Marry Me, Mendoza!

by Judy Duarte

  Miguel waited for Marcos to pull out the stool and sit down, then he told him about Nicole’s visit to New York, about the business deal they’d made.

  Disbelief stretched across his brother’s face. “No kidding?”

  Miguel shrugged. “With the money she offered me for going along with it, I can open that nightclub a lot sooner than I’d planned. In fact, I’ve been looking at property in the downtown area and found a couple places I think will work, one in particular.”

  “You mean that whole romantic dinner and public proposal was fake?” Marcos grew silent, his brow furrowed.

  “What’s the matter?” Miguel asked.

  “It’s not right, man.”

  Miguel sighed. “I know. I wish Nicole would have told her parents to take a flying leap, then marched out of the office and disappeared for a few weeks. They would have backed down and turned the company over to her. After all, they think she walks on water. But she didn’t agree. She said they’d backed her into a corner with no other way out.”

  “I don’t care what she tells her parents. What about your family? We’ve always been supportive of you and anything you choose to do. And you’re deceiving all of us, too.”

  “I’m not happy about that. But we’re going through with the wedding. And for as long as it lasts, it’ll be real in every sense of the word.”

  At least that was the game plan. And it was the reason he could deceive his family without feeling an unbearable amount of guilt.

  “So you’re going to marry a woman you claim you no longer love?” Marcos asked.

  “That’s about the size of it.” Miguel might still feel something for Nicole, but it wasn’t love. Couldn’t be.

  On the other hand, their chemistry was as strong and hot as before and was another story altogether.

  “How long do you think a marriage that’s nothing more than a business deal is going to last?”

  “Down the road, after she takes control of Castleton Boots, we’ll get a divorce. But either way, the split will be amicable. No one will get hurt, and neither family will be affected, as long as we keep this to ourselves.”

  “So you say.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Marcos clucked his tongue. “The rest of the family might not have known it, but I did. You were pretty torn up by that split. And while you say you’ve got things under control, I’m still not so sure. You might be risking your heart again.”

  For a moment, Miguel considered the truth in his brother’s words. But he shook it off and managed an easy grin. “I’m not a kid anymore. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Okay, but it still feels wrong to me.”

  “It’s a job—a business arrangement. A means to an end for both of us.”

  Marcos leaned forward, his gaze locking on Miguel’s. “Okay, but I’m not buying that you’re only doing this for the money. I think you still have feelings for her. And I know how hard you took your first breakup. You went so far as to convince Mom and Dad to let you finish school in Mexico so you wouldn’t have to face Nicole each day. So you can’t blame me for worrying about you—and about how you’ll handle a split after investing your time with her now.”

  “Easy. When it’s done, we’ll both go our own way.”

  “Just like that?”

  Miguel released his hold on his longneck beer bottle and snapped his fingers. “Just like that.” He narrowed his gaze as if insisting he was telling the truth, although a niggle of doubt elbowed him in the ribs. But he didn’t pay it any heed. He might have loved Nicole once, but that was a long time ago.

  Marcos studied him a moment, then said, “She’s a beautiful woman.”

  “I can’t argue that.” Miguel glanced at the television screen in an attempt to escape his brother’s assessment.

  “And you moved in with her?” Marcos asked.

  “Into her guest room. We thought it would make things more believable if people thought we were living together.”

  “That public proposal in the courtyard the other night certainly looked like the real deal, especially when you kissed her. How long do you think you’ll stay in that guest room?”

  Not much longer, if Miguel had his way, but he kept that to himself.

  Some things should remain private—like a man’s plan to sweep his future bride off her feet, to remind her how good their lovemaking had once been and to suggest that they become business partners with benefits.

  * * *

  Before leaving the ranch and heading home, Leah, Melina, Wendy and Frannie each embraced Nicole and wished her the best.

  “We’ll see you at the wedding next Saturday,” Wendy said, “if not before.”

  Isabella walked with her guests to the front door and told them goodbye.

  Before Nicole could follow the others outside, Isabella stopped her. “Let’s take some time to discuss the wedding details.”

  “All right,” Nicole said. “But don’t forget that we really want to keep things small and simple.”

  “No problem. Come with me.” Isabella closed the front door, then walked Nicole through the house and out a side door that opened to a lovely courtyard adorned with lush hanging plants bursting with colorful flowers. In the center was a remarkable water fountain with red, yellow and purple ceramic tile that appeared to have been handcrafted by artisans.

  “What do you think?” Isabella asked. “We can have the justice of the peace stand near the potted hibiscus that’s by the far wall.”

  “That works for me.”

  “Good. I’ll call the party rental company and have them bring out chairs. We can arrange them so there’s an aisle for you to walk down.”

  At the mention of “party” and “guests,” Nicole stiffened. “We’ll really only need seating for a few people.”

  “I hope you’re not limiting the guest list on our behalf. J.R. and I don’t mind how many people you invite. You must have coworkers and business associates you’ll want to include.”

  “No, not really. If we didn’t need a witness or two, we’d probably elope.”

  “I’m not trying to pressure you,” Isabella said. “It’s your special day. Whatever you want is fine. J.R. and I are happy to be a part of it and to help in any way we can.”

  “Thank you for understanding. We’re only inviting immediate family—your father, your brothers and their wives. And my best friend, Marnie, of course.”

  And now that Marnie was engaged, Nicole would have to include Asher Fortune, too. Not that she had anything against the man. Asher was a great guy and the love of Marnie’s life. But that just meant adding one more witness to the ceremony that joined Nicole and Miguel in phony matrimony.

  “If your parents have any close friends or associates who should be included,” Isabella said, “just say the word.”

  Nicole wasn’t even sure she’d give the wedding details to her parents, let alone allow them to issue invitations of their own. But she certainly wouldn’t mention that to Miguel’s sister. “Thanks. I’ll let them know.”

  “Great. And don’t worry about letting me know at the last minute. J.R. and I wouldn’t mind a bit. Besides, we both realize that you have a lot of things to do and not long to do it.”

  “Miguel will be a big help.”

  “Have you found a dress yet?” Isabella asked.

  A real bride probably would consider her gown to be a priority, but Nicole hadn’t put any thought to those kinds of details. And to be honest, the whole wedding was getting seriously out of hand.

  Why hadn’t she insisted they elope?

  “I’ll probably go look for a dress tomorrow,” Nicole said, even though she would probably end up wearing the white silk sundress that had been hanging in her closet since last season.

  Of course,
if she did decide to go shopping, that would have to take place after Miguel showed her the property he intended to buy. His eyes lit up whenever he talked about the nightclub, and she liked knowing she’d played a small part in putting the spark there.

  A spark he’d once had whenever he’d looked at her.

  Her thoughts drifted and the memories unfolded to a simpler time, when Miguel could turn her inside out with a single glance. In fact, if he still looked at her that way, as if she were the only woman in the world, she’d be a whole lot more excited about the upcoming ceremony—and the honeymoon.

  “If you want someone to go shopping with you,” Isabella added, “just give me a call. I know of a few places in San Antonio that are very chic and stylish.”

  Under normal circumstances Nicole would have appreciated Isabella’s offer, especially since Marnie was so busy with Asher these days. But it was getting more and more difficult to downplay the ceremony, especially now that Miguel’s family was all on board.

  “Thanks for the offer,” she told Isabella, “I’d love to take you up on it, but I’m not going to waste time looking for just the right dress. I’ll probably stick with something simple. Besides, I’ve heard that wedding gowns have to be specially ordered, and they can take months to get.”

  “With your shape and size, I’ll bet the stores might actually have something in stock.”

  “Thank you. I hope you’re right. And thanks again for being so supportive.”

  “I’m just so happy for you and Miguel.”

  It was too bad Nicole’s mother wasn’t able to share in the excitement or in the planning. But then again, what was there to be excited about?

  The wedding was merely a vehicle to get her and Miguel what they both wanted.

  Yet somewhere deep inside, Nicole wished that things could be different, that things could be...real.

  * * *

  Nicole probably should have jumped on Isabella’s offer to go shopping with her, but she’d had enough wedding talk for one day.

  And enough guilt.

  It was no surprise that her parents had opposed the marriage, even if they’d kept relatively quiet about it, at least publicly. But the Mendozas, who’d probably known or suspected that the Castletons hadn’t thought Miguel was good enough for Nicole when they’d been teenagers, could have held that against her now. Instead, they’d welcomed her into the family fold.

  And she was going to disappoint them all.

  At one time, Nicole had dreamed of being part of a large family—Miguel’s family. And the fact that everyone was being so kind and accepting just made her guilt all the worse, especially when she knew how their temporary marriage arrangement would eventually turn out.

  It didn’t seem right to make friends with the Mendoza women only to end those relationships later.

  So she’d thanked Isabella again for hosting such a lovely lunch, then climbed into her Lexus and drove back to town.

  On the way home, she stopped by the market and picked up something to fix for dinner—chicken breasts, pasta and the makings for a salad. Miguel had offered to fix dinner the past few nights, but she’d told him not to bother, that she’d be working late. And while staying at the office longer than anyone else had been a habit of hers, she’d actually been avoiding having dinner alone with him. But she wouldn’t use that excuse tonight.

  They could, of course, go out to dinner, but that meant Nicole would have to fall into the role of a starry-eyed bride-to-be one more time in public. And after the last couple hours she’d spent playing the part, she wasn’t up for it.

  But was she up for a quiet dinner for two with her handsome new roommate?

  She wished she could say that she was, but somewhere along the way, the business arrangement she’d proposed had gone south.

  Those renewed puppy-love feelings aside, she still found Miguel incredibly attractive. Just being near him stirred longings and desire she’d thought had died years ago. And the thought of being alone with him this evening left her a little unbalanced.

  The image of her plucking daisy petals came to mind—I want him, I want him not.

  She blew out a sigh, wishing she could blame her parents for the mess she’d found herself in. But it wasn’t entirely their fault. After all, she’d been the one who’d concocted the plan to marry Miguel for spite—and to secure her position as the new CEO of Castleton Boots.

  And in the process, she’d resurrected old emotions that were better left dead and buried.

  She had no idea what the next week would bring, but she couldn’t very well backpedal now. Things would have to move forward as planned.

  With that decided, she pulled into her driveway, went into the condo and put away the groceries she wouldn’t need for tonight’s dinner, setting the others on the counter. Then she marinated the chicken breasts, prepared a salad and whipped up a homemade vinaigrette dressing.

  Several times she glanced at the clock in the kitchen, wondering when Miguel would get home.

  Just after five o’clock, she put some music on the stereo, something soft and soothing. Then she had second thoughts. Faith Hill and Tim McGraw duets were going to be way too romantic for the type of evening she had in mind.

  Rather than change the CD to one with a livelier beat, she shut off the power and turned on the television instead.

  Yet after countless rounds of channel surfing, she couldn’t find a single show or movie to interest her and gave up trying. So off it went, as well.

  Next she went to the front window and peered out into the street. Where was he? Shouldn’t he be home by now?

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. She was pacing the floor—and climbing the walls. Why was she so nervous and fidgety?

  Because she was getting cold feet about the wedding ceremony, even if it was just going to be a small one.

  Was it too late for a change of plans now?

  She and Miguel could tell Isabella that they’d been so eager to make things legal that they’d decided not to wait another week and to elope. Wasn’t that what Miguel had suggested they do in the first place?

  As she started back across the living room floor for what seemed to be the hundredth time, the doorknob clicked and turned. Moments later, Miguel stepped into the house carrying a large garment bag and wearing a sexy grin that left her not only unbalanced, but ready to topple over with the very next heartbeat.

  Too bad she hadn’t left the Faith and Tim duet playing. It certainly fit the mood right now.

  But she shrugged it off and nodded toward the garment bag. “What have you got in there?”

  “I thought you should have something special to wear for the wedding.”

  He went shopping? For her?

  Her jaw must have dropped because his grin faded and he added, “You said you were too busy at work to go shopping—and with that lunch today and our plans to look at property tomorrow...well, I didn’t think you’d have much time available this weekend.”

  Miguel had impeccable taste in clothing, particularly his own. So she didn’t doubt the dress he’d chosen would have possibilities.

  Any other female workaholic who’d made a business deal with him might have considered the cost—and offered to reimburse him, assuming whatever he’d chosen fit and was halfway stylish. But today, Nicole wasn’t thinking about bottom lines or balance sheets.

  “You bought a wedding dress for me?” she asked, amazed at how decisive and proactive he could be.

  “I had to guess at the size, so I’m not sure if it’ll fit. Or if you’ll even like it. Why don’t you try it on?”

  At that, she crossed the room and met him in the middle of the floor. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Believe what?” he asked. “Are you angry?”

  “No. It’s just that...” She reached out and t
ouched the bag, wondering what he’d chosen. “I didn’t expect you to do something like this.”

  “You haven’t seen it yet.”

  No, she hadn’t. But the gesture was so...thoughtful, so sweet, so...completely unexpected.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “I didn’t start out on a shopping trip. After meeting with Roberto, I stopped by Red for lunch. And then I decided to take another look at the property. Earlier, I’d checked out the nearby restaurants, shops and businesses. But for some reason, I’d missed seeing a women’s clothing store before. And yet there it was, three doors down. In the window I spotted a mannequin wearing a white dress that caught my eye.”

  “Was it a bridal shop?”

  “No, but I figured the dress would look amazing on you. And that it was more formal than a sundress, yet still okay for a casual outdoor wedding, especially since I’ll be wearing a suit. So I bought it. If you don’t like it, I’ll return it tomorrow.” With that, he unzipped the garment bag and pulled out a sleek yet simple calf-length gown she could wear in the evenings if she were to go out on the town.

  She didn’t know what to say. Not only was it stylish, but it was... Well, it was just the kind of thing she might have purchased for herself—if she’d taken the time to do so.

  She touched the slinky fabric, trying to imagine what it would feel like against her skin, what it would look like when she slipped it on.

  “It’s white and pure,” Miguel said. “But yet it’s classy and sexy, too. What do you think?”

  She thought it was perfect. That is, assuming it fit her.

  “If you don’t like it, we can return it,” he repeated.

  She turned, eyes wide and seeking his. “Don’t be silly. I love it.”

  “Good. Then try it on.”

  “Here? Now?”

  “Why not? Take it into the bedroom and see how it fits. I’ll wait here for you to come out.”

  She wanted to object, to blurt out that it was bad luck for the groom to see the bridal dress—especially on his future bride—before the wedding. But old wives’ tales and superstitions probably didn’t count when it came to marriages of convenience.