For Eric's Sake

by Carolyn Thornton

  For Eric's Sake

  By

  Carolyn Thornton

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  "How Did I Get Mixed Up In This Stupid Scheme?"

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Why me?"

  "I thought—I thought—" she sniffed, "you had some compassion."

  "Compassion?" He laughed. "Me?" And then his eyes turned serious again. "Just because I won't be the father of your child."

  "I'm not asking you to." She lifted her chin and that curious dimple appeared. "All I'm asking is for you to be my husband, for a while."

  "Why?"

  "For Eric's sake," she whispered.

  CAROLYN THORNTON combines a southern heritage with her love for far away places she encountered while writing travel articles. She states that "the question what if led me to write the kind of novel I enjoy reading."

  Dear Reader,

  I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have written in with your comments on Silhouette Romances.

  We are always delighted to receive your letters, telling us what you like best about Silhouette, our authors, or indeed, anything else you want to tell us. This is a tremendous help to us as we strive to publish the best contemporary romances possible.

  All the romances from Silhouette Books are for you, so enjoy this book and the many stories to come. I hope you will continue to share your thoughts with us and invite you to write to me at this address:

  Jane Nicholls

  Silhouette Books

  PO Box 177

  Dunton Green

  Sevenoaks

  Kent

  TN13 2YE

  Copyright© 1983 by Carolyn Stromeyer

  Map by Ray Lundgren

  First printing 1984

  ISBN 0 340 35111 X

  Chapter One

  Brandy Logan looked down at the dark, masculine head lying on her breast and wondered how she was going to explain her presence in his bed.

  He stirred, and snuggling closer, threw an arm across her bare midriff. Beneath his hand she felt a funny sensation deep within her body. Although not unpleasant, it was unfamiliar and frightening.

  Oh God, she prayed, trying to ignore the reaction of her body to his caressive touch, help me to be convincing.

  For Eric's sake.

  Slowly he awakened, his thumb moving circularly over her hip, across to her navel, then lower. Breathlessly curious, she waited for his next move, wondering what all the subtleties of lovemaking involved. She had to keep a strict control on herself. His hands alone could cause her to forget her purpose. Reason reminded her he had probably made love to many women. For him, she was just another body.

  She wriggled away from him, dragging the sheets up around her neck.

  He came fully awake and smiled up at her. "Morning, beautiful."

  Brandy smiled a bit uncertainly, wondering how much of last night he remembered. At least he wasn't surprised to find her in his bed, but then, he probably never slept alone. She guessed he wouldn't be smiling at her right now if he recalled the circumstances which led them to this bed.

  Her heart pounded so rapidly she thought he would surely see the action through the thin barrier of the sheet. "Good morning," she whispered and turned away, embarrassed by the look in his green eyes.

  He laughed, and reached up to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. "I didn't think women blushed anymore," he said.

  "Why not?" she asked. Anything to keep him talking, she thought. If she didn't, he might take up where he left off last night.

  "Women's lib," he answered, cocking his head, admiring her deep set brown eyes, full lips and soft dark brown hair framing her sensuous face. "You women are so busy trying to even the numbers, hopping in and out of bed with whoever is conveniently near, that there's very little mystery left, and certainly nothing to blush about."

  Her color deepened as he spoke. She was guilty, but not in the way he thought. "I don't sleep around," she asserted.

  "You spent the night with me." His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  She wanted to slap the grin off his face, but remembered he would soon be angry enough. She lamely answered, "That was different."

  "Hmmm. That's what they all say." His hands found her body again beneath the covers. Brandy wished she were at least wearing the slight protection of a nightgown. She had never slept in the nude, or even with a man before, but she couldn't tell him that. It was all part of her scheme.

  "Please," she whispered, half of her loving the way his hand smoothed around the curves of her body where no man had touched her before.

  "Please what?" he asked huskily, and pulled her up against the length of his hard warm body, taking her lips with his own.

  Brandy wanted to put her arms around his neck and pull him down to her as his lips left hers to travel across her cheek and nibble at her ear. But she had to remember all of his moves were calculated for just that kind of reaction. He knew how to make women respond to him. His lovemaking was deliberate, calculated to satisfy his masculine image. Besides, she'd already gotten him where she wanted him. Now she had to convince him of the importance of her situation and why she had to stay there.

  "Please what?" he prompted, his breath warm in her ear. "Please make love to you?"

  Even his husky voice could set her body on fire with yearning. It would be so easy to give in to him, just for the moment; she had no doubt he would make every second pleasurable. But it would be selfish of her to invite him to continue, especially when there was Eric to consider.

  "Please don't," she whispered, and wondered, when he didn't immediately stop his caressing and kissing, if he had heard her at all. She almost wished he hadn't.

  Her body was hard with arousal, just as she could feel his own on top of her. His light touches made her wriggle with delight. It was as if he were strumming her like a fine musical instrument. She lifted her arms from beneath the covers to pull him even closer to her, wanting more than he was giving, but not understanding what she was asking.

  As the flat of her palms came in contact with his smooth bare back rippling with muscles, he raised his head. His eyes, glazed with passion, stared into her own.

  "What the hell—" he muttered, levering himself away from her and seizing her left hand to stare at the plain wide band he had felt when she touched his back.

  Brandy blushed at the thought of how intimate he had become, and of how little she had done to stop him.

  "Is that what I think it is?" His tone said it was a crime to wear a wedding ring, especially in his presence.

  Brandy forced it up and down over her knuckle. "I am having a little trouble getting used to it. It's too tight."

  He moved away from her as if he'd just discovered she had measles and was in the quarantine stage. "Look," he growled, "I may not think too much of marriage personally, but one thing I don't do is fool around with another man's wife."

  Her heart pounded almost audibly. He did not remember all the details of the previous night. And he did have some set of standards. "It's okay. You don't have to worry about a jealous husband," she assured him.

  "Now don't tell me he's out of town and will never find out. I wouldn't care if he's on the other side of the globe right now. I don't seduce married women. It's a principle with me."

  Brandy wanted to smile. From what she'd heard about him, it seemed incongruous to hear Shaw Janus talk about principles where women were concerned. But the
fact that she had glimpsed compassion in him had initially given her the courage to involve him in her problem—and maybe there was more to the man than his image implied. She was trusting enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. "That's very commendable of you," she said. If he noted the sarcasm in her voice, he didn't comment on it.

  Instead he threw the covers back and pulled on his pants which lay discarded in a heap where he had stepped out of them the night before. "I must say though," he looked around the bedroom for the first time, "you have an exotic taste for decorating."

  "What?" She was mesmerized by the sight of his athletic build, surprisingly unembarrassed by his nakedness: it was the way he moved with a self-assurance as if he were fully clothed. There was no reason for him to be shy. Countless women had no doubt watched him dress and undress, and many had probably even helped him.

  "The mirrors. Erotic," he said.

  "Oh," she said, realizing he didn't remember where they were. "This isn't my apartment."

  He looked back at her huddled form beneath the covers of the bed. "No, I guess it wouldn't be. Not if hubby were expected home. But it sure isn't my place. Where are we?" He rubbed his head, and she wondered if he had a headache after all she had helped him drink the previous night.

  "We're in a hotel," she explained, wondering how best to break the news to him of how and why they were there.

  "Logical," he shook his head, his tousled, nut-brown hair making him look like a boy, "but not my style."

  She didn't think it was. From the rumors she'd heard, he slept around. Women probably even came to him asking for a night in his bed. He should have nothing to hide, no reason to be discreet. "It's the bridal suite."

  He turned and glowered at her in amazement. Then he fell back onto the bed and howled with laughter. "This is hilarious," he finally calmed down enough to say. "No woman's ever gotten me as far as the bridal suite before—and a married woman at that," he chuckled as he bent to pick up his shirt, stuffing the tails into his pants.

  "I bet no woman's ever gotten you to the altar before last night either," she held her breath. It had been the one thing she hadn't been able to find out, whether or not he had ever been married.

  "You're right about that," he grinned rakishly. As he looped his tie around his neck, he casually turned back to her, then suddenly, all amusement drained from his face, he asked cautiously, "What do you mean, 'before last night'?"

  "Don't you remember?" she taunted, wanting to see him squirm for all his arrogance. The tables would be turned soon enough. She knew he was not the type of man to. let a woman dominate him for long.

  "Remember what?" he demanded.

  "You asked me to marry you." She forced herself not to look away from him.

  He was the one to break eye contact, while running a hand through his thick, curling hair. "I remember joking about marriage—vaguely. But look here," he glared at Brandy, "you can't take that seriously. I talk love to all the girls I go out with. And besides," he passed his hand through his hair again, "I can't for the life of me remember your name."

  "How does Brandy Janus sound?" she asked, and concentrated deliberately on the ring on her left hand.

  "Ridiculous," he spat, knotting his tie.

  "I think so, too." She leaned back against the headboard of the bed, tucking the sheets around her. "I guess I'll keep my maiden name for professional reasons. You won't mind, will you, Shaw?"

  "Why should I mind?" He jerked his tie tight. "What is this about your maiden name? What in hell are you babbling about?"

  "You," she breathed, afraid to look directly at him, "and me. We were married last night."

  He turned and stared at her for a long moment. Then he dismissed her with a smile, checking his wristwatch to see if it had stopped ticking. "I have to admit if I were going to take a wife, I'd choose someone as beautiful as you. But beauty wouldn't be the only thing I'd want. And I'm not in the market for a wife at the moment," he stated, trying to close the subject.

  Brandy wondered when he would want a wife. Why was he afraid of marriage? What did he need that he had not been able to find in a woman? "I did get that idea," she answered, "but I was in the market for a husband, and as strange as it may sound, you were the best I could come up with on short notice."

  He laughed. "You have some cheek, I'll hand you that, but no woman has ever gotten the better of me."

  "I'm not trying to win some sort of power play with you," she admitted. "I simply want to be married to you."

  "A lot of women would," he said. "But just because you're a fan doesn't mean I'm going to be so grateful that I'll marry you."

  "I'm not one of your fans." She shook her head. "I'm your wife."

  "Well, it won't work."

  Last night she had played the sly seductress. This morning she was dealing with hard facts. "I'm telling you, you already married me."

  "It can't be legal," he claimed. "Nobody gets married overnight, except in movies. There are such things as blood tests, licenses, crossing state lines for a Justice of the Peace at the very least. I don't remember doing any of that!"

  Brandy smoothed the sheets down around her, wondering if it would hurt to play the role of wronged virgin. A swift glance in his direction said it would. "I don't think you remember much of anything that happened last night. You do drink a lot, don't you?"

  He remembered wanting her, wanting her so badly that he would have done almost anything to get her— anything but marry her. "I was trying to keep up with you," he replied.

  Brandy blushed. She had ordered drink after drink, but had dumped them out every chance she got. "Our marriage license is in my purse if you'd like to look at it," she offered.

  "That I would." He looked around the room and spied her purse on the dresser near the bundle of her own discarded clothes. He crossed the room and picked it up.

  As the reality of the situation washed over him, his face contorted with rage. "This is ridiculous. How did you manage all the details? There's a waiting period for the license."

  "I got that last week."

  His brows shot up. "But I only met you this week."

  She nodded. "You were always too busy with other women last week to notice me."

  He found that hard to believe. She was the kind of woman that stood out in a stadium of people, and he could understand how easily he had been attracted to her. Even now, looking at her suggestive form beneath the blankets of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to slip between the sheets again and—

  But this was ridiculous. He couldn't be married to her! he thought. Glaring at her, he thrust his hands into his pockets. His fingers came in contact with a slip of paper he didn't remember putting there. He pulled it out, read it and waved it in the air. "This is from the blood test! How did you manage that?"

  "I have a friend who works in a clinic. Don't you feel a little tenderness in your arm?" She rubbed her own. "I do."

  His eyes grew wider and his irritation increased. He had thought he was waking up with a dream girl, but it was all turning into a cruel nightmare.

  "And the Justice of the Peace. Where did you find one on such short notice?" he demanded.

  "It wasn't a Justice of the Peace," she sighed. "It was a minister."

  "Geez," he exhaled, running a hand through his hair, and walking over to the window.

  Brandy wondered if, while his back was turned, she should take that moment to slip out of bed and try to dress, but decided against it as every few minutes he sent her little shocked glances.

  She heaved a sigh. She had pulled it off, managed to have him marry her, legally, against all the odds. Reverend Rourke had told her it would never work. He had advised against it, but had finally relented in the face of her determination. He had known how important it was for her to keep Eric, but he had also warned her how difficult it would be to get an annulment if the marriage turned out to be anything but in name only. Right now, she didn't want to speculate on whether or not she could stay married to S
haw Janus—she just hoped it would be long enough to keep Eric with her.

  "Woman," he said, and she could tell he was talking through his teeth even though his back was to her, "I don't know how you managed such a stunt, but I'll find some way to undo it. Get the marriage annulled, or—"

  "You can't do that," Brandy said softly, "not after it's been consummated." She didn't look up to see his reaction. She couldn't. If she did, he might get a hint of the truth: that he had been too drunk the night before to do anything but topple into bed and fall asleep; she was counting on that to have the marriage annulled.

  But she would have to hold out until she was with Eric for good. Now, Shaw Janus had to believe he had completely seduced her. She had to keep him married to her, for awhile at least.

  "Then I'll divorce you if that's what it takes." His eyes flashed as he focused on her. "I don't want and I don't need a wife."

  "How do you know," she asked, her eyes all innocence, "if you've never had one?"

  "I don't need a wife," he repeated.

  "But I need a husband." She lifted her eyes to him, tears glistening.

  "Terrific!" He threw up his hands. "Some guy's gotten you pregnant and I get all the blame and the responsibility. Well, I don't like your games, little lady, and I won't be threatened or blackmailed."

  "It's not like that at all," she whimpered.

  "Don't sit there crying!" he shouted. "I can't stand crying. It won't score any points with me."

  "I'm not doing it on purpose." She glared at him, holding her sobs within, but unable to control the tears slipping down her face. "Believe me, I wouldn't have involved you if there had been any other way."

  "How did I get mixed up in this stupid scheme?" He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Why me?"

  "I thought… I thought…" she whispered, "you had some compassion."

  "Compassion?" he repeated the word and laughed. "Me?" Then his eyes turned serious again. "I don't get women pregnant, and you can call that compassion if you like, but I will not be the father of your child."