Love For Sale

by Linda Nightingale

“Yes, please, then you can pluck me down from the ceiling.”

  He chuckled but sobered instantly as he remembered a serious concern. Dread and reluctance held him silent as he delivered the steaming mug.

  She glanced up at him. “Thanks. Come help. Whoa, you look like you lost your best friend. What’s wrong?”

  Struggling for a way to begin, he drifted to the couch beside her. Anxiety prickled his neck. Head bowed, gazing at her through his lashes, he took the first step onto perilous ground. “Are we planning to be married in a church?”

  “Yes, I’d hoped to.” March frowned. “Why?”

  “I’m not human, not one of His creations, but a creation of Man.” He shrugged, his gaze sliding off hers. “Your God might be offended that an android dared take vows in His house.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. My God is a god of love.” She captured his chin with her fingers and turned his face toward her. “God created Man. Man created Mayfair who created you and your brothers and sisters. Therefore, He created you, too.”

  “I didn’t realize you believed in God.” He stroked her face with the back of his hand.

  “I didn’t realize you did either.”

  “When I was waiting for you in surgery, a woman came into the garden. She said she would pray for you. I was worried and felt helpless. I asked her to please pray.” He smiled, but a shadow had fallen. “And on your Profile, to the question Religion, you answered Christian.”

  She nodded. “That questionnaire took most of a morning.”

  Slipping an arm along her shoulders, he pressed a swift kiss to her lips. “I’m not worried, if you’re not.”

  How he hoped this god of love had heard his prayers for March’s recovery and her health. Like unruly waves, emotions surged in him, happiness drowning in worry. Any thought of the cancer darkened his mood, plunging him into fear.

  “I’m not worried at all. One, we know the wedding will be formal. Two, it will be in a church. I want a standard service, nothing fancy. I’ll carry white roses. The maid of honor will carry yellow roses. You will have a white rose boutonnière.” She turned to him for confirmation. “Does that sound good?”

  “Perfect. We must find the church, decide what kind of reception we’ll have, and where.” He gave her a quick, one-armed hug, loving the light of excitement in her eyes.

  Her anticipation banished the lingering shadow of fear. “A sit-down dinner would be nice, but a buffet would be cheaper.”

  Christian was still smiling when he glanced at the door and froze.

  ****

  March followed the direction of his gaze and cringed. The door framed her ex, a chill smile on his lips. He waved an overnight envelope. She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Not again. Why can’t these people get it right? He’s got my mail.”

  Paul pointed to the return address as if she could see it from this distance.

  Christian’s gaze sheered to hers. “I recognize the logo. The letter is from Mayfair Electronics. And it looks as if the envelope has been opened.”

  “Oh, hell.” Fear stabbed at her heart, sudden dizziness threatening to drag her into spinning blackness.

  She gritted her teeth, fighting to stay conscious. I won’t faint.

  What was in that envelope? It could well be proof her future husband wasn’t human.

  Reluctance dragged her footsteps, but her pulse raced. At last, she faced Paul through a barrier of glass. One hand fisted, the other clutching the envelope, he bared his teeth in a cruel, gloating smile. A dark feeling crept over her. The coffee soured in her stomach. He jabbed a rigid finger at the return address.

  “Open the door, March. I’ve got something here for you…and your bag of nuts and bolts,” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass door.

  Dear sweet heaven, Paul knew Christian was an android, and he was laughing at her for buying a man. Something like terror gripped her pounding heart. Sudden pain throbbed behind her eyes, her stomach twisted into a sick knot. Drowning in humiliation, she hesitated. Blood pounded in her ears. God, she couldn’t bear his caustic accusations or his condescending yet bitter expression. He actually looked as if he might strike her. I’ll never see the boys again. The thought blasted her like a shotgun fired pointblank. She battled the lightheadedness causing her to stumble.

  “You got some literature on your pretty boy.” Paul tapped the package against the glass.

  Behind her, she heard Christian curse. The next instant he materialized at her side. She glanced at him. He stared at Paul, his expression bleak. He has emotions. She recalled Melissa’s warning. Fury glittered in his eyes. At his sides, his beautiful hands were lethal fists. Was he capable of taking a human life? Or would his programming prohibit him from killing? He looked as deadly as an adder poised to strike.

  March gripped his arm. “Please, go into the bedroom. I don’t want you involved.”

  “He’s probably wondering, probably angry that you replaced him with a robot.”

  Her ex’s dirty laugh and accusing leer sent a shiver over March. He pointed at Christian. “You couldn’t get a man, so you bought one? A tin man.”

  Her beloved looked down at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m staying. You will not face him alone.”

  “I don’t want to open that door, but we must know what’s in that package.” March filled her lungs with a breath of courage.

  The tension was making her physically ill. No one, except Christian, seemed to remember she was still a cancer patient. She met Paul’s mocking stare and decided that Christian was right, that Paul’s ego had been threatened when March divorced him and fell in love with an android. Trembling fingers gripped the lock. The door was heavier than usual, grating along its track. Paul took a quick step forward. Christian jumped in front of her, the two men face to face, both angry, Paul breathing hard, reeking of beer.

  “So, he’s programmed to love you. Programmed to screw you, I’d say. How dare you embarrass your family and pay as much as a mansion in River Oaks for that thing! What did you do, win the lottery? Get out of the way, sexbot.” Paul spat the word like a curse.

  It happened fast.

  Paul made a grab for her arm. “Come here, March.”

  Christian thrust her back, and in a lightning quick move, smashed his fist into her ex’s face. Blood spurted from Paul’s nose. He attacked Christian, and together they staggered into the living room. Paul landed one fine blow to Christian’s cheek, but the android was far stronger and more agile. He seized Paul’s neck, choking him to the floor.

  “Stop! Christian, stop,” March screamed. “You’re angry, embarrassed, and crazy. Paul, get out.”

  A stupid memory flashed through her mind. She heard again her facetious question to Mayfair about Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics.

  Robots aren’t supposed to harm humans, and they’re supposed to obey orders from humans. They can protect themselves, but not if that means harming or disobeying humans.

  Here, now, Christian was breaking every one of those laws…with a will. If anyone needed proof that Mayfair’s androids possessed emotions, he was living, battling proof.

  “Stop, now, Christian. Don’t kill him. I command you.” March stamped her foot, the carpet muffling her dismay.

  He shot her the briefest of glances and buried a fist in Paul’s stomach. His opponent grunted, reaching for him. Was Christian pulling his punches or delivering all his strength? She suspected he held his full force in check.

  God knows what will happen if he frees that power.

  Standing astride his fallen enemy, he rained blows to his head. Blood smeared Paul’s twisted face, leaked from his battered lips. Christian slammed his head against the floor. Her ex sputtered, trying but failing to connect a blow to the android. Lifting him by the neck, Christian flung the other man out the open door. Somehow, Paul remained on his feet. He grabbed the envelope from the floor.

  “I’ll see you dismantled, you son of a bitch.” His face painted red, Paul shoo
k his fist. “I’m sure Mayfair would like to hear about this and the rest of the world, too. Say goodbye to your robot, March.”

  “Leave us alone,” Christian growled, advancing.

  Paul retreated, stumbled down the staircase, and fled toward home.

  March gripped her lover from behind. “Christian, what have you done?”

  He whirled, his eyes blazing. “I’ve shown the bastard I’m not a toy.”

  “You don’t know Paul. He will have revenge.” She paced, wringing her hands, choking on tears.

  Chapter 15

  “He’s going to contact Mayfair.” March whirled, facing him, her stunned expression incredibly sad. “What if they recall you?”

  Those five words sliced through him. Christian looped his arms around her neck. “I know. But don’t you see? I couldn’t allow him to get past me to you. The man was in a jealous rage. He would have hurt you. It wasn’t about my being an android. The whole bloody mess was about…Paul still loves you.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Paul wanted to hurt me. He must have thought over his shortcomings long and hard, realizing—”

  “He’d come in second to a robot.”

  “Why I wanted someone else. He’s very controlling.” Tears brimmed on her lashes. “Oh, Christian, you were protecting me?” She hugged him close to her breast, her heartbeat pounding against his chest. “I won’t let them take you from me. Never. By God, I won’t.”

  He stroked her hair as she sobbed into the crook of his shoulder. She didn’t see the fear in his eyes or the tears on his cheeks. A moment ago, he had considered a daring move—asking Mayfair to allow Daniel to attend the wedding as another beta test. Now, there would be no wedding, and dread squeezed his heart. March was correct. He was certain his parent company would recall a defective unit. His only hope was, he’d been protecting March, and that duty was embedded deep in his coding.

  The ringing phone snapped them apart. They exchanged a terrified look. That jangling instrument had the power to end their fairytale. Christian’s heart clenched. A shiver, as if an electric current sparked beneath his skin, raised gooseflesh on his limbs. March strode to her desk and grabbed the handset, but hesitated, staring at him.

  “It’s an international number.” A tremor shook her voice.

  He nodded. “If we don’t answer, somehow they’ll find us.”

  “Hello.” March held the receiver as if it were poisonous.

  He increased his sensitivity to sound, eavesdropping, and heard…

  “Melissa at Mayfair here. March, we wanted to apologize for a mistake and any inconvenience. Before you purchased Christian, you had requested literature on our gentlemen. Subsequently, in error, the package was sent to you by overnight carrier and should arrive today. Please simply shred the material because it contains a great deal of information about the Special Editions. Needless to say, that information is highly confidential.”

  He closed his eyes. Bloody hell, had Mayfair’s error caused inconvenience! Damn right. He’d almost beaten a man to death. An enraged robot and a creature pretending to be a man. If March’s ex involved the police, Christian stood to be charged with assault and battery with intent to kill. When Paul advised Mayfair of the attack, he’d be recalled and reprogrammed or disassembled. Horror trembled through him. The scientists had given him life. They could take it away.

  March said numbly, “Yes, I’ll shred the literature. No inconvenience. None at all.”

  His poor darling was still in shock. Guilt plucked at his nerves. In attacking Paul, he’d unintentionally hurt her feelings. What choice had he? In a rage of envy and jealousy, Paul had appeared dangerous. Her ex had started the battle when he grabbed March’s arm. At that moment, they were beyond the point of no return. Christian was committed to protect; Paul to emotionally destroy.

  She dropped the handset into the receiver and turned to him. “You heard? No damn inconvenience at all. Is it inconvenient to spoil our perfect lives? We were happy, damn them. I’m scared to death Paul will call the police. Surprised he hasn’t already.”

  Christian stood silent, drowning in a flood of emotions. Fear trembled along every wire and into every circuit. He was hyperaware that he was a bag of nuts and bolts, not the human man he’d hoped to become. They stared into each other’s eyes. The windows to her soul reflected the anxiety eating him alive. Were his eyes soulless, windows merely overlooking a complex network of scientific genius? Forcing himself to walk, not hurry to her side, Christian made the long journey from the kitchen doorway to the living room. Each light footstep jarred his aching heart.

  He folded her into an embrace. His lips smiled, but his heart didn’t. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll win free of this tangle as well. I firmly believe it is Mimosa time.”

  “I believe you’re right. On both counts.” March smiled through her tears.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair, her head tilted for a kiss. He lowered his mouth to hers. Before their lips touched, the phone chimed, ripping her from his arms again. Mutely, they stared at each other for one, two, three rings. Like specters, terror, horror and dread stood between them. She spun, grabbed the receiver, holding it in a death grip. Her wary expression wrenched his pounding heart. He extended his hand, but she shook her head and turned away.

  “March Morgan,” she answered, abrupt and afraid, whispering, “Daniel. Yes, he’s here.”

  A shiver raced over Christian as he accepted the phone. “Daniel? For me?”

  March nodded, placing the receiver on his palm. “He seems in a hurry.”

  “Hi, Daniel.” Christian slipped on his cheerful mask. “Are you coming to the wedding?”

  “Christian, listen. I don’t have much time.” Daniel sounded as if he had his hand cupped over the phone, muffling his voice. “March’s ex-husband called Mayfair claiming you assaulted him and demanding that you be recalled and dismantled. I happened to be in the CEO’s office when the call came in.

  “The man tried to bribe Mayfair, telling Aguillard he’d expose the entire operation to the public if he didn’t receive a million dollars within a week. I was stunned when the CEO agreed to Morgan’s terms. To quote the bastard, I want to see that damn thing in pieces. They’re flying him to London to discuss payment and issuing an immediate notice for your recall. When Aguillard rang off and after he finished cursing, he called Melissa and told her they needed to thoroughly investigate if and why you’d malfunctioned.”

  Their eyes met, and March gripped his arm. “What is he saying? You’re as white as a sheet.”

  His gaze fled to the beige carpet. The floor seemed to shift beneath his feet as he said, “Thanks, Daniel. Call with any other news, please.”

  Stunned numb and speechless, he listened to the silence at the other end of the line. What could he say to March? A sharp pain cramped his stomach. How could he tell her their lives together—indeed his life—might be over? He glanced at the door. The fatal knock could sound any minute.

  “Christian?” The worry in March’s eyes echoed in him.

  Finally, he looked at her, and her lips trembled. The tremor spread over her body to her hands, her eyes wide and filled with fear. The clock ticked the seconds, racing toward the end. He tried to keep his face composed, but she must have interpreted his reaction to the call.

  “No.” She clamped her hand to her mouth.

  He swallowed hard, unable to voice the panic searing through him. His hand lifted in a futile gesture, dropped limp at his side. Nuts and bolts, wires and circuits, the will to live, the urge to confront fate, beat in every one. Reality would not be denied. His actions made him a renegade. There was no life imprisonment, only death row. Rebellious androids suffered a cruel fate—total disassembly.

  “We’re leaving.” She seized both his arms. “If we’re not here, they can’t find us. I’ll never allow them to take you from me.”

  “My love, be reasonable.” He dislodged her grip, bringing her hand to his lips. “You must complete your tre
atment. We can’t run away.”

  “You always think of me first.” She looped her arms around his neck. Her tender expression pierced his soul. “Wherever we hide, there’ll be a cancer facility to finish my treatment.”

  Dear God, if I had a soul, would you listen? Please let us escape. March doesn’t deserve this ordeal. If I must die, let her live.

  “I am programmed to protect you. This time, I was following my coding. I don’t understand why they are…” He bit his lower lip, stifling the complete story.

  Her hands slid to his forearms, giving him a gentle shake. “We don’t know how much time we have. We’re packing only what we need. I won’t listen if you say no.”

  “There’s nowhere we can go that Mayfair won’t find us.” He raked his hands through his hair in what he realized was a desperate gesture.

  March touched her lips to his mouth in a fleeting kiss. “My uncle has a cabin in Montana. It’s so far from anywhere even sunlight can’t find it.”

  He shook his head slowly, amazed at her stubbornness. “No hospital.”

  “He leaves a Jeep at the cabin. I can drive to the closest city. Besides, we’re driving to Montana. They’ll catch us if we fly.” She tapped a finger to his chest, her smile more than a little shaky. “You drive. We’ll take the back roads and won’t stop except for gas. We’ll hit the bank and pay cash for everything on the way.”

  “You really intend to become a fugitive? How will you finance our run-and-hide? March, you needn’t do this. I am resigned—”

  “I’m not.” Her arms dropped from his shoulders, hands fisted. “I will damn well never be resigned. I have some savings. If we run into trouble, I’ll borrow from my uncle. He can afford it.” She shooed him with a wave of her hand. “Start packing. I’m calling dear uncle now.”

  He caught her to him, kissed her tenderly then obeyed his owner’s—his wife’s—command. Urgency vibrated the air. Heart pounding, he strode into the bedroom, jerked the luggage from the closet, and stuffed clothes into the cases. In the living room, March was talking to her uncle, but Christian tuned out the conversation, hurrying to the bathroom for her makeup case, his toiletries, toothbrushes, and other necessities. God, he couldn’t believe they were going to become Bonnie and Clyde. A memory of the woman in the garden praying for March stopped him in his tracks. As he rushed into the bedroom, his lips moved in a silent prayer that they’d survive and one day be free of the death sentences looming over them.