The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride

by Sandra Marton

“I can explain.”

  “I don’t think you can. What I have just observed… I must say, Jennifer’s grandmother warned us that you had, shall we say, quite a reputation as a bachelor, and now—”

  “And now,” Linc said briskly, turning to Ana, shielding her still as he shrugged off his suit coat, wrapped her in it and then drew her to his side, “and now those days are over.” He smiled for the social worker but tightened his arm around Ana in what he hoped she’d recognize as a warning.

  “Over?” The contempt in Miss Harper’s voice was almost palpable. “Not from what I just observed.”

  Linc beamed at Ana, who was looking up at him in confusion. You don’t know the half of it, sweetheart, he thought, and drew a steadying breath. “What you just saw was a celebration. You see, Senhora Marques has done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife.”

  Silence fell over the room. Linc figured it was the calm that might precede a tornado.

  “Ana?” he said softly, but she was already shaking her head.

  “No! Miss Harper. What Senhor Aldridge just said—”

  “What I said is not for publication,” Linc said pleasantly. He smiled atAna, though his eyes flashed a warning. “I’m sure you can understand our wish for privacy.”

  “Lincoln—”

  “Darling, surely you can see that we have to let Miss Harper in on our secret?. Otherwise she’d reach the wrong conclusion, and that would not be good for Jenny.”

  Ana blinked. “Not good for—”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.” He could almost see her figuring it out. Then she flashed him a dazzling smile and sent another to the social worker. “We would not want you to think Lincoln and I—That we were—” She blushed. “We are, of course, engaged. Otherwise this would never have happened.”

  The social worker looked dazed. Welcome to the club, Linc thought.

  “You’re getting married?”

  He nodded. “Ana’s done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife.”

  The social worker folded her lips in. “Still, what happened here—”

  “We thought my housekeeper had left for the evening. We knew Jenny was in her crib, asleep. And—” He chuckled. “And I guess we just got carried away.”

  “I see.”

  “Good. I hoped you would, because—”

  “When will this marriage take place, Mr. Aldridge? I wouldn’t want Jennifer in this sort of, um, this sort of situation any longer than necessary.”

  “Nor do we—which is why we’ve decided to get married at the end of the week.”

  Ana jerked as if she’d touched a live wire.

  “Lincoln,” she said, “I told you, it takes time to arrange a wedding.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” Linc tightened his hold on her and gazed down into her eyes. “Which is why I told you that I don’t care about fancy weddings.” He smiled, bent his head, gave her a light kiss and considered himself lucky she didn’t snarl and bite him. “Being husband and wife, making a home for our Jenny…that’s all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

  He knew Ana wanted to kill him, but Miss Harper was buying the performance. Moments ago she’d looked as if she’d stumbled into an orgy. Now she was beaming.

  “Well, that’s just wonderful news, because—well, let me be candid. We’ve run into some difficulties concerning Jennifer’s grandmother.”

  “Really?” Linc said carefully.

  “That’s one of the reasons we decided to step up our visits here.” Miss Harper dropped her voice. “I have to admit, after what I saw this evening, I’d have been faced with a dilemma. Would it be better to leave Jennifer in a, uh, a morally questionable situation with you, or place her in foster care while we tried to sort things out?”

  “No foster care,” Ana said sharply. “Not for our little girl.”

  “Well, no. Not now. Everything else about Mr. Aldridge checked out well. And now that you and he are getting married…I have noted how much Jennifer’s bonded with you, Miss Marques. There’s no harm in telling you both that I’m going to file a very positive report.” She laughed gaily. “That’s a secret, of course, but then, you’ve already shared your secret with me!”

  They made small talk for another minute or two.

  Then Linc pressed a tender kiss to Ana’s hair.

  “Darling, I’ll just see Miss Harper out…”

  “You do that, darling,” Ana said, with another of those dazzling smiles.

  It was too dazzling. When he came back, she was gone.

  Linc sighed, went up the stairs to the nursery and knocked on the door.

  “Ana?” No answer. He knocked again. “Ana. We have to talk.”

  “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “You know damned well we do. Come on. Open the door.” He waited. Then he cursed under his breath and tried to open it but it was locked. “Dammit, Ana—”

  The door swung open a couple of inches, just enough to let him see a quadrant of her face.

  “You will wake the baby!”

  “Get some clothes on and come downstairs so we can discuss this like rational human beings.”

  “I told you, we have nothing to talk about. Lying to that woman was stupid. Telling her we were getting married in a couple of days was even stupider. How long do you think she’ll believe that ridiculous story? And what about me?”

  “Look, Ana—”

  “This is twice you used me, Lincoln. First when you forced me to take this job, and now you’ve forced me to lie about getting married.”

  “I didn’t force you. I offered you employment when you needed it. As for tonight, what did you want me to do? What I told that woman was all I could think of to keep my niece! I love the kid. I thought you loved her, too, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “You really are a horrible man! How can you say such a thing? Of course I love her.”

  “Then we’re on the same page.”

  “The same…? What does that mean?”

  He considered telling her, in detail, but why ruin things so quickly?

  “Just get dressed and come downstairs so we can work this thing out.”

  “We have nothing to work out,” she said with frost in her voice. “The lie was yours. So is dealing with it.”

  “Okay. You’re right. Now, please, get dressed and come down.”

  She stared at him. Then she gave a reluctant nod and closed the door. He heard the lock fall into place. For some crazy reason, that definitive click infuriated him. He wanted to kick the door down, sweep Ana into his arms…

  “Ana!”

  The door opened again, this time barely an inch. “What now?”

  “I’m going to ask Mrs. Hollowell to stay for a couple of hours.”

  “Excellent,” Ana said coolly. “She can play referee.”

  Linc decided to ignore the gibe. “Put on something suitable for going out.”

  She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Well, maybe he had.

  “Nothing fancy. Just what you’d wear for dinner at any little restaurant.” Hell, he sounded like a maniac. “Look, we can’t talk here. We need a place that’s private.”

  “This is a huge apartment, Lincoln. It has, what? Ten, fifteen rooms?”

  “I know how many rooms it has, dammit!”

  “Then why—?”

  “Because I say so. Because I’m your boss. Because that’s how it’s going to be. Any more questions?”

  He felt it again, the almost overwhelming desire to sweep her into his arms… Jenny, he reminded himself. Jenny was in the very next room.

  It was the only reason he was able to walk away.

  * * *

  Dinner. Dinner out, with Lincoln.

  Ana bit her lip as she stared into the mirror. She had to be crazy even to consider it.

  But what choice did she have? He was right, he was her boss. More to the point, that look in his eyes… Heaven only knew what he’d have done if she’d said no. He wanted to talk, he
said, but what was the point? He’d told a lie so enormous it still made her breath catch.

  Now what?

  He would not actually ask her to marry him any more than he would expect her to agree to it. He didn’t want a wife. She didn’t want a husband. He was a bachelor, in the prime of his life. She was a woman just finding her way in the world. Each of them was committed to the idea of freedom—and even if they hadn’t been, they weren’t in love. Her father, people like him, might not believe love had to exist before a man and a woman wed, but she did.

  If she ever chose to marry, in the distant future, she would marry for love. For passion. For all the reasons her father didn’t understand, like—like feeling your heart lift at the simple sight of your beloved, or wanting to throw yourself into his arms when you saw him, or smiling at the sound of his voice…

  Ana’s throat constricted.

  All right. Yes, she felt those things about Lincoln, which only proved she knew nothing about love. All those emotions had to do with infatuation, not any deeper emotion. And, yes, she was a little infatuated with him. What woman wouldn’t be? Lincoln was handsome. He was smart. He was funny and easy to talk to, and when he wasn’t barking out orders he was charming.

  And—truth time, Ana—and what had almost happened a little while ago was what she dreamed of every night.

  Lincoln’s kisses. His caresses. She wanted them. Wanted him. If the Harper woman hadn’t walked in, she would have given herself to him right there, against the wall…

  Thank God she hadn’t.

  What mattered was that he had told a monumental lie, and even though she’d said it was his problem, she would do her best to help him get out of it, for Jenny’s sake.

  Okay.

  She took a deep breath. How did she look? Her hair hung loose to her shoulders; she’d put on a simple silk dress that barely grazed her knees and was the color of rich cream. Her shoes were shiny black leather, the heels spiked. She carried a small black leather purse.

  She hadn’t worn any of these things since she’d come to work for Lincoln. He was accustomed to seeing her in jeans. What would he think when he saw her tonight?

  Her heart thundered.

  Who cared what he thought? They were going out to discuss strategy. Dress for dinner at a casual restaurant, he’d said. And she had.

  Ana shut off the light, went into the baby’s room for one last check, then headed down the stairs.

  * * *

  Would she show up?

  Or would she stay in the nursery and lock the door?

  Linc paced the foyer, hands in the pockets of his tan chinos.

  No. She’d be here. She’d said she would, and Ana always kept her word. Yes, but what would she say when he told her there was only one way out of this—?

  “Lincoln.”

  He looked up. Ana was at the top of the stairs, standing very still with her hand on the railing.

  His mouth went dry.

  She was beautiful. God, she was more than that. He just didn’t have a word for it. Nobody would. There was no single word that could possibly describe Ana. The elegant bone structure of her face. The slender body that curved in all the places it should. And those long, lovely legs. The shoes that made him imagine her wearing just them and nothing else…

  Put your eyes back in your head, Aldridge.

  “Ana.” His voice sounded rusty. He cleared his throat, cleared his brain, shot a look at his watch as if he could actually read it, then looked at her. “Excellent timing. I made a reservation for eight.”

  He waited for her to say something. To start down the stairs. When she didn’t, he jerked his head toward the door.

  “Let’s go,” he said briskly. “We don’t want to be late.”

  She nodded and descended toward him. Lincoln watched the flash of leg, the sway of hip, until he knew it wouldn’t be wise to watch any more. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and busied himself putting it on.

  * * *

  A casual restaurant, he’d said.

  As restaurants went in Manhattan, Ana supposed this one was casual.

  It was Italian, intimate and quietly elegant. It was also romantic. The perfect place for a date, had this been a date, which, absolutely, it was not.

  The captain obviously knew Lincoln. He greeted them with smiles, then led them to a candlelit table that overlooked a small garden. He and Lincoln had a brief conversation about wines before Lincoln asked her if she preferred white or red.

  “Neither,” she said, hating herself for sounding so prissy but, really, what did wine and candlelight and gardens have to do with the reason they were here?

  A muscle knotted in Lincoln’s jaw. “No wine tonight, thank you, Mario. Just the menus, please.”

  Ana opened hers, glanced at it, then put it down.

  “Have you decided on what you’re having so quickly?”

  “Actually, I am not very hungry.”

  Lincoln leaned forward. “Actually,” he said, “you don’t want to be here. Isn’t that right?”

  “We are here to discuss the lie you told.”

  “Is it against the law to eat while we do that?”

  Their eyes met. What could she say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous? Ana frowned, opened her menu again.

  “A green salad,” she said crisply. “Chicken Marsala. Coffee.” She snapped the menu closed and put it aside. “Satisfied?”

  He nodded. “For the moment,” he said, and discreetly signaled for their waiter.

  * * *

  The food was probably wonderful, but she couldn’t taste any of it.

  Lincoln, she kept thinking. She was here with Lincoln. Weeks of living under his roof, of being polite strangers except for that one incredible night when they’d shared a meal and laughed and talked and he’d kissed her, and now she was here, in this elegant little restaurant, sitting at a table with him.

  The meal had begun stiffly but he hadn’t let it continue that way. When their main courses had arrived—the chicken for her, pasta for him—he’d asked if hers was to her liking.

  “Fine,” she replied politely.

  He said he was glad because, for some reason, he’d just flashed back to the first meal he’d ever eaten in a real restaurant.

  “I was a senior in college,” he said, “and it wasn’t fine at all.”

  “You’d never eaten in a real restaurant?” she said, before she had time to think.

  “Not unless you count McD’s as fine dining.”

  She stopped herself from smiling. They weren’t supposed to be telling amusing stories, they were supposed to be planning a way out of Lincoln’s monumental lie.

  “We didn’t have the money for it when I was growing up. And what self-respecting university student wastes his hard-earned money on fancy places when there are school cafeterias and Twinkies in the world?”

  He’d been poor? It was hard to imagine. He seemed so comfortable in his life… Although, yes, it would go a long way toward explaining the fire and steel she’d seen within him.

  Not that she cared.

  “Anyway, I was a college senior, interviewing for jobs, and this guy in a three-piece suit invited me to dinner. I scrounged a sports jacket from my roommate and splurged on a new tie. A good thing, considering he took me to this French place where everything was so expensive I could have lived a week on the cost of one item on the menu.”

  He forked up a swirl of Pasta Putanesca, put it in his mouth and chewed. Ana waited as long as she could.

  “And?”

  Lincoln looked up. “Oh. I thought maybe I was boring you.”

  His eyes glinted with mischief. She wanted to tell him that he was, but how many lies could one evening support?

  “Just tell me the story, Lincoln, all right?”

  “Well, I didn’t recognize anything on the menu, so I decided to order whatever the recruiter ordered.”

  Ana laughed. “You ended up with snails?”

  “Worse. It was Ballotine de Ve
au Cordon Bleu.” Lincoln put down his fork. “Basically, it was—”

  “Boiled parts. I don’t even want to think about what boiled parts,” Ana said, with a little shudder. “You’ve had it?”

  “One summer in Tours. When did you find out?”

  “When I couldn’t chew through my first mouthful.” He smiled. “I asked the guy what we were eating, he told me, and I guess I turned green.”

  “And he didn’t offer you the job?”

  Didn’t. She’d said didn’t instead of did not, which meant she was calming down.

  God, how beautiful she was. And that smile…

  “Lincoln? Am I right? You didn’t get the job?”

  “Oh, he offered it. I turned it down. I knew right then I wasn’t cut out for that kind of life.”

  “But—”

  “But I eat in places like this now. And I own that condo.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, but I came to those things my own way, if that makes sense.”

  It made absolute sense. He was an independent man, her Lincoln. A loner. In another age, he would have been a knight. A warrior.

  Her Lincoln? Ana pushed her plate away. “We came here to talk.”

  “Well, we are talking. You’re getting to know me, I’m getting to know you.”

  “We came to talk about what you told the social worker, and how you can get out from under that monstrous lie.”

  His smile faded. “Getting out from under it is easy, Ana. I just call her up and tell her there isn’t going to be a wedding. The hard part is what happens after.” He paused. “Jenny in foster care.”

  Ana’s face whitened.

  “Or maybe Grandma will come up with a hotshot lawyer who’ll find a way to make her look like Saint Joan. At the very least, there’ll be a long court battle. For all I know, they’d take Jenny from me while it goes on.”

  “From us, Lincoln. I love her. You must know that.”

  He did. He’d counted on it. Now he leaned forward. The moment of truth had arrived.

  “There’s one solution,” he said softly. “But I’d need your cooperation.”

  “I would do anything for Jenny. You know that.”

  He’d counted on that, too.

  “In that case…” Linc looked straight into Ana’s eyes as he reached for her hand. “Marry me, Ana. And help me guarantee our little girl a happy life.”