“I want you.”
The tiniest of shivers trembled through Madison. “I know.”
“Wrong time, wrong place?” he guessed.
“I don’t do brief affairs.”
“What if it turns into more than that?” He couldn’t help himself. He cupped her head and drew her close enough for another kiss. “Are you willing to explore the possibility?”
Day Leclaire and her family live in the midst of a maritime forest on a small island off the coast of North Carolina. Despite the yearly storms that batter them and the frequent power outages, they find the beautiful climate, superb fishing and unbeatable seascape more than adequate compensation. One of their first acquisitions upon moving to Hatteras Island was a cat named Fuzzy. He has recently discovered that laps are wonderful places to curl up and nap—and that Day’s son really was kidding when he named the hamster Cat Food.
Look out for an exciting, brand-new trilogy by
award-winning author Day Leclaire:
The Provocative Proposal (#3663)
The Whirlwind Wedding (#3675)
The Baby Bombshell (#3686)
THE MARRIAGE
PROJECT
Day Leclaire
To those who make the tough choices.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
PROLOGUE
HARRY JONES sat in the middle of an office the size of a small house while controlled chaos exploded around him. Close to a dozen VPs and department heads crowded in front of his massive desk, each with a problem of absolute urgency and each needing an immediate answer to that problem. Flicking his pen across a document, Harry sent it spinning down the expanse of mahogany, reducing the number of people clamoring for his attention by one.
At his elbow his private line let out a demanding chirp and he tucked the receiver to his ear with an uplifted shoulder. “Talk to me,” he ordered.
“Busy?” his father asked cheerfully.
Harry gave the door to his office a pointed stare and jerked his head in that direction. That’s all it took. That’s all it ever took. Every last one instantly obeyed his silent command, filing from his office with impressive haste.
“What’s up, Dad?” he asked.
“I have something here that might interest you.”
Harry leaned back in his chair. “I have to give you credit. You do come across the most fascinating bits and pieces of information.”
“It’s my job, remember?”
“Funny. I thought your job was promoting The Principles of Love. Speaking of which, how’s the book tour coming along? Where are you? Seattle?”
“Portland. Seattle is tomorrow. And the tour is fantastic. Never had so much fun in my life. You were right about all this handshaking and public speaking being up my alley. I guess I’m just a frustrated old salesman, or something.” There was a notable pause and then Bartholomew said, “But that’s not why I called.”
“I figured as much. What’s going on?”
“I received an intriguing document that I thought you’d find of interest.”
“Can you fax a copy?”
“Only if I can send it over your private line. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing the thing.”
“Why?”
“It involves the Sunflowers.”
“Dammit, Dad. You know I’d rather not get involved in your personal relationships—”
“This isn’t about Sunny. It’s about her granddaughter, Madison. I think once you read it, you’ll decide to join me in Seattle.”
“It’s that urgent?”
“Yes, it’s that urgent. Come on, son. Use some of that power I’ve seen you wield. Delegate the smaller jobs and get on this.”
“I don’t have any small jobs,” Harry replied dryly.
“Right. How silly of me to forget. My son is Harry Jones, economic genius and corporate troubleshooter.” There was no mistaking his teasing tone. “I bow down in tribute.”
“Economic genius, corporate troubleshooter and terror of the financial world. And you cower at my feet, not bow down.”
Bartholomew chuckled. “I stand corrected. Listen, take a look at what I send and decide for yourself. But I’m guessing you’ll be on the next plane to Seattle.”
Five minutes later the fax came through. Harry sat at his desk and read over the information and discovered his father was quite correct. He would be on the next plane to Seattle.
CHAPTER ONE
The Ten Principles of Love
by Bartholomew Jones
Principle 1: Sometimes it only takes one look…
MADISON ADAMS snapped open the ringing cellular phone with practiced ease. “Talk to me.”
“Madison?”
“Hi, Aunt Dell. Lost again?”
“I hate to bother you, dear.”
“It’s never a bother,” Madison reassured with absolute sincerity. “That’s why I get paid the big money.”
“It has nothing to do with the money and we both know it. You love looking after all of us, don’t you, dear?”
Madison grinned. “I have to admit, it’s more than a job. It’s a calling. Now describe your location to me. I don’t suppose you see any street signs nearby?”
“You’ll be so proud of me. I’m standing at a street corner. Union and…and Fifth.”
“This will be an easy one, Aunt Dell. Lift up your hand and flag a cab.”
“Dearest?”
Madison sighed. “No money?”
“I was so careful to save enough to get home. But the most delectable latte called my name.”
“I understand. Hang on, Aunt Dell. I have another call coming in.” She hit the flash button. “Talk to me. Yes, Rosy, what is it?”
“Harley has an emergency.”
“Harley always has an emergency. What is it today?”
“Something to do with a Mercedes and a limited time offer.”
“Tell him that’s not an emergency. Blood and maiming are emergencies. Cars come under the heading of our weekly meetings and they come in very low on the agenda. Make that clear, won’t you?” she instructed her assistant. “Low priority.”
“He won’t show at the meeting if I tell him that.”
“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about any emergencies involving Mercedes, will we? Listen, I’ve just left Sunny’s apartment and I’m on my way to the office, but I have a quick job for you to take care of before I get there. Call the local cab dispatcher for Aunt Dell.”
“Do they need to be on the lookout for her or just pick her up?”
“Pick up at Union and Fifth. Tell them to put the fare on my tab along with a generous tip.”
“Got it.”
Madison switched back to her aunt. “Aunt Dell? Go ahead and flag down a cab.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“You’re—”
To Madison’s annoyance the phone went dead. It was the third occasion this month it had stopped working for no apparent reason. The family had been in an uproar on the last occasion when they hadn’t been able to reach her. Fortunately, this time she was only minutes from her office and another phone. Stabbing at the call button for the elevator, she turned her attention to the book her grandmother, Sunny, had given her over lunch. She had five minutes to spare between Sunny’s apartment and the office. That should provide ample opportunity to form an opinion. Not that she needed more than two of those five minutes.
“This is the worst piece of tri
pe I’ve ever read,” Madison muttered beneath her breath. “How anyone can buy into this nonsense is beyond me.”
A small ping announced the arrival of the elevator and without missing a beat, she turned another page and stepped into the car. “I can’t begin to imagine what Sunny could be thinking. Love can strike at the most inconvenient times. When it does, there’s nothing you can do but surrender to its overpowering force,” she read aloud. “Total twaddle. Bilge, drivel, malarkey, not to mention poppycock.”
The car rose and Madison glanced up with a frown. The numbers above the door blinked rapidly as they ascended. This was not the direction she’d intended to go. Someone had made a mistake and she wasn’t the least bit happy about it. Just as she opened her mouth to voice a complaint, the elevator shuddered to a halt and the lights winked off.
She groaned. “This is not my day.”
“Nor mine,” agreed a rich, masculine voice from the back of the car.
The sound startled her. She’d been so preoccupied with her book, she hadn’t even realized there was anyone else on the elevator with her. “You’d think in a brand new office building they’d have elevators that work properly,” she ventured.
“Conversely, the very fact that it’s brand new may be why the mechanics are off. They haven’t had an opportunity to fix all the bugs.”
Madison’s frown returned. “The elevator wasn’t even going the right way.”
He took a moment to digest that. “Elevators only go the wrong way when you don’t pay attention to which direction the arrow is pointing.”
It was a reasonable if unpalatable observation. She hadn’t been paying attention. Nor was it the first time she’d taken unnecessary detours on an elevator—or in life, for that matter. She’d have to make a note to pay closer attention. No doubt it would join all the other notes, each with a similar message. It wasn’t really that she didn’t pay attention. The truth was she had phenomenal powers of concentration. Unfortunately, she tended to ignore anything that didn’t directly relate to the task at hand. Whatever happened to be her current concern received her full focus.
Emergency lights came on with a wasplike buzz, coating everything in a jaundiced shade of amber. Madison turned to address her companion-in-disaster just as a loud pop echoed in the small confines. An ominous sizzle followed and the emergency lights faded.
“I hope you’re not the screaming type,” the man said.
“Certainly not,” she retorted, firmly ignoring a warning prickle of nervousness. “I’m the most practical person in my entire family.”
“Depending on the family, that might not be saying a whole hell of a lot.”
Maybe if she listened very carefully to every word he spoke the nervousness would vanish. Now what had he said? Something about her family and a characteristic that would be laughable if she weren’t so on edge. “You’re right about that. It’s not saying a lot. To be honest, my family consists of the most impractical individuals ever assembled in one group.”
“Unfortunate.” He paused a beat. “Please tell me you’re not like them.”
Focus! “Not in the least.” It would take more than a dark, suffocating elevator to disconcert her. A lengthy stay might do the trick, but she could handle…oh, say…one or two minutes without losing it. Five, if pushed.
“Excellent. Now that we’ve established that you don’t intend to scream or faint—”
“I never said a word about fainting,” she corrected. “I just said I wasn’t the type to scream.”
A heavy sigh issued from deep within the car. “Are you prone to fainting?”
“No.”
“Excellent. Now that we’ve established that you won’t scream or faint, perhaps we can find a phone to call for help.”
“That might be difficult since I can’t see a blasted thing.” How many minutes had passed? Two? Three? Her hands closed into fists. That gave her a whole one hundred and twenty seconds—if she were lucky one hundred and eighty—to get out of her predicament. Plenty of time to escape their prison before something unpleasant happened. “I don’t suppose you have a cell phone on you? Mine stopped working in the middle of my last call.”
She heard him shift in the darkness, a faint patting sound suggesting he was checking his pockets. “I must have left it in my hotel room. I’m not sure it would even work in here.”
“The way our luck is running, probably not. How about a flashlight? Two-way radio?” Desperation was definitely kicking in. “Rappeling equipment?”
“Sorry. Left all that in my Superman cape.”
The comment provided a much needed distraction. He sounded like her uncle, Daniel, who suffered from a severe Superman complex. Though he didn’t carry it so far as wearing tights and a cape, he did get into trouble rescuing “damsels in distress,” most of whom didn’t want to be rescued. Fortunately, the lawyer she had on retainer gave a discount for volume usage. With her family, that proved a distinct advantage.
Madison swallowed hard and forced herself to follow the conversational gambit. “At least you have a Superman cape. I’ve found it’s rare in this day and age.”
“Let’s just say I didn’t have any choice in the matter. There’s got to be a phone here, somewhere.” She could hear him make his way across the car toward the control panel. “If I can… Got it.”
She gave him a full two seconds to take care of the problem. Ample time, in her opinion. “Well? What are they saying?”
“Nothing, yet.”
Silence reigned for an additional eight impossibly long seconds. If her knees hadn’t locked up on her, she’d have crossed the car and snatched the phone from him and taken care of the situation herself. “When are they going to get us out of here?”
If her impatience annoyed him, he didn’t let on. “No time soon. The phone’s dead.”
She didn’t bother to disguise her alarm. “How can that be?”
“At a guess I’d say whatever’s wrong with the elevator, the lights, and the emergency backup system, has also affected the phone.”
“So we’re trapped here?” The full impact of that question and its probable response settled over her like the smothering weight of a wool blanket. A wet wool blanket. She clutched the railing circling the wall of the elevator and held on for dear life. “There has to be a way out of this.”
He turned in her direction, the sound of his voice pitched to soothe. “I thought you said you aren’t the type to panic.”
“I’m not panicking! How can you possibly think I’m panicking when I’m not? Does this sound like panic to you?”
“My mistake. I think it was the hint of hysteria in your voice that fooled me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never had hysterics in my life.” She fought to draw breath. For some reason she found it difficult. “I think the air has stopped, too. It’s getting warm in here. Don’t you think it’s warm in here?”
“What’s your name?”
What did that have to do with how much air they had left? “Madison.”
“I’m Harry.”
Harry. A nice, safe, average Joe sort of name. She liked that. Right now she needed someone with those qualities. “I don’t suppose your last name’s Houdini?” As a joke, it was weak. Perhaps it was oxygen deprivation. The lack of air had stolen what little wit she still possessed.
“Actually the name’s—”
“I need to get out of here,” she interrupted. Didn’t the man understand that? She’d been fortunate to get nice, safe and average, but unfortunate enough to get someone short on brain power. “Now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Tell you what, Madison. Why don’t we both sit down and relax? We can talk while we wait to be rescued.”
“Talk.” Her brows drew together. “Doesn’t that use up oxygen faster?”
“We’re not going to run out of oxygen. I promise.”
There was a hint of amusement in his voice that Madison found distinctly irritating. “And if
you’re wrong?”
“Then you can say I told you so. Assuming there’s enough oxygen to say it.”
He was definitely laughing at her. How annoying. Nothing about this day had gone right so far and it didn’t look like it would improve anytime soon. She took a moment to stew over her options. She could continue to amuse him with her fears. Or she could release her current frustration by shrieking for help. Considering her lung power she might find that choice as amusing as he found her. Or she could sit down as he suggested and conduct a calm, rational conversation until someone showed up to rescue them. It didn’t take much thought to choose the most reasonable of the three options.
Alarmed to discover she was shaking, she lowered herself to the carpeted elevator floor and leaned against the wall. Judging by the faint rustling emanating from the far side of the car, Harry had followed suit. She laced her hands together and fought to recover her equilibrium. She’d never lost control before. Not ever. It frightened her more than she cared to admit, perhaps because it had hit so unexpectedly. She took several deep breaths, relieved to discover it helped.
“What would you like to talk about?” she asked in a voice that approached normalcy. At least it no longer betrayed the crushing claustrophobia that had caught her by surprise. She didn’t understand how she could experience such an irrational reaction. It didn’t make the least bit of sense. But then she’d never been trapped in a darkened cage before.
“You were reading when you got on the elevator. I gather from what you were saying that you didn’t care for the book?”
“No.”
“Short and succinct, but not very illuminating. What’s the title?”
He was struggling to keep their conversation going. The least she could do was cooperate. Focus, she reminded herself. “It’s called The Ten Principles of Love.” How in the world could Sunny have bought into such nonsense? “And no, I don’t care for it. It’s total—”
“‘Twaddle.’ Not to mention ‘bilge, drivel, malarkey,’ and I believe you said…’poppycock.”’
The Marriage Project Page 1
