A Proper Wife

by Sandra Marton

  Hell, he thought, and his expression grew even more stern.

  “Well?” he said coldly. “I’m waiting. What’s so important that you lied your way into my office?”

  “I needed to see you—and I didn’t think it would be such a hot idea to drop the reason on the dragon outside.”

  “OK,” Ryan said, leaning back against his desk and folding his arms, “you’re seeing me. Now, what’s this all about?”

  A flush rose in Devon’s cheeks. “Must you always try to humiliate me? You know damned well why I’m here. You just want me to say it because you know it’ll embarrass me.”

  “I hate to ruin this little scene for you, Devon, but I don’t think it’s possible to embarrass you. And I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Devon stared at Ryan’s implacable face. It was wrong, that a man so astonishingly good-looking should also be such a worthless bastard.

  Not that his arrogance and his nastiness really surprised her. She’d spent years among people of his class; she knew what they were like. That awful boarding school might not have taught her how to type or balance a checkbook but it certainly had taught her that the rich thought they owned the world.

  “Well? Are you going to tell me why you’ve come here, or am I going to call Security and have you escorted out?”

  “You are, without any question, the most miserable son of a—”

  “Such sweet talk, darling.” Ryan walked around his desk, sat down in his chair, shoved it back and put his feet up on the desk. He smiled coolly. “You’re going to wind me around your finger if you keep it up.”

  Devon stared at him as the awful possibility that he was telling the truth began dawning. She cleared her throat.

  “You...you really don’t know why I’m here?”

  “No, dammit, I don’t. And you’ve got two minutes to tell me before I toss you out of here on your pretty little behind!”

  Devon licked her lips. Just say it, she told herself, and get it over with.

  “Your grandfather—James Kincaid—wants...he wants us to get married.”

  She jammed her hands into the pockets of her blazer, fisting them tightly for courage, while she waited for his reaction. Would he burst into laughter? Throw her out of his office? Send for the men in the white coats?

  But he had no reaction. Oh, he looked upset. Even mildly piqued. But he certainly didn’t look the way she felt, as if the entire planet had turned upside down.

  “Damn,” he said.

  “Damn?” she said, sinking down onto the edge of a chair. “I tell you that your grandfather has decided to play matchmaker-from-hell and all you can say is ‘damn’?”

  “How did you find out?”

  “How do you think I found out? My mother told me.”

  Ryan nodded. Evidently the old man had discussed his plan with Bettina before Friday night’s get-together. It surprised him that James would have spoken with Bettina before speaking with him—but why should it? The real surprise was that his grandfather would have even considered such an outrageous scheme in the first place.

  Thank God, James had seen Devon as she really was.

  “Well?” Devon sprang to her feet. “Aren’t you going to say something? Are you just going to let your grandfather and my mother go on thinking they can arrange our lives? Not that I’d ever marry you,” she added quickly. “Why, I’d sooner—”

  “Relax. The idea’s as dead as yesterday’s news.”

  “Dead as yesterday’s...” Devon’s eyes widened. “Then, you did know about it?”

  “My grandfather may have mentioned something,” Ryan answered casually. He looked at her, his eyes icy. “I told him it was out of the question.”

  “I should hope so!”

  His teeth showed in a quick, mirthless smile. “I can just imagine how you took the news. Helping your mother get her claws into the Kincaid money is one thing, but—”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “I’d give anything to have seen Bettina’s reaction to the thought of marrying you off to me with my grandfather’s blessing. She must have figured she’d hit the jackpot.”

  Devon flushed. Ryan’s unkind assessment was right on the mark. Her mother had shrieked with excitement.

  “Not at all,” she said, lying through her teeth. “My mother is only interested in my happiness.”

  Ryan grinned. “Come on, baby, who are you kidding? The two of you probably spent the weekend planning your new life.” He shook his head in a mock parody of sorrow. “Too bad my grandfather never got around to telling her the deal was off before you and she celebrated.”

  Devon’s head came up. “What do you mean?”

  “James trotted his idea past me Friday night.” Ryan smiled coolly. “I turned it down before you and Bettina were out of the Kincaid driveway.”

  “My mother didn’t know a thing about this Friday night.” Her face whitened. “Your grandfather called this morning.”

  Ryan sat up straight in his chair. “That’s impossible.”

  “He phoned early. Six or six-thirty, I think. I was reading through the paper, checking the want ads, when the phone rang. It was your grandfather, and he asked to speak with Bettina. And when she got off the phone, she said—she said...” Devon caught her breath. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Ryan muttered. “How could he?”

  “You’ve got to speak to him. Make him understand that it’s out of the question.”

  “Of course it is.” Ryan shot to his feet. “The old man must have lost his mind!”

  “He has to call my mother and tell her it was all a mistake. She...she’s rather excited about this, and-”

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan said grimly. “Last time I checked, this was still a free country. People don’t get married because other people want them to.”

  Devon felt as if a load was being lifted from her shoulders. “Excited” was a pathetic way to describe Bettina’s reaction to James’s call. “Frenzied” was far more accurate.

  “Of course not. I just—I want to be sure your grandfather understands that... that—”

  “Oh, I’ll make sure he understands,” Ryan said tersely. “He’s got this sudden fixation. But he’s not a fool, Devon. I’ll explain very clearly that I wouldn’t marry you under any circumstances.”

  “Just be sure he knows I feel exactly the same way,” she said, her voice brisk.

  Ryan’s green gaze darkened as it skimmed over her, lingering on the swift rise and fall of her breasts before returning to her face.

  “On the other hand,” he said with a little smile, “I wouldn’t pass up the chance to take you to bed.”

  Devon’s hand flew up but he caught it easily in his.

  “If you’re honest,” he murmured, “you’ll admit you’ve thought the same thing.”

  “Never!”

  Ryan’s hand threaded into her hair, fisting in its abundance, forcing her head back so that her beautiful, treacherous face was turned up to his.

  “We’d be like a Fourth of July fireworks and you know it. Starbursts and flames and rockets to the moon.”

  “What an incredible ego you have! I just told you, I’d never—”

  “You would. Hell, you almost did, right there in the foyer of James’s house the other night. All I had to do was lift your skirt and you’d have wrapped those long legs around me, begged me to—”

  This time when she tried to hit him, he was ready. He laughed, forced her face to his, and kissed her.

  “Stop it,” Devon gasped, tearing her mouth from his.

  Ryan put his arms around her. “Is that really what you want?” He looked into her eyes as he brought his lips to hers again.

  But there was nothing demanding in his kiss this time. His mouth moved gently against hers in a series of soft, nibbling little kisses that threatened to drain the marrow from her bones.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, burying his face
in her hair. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Don’t.” Devon said, but her voice was faint and papery, and when Ryan nuzzled the hair away form her neck and slowly began kissing his way down its length, she moaned.

  “Put your arms around me,” he whispered.

  No, she thought, no, don’t do it.

  But her hands were already slipping up his chest, linking behind his neck; her fingers were digging into the silky dark hair that touched his collar.

  “We can’t,” she said in a choked voice. “Ryan, please...”

  Ryan kissed her, his mouth soft and cool on hers. Her lips parted, but only a little; she began to tremble in his arms.

  His body was hardening like steel. She wanted him, he knew it, but she was holding back. It was almost as if she were new to this, as if the sensations his mouth and hands were arousing in her were sensations she had never felt before.

  It was a parody of innocence. He knew that. But knowing it didn’t lessen its impact. His breathing quickened as he drew her closer against him. Her heart was racing; he could feel it leap against his. He swept his hand over her body, down the long, clean line of her spine to her rounded bottom, then up again to cup her breast.

  Her response was swift and electric. She made a soft, keening sound of surrender and thrust herself against him, her pelvis pressed against his, her breast hardening to fill his palm.

  He had to have her. Now, here, on the desk or on the couch or on the damned floor, it didn’t matter which. All he knew was his overwhelming need.

  With a groan, he swept the tweed jacket from her shoulders.

  “Devon,” he said thickly.

  The door flew open.

  “Mr. Kincaid!”

  Devon sprang back at the sound of Sylvia’s voice. Her gaze flew to the secretary’s face. The woman looked shocked. No. Not just shocked. Amused. Delighted.

  Why wouldn’t she be? Devon spun toward the window. It wasn’t every day a secretary walked into her boss’s office and found him in the middle of a seduction—though for all she knew, seductions were the norm around here. With a man like Ryan Kincaid, anything was possible.

  But not with her. All her life she’d been called “cold.” Bettina said she had a cold heart; the girls at school said she was a cold fish. And the few men she’d dated had used a word that was much crueler.

  And yet the touch of a man she knew just well enough to hate had sent her flying out of control. If his secretary hadn’t come in just then...

  “Dammit; Sylvia,” Ryan said gruffly, “this had better be good.”

  “Oh, Mr. Kincaid, I’m terribly sorry, sir.”

  She didn’t sound sorry at all, Ryan thought grimly. She sounded like a woman who was doing what she could to keep from bursting into laughter, but then, he could hardly blame her. He hadn’t been found in such a compromising situation since he was eighteen and he and half a dozen fraternity brothers had been caught making a raid on the women’s dorm at college.

  “I tried the intercom, sir, but you must have shut off the phone. And I knocked. But, uh, you must have been preoccupied with your, ah, your niece. And—”

  She looked at Devon. Ryan did, too. She was staring out the window. Her face, seen in profile, was white and pinched with embarrassment.

  He thought of how flushed that same face had been moments ago. She’d been so filled with passion that he’d almost taken her right here in his office. Hell, he would have taken her, if Sylvia hadn’t...

  Ryan took a deep breath and thrust his hand through his hair.

  “And?”

  “Your grandfather is on the line. He said it was important, so—”

  Ryan waved his hand in dismissal, sat down at his desk, and reached for the telephone.

  “Grandfather?”

  Great, Devon thought, just great. It wasn’t enough she’d had to endure the gathering of the Kincaids Friday evening; was she now expected to sit through another clan meeting?

  Forget it, she thought. She walked to Ryan’s desk, reached out and slapped her palm over the telephone mouthpiece. Ryan looked up, frowning.

  “Just be sure you remember to call the old boy off,” Devon snapped.

  Ryan reached out a proprietary hand and wrapped it around her wrist. She glared back at him.

  “If you try anything, I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear me in New Jersey.”

  His eyes narrowed to green slits. “Hang on a moment, will you?” he said into the phone. Then he muffled it against his chest and glared back at her. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  “Anyplace you’re not.”

  “I’m talking to my grandfather.”

  “How fortunate for you both. Be sure to tell him that I can’t marry you because I’m already engaged to a Martian.”

  “I hope you’ll both be very happy.” His hand tightened on hers. “Just stay tuned.”

  Ryan took a breath, exhaled it, then put the phone to his ear again.

  “Grandfather,” he said, “I’m glad you called. Devon is here.”

  “Oh. How nice.”

  “Actually, she’s upset. She, ah, she just found out that—I know it’s an error, of course—”

  “That’s exactly what I called to tell you, my boy. I made an error. About Devon.”

  Ryan could feel the weight lifting from his shoulders. He let go of Devon, looked at her, and made an okay sign with his thumb and forefinger.

  “I’m happy to hear you admit it, sir.”

  “I was so concerned that Bettina would find a way to get her hands on any money I might settle on the girl that I ignored the obvious. A fund can be established so that only a specified amount per month can be withdrawn.”

  Ryan smiled. “Of course.”

  “It will give the girl a feeling of independence. Anyway, now that I’ve had a better look at her, I’m fairly certain she can fend for herself.”

  Ryan’s lips drew back from his teeth. “She’s not exactly the compliant little thing you thought she was, is she?”

  “As I said the other night, Ryan, a little spirit never hurt. Keeps things interesting.”

  “I’m really glad you’ve thought this through, sir. I know you meant well, but—”

  “But I hadn’t taken all the details into account. Yes, I-know. Well, now I have and I think it’s a much improved solution, don’t you?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Would you be willing to work out the details of the trust with me and my attorney?”

  For the first time in days, Ryan began to breathe easy. Freedom, he thought, freedom.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Believe me, Ryan. This is for the best. I know I’m pressuring you—”

  Ryan smiled. “Grandfather, you have my solemn word. I’m more than happy to do this for you.”

  The old man gave a contented sigh. “In that case, I should like everything settled as soon as possible.”

  “Yes. So would I.” The sooner Devon Franklin was out of his life, the better.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “Well, you know me, sir. Once I say I’ll do something, I don’t like putting it off.”

  “Shall we agree on a day this week, then?”

  Ryan looked at Devon. She was watching him with the wariness most people reserved for rattlesnakes but he didn’t care. She could loathe him as much as she liked, now that she was almost out of his life.

  He opened his appointment book and thumbed through it. How long could it take to meet with James’s lawyer and discuss setting up a trust fund? An hour? Two?

  “I’m free Friday afternoon,” he said after a minute. “How does four o’clock sound?”

  “It sounds perfect.” James gave another deep sigh. “I must say, my boy, you’ve been very understanding.”

  Ryan smiled and tilted back his chair. “Anything to make you happy, sir. You know that.”

  “I know you may not see it clearly now, but I’m certain that some
day you’ll realize the great benefits to this marriage.”

  Ryan’s stomach, and his chair, fell forward with a bang.

  “What?”

  “The trust will keep Devon from feeling as if she’s at your mercy. Oh, you’ll be happy to know, I’ve spoken with Bettina. She’s thrilled with the news.” James chuckled. “Especially since I told her I’m deeding Gordon’s house over to her as a sort of reverse dowry.”

  Ryan’s body jerked as if an electric current had passed through it.

  “Hold it,” he said. “Just hold it right there! I never agreed to—”

  “What’s the matter?” Devon interjected.

  He looked up at her. “Just take it easy—”

  “I am taking it easy, my boy. In fact, I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks.”

  “Not you, Grandfather. I was talking to...” He jammed his fingers through his hair so that the dark strands curled down over his forehead. “Listen here, Grandfather, I never meant—”

  “Friday’s an excellent day for the wedding. In fact,” James said slyly, “I’d already thought of that day myself. And I’ve given some thought to the plans.”

  “Dammit, sir—”

  “I know, I know. Brimley said I was behaving like a tyrant, but honestly, Ryan, can you think of a better place for the ceremony than the library right here in this house? Brimley can make herself useful, handling details. Champagne, petits fours, flowers—”

  Ryan shot to his feet. “Wait a minute! I wasn’t talking about—”

  “—any fuss. I understand, but a glass or two of Mumm’s isn’t fussing, is it? I’ve already spoken with Judge Wiggins. You remember him, don’t you? He says he’ll be delighted to perform the ceremony.”

  “Great Caesar’s ghost,” Ryan whispered, “you’ve thought of everything!”

  “I was going to call an announcement in to the Times but that secretary of yours—what is her name?—was kind enough to offer to do it for me.”

  “Sylvia?” Ryan said numbly. “Sylvia knows?”

  “She didn’t want to interrupt you, my boy. I had to tell her why this call was so urgent, didn’t I?”

  Ryan grasped at the telephone cord like a drowning man grabbing at a lifeline.

  “Grandfather,” he said, “I hate to spoil this for you, but—”