From the small black purse she’d carried with her all evening, she withdrew several sheets of paper folded to fit inside.
Kate couldn’t believe she’d been given a second chance. Drawing a deep breath, she began to outline her plan to rescue her father’s diner.
“A catering firm?” the man opposite her asked in surprise. “I hate to mention such mundane things, but catering is a tough business, with a low profit margin. And even more important, it requires good cooking skills.”
Did he think she was an idiot? “Of course it does. But since I trained in Paris, I think my cooking will be adequate.”
“Paris, France?”
The surprise on his face was offensive. “No, Paris, Texas! Really, Mr. Hardison, must you insult my intelligence? Of course, Paris, France. I worked there as sous-chef of Maxim’s for the past three years.”
“Maxim’s?” he repeated. “But I ate there last November.”
“And you haven’t died from ptomaine poisoning yet? Amazing.” She had to remind herself not to be sarcastic. Pop always warned her about her sharp tongue, but the man was driving her crazy.
“I didn’t mean—the food was good. But you don’t look like you—I mean, your appearance—I’m surprised.” He finished with red cheeks, but his gaze had roved her face and body and it didn’t take much interpretation to understand his meaning.
“So you think only ugly women learn to cook?”
“No, of course not, but—let’s see those figures.”
Though his resorting to business to get him out of his difficulties was amusing, she didn’t bother to smile. Too much was at stake. But it didn’t keep her from appreciating that she had him at a disadvantage.
“All right, here’s what I’m hoping to do.”
She forgot the earlier events of the evening, her disgust with her companion, the despair that had filled her as they’d driven back to the diner. Inside, the flickering hope that had driven her to William Hardison in the first place flamed high as she described her plan to restore the diner to its former glory.
Or to more than its former glory since she wasn’t sure it had ever been a smart establishment. Her plans included a large expansion of the kitchen to enable her to mass produce hors d’oeuvres and meals for the catering. And, since the man had agreed to listen, she threw in the apartment she planned to add on for herself.
“You want to live here?” His glance around the diner wasn’t admiring.
“I already live here. I’d like to have nicer accommodations.”
His gaze whipped back to hers. “Where?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Where do you live?”
“There’s a room behind the kitchen.”
“I want to see it.”
Her eyebrows raised. She had no intention of showing him her bedroom. She wasn’t ashamed of it, exactly, but it wasn’t a showplace, either. Just a room with a small bed, some space for her to store her clothes and a lot of boxes holding some of her belongings and those of her father. It was none of his business.
“No, that’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.”
“But, you see, Mr. Hardison,” she said with a glacial smile, “I don’t much care what you think about my living quarters. I only care about your business acumen, in regard to my plans.”
“I think you have about as much chance of being successful as the Royals do of making the playoffs.”
Her confidence took a nosedive. The Royals, the local pro baseball team, were halfway through their season with a .348 percent win record.
She stiffened her back and raised her chin. “I see. Well, thank you for listening.” She started to slide out of the booth, hoping she could escape before her eyes allowed the tears filling them to overrun down her cheeks.
“But I will give you the money,” he said as he took hold of her arm.
She froze. Surely she had not heard correctly. He’d just said she had almost no chance to make her plan work. Then in the next breath he’d offered her the money?
Collecting herself, she asked sedately, as if her heart were not thumping like a drum, “On what terms?”
The smile on his lips should’ve warned her. But she was thinking percent, payments, length of loan, escrow. He wasn’t.
“My terms are that you marry me.”
Chapter Three
She gasped, drawing in a deep breath as she pulled herself together. Finally, when she had control once more, she said coldly, “I believe I mentioned earlier that I’m not for sale, Mr. Hardison.”
With a frown, he said, “You misunderstand me, Miss O’Connor. I don’t mean a real marriage. And I do not have any...designs on your body. The marriage would be one of convenience—for both of us—and would only last one year. There would be a prenuptial agreement spelling out the terms with a generous reward to you should I break any of them.”
Will watched her as she tried to understand his words. Admittedly his proposition was unusual. And if she couldn’t read his mind, perhaps even acceptable. He’d almost choked as he’d promised he had no interest in touching her, loving her. Physically. Of course, he had no interest in any emotional commitment.
He’d learned about that mistake from watching his father’s life.
But physically, the lady was a turn-on that would be hard to resist. But he would. Drawing a deep breath himself, he waited for her reaction.
“I don’t understand.”
“You met my mother this evening.”
“Yes. And I don’t appreciate what you did.”
“What did I do? I introduced you. The only thing I did wrong was announce our engagement before I spoke to you, but I said those words to protect you. My mother can be quite vicious to people she doesn’t consider...suitable.”
“To protect me,” she said, her gaze narrowing as she studied him.
Feeling like a first-grader who had lied to his teacher, he tried to keep his features smooth and unconcerned. “Yes.”
“And your reason for the proposal? Another attempt to protect me?”
Her sarcasm shattered his pretense and his cheeks flushed. “Not exactly.”
“Then explain.”
He’d figured she would demand details. Carefully selecting the version he wanted to reveal, he said, “My mother is...an ambitious woman. She’s been trying to force me into an advantageous marriage for several years.”
“And you’re not grown-up enough to say no?”
Her scornful look angered him. “Yes, I can say no. And have, repeatedly. That doesn’t stop her from disrupting my life with her efforts.”
She frowned but said nothing.
“I want some peace. I’m starting a new project that is going to take a lot of my concentration and greatly expand my holdings, and I want her to leave me alone.”
“And you can’t find anyone willing to marry you without making them a financial offer?” Kate quizzed him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he snapped back, burned by her condemnation. “Just because I don’t want—I’m not interested in marriage.”
Suddenly her big hazel eyes grew even larger and she leaned forward, whispering, “You’re gay?”
Exasperation made him slump against the plastic seat as he shook his head. “No, I’m not. Damn it, woman, why can’t you just accept what I’m telling you?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense. Why would any man tie himself legally to a woman if he doesn’t want marriage?”
“To keep from being persecuted by his mother.”
“And to embarrass her, pay her back, perhaps?”
Damn, damn, damn. No, she wasn’t stupid. “You’re not exactly the kind of woman my mother wants me to marry.” He cleared his throat. “If I married a society type, my mother would expect me to become even more involved in the society life-style. I want less.”
“So you thought you’d choose a weed to grow among the lilies, knowing everyone will hat
e her and avoid you.”
He didn’t like what she was saying, but he couldn’t deny at least some of it. “If the men you met tonight liked you any more, this diner would be overflowing.” She raised one eyebrow but said nothing. “Besides, what do you care if they don’t like you? You’d get your money to make your dream come true.”
“We still haven’t discussed payback terms.”
He smiled, knowing she wouldn’t have asked if she wasn’t considering his plan just a little. “That’s the beauty of the plan for you, Kate. If you meet the terms of the agreement, you don’t owe me anything.”
Her mouth dropped in surprise. “You mean—you mean the money is a gift?”
“Nope. You’re providing a service, and I’m paying. One year of your life.”
“But I can work on the diner, get started?”
“I want you to work on the diner, to be too busy for any socializing,” he assured her, feeling victory within his grasp.
“And all I have to do is go through a legal ceremony?”
“And pretend that we have a normal marriage.”
Kate felt her elation subside. “What does that entail?”
“Not much A few public displays of affection, moving into my house. Things like that.”
“But not your bedroom?” she demanded, wanting to be clear about his demands.
“Not my bedroom,” he assured her.
She stared at him. His voice was firm, his gaze clear, but there was a small flicker there that made her hesitate. That and the looks he’d given her this evening. Could she trust him?
Excitement filled her as she thought about finishing the year with her plans intact, debt-free. The possibility of succeeding was greatly enhanced if she had no loans. Maggie hadn’t believed she could pull it off.
“All right,” she said abruptly, looking him in the eye. “Have your lawyer draw up the papers. If everything is as you say, I’ll agree.”
What have I done?
That panicky question was lying in wait when Kate opened her eyes the next morning. She’d tossed and turned most of the night and felt more exhausted this morning than she had when she fell into bed.
Of course, five-thirty came early every morning, but she had no choice. Usually she hit the sack early, knowing the demands of the diner. Someday, she’d be able to hire someone else to share the burden of the cooking. Right now, she handled the eighteenhour shift by cooking extra amounts and freezing them for when she couldn’t be there, leaving her two waitresses to warm up the specials.
Thinking about the future brought her right back to the weird evening she’d suffered through. And the possibilities it offered. She had to call Maggie.
Rolling over, she reached for the phone and dialed her sister’s number. “Maggie? Are you awake?”
Her sister growled into the phone. “The sun isn’t up.”
“I know. But I had to tell you. I’ve found someone to give me the money for the diner!”
Ever practical, Maggie got right to the point. “What do you have to do in return?”
Kate tried several ways of answering, but nothing came out. It wasn’t easy to explain.
Maggie’s voice tightened. “Kate? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she hurriedly said. Maggie was younger by two years, but she’d always been the responsible one, the one to come along behind Kate and tidy up her messes.
“Then why haven’t you answered my question?”
“Because it’s hard to explain. It’s—it’s a personal services contract.” That sounded like a polite way to categorize their agreement.
“Kate! You’re not—”
“No!” Kate returned at once, understanding her sister’s misapprehension from her tone of voice. Then she rethought her answer. “I’m going to—to marry the man for one year. A platonic marriage. Strictly business.”
“Has he seen you?”
“Yes, of course he has.”
“Then don’t do it.” With an exasperated sigh, Maggie added, “No man could marry you and keep it platonic...unless he’s gay, of course. Is he?”
Kate let her thoughts travel over the sexy image of William Hardison in a tux. With a sigh, she admitted, “No, he’s not.”
“I don’t like this, Kate.”
“I know, Maggie, but I have to do it. For Pop. I know you don’t like the idea—”
“I just don’t think—never mind. I know it’s important for you to keep the diner. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t. It’s all going to be spelled out in an agreement. And I’ll be able to make a good living. Maybe I can even help Susan some.”
“If she’ll let you. I’ve tried, but she’s too proud. She won’t let me do much.”
“But that’s the beauty of my plan, Maggie. She’ll be part-owner. Both of you will. If I make any profits, you two will get your share.”
Maggie, ever supportive, didn’t voice her doubts, though Kate knew she had them. “Good. Have Tori look at the contract before you sign it.”
Kate smiled. She’d known Maggie would be practical. “You’re right I’ll call her.”
After saying goodbye to her sister, she added to her list of things to do a call to Victoria Herring, a longtime friend who was an attorney. And Susan. She deserved to hear the good news, too. Maggie and Kate loved their new sister, but they found her as stubborn as either of them. She refused any offers of money to help her raise her siblings.
And without a debt overhead, Kate could offer real profit. She turned to the most entertaining of her plans, new menus. Catering offerings. What she’d tasted at the party at the museum last night wouldn’t be hard to beat. She’d need an entrée, of course, to society, someone to lend her support.
She almost slipped in the shower as she realized the added benefit to marrying William Hardison. Of course! He would be her entrée. She’d been concentrating on the financial aspects of their agreement, but there was more to be gained from their liaison.
Frowning, she remembered his hope that she would keep him from the necessity of social engagements. Fine. That’s what she would do. She would be working, anyway, if her ideas worked out. No one would expect her husband to accompany her on catering jobs.
Having nicely set him aside from her plans, Kate dressed and headed for the diner’s kitchen, ready to start her day, hope riding high.
When Will reached his office the next morning, his secretary handed him a stack of messages from his mother. He’d turned off the ringer on his phone when he’d gotten home last night. He knew his mother would call and he didn’t want to talk with her until he could present her with a fait accompli.
“She’s already called three times, Mr. Hardison. I assured her you would be in shortly.”
“And I am. But I don’t want to talk to her just yet. If she calls again, tell her I’ll be in touch by this evening, but whatever you do, don’t put her through. And get Charles Wilson on the phone for me.”
He’d barely sat down at his desk when his secretary buzzed him to pick up the phone.
After his greeting, his attorney asked, “Will? What’s up, guy? I hear you caused a ruckus at last night’s party.”
“Maybe. Listen, I need some fast work. Can you clear your morning and get right over here?”
“Problem?”
Charles was not only a friend, but also an efficient, knowledgeable lawyer. He didn’t waste time with protests.
“Not really. More of an agreement that will free me from problems, but it’s...personal.”
Knowing his words would intrigue the other man, Will smiled as Charles gave him his assurance he’d be right over and hung up the phone.
Then he pulled the legal-size pad from his briefcase. Last night, when he’d been unable to go to sleep right away, he’d made a list of his requirements for the agreement. Now he wanted to review them. It wouldn’t do to be careless. If he left a loophole, Miss Kate O’Connor could take him to the cleaners for a healthy reward.
>
She wouldn’t do that. He dismissed that unbidden thought with a cynicism borne of living with a greedy woman—his mother. She had dared many things he would have thought beyond a woman who loved her husband, as she’d always professed to do.
Better to concentrate on the legalities. If he didn’t leave any options for Miss O’Connor, then he wouldn’t have to rely on a generous heart that he wasn’t sure existed.
Charles stared at him.
“You want to do what?”
“Weren’t you listening? I just explained it, Charles. It’s not that complicated for a legal mind like yours.”
“Complicated? No. Stupid, yes.”
“Why? I thought you’d be pleased. I’ve covered every eventuality.”
“What does this woman look like?”
Charles’s unexpected question shook Will. “Why?”
“I heard she was a knockout. A redheaded bombshell.” Charles’s gaze remained fixed on Will.
How could he deny Charles’s description? Even thinking about the way Kate had looked last night, the response from the other men, hell, from him, made denial impossible. “You heard right,” he admitted tersely.
“And you want to put in the contract that if you have sex, even consensual sex, she gets half of everything?” Charles’s voice rose higher with each word.
“Don’t you have any faith in my self-control?” Will asked, glaring at his friend.
“Not unless you’re no longer male. Proximity, legality and sex appeal don’t promote abstinence when they’re combined. It would be too easy to let yourself believe she cares about you when your hormones are in overdrive.”
“Well, maybe I’ll hang a copy of our agreement over my bed so I can’t forget.” Or a picture of his mother. Either one would be a reminder that women are out for what they can get...and nothing more.
“Man, you are crazy,” Charles returned. “Don’t you want to take some time to think about this—this contract?”
“Nope. She might change her mind.” Will was afraid Kate might decide he wasn’t offering enough and up her demands. “Can you have the contract ready by four this afternoon?”
Marry Me, Kate Page 3
