He set the bag on her blotter. “Did you know your favorite coffee shop sells five brands of condoms along with the coffee, protein shakes and croissants?”
“I can’t say I ever noticed that.” But South Beach shops had their idiosyncrasies, so it didn’t surprise her.
“You can ask me to bring you coffee anytime, along with anything else the store sells.” He added a wink that made her stomach somersault. If this was the way he charmed his women, then it was no wonder “legions” fell at his feet.
He opened the bag to reveal the contents. “Which is your favorite brand?”
Her body caught fire. “Whichever one you’re wearing.”
“Good answer, wife.” He came behind her desk, cradled her face and stroked a thumb over her lips. Her internal muscles clenched and her toes curled. The sex between them had been amazing, and while she should be sated since she’d left his bed mere hours ago, her hormones seemed to be set on simmer whenever Adam was around.
He never missed an opportunity to touch her. To the employees streaming past her open door as the day shift left and the evening crew arrived, he no doubt looked the picture of a devoted, concerned husband. Sometimes he even fooled her.
“You look like you could use a siesta. Want to go home for a couple of hours before returning tonight?” His velvety tone implied resting wasn’t the only thing on the agenda. Her skin tingled in anticipation.
She was tired, but happier than she’d ever been. Since they’d first made love three days ago Adam had abandoned the sofa bed in the sitting room. Loving him and then falling asleep in his arms was far better than any fantasy she could have dreamed up.
Oh sure, she knew there was a good chance there would be a train wreck around the bend with her name on it, but she’d face losing Adam when—if—the time came. In the meantime, she’d try to show him why they should renegotiate the two-year clause in their marriage contract.
She covered his hand on her cheek with hers and turned her lips into his palm.
“Get a room,” Ricco, Estate’s booking agent, called from the open doorway with a wide grin. The staff surprisingly had accepted the marriage without incident. If there’d been any snide comments, Lauryn hadn’t heard them. “Lauryn, I have the estimates you wanted.”
Adam shifted his hand to Lauryn’s nape, clearly marking his territory the way he did each night at Estate, when they went out to eat or at the Garrison Sunday dinners. She knew the gesture was merely for show, but deep in her heart she wished it were more.
Lauryn took the paper Ricco offered with an unsteady hand. When—if—her marriage to Adam ended she’d have to leave Estate, and she dreaded that. She liked her coworkers, liked her job and even liked South Beach’s quirky atmosphere, but there was no way she could survive hearing the rumors about Adam’s latest conquests or seeing the pictures in the gossip columns—pictures that now featured her.
The media blitz Adam had predicted before they’d married had hit. Lauryn braced herself each morning before she opened the paper. She’d found her own face in the society pages several times in the past twelve days since Brandon had issued the press release.
Adam stood. “She’ll have to get back to you on those tomorrow, Ricco. We’re heading out for a few hours, but we’ll be back tonight before the doors open.”
His dictatorial tone allowed no room for comment. Funny, but Lauryn’s hackles didn’t even twitch even though she had a mountain of work waiting on her desk.
“Not a problem.” Ricco waved and left them.
Adam extended his hand. “Let’s go home, wife.”
She grabbed her purse and accompanied Adam outside. He helped her into his car and then scanned the grounds surrounding the club before turning back to her. “The barista said a guy was asking for you at the coffee shop today. Any clue who that might be?”
Her heart jolted, but she dismissed the momentary alarm. “It’s probably just another reporter.”
Who else could it be?
“You’ve become a creature of habit, babe.”
The voice from her past brought Lauryn to a dead stop as she approached the coffee shop counter. Her stomach pitched. She spun toward the man lowering the newspaper that had been hiding his face.
Tommy.
Ice crackled through her veins.
He sat by a window with a clear view of Estate’s employee entrance. Her ex still looked like a biker bad boy from his long brown hair to his Fu Manchu beard and ragged jeans. He tilted back in his chair with a sneer on his face that she’d once found fascinating. Not anymore.
Why had she ever found him attractive?
Because everything about him from his tattoos to his ponytail made your father crazy.
She’d been an idiot to think rebelling would win her parents’ respect, and convincing herself she’d been in love with Tommy had been the height of stupidity.
“Never expected you to turn out so much like your old man. How is the Sergeant?”
“Dead,” she replied coldly. “Why are you here?”
“’Cuz we have unfinished business.”
“Wrong. What we had was over a long time ago—the day you asked me to be your drug mule,” Lauryn whispered and glanced at the curious barista three yards away who stood goggle-eyed with Lauryn’s drink already prepared in her hand. She hoped Jan hadn’t overheard.
“Thanks, Jan.” Lauryn quickly paid for the beverage and then she turned and left the coffee shop without looking back. Whatever Tommy wanted he wouldn’t leave until he got it. She heard his boots on the sidewalk behind her as she quickly walked a couple of blocks without stopping until she reached the Ocean Drive beachfront park. She hoped there were no reporters in the vicinity.
“What? You don’t want to talk in front of your friends?”
She pitched the drink in a trash can. There was no way she could put anything in her stomach and keep it down. She glared at Tommy. “What do you want?”
His brown eyes raked Lauryn from head to toe. “I see you’ve married yourself a millionaire. The expensive duds look good on you. A little boring, but not too bad.”
She folded her arms and said nothing.
“Too bad that marriage ain’t legit.”
How could he know about her marriage contract with Adam? “What are you talking about?”
“Our annulment wasn’t legal.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs and her stomach dropped to her sandals. “Of course it was.”
“That means your marriage to moneybags isn’t, either.” He tapped the breast pocket of his leather jacket. “Got proof the annulment wasn’t signed, sealed and delivered. Your daddy forgot to dot all his i’s and cross all his t’s.”
“He didn’t forget.” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Her father was—had been—anal to the core. He’d never slip up on something as important as separating his daughter from the man he called a thug. Turns out he’d been right about Tommy.
“You sure about that, babe? Because I’m willing to show what I got to the press. They think you’re so goddamned perfect. But they don’t know you like I do. Bet that new husband of yours doesn’t, either.”
Panic seized her. She fought to conceal it. Tommy, she’d learned the hard way, fed on out-of-control emotions. In fact, hindsight told her he’d often incited them—the way he had when he’d convinced her she deserved to go to Tijuana for spring break.
“You’re bluffing.”
“You willing to gamble on that?”
Lauryn’s father had handled everything from the moment he’d picked her up in Mexico. She’d been eighteen, scared out of her mind and more than willing to let Rodney Lowes take control. The only part Lauryn had played was to pee in a cup for a drug test and sign where he’d told her on the annulment petition. There’d been a seemingly endless pile of documents.
All she had to do was get her copy of the annulment decree from her father’s papers. But his papers were in a safety-deposit box in California, and her mother, the one with the key to that box, was away on a cruise until Tuesday. Susan couldn’t retrieve and fax what Lauryn needed.
“Let me see your proof.”
He pulled out what looked like an official document, but held it out of reach. “Uh, uh, uh. No touching. I’m not having you run off with it.”
“What’s wrong with it? It looks fine.”
“Besides the missing official raised seal that means the clerk or notary or whoever never sealed the deal? There’s this.” He shifted his thumb to reveal a faded red “DENIED” stamp.
Her world stopped. Could the officials refuse to grant an annulment? Her father would have told her. He would have helped her get a divorce. Wouldn’t he?
“We’re still married, babe.”
Tommy had to be scamming her. He had to be. But she had no way of proving him wrong right here, right now. Even if she could get her mother to call the bank and authorize them to open the safety-deposit box for Lauryn, tomorrow was Thanksgiving Day. Getting a last-minute flight to California would be impossible, and she couldn’t exactly request the Garrison’s corporate jet service or ask Adam to fly her if she wanted to keep Tommy’s threat and her shameful past a secret.
“You know this is bullshit, Tommy. What do you want?” She fought a grimace at her choice of words. Trashy mouth. Trashy morals. How many times had her father said those words during her teens? Back then he’d been right and she’d cursed just because she knew how much he hated to hear a woman swear.
Apparently Tommy had resurrected one of her bad habits.
Tommy rocked back on his booted heels and slipped the papers back into his inside jacket pocket. “A little green could make this go away.”
“That’s extortion.”
“I call it insuring your future happiness.”
She scanned the park. As usual there were uniformed police officers within shouting distance. “I could call one of those cops over here and report you.”
“Go for it. But then the paper would get wind of your bigamist marriage.”
Her knees weakened. Bigamy. True or untrue, even a hint of this would destroy Adam’s credibility and his bid for the council nomination. She cared too much about him to let that happen. And cared too much for him to let him find out what a selfish, irresponsible imbecile she’d once been.
He’d said more than once that he wanted a conservative, proper wife. And she’d been about as far from that as you could get. Telling him the truth meant losing his respect and any chance of convincing him to try to make this marriage permanent.
He’d despise her. Maybe as much as she despised herself.
And then a niggling doubt made Lauryn’s back itch. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the final annulment decree.
Maybe Tommy wasn’t bluffing.
Resignation settled on her shoulders as heavily as Atlas’s globe.
She needed time. Time to prove Tommy’s accusations were untrue. And she’d have to buy it. “I don’t have a lot of cash.”