Wife by Wednesday

by Catherine Bybee; Crystal Posey

  Samantha stepped into the cool interior of the restaurant and let the mouth-watering smell of garlic and herbs wash over her senses. The last time she’d dined in a five star restaurant was with one of her happily married female clients last year. Sam had given up fine dining and opulent living long ago. Some things she missed, and eating something other than pop-in-the-microwave dinners and take out was up there on her wish list.

  Before Samantha had a chance to step up to the hostess, a man approached her. “Miss Elliot?”

  Strange, he didn’t seem to be wearing the required uniform of the staff. Maybe he was a manager.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Harrison is waiting for you.”

  Must be the manager. Samantha followed the well-dressed man deeper into the restaurant until he led her to a secluded booth with a full view of the Pacific. Blake Harrison saw her and stood as she approached.

  Like before, his chiseled features and the way he filled out his designer suit brought a wave of awareness over her skin. He dominated the space by simply being there.

  His eyes scanned her frame and a small smile lifted to the corner of his lips. She’d changed into a simple dress, not too casual, but certainly nothing fit for the Oscars. The expression on Blake’s face said he approved. Not that she dressed to meet his approval, but she didn’t want to appear out of place sitting beside him. She met his eyes and felt a hot current zip up her spine.

  “You’re late,” he said, his voice teasing.

  She opened her mouth doing her best guppy impersonation, and then closed it. “Touché.”

  He smiled. “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.” Blake waited until she slid into the booth before reaching for the wine sitting in an ice bucket beside him.

  She watched him pour the pale liquid into a stemmed glass and did her best not to stare. “Are we celebrating?”

  “Perhaps,” he said as he shifted the bottle over to his glass.

  She wanted to rush and ask him whom on her list he approved of. Of course, he hadn’t met the women yet, and she sincerely doubted he’d chosen one.

  Blake lifted his glass, and waited until she joined him in a toast. “To a successful business relationship.”

  A shiver of uncertainty flittered over her hand as she reached for her wine. The way Blake said relationship didn’t sit well. After clicking her glass with his, and sipping the wine, Samantha placed her hands in her lap to hide the slight tremor that would give away her feelings.

  “I hope your drive wasn’t awful.”

  Okay, so they weren’t going to start with business as she’d have liked. Instead of pushing him, she allowed the casual conversation to continue. “PCH is always difficult to traverse at dinner time.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet me here.”

  “I’m surprised you picked this location. I’d think that a business dinner would be in a place less formal.” Less romantic, she wanted to add.

  Blake relaxed into the booth. His sinfully handsome features made it nearly impossible to concentrate on the reason she was sitting across from him. It was entirely too easy to wade into his amazing grey eyes and fall into the warmth of his smile.

  “It’s against my nature to invite a beautiful woman to a bar for cocktails.”

  Oh, boy, time to swing this train around. Samantha knew she wasn’t beautiful, attractive maybe, but the kind of beauty this man was drawn to was way out of Samantha’s league. “You’re charming, Mr. Harrison, but you’re wasting it on me. I take it you’ve had an opportunity to look at the portfolios my assistant faxed over.”

  His eyes narrowed but he didn’t say a word. Samantha swallowed and clutched her hands together in her lap. Instead of running from his eyes, she met them head on and kept her lips sealed.

  It took a waiter stepping to the table to break the tension. The twenty-something server detailed the chef specials while Samantha picked up her menu. This was her client, and etiquette dictated that she be the one to pick up the bill, even if the restaurant was out of her budget. She settled on the swordfish and a small dinner salad and did her best to ignore the prices on the menu. She’d put it on her credit card, and hope Mr. Harrison’s check would clear before it came due.

  When left alone, he asked, “Tell me, Samantha… why would I be wasting my charm on you?”

  He pronounced her name like a lover’s caress, smooth and silky. She heard a hint of an English accent. An accent she thought would be thick on his tongue because of his title.

  “We’re here to discuss your pending marriage to one of the three women from my service,” she reminded him. “I’m not sure how charming me can work to any advantage for you.”

  “Does everything have to have an angle?”

  “In business, yes.” In her world anyway.

  “What about in your personal life?” He sat forward, his jacket opened as he did and she noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing a tie. His dress shirt’s first two buttons were undone and his bronze skin underneath caught her eye.

  “We aren’t here to discuss my personal life.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Your summary of my life this morning prompted me to do some digging of my own.”

  Samantha braced herself for his judgment. She never tried to hide her past, but always stood a chance and losing a client because of the sins of her father. “One doesn’t have to dig deep to unveil my past, Mr. Harrison.”

  “I thought we decided you’d call me Blake.”

  First names and talk of relationships… this was not going well. Samantha poured a little more wine down her throat, suddenly wishing it was something stronger. “My father is a horrible man, my mother was a coward. Neither of them reflects who I am or how I tend to my business, Blake.”

  “I didn’t suggest otherwise.”

  She hated the defensive tone in her voice, and the transient look of pity on Blake’s face.

  “You purposely left the last names of the women out, why is that?”

  Oh, good, back to business. “I’m not the only one whose parents have darkened people’s perceptions. I realize that family can pose a problem to any relationship, even if it’s a business relationship, but starting out with information about the women themselves helps keep the door of possibilities open.”

  “Are the women all trust fund babies or daughters of convicted felons?”

  “Hardly. All three have severed their family ties… financially anyway. Which is why they’re searching for security and not love.”

  Blake fingered the stem of his glass. She watched his movements and wondered briefly, what it would feel like to have his hands on her skin, running up and down her arms, her thighs. Heat rushed up her neck and she shifted her gaze away. “I can give you their names now if you insist. If it’s going to weigh on your decision, then it’s best you know.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’ve already picked the woman I’m going to offer a contract to.”

  Samantha’s head shot in his direction right as the waiter brought their salads. She held her tongue while the waiter crushed fresh black pepper over their first course and topped off their glasses with the wine. The anticipation was eating her up. Whom did he pick, and why? How could he actually decide to offer marriage to a person without even meeting her? That was extreme, even for the titled millionaire sitting across from her. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. What did she really know about Blake Harrison? He liked his women busty, leggy, and lean. She’d not found one picture of the man without a model type hanging from his arm, hence the reason Samantha picked the three most beautiful women in her little black book, which was actually a little black notebook. Still, how did a man pick from three pictures?

  “Don’t you want to meet them first?” Suddenly, the thought of him picking a wife from a photograph felt shallow, even to her. Were men so easily swayed by a beautiful face? The short answer was “yes.” She knew it was possible that Blake Harrison was as superf
icial as the next guy, but disappointment hovered over her as he proved it with his actions.

  “The women in the pictures?”

  Sam shook her head, confused. “Of course those women.”

  “No.” He picked up his fork and took a bite.

  No? Oh, shit. He’d decided to marry someone else. The dollar signs she’d seen from the first mention of his name started to float out to sea. “You’ve found someone else who has agreed to marry you?”

  “She hasn’t agreed, not yet anyway.” He took another bite, casual and in control.

  If he wasn’t going to use her service, then why the hell was she here? “So Alliance is a back up plan?” Maybe he wasn’t kissing her off quite yet. Men like him didn’t do things without reason.

  “Not entirely.”

  Samantha dropped her fork and fixed him with a stare. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrison, but I’m confused. Just this morning you were looking for a contractual woman to meet your needs and that has changed in a few hours? Or are you not satisfied with the ladies I presented?”

  Blake gave up the pretense of eating and placed his hands on the table beside his plate. “The women you picked were perfect. Too perfect. My time frame to choose a wife is narrow. Getting to know each of those lovely ladies and making a decision is a luxury I don’t have.” He reached below the table and grasped onto a briefcase she hadn’t seen. He removed a file folder and pushed it on the table in front of her.

  “What’s this?”

  “The agreement my lawyer and I wrote up this afternoon.”

  She itched to open the folder, but laid her hand on it instead. “What agreement?”

  Blake’s grey eyes held onto hers. “I’m offering you a marriage contract.”

  Her heart fell in an audible thump. “I’m not on the menu, Mr. Harrison.” She pushed the papers back toward him. He caught her hand under his and held it firm. The contact shot that sizzle she’d felt when she’d first seen him straight to her toes and back up again. The constant thud of her heart started to rise and gooseflesh spread over her bare arms. Sam’s entire body tingled and the only part of them touching was their hands.

  “Everyone has a price, Samantha.”

  “Not me.” She tried to pull away, but he squeezed her fingers to keep her from running.

  “I’m setting up a trust fund to take care of Jordan for life. Even if something were to happen to you, Jordan would be taken care of.”

  Sam’s mouth opened with that guppy look again. A bomb going off couldn’t have shocked her more. Blake had done his homework, knew of her sister and her needs. “My sister is only twenty-two years old. She could live to be a hundred.” Not likely, according to the doctors, but there wasn’t proof she’d die young.

  “And her care costs you a hundred and six thousand a year. Those expenses will only go up.” His hand loosened on hers, but she didn’t pull away.

  “You’re willing to pay me over eight million dollars to be your wife for a year?”

  “Plus twenty percent. That is your fee, right?”

  Samantha nodded slowly then shook her head. “Why me?”

  “Why not you?” His thumb started to move over her hand but she was still too stunned to move.

  “I’m not your type.”

  “My type?”

  “Tall, blonde, and gorgeous.”

  He chuckled and the laugh grounded her. This was a business deal, after all, nothing more, nothing less. Blake had turned her hand over and was rubbing the inside of her wrist with soothing circles. Okay, maybe a marriage contract was a bit more than a business deal. She removed her hand from under his.

  “What would marriage to you look like?”

  “Your life wouldn’t have to change,” he said as he lifted his wine to his lips. “A quick trip to the justice of the peace, maybe Vegas. We’d have to make a few appearances over the first few months to satisfy the lawyers my father hired before his death and my cousin who stands to gain should this not work out. I spend half of my time in Europe, half here in Malibu so we wouldn’t cramp each others’ daily life.”

  “Why not find a wife in Europe?”

  “To minimize the relentless media eyes in Europe. The States don’t have tabloids dedicated to Kings and Queens, Dukes and Duchesses. The newness of my nuptials will wear off quickly.”

  The stipulations in Blake’s father’s will stated that Blake had to be married and settled by his thirty-sixth birthday in order to inherit the man’s wealth and keep his title. After much debate, the lawyers determined that after a year of marriage, they could relinquish his inheritance and lift any further legal restrictions. This was what Samantha’s contacts in London had told her.

  “What kind of appearances?”

  “A small reception and a few appearances in public venues. I’d need you to come with me to London to sign papers with the lawyers in regard to my title, our titles.”

  She swallowed; she had forgotten about the whole Duchess thing. “I’ve no idea what being a Duchess is about.”

  Blake lifted his fork and started eating again. “I’ve never had one, so I’m not completely sure either.”

  Samantha couldn’t help but offer a laugh. “This is crazy.”

  “I’m surprised you think so. The arrangement makes perfect sense to me.”

  The waiter returned with their meals and quickly left.

  Samantha remembered the advice she’d given Blake earlier in the day. It will be up to you to keep it in your pants, Mr. Harrison. Perhaps he picked her because of how easy it would be to stay out of her bed. That made perfect sense. Maybe he’d seen the pictures of the women she’d picked out and found them perfectly doable.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  She really needed to work on her poker face. “Nothing… I—this is a lot to think about. I wasn’t expecting this proposal.”

  “But you’re considering it.”

  “I’d be a fool not to.”

  “You don’t strike me as foolish.” He took a bite of his prime rib with a gleam in his eye.

  No, she wasn’t a fool. “I’ll look over your contract tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.”

  Chapter Three

  The plane reached cruising altitude and the pilot told them they could remove their seatbelts for the forty-five minute flight to Las Vegas. Blake took advantage of the freedom to move about the cabin of his private jet and open a bottle of champagne.

  Samantha said very little once they boarded. After she had agreed to be his wife for a year, he solidified his plans for a wedding chapel visit in SinCity. He believed a seemingly romantic wedding in Vegas would appear more legitimate to Parker and Parker than a drive to city hall.

  When he glanced at his fiancé, he noted how her hands twisted in her lap. Funny, he was the one with everything to lose, but she was the one fidgeting. “Here, maybe this will help.” He handed her a tall flute and sat across from her in the oversize, plush leather chair.

  “Am I so obvious?”

  “The white knuckles give you away.”

  Samantha swallowed half the wine in one drink. “I never wanted to be an actress.”

  “I’d bet the studios would pay top dollar for you to do voiceovers.”

  She shrugged. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that.”

  He could only imagine. “You do have an amazing voice.”

  Samantha’s eyes scurried away from his and her cheeks started to take on a rosy glow. “I think this marriage thing will work out better if we didn’t find anything about the each other amazing. Nothing personal, anyway.”

  “You’re probably right, but being honest is something we both agreed to. And your voice is sexy as hell.” Watching her squirm under his compliment was worth him showing his cards. She wore a full-on blush now and it was nothing short of adorable.

  Just like that, her glass was empty. “I’m not sure if I should thank you or encourage you to be less shallow.”

  “Ouch.”
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  “You wanted honesty.”

  He watched her toe off her high heels and tuck her legs under the seat. Some of the color started to return to her fingers. Obviously dissing him put her at ease. He wasn’t sure how to take that. “The only person in my life who’s called me shallow is Carter.”

  “Your best friend?”

  “My one real friend.”

  “Really? I’d think a man with your wealth would have an entourage of friends.”

  “Money brings people, not friends,” he said.

  “Amen to that. I take it Carter knows about us. Our arrangement I mean.”

  “He does.”

  “What about your girlfriends? Do they know?”

  Now it was his turn to squirm. Even though their marriage would be a sham, talking about his lovers with his wife didn’t feel right.

  “Telling my girlfriends, as you call them, would be equivalent to calling the Inquisitor and giving them a full page interview.” Blake finished his wine and stood to refill their glasses.

  “You don’t trust them?”

  “Not with this.”

  “How do men do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Sleep with women they don’t trust?” Samantha thanked him for the wine and sipped it slowly this time.

  “It’s called attraction.”

  Laughing, she said, “It’s called lust.”

  “That, too.” Blake’s insides started to warm. When was the last time he’d held a conversation with a woman about the motivations of men? Never. He found he liked it.

  “So what did you say to your… what do you call the women in your life, lovers?”

  The title of lovers started to feel too personal. “I haven’t told them anything… yet.”

  She lifted her manicured eyebrows high. “I’d like to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. Oh, darling, by the way… I got married over the weekend.” Samantha laughed at her own joke.