chewed on her plump lower lip—and the miracle happened. She nodded. “All right. But I’m likely to be late for work, so I need to call in first.”
“Do it.”
She got out her phone. He turned and went to wait by the stop sign, giving her privacy. A minute or two later, she came up beside him. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Ever the gentleman, Jax opened the door for her. Aislinn went through reluctantly.
The receptionist gave her a too-bright smile as they passed her desk. In the conference room, Burt glared at her and Erma nodded, giving away nothing.
Kip Anders said, “Aislinn. Excellent,” as though she’d done something wonderful. “Anyone care for more coffee or whatever?” When no one moved toward the credenza for a refill, he straightened his stack of papers. “All right, then, let’s continue.”
Aislinn sat down and tried to ignore the frantic racing of her heart. Her hands were shaking. She folded them tightly in her lap to keep them still.
“A few important points.” Kip sent them each a cool smile. “As you will see when you go over your copy of the will, Martin instructs that the wedding must take place within a week from today, and that it must also be ‘more than in name only.’”
“What does that even mean?” Aislinn asked furiously.
“And how do you enforce it?” asked Jax.
“It is a gray area,” Anders replied. “In Oregon, there is no requirement for consummation by sexual relations. That means you will be legally married once you’ve acquired the marriage license and said your vows before a recognized official—be that a clergy person or a representative of the court. To be married ‘in more than name only’ in this case will include getting the license, going through with the ceremony and living together at Wild River for the full three months during which you must remain true to your marriage vows.”
I’m not marrying anyone, Aislinn thought with vehemence. But she pressed her lips into a thin line and kept quiet for once. Her embarrassing long-ago crush on Jax aside, she considered him a good man. She liked him and she didn’t want to mess him over. That ranch meant the world to him. She couldn’t quite bring herself to outright refuse to help him keep what he wanted the most. At least not right now, not yet.
She needed to think it over.
And she would. After she met with her brothers and they confirmed that this story about Martin Durand being her father had to be a complete fabrication. First and foremost, she needed to reassure herself of the truth from the ones who had been there in Montedoro at Villa Della Torre on the night she was born.
The lawyer said, “To further clarify, after the marriage ceremony, you two must be sexually monogamous for the required three months. You will cohabitate at the ranch house at Wild River. Martin has arranged for someone from Kircher and Anders to drop by randomly in order to confirm that you continue to live together for the entire three-month period required by the will.”
“I hate to speak ill of the dead,” muttered Aislinn, because she had to say something, “but that old man was a terrible, awful, horrible person and I sincerely hope he is rotting in hell.”
Burt grumbled something under his breath at that. Erma stared straight ahead. Jax only gave her a sympathetic glance and a one-shouldered shrug, as if to say, Yeah, I loved him, but I see your point.
Kip Anders went on to explain that after the wedding, he would need a copy of the license to prove they had met the requirement of marrying within the week and to begin the countdown to the three-month time limit.
At eleven forty, Kip Anders finally walked them out to the waiting room, where the receptionist gave each of them a blue folder containing copies of Martin’s infuriating letter and the will. Tucked in the front pocket of each folder was a contact sheet, which included a secure online address where they could access an electronic copy of everything in the folder.
On the list of contacts was the phone number and address of the Seattle private investigator Martin had hired to find Madison and Paula Delaney.
Aislinn cringed just at the sight of the PI’s name. That Martin had hired the man seemed yet another proof that his story might actually be true—though it wasn’t.
Absolutely not. So what if Paula and Lloyd Delaney had once worked at Wild River and even had a daughter who grew up to be the Madison Delaney?
All that could be true. And Aislinn could still be a Bravo by birth.
Out on the sidewalk again, Jax sent Burt and Erma back to the parking lot to get their vehicle.
Then he turned to Aislinn. “I’m sorry to push you, but we don’t have long to get going on this. Can you meet me at the Marriage License Bureau tomorrow to get the license? Just name a time that works for you and I’ll be there.”
In spite of the panic that kept trying to claw its way along every nerve she possessed, she grinned. “Nice try.”
He looked so weary. And worried. “Aislinn—”
“No. Please. I can’t agree to anything right this minute.”
“When, then?”
“I need a few days, at least.”
“We don’t have a few days.”
“I’m sorry, Jax. I know this isn’t your fault. But it isn’t mine, either, and I need to figure a few things out. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Aislinn.” For the first time since they shook hands in the waiting room, he touched her. His long fingers closed around her arm. “Wait.” The feel of his skin on hers made her heart race.
She froze, looked down at where he held her, and then back up at him. “Let go, Jax.”
“Sorry.” He released her.
“I’ll get back to you,” she promised because she didn’t know what else to say. Whirling on her heel, she headed for her car, walking fast, half expecting him to try again to stop her.
But he didn’t come after her. She kept her gaze forward, never once looking back. She knew that if she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there, so tall and strong and proud, in good black jeans, town boots and a crisp white shirt, she would give in and agree to do anything he needed her to do.
* * *
Keely Ostergard Bravo’s gallery, Sand & Sea, two blocks from the beach on Manzanita Avenue in Valentine Bay’s historic district, had a profitable afternoon that day.
It was August, after all. The morning fog had cleared, leaving the sky a pure, endless blue. Perfect tourist weather on the Oregon coast.
Aislinn had relieved the manager, Amanda Cruz, who went off to run errands. Aislinn spent the next few hours dealing with a steady stream of customers on her own. That was fine with her. Staying busy kept her mind off the abject awfulness of all she’d learned that morning.
Amanda
