerously calm voice he said, "That's as far as I'll go. It's eight years longer than I'd give any other woman, and if Karen won't agree to it we'll simply forget the whole thing and I'll interview some of the other applicants."
Reluctantly, Mark brought the final contract to Karen. The divorce and settlement had never been in dispute and now Karen was faced with the decision of whether or not to give up her child when he reached the age of eight. She read it over carefully with Mark, then took it to her room and spent hours pondering over it. Eight years seemed like a long time—it was almost half her lifetime. By the time her son—if it was a son—was eight he would have outgrown his dependence on her. From then on he would need his father to teach him to become a man. It wasn't as if she'd never see him again. She'd have liberal visiting rights and Shane had agreed to let her have him during the summer vacations. She knew Mark had pushed Shane as far as he would be pushed. Now it was up to her.
The following morning she signed the premarital agreement and Shane began making plans for the wedding.
Mark left for San Francisco the next day, but Shane stayed, and Karen dared to hope they could spend the days before the wedding getting to know each other better, developing that special closeness that engaged couples should have. She was doomed to disappointment. The next morning Shane met her at breakfast with a pad of paper and a clip
board. Without even a handshake, let alone a kiss, he began the interrogation.
"Do you want to be married in the church in your hometown?" he asked.
Karen thought for a minute, then shook her head. "No. It would be too painful without Mother and Dad and I haven't any other relatives." She looked around and a thought occurred to her. "Would you mind if we were married here?"
He looked startled. "Here? You mean at the house?"
She nodded. "It's such a beautiful place. We could set up an altar in front of the glass wall and have the Pacific ocean as a backdrop."
He shrugged and made a notation on the note pad. "All right, if that's what you want. Is there a special minister you'd like?"
She shook her head. "Would you mind if we were married in a civil ceremony?"
His eyes sought hers as he said, "Are you sure?"
"I don't know any ministers around here and, besides, a minister would want us to go for premarital counseling. I don't think either of us wants that."
He chuckled. "You're so right." He made another notation on his pad. "Now, the reception. Do you want that here at the house, too?"
"Oh, yes, if there's to be a reception it should be here." She frowned. "Shane, will it be a very big wedding?"
He glanced up from his notes. "That depends on the size of your list."
"My—my list?" she said uncertainly.
"Your guest list." He sounded impatient. "There are about two hundred people I'd like to invite. A few are close friends and the rest are business associates who would feel slighted if they weren't asked. We'll send telegrams since there isn't time to have invitations printed and mailed, so give me your list no later than this evening."
Temporary Bride Page 6
