The Marriage Project

by Leclaire, Day

  “I wasn’t certain whether or not I’d take the job. I didn’t see any point in saying anything until I’d made that decision.”

  “But you have now.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

  “Yes.” Dammit all! “I’m sorry, Madison. I promised not to hurt you and I’ve managed to do just that.”

  “You also promised to have my best interests at heart.” Her kissable mouth compressed into an unkissable line. “I’d say you failed on all accounts.”

  “You’re wrong about that. You can’t see it now because you’re too upset. But I promise, having me look over the family business will clear the air between us. It’ll put business to one side and allow us to concentrate on personal issues.”

  She cut him off with a sweep of her hand. “There are no personal issues! Not anymore. You deceived me and I don’t take that well. Not well at all. I need to trust the people in my life, especially when it comes to business.”

  “You still don’t get it.” He closed the distance between them. “Having me work with you has nothing to do with business.”

  She regarded him impatiently, but at least she didn’t back away. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  “Oh, come on. You have to know your grandmother better than that. It’s not like she’s been particularly subtle about it.” When Madison continued to stare blankly, he clarified. “Sunny doesn’t want me looking over the family finances because she thinks you’re doing a bad job. She’s matchmaking.”

  Madison gave a heartbreaking little laugh. “You’re wrong. Her doubts about my ability are precisely what this is about.”

  “No—”

  “You don’t understand, Harry,” she interrupted. “You don’t have all the facts.”

  “Then tell me. What am I missing?”

  She drew a ragged breath and met his gaze, her expression resolute. “I’m an Adams, the daughter of Wilson Adams. That’s why they asked you to check up on me. They want to make sure that I wasn’t corrupted by my father, that I’m not following in his footsteps.”

  Her certainty stopped him cold. “Explain.”

  “I’m sorry they put you in the middle.” She averted her gaze, visibly withdrawing, her emotions concealed behind a dispassionate calm. Even her curls had stilled their vivacious dance. “Never mind. I’ll handle it from here.”

  The hell she would. “I’m not going anywhere, Madison. Not until you tell me what this is about.”

  “You want the sordid details?”

  “Why do I have the feeling I’m supposed to take the high road and say no?” he muttered.

  Wry humor flickered through her gaze, the first hint of amusement he’d seen since they’d arrived at her office. “Wishful thinking on my part, I guess.”

  He considered doing as she asked, shaking his head when he realized he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t let it go. Tell me how your father is involved in all this.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Assuming Sunny and Bartholomew really do get married, you’d have heard the story eventually.” She turned toward the French doors and thrust them open. “Let’s go outside. We can talk there.”

  He followed, pausing at the edge of the grass. The morning light flooded the yard, providing a warm welcome. Cedar chip walkways bordered in begonias crisscrossed the small yard and a set of wooden benches placed beside a massive rhododendron offered a pretty resting spot at the far back of the property. Haphazard flowerbeds spilled onto the neatly trimmed grass, teeming with every possible variety of flower and herb.

  Someone had put a lot of time and effort into the place and Harry suspected he knew who. The garden “felt” like Madison, the abundance of color suited to her vivid appearance. “Nice. Is this where you play?”

  She nodded, confirming his guess. “I’ve found gardening a terrific stress reliever. You should have seen it a few years ago. It was a mess.” She looked around with satisfaction. “It’s been quite a learning experience. I’d barely even picked a flower before giving this a try. It was sort of trial and error for a while there.”

  True, the garden hadn’t been designed by a professional landscaper. Flowers overran everything in an impractical, enthusiastic jumble as though this was the one place in her life she could safely release all controls and act with spontaneous abandon. But Harry found the overall effect appealing. It was also apparent that the garden had been cared for by a loving hand, free of weeds and pests, and well fertilized. Dozens of competing scents perfumed the air, anchored by the rich, earthy odor of freshly tilled soil, the combination melding into an appealing whole. After a few minutes in her garden Madison visibly relaxed and a healthy flush returned to her cheekbones.

  She took her time, wandering to the fence marking the end of her property. Every few steps she bent to pull a weed or pinch off a faded bloom. “I think I mentioned that my father was an accountant,” she finally said.

  “You told me you’d inherited your practical nature from him.”

  “Yes. Dad was always…practical.” She stooped beside an aggressive clump of mint even though it caused the points of her stiletto heels to sink into the dew-laden grass. Harry had the distinct impression she did it to avoid his gaze. The fact that it was so out of character riveted his attention. “Dad was also one of the most amoral men I’ve ever known. He was a thief and a liar.”

  Harry grimaced. Hell. He hadn’t seen that one coming. “I gather that’s not just idle speculation?”

  “No. In the years he was married to my mother, he systematically stripped the Sunflowers of most of their assets.”

  Harry crouched beside Madison while he considered her claim. Grasping her elbow so she wouldn’t lose her balance, he removed first one of her shoes, then the other.

  She frowned at him in exasperation. “What are you doing?”

  “Keeping you from ruining your shoes.”

  “What possible difference does it make if they get wrecked?”

  He cradled the scraps of leather in his hands and regarded them with a smile. “This may come as news to you, but men fantasize about shoes like this.”

  “Want to try them on?” she asked dryly.

  His smile grew. “No, sweetheart. Aside from the fact that I couldn’t fit much more than my big toe in them, they suit you far better. Actually, they’d suit you best if you wore these and as little else as possible.” He fired his next question at her before she had time to do more than stare at him in stunned disbelief. “Did Sunny tell you Wilson had stolen the Sunflowers’s money?”

  She looked like she preferred to discuss the shoes some more—anything to avoid their previous conversation—but finally shook her head. “No. Sunny never said a word.”

  “Then who?”

  She stood and walked barefoot to the next flowerbed, throwing her reply over her shoulder almost as an afterthought. “Dad told me.”

  “Wait a minute.” Harry caught up with her and turned her around. Without her heels she appeared small and fragile and painfully defenseless. There was also a look of such bleakness in her eyes that if their conversation hadn’t been so vital, he’d have gathered her in his arms and talked about anything and everything other than their current topic. But instinct warned that he should get to the bottom of this, that it was at the core of all that stood between them. “Let me get this straight. Your father admitted he stole from your own mother?”

  For the first time since he’d met her, she refused to meet his gaze, staring at a point somewhere over his right shoulder. “He was quite up front about it. Proud, even.”

  “I don’t get it. Why would he have confessed to you?”

  “Confessed?” Her quiet laugh floated on the warm air, the underlying anguish painful to hear. She wrapped her arms around herself. “It wasn’t a confession, Harry. He was bragging. He wanted me to admire his cleverness.”

  “That son of a—” He bit off the rest of what he’d planned to say. Wilson Adams might be a bastard, but he was still her fathe
r. “What did your mother do? You told her what he’d said, didn’t you?”

  He’d asked the wrong question. Tears filled Madison’s eyes, and the calm she’d fought to maintain fractured, her pain too great to contain any longer. “No, I didn’t tell her.”

  “Why, Madison?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell your mother?”

  The first tear fell. “I couldn’t find her.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the wooden benches beside the rhododendron. He held her without speaking for a long time, letting her cry her way through what must have been the most traumatic time of her life. When she finally lifted her head, she swiped at his suit coat with shaking fingers.

  “I’ve made a mess of your jacket.”

  “Like I give a damn.” He slid his hand into her hair, the silky curls wrapping around his fingers in vibrant welcome. “Do you want to tell me the rest?”

  “There’s not much left to explain.”

  He forced himself to intrude a little further. “What happened to your mother?”

  “Dad divorced her. He was awarded custody of me by the courts.” She’d managed to recover most of her control, but a wealth of emotion came through in those two simple statements. “That’s why I couldn’t find my mother. He took me as far from her as he could.”

  “He won custody? How did he manage that?”

  “I told you. The Adamses consist mainly of accountants and lawyers, with a few bankers thrown in for good measure. They’re very skilled at what they do. Very methodical. They make a living at corrupting all that’s good and helpful about those professions. My mother never stood a chance. Dad portrayed her and the rest of her family as kooks and nutcases, a danger to my well-being. I still don’t know all the specifics, just that when I walked into the courtroom it was surrounded by Sunflowers. And when I was carried out by my father, it was kicking and screaming the entire way.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  “Where’s your father now?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask. He might be tempted to do something about it.

  She shrugged. “Back east.” Her mouth twisted. “We don’t talk much anymore.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She took off for Europe after the divorce. She shows up every once in a while.”

  So Madison had lost both mother and father. No wonder she was so contained. She must have learned the behavior long ago out of sheer self-preservation. “When did you return to Seattle?”

  “The day I turned eighteen. I’d always planned to, even as a little girl. From the minute my father took me east, I dreamed of finding a way back home. I used to secretly call myself Dorothy after The Wizard of Oz. Whenever things got really bad I’d tap my shoes together and beg to be sent home.” Her smile held a wistful quality. “It never worked, but I kept trying anyway. When I finally came of age, I didn’t have to tap my shoes. I simply pointed them west, started walking, and didn’t stop until I found Sunny.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I went to college and learned everything I could about how to fix all the damage my father had caused. And since graduating I’ve spent the last four years putting right all of his wrongs.” Madison escaped Harry’s arms. Snatching her shoes from his hands, she slipped them on her feet. Armored with the extra few inches they provided, she faced him with a hint of her old defiance. “You may not believe this, but I’m very good at my job. The Sunflowers were almost bankrupt when I arrived here. In the few short years I’ve had control of their assets, I’ve restored everything my father destroyed, and then some. I even bought back the family home.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He stood, as well. “But the one thing nobody seems to have bothered to explain to you is that Wilson’s actions weren’t your fault. You don’t have to keep paying for them.”

  “I’m not paying, I’m protecting,” she corrected. “There’s a big difference. So long as I’m in control, my family’s safe from my father and every other con artist who’s tempted to take advantage of them.”

  He steered her back to the original discussion. “And you think that because your father embezzled from the Sunflowers, they’ve asked me to step in and check up on you? Make sure you aren’t your father’s daughter?”

  “What other reason could there be?” Tears welled into her eyes again and she visibly fought them back. This time she succeeded, her determination to hold her emotions at bay painful to witness. “Not that I blame them. It’s a sensible precaution.”

  He proceeded with care. “Yes, it is. And yes, it would be, if we were dealing with sensible people. But since we’re not, I think you need to consider the possibility that there’s another reason for their request.”

  “You mean your matchmaking theory.”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head and her hands balled into fists, warning that her control was more fragile than it appeared. “It’s ridiculous to think Sunny’s request is motivated by a desire to set us up.”

  “It’s ridiculous to think that’s not her reason,” he argued. “She has no business acumen, from what you’ve said. It isn’t logical to believe she’d acquire it at this late date. If you want to find out the real reason for her interference, it’s simple. We’ll ask her.”

  “No! I won’t put Sunny in such an embarrassing position.”

  “Honey, Sunny doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘embarrassing.’ I guarantee she’d be very upset to think you’d misinterpreted her actions.” He could tell he hadn’t convinced her. “Okay, fine. We won’t mention our discussion to your grandmother. Instead, I’ll take a look at your setup. And you’ll cooperate.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because it’s what your family wants and it will put paid to your suspicions. If they continue to push us together, even after I’ve completed my examination, you can safely assume that’s why Sunny concocted this scheme. Fair enough?”

  “Is that my only choice?”

  “No.” He tugged her into his arms, pleasantly surprised when she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his. “You can accept what your relatives are offering without complaint or argument.”

  “And what are they offering?”

  He lowered his head until their mouths were a mere whisper apart. “Me.”

  Her lashes fluttered closed and he kissed her. She was so soft, so giving, so eager. And yet, he knew it wouldn’t last. Too many secrets remained that would drive a wedge between them when they ultimately came out. But at least the first one had been dealt with and he hadn’t lost her.

  Time would tell how she handled the others.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to top Dell and Harley,” Daniel announced, slumping into the chair next to Rosy’s desk. “They’ve been quite helpful. Thanks to them, Harry and Madison have spent the last week working together without a single argument.”

  “Oh, there have been plenty of arguments. They’ve just led to these long, disgusting silences.” Rosy scowled, drumming her three-inch, neon-green-spackled fingernails on her desktop. “I just know they’re doin’ it on her desk. Try and find that rule in Jones’s book.”

  Daniel squirmed in his chair. “I’m sure I don’t recall anything about desks.”

  “Trust me, I’ve looked—twice—and it isn’t there.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Rosy tossed her telephone headset onto the desk in utter disgust. “You’ve got that right. Who’d have thought Harley and Dell could have pulled off so much as one rule, let alone two. And so successfully. Those idiots are a prime example of incompetence stumbling into disaster and falling flat onto success. Unbelievable. They really fry my a—” One glimpse of Daniel’s wide-eyed stared had her changing her phrasing. “They really fry my acorns.”

  “What should we do?”

  She gave it some thought. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that we can stumble from incompetence to disaster and fall flat on success, t
oo?”

  “I’m afraid it might be.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.” She drummed some more. “But if we don’t butt in and soon, Harry and Madison might not even need our help.”

  Her uncle shook his head. “I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t see how we can top your cousin and aunt.”

  “Well, we’re gonna try.” She shot him a warning glare. “And we’re gonna do it without you ending up in jail for being too helpful. Understand?”

  “But I like helping.”

  “Tough. That judge told you to knock it off and you better listen to him and not that slimy lawyer.”

  “Mr. Bryant doesn’t seem to mind it when I get into trouble.”

  “Of course not! He rakes in a bundle every time you do.” This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “How many rules do we have left to choose from?”

  Daniel pried open the book and flipped through the pages. “Not many. Something about perfection and—” He broke off with a blush. “Oh, my.”

  “Sex,” Rosy guessed, grinning in satisfaction. “Perfect. I can do sex.”

  “I did not hear that!”

  “Sure you did. You just didn’t want to.” She leaned forward and patted Daniel’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to lift a finger and I’ll even give you partial credit.”

  “Please, Rosy. I’d really rather you didn’t involve me at all. Not if it’s about—”

  “Relax. This is gonna be lots better than jail. You’ll see.” She glanced down the hallway toward Madison’s office with a sly smile. “It’ll sure as hell be better than a desk, which I’m hopin’ those two will find out real soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Principle 8: Perfection doesn’t exist.

  So, what’s really important to you?

  “STOP being so stubborn, Madison.”

  “Stubborn?” She glared at Harry. “You have a lot of nerve calling me stubborn. We went over Harley’s portfolio three days ago. Why are we doing it again?”

  “I still have some questions about his IRA.”