Carolann shrugged. “He sounds like he was sorry for what he did.”
“Also,” Mai said, “he’s rich.”
As everyone told her to shut it, Anita still didn’t look happy about any of this, leaning back against the pillows. But, like the girls had said, what if, in the future, Liz wished she’d tried harder?
And not because of money. Seriously.
When Anita gave her a do-so-at-your-own-risk stare, Liz came back down to earth. Bennett Hughes, billionaire and liar. Liz Palazzo, aka Maddie Patterson, a nobody dreamer and misjudger of men. All of it added up to Annulment City.
So why wouldn’t her heartbeat shut up?
Liz got off the bed and took the phone from Parisa, and just as the girls fluttered in anticipation, Liz gently set it back on the table.
“I’m pretty sure a relationship isn’t in the cards with a Hughes,” she said softly.
Don’t cry, she thought. Don’t even.
And she didn’t—not until the girls had left, turning off the light on their way out, and she went back to try and sleep while Anita lay in her own bed, staring at the ceiling like she wanted to say more but didn’t know how to go about it.
But before her friend could engage her, Liz dozed off, thinking that she’d call Ben’s room to talk about an annulment later, after they both got some distance. One or two more tears may have even rolled down her cheek before she clutched her pillow and told herself it was time to leave miracles behind. . . .
Two hours later, her cell phone rang, waking her up.
***
“Hello?”
The sound of Liz’s sultry voice was unexpected music to Ben’s ears as he sat in a tattered La-Z-Boy in Boomer’s family room, surrounded by décor that should’ve died with the seventies: paneled walls, shag carpeting, mallard duck hangings near the stone fireplace.
But even with the stolen comfort of Liz’s greeting, Ben was still out of sorts in Boomer’s throwback, vintage-loving world—and with talking to the woman he’d worked over.
He wasn’t going to screw this up, and he talked before she could disconnect.
“Give me a chance to explain, Liz,” he said.
A long, long pause. Then, “You have my cell number?”
Thank God—she wasn’t yelling at him. “I’ve got a friend who makes a living doing things like finding people’s numbers on the Internet. You should hide more of your personal information, by the way.”
“Thanks for the tip.” She sniffed, then cleared her throat. Was she sitting up in bed, sleep-tossed and warm? Or had she been crying?
Please, please, don’t be crying, he thought, his chest feeling as if nails had sealed it shut.
“I thought I should get in contact,” he said, gauging her.
“Right.” She cleared her throat again. “I was going to call you in your hotel room, but I went back to sleep.”
She sounded pretty matter-of-fact now. Maybe she’d already gotten over the chaotic night. He guessed it made sense that a woman who’d suddenly married him would fall out of lust just as quickly as she’d fallen into it, even though that’s not the impression he’d gotten this morning.
“I already checked out of the hotel,” he said, “so you wouldn’t have gotten ahold of me there.” Time to make the best of this. “Listen, I’d like to take you to lunch, somewhere nice. We can talk.”
“The talking part sounds fine, but I’m not in the mood for a fancy lunch.”
She definitely didn’t sound like the woman who’d maybe wanted to stay married. Ironically, he needed her to be that girl again.
“We can go casual, then,” he said. “I’ll pick you up in my car.”
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather drive and meet you. I’m an independent, pre-annulled woman and all that, you know.”
Smash! A punch well landed. “All right. Name the place you want to meet.”
“You said earlier you were going to Rough and Tumble? How about we meet in the middle, say the M Resort off the interstate at Hash House a-go-go.”
A lot of other women would’ve been soaking him for all he was worth, asking for high tea at the Mandarin Oriental or something upscale at the Venetian. Liz wasn’t kidding about being independent.
“What time?” he asked.
“Give me a few hours. Anita can catch a ride home with the other girls after we finish getting ready and check out.”
Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever had so official a conversation with Liz, but maybe it was best they started now.
All business from now on.
After they disconnected, he checked in with the lawyer Boomer had set him up with—someone outside of the family who’d be discreet about drawing up papers that would suit Ben’s needs. And if Boomer had been surprised about hearing of Ben’s marriage plan, he hadn’t let on.
The charmed and charmin’ life of Bennett Hughes, he’d only said, with a grin Ben could hear even over the phone.
Of course, the agreement wasn’t ready yet, but the lawyer would have something e-mailed by the end of the day. Meanwhile, Ben had more prep work to do.
He called his favorite concierge at the Macau Hotel where he’d stayed for an extended time before crashing at Boomer’s, then asked the man to hook him up with a ring that would impress Liz, just in case she was receptive to his proposition. He planned to drive out of Rough & Tumble and up the interstate, where the M Resort would be waiting for him with its multitude of dark gold windows in the autumn sun and where the ring would be delivered, right into his hands.
After waiting a couple hours, Ben arrived at the hotel, leaving his Audi with valet parking. He was trying not to think about what he’d do if Liz told him to shove it and she went to the press with this whole story. He was banking on the bride who’d seemed to be open to staying married this morning, the lady who was in debt and whose dream it was to start up a dinner club so she could make something of herself.
A messenger met him in the lobby, bearing a marquise shaped ten-carat diamond with smaller stones around the centerpiece and a late-1920s vibe that suited Liz, and with his prize in hand, Ben passed the slots and gaming tables in the sleek Southwestern-designed casino and went to the restaurant. He got a table far away from other off-hours customers so he and Liz could have all the privacy they needed.
The smell of the down-home food didn’t do wonders for his stomach, so he ordered two orange juices, hoping it’d be Liz’s beverage of choice in this brunch limbo. Then he scanned the menu, not really seeing it at all.
She’s got to say yes, he kept thinking. He’d sweeten his offer until anyone would be out of their mind to say no—especially a woman who had dreams and plans.
Soon, he felt a tickly sensation on his shoulders, as if he were being looked at. And when he turned around, drawn, he found Liz walking behind the host, slowing down when they made eye contact.
Stars, light, a shudder of remembrance, their skin pressed together, his words in her ear:
I adore you, Liz. . . .
Ignoring the strange quiver in his belly, Ben stood and pulled out Liz’s chair across the table from his seat. After she was settled, the host left them alone, but Ben was slow to sit again. He could feel the heat off her skin even from a few feet away, could just about feel her lips brush over his like they had last night.
“Did you already look at the menu?” she asked.
That brought him back. So did the fact that she wasn’t wearing the Rolex he’d given her, as if she’d wanted to make a point that she wasn’t keeping anything of his. Or maybe she’d put it up on eBay already or stashed it away? He was glad she wasn’t acting angry, but the lack of the watch said a lot.
He wouldn’t let that stop him.
“Yeah,” he said, “I had a little time to look over the food before you got here.” The ring was on the seat next to him, ready to be offered, and it seemed to loom in his peripheral vision.
He was going to do this, win her over, take her on as a partner, dammit.
“I already know what I want,” she said. “The girls and I eat here on splurge days and . . .” Her words drifted, and she got that sad look she’d worn this morning. “I’m babbling.”
“No you’re not.”
She exhaled, then said, “I’m nervous because annulments aren’t exactly the most appetizing of conversations.” She pushed her menu to the side. “Do you know what to do to get an annulment started?”
“I have an inkling.”
It was almost as if they were two different people than they’d been yesterday, and that threw Ben off. The tension also confirmed the reason he’d wanted to meet her as Joe Blow instead of the billionaire Bennett Hughes, because once that secret was out in the open, this was how people reacted. Differently.
Money mattered.
Taking that in stride, Ben kept quiet as their waiter arrived with their juice. Liz ordered a Farm Benedict with smoked bacon, vegetables, and eggs, and Ben mindlessly asked for the same, focusing only on his future . . . and her.
Damn, he’d thought she was gorgeous yesterday, but now her bobbed hair was a deep red in the late-morning light from the nearby window. Her eyes were a livelier shade than ever, like flowers in a meadow. And those lips . . .
Stop it.
The waiter left, and Ben went for broke.
“Liz, have you ever thought about how you’re going to get enough money for that dinner club you want to run, especially if you’re in debt, as you told me yesterday?” he asked point-blank.
“What?” She inclined her head, as if she hadn’t understood what he’d said. “I . . .”
“I have a reason for asking, so indulge me.”
“I only thought . . . well, that we’d be talking about the annulment.”
He lifted an eyebrow, and for a second, her lips parted, just as they did every time he used one of his charming weapons on her.
Charm, don’t fail me now.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ve fooled around with a budget, and I already knew that the twenty thousand wasn’t going to get me far.”
“Your debt’s that bad?”
She still seemed taken aback that he was going there. “My mom’s insurance stunk, so I paid for most of her medical bills with what I had . . . and didn’t have. She was getting treated for breast cancer until . . .” Her voice faded to nothing.
Ben softened his tone even more. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was a few years ago.” She smiled, then sighed. “At any rate, I’m going to get a job and . . . heck, I should be ninety before I have enough money for a dinner club. I’m still going to try, though.”
So far, so good. “What if I told you that I can get you the money you need far sooner than that?”
Even with the confusion in her eyes, her gaze lit up, and he knew he had her interest. But for how long?
“What if I told you,” he said, “that all you have to do is stay married to me?”
11
Maybe Liz’s ears weren’t working right, because she could’ve sworn that Bennett Hughes had said something about staying married to him.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “Did you . . .”
“Say that I don’t want an annulment?” His grin didn’t wield that sly charm she’d gotten so used to already. “I know it sounds odd.”
All she could do was try not to let her jaw hit the table.
He leaned forward, like he was taking her into his confidences, lowering his voice, his gaze making her feel like she was in on something secret and wonderful with him.
“I think we stumbled onto something that could help both you and me, Liz. Sure, this marriage was far from anything I expected, but think of it this way—throughout history, marriage has been first and foremost a contract between two people who agreed to stand together to face life’s challenges. Marriages were arranged according to how advantageous they could be to both parties—and in some parts of the world, that still holds true.” He raised an eyebrow. “And from what you’ve told me about yourself, both of us could use business partners.”
It was like his words were on a time delay, and Liz was trying to absorb them in a surreal vacuum.
History? Contract? Business partners?
But as things became clearer, each thought collided with every romantic notion she’d been nursing last night, while he’d stroked her face, gazed at her with heated affection, told her that he’d marry her in a New York minute.
What’d happened to that guy? And why was this one so bent on humiliating her even more than she already had been?
She delicately picked up the napkin she’d set on her lap and began folding it, keeping her hands steady. “Gosh, while this has been interesting, I know a joke when I hear one. Bennett Hughes has a reputation of being a playboy and lover of good times, so don’t mind me if I don’t want to be the butt of his comedy act anymore.”
As she laid the napkin on the table, Ben reached down to the chair next to him and came up with a small velvet box. He opened it, revealing the brightest, most heart-stopping diamond ring she’d never expected to see.
It gleamed. It winked. It whispered, Hey there, Liz . . .
“This is no joke,” Ben said. “This is ten carats’ worth of sincerity. And I can back up what I’m suggesting because I can afford to put all the money you need into that dinner club and your debts . . . and into making you a happy woman.”
Holy moly, he wasn’t kidding around. But, at the same time, Liz’s heart cracked around the edges, sending fissures from the outside and toward its core. Marriage. Wasn’t a man supposed to get on bended knee and offer his love? That’s what she’d always pictured while dancing ballet when she was a teen to Sleeping Beauty in the studio, acting out tragic and beautiful love stories, wondering if she would ever have a once-in-a-lifetime, epic experience of her own. Watching her mom go from boyfriend to boyfriend hadn’t given Liz much hope about the reality of love, but that hadn’t stopped Liz from wanting.
Yet Ben was offering her a dream of a different kind—freedom from a life that’d been holding her down for a while now, even if she didn’t regret every penny she’d spent trying to help Mom.
Liz finally looked up from the ring, then back to Ben, seeing the same dazzling facets in his deep blue eyes. But there was nothing real there this morning, not like she’d thought she’d seen last night.
She tried to organize her mind, think rationally about this and not with her heart. “Yesterday, you were trying to get me to sign a nondisclosure agreement because of your brother. Today you’re courting me?”
Like a persuasive pro, he slid the ring box across the table, where the diamond beckoned.
I could be all yours, Liz.
“I want to be entirely straight with you about this,” he said. “A friend pointed out to me that my image could use some polishing. It’s only recently that I’ve started to wonder what it’d be like to actually have a family, a dad who respects me, brothers who trust me.” His smile was tight now. “I spent a lot of years not wanting that respect, sowing my wild oats instead because I never thought it was possible to be more than a foul-up. But change is in my sights now and, oddly, you’re the key to getting it.”
“How? I almost slept with your brother.”
“But you didn’t. And, believe me, Jameson’s got no room to protest because he won’t want my father to know his part in all of this. You don’t have to worry about Jameson.”
“He also thinks I’m a thief.”
“He doesn’t recall what really happened because he blacked out when he was with you.” Ben’s shoulders straightened as he no doubt remembered his own scenario from last night. “At any rate, I believe you’re not a thief, Liz. That’s what matters.”
He’d said it like he was truly on her side, and her anger at him died a little.
“I don’t know,” she said. “How could Jameson respect you for being with his leftovers? He’s going to ask you why you’d want to marry that.”
Ben reac
hed across the table, his fingers grasping her wrist. Flesh on flesh, leaving a searing mark no one but her would ever notice.
“You’re not a that,” he said, his gaze going from charming to something dark.
Biting her lip, she glanced down at his fingers wrapping around her wrist like another piece of tempting jewelry, and he let go, his eyes going back to their regular jaunty shade of blue.
“No wife of mine is ever going to be looked down on,” he said. “You’re going to make me a better man, settle me down, show the world that even a black sheep can reform. At least that’s what appearances will tell them. And you? You’ll have a hell of a story for the press, too—the ex-showgirl who became a member of the Chamber of Commerce. The sharp businesswoman who makes her own rules. You’ll be able to live on that reputation for the rest of your life if you play this right, Liz.”
Boy, he knew just what to say, but she still wasn’t sold. This whole deal seemed so unreal . . . and so cheap. Somewhere in her soul, Maddie Patterson was sitting on a floor in pointe shoes that were battered but beautiful, shaking her head. No. Don’t do it.
But hadn’t Maddie been there for the Mom Show, growing up while watching a woman who lived the American un-dream? Liz had always told herself that she would never be like Mom, that she’d eventually be better and not have to scrimp and survive day by day.
And the fantasy so many people in life strived for was right in front of Liz . . . even if it wasn’t what she’d originally wanted from this man.
You’d be a fool to turn this down, her survival instinct told her. And, really, do you expect to find love out there? It sure hasn’t come knocking before.
Sad but true, and Ben must’ve seen an opening, because he continued.
“All I’m asking for,” he said, “is a year and a month of your time. It’d be enough to show that we gave this marriage a serious try, and enough time to get your business up and running. Our divorce would be friendly, and I’d make sure you have what you need for the rest of your life. Besides all that, I have a personal assistant I actually never talk to in New York, but she’ll be able to help you with the nitty-gritty of your business, which will leave you time to do all the fun parts, like designing the restaurant, hiring your personal staff, looking for the perfect location . . .”
Down and Dirty Page 13
