by Gail Dayton
Nyland let go. He looked shocked that he’d obeyed the order and reached for Sherry as if to reclaim his prize, but Mike had her safely behind him now.
“You’d better leave,” Mike said. “Go home.”
“Not without my daughter.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Tug.” Sherry started to step out to the side, but Mike’s raised finger kept her where she was.
“Leave,” he repeated. The other man’s obstinacy was beginning to seriously annoy him.
Nyland swore. “This isn’t the end, Sherry. You’re going to marry Greeley.”
“No, she isn’t.” Mike spoke before Sherry could.
“What business is it of yours? Why should you care who she marries?”
Mike had an explanation ready. About how this was the twentieth century and people had rights. About how Sherry worked for him, and he wouldn’t let anyone cause trouble at his place of business. About how he would get a restraining order to keep Nyland from coming within a hundred yards of the club. But that wasn’t what happened.
What he said was, “Because she’s already married to me.”
The stunned silence that followed encompassed all three of them. Mike shook his head, trying to clear it. What had he just said? More to the point, why in hell had he said it? When, exactly, had he lost his mind?
At least he recovered it first. To the applause of the crowd that had gathered, most of them from inside his club, he swept Sherry up in his arms since she didn’t seem too steady on her feet, and walked away, leaving Tug Nyland sputtering.
He spotted Bruno among the crowd. Great, now gossip would really spread. He headed for the alley. He was not walking back inside the club carrying the woman he’d just announced to the world was his wife. His car was parked out back. Escape sounded like a good plan.
“Mike?” Sherry spoke when he reached the corner of the alley. “You can put me down now. I can walk.”
He glanced at her, her face entirely too close to his, shrugged and set her down. When she stumbled, her knees buckling, he picked her back up. Maybe he hadn’t found his mind yet after all. He had his body working okay, but his thoughts still seemed to be frozen in shock.
“Mike?” Sherry looped her arms around his neck as he turned. “We’re not married.”
“I know.”
“So why did you tell Tug we were?”
“Hell if I know.” He reached his car and tried setting her down again. This time she was a little steadier, maybe because she had the car to hold on to. He unlocked the door and opened it for her. When he got in behind the wheel, she was waiting.
“So what are we going to do now?” she asked.
“I guess we’re going to get married.” He started the car and pulled out of the lot, trying to force his brain to think where he needed to go in order to do what he needed to do.
“Why? You don’t want to marry me.”
He sighed. He wasn’t up to a lot of conversation right now. He’d just fried his brain with shock.
“Mike?”
But it looked as if he was going to have to make the effort. “I don’t want to make a liar out of myself. If we get married, you can’t marry the Geek because you’re already married to me. That makes what I said true.” He hoped that would satisfy her.
Apparently not. “Is that the only reason?” she asked.
“He made me mad,” Mike admitted. “He had no business putting his hands on you like that. You were right. He won’t give up until he either gets his way, or he understands that what he wants isn’t going to happen, no matter what he does.”
“Maybe we don’t have to actually go through with it. You told him we were married. Maybe that’s enough.”
Mike shot a glance toward her. She sounded nervous, timid even. That wasn’t the Sherry he knew.
“Do you think he won’t check the records?” He wasn’t about to push her. If she wanted to back out, fine. This was her plan.
She chewed at a thumbnail briefly before hiding her thumb inside her fist. “No. He’d check. He would assume you’re lying. He lies so much, he thinks everybody else does, too.”
“Then we’ll make it fact. No problem.”
“Are you sure?” Sherry turned her china-blue gaze on him, and he had to look away.
He couldn’t make this personal. She needed his name, his protection, nothing more. He could feel sorry for her, feel protective, but other feelings were not allowed. No possessiveness, no passion and, most especially, no tenderness. This would be hard enough as it was, because he already liked her. It was a steep, slippery slope from there to being in over his head.
“Just so we understand each other,” he said in self-defense. “This is strictly business. We’ll get married long enough to make your pop back off. Till you get your money. Then it’s over. Got it?”
“Gotten.” Sherry nodded.
“No kissing. No sex. No running around in just a T-shirt. I don’t want anything to complicate this. In fact, it would probably be better if you stayed where you are, at Mom’s.”
“Okay.”
He sent her a suspicious look. She was certainly agreeable. Maybe too agreeable? Then again, she was getting everything she asked for. She hadn’t actually said she wanted to have sex with him. She just said it would be okay if he wanted it.
He wanted it so badly his teeth ached with the wanting, not to mention every other body part he possessed. But he couldn’t have it. Because it would be too damn hard to give it up when this was over. And it would be over. The minute she got her hands on that trust fund of hers. He couldn’t forget that the money came first.
“When?” Sherry asked.
“Just as soon as I can get all the ducks lined up.” Mike pulled into a parking lot and pulled out his cell phone. There had to be somebody he could call tonight. It wasn’t that late.
The next morning near noon, Sherry got out of Mike’s car in front of the Palm Beach County courthouse. He had called a judge who was a regular customer and was willing to cut through the red tape with a speed that made her head spin.
“Sherry!” Juliana ran across the sidewalk and threw her arms around her sister in an exuberant hug. “I couldn’t believe it when you called me.”
“I’m not sure I believe it myself.” Sherry let Juliana draw her toward the courthouse entrance, while Mike helped Clara out of the back seat of his car.
“You’re getting married!” They had to pause for a squeal and another hug. “This is so exciting. So…so…je ne sais quoi.”
“Impulsive?”
“Yes. And spontaneous. Free-spirited. We always wanted to be free spirits, didn’t we? Well, now you are one.” Juliana looped her arm through Sherry’s. “Maybe it will rub off. So spill. Who is he? Where did you meet? When did all this happen?”
“We just decided last night.” Sherry felt as if she were wading through a swamp, trying to keep to the more solid ground.
When they had discussed witnesses during the whirlwind wedding preparations, Sherry had asked to invite Juliana. Mike quickly agreed, as long as Juliana was encouraged to believe theirs was a real marriage, so she could help convince Tug to give up on his quest. They had told Clara the truth.
“We met at La Jolie,” Sherry said. “When he was working.”
“He’s a bartender?” Juliana’s eyes opened wide in shock.
“He does a little of everything. He manages the place.”
Shock melted into a grin. “Won’t Tug bust a gut when he finds out what he does?”
Sherry grinned back. “You’ll have to take notes and tell me all about it. Come meet him.”
“Oh my, my, my.” Juliana leaned closer, stretching a little to murmur in Sherry’s ear as they neared the others. “There is something to be said for the rugged man of action, isn’t there?”
Sherry just smiled. Juliana didn’t know how right she was. That kiss, the single kiss he’d given her, had curled not only her toes, but her fingers, her eyelashes and all of her
internal organs, as well. She would have thought it had curled her hair, too, but when she looked in the mirror the next day, it had been as straight as always. She could see no external sign that such an earth-shattering, molecule-rearranging kiss had ever occurred.
Every touch, every glance since then had increased the impact, and when he’d carried her in his arms last night, it had been all she could do to keep from kissing that hollow at the base of his throat. If she had, she’d have gone on kissing her way down his body. She didn’t know why she was acting this way. She’d never felt these kinds of crazy urges before.
She wasn’t a virgin. She’d grown up in Palm Beach, where sex was just another after-school activity. She’d lost her virginity late for this town—at fifteen beside her boyfriend’s pool while his parents were away. She’d hoped sex would make him hers, make him love her, but of course it hadn’t. At least he’d had a good time. Sherry hadn’t, particularly.
She’d had a few other boyfriends since—guys who seemed as if they might be worth the bother of having sex with. None of them were. But with them, she’d never wanted to do any of the things that had been floating through her mind about Micah since that kiss.
Obviously the kiss had not had the same effect on Mike, or he wouldn’t have eliminated the possibility of more from this mock marriage they were getting into. Then again, her lame “all right” to sex didn’t exactly convey her growing enthusiasm for the idea. That was totally his fault. How could he expect a girl to say anything after she’d been kissed like that?
Quick introductions were made, which included a smile from Mike that made Sherry go weak at the knees, and they formed up for the procession into the courthouse. Clara led the way with Mike’s sisters on either side of her, while Mike wheeled the oxygen behind. She hadn’t wanted to bring it, but Mike had blackmailed her, threatening not to let her come, to take his sister Nina as his witness to the wedding instead, unless she agreed to bring the oxygen. And use it. The argument had amused Sherry greatly.
Clara dawdled, moving even slower than she usually did. The explanation came when a delivery boy hurried into the courthouse lobby, carrying a long florist’s box.
“Here we are.” Clara’s fluttery sleeves flapped like semaphore flags as she waved her arms to get his attention. “Tip the boy, Micah.”
He scowled, reaching into his pocket. The flowers were obviously all Clara’s doing. Sherry could tell Mike wanted to complain, but with a glance at Juliana’s watching eyes, he held his peace. If they wanted her to believe, flowers would help.
Six cream-colored roses nestled inside the box, each petal edged with deep pink. Their long stems were tied with pink-and-navy ribbons to match Sherry’s tired dress. There was even a matching rose for Mike’s lapel. Since she hadn’t had time to find anything special to wear, the flowers made the event seem a little more special. Which was not a good idea.
Despite what they wanted Juliana to believe, this wouldn’t be a real marriage. Still, the wedding ceremony itself was real. Sherry supposed that would have to be enough.
The wedding was in the smaller courtroom, the ceremony squeezed in between two divorce hearings. Sherry sometimes thought that marriage and divorce were the primary form of entertainment in Palm Beach. It made her sad to think she would be adding to the statistics; but this make-believe marriage would give her the chance to try again later. In the end she would have the time and space to find—if not true love—at least better-than-average love.
At the moment, any love might be nice, as long as she didn’t have to jump through hoops to get it. Whatever love came her way in the future would have to be “as is” love. The kind that loved in spite of everything. She refused to settle for anything less.
Six
The ceremony was soon over, the words all spoken, the vows made. Juliana wanted to treat them all to a late lunch at the Mar-al-Lago—Donald Trump’s extravaganza of a private club, where he even lived in his own set of rooms—but Mike insisted they go to a nice restaurant just across the bridge, outside of Palm Beach. Sherry didn’t see that it mattered, but apparently Mike did. After lunch, Juliana delivered the suitcase she’d packed for Sherry and headed back to Palm Beach. Then Clara announced that she was ready to collect her things and go home.
“Not yet.” Mike opened the back door of his car for her.
“Why not?” Clara glared at him over her oxygen cannula. “You’re married now. Sherry’s father can’t bother her anymore.”
“He can still bother her plenty. You bother Nina, don’t you? She’s been married for years.”
“You know what I mean.” Clara poked him. “He can’t make her marry that other man. The Greek.”
“I don’t think he’s Greek,” Sherry murmured. “Prussian, maybe.”
Mike ignored her. “But he doesn’t know it yet.”
“Well, you did tell him…” Sherry didn’t know whether she had any right to participate in this family discussion. She was—technically—married to Mike, but it wasn’t like it was a real marriage, was it?
“See?” Clara jumped on Sherry’s statement. “He knows. I can come home. I am going to come home.”
Mike turned on Sherry, his eyes hard. “Do you think he believed me? Do you think it will stop him? You know the man better than I do.”
She opened her mouth intending to answer, but Mike stepped closer, right next to her, filling her vision, her senses. He smelled like soap and man in the sun. She couldn’t think, forgot everything she meant to say and stood there looking like a landed fish.
“Do you really think my mother will be safe?” He lowered his voice to an intimate caress. “Honestly?”
Sherry shivered, the sun’s warmth suddenly not enough. “No,” she whispered.
“Then tell her that.” Mike backed away, and Florida returned.
“Give it a little more time,” Sherry said. “Tug is stubborn. He won’t give up until he’s convinced beyond any doubt. You don’t have to worry about your things. I’ll be staying in your—”
“Oh no, you won’t.” Clara interrupted with a slash of her hand, edging forward till she was in the space Mike had just evacuated. “You are married to my son and you are going to live in his house.”
“Mom, we explained—”
She cut Mike off with another wave. “I don’t care what you explained. Marriage is marriage. Besides, how are you going to convince this Tug person—what kind of name is Tug anyway? Makes him sound like a boat, not a human being.”
Sherry laughed, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. “If you’d ever seen him under full steam, you’d know that he looks more like a boat.”
“You can’t make him believe you’re really married if you’re not living together.” Clara finished her statement. “You couldn’t possibly expect him to believe it.”
Sherry looked at Mike and found him looking back, his expression resigned. “She’s right,” she said.
“I know.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. We’ll move you back to my place. And, Mom, you’re going back to Nina’s. No arguments.”
Clara deflated, looking sour. “Oh, fine. No arguments. But that doesn’t mean no grumbling.”
“If you ever stopped grumbling, I’d have to rush you to the hospital to make sure you were still alive.” Mike took her arm and, finally, assisted her into the car.
“I’m not staying here forever, either,” his mother announced when Mike pulled into his sister’s drive. “Two days.”
“Two weeks.” He thought he could make sure Nyland knew he’d lost in that length of time.
“One.”
“Two.” He had to hold firm. Mom didn’t negotiate. She battered the other side into capitulation the instant she found the smallest crack in their armor.
“I’ll take it under consideration,” she said huffily. “I love my grandchildren, but truthfully, teenagers are exhausting.”
Sherry opened her door and Clara leaned forward to touch her shoulder. “Micah can walk
me in, dear. I’d like a few minutes for a little mother-son talk.”
“I already know about sex, Mom.” Mike rolled his eyes.
“You might think you know all about sex, Micah Thomas, but you do not know everything.” She latched on to his wrist with an iron grip, not weaker than the one he remembered in childhood, and let him lift her out of the car. The oxygen followed.
Clara pulled the cannula out now and flung it at the tank. Mike let her. It would make the trip up to the front door take twice as long, but she’d done as he’d asked on the wedding expedition, so he wouldn’t complain. He would even listen to what she had to say.
“Micah, I want you to promise me that you will do your best with this marriage.”
“Mom, it’s not like—”
“Don’t tell me what it’s not. I’ll tell you what it is. You’re married to that girl. Married. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t like her. Maybe even more than like her.”
He shook his head. Why didn’t she understand? “Okay, maybe I do like her. But that’s not enough. I want what you and Dad had. I won’t settle for less.”
“Do you see me asking you to?”
“Yes.”
She made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat. “I’m not telling you to settle. I’m telling you to give it a chance. You’ll never find what you want if you don’t take any risks. Stop playing it safe. Give Sherry a chance.”
“She’s from Palm Beach. She grew up there. She has a twenty-million-dollar trust fund she’s getting in a few months. You know what those people are like. Selfish to the bone.”
“I know what Babs was like—or Bitsy or Buffy or whatever the hell the woman’s name was. But she’s only one person. They can’t all be like that.”
“Only one pers—” He broke off, shaking his head in wonder. “Look at Sherry’s dad. He’s worse than Blair ever thought about being. I can name two dozen people, without even thinking hard, who are exactly like that. I know them, Mom. I deal with them every day.”
