CAHILL would have given anything not to have to deal with all the fuss and feathers that went with a society wedding. But Caroline had agreed to his unorthodox request to give him a child, and the least he could do was give her the wedding she wanted.
He could afford to be generous today, anyway, emotionally as well as financially. He’d just made a deal for prime land outside of Austin. Eventually the site would accommodate a mall that included an indoor children’s playground in an atrium, a library, conversation areas and athletic courts for bored husbands. Several of his peers had laughed at the notion, but he had faith in his plan.
One day his child would inherit a fortune in nine figures. He took great pride in that knowledge.
His child, he thought as he glanced around an office that looked like an eighteenth-century drawing room. Would he sire a boy or a girl? It didn’t matter, really. The child would be made up of his genes, and that just about guaranteed a good business head.
He wrapped his arm more tightly around Caroline, grateful she was willing to be part of such an unusual marriage. And for her “beautiful” genes, which their child would undoubtedly inherit.
She hugged him briefly and he held on, ignoring the small pinch of disappointment that tried to cloud his vision at these moments. They were good friends. He felt great affection for her. She didn’t want love from him. So why did his heart insist on reacting to the fact that it wasn’t there?
They had fun together, enjoyed each other’s company, but whenever they touched, he got that pinch, and though it didn’t deter him, it unsettled him.
“I’m telling you, Austin,” Caroline was saying, “we are so lucky to get Anna. She has a dozen other clients right now, but she’s taking us on because she and Camille worked together on that project for the hungry. You remember? We went to the dinner.”
And because she’s going to charge me a fortune, he thought, to fulfill all your wild ideas. She’ll probably be able to retire on what you have in mind.
He reached across a small desk to shake hands with this paragon. The woman was strikingly beautiful, if a man had a preference for brunettes. Personally, he’d sworn off them since Lauren. It was a senseless prejudice, he realized, but since he’d been unable to see what was inside his former fiancée and protect himself from her deception, it was a sort of defense mechanism to stay away from women who had her outward appearance.
Still, this woman had none of Lauren’s petite fragility.
She was five-seven or maybe five-eight, with a woman’s maturity in her breasts and hips. His mind took her out of the silky white blouse and cranberry suit and put her in black lace. Accustomed to Caroline’s slender, leggy proportions, he’d forgotten how much he’d once appreciated roundness in a woman.
She had eyes the color of dark ale, and rich, deep brown hair, bundled up in a knot at the back of her head. It was side-parted and glossy in the sunlight shining through the window, and he could imagine how glorious it would look if she wore it loose.
This was the kind of woman who should bear a child, he thought. One who seemed all warmth and soft curves.
Then he noticed that the expression in her eyes was pitying and sad. That snapped the moment back into place.
“Ms. Maitland,” he said, drawing his hand away, erasing his previous thoughts. “The pleasure is mine. Carrie has some pretty wild ideas. Do you think you’ll be able to accommodate them?”
She nodded. “All except the butterflies.”
He’d been against that one himself, though he hadn’t said much about it. He didn’t want to do anything to discourage Caroline from going through with their arrangement.
“We can manage without butterflies,” he said.
“Good. Then I’ll contact a costumer and an armorer first thing tomorrow.”
He wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly. “An armorer?” he asked.
“For the knights who’ll line the entrance to the church,” Caroline said.
Knights? “I thought you had a Regency period theme going? Carriages, maypoles…”
Caroline shook her head then rolled her eyes indulgently. “I told you about it last night in the limo, but you were reading stock reports and probably didn’t even hear me.”
He had to do better in that regard, he knew. He did tune her out sometimes because she tended to go on and on about details in which he really had no interest. He wanted a marriage in order to have a baby, but he didn’t care at all about the wedding.
“We’re doing medieval.” Caroline hooked an arm in his and winked at Anna. “I was thinking it’d be more dramatic, more exciting. We’re bound to get a couple of pages in Vanity Fair.”
“And that’s a goal of ours?” he asked wryly.
“I think it’s a given, darling. Austin Cahill is marrying Caroline Lamont. Two stars of Texas royalty getting hitched. Nothing cliché, nothing less than first class. Everything magical.”
God, he hated this. But he made himself smile. “Well, I’m sure you’ll make it spectacular. But…where are we going to find new armor?”
Caroline shrugged. “That’s Anna’s job. And afterward you can put it in the garden or something. Or I can take it with me. They’re bound to make spectacular conversation pieces.”
He had to grant her that. “Okay. Are we finished here?”
Caroline turned to Anna. “Can I call you as I get ideas and come up with questions?”
“Of course.” Anna handed Caroline a business card. “This has my cell phone, my e-mail and my fax.”
“Great.” Caroline tucked the card in a tiny lavender bag slung over her shoulder. Austin always wondered what was in there that could be important enough to carry around and still be small enough to fit in the four-by-four-inch space. She turned to him and giggled. “Anna thinks you’re medieval.”
Austin was surprised to learn that this beautiful woman had any opinions about him. But he was interested, also. “Have we met before?” he asked Anna.
She’d closed her eyes at Caroline’s statement, apparently in dignified mortification. She obviously hadn’t known Caroline long enough to learn that she expressed aloud every thought that came into her head.
Anna opened her eyes, and with a sigh and a fatalistic smile, she replied, “No, we haven’t. I…”
“She wanted me to save money on the wedding,” Caroline said, laughing, “so we could go shopping on our honeymoon, but I told her about our arrangement.”
He didn’t know why he should feel embarrassed in front of a wedding planner. Most of his close friends and several of his staff knew why he was getting married—they’d even suggested Anna as a consultant. Some praised his practical approach and others told him they thought he was crazy, but none of them had looked at him with such condemnation in their eyes.
“I didn’t realize,” he said a little stiffly, “that you were
