Strangers poured out of the revolving doors of the hotel, but he only registered them as not Mira. He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted her a single word.
Please.
“Mr. Kerr?”
Cal blinked, turning toward the female voice. He had no idea how long Tonya, the wedding concierge, had been standing there. He’d only met the woman this morning when he checked in, but he’d spent the better part of his week on the phone with her because she kept wanting input on wedding details he couldn’t care less about.
“Are all the plans to your liking?” She stared up at him like a deer in headlights.
He nodded and forced a smile. He hated when people were afraid of him. Fear had been his father’s motivator of choice; Cal preferred to stick with recognition and cash.
“Everything met with your satisfaction so far? The room, the bouquets?” She clasped her hands in front of her, her fingers toying with the slim belt of her gray dress.
“It’s fine.” And a waste of time unless Mira came out of those doors in the next two minutes.
“Did Miss Rose have any requests? There’s not a lot we can change at this point, but I’m sure I can tweak things to make her happy.”
Good luck with that one. His stomach soured as he wondered if he was crass enough to hire someone if Mira refused him. His mouth had gone dry as the Nevada air.
“Can I ask you something?” He looked at Tonya, the sheet of dark hair, the prim outfit, the patient smile. Damn, even she reminded him of Mira. “Are you married?”
She blushed and shook her head, a grin playing on her lips. He smiled back, knowing he’d never marry anyone but Mira. He couldn’t risk losing her, and he knew she was serious about ending things if he did. It felt ridiculous, like a scene from one of the romantic comedies Mira usually had playing in her hotel room whenever he’d knock on her door after some event they’d both attended.
Asking Mira for a favor was one thing; dragging a stranger into his family drama for only long enough to write them a check was . . . nauseating. He’d lose respect for himself, not to mention the way Mira and the rest of his friends would look at him knowing what he’d done.
“Are we still on?” Mira’s voice lifted him like a marionette’s strings, bringing him to attention. Relief soothed the end of his frayed nerves and he pulled in a deep breath through his nose, her sweet rose scent finding him through the heat. He ignored the serious expression she wore, only caring that she’d taken the first step. He could talk her into anything from here.
“Ready, willing, and waiting.” He placed one arm around her shoulders and pulled her up next to him. He didn’t intend to let her out of arm’s reach until the marriage was legal.
“Miss Rose.” The smaller woman thrust out her hand, reminding Cal that she existed at all. “I’m Tonya. I helped Mr. Kerr arrange everything for the wedding.”
Miranda shook her hand and smiled. “I figured he had some help. Details are not Callum’s strong suit.”
Tonya lifted her shoulders and beamed. “You really were surprised then?”
“Shocked. Thank you for humoring him on this. I can’t imagine he’s been easy to work with.” She shifted her attaché to her other hand and not-so-gently nudged him in the ribs. He didn’t budge.
“Oh, he’s been great. Very direct about what he wants.”
“Isn’t he just.” The smile she gave him could have frozen boiling water.
He motioned for the chauffeur, who opened the door and ushered them in side. Tonya gave a little wave as the door shut, sealing them in for the ride to the courthouse. The driver must have read the mood, because as soon as he got in the limo he closed the partition.
“We need to get crystal on a couple points.” Miranda moved to the seat that ran the length of the limousine, leaving Cal on the bench along the back. She needed to see his expression, but not be distracted by touching him. What they were about to do was serious, and he was treating it like a fraternity prank.
“Thank you, doll. I know you’d never let me down, but I’ll admit you had me wondering if you were going to show.” He reached forward, plucking an open bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and two flutes from the notched shelf.
“I’ve changed my mind three times today, so go ahead and worry.” She reached into her attaché and removed her tablet, loading up the agreement she’d spent the last hour working on.
“Mira, listen, I know you’re upset about how I sprang this on you.”
She raised her hand to stop him. “I listened to you earlier. Now it’s your turn.”
He offered her a glass of champagne, but she shook her head, leaving him holding both glasses.
“I’m willing to try your version of marriage.”
His warm brown eyes lit up as he grinned. “This is going to be great, I promise.”
She held up her hand again. “I’m not done talking and the courthouse is only a few minutes away. I’m not getting a marriage license until you’ve signed this.” She held out the tablet.
His expression darkened as he cast his gaze from her to the device and back. He set the champagne glasses back in their notches on the shelf. “What is it?”
“An abbreviated prenuptial agreement. We don’t have the time for anything detailed.” She offered it to him again.
“Tell me what you’ve drawn up. Like you said, we only have a few minutes.”
She sighed, wishing he would just read the darned thing. Having to spell it out for him was just so embarrassing. “It states that all assets pertaining to a trust remain with the trust in the event of a divorce. Personal assets prior to the marriage are not divisible if the marriage is dissolved.”
“That’s generous of you. But you don’t have to bother. The only reason we’d need to go separate directions is if you decide you need to have kids.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. “Because you don’t want children.” Not that she could give him any. She’d mentioned her endometriosis to him in the context of Tina’s fertility concerns. But maybe he saw her issues as another qualifying trait in his modern marriage.
“Do you have room in your life for a child? I don’t. Like you pointed out the other day, I barely know my godchildren.”
She opened her mouth to remind him it didn’t matter because her body had started to betray her in her teens. She’d suffered through two procedures, but now the only option to alleviate her symptoms were the birth control pills that kept her from cycling or a hysterectomy. She’d come to terms with it, but not enough to do something so permanent. Besides, if he didn’t want children, did she need to remind him? Especially when they had so little time and so much to discuss.
Cal handed her a flute of champagne. “Relax. We won’t be getting divorced. This is going to work out beautifully.”
She took a sip, the bubbles tickling her mouth. If only they were as open with their feelings as they could be about business. “There is a fidelity clause that in the event of an affair you relinquish all rights to the Callum department stores and Kentigern Castle.”
He gave a low whistle. “I won’t cheat on you. You don’t have to threaten me.”
“I’m simply ensuring that if you hurt me, you’ll feel it too.”
“And knowing that I’d put the only two things I own that matter to me on the line will make this easier for you?”
She nodded, releasing the breath she hadn’t known she held.
“What do I get?”
She blinked unsure of his meaning.
“Surely you don’t expect me to sign on for something so lopsided.”
“I’m not the one who’s been with scores of women.”
“That would certainly change our dynamic.” His lips twitched in a grin. “You want me to sign it, you have to be in for as much as me.”
“We don’t play on the same turf, Cal. You know I don’t have a castle or a department chain in my portfolio.”
“And you know I’m not sleeping with anyone else, ye
t you feel the need to draw up contracts. I’m just saying that you need to be fair or forget it.” He leaned back in the seat, his heated gaze pinning her in place.
“What do you want? My aunt’s house or her scholarship fund?”
“You volunteered my oldest memory and the thing I’m most proud of. Do that.”
She thought for a moment, her pulse ticking up. “You want my dad’s VW bus and my condo?”
He smiled. “You still keep that thing running? You know your parents would have upgraded by now, right?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t sleep around, so you won’t have to deal with it. And you’re going to keep it in your pants so I’m not stuck trying to unload a castle and sell stores to your rivals. Deal?”
5
Seven minutes. Mere seconds until she had to make the biggest decision of her life. Alone.
Miranda stared at her reflection in the cheval mirror in the bridal room of the hotel’s wedding chapel until she schooled her expression from the verge of tears to relative calm. Her parents should have been here, but of course they’d been gone too long. What would they think of Cal? Of his modern take on a timeless custom?
The anxiety weighing on her heart lightened to merely crushing as she imagined Cal charming her father with nothing more than their shared Scottish heritage and a smile. Cal had introduced her to the genealogy expert who’d traced her father’s family for her, filling in gaps in a history that would have stayed silent.
She had no idea how her mother might react. An awkward, coltish adolescence had kept boy craziness at bay, so she’d never confided in her mother about boys. Would she warn of Cal’s charisma or be taken in by it?
Even though her parents had been gone for more than half her life, she could still get yanked back to the shock of it all. Waking up alone in the house, the police officers at the door that afternoon, the shaky call to Aunt Cecile when she had to speak about the accident for the first time. Moving from New York to Seattle a few days later had felt as surreal as the accident itself.
Her parents had been so in love, so completely enthralled with one another, that her father had left Scotland and her mother had shrugged off her disapproving family so they could be together. It didn’t get more bohemian than a yoga instructor and a musician raising a child in a Brooklyn loft, which had made her conservative grandparents so angry they never spoke to their daughter again. Because of that, or maybe in spite of it, she knew her parents would have accepted Cal as he stood, simply because she loved him.
She spread her fingers over the table and took a shuddering breath. Did she stand in front of the friends who’d become like family and sell them on a marriage only one heart was in, or did she disappoint the man she’d been in love with since she’d spied him at the welcoming reception for law school?
He’d been so vibrant and handsome, and his confident aura drew everyone in. From across the room she’d decided he would be her crush of a year, a silly game she’d been playing since junior high. She’d thought him as unattainable as the boy-band cutie, soap-opera hunk, or football quarterback. A safe place to pin her fantasies since they had no hope of coming true and messing with her ten-year plan.
Only Callum Kerr had bought a former fraternity house and offered rooms to his fellow law students. She hadn’t realized how much time she’d be spending with her classmates, and soon they were a cohesive unit. Her crush started as simple physical attraction, but the more time she’d spent with Cal, the more she’d been drawn to all the things he was that she’d never been able to pull off—stylish, adored, compelling.
He’d noticed her when no one else thought to ask her opinion. Not in the way she’d dreamed, he only saw her as a friend, but he saw her—and as head down as she was in the books, that meant something. Meant enough that when some of their classmates were joking about how as a native New Yorker he’d never bothered to learn how to drive, she’d offered to teach him. And then asked him to teach her a few things in return.
Her cheeks burned at the awkward memory, her heart squeezing at how gently he’d handled her proposition. He could have laughed or mocked or had a myriad of other soul-scathing responses. Instead, he’d let her take the lead and spent the year showing her what most girls had picked up in high school.
She swallowed down the emotions bringing tears to her eyes and looked up, patting her cheeks gently to ensure the makeup that had been so painstakingly applied hadn’t been ruined.
A soft knock on the door brought her attention back to reality, the wedding coordinator peeking into the small room. She slipped through the door, carrying a giant white box in her arms.
“What is he up to now?” Miranda hoped Tonya was being well paid for Cal’s shenanigans.
She set the box on the bed and lifted the lid. “Have a look for yourself. He had it made to be worn with your dress.”
Miranda stepped to the box and peeled back layers of tissue paper. Scottish crest pins for clan Rose and clan Kerr sat atop a silken tartan in the pale red, soft blue, and green pattern of clan Rose. A sigh escaped her as she pressed her hand to her racing heart. For a man who didn’t believe in love, he was damned romantic.
She took the crest pins in each hand and recalled the first time he’d taken her to the Highland Games. Between his turn at the Scottish hammer throw and the kilted mile, he’d showed her the clan gathering where she’d spent hours soaking up the history of her father’s people. While she was enthralled by pictures of the Scottish countryside, Cal had snuck away. He returned with her first Rose crest, on a key chain, and a scarf in the Rose tartan.
Cal had given her so much that day, far beyond the gifts. Somehow listening to stories reminded her of more than her father’s accent, of the way she’d felt when he’d tell her bedtime stories of warriors and castles, villages and air so crisp you could smell the magic. The pins were the perfect way to pay homage to her father, and his.
She held the pins out to Tonya. “Do you think we could somehow pin these to the ribbon wrapping the bouquet?”
“I can make that happen.” Tonya took the pins and the bouquet of colored roses and went to work.
Miranda turned her attention back to the silken tartan inside the box. She lifted the fabric and shook it out, noticing it had a layer of white silk that matched its length. “Do you have any idea what this is supposed to be? It’s not a sash.”
“Oh.” She held up the newly adorned bouquet. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain. Is this what you had in mind for the bouquet?”
“Even better.”
“Good, good.” Tonya reset the bouquet in the vase on the vanity. “Mr. Kerr had a train made to complement your dress and make it more formal.” She took the fabric from the other end, showing the white beaded edging and a sparkling emerald brooch that fastened it together. “It can also be worn as a cape, so you’ll be able to use it again.”
Maybe she should have looked at the wedding ring, because if it were anywhere near as audacious as the brooch, she’d never be comfortable wearing it. Tonya swung the fabric around her, securing it with the brooch on her left hip.
“Do you love it?” Tonya pressed her hands together, her pale eyes shining with hope. No doubt that to her, Cal was the most romantic, thoughtful groom in the world.
Mira glanced at the mirror, and did a double take. She smoothed her hands over the white silk that perfectly matched her dress. With every move, the colorful tartan peeked out from underneath. Her simple white dress had gone from modern to matrimonial in the click of a clasp. “I look positively bridal.”
“It is the day for it. Any last-minute touches I can help with? Old, new, borrowed, blue, and all that?”
“The dress is old, the train is new, the shoes are borrowed and blue.” She glanced down at Molly’s bright blue heels. Her poor friend’s feet couldn’t squeeze into them, so Miranda had traded her for a pair of ballet flats.
Tonya checked her watch. “Two minutes to show time. Any questions about the plan?”
“Wedding plan B is fully operational.”
Miranda let herself smile and collected the bouquet of brightly colored roses. She’d do this for Cal, to give him what he needed the way he’d done for her all those years ago. She’d help him the way he’d helped her. She just had to be sure never to let him know she’d loved him then, or now.
Callum Kerr stepped into the wedding chapel, a wave of guilt nearly knocking him to his knees. And in this kilt, that would not be a good look. His friends all turned to spy him as he entered, gazes narrowed. They had every right to be suspicious. He’d flown them here with a secret agenda, and had sidestepped their questions ever since.
He moved deeper into the room, to the semicircle of chairs they’d all been seated in.
“Have you seen Miranda?” Molly spoke first.
“Or your bride for that matter?” Bert asked with a smirk. “You’re up to something Kerr, and my money says Miranda found you out.”
The wedding suite doorbell rang, sending the planner scuttling away. No telling what she thought needed to be delivered now. The flowers looked fine, and champagne was chilling in ice buckets by a tower of waffles. Since neither of them were fans of cake, he’d opted for their favorite room-service order.
Callum coughed to tear his mind away from how they had always raced to finish having sex before room service arrived and back to the actual wedding. He had to get this crew on board. One argument from them and Mira might go back on her word.
“This is the part where I thank you all for coming to be with us.”
“Except we’re not all here, Cal.” Molly rested a hand on her full belly. “And she’s not answering her phone. I don’t feel right about this.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. She’s—”
Just Married (More than Friends) Page 4
