Mia Like Crazy

by Cordoba, Nina

  I pressed the “copy” button and placed it in the file with the childhood pictures.

  I spent the night in my hotel room in fitful sleep, dreaming of the boy in the photos, but instead of reflecting the expression most of them held, every picture was pleading with me.

  Gradually, the boy’s face morphed into that of a man’s, close enough to touch, but when I reached up toward him, I realized a glass separated us.

  He smiled and his eyes grew kind as I stared into them. He opened his mouth—I was certain, to whisper my name. But instead, I heard “Medina” spoken in a sharp, sarcastic tone and awakened, only to fall back to sleep and repeat the same disturbing dream.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, I wondered how early I should be at work, but didn’t call for fear Drew would tell me not to come at all, so I knocked on his door at a respectable nine o’clock. A few seconds later, the door opened.

  “Are you in the habit of harassing all your clients so early in the morning?” he asked without a hint of humor. It appeared he’d been up for hours, freshly showered and clean-shaven in his black suit with a white dress shirt, open at the top. In fact, he looked exactly as he had the day before. I wondered if he had an entire closet full of nothing but black and white.

  Despite the statement, he stood back so I could walk in. He closed the door and turned toward me.

  “Did you go to the library?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you read the clippings?”

  “I did.”

  “And you came.”

  It sounded like more of a statement than a question, so I didn’t say anything. His gaze went to the window on the other side of the room.

  A moment later, he turned back toward me, looked directly into my eyes and asked, “Are you nuts, too?”

  “It’s not an impossibility,” I replied. “Would I know for sure if I were?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up, and a warm feeling flooded through me because I knew I was the cause of it. “That’s a good question.”

  He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for me—a move I guessed might be uncharacteristically gallant for him.

  I sat down in front of the file, which was in the same place it had been yesterday. Wondering if the notepad was still underneath, I felt for it, but it was gone.

  We sat for much of the morning, with me asking him questions, looking for the easiest way to get around the various conditions of the will. Had Meridith ever said anything about their father’s frame of mind during his last years? Who else spent a lot of time with Herbert Vaughn? Did he have doctors, psychiatrists?

  Each time Drew answered, he did little more than glance at me, then he’d focus on the window as he spoke.

  By eleven, I was beginning to get embarrassed about the rumbling sounds my stomach was making, since I’d been too nervous to eat breakfast. A few minutes later, he asked if I wanted something from the deli down the street, and I was grateful when they delivered it right away.

  We ate in what felt like companionable silence, but when I finished my smoked turkey breast sandwich, I felt I had to try to simplify his very complicated life.

  “There’s all kinds of legal maneuvering possible with this will, but I think you need to consider the possibility of getting a wi—”

  “Are you gonna eat that?” He gestured toward the dill pickle, which had accompanied my sandwich. “I don’t understand why it only comes with turkey. I don’t like turkey, but I like pickles.”

  “Yes. I mean, no, I’m not going to eat it. Help yourself. Anyway, I was saying—”

  “Do you want anything else? Coffee, or more water, or tea?”

  I had a feeling he knew where I was going with this and I was irritated by his stall tactics. “No, I’m fine. I was trying to tell you that the legal wrangling could take years. All kinds of things can happen while the will is being contested and it may be big news. Other ‘heirs’ could come out of the woodwork. You need to give some more thought to getting marr—”

  “Medina, you’ve worked hard enough this morning. Why don’t you take a long lunch break and go to a spa or something. You seem tense.”

  “I wouldn’t be tense if you’d let me finish a sentence.” I realized my tone would have been way over the line with any normal millionaire client, but I already felt a surprising familiarity with him.

  Besides, I knew I’d gotten my point across when he casually zipped his mouth and threw away the key. I tried to ignore this childish gesture and move on. “As I was saying, it would be so much faster and easier to find a wife and live with her for six months.”

  Although there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his face, I was sure I saw a playful spark in his eye when he answered. “That’s impossible. The only woman in this town who considers me marriage material is my sister, and I think the courts frown on that, although it would be nice to keep the money in the family.”

  I wasn’t about to let him brush this off so easily. “There must be someone—a friend, maybe?”

  His expression changed and I felt as if a storm had blown in. “Haven’t you figured out I don’t have friends?” he said angrily. “I’m sure Meridith used her little island analogy on you.”

  I ignored the tone. My crafty lawyer’s brain knew there was more than one way to skin a cat, or in this case, a wife. “What about a cash deal? Offer someone a couple million in a pre-nuptial agreement. It’s standard, anyway, for wealthy people to have a pre-nup.”

  “But she’d have to live here with me for six months. Do you really think a couple million is enough for a woman who’d be expecting to be abused every day for six months?” Drew asked skeptically.

  “People kill for a lot less.”

  “Yeah, but are they willing to die for it?”

  “I think you’re over-dramatizing this situation,” I said. “You’re not that scary. I’d say two million, tops, would get you a perfectly good wife.”

  He folded his empty sandwich wrapper into a neat square. “Would you do it for two million dollars?” He sounded doubtful about the amount of money.

  “Sure. Money like that would solve all my problems.” A second later I realized I’d walked into a trap.

  “Okay. It’s a deal. Vegas would be the quickest way—you think it needs to be a church wedding?”

  “Wait, Drew, I didn’t mean to volunteer for the job.”

  “Why not? You said you weren’t afraid of me. You said the money would solve all your problems.”

  “I can’t. I’m your lawyer. It’s unethical. I could lose my license.”

  “With two million you wouldn’t have to worry about your license, and you would instantly solve most of my legal problems. I have a great guest bedroom, thanks to Meridith—I don’t know who she was expecting to stay in it—plus I have a room that would be a perfect office for you. It’s a big apartment. You wouldn’t be in my way.”

  “In your way? What do you do that I could get in the way of?” I was buying time to figure my own way out of this, but he was distracting me with what felt like boyish enthusiasm.

  The doorbell rang, and, a few seconds later, Meridith breezed in.

  “Guess what, Sis, Medina and I are getting married,” Drew said. “Cool, huh?”

  I wondered how he was able to sound both enthusiastic and sarcastic, simultaneously. I expected Meridith to step in as the voice of reason at this point, but I was dead wrong.

  “Oh, Mia, how wonderful! I know you’ll make Drew very happy.” Meridith was acting like this was for real, as though Drew and I had been dating for months and it was expected.

  She sat down at the table and cheerfully asked, “So, do you want a big church wedding, or something smaller?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” I said dryly. This was ridiculous…wasn’t it?

  “Well, Sis, Mia doesn’t have any family here, and I’m, you know, Satan—”

  “I wish you would quit saying that,” Meridith interrupted.

&
nbsp; “What I meant was, I think a church wedding is out,” Drew finished logically.

  I was annoyed that these two kooks thought they could swoop in and take control of my life, which had been completely self-managed up until this point.

  I wadded up my wrapper and shoved it into the brown bag it came in. “I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, but I didn’t consent to any kind of wedding.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just a technicality.”

  Panic suddenly overwhelmed me. Why had I agreed to come back here in the first place? Why did I still not want to leave? But I needed to get away and think.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said. “This whole conversation is ridiculous.” For a second there, I’d actually wanted to go along with this scheme, and the scary part was it might not have been because of the money.

  Drew followed me outside into the hall, and said, in a hushed voice, “Three million and all expenses paid while you’re living here.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to the punch, “and anything else you want.”

  I was stunned by those last words. Never in my life had someone told me I could have anything I wanted. That was for people who were lucky, privileged, protected.

  Drew was only inches away as he waited for my answer. His hypnotic gaze was dragging me inside him. I had the urge to reach out and touch him.

  No, he didn’t really offer that.

  But his chest was rising and falling as if he’d been running, and he looked so hopeful. Could he look at me like this if it was only about the money?

  It hit me that I’d been lying to myself and everyone else, my entire life. I was always spouting off about how I wanted to be self-sufficient and didn’t need anyone. Yet, this man I hardly knew had looked into my eyes and offered to take care of me, and I was undone.

  Anything you want.

  I remembered how badly I’d wanted my mother—or mostly absentee father—to say words like that to me. It wasn’t because I wanted so very many things. I just wanted to feel like someone valued me enough to say it once, in a toy store, at the grocery store…

  I noticed they’d always managed to come up with enough money for drugs, but couldn’t afford so much as a candy bar when I asked.

  And now that I’d convinced myself I didn’t need to be taken care of, and wouldn’t accept it anyway, here was this handsome—though possibly crazy—man, making me an offer that felt like it was about so much more than money.

  His look was too intense now. He was only inches away, but his hands were shoved into his pants pockets. I knew that if he would only reach out and touch me, I’d say “yes” to anything he asked.

  I felt tears gathering behind my eyes. I had to go. No one had seen me cry since my dad left when I was seven years old. So, why now?

  “I’ll let you know,” I choked out before I fled down the hallway.

  Safely in the elevator, I marveled at how close I’d come to agreeing to marry Drew Larson—on impulse. I didn’t remember doing anything impulsively since I was a small child.

  Mia Medina always had a plan. It was well thought out—often years in advance, and it was safe and logical. But I’d never met a man before who could look into my eyes and make me want to say “yes,” just like that.

  I thought of my mother and was frightened to the core, thinking I might be just like her after all.

  Chapter Five

  It was another terrible night. There were more disturbing dreams full of newspaper articles and eyes, and several times when I awoke, I wondered if I was coming down with something.

  By eight the next morning, I was in absolute misery. It was only the third migraine I’d ever had, and I was sure I’d brought it on myself, but it didn’t matter at this point because the pain was excruciating and when I tried to get up, the nausea and dizziness prevented it.

  At five after nine, the phone rang. When I managed a weak “Hello,” I heard Drew’s voice on the other end of the phone.

  “You didn’t report for work this morning.”

  “No,” I said weakly. “I have a migraine.”

  “I thought you were supposed to get the headaches after the wedding.” When he got no response, he continued, “You can say ‘no,’ you don’t have to hide out in your hotel roo—”

  “Drew,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “I have a migraine. I can’t get out of bed.”

  His voice became very serious. “Do you have any medicine with you?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be right over with some.”

  I stared at the clock on the nightstand, thinking how ironic it was that I was waiting anxiously for “Son of Satan” to come to my hotel room. I hated being so helpless, but I hated the agonizing pain even more.

  Fifteen minutes after we spoke, my door was flung open by the manager. When he saw me, he started to apologize. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He said someone was dying in here.”

  “He was right,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah, thanks for your help. Now, get out.” Drew stepped inside and began closing the door on the distressed man.

  “Uh, ma’am? Are you gonna be all right?” The last few words were muffled because Drew had already slammed the door in his face.

  He flipped on the light, and the agony in my skull spiked to unbearable. He strode across the room to my bed. After he pulled a bottle out of his coat pocket, he poured water from it into a hotel glass.

  “Here, take these.” There were two pills in the palm of his hand.

  I tried to muster the strength to sit up. Through my half-opened eyes, I saw him scanning the room as he waited, his gaze pausing briefly on the lacy white bra I’d carelessly cast off the previous night. His expression didn’t give away any particular interest, though, which might have bothered me more if I wasn’t so overwhelmed by the pain.

  “Where did you get that?” I waved a shaky finger toward his hand.

  “I called and had Meridith’s housekeeper meet me over here with it. It’s real migraine medicine,” he assured me. “Meri’s got pills for everything over there.”

  Not one to be picky about prescriptions when I was at death’s door, I pulled myself up and grabbed the tablets and glass of water out of his hands. I gulped them down and sank back onto my pillow.

  “Come on. Get up,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

  “No, I can’t work this morning. Maybe later,” I murmured.

  “You do think I’m evil.” He sounded like it was no big deal if I did. “I’m taking you to my place to recuperate.”

  “I’m fine here.”

  “In this dive? You’ll get eaten by cockroaches.”

  “It’s not a dive—and what’s this obsession with cockroaches?” I turned away from him and pulled the blanket over my head to block out the sixty-watt light bulb now burning through my eyelids.

  The covers were suddenly gone and the shock of the cool air on my skin made my whole body tense. I turned over and looked at Drew, who was bunching up the bedspread and throwing it into the corner, followed by the blanket and top sheet.

  “Are you crazy?” I asked.

  “Duh,” he said almost comically. “I thought you’d read the papers.” He moved back over to stand next to the bed. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You need someone to take care of you. You only know two people in this town, and the other one is in some board meeting for the day.”

  “You’ve done your duty. You gave me the medicine.” I pulled my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs for warmth. “Now, go home.”

  “If these pills don’t work, I’m supposed to give you another one in an hour and I’m not staying here. Get up.”

  “I can take care of myself. I just need some rest.” The nausea had dissipated again, and I didn’t want to move.

  He let out a loud breath. Through half-closed eyelids, I saw him pace around the room, He grabbed my sheer robe, which was practically wadd
ed in a ball on the dresser.

  “Not much of a housekeeper, are you? Here put this on.”

  At least the robe would cover my goose-bumped limbs. I took it from him, propped myself up with one arm and began struggling into it. After a few long seconds, he reached over and helped me pull the other sleeve over my arm.

  I collapsed back onto the bed, but to my surprise, he bent down, scooped me up, and snatched the pill bottle from the bedside table in one fluid movement.

  I didn’t have any fight left in me. I wanted him to take me to a warm—hopefully more comfortable—bed, and nurse me back to health.

  Drew headed out the door and deposited me into a black sports car. After a short, silent ride, he placed me gently on my feet next to a plush bed with a velvety comforter and expensive-looking throw pillows. He raked the pillows onto the floor and yanked back the covers, then helped me into bed and covered me up to my chin.

  “Is it still hurting?” he asked, in a business-like tone.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “In fifteen minutes, I can give you another one. I’ll go get the water.”

  Soon he was helping me sit up so I could take another pill. I lay back down and drifted off into a restful sleep for the first time in several days.

  ~

  When my lids fluttered, I found myself looking directly into the eyes that had been haunting my dreams for the past two nights, except this time they were real.

  Drew was leaning forward on his knees with his chin propped in his hands, looking more boyish than he did in any of his childhood pictures. He was only a few inches away.

  Knowing a man like him had been watching me while I slept should have been disconcerting or downright frightening, but it wasn’t. In fact, I found his presence oddly comforting.

  Although the fact that he was making serious eye contact caused a pleasant warming sensation, I felt I needed to break the hypnotic effect of his stare.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “About three.”

  “Have you been here the whole time?”