A Contract Seduction (Southern Secrets Series Book 2)

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A Contract Seduction (Southern Secrets Series Book 2) Page 9

by Janice Maynard


  When she explained Jonathan’s illness, Rebekah looked stricken. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s more,” Lisette said. “He wants to keep the news under wraps as long as possible so the company stock won’t be affected.”

  Rebekah nodded. “That makes sense. And you’re his assistant, so you’ll have to be in the know.” She paused, frowning. “But why me? What do I have to do with anything?”

  Lisette chewed the inside of her lip until she tasted the tang of blood. “You thought I was acting weird and selfish, and rightly so. You’re my best friend. I needed you to know so that our relationship wouldn’t be in danger.”

  “But there’s more, surely. I signed my life away a moment ago. What’s it all about?”

  Lisette couldn’t sit still any longer. The lawyer’s personal office was spacious and beautifully decorated, but there wasn’t much room to pace. Lisette was shaky and tense. Saying these things out loud made her decision seem more real, more radically dangerous.

  “Jonathan has asked me to marry him,” she said slowly. “So that when his condition begins to deteriorate, I can make decisions and step in as his proxy.”

  Rebekah’s expression intensified every one of Lisette’s doubts. Her friend looked either incredibly shocked or horrified, or maybe a mixture of both. “That’s insane,” she said. “He can’t ask that of you. It’s too much.”

  “Well, he did,” Lisette muttered. She had never breathed a word about her crush on her boss. As far as Rebekah knew, Jonathan was nothing more than an employer. “He’ll be going through hell, Rebekah. I can’t stand by and watch him suffer if I can help.”

  “What about his family?”

  “They’ll be supportive, of course. But because of my position, I’m uniquely suited to help him run Tarleton Shipping. The fiction of our wedding will deflect any grumblings about why I’m being given so much latitude in decision-making.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Rebekah said, her gaze troubled. “It sounds like he’s taking advantage of you. It’s not fair.”

  If there was ever a time for truth, it was now. “I care about him, Rebekah.”

  “As a human being, you mean?”

  “As a man. I love him. No matter how hard this is, I want to be with him for however long he has left.”

  Nine

  Lisette’s life became both easier and harder in the hours that followed. Easier, in that Rebekah was now her confidante, her sounding board. Harder, because the plan that had been set into motion accelerated rapidly.

  Rebekah was tucked into a cab to return to the office without them. Lisette and Jonathan went to the courthouse for the marriage license.

  Producing a photo ID and watching Jonathan hand over cash for the fee was certainly not romantic under the circumstances. Lisette felt the noose of inevitability tighten around her neck.

  Any woman would want to marry a man like Jonathan. But the speed and the matter-of-fact way he was ticking off items on his list was a little too clinical for Lisette’s taste. She wanted to be more to him than a convenience.

  As she penned her name alongside his, her hand shook. The wet ink smudged, making her handwriting almost illegible. “Do we need to start over?” she asked the clerk.

  The young woman shook her head. “Nope. It’s still legal. That’s all that matters.”

  Outside on the courthouse steps, Lisette paused to pull her sunglasses from her purse. The day was bright and sunny, but mostly she wanted to be able to hide behind them. With each moment that passed, she was becoming more and more aware of her handsome fiancé.

  “Are we going to grab lunch?” she asked. “I’m starving. I was too nervous about Rebekah and the lawyer to eat breakfast.”

  Jonathan grimaced. “I’d love to, but I have a meeting. I can drop you at the office, though.”

  His gaze was trained on the throngs of tourists passing by on the street. Charleston was a popular vacation spot.

  Once again his habitually aloof mask was firmly in place.

  Lisette’s heart sank. Was this how it was going to be between them? Cold and distant whenever he couldn’t handle the emotional aspects of the situation? Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to be near him. “I’ll walk,” she said curtly.

  She took off down the steps at a breakneck pace, considering the fact that she was wearing heels. Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away angrily. How could he treat her like nothing more than a coworker when he had begged her to marry him?

  “Wait. Stop.”

  She ignored him, walking faster. Her throat and her chest were tight. Forty-eight hours. She had forty-eight hours to decide if she could go through with this charade.

  A large, masculine hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. Jonathan tugged her into a patch of shade at the entrance to an alley. “I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze contrite. “I’ve never been in this situation before. I’m making a mess of it. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.” Without asking permission, he removed her sunglasses and wiped tears from beneath her eyes.

  The stupid, dense man was so close they were breathing the same air. She felt naked without her polarized protection. “Give me those.” She snatched for the sunglasses, but he held them away, out of reach. She glared at him. “Just pretend you’re getting married for the normal reasons,” she said, infusing the words with all the sarcasm she could muster. “Pretend some poor deluded woman actually cares about you.” Her voice escalated to an embarrassing octave.

  His gaze settled on her lips, the hot stare almost tangible. “And do you, Lisette? Do you care about me?”

  “That’s not a fair question,” she mumbled, finally retrieving her sunglasses from his grasp. She settled them on her nose. “I need food. Go away.”

  Those gorgeous masculine lips quirked upward in a smile that stole her breath. “I care about you, Lizzy Stanhope. I have for a long time. In fact, I almost asked you out on half a dozen different occasions. But in the age of #MeToo, I decided it wasn’t the thing to do. Because I had no clue if you were even interested.”

  “Why do you care about me? Or how?”

  He shrugged. “You’re cute and funny and smart. I enjoy your company.”

  His calm pronouncement destroyed her composure. The aloof Jonathan might be better for her in the long run. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said meekly. “You should go. You’ll be late for your meeting.”

  He said a rude word, a word she’d never heard him use. Then he slid his hands beneath her hair and cupped her head. When he lowered his mouth to hers, his lips firm and warm and demanding, everything spun in a dizzying arc behind her eyes. Maybe she had heat stroke.

  Was it possible for a really good kiss to short-circuit a woman’s brain? When she finally regained her senses, Jonathan was breathing hard. His face was flushed. Her sunglasses were tucked in the breast pocket of his jacket. When had that happened?

  She swallowed. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”

  He grinned. “I don’t know. Did it succeed?”

  “Yes, damn you. But don’t expect to bamboozle me so easily every time we get in an argument.”

  “Bamboozle? Maybe you are too old for me.”

  That he could tease her so easily moments after they had kissed each other senseless told her he felt comfortable with her. Or something. Comfortable was definitely a misnomer.

  This crackling awareness between them was not exactly relaxing.

  She waved a hand. “Go take care of business. I’m not mad at you. I know it’s hard for a high-powered businessman to be gone for a week.”

  He glanced at his watch and muttered an imprecation beneath his breath. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Probably not. You’re not the only one with plans to make.”

  “I stand corrected. At the courthouse then? Saturday
? Two o’clock?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there.”

  He kissed her again, long and slow and sweet as honey. “Thank you, Lisette. I swear you won’t regret it.”

  She already did, but that was grief for another day. In the here and now, she would pretend nothing was wrong. Putting her palms against his hard, warm chest, she shoved. “Go. We’re good. I won’t be a no-show. You don’t have to worry about me, Jonathan.”

  Backing away slowly, he lifted a hand. “Saturday. Don’t be late.” Then he shifted into a loping run and disappeared around the corner.

  Though Lisette and Rebekah were in the office for the remainder of Thursday, they each decided to burn a vacation day on Friday so Lisette could find a dress to wear for the wedding.

  It was a tall order on short notice. Fortunately, Rebekah was a hard-core reader of glossy bridal magazines and a devotee of every wedding-themed show on TV. She picked up Lisette at nine the next morning and was prepared with a list of Charleston’s boutiques and bridal salons to hit up.

  Lisette couldn’t help wishing her wedding was going to be different. She had always assumed that one day she would walk down the center aisle in a big church with violins playing “Pachelbel’s Canon.”

  Grow up, kid, she lectured herself sternly. During the years of her mother’s lengthy illness, she’d had to learn time and again that special occasions couldn’t be planned too carefully. Circumstances dictated change. Life was unpredictable.

  She thrust her girlish daydreams into a mental lockbox and reminded herself why she was really going through with this wedding.

  Jonathan Tarleton needed her.

  * * *

  Forty-eight hours after the meeting in the lawyer’s office, Jonathan stood in the judge’s chambers and felt his pulse rate increase. Lisette was late. Not terribly so, but enough to tighten his stomach.

  Mazie fiddled with the silk pocket square in his charcoal suit. “You look so handsome,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. “I know why you’re taking this honeymoon, but I don’t want you to go. I’ll worry about you every minute of the day. Promise you’ll call and text.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Of course I will. Besides, I’m feeling fine right now. Haven’t had a headache in three days.”

  “You don’t have to be brave for me.” She put her arms around him. “Hartley should be here. It’s not right.”

  “Don’t start with me, Maze. Today is hard enough without you heaping sentimental guilt on my head.”

  She pulled back, looking hurt. “You’re my brother and I love you, but sometimes you are so damn stubborn I could smack you.”

  He pinched her chin, a maneuver she had hated since childhood. “That goes both ways, little chick.”

  J.B. waved an arm between them. “Hey. Break it up, you two. I think the bride has arrived.”

  Jonathan spun and watched the door swing open wide. Rebekah entered first, wearing a flattering summer dress that was the green of Lisette’s eyes. Behind her stood the woman who made his heart race. A wide-eyed, pink-cheeked bride-to-be. His feet carried him across the room, though he didn’t remember telling them to move.

  “Lizzy,” he muttered, stunned and moved. “You look amazing.”

  Her wedding gown was exactly right. Not too casual and not too traditional. It was perfect for a marriage of expedience in a judge’s office. The ivory lace made her skin glow. The strapless bodice emphasized her beautiful breasts and her narrow waist.

  The slightly flared skirt skimmed her hips, ending just above her knees. Maybe he had been wrong about her eyes. Now that he thought about it, her shapely legs might be her best asset.

  Her smile was confident, though a bit wobbly. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Tarleton. Sorry I’m late. I forgot my suitcase, so we had to turn the cab around.”

  His gut eased. She wasn’t changing her mind, thank God. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  He stood back and let Lisette introduce her friend to Mazie and J.B. Soon the judge cleared his throat, signaling his readiness to begin. Everyone took their places. Jonathan was surprised to realize that his palms were damp. It wasn’t every day a man got married.

  For a moment, regret speared him. This surely wasn’t the scenario Lisette had imagined and anticipated as a young girl. At least he had bought her a bridal bouquet. The lilies and red roses were extravagant and over-the-top, but they lent a much-needed festive note. Lisette clutched the flowers in her left hand and slipped her right hand into his.

  He blanked out after that. The occasion was surreal. Never in a million years had he imagined he’d be married in such a fashion. Not quite a shotgun wedding, but close. The judge’s sonorous voice resonated in the small room. Wilt thou take... Do you promise... When the man in the black robe reached the part about “in sickness and in health,” Lisette squeezed his fingers.

  He clutched her hand, incredulous that she had agreed to his plan. He was deeply grateful for her huge heart and inherent practicality.

  When it came time for the rings, he felt a sharper pinch of regret. He’d spent so many hours yesterday dealing with Tarleton Shipping business that he had completely forgotten a wedding ring. Fortunately, this morning he’d been able to rifle through the safe at the beach house and find a small signet ring that had belonged to his great-grandfather. Because the gold circlet was designed to be worn on a man’s pinkie finger, the fit should work for Lisette until Jonathan could select something better.

  He waited for Rebekah to relieve the bride of her bouquet. Then Jonathan took Lisette’s left hand and slid the time-worn band onto the appropriate finger. With this ring, I thee wed... With my body, I thee worship.

  The import of the ceremony slammed into him without warning, destroying everything he thought he had wanted. This was wrong. He hadn’t meant to make a mockery of marriage. He’d been so focused on keeping his empire afloat he’d practically demanded Lisette’s cooperation. And she’d been too kind to point out all his selfish shortcomings.

  When he glanced down at her, expecting to see reproach in her gaze, her clear-eyed smile washed over him like a benediction.

  The judge continued. By the power vested in me...

  The next words penetrated the haze in Jonathan’s brain and jerked him fully into the moment. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  He was married. Lisette Stanhope was his wife.

  She looked up at him shyly, waiting. The other four adults in the room waited as well.

  His body felt clumsy and uncoordinated. Jonathan Tarleton—who knew exactly what to do in any situation—was frustrated and disconcerted. Because he saw no other choice, he lowered his head and captured Lisette’s mouth with his. Not the kind of erotic kiss that prompted raucous catcalls or wild applause, but a quick peck on the lips. The barest nod to convention.

  When he released her, there was a split second of silence, and then everyone rushed in at once to share their congratulations.

  Lisette smiled and laughed and accepted the good wishes with grace. But her gaze never met his. Not once.

  It was a measure of his complete discomposure that he found his hands fisting at the sight of J.B. kissing the bride.

  Then it was over. The judge had places to be. There was no wedding meal. No reception. Mazie and J.B. had offered to drop Rebekah at her condo. A hired car was waiting down below to whisk Jonathan and Lisette to the airport. Jonathan had chartered a small jet to fly them to Antigua.

  Because it was far too hot to linger on the street outside, they all said their goodbyes in the lobby. Except for the large bouquet Lisette carried, there was nothing particularly festive about the moment. Rebekah and Mazie looked worried. J.B.’s gaze was guarded.

  Jonathan knew they were all staring at him, trying to decide if he was going to keel over. Their unspoken c
oncern raked his nerves and made him snappy. “We should go,” he said. “The pilot will be waiting on us.”

  While he and J.B. retrieved Jonathan’s and Lisette’s luggage from the building’s concierge, the women huddled together, deep in conversation.

  The car was summoned. One last round of hugs. Then Jonathan found himself in the back seat of an air-conditioned sedan, seated beside his wife. His wife. God in heaven...

  He cleared his throat. “Are you cool enough?” He adjusted the vent.

  “I’m fine.” Lisette’s response was subdued.

  They had worked in tandem for three years and had known each other much longer than that. Right now, though, she seemed like a stranger.

  What was he supposed to say to her? How was he supposed to act?

  Fortunately, the drive to the airport took less than half an hour. Traffic was relatively light on a Saturday afternoon.

  “I think you’ll enjoy the flight,” he said. “No changing planes in Atlanta or Miami. Our own personal crew...two pilots and one attendant.”

  Lisette twisted the signet ring on her finger. “Sounds expensive.”

  “It’s our wedding day. I thought we should splurge.”

  As it turned out, he was right. Lisette was visibly impressed with the plane’s amenities. While the pilot finished his preflight checklist, the flight attendant—who happened to be male—served them champagne and English biscuits.

  The cookies were delicious. Jonathan didn’t bother explaining that he couldn’t drink the champagne. Instead, he handed his flute to Lisette when she finished hers. After a moment’s hesitation, she downed the second glass. Good. If she was as nervous as he was, the Dutch courage might help.

  When they were airborne, Lisette kicked off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her. She had carefully placed her wedding flowers on the empty seat beside her. Jonathan sat mere inches away, though across the small aisle.

  Only the attentive presence of the flight attendant saved them from an awkward, extended silence. But after an hour that included meal service and various other polite interruptions, the flight attendant excused himself and retreated to a small cubicle at the back of the jet, leaving Jonathan and Lisette alone.

 

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