CHAPTER SEVEN
WAS this his idea of a joke?
What did she know of North American humor? A joke would fit with their conversation. He’d told her an amusing story a couple of minutes ago, so this could very well be—
It wasn’t. Nobody told jokes when they stared at you as hard as Lincoln was staring at her. Ana dragged her hand from his and sat back.
“Are you luoco?”
“You have a better idea?”
His tone was as flat as his eyes. He was serious. Tension made it hard to breathe.
“She knows what she saw, Ana. And she thinks it was dead wrong.”
“It was.”
His eyes flashed. “The hell it was!”
“I am Jenny’s nanny. You are her uncle.”
“You’re a woman.” His voice roughened. “An incredibly desirable woman. And I’m a man. We’ve been dancing around that since the night we met.”
“We have not!”
“This isn’t the time to argue about it. I did what I had to do. For all I know, the social worker could have taken Jenny on the spot.”
She couldn’t argue with that. He had done what he had to do to protect his niece, but marriage…
“I know,” he said softly, as if she’d spoken the words aloud. “Marriage isn’t at all what you want for yourself. Well, it isn’t what I want, either. You know those magazine articles? One Hundred Things To Do Before You Die? Trust me, Ana. Getting married wouldn’t even make it into my top thousand.”
Nor into hers. Then why this sudden ache in her heart?
“Don’t look at me that way,” he said gruffly. “Do you think I’m happy, asking this of you?”
Did he think she was happy, hearing him first suggest the impossible and then describe it as one step up from hell?
“Look, if I could come up with another idea, I would. But I can’t, and if you don’t marry me, I’ll lose Jenny.”
Ana reached for her purse. Anger was safer than whatever other emotion was trying to push its way through.
“Just listen to yourself, senhor. If I do not agree to something I do not want, you will suffer the consequences.”
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. It’s Jenny who’ll suffer the consequences.”
“You will find a way around it. You always do.”
“There is no way around it! We get married, or Jenny goes into the hands of the state.”
Tears burned her eyes. “How can you do this, Lincoln? It is not fair! To make me feel responsible for my baby’s future…”
“Did you hear what you just said? You called her your baby.”
“A slip of the tongue.”
“The hell it was. You say you love her but you’d let her go into foster care, or into the hands of an avaricious woman who sees dollar signs whenever she looks at Jenny?”
He was pushing all the right buttons. She could feel herself weakening. Desperate, she shook her head.
“No. It’s insane.”
“Because?”
“Because—because of what you said. That neither of us wants to get married.”
“I agree. But this wouldn’t really be a marriage.”
She blinked. “It wouldn’t?”
“We’d only have to stay married until my guardianship of Jenny is secure.”
Ana stared at him. “You mean, we would have—what do those romance novels call it?—a marriage of convenience?”
“I don’t know the term but, yeah, that’s what it would be. My attorney would draw up an agreement. We’d both sign it. You can file for divorce as soon as Jenny’s custody is settled.” His eyebrows rose. “You didn’t think I meant we’d do the until death do us part thing, did you?”
That was exactly what she had thought. Now she realized how foolish she’d been. Lincoln was not an until death do us part person. Well, neither was she. Wasn’t that what had brought her to New York in the first place?
Then why did his words stab at her heart?
“Ana.” He reached for her hands, clasped them lightly in his. “I know I’m asking a lot.”
She nodded. It was the understatement of a lifetime.
“If there were another way…”
She nodded again. He was right, there wasn’t.
“We both love Jenny.”
Ana nodded a third time. All this nodding. Was that the reason for the ache blooming behind her eyes?
“So, we do what we have to do to keep Jenny safe. A civil ceremony. Something quick but legal. And once Jenny’s situation is resolved—”
“We end the marriage.”
“Right. I’ll tell my attorney to find the fastest way to do it.”
“A quick marriage, a quick divorce,” she said brightly. “Who could ask for anything better?”
“Of course I’ll make a generous settlement on you.”
Ana’s face whitened. She pulled her hands free of Lincoln’s. He knew right away he’d made a mistake.
“Do you think I would take your money?”
“Okay. Okay, no settlement.”
“If I did this—if I did it—it would not be for payment!”
Her eyes had gone hot with anger. Linc nodded. He’d have to tread carefully.
“A job, then. Don’t look at me like that. I was going to tell you anyway. There’ll be an opening coming up in my company in a few months.” A lie, but meaningless compared to the other lies of the night. “It’ll be perfect for you.”
“I just said—”
“Look, we can argue over the details later. Right now, just tell me you’ll agree to be my wife for a few months.”
Her expression went blank. “That long?”
Why did the question annoy him? It wasn’t as if he’d gone down on his knees and offered her his heart.
“I don’t know,” he said bluntly. “However long it takes, okay?”
She swallowed. He could see the movement in her throat and that made him remember the softness of her skin there, just there, at the hollow where he could see the swift beat of her pulse.
She shoved back her chair. “I need time to think.”
“There is no time.” Urgency crept into his voice. “The Harper woman will be watching us like a hawk. And I told her we’d be getting married right away, remember?”
Ana’s eyes darkened. “Why is everything all about you? You came up with that ugly lie, and it was all because you forced yourself on me!”
“I what? Ana! Damnit, what the hell are you doing?”
A stupid question. What she was doing was bolting from her chair and racing out of the restaurant. Linc cursed, shot to his feet and dropped a handful of bills on the table.
The captain hurried over. “Mr. Aldridge, sir, is everything—?”
Linc didn’t bother answering. He ran, oblivious to the stares, the whispers, flung the door open and stepped onto the street.
Clouds had been scudding high over the city’s concrete canyons most of the day. Now those clouds had opened up. A warm light rain was falling, drawing a green, woodsy scent from the sycamores that stood like sentinels along the curb.
Where the hell was Ana?
There! Half a block away, running barefoot, her spiked heels clutched in her hand. Linc took off after her, caught her and spun her toward him.
“Forced myself?” He jerked her to her toes. “You wanted what happened as much as I did, lady.”
“That is not true!”
The rain was coming down harder. Drops of it glittered like diamonds on the tips of Ana’s lashes.
“Stop lying to yourself.”
“You are the liar, Lincoln Aldridge. Liar, liar, li—”
Linc kissed her. Ana tried to twist free but he thrust his hands into her hair and held her fast, angled his mouth over hers, kissed her and kissed her, without mercy, without pity…
Without stopping, until, at last, she sobbed his name. Lin-cone, the way he loved to hear her say it, and slid her arms around his neck.
/> He groaned, drew her closer. She was so soft. So delicate.
Somebody laughed, somebody else whistled. “Hey, man,” a male voice said, “get a room.”
Slowly, Linc raised his head. He looked at Ana’s rain-bedraggled hair, her gently swollen mouth, her lashes damp with rain or maybe tears. He had hurt her tonight; he knew he would always despise himself for it, just as he knew what he had to do now.
“Ana.” He took a deep breath, then slowly expelled it. “What I did tonight—it was inexcusable.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “You’re right. Asking this of you was wrong. I’ll find a way to deal with—”
Ana laid her fingers lightly over his mouth.
She was watching him as if she were trying to see deep inside his soul. If she could, what she’d see wouldn’t make him proud. What he’d just told her was the truth. All of this was his fault.
He’d built his life around discipline. Not just clawing his way into college or putting his life’s blood into building Aldridge Security, but everything he’d done to survive his childhood, to ensure that Kath had a chance at a better life.
Now Kath was gone and he’d screwed up so badly that he was on the verge of losing all that remained of her. But to try and make Ana help him clean up the mess he’d made was dead wrong.
He took her hand in his and kissed it.
“I’ll find a way, and it won’t involve you. I should never have—”
“I’ll do it, Lincoln.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll marry you and stay married for as long as you want me to.”
* * *
They agreed to tell no one the marriage would be a sham, and not to tell Ana’s father about it at all.
Mrs. Hollowell’s excitement made Ana feel guilty.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said. She kissed Ana, hesitated, then blushed and kissed Lincoln, too. “I wish you all the happiness in the world! Jenny’s a lucky little girl.”
Only Linc’s attorney knew the truth. He met with them the following morning, spoke pleasantly, explained the details of the agreement he’d drawn up and then said he’d like to see Linc alone for a couple of minutes.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he demanded, once the door shut after Ana.
“I know precisely what I’m doing, Charles. I’m gaining permanent custody of my niece.”
“Lincoln. This woman—”
“Ana, you mean?”
“This woman, Lincoln…You know nothing about her.”
“I know all I need to know.”
“This innocent appearance of hers—”
“Charles. I know you mean well but I haven’t come here for your advice. I’ve already decided to marry Ana.”
“And then what? Suppose, when the time comes, she refuses to file for divorce?”
“Suppose the sky falls? It’s not going to happen, Charles. She’s no more interested in making this thing permanent than I am.”
“Indulge me, okay? What would happen, do you think, if this woman—”
“Ana,” Linc said coldly. “She has a name.”
“What if Ana changed her mind? Never mind. Let me tell you. You’d be up a creek without a paddle.”
“Why would she do that? I just told you, she’s not interested in staying married.”
“She might be interested in money. Lots and lots of money.” The lawyer folded his arms. “Who knows what she might demand to go ahead with the divorce?”
“She isn’t interested in money.”
“I’ll let that bit of naïveté go by. What about sex?”
Linc narrowed his eyes. “You’re my lawyer,” he said coldly, “not my shrink.”
“There are no rules about marriages like this, Lincoln. You can have sex or not. It won’t change anything legally but it could muddy the emotional waters.”
“Just draw up the contract, Charles.”
“Answer the question first.”
Linc felt a muscle flex in his jaw. “There won’t be any sex.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“I’m happy you’re happy,” Linc said, his tone still icy.
“One last question. What if the time to dissolve the marriage comes and she refuses to grant you a divorce? Would you file instead?”
“Of course.”
“On what grounds?”
“You’re the lawyer. You tell me. Hell, this is twenty-first-century America. Divorce is easy to come by.”
“But no less messy than fifty years ago. You are, in case you’ve forgotten, a very, very wealthy man.”
“Charles—”
“And you’re well-known. Your name is in the news about as often as my great-aunt Tillie pets her cat.”
“You have a great-aunt Tillie?”
“This isn’t funny, Lincoln. I want you to understand that when push comes to shove this contract, any contract, isn’t worth the paper it’s written on if one party or the other decides to ignore it.”
Linc raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you’re not the wunderkind you claim to be?” he said dryly.
“She’d be in position to take a bushel of your money and, in the process, drag your name through the mud.”
Linc’s expression sobered. “If the truth about the marriage became public after I gained custody of Jenny, could the courts take her from me?”
“After you gain custody? No. You wouldn’t lose her.”
“In that case, draw up the contract. Let me know when you want us to come in and sign it.”
Ana was in the waiting room. When she saw Linc, she rose to her feet. He took her arm and they walked to the elevator.
“He wanted to warn you,” she said softly.
Linc thought of saying she was wrong, but how many lies could a man tell?
“He’s a good lawyer,” he said, just as softly. “I pay him for legal advice and he felt obligated to offer it.”
“What did he say? That I was after your money? That I would not divorce you when the time came?”
Linc pushed the call button. “Pretty much.”
“And what did you say, Lincoln?”
He swung toward her. “You still say my name that way. ‘Lin-cone.’” His voice roughened. “As if there’s only you and me left in the world.”
“You know that isn’t—”
He didn’t let her finish the sentence. Instead, he lowered his head, touched his mouth to hers, lightly, gently, then with growing hunger. She leaned into him, let herself fall into the kiss before she gasped and pulled back. “It will be a marriage of convenience,” she said breathlessly. “That means—”
The elevator doors swished open. It was crowded. “—no sex.”
Someone giggled. Ana felt her face heat. She stepped into the car, Lincoln by her side, and refused to make eye contact with him until long after they were home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MRS. HOLLOWELL left early the next evening, which gave Linc the chance to tell Ana what he’d planned.
“There’s this guy I play racquetball with. He’s a judge. I’ve dropped by his chambers a couple of times. I thought I’d ask him to marry us. His chambers are handsome, plus he’s a nice—Why are you shaking your head?”
“I don’t want to be married by your friend, Lincoln.”
Linc raised his eyebrows. “Because?”
“Because he will think he has to say something personal.”
“And?”
“And I would rather not make this more of a lie than it already is.”
“Really?” He could hear his tone hardening. This was no blissful occasion, but it wasn’t exactly a funeral, either.
“Yes. Really.”
“So, you want to do what? Act as if we’re planning a visit to a dentist who doesn’t believe in Novocain?”
To his surprise, she laughed. She had, he thought, a lovely laugh.
“I know it seems silly but I feel guilty. We’re lying to everyone.”
He felt guilty, too. Not so much about lying to t
he world but about…He wasn’t sure, exactly. Maybe it had to do with what this day should be like for Ana, because no matter what she said, he was sure she would marry someday.
She was meant for the comfort and love of a man’s arms, just not for his. No woman was meant for that. He was too removed. Too dedicated to his work. Relationships weren’t his thing. A dozen women had told him that. So had Kath, only she’d been more blunt.
“You don’t want to open up, Linc,” she’d said. “It makes you feel too vulnerable. I understand it’s because of how we grew up, but you’re going to regret it someday.”
Not true. It was the worst kind of dollar-store pop psychology—and, dammit, what did all this looking into his navel have to do with anything?
“Okay,” he said briskly. “We’ll get the license tomorrow, get married at City Hall as soon as the law says we can.”
“Fine.” Ana got to her feet. “What time shall I be ready?”
Linc rose, too. Oh, yeah. Definitely she looked as if she were getting ready for a trip to the dentist.
“It’s only eight in the evening. Why are you going up?”
“I get up early.”
“Me, too, but I go to bed later than this.”
“So?”
“So,” he said, watching her face, “we’ll have to coordinate our hours. I’d lay odds newlyweds don’t go to their bedroom a couple of hours apart.”
Color swept into her cheeks; she looked as if he’d just told her he had a predilection for wearing animal skins and dancing around campfires.
“What do you mean, their bedroom? Surely you do not think—?”
“Surely I do think,” he said, walking around the table to her. “Mrs. Hollowell thinks we’re getting married because we’re crazy about each other.” He smiled thinly. “Sleeping in separate rooms might put a dent in that.”
“Lincoln.” She took a step back. “No sex, remember? This is a marriage of—”
“I know what it is.” Slowly, he hooked his hand behind her neck and drew her forward. “I also know we’re going to have to make it look real.” He put a finger under her chin, raised her face to his. Her mouth was trembling. The sight put a knot in his gut. “No sex doesn’t mean we won’t share a room. Or an occasional kiss.” He lowered his mouth to hers. Kissed her gently. Waited for what he knew her response would be, that little sigh, the sweet moan…
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