Billionaire Bachelors: Stone

by Anne Marie Winston

  She shot a questioning glance at him. He’d better get a grip. She was going to think this meant more to him than it did. All he wanted, he reminded himself, was to inherit the company that had been his mother’s family’s. He’d known before he’d ever embarked on this course of action that this was to be a marriage with a finite limit of time. And in any case, he had no business even thinking about Faith in any terms other than those of a…a what? A guardian and his ward was definitely too archaic. A sister? No, there was no way he could ever condition himself to think of her as a sister. A friend? There. They could be friends. That was by far the most suitable description of their relationship, both now and in the future.

  Inside him, though, there was a little voice laughing uproariously. A friend? Does kissing a friend get you so hot and bothered you barely remember your own mother is in the room?

  Shut up, he told the voice. Just—shut—up.

  But all he said aloud to Faith was “That’s great. Thank you.”

  Friday morning finally arrived. Standing in the courthouse with his mother, he checked his watch. Almost time. Where the hell was Faith? He knew he should have made her move in before this. Then he could have kept an eye on her, made sure she didn’t get cold feet.

  It had been a surprisingly long week. He’d caught himself glancing at his watch throughout meetings and conference calls practically every hour since he’d dropped Faith off at her apartment to pack on Monday after her private showing of wedding dresses.

  Which she hadn’t let him see.

  He frowned. Whoever would have suspected the stubborn streak hiding behind that angelic face? It would be bad luck, she’d told him.

  Just then, an older woman walked around the corner. Spying him, her face lit up and she hurried forward. “Hello, Mr. Lachlan. We’re here.”

  It was…what was her name? Clarice. Faith’s mother’s…friend. Caregiver. Whatever.

  “Hello, Clarice,” he said. “Have you seen Faith?”

  “Oh, she’s here. We all came together.” Clarice extended a hand to his mother. “Hello. I’m Clarice Nealy, Faith’s mother’s companion.”

  He felt a dull embarrassment at his lapse of manners. “Oh, sorry. Clarice, this is my mother, Eliza Smythe.” The two women shook hands.

  His mother only smiled at him. “We forgive you.” To Clarice, she said, “He’s going to have a stroke if he doesn’t get to see his bride soon.”

  Stone ignored that and consulted his watch. “It’s our turn. What is she doing?” Impatiently he strode toward the corner, but Clarice’s voice stopped him.

  “No, no. You go in. Faith and her mother will be here in a moment.”

  He frowned, but when his mother took his arm, he sighed and led her into the room.

  The justice of the peace stood at the front of the room in front of a wooden rail. To one side of him was a massive raised bench behind which the man presided over his courtroom, with state and national flags displayed behind it. He looked a little startled as Stone and his mother walked forward. “Hello. You are Stone Lachlan and Faith Harrell?”

  Eliza Smythe started to chuckle. “No. The bride isn’t here yet.”

  Just then, the door to the small chamber opened and he caught a glimpse of Clarice’s beaming face as she held it wide. Faith’s mother, seated on a motorized scooter, whirred into the room and stopped just inside the door. Then Faith stepped into the doorway and reached for her mother’s hand.

  The whole room seemed to freeze for one long moment as he simply stared. His heart leaped, then settled down to a fast thudding in his chest.

  She looked stunning. As she walked toward him, pacing herself to the speed of her mother’s scooter at her side, he had to remind himself to breathe.

  She had chosen a short dress rather than anything long and formal. An underlayer was made of some shiny satiny fabric that fit her like a second skin, showcasing her slender figure. The satin, covered by a thin, lacy overlayer, was strapless and low-cut and against his will his eyes were drawn to the shadowed swell of creamy flesh revealed above its edge. Over the satin, the sheath of fine sheer lace covered her up to the neck, though it clearly wasn’t designed to hide anything, but rather to enhance. This layer had long close-fitting sleeves and extended in a lacy scallop just below the hem of the underdress.

  He took in the rest of her. Her hair was up in a smooth, gleaming fancy twist of some kind and she wore flowers in it, arranged around a crown of shining gems. As he recalled his reference to royalty, he had to suppress a grin. She’d done that deliberately, the little tease. She carried the small but exquisite trailing bouquet of palest peach roses, Peruvian lilies and white dendrobium orchids with touches of feathery greens that he’d sent to her. The subtle touch of color was the perfect enhancement for the glowing white of the dress.

  It didn’t escape his notice that she’d chosen pure, virginal white for her wedding day. Probably a good thing, since it served to remind him of the liaison they had—and its limits.

  Limits. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to show her the pleasures of lovemaking. For an instant, he allowed himself to imagine that this was real, that the beautiful, desirable woman coming toward him would be his wife in every way. If this was real, it would be just the beginning. He would enjoy the incredible pleasures her soft body promised, and come home to her warm arms every night. In due course they would add children to their family—

  Whoa! Children? He gave himself a firm mental kick in the butt.

  Faith had reached his side by now and he surveyed her face as she turned to kiss her mother and then his. She wore more makeup than usual and the normal beauty of her features now approached a porcelain perfection. Her skin seemed lit by an inner radiance. She’d curled small wisps of her hair and it gently bounced around her face in soft, shining waves that made him want to sink his fingers into it simply to experience the texture. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t touch her in any but the most innocuous of ways.

  The justice cleared his throat and Stone realized the ceremony was about to begin. His mother flanked him and Naomi maneuvered her scooter to Faith’s far side. Clarice took a seat in the small rows of chairs behind them. He extended his arm to Faith and she took it, smiling up at him tentatively.

  He didn’t smile back. The reminder that this was a forced union of sorts had ruined the moment for him. This was a ridiculous charade, necessitated by the intransigence of his mother. It was, at best, an inconvenience, an interruption, in his life as well as Faith’s. There was nothing to smile about.

  The smile faded from her face when he didn’t respond and she dropped her gaze. Her face abruptly assumed the serene contours he knew meant she was hiding her thoughts from the world, and she turned toward the official who was beginning the ceremony.

  Too late to catch her eye, he regretted his action. Now he felt like a real bastard. She’d clearly wanted a little reassurance. He glanced down at her fine profile as she stood beside him, one small hand resting in the crook of his arm. To his dismay, he realized she was blinking rapidly, her silver eyes misted with a sheen of tears. Damn!

  Acting on instinct, he raised his free hand and covered hers on his opposite arm, squeezing gently.

  She looked up at him again and offered him a wobbly smile. Remorse shot through him. She was only twenty years old. He doubted this was what she’d envisioned when she’d dreamed of her wedding day, even though she’d insisted on this extreme simplicity when they’d discussed it.

  He smiled down at her as he passed an arm behind her back and gave her shoulders a gentle hug. She felt small and soft beneath his hand, and he liked the way her slender curves pressed against his side far too well. Tough. He wasn’t going to do anything about that but he could make this day less of a chore for each of them.

  The ceremony was short and impersonal as the justice of the peace sealed the bonds of matrimony with swift efficiency. Faith spoke her responses in a quiet, steady tone, looking down at their hands as the
y exchanged rings and in a shockingly brief matter of minutes, they were legally bound.

  The justice looked incredibly bored; how many of these things did he perform in a week’s time? “You may kiss your bride,” the man intoned.

  Stone set his hands at Faith’s waist and drew her toward him. As his mouth descended, she raised her face to his and his lips slid onto hers. He froze for an instant, nearly seduced by the sweet, soft flesh of her full lips and the memory of the way she’d melted in his arms on Sunday night. But this couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, he told himself fiercely. Faith wasn’t experienced enough to know that sex and love were two distinct issues in a man’s mind. He would be courting a messy, emotional disaster if he couldn’t keep his distance from her. And so, steeling himself to the powerful allure of her person, he kept the kiss brief and impersonal, then drew back.

  He felt her go rigid beneath his hands, and he nearly apologized, but as the words formed, he realized how strange that would sound to the witnesses, so he swallowed the apology and settled instead for, “Are you ready to go?”

  Faith nodded. She wouldn’t look at him and he gritted his teeth against the urge to raise her chin and cover her lips with his own again.

  Oh, hell. No, no, and no! He wasn’t going to do anything stupid with Randall Harrell’s daughter. His ward. This marriage was just a business arrangement, of a sort.

  Of course it was.

  Faith woke early on her first morning as a married woman. For a moment, she didn’t recognize her surroundings and then it all came flooding back. Yesterday she had married Stone.

  Married. She raised her left hand and her new rings sparkled as the faceted stones caught the light. If it weren’t for these she’d think it had been a dream. Slowly she got to her feet and headed for the bathroom. As she showered and dressed, she couldn’t keep herself from reviewing the wedding ceremony, like a child who couldn’t resist picking at a healing wound.

  Stone had looked so handsome in the severe cut of the morning suit he’d worn. As she’d come into the courtroom, she’d allowed herself to fantasize, for one brief instant, that she was a real bride, flushed and brimming with love for her husband, taking his name and becoming part of his life forever. But then she’d looked into Stone’s eyes and seen nothing. Nothing. No feeling, no warmth. No love. He’d quickly tried to cover it up, but that first impression was indelibly stamped on her mind.

  She felt her bottom lip tremble and she bit down on it fiercely. For the first time, she allowed herself to acknowledge the depths of her disappointment. She hadn’t married Stone entirely because of their bargain. She’d married him because somewhere in the past week her silly, girlish crush had gelled into a deeper, more mature emotion.

  Oh, it hurt even to think it and she shied away from deeper examination of her feelings.

  Instead she replayed the wedding scene in her mind again. And she realized her shattered heart had forgotten something. He did have some feelings for her. Recalling the look in his eye the first night he’d kissed her, she knew with a deep inner feeling of feminine certainty that he wanted her, at least in the physical sense. And yesterday, for the briefest instant before his gaze had grown cool and distant, she’d seen the poleaxed look on his face as he absorbed the sight of her in her wedding dress. And she’d been gratified, because she’d chosen the unconventional wedding dress, her makeup and the soft, pretty hair-style for the express purpose of making him notice her.

  Yes, for that one unguarded moment, there had been no doubt that he wanted her. If she was going to remember the cold shoulder, she needed to cling to this memory, too. And though she knew it was foolish to believe she could parlay that basic sexual desire into a more lasting emotion, that was exactly what she hoped.

  He wanted her. It was a start. And she…she wanted him as well. Wanted him to be the one to teach her the intimacies of the sexual act, wanted him to make love to her. Maybe she could attract his feelings the same way her body attracted his.

  Perhaps they would begin to communicate better when they went on their honeymoon. Though she knew Stone hadn’t planned one, he’d told his mother they would be going away a few weeks from now. He’d only said it because Eliza had very pointedly asked where he intended to take Faith, she was certain. And she knew he would follow through if only to assuage any doubt in his mother’s mind about the veracity of their marriage.

  Buoyed by the thought, she made her bed and headed downstairs. The newspaper was lying on the kitchen counter and there was fresh coffee, signs that Stone must already be up. She hunted through the cupboards until she found cereal and dishes, and ate while she leafed through the paper. But all her nerve endings were quivering, alert, waiting for him to enter the room.

  When she heard him coming down the hall, she quickly ducked her head behind the paper again, looking up innocently as he entered. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He barely glanced at her as he headed for the coffeepot and poured himself a cup.

  “Quite, thank you. And you?”

  “Fine.” He sounded grumpy. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person, though he certainly looked like he was awake and alert. Lord, it simply wasn’t fair for the man to look so absolutely stunning first thing in the morning. He was as handsome to her as always and her heart rate increased as a wave of tenderness swept through her. She was his wife! Then she realized he was saying something else.

  “Your mother and Clarice will be moving in today. I have a company bringing her household up late this morning. Will you help her arrange everything when it arrives?”

  “Of course.” It shouldn’t bother her that he hadn’t asked her opinion. Although she’d have preferred to go down and help Clarice pack, she knew this way would be much faster and more efficient.

  Stone seemed unaware of her thoughts. “I know it’s Saturday but I have to go in to my office for a few hours, so I’ll leave that to you.” He opened the door of the refrigerator and she saw a large casserole dish. “That’s a chicken and broccoli casserole the housekeeper made and froze. I set it in there to thaw. If you want to invite your mother and Clarice to eat with us tonight, that’s fine with me.”

  She nodded. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do? Until the summer sessions begin, I’m going to have a ton of time on my hands. I have some accounting skills and I know my way around a computer. Maybe I could help in your office—”

  But he was chuckling. “I employ people to do all that,” he said. “Just consider the next two months a vacation.”

  Disappointment rushed through her for more than one reason. She hated to be idle. And working for him would give them something in common. “Oh, but I could use the experience—”

  “Tell you what,” he said, cutting her off again. “I know something you could do that would help immensely.”

  Thrilled, she sat up straighter. “What?”

  “The den,” he said.

  The den? What in the den?

  “I’ve never had it redecorated,” he continued. “It’s something I’ve thought about a lot and just never gotten around to doing. But it needs a facelift desperately. The easy chair my father sat in for years is still in there.” Now he looked at her hopefully. “Would you consider taking on that project?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Just tell me what color scheme you like. But also, I—”

  “I trust your judgment,” he said. “Anything fairly neutral.” He headed for the door, coffee cup in hand. “I’ve got to get going. I have an early meeting this morning. Enjoy your day.”

  “Oh, yeah, it ought to be a blast,” she muttered as she heard the front door close. Redecorate the den. Was he serious? She’d intended to help him at the office. She didn’t care if she was a receptionist. It would certainly be better experience than redecorating the stupid den! She should have told him how insulting she’d found that…giving her a little wifely project to do when what she really wanted was to be working for him, in whatever capacity h
e could use her.

  Yikes. Her mind took that last thought and gave it a distinctly sexual twist as the memory of his hard, hot body pressed against her side while they spoke their vows set her heart racing again. She still was trying to get used to the perpetual breathless state that being around Stone left her in since the night he’d kissed her in front of his mother and turned her world upside down.

  He’d kissed her when they’d gotten married, too, and though that had been only the merest correct meeting of lips, she was sure it had short-circuited some of her brain cells. It certainly had sealed her fate. And with that thought, she forced herself to face the truth.

  She hadn’t married Stone Lachlan because he needed her help. And she hadn’t married him because it was a way to pay him back for his financial support, or because he’d promised to take care of her mother, or because he had promised to help her finish school. No, she’d married him because she was in love with him.

  She took a deep breath. Okay, you’ve admitted it. She’d loved him, she supposed, for years under the guise of having a crush. Only the crush had deepened more and more as she’d come to know him, as she’d seen what a decent, honorable man he was, what a thoughtful, caring person—and how incredibly potent his appeal was.

  And that was her misfortune. He’d made it abundantly clear, over and over again, that this was a business arrangement, not one in which emotion was welcome.

  Well, tough. He might consider it business, but she was declaring war. She had a year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Surely within that time she could make herself such an integral part of his life that he’d wake up one day and realize he loved her, too.

  Having Faith’s mother and Clarice around the house wasn’t the burden he’d expected it to be, Stone thought a week later as he sat at the kitchen counter nursing a cup of coffee. In fact, it was a distinct blessing.

  He’d encouraged the older women to join them for dinner each night. And though they’d both protested at first, he’d made it his goal to charm them. And he’d succeeded. He hadn’t had to spend more than a few moments alone with Faith all week. Yes, inviting her mother here had been a great idea.