The urge to turn the handle and see if she’d locked the door almost overwhelmed him. He beat it back. Why would he want to know if the door was open? He’d offered the shower and promised a hands-off relationship even if they shared a bedroom for a few weeks.
What he should want to know was just what would happen if she married him and he couldn’t keep his crazy promise about not wanting her in his shower every night. With the door open.
• • •
Esmeralda stood under the pounding spray and dropped her head, letting the water massage her neck and shoulders. She should turn off the faucet and get out. But she wasn’t ready to sit down next to Rafael Benton and discuss marriage, even a mock marriage. Stripping her clothes off and stepping into his shower seemed the most daring thing she’d done recently. He was sitting in his study waiting for her. Had he been thinking about her, here? Naked? A shiver of desire coursed through her. Probably. When she’d turned the water on, she’d had a delicious image of him in the stall, water sliding over his remarkable body … and of his eyes, burning dark fire, focused on her. She smiled as she stepped out and started to towel herself dry. She’d promised herself in Rose Creek not to pursue momentary relationships that were high risk and low emotion. Rafael had taken himself out of the running, and that was smart. She couldn’t see herself sleeping with a man when money was involved. But fantasizing about him? That couldn’t possibly be wrong. And sometimes fantasy was better than the real thing anyway.
He was working at a laptop when she went in, frowning over some numbers. “I’ll be right with you. The Houston office sent me a report they didn’t think looked right.”
She watched, mesmerized, while his fingers flicked over keys and his expression seemed to change constantly in relation to the severity of whatever it was that he was correcting. She knew he had money and hadn’t really thought he’d had to work for it. But clearly he knew what he was doing, and enjoyed it. She smiled to herself, thinking that he attacked this task with the same enthusiasm as he did fishing—probably with better results, too.
He finished and logged off, then stood and stretched and managed to half hide a yawn behind his forearm. “Late night,” he explained, with a wink. “First I got trapped into buying dinner for half the town at Rosita’s. Don’t ever let anyone there talk you into playing that game where they draw straws, because I haven’t won yet, and the loser buys dinner for everyone in the game. Then some redhead singing old country brought the house down around my ears and marches up to demand that I marry her.”
“Really?” Esmeralda stood and closed the distance between them. “What I heard,” she whispered throatily, “is that this smart-mouth little rich boy who thinks he’s all that tried to pick up this naïve karaoke singer …”
“I’ll buy the naïve,” he answered gravely, but laughter tinged his voice anyway, and the dimples were there again. “I mean, this naïve karaoke singer couldn’t even name her horse after the simplest kinky fetish.”
Esme stepped closer and rested a palm on his chest. She could feel the slight tensing, the rhythm of his heart. She’d meant to stop his teasing about Domatrix, but she knew her own fingers quivered slightly in response to his reaction to her touch. And they were going to share living quarters and not touch for how long? She couldn’t give in, though, needed to make him understand that she controlled the relationships she was in.
“You know how you said you don’t always play fair? Well …” Her fingers trailed down slightly, lingering on his taught stomach and stopping there. “I’m not naïve, Rafael. You’d do well to remember that.”
He raised an eyebrow, and lifted a hand to cup her chin. “You’d be surprised at how well I remember things, Esme. Take the first time I saw you, in the mirror—your hair wild, those green eyes.” His voice went still lower. “Your blouse half unbuttoned.”
She closed her eyes. Oh, she remembered. The memory sparked fire low in her belly and made her feel a little shaky. She could reach out, pull him close …
“Oh, excuse me.” The reproach cut through the room and the moment, and Esme let her hand drop, but refused to move away from Rafael. Marie was his secretary. And his watchdog, apparently. Let him deal with her.
“Yes, Marie?” The question was bland and professional, and there was some satisfaction that he didn’t immediately move away from her.
“I’m very sorry to interrupt.”
Yeah, right.
“It’s just that Missy from Angel Wings called to ask if you had room for a few more things. She wanted them to go to the Children’s Home in Nuevo Laredo.”
“Call her back and ask if I can swing by later tonight to pick everything up. I’ll find a way to fit everything in.”
“Right.” Marie nodded curtly and left, and Esmeralda glanced at her watch. “Tonight’s going to happen before you know it, and we haven’t talked.” She took advantage of the broken mood to return to her chair and sit down. “You’ve got one last chance to convince me, Benton,” she finished.
“All right.” He walked over and propped a hip on the corner of his desk. “What do I need to tell you?”
“Why you’re doing it. I still can’t wrap my mind around having to marry someone in this day and age for your parents. I mean, couldn’t you just pretend?”
He rubbed his chin, shook his head, and sighed. “I wish it were that easy. If you meet them, I think you’ll understand. I made the mistake of pretending once, Esme. I had a girlfriend in college. Serious, I thought. Paulette.”
“And?”
“I knew how my mom and dad felt even then. I was sure Paulette and I belonged together, even though none of my friends liked her. They all warned me she was with me for money, not love, but I blew them off.”
“What happened?”
“I took her home to meet Cody and the folks. Cody hated her, but I just thought Cody wasn’t ready to see her big brother—her only brother—with someone else. She was used to being the center of attention, and I thought she was jealous of Paulette. But I didn’t want Mom and Dad to think badly of Paulette or lecture her on how marriages create foundations for unbreakable families. So I told them we’d married secretly in college. Stopped on the way home from UT to buy her a ring. She didn’t mind playing along at all.”
“But she didn’t love you? Maybe—”
“No. Trust me. She didn’t. I spent several months playing husband to a woman who only wanted more. More money, more attention, more things. She kept going to my mom with complaints about how she’d given up her life for me. She kept asking my dad for money for this and that, saying that I’d told her we needed to be responsible and not take advantage of my parents. I was studying business then and not really working for my dad yet, except during the summer. I didn’t have my own income. I didn’t know she was telling them we were having all kinds of financial problems.”
Esme could remember all the years she’d spent trying to please her parents. Apparently he’d done more than she had to keep their affection; he’d toed the same line that she’d been so intent on crossing all those years ago. There was irony in that, and a little sadness. But she didn’t say anything, and when he didn’t go on, she prodded him, needing to hear how the story ended.
“And after that?”
“Eventually my mom had suspicions—not about the marriage, but about Paulette loving me. I caught Paulette in lies and knew something was wrong. But it came to a head when my mom visited her family out of town. She came back earlier than she expected and found Paulette in their bedroom—in their bed—hoping my father would walk in. She actually thought she could take him away from my mother.”
“But at least you hadn’t really married her.”
He laughed derisively. “You won’t believe this, but apparently it would have been smarter to do that! My folks paid a fortune in legal fees, because I’d passed her off everywhere as my wife. Common law, and she had some experience taking money from jerks.” He shrugged. “That’s when my mom and dad a
sked me to show them a pre-nuptial agreement before I married again. They said they needed to protect themselves and Cody, but I know they want to protect me. I guess they think I’d fall for that kind of woman again.”
“Would you?”
“No.”
She hesitated, but he’d asked about Toby. Besides, if they were going to be married, they’d obviously need to know about the exes—at least the important ones. “I know you’re angry, but … do you still love her?”
“No. I don’t even like to think about her, let alone discuss her. But you did ask.”
“I thought I should know.”
“Sure.” He pushed himself up and moved to the chair behind his desk, pulling open a drawer and taking out a folder. “These are the terms my lawyers drew up. Certain settlements are provided after short increments of time—to cover the salary I mentioned. By the end of the summer, if not sooner, Mom and Dad will have made their decision. Hopefully, if that bastard Harper or any other make-believe father comes forward, we’ll have been able to debunk their stories and be sure Justin isn’t taken away.”
“And we all live happily ever?” Esme asked.
He cocked his head. “That’s the plan. Why wouldn’t we?”
She shrugged. “Plans don’t always work, Rafael. What if the woman you marry decides to hang on to you?”
“She won’t. At least, she shouldn’t, and I’ll make that very clear. Whoever I choose will need to be able to take the money and run.”
“It is a lot of money for a few weeks’ work. But you’re worth a lot more. I can see someone not being willing to go. I assume the longer you’re married, the more a woman could get.”
“Yes, but the pre-nuptial limits the money for two years. I thought that would be safer. She wouldn’t have to agree to leave me in order for me to file for divorce.”
“And there’s no sex, no wild passionate love?”
He grinned. “Should make leaving a little easier, shouldn’t it?”
Oh, yeah. “Your method has madness. Good.” She nodded. “So, a hands-off marriage. Is that written in the contract?”
“Of course not! That would be stupid,” he retorted. “My mom and dad aren’t going to look at a pre-nuptial that says, ‘no physical contact of any kind allowed’ and believe it’s a real marriage, are they? I mean, most pre-nuptials set amounts of money for the time spent married. The way mine is written specifies the two hundred thousand and expenses for up to two years as a settlement amount. In other words, if the marriage lasts for a period from one month to two years, the two hundred thousand is what my wife would be entitled to—she couldn’t try to collect more money from me. Amounts after two years would have to be agreed upon by both parties, with stipulations about things like children and length of time the marriage lasts. But since I’ll file for divorce at the end of the summer, there won’t be any long-term implications. And in addition to the pre-nup, I’ve drawn up an employment contract for a summer assistant’s job, where the two hundred thousand is listed as a salary. Of course, my parents would never see that contract.”
“Why are you so sure the marriage will be hands-off?” she pushed. “What if whoever marries you can’t keep her hands off you, or vice versa?”
“Obviously we’re not going to be able to avoid everything. A kiss, holding hands—we’ll have to go through the motions.”
“And what if going through the motions gets out of hand? Because in my experience—and I do have experience, Rafael—a little hand-holding and a few kisses can lead to more. A lot more. In no time at all.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk, apparently considering his answer, then sighed. “Why does everything sound like a dare with you?”
“Surely you’ve thought about it.”
“Yeah.” His lips twitched. “And considering your self-proclaimed experience, I’m sure you’d consider it a sacrifice. I’m not saying it will be a great marriage. But it’s a terrific job for the right woman. Are you interested, Esme?”
She laced her fingers together. She could help her aunt. Maybe with money problems put to rest, Tina would be more approachable. Maybe she could develop the relationship with her aunt that she’d coveted as a teenager. She unlocked her fingers and stood.
“Before I can tell you that, I need to know one last thing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Hit me.”
“The day we met, at Tia’s, you said something to Angel as I left.”
“Okay. What’s your question?”
“Who did you swear to kill, Rafael? My aunt—or me?”
• • •
She’d heard? Damn. He knew when he uttered the words that he shouldn’t have. In fact he’d worried about Angel not letting him in and out of Tía’s office the next time he asked her. And he hadn’t imagined Esmeralda could have heard him.
“Why the hell would I want to kill you?” he asked, stalling.
“Why would you want to kill anyone? You didn’t sound like you were kidding. You meant it.”
He stood and walked around the desk, but stopped several feet away.
“No, I wasn’t kidding. I also wasn’t serious about doing it.”
Esme stood there, so close, clearly suspicious. Her lips were pursed and she stared at him, unblinking.
“You said when we talked the first time that my aunt’s recommendation wouldn’t help me. What did she do to Cody?”
What didn’t she do? Used her, lied to her, gave access to the scum who would make sure she never could beat the demons of music, drugs and fame … He didn’t think Esmeralda had a clue about her aunt’s manipulative, uncaring character. What if he was wrong? Tía had sent her to him. But he couldn’t tell her that. He’d have to talk about Cody, and he didn’t want to. Not right now. Maybe never. Guilt haunted him, cold fury threatened to undo him every time he went there. So he’d just believe that Tía’s only interest was the finder’s fee she’d insisted he pay if he chose her candidate. He wondered what Esme would think knowing that her aunt had bartered for her. If sex were involved—which he would not let happen—he might be crass enough to say the older woman had pimped her niece.
He tried to temper his hostility when he spoke again. None of this was Esme’s fault, unless he was judging yet another woman wrong. There was no reason to hurt her. And she could be so perfect with Justin, able to relate with him without letting him become too attached. A few weeks, limited encounters—Justin would be fine. He’d manage.
“Your aunt knew that Doug Harper—an off and on boyfriend—and others were destroying Cody. The drugs and alcohol—Tía’s. Cody was her own woman, though, legally old enough to be there and choose her friends. I couldn’t find a way to stop her. Sometimes I’d distract her, then your aunt or Harper would call, and off she’d go.” He didn’t want to continue, but Esmeralda’s unflinching stare told him he hadn’t said enough.
“Since I couldn’t talk any sense into her, I made a deal with your aunt. I hired security—guards, a bouncer, I put in a security system—all at my expense. But security doesn’t work when the bad guy runs it. Doug Harper and Cody’s other so-called friends kept getting in with the drugs. The booze.” He shrugged. “That was pretty simple. It was already there, just waiting. Your aunt claimed to love Cody, but she wouldn’t lift a finger to help save her. Just gave and gave—every damn thing my sister shouldn’t have had.”
“And weren’t there authorities—people who could have intervened?” She looked upset, as if hearing the hard truth about her aunt had shocked her. He was relieved to think that she didn’t seem to know the real Tina Cervantes, but also a little worried. About her.
“The sheriff dropped in a couple of times, but didn’t find anything he could act on. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt Cody and my mom and dad even worse than they already had been. That’s one reason I blame myself along with your aunt. Maybe I should have pressed for more police action of some sort, but I let it slide. For them, I told myself.”
“Lots of
people wouldn’t turn in a family member,” Esme said, her expression sympathetic.
He opened his mouth to tell her he couldn’t talk more about Cody, but Esmeralda’s stomach rumbled loudly. She glanced down, startled, then blushed furiously. “Sorry,” she muttered, then lifted her eyes to glare at him. “It’s all your fault. I asked you to take food.”
“I took food. We just had too much fun fishing to take a break.” He picked his phone up and glanced at the time. “Would you like to run into town?”
“We could just eat whatever you packed so it won’t go to waste.”
“But no one will see us,” he protested.
“And that’s a bad thing? Who do we want to run into, anyway? Lillie Mae?”
He grinned. “Yes, actually. If we wind up married, we have to date once or twice, don’t you think?”
“Rafael, have we actually gotten anywhere? We keep talking, but I don’t know how serious you are about whether I’m your first choice. And if I am, what do we still need to do?”
Her persistence might be a problem. He couldn’t seem to escape from cold, hard facts with her. Usually he liked that in a woman, especially if she were going to work for Benton Energy Resources. But when you were planning a temporary marriage that had to work perfectly, persistence was just a pain in the ass.
“You’re my only choice, which puts me in a bad spot if you say no.” He let himself lay it on the line for her, making it clear that she held all the cards. “Look, Esme, this isn’t one of those jobs with specific duties and hours.”
She grinned a little. “Well, seeing as how the primary wifely duty is out, I just wonder what takes its place. I only wash my own dishes, and I only cook if I’m in the mood. For cooking,” she clarified. Then her humor faded again. “Seriously—you have to expect something for that much money.”
“Of course. When my mom and dad come, you’ll have to be the world’s best actress. You’ll have to make them comfortable that you’re my wife because you care about me, not money. You’ll have to show an interest in Justin.” He hesitated, not sure how she’d take his next demand. “You’re not going to be able to sing karaoke at your aunt’s. And you have to promise never to sing ‘Cowboy Casanova’ again.”
His Temporary Wife Page 11
