The Bride Price

by Ginna Gray

  “Mmm,” Maggie mumbled, and stroked in a few ruffled feathers on the duck.

  “Oh, for— Will you stop that scribbling and pay attention. What’re you doing, anyway?”

  “Mmm,” she replied again absently.

  “Dammit, woman, I asked you a question,” he barked, and Maggie jumped.

  She glanced at his angry face and replayed his last words in her mind. “Oh! Uh...just a little finish work.”

  He crossed the room and looked over her shoulder. “What is— Hey, wait a minute. I recognize this. Those are the characters from those children’s books. What are they called?” He snapped his fingers. “Damn. I know that series. I’ve read those books to my niece, Melissa, a dozen times. What the devil is it?”

  She grinned, ridiculously pleased that he not only knew her work, he seemed to like it.

  “The Adventures of Mergatroid and Arbuckle,” she supplied, adding quick strokes to the drawing.

  “Right! The knock-kneed crane and the cross-eyed duck who travel the world together in search of adventure. They’re my four-year old niece’s favorite books. My sister and brother-in-law think they’re terrific. They live in the Orient so we have to send them the books. They say this Professor Everything who writes them is the greatest author of children’s literature since Dr. Seuss.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Wait a second. Don’t tell me you illustrate them.”

  “I write and illustrate them.”

  “You’re kidding.” He looked astounded. Maggie laughed.

  “I told you I was a free-lance writer.”

  “Yeah, but I thought you meant you dabbled in poetry or something. I didn’t know you were famous.”

  “I’m not, thank heavens. Professor Everything is becoming moderately well-known among the younger set, but I’m not being hailed as a literary lion just yet.”

  “I see. You use a pseudonym to protect your privacy.”

  “Yes,” Maggie said cautiously. She didn’t like the calculating gleam in his eyes. Shrewd businessmen like Asa and Wyatt had a knack for turning the simplest things to their own advantage. She had the uneasy feeling he was storing away that piece of information to use later. “If I were recognized I wouldn’t be able to travel around the country doing my research with anonymity.”

  He glanced around at the loft again. Maggie had the feeling he was assessing her belongings, even the clothes she wore. “Does writing children’s books pay well?”

  “I’m not getting rich, if that’s what you mean, but I manage to earn a comfortable living.”

  “Mmm, I see.”

  He saw what? Suddenly Maggie felt an urgent need to get him out of her apartment.

  “Look, Mr. Sommersby—”

  “Wyatt,” he insisted.

  “All right...Wyatt, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Wyatt stared at her. He wasn’t accustomed to being dismissed, certainly not by a slip of a woman like Maggie. She was the antithesis of the women with whom he had associated in the past—irreverent, sassy, uninhibited and impulsive. She was also fascinating. And adorable. And the sexiest, most innocently alluring female he’d ever met.

  “Have dinner with me tonight, Maggie.”

  “What?” Maggie blinked up at him, for once at a loss for words. His tone, more than the request, sent a little frisson through her. It was low and husky, dark with masculine intensity. “I-I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said have dinner with me.”

  “Why? If you think I’ll change my mind about Eric and Daphne—”

  “This has nothing to do with them.”

  “Then why—” Her eyes widened. “You didn’t come here to talk about Daphne and Eric at all, did you?”

  “Not really,” he confessed, without a flicker of remorse or embarrassment. “I am concerned about my brother, but mainly I wanted to see you again.” He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the drafting table, hemming her in. The look in his eyes made Maggie’s heart stutter, then take off at a gallop. “The truth is, like it or not, I’m attracted to you, Maggie. Very attracted.”

  For an instant she experienced a rush of panic, but Maggie’s sense of humor was never far from the surface. The absurdity of the statement struck her, and she tipped her head back and gave a throaty chuckle.

  Whatever reaction Wyatt expected, it obviously wasn’t that one. His black eyebrows jerked together.

  “You find that funny?”

  “Hilarious,” she sputtered, fighting laughter.

  It was a losing battle, and finally she surrendered to the overwhelming urge. She laughed so hard her eyes streamed and her shoulders shook. After a while she folded her arms on the drawing board, put her head down and let the gales of mirth fill the room.

  Long before her laughter ran its course she became aware of the ominous silence from Wyatt. She knew he was furious, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Finally, weak with laughter, she raised her head and wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She tried to look contrite but her lips still quivered. “I-I’m sorry.”

  “Are you quite through?”

  It hurt her throat, but Maggie swallowed down another bubble of laughter and nodded, biting her lower lip.

  “May I ask just what it is that you find so amusing?”

  “Everything. Oh, Wyatt, you can’t be serious. I’m not your type at all.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he said between clenched teeth.

  “We’re opposites in every way.”

  “I know.”

  “Your life is making deals, acquiring things, nailing everything down in black-and-white. I value freedom, the unexpected. I hate being tied to anyone or anything.”

  “I’m aware of that,” he agreed, but she could see that he wasn’t budging. Frustration and amusement mingled in her voice.

  “Look, Wyatt, be reasonable. You’re an intense, dominant man who has to be in control. You make things happen. I blow where the wind takes me. I let life happen. For me, every day is a new experience, a grand surprise to be relished.”

  “I’m beginning to gather that.”

  “I’d drive you crazy in a week.”

  “Dammit! I know that, too!” he roared. “Don’t you think I’ve told myself that? I spent the better part of the night telling myself all those things and more. But it doesn’t change a thing. I’m still attracted to you.”

  “Well, saints above, get over it, man! It’ll never work.”

  “How do you know if you won’t give it a try?”

  “Don’t be daft. I’ve no need to walk through fire to know I wouldn’t like the experience.” On the surface Maggie appeared calm, even amused, but her brogue grew thicker with every word she spoke, a sure sign of nerves.

  “Interesting that you equate this thing between us with fire.” His gaze zeroed in on her mouth and narrowed. His silvery eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “It is hot.”

  “You are daft.” She chuckled. “There’s nothing between us. Nothing a’tall. Nor is there going to be.”

  “You’re wrong. Like it or not, you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you. What’s more, you know it.”

  “Now you’re dreamin’. You really should get a grip, Your Nibs.”

  A hard smile split Wyatt’s handsome face. “You think this is all one-sided, do you? Why don’t we put it to the test?”

  Before she could evade him he bent his elbows and swooped. She barely had time to suck in a breath before his mouth captured hers.

  Maggie had been kissed before, many times—at least she’d thought she had—but she had never experienced anything like this. The heat was incredible. Her blood seemed to be rushing through her body like molten lava. She wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that the insides of her veins were blistered.

  It wasn’t a forceful kiss, but soft, wooing, breathtakingly tender. The feather-light caress sent a current of electricity zinging thr
ough her. Every cell in her body sprang to attention, every nerve ending sizzled.

  Maggie’s toes curled in her bunny slippers. Her hands knotted into the soft jersey material covering her thighs. Otherwise she didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t even breathe.

  Her head was beginning to spin when he finally ended the kiss. He drew back only a few inches and looked into her eyes, smiling.

  “Well?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. As her head cleared she quickly gathered her composure. Pursing her lips, she pretended to ponder a moment. “‘Twas very nice. You’re a good kisser, I’ll give you that. But ’twas nothing I’d lose my head over.”

  For an instant Wyatt’s face hardened. Then he paused and studied her flushed face, and his smile returned, slow and self-satisfied. “Little liar.”

  “I’m no such th—”

  “Shh.” He put his forefinger over her mouth, silencing her. “We won’t argue the point. You’d lose, anyway.”

  Before Maggie could find her tongue he straightened and headed for the door. With his hand on the doorknob he turned and looked at her, and even across the vast width of the loft Maggie could see the determined glitter in those silvery eyes. “This isn’t over, Maggie. Count on it.”

  When the door clicked shut behind him Maggie expelled a long, pent-up breath and slumped in her chair. “Sweet Mary and Joseph, the man is lethal.” She touched trembling fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. If she were the kind of woman who pined for love and romance she could wind up with a broken heart.

  The thought no sooner flickered through her mind than her eyes popped open and she laughed. Picking up a pen, she turned her attention back to the drawing.

  “‘Tis a good thing you’re made of stronger stuff, Maggie Muldoon,” she announced to the room in general. “Otherwise, my girl, you’d be in big trouble. Big trouble, indeed.”

  Chapter Five

  “Dammit, I thought we had a deal.”

  “We do.” Asa smiled innocently at Wyatt. “As soon as the vows are said I’ll gift Daphne and Eric with one percent of the stock in BargainMart and give him the option to purchase five percent more. In return, you will appoint me to the board of directors of Sommersby Enterprises.”

  “But you failed to mention that Eric wouldn’t be allowed to turn the stock over to me.”

  Asa shrugged. “BargainMart was set up as a family owned company. The articles of incorporation forbid sale or transfer to a nonfamily member. Your brother will be a member of my family by marriage, but I’m afraid that status doesn’t stretch to you.”

  “You own ninety-five percent of the shares. You could vote to change the articles of incorporation.”

  “I could, but I won’t. What I worked my tail off to create is damned well going to stay in my family.”

  Wyatt ground his teeth. It wasn’t often he was bested on a deal, but the old coot had done it. “All right, you win. But I’m warning you, the wedding had better not take place for at least a year. If it does you can forget that board of directors appointment.”

  “Don’t worry, Daphne will do as I say. She’s a biddable girl. Unlike that sister of hers,” Asa grumbled.

  Wyatt’s jaws clenched at the mention of Maggie. He hadn’t seen her in three weeks, not since that morning at her loft. He had flown to Paris the next day to deal with an urgent matter and had returned only four days ago.

  And he had been fighting the urge to see her again ever since.

  While he’d been away she had been on his mind constantly. Thoughts of her had kept him awake at night, and when he had slept he’d dreamed about her. In the middle of meetings his mind had wandered to that pixie face and saucy grin.

  His preoccupation with Maggie angered him. On the flight back he’d decided he wouldn’t see her again after all.

  It was a wise decision, he told himself. There were plenty of other women around. He didn’t need a royal pain in the posterior like Maggie Muldoon complicating his life. He was definitely better off without her.

  He returned his signed copy of their agreement to his briefcase and needlessly shuffled several other papers. “So...how is Maggie?” he asked casually.

  “How the devil would I know? Hell, you’ve seen her since I have. You tell me.”

  Wyatt’s head snapped up. “How did you know about that?”

  “Never mind. I have my ways.” Asa took a cigar from the box on his desk, unwrapped it and leaned back in his chair. Taking his time, he lit up and puffed contentedly. “So...you’re interested in Maggie, are you?”

  “Not really,” he lied. “I was curious about her, is all.”

  “Mmm.” Asa blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. “That’s too bad. I plan to gift the man who marries her with ten percent of the company and an option on ten percent more.”

  Wyatt tried not to let his shock show. “Twenty percent? That’s almost four times what you’re offering Eric. You must be desperate to get Maggie married off. Which raises the question of why.”

  “Let’s just say I worry about her more than Daphne. Oh, I know she’s sassy and self-reliant, but she’s also too free spirited and too damned trusting of her fellow man for her own good. I want to see her married to a strong man who’ll watch over her and take good care of her, see that she doesn’t come to harm.” Asa grimaced. “One, of course, who has the good sense not to let her know he’s doing it.”

  “From what I’ve seen of your granddaughter, I’m sure that would be wise. I must admit, your offer is tempting, but I’m not your man. Not even for twenty percent of BargainMart.”

  With one eye squinted against the smoke, Asa puffed on his cigar and studied Wyatt. “Mmm. You’re probably right. The man who marries Maggie should be gentle and easygoing and have the patience of Job. He’s going to need it.”

  Wyatt gritted his teeth. The thought of Maggie with another man didn’t set well with him for some reason.

  He snapped his briefcase shut and rose. “I think we’re finished here. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another appointment.” He shook Asa’s hand and headed for the door.

  He had barely reached it when Asa said, “Tell me something, Wyatt.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Did you satisfy that curiosity?”

  Wyatt’s jaw clenched but he met the older man’s gaze without flinching. “No.”

  “I thought not,” Asa said, grinning around his cigar.

  * * *

  After pounding on Maggie’s door for ten minutes Wyatt had given up and was on the verge of climbing back into his car when he spotted her coming around the corner.

  Leaning his hips back against the Aston-Martin’s spotless fender, he folded his arms over his chest, crossed his legs at the ankles and waited, drinking in the sight of her like a thirsty man at a well.

  She strolled down the sidewalk without a care, licking an ice cream cone. She applied herself to the task, enjoying the treat as much as any eight-year-old would.

  Keeping ahead of the summer heat was a losing battle. Her pink tongue flicked and swirled, but the vanilla ice cream still dripped down her fingers, and every now and then she had to stop and lick those, as well.

  She wore shorts and a halter top. Wyatt’s gaze trailed over those long legs and bare midriff and settled in the shadowy cleft between her breasts, where her skin glowed with perspiration. His nostrils flared. All the blood in his body seemed to rush to his loins and settle there, hot and heavy.

  Her hair was subdued in a French braid, though errant curls had pulled loose and stuck out in all directions. The strap on one sandal had slipped off her heel and with every step the shoe slapped against the bottom of her foot.

  None of it bothered Maggie. She was too busy enjoying herself. Never had Wyatt met anyone so totally unaffected.

  Maybe that was why she fascinated him, he mused. With Maggie, what you saw and heard was genuine. There wasn’t an ounce of artifice or guile in her. She said what was on her mind and did as sh
e pleased, however the spirit moved her, and laughed if you were surprised or shocked or disapproving.

  She was the opposite of most of the women he knew. Pretentious, shallow women whose very lives revolved around superficial things—wearing the right designer label, attending the right parties, frequenting the right places with the right people, living in the right neighborhoods and driving the right cars. Vain women who spent hours with personal trainers and hairdressers, who’d sooner die than allow anyone to see them without the armor of full makeup or looking anything less than perfect. Sly, artificial women who smiled and said what they thought you wanted to hear.

  Like a breath of clean air, Maggie was a refreshing change from all that. One he intended to enjoy...and to bloody hell with all the reasons he’d given himself for staying away.

  He would not, of course, be taking Asa up on his offer. Marriage was out of the question. Fact was, Asa might well want to string him up from the nearest tree for what he intended, but so be it. He wanted Maggie, and he was damn well going to have her.

  She was about fifty feet away when a wino stumbled out of the alley beside the warehouse and hailed her.

  Wyatt tensed and pushed away from the car, but to his astonishment, Maggie stopped and chatted with the man. It was clear that she knew him. Her face was animated and cheerful, and from her expression you would have thought the filthy old bum was a dear friend. After a moment she handed him her ice cream cone, dug into the pocket of her shorts and gave him something else. What, Wyatt couldn’t be sure but from the old derelict’s reaction, he had a hunch it was money.

  Maggie waved to the man and resumed her leisurely stroll and he staggered down the street in the opposite direction avidly devouring the remainder of her ice cream cone. Wyatt settled back against the car, shaking his head.

  Intent on licking the ice cream from her fingers, she had yet to notice him. Anticipation tightened Wyatt’s body, and as she strolled nearer his mouth curved in an unyielding smile.

  * * *

  Ten feet from the doorway Maggie looked up, and her heart gave a funny little skip. She jerked to a halt in the middle of the cracked sidewalk.