“I needed the tips.”
“You were a hairstylist, a dog sitter, and now you’re an accountant for Castle and Klein.”
“A senior accountant. And I watched one dog.”
“Finally,” he said, “after dating some scrawny guy named Steve for too many years, you’ve sworn off men, but you’re willing to sacrifice yourself and marry me, all because you want to help some kids.”
There was a moment’s silence. She was at a loss of words. She pointed a finger at him. “Those things were not mentioned in my—how did you—”
“I have my ways.”
She shook that same finger at him. “Jen. You talked to Jen, didn’t you? She said I couldn’t hold a tune?”
His smug expression told her she was right.
“Well,” she said in a self-satisfied tone, “I know a few things about you, too, Mr. Lang.”
“If we’re going to convince Mr. Razzano that we’re in love, don’t you think we should be on a first name basis?”
She snorted. “Do you want to know what I know, or not?”
“Do I have a choice?”
She didn’t know diddly about him, but she wasn’t going to let him figure that out. “I did some additional research of my own, and guess what Mr.—I mean, Jackson? I know that you’re hiding something…something big, really big.”
She stared at him, waiting for a twitch of an eyebrow, any indication at all that would tell her she’d struck a nerve. Yeah, sure, she was nearsighted and needed new glasses, but she’d have to be blind not to see that those dark eyes of his were growing darker by the minute. “Ah-ha! You are hiding something,” she said. “But it doesn’t really matter. You want to know why?”
He turned up the music a notch.
“Because within ten minutes of meeting you, I knew all there was to know about you. You’re arrogant. You’re mulish, and worst of all, you’re just plain mean.”
She got a raised brow out of that declaration.
Let him chew on that for the rest of the day.
~~~
Mr. Razzano, a tall, thin man with a bald, pointy head, sifted through another file.
Jackson glanced at his watch. The man had been rambling on for twenty minutes. As executor of the trust fund, it was Mr. Razzano’s responsibility to determine whether he and Madison were truly in love. After three months, if Mr. Razzano believed everybody was on the up and up, he could distribute the money accordingly. Which meant the man would be shadowing their every move until Heather gave Jackson the go ahead to pull out of the marriage for good.
“I’m going to direct my questions to Jackson first,” Mr. Razzano said, “and then to you, Ms. Brown. Let’s see—”
Madison leaned forward to take a peek at the papers littering his desk, prompting Mr. Razzano to slide the papers farther away. The office was small and stuffy. There was one window in the place and the blinds were closed tight, shutting out all natural light.
Twiddling his thumbs, Jackson tried not to think about all the work he had waiting for him at the office. He worked many weekends, too. It kept him busy, and besides, he enjoyed his work. Sheila had called him a workaholic more than once, but he wasn’t sure he agreed. Despite the long hours he spent at the office, he made time for exercise.
Jackson watched Madison finally give up trying to see Razzano’s papers. She sat back in her chair with a sigh. Jackson draped an arm around the back of her seat and let his fingers settle on her shoulder.
He felt her flinch.
Sliding his thumb back and forth, he felt her body stiffen. Suddenly he found himself enjoying the very meeting he’d dreaded for days.
“Where did you first meet?” Mr. Razzano asked after taking his time organizing his files.
“At a sushi bar on Fifth Street,” Jackson answered, wondering how that could be in any way relevant.
Madison’s anxiety was palpable. She gave Jackson a wide-eyed look, patted his leg and said, “No, honey, it was at CFC, where I volunteer.”
Mr. Razzano narrowed his eyes. “Please, Ms. Brown, let your fiancé answer the questions, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “But I think it’s important for you to know that our first meeting was more of a glimpse rather than a shake hands, how-do-you-do type of thing. That’s why he’s having a hard time remembering the exact moment we fell in love. I swear it was love at first sight. At least it was for me.”
“I only need to know where you met, not how,” Mr. Razzano said, beyond irritated.
With feigned innocence, she looked at Jackson, frustrating Mr. Razzano all the more when she added, “When I first laid eyes on Jackson, he was consoling a small boy who’d skinned his knee. My heart started doing this wild pitter-patter thing.” Madison put a hand to her chest. “It was as if the child was Jackson’s very own. Well, as you can imagine, my heart melted right then and there.”
Mr. Razzano looked to Jackson for help, but Jackson was actually enjoying the ridiculous act she was putting on so he merely shrugged, listening attentively as Madison described every detail of their first meeting. By the time she was done, even Jackson was convinced their very first meeting had happened just that way. He couldn’t help but smile at all the animated expressions and hand gestures she made as she told her story.
If Mr. Razzano had any hair on his head, he would’ve pulled it out. Instead he asked Jackson, “Have you ever been married before?”
Madison opened her mouth, causing Mr. Razzano to growl.
She clamped her mouth shut.
“No,” Jackson said. Madison smiled at him as if he were a child who’d just received one hundred percent on his first math test.
“Where do you plan to live after you’re married?”
Madison raised her hand. “We were going to live at my place but after—”
“Ms. Brown. If you can’t wait your turn, I’m going to have to ask you to step into the other room until I’m finished with Mr. Lang.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Madison made a zipping motion over her mouth. “I promise. Not another word.”
Jackson gave her a tight smile. She was nervous, and he even found himself feeling sorry for her. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “That’s what I love about her,” Jackson told Mr. Razzano. “When she gets nervous, she just can’t keep her cute little mouth shut for very long.”
She stiffened.
The door to Mr. Razzano’s office opened. A petite, gray-haired woman with a pencil tucked behind her ear stuck her head inside the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Helen Appleworth is here to pick up the papers you have for her.”
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Mr. Razzano stood. He glanced from Madison to the file on his desk and opted to take the folder with him.
The moment the door clicked shut, Madison turned to Jackson. “I can’t believe you accused me of not being able to keep my mouth shut. And that man,” she said, redirecting her anger. “For some reason he doesn’t like me.”
Jackson gave her an incredulous look. “How could that be?”
“I’m serious.”
“It doesn’t matter if he likes you, or not,” Jackson said. “It only matters that he believes you.”
“But why doesn’t he like me?” she asked.
“I can’t begin to imagine.”
“You’re mocking me.”
Jackson was about to protest when she continued instead.
“What did I do to him? I’ve been cooperative, polite, I—”
Jackson had heard enough. He was worn out and cranky—tired of looking at her mouth. He reached over and pulled her chair closer so that he could stop her rambling with a kiss. His tongue grazed hers, prompting her to sample him, too. The taste of her reminded him of the sweet flesh of honeydew. Her lips were soft and pliable. He curved his hand beneath her silky hair and around the soft nape of her neck. Kissing her intoxicated him somehow, made him feel powerful and powerless at the same time.
&n
bsp; Mr. Razzano cleared his throat, announcing his return.
Jackson drew away, smiling at Madison when she opened her eyes, looking as if she were awaking from a deep sleep. Her cheeks flushed when she realized they had an audience.
“Sorry about the interruption,” Mr. Razzano said, flustered by their behavior. “Now where was I? Oh, yes, question number three. Have the two of you become intimate?”
“Excuse me?” Jackson asked.
Mr. Razzano’s face reddened. “We need to know these things…”
Jackson tried to remain cool, but it wasn’t easy. He sat up straight and tall, and then leaned over Mr. Razzano’s desk, prompting the man to lean backward. “I don’t know what’s going on here exactly,” Jackson stated firmly, “but our sex life is none of your business.”
“I-I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Mr. Lang, but as you can see,” he said, holding up a large file, “I have a list of questions I’m required to ask before I can determine if this relationship is genuine.”
“Who makes up those ridiculous questions?”
“We have a committee that deliberates long hours to come up with specialized questions for each individual case.”
Jackson shot him a dubious look. “It took your committee hours to come up with ‘have we had sex?’”
The man’s face paled.
“Our sex life is none of your business. We’re in love and we’re getting married. What else do you need to know?”
Mr. Razzano blinked excessively. “Well, I—uh—”
Madison touched Jackson’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “This man owes you an apology.”
“He does?”
“Yes, he does.” Jackson stood, towering over Mr. Razzano. “Apologize to my fiancée right now for making her feel badly.”
Madison gave Mr. Razzano a meek, apologetic smile when he looked at her. “He doesn’t have to—”
“Yes, he does,” Jackson said firmly. “The man was rude. He’s getting paid to make sure your grandfather’s money is properly distributed. The least he can do is treat you with respect.” Jackson turned back to Mr. Razzano. “You hurt her feelings. She doesn’t think you like her. Tell her that you do.”
The man cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Madison. “You appear to be a nice young lady—”
Jackson narrowed his eyes.
“I like you, Ms. Brown,” Mr. Razzano said, his voice floundering. “I like you very much.”
“There,” Jackson said, taking his seat again. “Was that so hard?”
Mr. Razzano sunk lower into his chair.
Madison managed a thin smile.
“Okay then. I’m ready to answer some questions,” Jackson said, rubbing his hands together. He looked at Madison. “How about you?”
~~~
Jackson climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out onto the road.
Slinking into the leather seat of Jackson’s expensive car, Madison groaned. “That definitely did not go as I’d hoped.”
“Well, it’s never easy to lie,” Jackson said.
“A few harmless falsehoods,” she argued, gazing at him, remembering how he’d stood up for her and made Mr. Razzano apologize. She’d felt bad for the man, but at the same time, she’d also felt incredibly protected. It was a nice feeling. And then there was the kiss…better than the first time. Much better. A prickly sense of excitement swept through her at the thought that he would soon be her husband. By the end of the week, she would be Mrs. Madison Lang.
Her heart pounded against her chest. She was falling for the man.
How could that be? That wouldn’t do.
She had to stay focused, remember why this could never work. He preferred men, she had to remind herself. And then she recalled one of the things Jackson had said in Mr. Razzano’s office, and said, “Little critters?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“When Mr. Razzano asked if we planned to have children, you referred to them as little critters.”
“That’s what they are…damnable puppy dogs.”
“Maybe we should have talked about this sooner,” she muttered.
He took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a bewildered look. “What difference would it have made? You’re not getting any hopeful fantasies about this whole marriage business becoming permanent, are you?”
“Of course not,” she said, ignoring the twinge in her heart. “I’m just not crazy about the idea of being married to a man who refers to children as critters.”
“Well, you should’ve stuck that one in your long list of rules and regulations.”
“I thought I did.”
“Wasn’t in there.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you certainly overdid the whole lovey-dovey business, wouldn’t you say? And then telling Mr. Razzano that you got that black eye because of me. Crazy talk.” She huffed. “You and that Archer guy had it in for each other. It had nothing to do with me.”
“True, Archer isn’t high on my list of people to have lunch with, but the man was groping you, for God’s sake. Maybe you were enjoying his attention, though. Next time I’ll be sure to mind my own business.”
“The man touched my waist, for Pete’s sake, and I don’t know why you would even care, unless you were—”
“Were what?” he asked.
Her eyes grew wide. “Unless you were jealous.” A part of her knew it was crazy to even entertain the idea, but it made sense. For the life of her she couldn’t imagine why he’d gone off on Archer as he did unless he’d been jealous.
“The truth is I didn’t appreciate the way it looked—my fiancée dancing with the man, letting him slide his hands all over her in full view of everyone at the ball. It was downright humiliating.”
She blew air out through her nose. “That’s ridiculous.” She looked out the window and then quickly snapped her head back his way. “I spent a lot of time getting dressed up for that ball. And for what? To have you ignore me? Granted, we aren’t the least bit attracted to one another—”
“True.”
“—nor would we have met if I hadn’t proposed—” She stopped in mid-sentence. “What’s true?”
“The part about the two of us not being attracted to each other.”
“I’m not your type? Is that what you mean? I’m not good enough for you?”
The frown lines on his forehead deepened. “This isn’t going to turn into one of those question-answer sessions, is it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know,” Jackson said, “the sort of thing where you ask me if I think you’re fat, and no matter what I answer I end up being the bad guy?”
There was a long pause. His preference for men over women should have been enough reason for her not to worry about her feelings for him getting out of control…but, he didn’t act gay, and that confused her.
She tried to focus on the scenery outside but it was impossible. “If you’re not attracted to me, why do you keep kissing me?”
“Because the truth is, I am attracted to you—every bit of you. Your long black hair makes my palms itch to touch it,” he said in a gruff manner, as if the mere thought of her hair angered him. “Your blue eyes remind me of endless oceans, and your lips were made for kissing.”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
Jackson kept his eyes on the road. “I wasn’t being sarcastic. But now that we’re on the subject,” he added, “you asked me to do all I could to make Mr. Razzano believe I was in love with you. That’s exactly what I did. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t enjoy one minute of it.”
“Well, neither did I,” she said. “And I didn’t appreciate your use of tongue. It was completely unnecessary.”
The sensuous corners of his mouth curved upward. “You sure didn’t seem to mind at the time. And if I recall correctly, I don’t believe I was the only one using tongue.”
He was right. She’d melted in his arms, like ice cream on a summer day.
“When I heard Mr. Razzano coming down the hall,” Jackson continued, “I saw it as an opportunity—a chance to make him think we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other while he was gone. And once again, I don’t remember you complaining about that when you kissed me in the coffee shop last week.”
“When I kissed you?” She clamped her mouth shut. Arguing with him was getting them nowhere. Madison gazed out the window and watched the trees and houses go by in a blur. “I guess you realize we need to get married in the next few days,” she said, her voice calm as she talked about her wedding as if it were a barbecue.
He didn’t respond and she couldn’t help but feel a little sad about the idea of living a lie for the next three months. She thought about what Jackson had said earlier about her fantasy of having kids and a house with a white picket fence. She hadn’t realized it until he’d said it, but he was right. Deep down, she did want all of that someday. And a few times since meeting Jackson, she’d found herself hoping for a miracle—a little divine intervention that would cause him to look at her in a way that would make bells ring—a look that would tell her that all things happened for a reason—even marriage to a stranger.
Twenty minutes later, his sleek car pulled into her driveway. Jackson didn’t bother turning off the engine. He looked at her and said in a quiet voice, “About the wedding. If it’s okay with you, my brother said he’d take care of the entire event—a modest affair at his place this weekend. He promised to keep it small. Will Sunday at noon work for you?”
She nodded. “I have a few relatives I need to invite, but you can count them on one hand.”
Jackson climbed out of the car and came around to the other side and opened her door. “I’ll call you tomorrow with directions.”
“Thanks for coming today.” Once again she noticed his injured eye. The bruise had turned a new shade of purple. “You better get some ice on that. Does it hurt much?”
“Not as much as my pride.”
She rested her gaze on his sensual mouth. “I know the next three months aren’t going to be easy—complete opposites thrown together like this.”
An Offer He Can't Refuse Page 7
