A Marriage of Convenience

by Doreen Owens Malek

  Sharon moved closer, her fingers itching with the urge to touch. She could see only one side of his face, the luxurious lashes, the strong nose, the full lower lip that still bore a faint mark from his last fight. His hair, slightly wavy and curling inward at the tips, lay against the base of his neck in a series of elongated commas. She touched one of them gingerly. He didn't move.

  Emboldened but trembling, Sharon raised the sheet and crawled in beside him. His body heat, trapped by the cotton cover, radiated around her, and she could see beads of perspiration dappling his shoulder blades. He must have been asleep for some time.

  Sharon put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He stirred, murmuring in his sleep, and turned toward her, slipping his arm under her. He was naked.

  She had never felt a nude man all along the length of her, and she shuddered with the sensation as he took charge of the situation, pulling her on top of him. He ran his hands down her body, his eyes still closed, and searched in the dark for her mouth with his.

  She had dreamed of kissing him for so long that the reality was like a dream, too—the surprising softness of his lips, the vise of his arms binding her to him, his sigh of gratification as her mouth opened to admit his probing tongue. It was more wonderful than she had ever imagined. Before this, she had kissed only high school boys who didn't know what they were doing.

  Tay knew what he was doing.

  His mouth moved to her neck and he plucked at the folds of her gown, obviously searching for the way to remove it. Sharon shifted to accommodate him, and he moaned, clutching her tightly as he felt her slip into the cradle of his hips. He turned and rolled her under him, kissing her breasts through the thin batiste nightdress, raising her nipples with his tongue. Sharon whimpered, throwing her head back as he pressed into her, and she felt him ready against her thigh.

  "Tay," she whispered feverishly. "Oh, Tay, I love you."

  Her voice seemed to trigger some sort of recognition within him, and he sat up abruptly, pushing her away from him.

  "My God, Sharon, what are you doing?" he gasped, struggling out of the half sleep in which she had caught him.

  "Making love to you," she replied, trying to wind her arms around his neck again.

  He held her off, trapping both of her wrists in one of his hands. "Go back to the house," he said harshly. His breath was coming in short bursts, and she could see his pulse pumping madly in his throat.

  "Let me stay," she pleaded, kissing the only part of him she could reach, which was his left bicep. "You want me, I know you do. You can't deny it now."

  Tay looked at her, so soft and pliant and scented in his bed, wearing two ounces of nothing, her pale hair aglow in the moonlight streaming through his window. He wanted her more than she could ever guess. He wanted her unstained soul as much as he wanted her body, but he was about to do the most unselfish thing he had ever done, though he knew she wouldn't see it that way.

  "Get out of here now," he said, turning his head. "I don't want you and never have. You're a baby and I need a real woman. Go back home to school and play with your pencil box."

  Sharon stared at him, stunned. "But just now..." she began.

  "Just now you could have been anyone. I was asleep, you became part of my dream. You were a female body in bed with me, like one of the whores I used to patronize in Saigon. I'm a man, what do you expect?"

  "Then, you don't...care about me?" Sharon asked, the threat of tears trembling in her voice.

  Tay steeled himself. He had to be convincing or she would never make a clean break.

  "You were all right to pass the time," he replied neutrally. "I had nothing better to do this summer."

  Sharon tore away from him and bolted from the bed, her bare feet slapping the floor, her nightgown flying. Tay didn't look after her but remained staring at her abandoned slippers upside down on the dusty floorboards, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal.

  He would always remember the look on her face as she reacted to his cruel words. He felt his own throat tighten with unshed tears. God, he had hurt her. But he had no choice. Or did he?

  He stood abruptly, thrusting his hands through his damp hair. She had really worked him up; he was still charged, jittery. He went to the window and gulped the night air.

  If she only knew his real feelings. The truth was that he was desperate to keep her from leaving and had spent long hours that evening by himself in the bunkhouse, wondering what to do. He had gone to sleep exhausted when he couldn't think about it anymore, and had awakened to find her in his bed.

  He could ask her to marry him, he thought wildly. Eighteen-year-old girls got married all the time. Hell, in New Guinea they got married at thirteen. He could go up to the house right now and talk to Dan, tell him that he was in love with Sharon and wanted to take care of her.

  That, of course, was the problem. He had unfortunately spent most of the summer demonstrating to anyone within earshot that he was hardly capable of taking care of himself. He wouldn't be surprised if Dan punched him. What father would want his daughter to marry Tay Braddock? Especially when the daughter was a young and innocent girl like Sharon. Tay knew better than anyone else how damaged he was, how unable to offer a future or even the hope of one.

  He sat down again, dispiritedly. He shouldn't deprive Sharon of her chance to get an education, see the world, perhaps meet another man far more suitable than himself; Tay had so little going for him to counterbalance that possibility that thinking about it drove him to distraction.

  He was her first love and he wanted to be her only one, but he knew that she couldn't make an informed choice until she was older and more experienced. It wasn't fair of him to pick her off the tree before anyone else got into the orchard.

  All of these things he knew, but what he wanted was to run after her and keep her for himself. Instead he got his cigarettes and sat up smoking until daybreak, feeling more lonely and bereft than he ever had in his life.

  * * * *

  Sharon spent a sleepless night also, crying intermittently. She wound up putting ice packs on her eyes at six in the morning to reduce the redness and swelling before Rae and Dan saw her. She dressed desultorily as the sun rose, glancing at her packed luggage and thinking that by nightfall she would be back in Philadelphia with her mother.

  She couldn't believe it.

  She forced down some breakfast, said her goodbyes to Rae and Rosa and the other people on the ranch and climbed into the car with her father. Her eyes filmed over again as they drove down the road that ran between the corrals, and she turned her head so her father wouldn't see.

  She didn't notice Tay standing just inside the stable door, watching her leave, his expression bleak.

  She never saw him again.

  Chapter 4

  The doorbell rang and Sharon snapped back to the present, glancing at the clock as she got up to answer it.

  She had spent over an hour thinking about the past, remembering her relationship with Tay Braddock.

  And now, God help her, she was expected to marry him.

  She opened the door to admit her neighbor, who had accepted a package for Sharon that day while she was at work. Sharon chatted with her for a few minutes and when the woman left tossed the box onto her coffee table. She'd lost interest in the sweater she'd ordered two weeks earlier. She had more important things to consider now.

  The burning humiliation of that last night with Tay had stayed fresh in her mind all through the years. She'd experienced other painful and embarrassing situations since then, of course. But her age at that time, combined with the depth of her feeling for Tay, always made her remember it with special chagrin.

  Sharon picked up the papers she'd been reading when her reverie began and stacked them on her chair. She would get back to them later.

  She made a tuna fish sandwich for dinner and spent the rest of the evening reexamining her father's will. Crawford was right. There was no way around it, she had to marry Tay in order to solve
this problem. By the time she got to work the next morning, she had made up her mind, however reluctantly, to do it.

  Sharon spoke to Desmond about a leave and then called Pete Symonds to arrange to meet him for lunch. She had to persuade him to take over her files once she completed her current case so that she could go to California.

  The restaurant was a little cafe that catered to the legal crowd, with glass topped tables and lots of hanging plants. Pete was already seated and he stood when the hostess showed Sharon to their table.

  "Hi," he said as she slipped into a chair across from him. "What's up?"

  "I need to ask you a big favor," Sharon said.

  "Shoot."

  "I have to go to California and I'd like you to cover my cases while I'm gone," Sharon said quickly, wincing.

  He stared at her. "California? Now?"

  “To settle my father's estate.''

  "I didn't think you'd have to go out there to do that. When did this happen?"

  "Just yesterday. The will is a mess, and I really should be there in person to straighten it out. I've already spoken to John and told him I would ask you to help."

  '' How long will you be gone?''

  "A couple of months."

  His mouth fell open. "A couple of months! Honey, Henry Ford's will wasn't that complicated. What's going on?"

  For some reason Sharon didn't want to tell Pete the whole truth about the situation. Probably because it might lead to a discussion of Tay and the past, a subject she heartily wished to avoid.

  "It's actually kind of a combination leave and vacation," Sharon said weakly. "John already okayed it."

  "Well if John okayed it I guess there's nothing I can do,'' Pete replied unhappily. “When are you leaving? "

  "As soon as the Hammond thing wraps up. John said you could hire a law student to help with the work load. I'll put ads in the school newspapers this afternoon, and I've already sent a messenger over to Penn and Temple with notices for the intern employment bulletin boards."

  "Not wasting any time, are you?" Pete said.

  "Well, there is a certain urgency because my stepbrother is involved too," Sharon replied uncomfortably.

  "Oh, right."

  "He runs the ranch, and he has to know how this is going to be handled."

  "I see." Pete brushed back a lock of medium brown hair and gazed at her with his medium brown eyes. Everything about him was medium. Maybe that was the problem, Sharon thought. Her response to him was medium, too.

  "I sure am going to miss you," he added.

  "I'll be back before you know it." Sharon privately thought that some time away from Pete might be a good idea. He had been dropping hints about marriage lately, and she was far from ready to even discuss it.

  "I guess you'd better brief me on what you're carrying," Pete said, referring to her caseload.

  Sharon nodded and picked up the menu as he signaled for the waitress.

  * * * *

  Her leave came through a week later. She packed and closed up her apartment, booking a direct flight to Los Angeles. On the way to the airport she sent a telegram to the ranch, announcing her arrival. She deliberately avoided calling long distance, preferring to deal with Tay in person rather than a disembodied voice on the phone. Tay was aware of the will and would know that Sharon's arrival meant that she accepted its terms.

  The flight to Los Angeles was a long one and Sharon had plenty of time to think. She was dreading the reunion but at the same time felt a sort of resignation about it. In a very real sense she had been heading toward this for a long time.

  Sunlight streamed into the glass fronted arrival lounge as she left the covered walkway that connected the plane to the terminal building. She was fishing in her purse for her baggage tickets when she realized that someone was standing off to one side, watching her. She turned her head and looked at Tay Braddock.

  Any hope that he might have become unattractive were dashed immediately. She had been wishing for fat or bald, but neither was true. If anything, he was more compelling than she remembered. Her heart sank.

  He walked toward her with the measured stride she recalled so well. He had filled out a little and looked, not heavier, but broader. There were silvery threads of gray in his thick dark hair, which was shorter now and layered in a current style. He was wearing a light blue shirt that flattered his dusky coloring, with faded jeans and worn moccasins. His brown eyes met hers as he stopped in front of her.

  "Hello, Sharon," he said quietly.

  They examined each other for several seconds in silence. His gaze was riveting. "Eyes of gold and bramble dew," she thought; it was a romantic description, but accurate.

  "How did you know which plane to meet?" she finally asked.

  "Is that all you can say to me after ten years? "he countered, his expression sober.

  "Well, this is hardly a conventional reunion," Sharon said stiffly.

  "Hardly," he murmured, watching her face. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, etched by time and exposure to the sun, but the rest of his face was remarkably the same.

  "How did you know which flight?" she repeated.

  "I checked around," he said vaguely.

  "What?"

  "I knew the day you were arriving, so I checked the flights coming in from Philadelphia," he explained inadequately.

  She saw that he wasn't going to elaborate, so she didn't pursue it. She didn't need any further evidence of a determination she remembered vividly.

  "It would have been easier if you had just told me," he suggested, falling into step beside her and taking her overnight bag.

  "Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be met?" Sharon inquired.

  "It occurred to me," he said mildly, shooting her a sidelong glance that Sharon ignored. She marched beside him in silence until he added, "You cut your hair."

  "I cut my hair eight years ago," she replied crisply.

  "I know. I saw the pictures."

  "My father showed them to you?"

  "I asked to see them," he answered.

  She let that pass. "How are things at the ranch?"

  "All right. The place isn't the same without your dad."

  His voice was tinged with sadness, and Sharon realized that he was grieving, too, perhaps more than she, because he had seen her father every day.

  "So you're a lawyer now," he said, still trying to make conversation.

  "That's right."

  "Do you like it?"

  “I like it well enough.''

  "I just can't picture you doing that," he said, shaking his head.

  "Why not?"

  "You were so...delicate," he said as if that explained his attitude.

  "I'm no longer the impulsive child you remember," Sharon said crisply, not looking at him.

  "What a shame," he said softly. "I liked her quite a lot."

  Sharon stopped short and faced him. "Is that right?" she said tightly. "Funny, that's not the way I recall it."

  He dropped his eyes. "Sharon, let's not do this. I get the message. You resent being here and you clearly don't want to see me. Okay. But there's no point in denying reality."

  "Which is?"

  "You're here because we're getting married. Do you think we can pretend that isn't true?"

  “I’d like to pretend it isn't true,'' she muttered.

  He sighed as they got on an escalator to descend to the baggage area. “You don't have to be so defensive."

  Sharon looked at him, and he met her gaze squarely.

  “Oh, this whole thing is so bizarre," Sharon mumbled irritably, looking away. "I feel like giving the ranch to a tuna cannery."

  "Gotta marry me first."

  Sharon refused to smile.

  He waited a moment, then touched her arm. She stared up into his face.

  “Sharon, look. I know I'm the last man on earth you would marry if it were your choice, but all we have to do is tolerate each other long enough to get through the formalities. Tha
t lawyer, Crawford, called me, and if we don't do this, we're going to spend a long time in court untangling the mess. You understand that better than I do. Let's take the easy route, okay? I'll stay out of your way, I promise, and in a couple of months it will all be over."

  The easy route? Sharon thought. Easy for him, maybe.

  "Why did my father set his will up this way?” she asked as they walked to the baggage carousel. "Do you know?"

  "He wanted you to be settled, and..." He stopped.

  "And?"

  "He always remembered the good influence you were on me that summer our parents got married," he concluded quietly.

  "So he was thinking of you?" Sharon said.

  "He was thinking of both of us." He pulled her bags from the carousel as they passed. Sharon handed him her stubs as he shouldered her carryall and grabbed a bag with each hand. He showed her tickets to the attendant and they passed into the throng of milling travelers.

  "Wait here," he said abruptly. "I'll come back for you."

  Sharon had no choice but to obey since he strode away immediately, blending into the crowd.

  When he returned, her bags were gone and he had a bunch of keys in his hand.

  "The truck is at the curb," he said, and she followed him outside to a more recent version of the pickup he'd been driving ten years earlier. Apparently he still didn't approve of cars.

  Sharon climbed into the cab when he held the door for her and sat staring straight ahead as he got in beside her, shifted gears and pulled out into the airport traffic.

  The freeways sped by as he drove efficiently, glancing over at her several times during the ride. As they were approaching the entrance to the ranch he said dryly, "Your spine will snap if you don't relax."

  "It's my spine," Sharon replied evenly.

  But she did change position as he drove up the road that wound between the corrals. She leaned forward, looking closely at everything. The redwood fencing she remembered had been replaced by expensive locust wood, and several of the ramshackle outbuildings were gone. New frame structures stood in their place, and the ranch house had been recently sided with vinyl, the trim freshly painted. The number of horses had doubled, and there was a new paddock, cut from the woods that stood to the east of the house. The whole place looked extremely prosperous. Her father had always made a comfortable living, but this was something else, and Sharon knew it was Tay's doing. He had indeed "taken hold," as her father said.