by Alexia Adams
“Hold on one minute. Are you actually saying that yesterday, after you dropped me off, you then organized our whole wedding? Without me? I don’t recall even agreeing to your proposal. Then again, I said I’d have a coffee with you and wound up engaged. Who knows what you think is acceptance.” She jumped from the rocker and stood with her hands on her hips. Unfortunately, the move brought her within a foot of Erik, who stopped leaning and instead stood straight, narrowing the gap further.
She could feel his breath at the top of her hair; a hint of his manly aftershave tickled her nostrils. And when he pulled her into his arms, her hand automatically rested against his heart, which was beating rapidly under firm chest muscles.
“This is for the best—for you, for the baby, for everyone. I’m not saying we have to stay married forever, just long enough to lend legitimacy to the arrangement. If you agree, the baby can have my name if you like, and I’ll support you both for as long as you want. No prenup—everything I have is yours.” Risky talk for a lawyer. He must really want to marry her. The question was why?
“Erik, this is insane. It’s not your baby. It’s not your responsibility. We’ve barely been together two weeks. Getting married is crazy.” Her refusal would have so much more power if she weren’t clinging to him like a piece of melted cheese.
“This is my responsibility. You’re wearing my ring, whether you agreed to marry me or not. By coercing you into faking the engagement, I’ve put you in a compromising position. I don’t think you understand the long-term effects of breaking off this relationship now. Is the thought of being married to me, even in name only, so horrible?”
“Is that all it’s going to be? A marriage in name only?” Okay, who was trying to kid whom now? They could barely keep their hands off each other with just a fake relationship to hold them together. Add a legal document proclaiming them husband and wife and the clothes would be flying before the minister said, “You may now kiss the bride.”
“If that’s what it will take to get you to agree,” Erik promised.
“I need time to think.” Because at the moment, the only word repeating through her mind was yes, yes, yes. If only he’d say he loved her. But she’d learned long ago that “if onlys” just led to heartache.
“And I need to kiss you. I need you, Analise. Please marry me.” He lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Her breath caught as his blue eyes searched hers. The kiss started gentle, but soon his mouth was ravaging hers, imprinting his taste on her brain. When he released her lips, they were both breathing heavily.
“Convinced yet?” he murmured as he nuzzled her ear.
“To marry you? Or that this marriage can be purely platonic?”
His soft chuckle ran from her ear straight to her heart, warming it. “Both,” he replied.
They had want, they had need. This could work. And if it didn’t, well, she could always say at least she tried. No “if onlys” to haunt her. “I can’t believe I’m saying yes to this. I think I should have a doctor examine my head while she’s checking out the rest of me.”
Erik raised her head and kissed her so thoroughly she forgot what they had been discussing. When he eventually pulled back, he whispered into her hair, “Let’s go to Winnipeg to get you a wedding dress. We can leave a note for your grandfather.”
Mon Dieu, I’m getting married.
• • •
Analise stood in front of the long mirror and sighed. The dress was beautiful, just like she’d imagined when she was a little girl. It was hard to get excited about a wedding, though, when her life was spiraling out of control. Erik sat on a sofa, talking on the phone and watching as the seamstress pinned the dress so that it fit perfectly.
The mermaid hemline and ruched bodice emphasized what little curves she had, although her breasts were already tender and had swollen a little with her pregnancy. Another few weeks, and she probably wouldn’t be able to squeeze into the form-fitting dress.
Erik lifted the phone away from his ear. “My gran and mom want to know if there’s anyone else you want to invite to the wedding. Your father?”
“No. The only person I care about being there is my granddad.”
“Are you sure, love? I know this is sudden. If it makes you feel more comfortable to have some of your other family or friends attend, I can fly them out, but we’ll have to make the arrangements today.”
She turned and stared back at the mirror. Was her life so empty that there was only one person she cared to have at her wedding? The numbers on Erik’s side had already escalated from two to almost 300. She could invite her lawyer who managed her business affairs, or her agent with whom she had a casual friendship, or Therese who lived across the hall from her Paris apartment. However, then she’d have to answer even more awkward questions as to why she was suddenly getting married when all she’d come for was a holiday with her grandfather. No, best to keep this on the down-low. Then it would be so much easier to go back to her normal life when it was all over. She squeezed her eyes shut. There was no normal life to go back to. This was her new reality.
A lump formed in her throat, which she cleared before answering. “No, just Afi.”
Erik gave her a puzzled look, then went back to the phone, jotting a few notes on a piece of paper. She could hear him fielding several other questions about the arrangements but let her mind transport her to another place. It was a trick she’d learned covering her first war zone with Jean-Claude: pretend what you see through the lens is happening someplace else. It had allowed her to keep her heart—and her hand—still, in order to capture the most evocative images without becoming emotionally involved. Of course, that only worked until she reviewed the photos later, deciding which ones to send for publication. Then, the whole horror of what she’d witnessed would haunt her until the next day, when it was replaced by an equally traumatic scene.
She’d never expected, though, to view her own wedding as a scene to be diffracted and analyzed later. She opened her mouth to tell Erik she couldn’t go through with it. But the words died on her tongue when she saw the effort he was putting into making this work. He was doing this for her and her baby. She hadn’t stopped to consider what he might be going through at the moment. Surely, marriage to a woman he barely knew carrying another man’s baby hadn’t been part of his holiday agenda.
He disconnected the call and turned his attention back to her. “Tracy called her obstetrician, and there’s been a cancellation for this afternoon if you want the doctor to check you and the baby. If there’s someone else you’d rather see, that’s okay, too. She just thought it might ease your mind. She said she was terrified when she first discovered she was pregnant and sick all the time, and hearing the doctor say everything was fine really helped.”
“Thanks, that would be great.” Analise’s hand flew to her stomach at the mention of the baby. She wondered when it would sink in that there was a tiny life inside her.
“There, that’s done,” the seamstress said as she stood back to examine her handiwork. “I can have the dress ready for pick up on Friday if that suits you.”
“It’s perfect,” Erik declared as he, too, stood and examined the effect of the dress on his bride-to-be.
Analise nodded weakly and then stepped off the dais to return to the dressing room. When exactly had she lost all control of her life?
• • •
Erik sat in the doctor’s waiting room, idly flipping through a copy of Canadian Parent. He couldn’t bear to read any of the articles; it made his current crazy course seem all too real. He’d wanted to accompany Analise in to see the doctor; however, she’d put her foot down and declared she could manage on her own. He was having a hard time remembering that the baby she carried wasn’t his. They hadn’t even made love, for God’s sake. Although he’d thought about it often enough. As much now as ten years ago.
Was he doing the right thing? He wanted Analise, there was no denying that. But now she came as part of a package deal. Was he ready
to be a father? Dirty diapers and sleepless nights hadn’t actually been in his travel plans. Luxury holidays in the Seychelles would now be family trips to Disneyland.
A blue-eyed, chubby baby wearing only a diaper smiled toothlessly up at him from the magazine in his lap. With its blond hair and fair skin, this could be his child. What if Analise’s baby looked like Jean-Claude? Became a constant reminder that he wasn’t the father? Was he ready for that?
Damn it all, he had to be. Whatever happened, he’d deal with it. He wasn’t going to let Analise go through this alone. Even if she decided, a year from now, that this wasn’t what she wanted, he’d respect that decision. Well, he’d try.
To take his mind off his worries, he checked out the other patients in the room. A heavily pregnant woman sat next to her partner, who was reading a golf magazine. She asked him a question, but he just grunted in her direction. Another couple was holding hands and whispering to each other. The woman had a baby names book in her lap. A third woman with a small bump sat by herself, staring out the window.
If he weren’t there for Analise, would she be gazing off into the distance, wondering how she’d ended up in this situation, all alone? He’d caught her often enough with her eyes transfixed on a distant object, as though she’d left her body behind and would be back for it later. Where did she go? Back to Jean-Claude? Was she mourning the loss of her baby’s father? Imagining him sitting next to her, holding her hand while the doctor ran the tests? Erik gritted his teeth. Jean-Claude was dead; he was here.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Analise’s soft, sexy voice called out a moment before she appeared around the corner. The smile she bestowed on Erik was warm and genuine, as though she was glad to see him there. The constriction in his chest eased, and he stood to take her hand.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes. It’s still a little early to hear the baby’s heartbeat, but everything else seems in order. The doctor’s ordered some blood work, so if you don’t mind one more stop before we go home, there’s a lab around the corner that can do it.”
“No problem at all.” He waited until they were on the street before he said, “I’m sorry Jean-Claude isn’t here to share this with you.”
She stopped walking and stared up at him. “Jean-Claude wouldn’t have come with me to the doctor. He’d have left me somewhere he considered safe and gone off on his own. A baby would have been a complication, a change of lifestyle he didn’t want. I’m sad that he’s gone. But if I had to choose anyone to share this with, it would be you.”
His heart crawled into his throat. How could any man not want to support his baby’s mother? Erik was honored to share this with Analise. “I grew up on a farm, so I saw lots of animals being born. But I still think it a miracle that there is a little life inside you. You’re growing a human being. How amazing is that?”
“Absolutely amazing.” Analise smiled up at him and took his hand. A sense of well-being flowed through him. All the success of his career—the accolades and bonuses—were nothing compared to the elation he felt when Analise looked at him like that. He would do everything in his power to keep her smiling and relaxed.
An hour later, they were back on the highway. Analise was asleep, her lips parted slightly. Erik clenched his fist in an effort to take his mind off pulling over and kissing her. He’d told her earlier the marriage would be in name only. However, it was one promise he didn’t think he’d be able to keep. Every time he was near her, he wanted to make love to her until she couldn’t remember anyone except him.
He wrenched his mind back to the reason he’d come to Manitoba in the first place, aside from his grandparents’ anniversary. Ian MacEwan. So far, the finance company had called in all their loans, and Erik was busy preventing him from finding other funding. As soon as Ian missed a mortgage payment on his stables, Erik could turn the screws and let him know what it was like to have all your dreams turn to dust in an instant. Yet, the image of Ian with his young family made Erik’s stomach roil. He’d been waiting to crush the man who had driven his sister to suicide for so long, it seemed impossible to turn back now.
Victory felt strangely hollow.
Chapter 12
Analise stopped by the farmhouse to drop off some dishes. It seemed Erik’s family didn’t think she and her grandfather were capable of feeding themselves and had taken to sending food parcels with Erik every time he visited, which was daily. She tried to resent the implication that she couldn’t look after herself, but the lasagna had been too good to hold on to a grudge for long. Besides, with her near-constant nausea, she hadn’t felt like cooking, and her grandfather’s skills seemed limited to egg-related dishes. There were only so many omelets she could eat in a week.
Erik came to the door before she was even out of her vehicle. She’d really hoped he’d be helping his grandfather somewhere on the farm and she could make her trip to Winnipeg without his knowing. Or at least not knowing until she was too far down the road to follow. Tell no one, the Yemeni contact had said. She didn’t know who she was meeting and didn’t want to get Erik involved in something that could be a detriment to his career.
The muffled noise of a radio talk show in the other room gave her some hope at least that his mother and grandmother in the next room couldn’t overhear their conversation.
“Erik, there’s no need for you to come with me today. I’m only going to pick up the dress and run a few errands. You’re going to have to let me out of your sight sometime, you know.” Analise put her hands on her hips.
“But it’s a long drive to the city, and you’re tired.” He caressed her cheek.
She dug her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from melting into him. A spine would come in handy about now. “I’m fine. Listen, I need a little time alone. I’ve been surrounded by your family since this whole wedding fiasco erupted—” She saw him wince at the word “fiasco” and softened her tone. He was trying to keep everyone happy. He must’ve been emotionally exhausted himself. She put a hand on his cheek and feathered a touch over his lips with her thumb. “I’ll be fine driving in and out on my own. Besides, I do have a little personal shopping to do. It’s my wedding day; I should get a few things for myself. Maybe even a surprise gift for you.”
Erik shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously trying to decide whether she was going to try to make a run for it or if she genuinely had some personal matters to attend to. Finally, he relented.
“All right, but for my peace of mind, will you call me when you get to the wedding shop and then when you’re on your way home? I worry about you and the baby.”
She’d gone around the world multiple times, lived in war zones and refugee camps for months on end, and no one had worried about her. Jean-Claude had left her without so much as a backward glance in rebel-infested villages for weeks sometimes, with only a promise to return as soon as he could. And here Erik was stressing about an hour-and-a-half trip into Winnipeg. Her heart softened a little more. Maybe she should tell him.
No, she had to keep some things to herself, at least until she knew this marriage was for more than just expediency.
“If that will make you happy.” She stretched up on tiptoe and replaced her thumb with her lips, pulling back before he could deepen the kiss and destroy her resolve.
“Coming with you would make me happy. This will just let me breathe while you’re gone.”
“Really, Erik. I’ve been in much more serious situations. I can look after myself.” She drowned the burgeoning hope that he truly cared for her under a deluge of self-reproach. This was only a temporary arrangement, and she needed to be able to stand on her own once it was over.
“I know. But now you don’t have to. I’m here to care for you—you and the baby.”
It was a nice sentiment; however, she could see this smothering was going to get old very fast. “Erik, if this relationship is going to work, you have to give me some space. I’m not used to all this … this … ”
> “Loving?” he provided as his grandmother entered the room with papers clutched in her arthritic hand.
“Yes, loving.” She kissed him again quickly, for his grandmother’s sake. The fact that she felt the gentle touch at the ends of her toes meant nothing. “Now go help your gran and mom plan the happiest day of our lives.”
She fled from the house as though it were full of Afghani militants.
A spurt of gravel accompanied her departure from the farmyard. She turned onto the highway, jacked up the tunes, and savored her first taste of freedom in more than two weeks. Get in, get out, and don’t be seen had turned into get engaged, discover pregnancy, and get married. There wasn’t much further her plan could have deteriorated in such a short time.
As she tried on her wedding dress, she shut her mind to all the issues and complications and just reveled in the knowledge that tomorrow she was marrying a good man she enjoyed being with.
Three hours later, she parked the SUV and went the rest of the way on foot. She hadn’t expected The Forks to be so busy on a weekday, even though it was summer. Glancing around, she was amazed at the crowds. Oh well. The Yemeni contact had told her to pick someplace public. She hoped he could find her among all the people.
Analise wandered around the market and then sat on a bench with a decaf iced coffee to listen to a singing group that had set up in the bandstand. It sounded as though they were practicing for a performance on the weekend, as one of the group kept stopping the song to say a few things and then made them begin again. When she heard the start of “Hey Jude” for the fourth time, she was about to get up and walk away, until a dark-haired man sat next to her.
