CINDERELLA BRIDE

by Monica McLean

  She swatted at his hand but grinned despite herself. "I heard. Carter, I swear, I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you, or you'll end up spoiling our kids rotten. I can just hear it. 'So, Janie, what do you want for your birthday this year? A horse? But Daddy already got you a horse last year. How about a new car?'"

  "Wrong." Carter tugged at her waist, bringing her flush against his chest

  She stiffened, then relaxed. He had a way of doing that to her, making her forget all the reasons she needed to keep her distance, making her feel safe with him, making her wonder if maybe one day, she could tell him the truth…

  "Daddy—" he repeated the word with masculine pride "—is going to foster a strong work ethic, don't you worry."

  "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

  "But you'd better believe little Janie's getting ice cream any time she falls off her horse." He raised his eyebrows with a devilish grin that made Marly go weak in the knees.

  She laid a palm against his cheek. "You're going to make a wonderful father, Carter. I just know it."

  His eyes darkened, and he gripped her closer. "That means a lot coming from you."

  She trembled against him. "I mean it."

  "Thank you." He dipped his head then, and his lips lingered over hers. "Have I ever told you how good you taste in the morning?"

  "No…"

  "Do you want me to stop?"

  "No, but you're going to miss your board meeting if you don't get out of here soon."

  "I know. I'm going." But he only took another step forward and nuzzled her neck.

  "I suppose I should tell you, before you go … oh, hey … umm, that's nice…" She tilted her head to the side to allow him better access.

  "Tell me what?" He nibbled a path to her ear.

  "I, um, don't really like the name Janie."

  "You don't say." He pulled back and stroked her hair, his eyes meaningful with his intent.

  "Nope." She swallowed, her gaze on his descending lips.

  "Thanks for telling me," he mumbled before he tipped her head back and closed his mouth over hers.

  She opened eagerly for him, holding on to his shoulders with both hands, surrendering to senses only he could evoke.

  Every time he touched her, an ache struck her belly and quivered through her nerves. Every time he kissed her she couldn't think for the rippling in her limbs or the heat pooling between her legs. When they made love, she forgot about their arrangement, about the forces that had brought them together, about the shared goal that would keep them together. How easy it would have been to let go.

  So easy.

  Carter moved more intimately against her, his mouth caressing the side of her neck. She hadn't imagined his desire for her last night—she could feel it even now, when he kissed her. But beneath her hands, the hard muscles of his back bunched as though he were restraining himself, as though he knew exactly how far he could go and when he had to pull back.

  Maybe it was his restraint that urged her to try to blur his boundaries, to shift against him in greater invitation and brush her breasts against his chest. Maybe it was his answering moan that made her rub her hips against him, shivering when he clutched at her bottom through the thin nightshirt.

  Or maybe it was the overwhelming desire to break through his barriers before he could penetrate hers.

  She knew the instant Carter realized she wasn't wearing underwear. He let out a guttural sound as his hands slid under her nightshirt, wandering everywhere, dancing over her skin. Shards of heat lanced through her as his mouth slipped over her jaw, along the column of her neck and over her throat.

  "Marly." He uttered her name in a ragged voice. "Where did you learn to do this?" And then, "Forget it. I don't want to know."

  She remembered so well the feel his body wrapped around hers. She remembered losing herself in the depths of his hazel eyes, reveling in his need for her before her own needs stole the last of her reserve.

  "I learned from you." She lifted her leg as he stroked her thigh and hooked it around his waist. "From wanting you."

  All at once, Carter grabbed her tight and pressed her to him, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  He was losing it, but so was she. What made her think that she could crack the walls of his control without shattering her own? She wanted him. Again. Badly.

  She reached for his belt, but he covered her hands.

  "No, Marly," he told her. "No time."

  She pushed his hands aside and continued her task. "Forget time. You started this."

  He chuckled. "Why, Mrs. King. I never would have taken you for a delinquent. Tell me, what else are you keeping from me?"

  Marly's hands froze in the act of tugging down his pants, and her leg slid down his thigh. His words hit home, to the hidden darkness in her soul, and she turned her head, unable to meet his gaze. Would he see the lies and deception in her eyes?

  "Hey, why the long face?" Carter brushed his hand over her hair. "This ain't no high-society boy you married. I like it when you talk dirty to me."

  "It's not that … it's…"

  "What?" He lifted her face and kissed her slowly, leisurely, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her, soothing her, once again arousing her to a fevered pitch as his hands roamed her body.

  His touch filled her with liquid heat, made her feel whole, like a real woman, instead of the mere shell of one. He made her ache to believe again … in miracles and second chances … in the healing power of love. Maybe, just maybe…

  If Carter could want her this much, if he could make love to her with such fierce tenderness, maybe one day he could learn to love her. And maybe someday, if he grew to love her enough, she could confide in him. And then, just maybe, he might find it in his heart to forgive her.

  Then again, maybe the earth could just open up now and spare them both the eventual disillusionment.

  Marly lifted her shoulder and said the only words she could, the words of a woman used to living on borrowed time: "I want you, Carter. Stay and make love with me?"

  Carter thought about her question for a full nanosecond before answering with all the wit and charm and seduction he could muster, "You bet."

  But Marly didn't seem put off in the least as she freed the button on his suit pants and pushed them down, along with his briefs. His breath caught in the back of his throat as she restlessly stroked his bottom and the backs of his thighs, groping beneath his shirttails to the hollow of his spine and around to his belly before dipping lower.

  When she wrapped her hands around him, he closed his eyes and swore softly. For the first time in his married life, he felt his wife needed him almost as much as he needed her.

  "The bedroom?" he managed to choke out.

  "No time."

  It pleased him to know Marly's desire stretched beyond the confines of propriety, that unlike Eva Ann, she didn't require a bed in a darkened room. She pleased him in so many ways—too many, but he couldn't dwell on that now.

  Carter bent down and gathered her in his arms until she straddled him. Positioning himself, he lowered her hips until she eased around him, wrapping him in her tight warmth, her back to the wall. He closed his eyes and savored the moment.

  Later, he would kick himself. Later, he would call himself every name in the book. Later, he would devise Plan B. But right now, he would have her. Right now, he would feast on her. Right now, he would love her.

  When she started to move, he bit back a groan and drove into the heat of her. Together they joined with urgent hunger and lost control. They weren't sleek or sophisticated. They weren't charming or refined. They were artless, raw and primitive.

  And yet as he guided her hips, Carter was every bit aware of the woman in his arms. His Marly. He was attuned to her needs, alert to the patterns of her body. He knew when to reach between their bodies, knew exactly how to stoke her fire, knew when she could take no more.

  "Carter?" She started to tremble, her thighs squeezing his hips.

>   "I've got you, Marly. Just let go. Trust me," he whispered. "Let go."

  With a cry, she clutched his back and arched against him. He held her as her body convulsed around him, and then with one violent thrust he joined her, gripping her hips with an anguished moan.

  The room swam around him. Colors danced like sunlight filtering through cut crystal. Carter pivoted on his heel, trading places with Marly to sink against the wall. All energy sapped, he slid down his back, easing their bodies to the floor.

  For long moments, he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't speak. He'd gone over the edge, into oblivion, the vast unknown. And yet with Marly, it felt strangely like coming home.

  "That was incredible," Marly mumbled against his shoulder sometime later. "I suppose you want me to get off you now, huh?"

  "No, don't move." He didn't want to open his eyes; didn't want to let go of her, to leave the warmth of her body for even a minute.

  "Don't think I want to, but it's time for you to shake a leg, Mr. President."

  "Damn. The board meeting." Carter raked a hand through his hair.

  "Yeah, the board meeting." Marly pulled away to straighten his tie. She wore a content, satisfied smile, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "How soon we forget."

  * * *

  He hadn't forgotten. That was the problem. He remembered all too well, where he'd gone wrong and what factors had contributed to the demise of his first marriage.

  Carter stared at the agenda in front of him, twisting his Cross pen open and closed as he half listened to the ongoing debate before the board.

  "Carter, what do you think?" the CEO asked.

  He shrugged and voiced the thought that had been eating at him all morning. "I think we've been going about it all wrong."

  A flurry of murmurs erupted before one of the board members piped up, "Would you care to clarify your point, Mr. King?"

  "Gladly. Our strategy's off." Carter went down the agenda, ticking off each point as he challenged its validity. "In summary," he said when he had finished, "I see this proposed acquisition as a quick fix. We've got a wad of cash burning a hole in our pocket, so we feel like buying something pretty and showing it off, something that will make us look good to our shareholders, at least in the short run.

  "But if we expect to build shareholder value, we need to position ourselves to be competitive not just into the next fiscal year, but into the next century. We have to look long term, and that means merging—not acquiring."

  Silence filled the boardroom. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at him, all the way down the length of the mahogany table. Finally, the CEO cleared his throat. "You've obviously given this a great deal of thought."

  "I have," he realized. It had all begun the moment Marly agreed to marry him.

  An acquisition, a quick fix—that's what Eva Ann had been. A dazzling trinket for a young man climbing up the corporate ladder. He'd been too young back then to see how high the ladder was, too concerned in his youth with reaching the next rung to worry about life at the top, too shallow to realize his expensive diamond was really cubic zirconia.

  By the time he'd reached the top, he had the insight to know what he needed to survive in the long run. But even then, he'd gone about it all wrong in the beginning. He'd viewed his marriage to Marly as another acquisition, albeit a smarter one, but it wasn't an acquisition at all, in any form. He realized that now. It was a merger. And Marly was his true diamond in the rough.

  The board meeting continued for another two hours, during which the members voted unanimously to postpone the acquisition until they could further explore other options.

  For the rest of the day, Carter considered his own options while he sifted through heaps of never-ending work as if on autopilot. He tried not to think about Marly, not to remember how she looked when she slept in his arms, not to replay the events of last night and this morning over and over in his mind. It didn't work.

  At six-thirty, he got up from his desk, went into the private bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face for two minutes straight. When he'd finished, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and shook his head in disgust.

  "It wasn't supposed to be like this, buddy," he said to himself. "You weren't supposed to want her every second of every day."

  He didn't know how it had happened, how he'd arrived at this sorry state, but here he was.

  "You people are all the same. All you know how to do is breed."

  Maybe Eva Ann was right. Maybe his libido was some sort of genetic defect, common among the lower classes. Marly didn't seem to mind.

  No, Carter King had done his research this time, found himself the perfect woman, and in doing so, landed himself in the sorriest catch-22 of his life.

  He wanted like hell to believe in forever, but experience had taught him forever took two, not just one willing party. If Marly ever stopped trying, if she ever gave up, if she left him … he didn't know what he would do.

  Eva Ann had ripped his heart out, but Marly … if things progressed in the direction they were headed, Marly would have the power to shred his soul.

  Gee, no big deal there. Just his soul. Carter gulped and loosened his tie.

  So about Plan B… What he needed was some distance—and fast. Just enough to regain his equilibrium, so he could start thinking with his head again.

  A few minutes before seven, his private line rang, and he answered, fully expecting to hear Marly's voice. But it was the private investigator, instead.

  "Does the name Billy Ray Cameron ring any bells?" the P.I. asked.

  "Unfortunately so."

  "He's the one—been asking questions about your wife."

  Carter frowned. "What kind of questions?"

  "Where she's from and if she's got any kin."

  He gripped the receiver even tighter. That lowdown scum-bag, that two-bit hood, that bastard Billy Ray Cameron was looking to threaten Marly's family. His wife's family. Carter knew her parents were dead, but he didn't know about any distant relatives.

  "Stay two steps ahead of him if you can," he ordered. "Whatever he finds out, I want to know before him. And Mike, retrace everything we've got. Just as a precaution." He hung up the phone, and for a split second, he could have sworn he saw red.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  Marly spent the morning getting the center back up to speed and planning for the future. When the Federal Register arrived, she circled three grants and began writing preliminary proposals. The nutritionist stopped by, and they planned menus for the upcoming months.

  In the afternoon, Marly phoned in an order for some new art supplies and arranged transportation for some local field trips. Her new name rolled off her tongue with such ease it brought a smile to her face.

  Betsy Jean came running into her office, purple hair ribbons flying behind her. "Miss Marly. Is it true? Robbie says you got married."

  "Yes, it's true. See my rings." She displayed the bands on her finger.

  "Wow. Pretty." Betsy Jean beamed. "You gonna have a baby now?"

  Marly laughed and hugged the little girl. "Maybe, honey. Maybe."

  That evening, Marly found herself sneaking glances at Carter when he wasn't looking. She liked to watch him unawares, when his guard lowered and the man beneath the calm, professional exterior surfaced. She would catch certain expressions on his face—thoughtful, sometimes even melancholy—and wonder what went on in his mind.

  But she couldn't access his inner world without risking his access to hers, and with each passing day, Marly grew more certain Carter would never forgive her dishonesty if he ever found out the truth.

  "Marly?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I asked how your day was."

  "Oh." Marly lifted her gaze from the salad she was tossing. "Sorry. I was daydreaming. Fine—my day was fine. And yours?"

  "Okay. Marly, there's something I have to ask you."

  "What?" She carried two wooden bowls of salad to the kit
chen table and turned, trying to read Carter's expression.

  "It's about your family."

  "What about them?"

  "I know your parents are dead, but do you have any distant relatives?"

  "None that I'm aware of."

  Was it mere curiosity that brought on the question, or was he suspicious for some reason? He had been oddly quiet since she got home, insisting he didn't need any help preparing their dinner, and she'd been content just to watch him. But now, she started to wonder if his pensive expression didn't indicate something out of the ordinary.

  "Why do you ask?"

  Carter pulled off his already loosened tie. "We have to talk about something."

  "Something serious?"

  He scooped two helpings of shepherd's pie onto their plates, along with two corn-bread muffins from the cooling rack, before answering, "Yeah."

  She dropped her fork, and it clanked against a plate. She went to retrieve it and realized her hand was shaking. "What is it?" she asked, folding her arms.

  "I think you're going to want to sit down for this." He put their plates on the table and pulled out her chair.

  Did he know something, something she didn't know? Something she had contradicted? Maybe Marly Alcott had estranged relatives?

  "Carter, you're scaring me. Please, tell me what's wrong."

  "Nothing to be scared about, not yet." He waited until she sat down, then took his own seat beside her. "Remember the P.I. I hired for your background check?"

  She nodded and felt the color drain from her face. "Well, he found out Billy Ray Cameron's checking up on your family."

  She pushed her chair back from the table. Once on her feet, she started pacing. "Wh-what exactly did he find out?"

  Carter stood, too, and placed a hand on her arm. "Nothing, so far. Nothing that isn't public record. Where you're from, where you went to school, your employment history. But when I heard he was looking for relatives—"

  "My parents are both dead. I have no other relatives."