An Offer He Can't Refuse

by Theresa Ragan

  She looked toward the parking area. Her heart thumped against her ribs. Get control of yourself, Madison. Business. Think of this as business.

  “Hello.”

  Startled, she turned about and found herself looking into dark, mahogany eyes. “Hi.”

  Jackson wore a fitted moss-green suit. His silk tie had been loosened at the collar. Her gaze fell to his mouth—not too full, not too thin—perfection. She bit down on her bottom lip as she found herself wondering once again what it would be like to kiss him—if only for a second, just a slight grazing of their mouths. She cast aside the ridiculous thought. What was wrong with her? She was staring at him as if she were a love-sick teenager. His friend, Collin, definitely would have been the better choice.

  He took the seat across from her. “Are you going to order anything, or should we get right down to business?”

  “I think that would be a good idea—to get down to business.”

  They looked at one another for a long moment, each assessing the other. A little voice in her head shouted “run” but she ignored it and remained seated.

  “Okay then. If we’re going to be living together,” Jackson said matter-of-factly, “we should be up front with one another right from the start.”

  “Yes, I agree, which is why I should tell you right off,” she said, wanting to appear as cool and indifferent as he appeared to be, “that since I’m paying you, I see this thing between you and me as a business arrangement.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “If you choose to go through with my proposal, I’ll expect you to abide by my rules for the next three months.”

  He removed his jacket, placing it on the seat next to him. “What kind of rules?”

  The nerve of him taking off his clothes when she was trying so hard not to notice him. He casually rolled up his sleeves, and just as casually, she looked at the solid muscle, taut against his shirt, and the dark hair sprinkled across his forearms. Good ol’ Steve, she realized, had been as bald and skinny as a flute compared to this man. Redirecting her gaze to his face, she saw a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched her watch him. She couldn’t remember where she’d left off.

  “You were talking about rules,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she said, wishing she could hide under the table. “If we were to actually go through with this and get, ummm—”

  “Married,” he supplied generously.

  “Yes, married,” she echoed, her confidence rapidly dissolving. “I—I would expect certain rules to be followed.”

  “You said that. An example?”

  “Well—” She rubbed the back of her neck, trying desperately to remember the list of rules she’d spent all day playing over and over in her mind. “Like clothes,” she blurted.

  He arched an amused brow.

  She rolled her eyes, wondering where that rule had come from. She never really thought this finding-a-husband thing would go this far. How was she supposed to appear confident when all she could think about was pulling a napkin from the silver canister and wiping the perspiration from her forehead? “What I mean is…you would have to wear clothes at all times. You couldn’t walk around half naked while we’re living together.”

  “And what about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Can you walk around naked?”

  “Of course not.” She grabbed a napkin from the canister and dabbed it on her forehead.

  He smiled.

  A cunning dimple dented his cheek. That really irked her. The last thing the man needed was a dimple. She glanced away, frustrated that her insides were doing jumping jacks. She didn’t want to feel anything. Too bad. At the moment she was feeling a whole lot of anxiety and a strong dose of lust, all balled up into one massive pang. Jen was right. She didn’t get out enough. She felt like a caged animal that had been let loose for the first time in years.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “No!” she blurted. “I mean, no. I’m sorry. This is just so strange. Not something I go around doing every day, you know, asking strange men—”

  He lifted a brow.

  “Not that you’re strange or anything…I mean I don’t usually ask men who are strangers to be my husband.”

  “Speaking of which, why are you doing this?” he asked. “Do you need your grandfather’s money that badly?”

  Frowning, she said, “I would never do something so crazy just for money, I mean money for me…for myself.”

  His gaze remained locked on hers.

  Weird, Madison thought, how he looked as if he truly wanted to understand. Her stomach knotted. “The truth is,” she tried to explain, “I’m doing this for some kids I’ve grown attached to, kids from broken homes who have been physically and emotionally abused for most of their lives. The center they go to for guidance has recently run out of money. With Grandfather’s money, I would be able to buy the building where they go to after school and they would never again have to worry about having no place to go when they need someone to talk to. More than money, these kids need attention and love, but I only have so much of that to go around. One thing at a time.” She looked into his eyes. “What about you? Are you doing this for money or do you just get a kick out of marrying women you hardly know?”

  “As I mentioned the other day,” he said, “I have my reasons.”

  The man could be exasperating. Why, Madison wondered, did it appear his voice was lined with bitterness? Nobody was forcing him to marry her. They both had a choice in the matter.

  “Well then,” she said, trying not to worry about why he was agreeing to her arrangement. “Let’s go over the rest of the rules. You will sleep in the guest room and you must prepare your own meals. Other than sharing a place to live, meeting some of my relatives, and attending a few social functions together, I see no reason for us to have too much interaction.”

  Madison waited for him to grab his jacket, wish her luck, and run as fast as he could. But Jackson made no move to escape, so she retrieved a notepad from inside her purse and skimmed her notes. “I see here that you’re a shopping center developer for L & L.”

  He leaned forward, propped both elbows on the table and nodded. “That’s right.”

  He was peering deep into her eyes again as if he was trying to see inside her very soul. She refused to squirm. Stay calm, she told herself. Act natural. “I took the liberty of calling your workplace,” she added cheerfully. “I spoke to your boss. He was very helpful when it came to answering my questions.”

  “Is that so?”

  Madison was pretty sure she saw him flinch. “I didn’t tell him anything about the ‘situation’ if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not worried,” he said. “But thanks for your concern.”

  Liar. His whole body was tense.

  “What was the man’s name?” Jackson asked.

  He didn’t know his boss’s name? “Let me see. She adjusted her glasses so she could read her notes again. “I was actually surprised that I was able to speak with the president of L & L directly. He was very kind and, here it is, his name was Jamie.”

  Jackson did not look pleased, but she didn’t care. “Jamie,” she went on, “described you as tenacious, efficient, smart, and knowledgeable. But also a little—” She stopped, shut the notebook, and stuffed it back in her purse.

  “A little what?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s not important.” But Jackson’s stern expression told her just the opposite.

  “Boy, Jamie was right about you,” she said. “If you must know, he said you were known to be a little bullheaded at times. But he was also considerate enough to call you his number one man.”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded, happy with herself for saving money by doing the investigation on Jackson Lang herself. “Everything looks in order,” she went on. “I checked with a friend of mine at police headquarters and you have no criminal history to speak of. A few
speeding tickets…but other than that, I don’t see anything to worry about. Being that you work for L & L, I assume you make a decent living. But I must also assume, since you haven’t backed out of our deal yet, that you are having financial difficulties.”

  She reached up and anchored her hair behind her ears. She was beginning to feel much more at ease, as if she was actually in control of the situation. “I want to assure you I will be more than happy to pay for groceries and utilities. You needn’t worry about any of that. Here,” she said, handing him a new set of papers.

  He took the papers, but damn it all, his fingers brushed against the sensitive part of her palm, sending rows of tiny goose bumps up her arm.

  “They’re questions,” she said, feeling discombobulated.

  “I can see that.”

  She inwardly chastised herself for reacting to every touch and look he sent her way. Sitting up taller, she said, “If you could answer all of the questions in as much detail as possible, I’d appreciate it. That way, when people ask me about you, I’ll have answers.”

  Jackson flipped through the pages, his motions tense. Randomly, he read a few questions aloud. “Do I drink coffee?” He turned another page. “Do I have any tattoos or noticeable birth marks? What is the worst thing I’ve ever done to an animal?” He looked at her as if she were mentally unstable. “I’ve never hurt an animal in my life.”

  He snapped his fingers, causing her to jump. Then he said, “Do spiders count?”

  She forced a smile before averting her gaze.

  “Am I making you nervous?” he asked.

  “Of course not.” She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. “Are you going to order coffee, Mr. Lang?”

  “No, thanks. And call me Jackson.”

  He glanced back at the papers, giving her the opportunity to study the faint lines across his forehead and the wave of glossy black hair falling across his brow.

  “I do have a problem with one thing,” he said, setting the papers aside.

  “What’s that?”

  “It would make good business sense, being that you want this arrangement to appear on the up and up, for you to move into my home after we’re married instead of the other way around.”

  “I understand what you’re saying…I mean, that would probably be the sensible thing to do…I guess, but—”

  “There’s plenty of room,” he assured her, “and that would take care of the cooking problem since I’m sure Chris wouldn’t mind cooking for one more.”

  “Chris? Your girlfriend?”

  He actually grinned. “Chris is a man. You’ll like him.”

  Madison nearly fell out of her chair.

  Jackson was gay!

  She put a hand to her chest. For the first time in fifteen minutes, no, make that days, she took a breath…a long deep breath. “I—I think you’re absolutely right,” she said with too much enthusiasm. “What a fantastic idea. Having Chris there will make everything easier.”

  She smiled, the kind of smile reserved for really great stuff—like winning the lottery. The man was gay. Which explained why Jackson had acted so mysterious. He needed a different image at work. That’s why he was doing this. She couldn’t have planned it any better if she had tried. Mr. Mysterious wasn’t such a mystery after all. The next three months would be like living with a couple of girlfriends. “So tell me about Chris,” she said excitedly. “He enjoys cooking?”

  “That’s pretty much what he does.”

  “You mean he’s a chef?” A hundred pounds of worry floated right off of her shoulders. “What restaurant does he work for?”

  “He only cooks for me.”

  “Oh, I see.” Evidently, poor ol’ Chris had the raw end of the deal.

  “I’m glad you agree,” Jackson said. “Now, about the wedding. Under the circumstances, I feel a quick ceremony without fanfare would be best.”

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed. “I hadn’t given it much thought, but that sounds good to me. Little fanfare.” She waved a hand through the air. “Heck, no fanfare!” She couldn’t stop grinning.

  “Mind telling me what you suddenly find so damned amusing?”

  Giddiness threatened to consume her. “It’s just that I’ve had this terrible headache for days. But all of a sudden it just sort of went ‘poof.’” She swept her hand through the air. “It just disappeared.” She leaned back, relaxed. “By the way, did you get a chance to do any research on me?”

  He nodded. “Like your friend said, you’re as clean as a whistle.”

  That statement wiped the smile right off her face. She was as clean as a whistle and as boring as an old tree stump. She sighed. The meeting had worn her out. Madison pushed her chair from the table and stood. “Let me know if you have a problem with any of those questions,” she said. Then she gestured toward the back of the café. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

  She walked to the back of the Café and made a left into a darkened alcove. Now that she was out of view, she leaned against the cool wall and closed her eyes. She didn’t need to use the restroom, she just needed a few moments to herself. She had been hoping to find a nice, gentle sort of man—someone safe like Jackson. Everything was working out perfect. “He may be self-assured and too darn good-looking,” she said aloud, “but he’s—”

  “Excuse me,” Jackson said, appearing out of nowhere.

  Her face felt as if it were on fire, as if she were in high school and had been caught cheating on a test or making out with a boy in the hallway. Dream on. She’d hardly kissed any boys at all…not until Steve. She had thought Steve truly loved her, too. He’d been a patient man, and she always felt safe with him, even after he convinced her that sleeping with him was the only way she could prove her love for him. And so they made love…and shortly afterward he left her.

  Returning to the matter at hand, Madison unglued herself from the wall and looked at Jackson, wondering why he’d followed her. She tried to walk back to the main section of the coffee shop, but Jackson stood in her way. “You’re done looking over the questions?” she asked him.

  “Plenty of time for that later. I could tell that you were upset. The restrooms are on the other side of the building. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  There was something about the look in his eye that made her uneasy.

  He took a step toward her; a hawk hovering over his prey before swooping down for the kill. At such close range, she couldn’t help but notice the strong cords of his neck. The earthy scent of him tickled her nose. Instinct caused her to take a step back. Once again she had her back to the wall.

  “I think you should know that I think we’ll get along just fine,” he said, taking another step forward so that she was trapped between his chest and the wall.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m g-glad.”

  ~~~

  Jackson moved closer.

  She sure could play the innocent, he thought, enjoying the fact that he was making her squirm. She managed to play the demure, bashful young lady as if she’d been rehearsing for the part all of her life. But she looked scared, too. Of what? She was the one who came up with this harebrained idea. He just happened to be the unlucky guy who had managed to get himself caught right smack in the middle of it all. If only she knew why he was really here—because her cousin, Heather, had asked him to marry her only so he could pull out at the last moment and stop Madison from getting her greedy hands on money that didn’t belong to her. What would Madison do if he told her he knew exactly what she was up to—that he knew she was trying to swindle them all?

  If he told her everything, maybe she’d drop the innocent act. He’d see her true colors then, wouldn’t he? And then she’d find some other poor foolish sap to marry her. This marriage proposal of hers had nothing to do with neglected children and that’s what really ticked him off.

  If Madison wanted to play games, Jackson decided, he was going to make sure he won the first set.

  She wanted rules. We
ll, good. Rules were made to be broken. And he aimed to make that perfectly clear right from the start. He wasn’t fond of being forced into anything—especially marriage—and although his predicament wasn’t entirely her fault, she was the pawn in the game—the one who made the first move, but not necessarily the one who would make the last. He didn’t want to be standing here anymore than he wanted to dive off a cliff. But here he was, and he didn’t like the frightened little girl look in her big doll-face eyes when she looked at him, or the way her bottom lip kept getting caught between her straight white teeth. He especially didn’t like the fact that he was attracted to her. Since when had bespectacled, no-frills women in overalls caused him to take notice?

  “I like you,” he said as he watched her crystal-blue eyes grow bigger. “You’ve got gumption. And you have pretty eyes, too.”

  He slid the glasses from her face. Using his free hand, he tilted her chin upward so she had no choice but to look at him, really look at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to hide,” he said, “but it’s not working. You can’t hide eyes like those.”

  She grabbed her glasses from him, slid them over the bridge of her nose and pushed away from him so she could march back to their table.

  He followed her. There was no way he was going to make this easy on her. He didn’t believe the disadvantaged-kid story any more than he believed she was the shy, innocent woman she pretended to be.

  The easy sway of her hips beneath soft denim mesmerized him as he followed after her. Today her hair hung loose about her shoulders and back. Long silken dark hair that made his fingers itch to touch it—see if the silky strands felt as soft as they looked.

  He shook his head at how easily she caused him to lose his concentration. If she was determined to go through with this charade, the two of them would be married. And then he would have plenty of time to teach Mrs. Madison Lang a lesson she would not soon forget.

  ~~~