Semiautomatic Marriage

by Leona Karr

  “But it may not continue to be so when you take up residency there,” Adam warned her. “Remember, Carolyn, in the end you will be the one to decide if any changes need to be made. Everything has been put on hold since your grandfather’s death.”

  “Until all the legalities are finalized,” Bancroft said, “I can arrange for generous funds to be available to you to take care of your immediate financial needs.” As he continued to expand on the details of the will, Carolyn’s doubts began to fade, and a flood of questions took their place.

  Adam leaned toward her and waited for her eyes to meet his before he said, “It’s important that I share some disturbing facts with you now, Carolyn, before you move into the role of a wealthy heiress.”

  Heiress. The word lacked any meaning for her. She’d never had enough money to cover her monthly expenses. Her secondhand car had more than a hundred thousand miles on it. At the moment she was unemployed since no one had jumped at her résumé or brand-new medical degree.

  “Your grandfather’s death was a surprise to everyone,” Adam told her. “Very unfortunate.”

  “Was he ill?” she asked, wishing she could have been at his side. Her medical training might have counted for something if she could have cared for him.

  The way Carolyn’s expectant gaze was fixed on him made Adam wish he had more than just empirical facts to tell her. He knew she was in for another shock. “No, it wasn’t illness that ended his life. I’m sorry I have to tell you that your grandfather was a victim of a hit-and-run driver.”

  She stared at him, a sickening lump lodged in her throat. Maybe her grandfather had planned to reveal himself to her, but met an untimely death before it happened. She felt an even greater loss, knowing how he’d died.

  “Stanford was killed in a waterfront location, and there seems to be some question whether his death was accidental.”

  At first his words refused to penetrate. Then she said in disbelief, “You mean someone deliberately hit him?”

  “We don’t know. That’s why I’m here, Carolyn.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a badge. “I’m a federal investigator, and among other things, I’m assigned to cover your grandfather’s suspicious death.”

  “You’re not a lawyer? I mean, I thought—”

  “I work for the FDA. Mr. Bancroft asked me to be here because he knows I’ve been investigating Arthur Stanford’s affairs. Since you are his beneficiary, you’ll be able to help me.”

  “Help you? With what? I don’t see—”

  “You’ll be in a position to look into every aspect of the company and have access to family affairs.”

  She gave a shaky laugh as she shook her head. “I have no idea what you have in mind, but I certainly need more time and information before I can handle any of this.” She stood up. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but my head is reeling. You’ll have to excuse me.”

  “I know this is a lot to absorb in such a short time,” Adam readily agreed. “But time is of the utmost importance, Carolyn. I hate to pressure you, but…”

  “I never make decisions under pressure. Whatever you have to say, Mr. Lawrence, will have to wait.” She used her professional tone, masking the racing of her heart.

  An heiress. A mansion. Horizon.

  She gave them both a mechanical smile and hurriedly left the office. Maybe all this was on the up-and-up, but her emotions were in such a tangle at the moment she couldn’t be sure. Could it really be that her grandfather had found her? She wanted to believe the unbelievable, but her intuition was quivering like an antenna trying to catch warning vibes. The handsome Adam Lawrence, obviously, wanted a commitment of some kind from her. What was his real agenda? Why had the lawyer included him in the meeting? There’d been moments she’d instinctively responded to his smile and the touch of his hand, but now she wondered if he’d been deliberately manipulating her emotions.

  With her thoughts whirling like an off-center helicopter, she crossed the lot to her car, parked at the back of the small brick building. Her hands trembled as she unlocked the door of her old car. After sliding into the worn front seat, she sat there for a long minute. She needed to go home, go over all the legal papers again, get on the Internet and see what information she could pull up on Horizon Pharmaceuticals. As her analytical approach to problems settled her emotions, she turned the key in the ignition.

  The engine refused to turn over. After repeated tries she slapped the steering wheel in exasperation. She’d been having trouble with it for more than a month, but had been trying to put off the expense of car repair as long as possible.

  She silently swore and then tried again, but no luck. The irony of the situation hit her when she looked out the window and saw Adam Lawrence walking across the parking lot, heading for her car. It was obvious from his expression that he’d heard the starter grinding.

  She had little choice but to roll down the window and nod at his friendly “Won’t start, huh?”

  His grin only made her feel more testy. Brilliant deduction. Were all FDA agents so perceptive?

  “Would you like me to try?” he offered.

  “Thanks, but don’t bother.” She didn’t want to prolong the embarrassment. It didn’t take a mechanic to know that the old car was heading for the junkyard. What to do now? Leave it? Take a bus home and see if her AAA insurance was still in force? “I think I’ll just let it sit for a while.”

  “How about I run you home and you can call someone to look at it?”

  “No need to put you to that trouble,” she answered quickly.

  “It’s no trouble. Just tell me how to get there. I’m still trying to find my way around Seattle.”

  As she hesitated, he saw a flicker of indecision in her eyes. He could tell that she was tempted to accept his offer. The stalled car could be a blessing in disguise. Her sudden departure from the meeting had left him wondering how to initiate further contact with her. It was imperative to move quickly to enlist her help. He was relieved when she nodded.

  As they walked to his car, he made an idle comment about the gathering rain clouds. “There’s more rain here in a week than we have in a whole season back home.”

  “The natives call it liquid sunshine,” she informed him with a faint smile.

  “I grew up in New Mexico. Ever been there?” he asked, hoping to make the situation seem casual and friendly.

  “No, but I don’t think I’d like it,” she said frankly. “I’d miss the water.”

  He could tell from her pensive expression that her thoughts were beyond any casual chitchat. Not that he could blame her. She’d been given a double whammy. Learning the identity of her grandfather would have been shock enough, but the inheritance on top of that would knock anyone for a loop. He knew from her case history that she possessed a dogged will that had obviously shaped her life. The vulnerable innocence about her was utterly deceptive. She wouldn’t be easily persuaded to fall in line with his plans.

  As she sat in the seat beside him, he was aware of her appealing femininity, the lines and curves of her body. Her summer blouse molded the fullness of her breasts, and its open collar revealed the smooth lines of her neck. A faint floral scent teased his nostrils, and he realized that he’d been without feminine company far too long.

  She told him the address of her apartment and gave him directions. He related a couple of humorous experiences he’d had trying to find his way in foreign countries and was rewarded with a slight smile.

  “Have you traveled abroad quite a bit?” she asked.

  “Not really. South America, mostly. I lived in Brazil for a couple of years. I served as the judicial attaché at the United States Embassy and coordinated evidence of drug-related activities.”

  “I see. And when you came back to the States, you became an FDA agent?”

  “Yes.”

  As he fell silent, Carolyn was aware of the change in him. A shadow passed over his eyes, and she sensed that for some reason the subject was painful for him. What had happ
ened in his career, she wondered, to put that kind of pain in his expression? She remembered how very intense he’d been in the lawyer’s office. Obviously Bancroft had asked him to be there, and she had cut him off when he tried to explain his interest in her sudden legacy.

  “Is this the place?” he asked as he pulled up in front of the large house owned by an elderly widow from whom she rented an upstairs apartment.

  “Yes, this is…home.” She hesitated slightly over the word as she reached for the door handle. She was still feeling overwhelmed, but a blessed detachment had begun to ease her bewilderment.

  “Carolyn, could we talk a minute? I know your head must be swimming with all this, but I really need to share some things with you. Would you just hear me out? It’s important. There are some decisions that have to be made.”

  “I’m not ready to make decisions of any kind,” she answered firmly. “I’ve read about people who suddenly come into money and how they’re hounded by the public, pulled this way and that. Everyone with his hands out and—”

  “This isn’t about money,” he said curtly. “It’s about the welfare of a lot of people. Your decision to become a doctor had something to do with your dedication to the public interest, I assume.”

  “I don’t think my dedication is the issue here,” she said evenly. “Don’t you understand? I’m too stunned to even comprehend what all this means. I need time, information and the insight to make some decisions. I really don’t know what you expect from me.”

  “You will, if you’ll give me a chance to explain. Please, Carolyn. Just hear me out. Then I’ll give you the time you need to come to terms with what I’m asking.”

  His gray eyes were like grappling hooks locking her gaze with his. An undefined warning stirred deep within her. She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t. Whether she wanted to or not, she was going to have to deal with this.

  She moistened her lips. “All right. But not here in the car. We can talk better inside.”

  He nodded, and quickly got out and came around the car to open her door. Without talking, they walked around the house to the outside staircase that led to her apartment. She could feel his warm breath on her neck as she secured her key in the lock and opened the door.

  The tiny kitchen was a mess. She’d slept in late and barely made it to her ten o’clock appointment with Bancroft. The tiny living room wasn’t much better, and Carolyn wished she’d shut the bedroom door so he couldn’t see the discarded clothes on her bed. She’d tried on several outfits before deciding on the summer skirt and blouse.

  She swallowed back any apologies or explanation. The apartment was sparsely furnished with the land-lady’s cast-off furniture. Most of it would have gone begging at a garage sale. An old, scarred desk was loaded down with medical books, papers and a small computer.

  In an effort to add some color and personal touches, Carolyn had hung some framed calendar prints and bought a small plant stand. She rarely had any kind of company, and the place looked exactly what it was—rented space.

  She avoided looking at Adam as he sat down on the lumpy couch and she took a nearby faded chair. What was he thinking? Why had he intruded on her privacy like this? She was suddenly aware of his masculine presence and the way it filled up the room. He’d left his summer sports jacket in the car and had loosened the matching tie. His short dark hair set off his black eyebrows and arresting gray eyes. His well-built, six-foot frame revealed strong shoulder and arm muscles, and as he casually settled himself into a comfortable position, she resented that he was sending her thoughts into places where she’d placed permanent Keep Out signs.

  Her tone was brisker than she’d intended when she said, “All right, I’m listening. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  A flicker of expressions like shadows played across his face as he studied her without answering. Then, to her surprise, instead of speaking, he rose abruptly to his feet and walked over to the window. The way he stood there, staring out, she realized that he was experiencing some kind of emotional turmoil of his own. She’d seen patients caught in that same kind of mental maze, and she remained silent, waiting for him to respond.

  He stood there for what seemed like an eternity before he turned around and repeated, “What is this all about?”

  He walked back to the couch and sat down again. “This is about Marietta.”

  “Marietta?” Carolyn echoed.

  “My late wife. I lost her. She suffered a cruel and painful death.”

  During her internship at the hospital, she’d seen grief of many kinds. Some people wore the loss of a loved one on the outside, like a mourning cloak, while others held their grief inside, deep and private. It was clear to her that this man’s filled the very breath and soul of his being. Until that moment she hadn’t really connected with him, but now she saw him from a different perspective, and she felt drawn to him on a level she didn’t understand.

  “I’m so very sorry,” she said, and moved over to the couch beside him.

  He searched her face as if to judge the sincerity of her words as he began to talk about himself. “After I graduated from law school, I took a position as judicial attaché at the United States Embassy in Brazil. I coordinated evidence and information on illegal-substance traffic between the U.S. and Brazil.” He paused. “Marietta worked as a translator at the embassy. We’d only been married a few months when she suffered an infection and died from liver failure after a doctor unknowingly gave her an unapproved drug that had found its way into the country through the black market.” Carolyn saw the hard set of his jaw and the way his gray eyes glittered like honed steel. “That pharmaceutical drug came from Horizon.”

  Her stomach took a sickening plunge. “How can you be sure?”

  “Drugs are produced in batches,” he explained. “Each bottle has the batch number on it, along with the name of the company that manufactured it. The bottle of bad pills that killed Marietta came from Horizon Pharmaceuticals, but when the FDA tried to verify it, the company records showed that a batch with that number had never been produced by the company.”

  “Then the drug your wife took was a counterfeit,” Carolyn said, frowning.

  “That’s what the authorities believed. I came back to the U.S. a few months ago and found the investigation at a standstill. It’s true that illegal organizations that produce counterfeit drugs do their best to duplicate the appearance of the drug by using bottles of the same size, shape and the same kind of labeling.”

  “So Horizon is telling the truth?”

  “I don’t think so, and this is why. It’s almost impossible to produce an exact match in every detail to an authentic bottle of pills. The size of the lettering may be wrong, the color of the label slightly off, the plastic bottle lighter or heavier, the pills flatter or more rounded. But in this instance, everything in the bottle of pills that killed Marietta is an exact duplicate to one produced by Horizon.”

  “How could that be if the company has no record?”

  “For the past year products from Horizon have shown up illegally on various foreign black markets, and until now there hasn’t been a way for me to penetrate company operations and conduct an on-the-spot investigation.”

  Until now. The way he was looking at her left no doubt in her mind what those words meant. She stiffened. He was here with an agenda of his own, and his next words verified it.

  “You can provide me with a legitimate cover for my investigation. If I can get in a position to examine the workings of the company from the inside, I’m confident I can find out how black-market drugs that don’t meet FDA standards are being illegally circulated in other countries.” He reached over and took her hand. “That’s why I need your help. You can provide me with a legitimate cover for my investigation.”

  “How can I do that?” she protested. “I’m totally inexperienced, and it will take time for me to make any changes. You would stick out like a sore thumb if I tried right off to put you in any kind of pos
ition at Horizon.”

  “I know. That’s why we’d have to arrange something different. I’ll need a cover that will give me intimate access to the workings of the company.”

  The steadiness of his gaze told Carolyn that he had already decided what that cover should be. She felt a strange quiver in her stomach, like someone about to take a plunge off a cliff with a bungee cord tied around her ankle.

  “When you arrive at Horizon for the first time, Carolyn, I need to be there with you—as your husband.”

  She choked on her intake of breath. “My husband?”

  “In name only,” he hastened to reassure her. “Don’t you see? It’s the perfect cover!”

  Chapter Two

  “You want to pretend to be my husband?” Her incredulous tone was a mixture of amusement and indignation.

  “Well, not pretend, exactly.”

  “Then what exactly?” Her eyes narrowed and she stiffened beside him.

  Adam sensed her instant withdrawal and silently cursed. Damn! He’d come at this the wrong way. What to do now?

  He stood up, took a few aimless steps and then eased down on a corner of the old desk. He hoped he could handle the situation better if he wasn’t close enough to be aware of every breath she drew. Aware of her soft, womanly warmth. Now, he had to lay all his cards out on the table, and fast. Above all, he had to be honest with her. She wasn’t about to jump into anything with her eyes closed.

  “It wouldn’t all be pretend,” he explained, not wanting to hold anything back. “I mean, we’d have to perform all the legalities and officially be husband and wife in case anyone decided to check for a marriage license.”

  “We would go through a wedding ceremony and be legally married.” She tried to keep her voice even. “Is that what you’re saying?”