Movement down the hall drew Lauryn’s attention. Brandon Washington strolled toward them. He was Adam’s height, attractive and African-American. Lauryn had spoken with him on numerous occasions when he stopped by Estate.
The men shook hands and clapped shoulders before Brandon greeted her with a nod. Lauryn nodded back and tried to smile.
Adam indicated Mrs. Suarez. “Is she still running this place?”
“She likes to think so,” Brandon replied. The warmth in his eyes belied his firm voice. “Let’s step into my office.” Brandon turned to Mrs. Suarez. “Give us five minutes and then join us, please.”
Lauryn’s mouth dried. The deal was all but done. Her feet felt weighted as she followed the men across the carpet. The point of no return lay directly ahead.
But if she walked away what would she have learned about her mother? Not enough. Not nearly enough. And she’d probably lose her job, too, for leading Adam on and then reneging.
The door closed behind them, sealing them into Brandon’s office. He faced them across his desk and waited until they were seated before asking Adam, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.”
Dark brown eyes lasered in on Lauryn’s. “Are you?”
“I—” She covered her flash of panic by clearing her throat and handing over the folder. “I am.”
Brandon accepted it and withdrew the prenuptial agreement and marriage contract. “Did you have any questions, Lauryn? Is there anything that requires clarification?”
Is there another way? “No.”
“She didn’t have a lawyer read the agreements,” Adam said.
Brandon stilled. “Would you like me to have one of my associates come in and go over the documents? I can assure you he’d be unbiased.”
“No. I’m comfortable with the contracts.”
Brandon nodded. “Once you get to the Bahamas you’ll have to provide proof of arrival time in the country. The airport should be able to give you that. Then you’ll swear before the U.S. Consul at the American Embassy that you’re single American citizens who wish to get married. The next day you’ll visit the Registrar General’s office to get your license. No blood tests are required, but Adam says you’re both going to be tested tomorrow morning anyway. Good decision.”
That was news. Lauryn looked at Adam. He stared back. He must really believe he’d be able to charm her into bed.
Not going to happen, she told him silently with her eyes.
One corner of his mouth lifted, and she could practically hear his thoughts. Wanna bet?
“Lauryn, are you divorced or widowed?” Brandon asked as he laid the documents on the desk in front of them.
“Um…no.” She’d been told annulments didn’t count. Legally it was as if her marriage had never happened, which was only fitting since she couldn’t remember the ceremony. Her skin burned with shame over that low point in her life. She’d just as soon nobody ever knew how stupid she’d been.
“Then that’s all the paperwork you’ll need. Cassie has arranged the rental of a cottage for you on a private beach. She’s also hired the minister, photographer and caterers. The ceremony will take place Thursday evening on the beach at sunset. Cassie and I will be your witnesses. I’ll issue a press release afterward. Any questions?”
Cold permeated Lauryn’s hands and feet. She shook her head because she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d tried.
A tap sounded on the door. It opened and Mrs. Suarez poked her salt-and-pepper head through the gap. “Ready for me?”
“Perfect timing as always,” Brandon answered.
The petite woman bustled in carrying her notary stamp.
Brandon offered Lauryn a pen. “Lauryn, you sign first.”
It took a second to find her nerve. She accepted the pen with an almost steady hand and scratched her name and the date where he indicated, first on the marriage contract and then on the prenuptial agreement. Adam did the same. And then Mrs. Suarez affixed her notary stamp, date and signature to each.
Done.
Heavy doubts rumbled through Lauryn like a California mud slide followed by a weird kind of numbness as Brandon matter-of-factly collected the documents and returned them to the file folder.
“I’ll make sure you each have copies and I’ll see you Thursday.” Brandon stood and then extended his hand.
Thursday.
In forty-eight hours she’d be a married woman. Again.
And this time she couldn’t call daddy to fix her mistake.
“Will you marry me, Lauryn?”
Stunned, Lauryn stared at Adam. The buzz in her ears drowned out the conversations around them in the elegant, exclusive restaurant. Or maybe a hush had fallen over the eavesdropping patrons awaiting her response.
She didn’t know much about diamonds, but she’d bet the one pinched between Adam’s finger and thumb cost a mint. The marquis stone had to be at least two carats. She forced her gaze from the mesmerizing sparkler to his eyes. Serious. Compelling. Intensely blue.
“I—I—”
Even though they hadn’t rehearsed this, even though he’d surprised her with this very public proposal, she knew what she was supposed to say. She just couldn’t get her mouth to work.
Flowers. Crystal. Candlelight. A strolling violinist. A prime table overlooking the bay. Adam had planned the perfect setting for a proposal.
And it was all fake. As fake as their marriage would be.
“Lauryn, baby, don’t leave me hanging. You know we belong together.”
She heard the warning in his deep voice and pressed a hand over her frantically beating heart. This wasn’t right. And yet what choice did she have if she wanted to learn the truth?
Answer the man.
“Y-yes,” she heard herself say. “Yes, Adam, I’ll marry you.”
A spattering of applause startled and embarrassed her. These days she hated being a spectacle as much as she’d once thrived on such attention. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut and then met Adam’s gaze. He wore a wide smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes—as he slipped the ring on her finger. And then he stood and pulled her into his arms.
His mouth covered hers so quickly she froze in shock. She hadn’t expected such a public first kiss, nor had she expected his mouth to be soft. Or gentle. Or warm. Or persuasive. Or delicious. He sipped from her lips the way he had from his wineglass earlier.
Not that she’d been watching his mouth. Much.
He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, leaning his forehead against hers. “Put your arms around my neck.”
His lips brushed hers with each whispered word and the eroticism nearly melted her. She lifted her arms as directed and his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. The embrace mashed her br**sts against the hard, hot wall of his chest and fused her h*ps to his. Desire swept through her like a California canyon fire, searing her deep inside. She planted her hands against his lapels, broke the kiss and looked away—right into the eyes of Helene Ainsley two tables away.
It’s all about appearances, Adam had said.
And Lauryn had better not forget it. That’s all this was. A charade. A setup. A chance for him to paint a convincing picture for the business council nominating committee. The heat in Lauryn’s veins turned to ice.
Adam reclaimed her hand and carried it to his lips. He kissed her knuckle below the ring and reseated her. Leaning over her, he caressed her shoulders and then pressed another scorching kiss to the tender skin beneath her ear. Goose bumps rose on her skin.
Not good. She really, really didn’t want to want him.
“Very convincing. Good job,” he murmured low enough that only she could hear.
The waiter arrived immediately with a bottle of champagne and presented the label for inspection.
Oh yes, Adam had definitely planned this—right down to preordering his favorite vintage of the Salon Blanc champagne. Lauryn knew his preferences because the club kept the brand in stock. Rumor had it that when he requested a bottle he’d chosen his bedmate for the night.
Lauryn didn’t want to be just another woman to share his sheets and his champagne. She’d better not forget the Adam Garrisons of this world bought what they wanted.
He might have bought her participation, but he couldn’t buy her self-respect. And that meant she had to stay out of his bed no matter how easily he’d awoken the passionate hedonist she thought she’d buried years ago. Because when the hedonist came out to play, her common sense went away.
And she refused to be another man’s puppet.
Lauryn stopped dead on the asphalt. “What is that?”
“A Columbia 400, turbo,” Adam said with enough pride in his voice to clamp an iron band around Lauryn’s chest. “My plane. Your ride,” he added, confirming her worst fears.
He covered the last ten yards in quick, long strides and set their luggage down beside a tiny white airplane with a shiny propeller on its nose. His hand dipped into his pocket, reappearing with a set of keys.
She closed her eyes and gulped. This is so not good.
She should have known he wasn’t just taking a different route to Miami International when he headed west of town.
Lauryn’s shaking legs carried her forward at a much slower pace. “Why can’t we fly commercial? You know, big jets with trained pilots, copilots and air hostesses who bring drinks?”
“Too slow.” He shoved his aviator sunglasses into his hair and looked directly into her eyes as if he believed his calm assuredness would be contagious. “I am a trained pilot. I’ve had a license since I turned sixteen. You’ll be safe with me.”
Someone called out to him. Adam turned and walked to meet a guy in a khaki flight suit coming out of one of the hangars.
“I do not have a death wish,” she muttered.
“Neither do I,” he called over his shoulder.
She waited until he finished his conversation and returned. “I’ve never flown in a private plane.”
“Good. I’ll be your first, and I’ll make it good for you.” The gleam in his eyes as he opened a door on the side of the aircraft was purely sexual. Her body responded accordingly, warming, moistening. She shook off the unwanted response.
“My father died in a plane crash.”
Compassion softened Adam’s features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I take good care of my plane and I’ll take care of you.”
She wavered.
“Statistically, you’re less likely to be in an accident in a plane than in a car. Climb in. Sit in the right front seat.”
Her feet stayed planted. “Adam, I get seasick.”
“Seasick and airsick are not the same. Trust me, Lauryn.”
He grabbed her cold hands and carried them to the warmth of his cheeks, sandwiching her icy fingers between his smooth-shaven jaw and his warm palms. And then he leaned in and kissed her. One gentle, coaxing caress of his lips against hers followed another and another until the beginnings of arousal edged the fear from her stiff limbs. She was on the verge of responding, of threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, when he lifted his head.