guilt hit Dylan. Was it really such a sacrifice to marry her for a year? They got along pretty well, and it wasn’t as if he was dating anyone seriously. In fact, a convenient not-really-a-marriage with Kate would get his mother off his back about finding a nice girl. Now that three of her children were happily wed, Pegeen O’Rourke was even more determined to see the rest of them married off. It was something to think about.
“Earth to Dylan,” Kate intoned, jolting him back to the present. She dropped into a chair and rested her chin on her hand. “I’m hungry, how about you?”
“Right,” he muttered. “Hungry.”
A spicy fragrance rose from the large pizza inside the box, and they ate quietly for several minutes. Silences between them had always been comfortable and natural, but Kate’s earlier proposal had changed all that. He was crazy to even consider marrying a spoiled princess with the staying power of a soap bubble. Everything about her was delicate, from her golden hair and sea-green eyes to the arches in her small feet. She didn’t have a clue about the tough things in life.
Of course, if they did get married it wouldn’t be real. They’d be like roommates, with separate lives and separate beds. Legally, they’d end with a divorce, but as far as his conscience was concerned, it would be an annulment. A marriage that hasn’t been consummated isn’t a marriage in the first place.
“You aren’t having any hot pepper,” Kate said, shifting uncomfortably.
She couldn’t understand the peculiar expression on Dylan’s face or the way he stared at her. It wasn’t desire or affection—more like she had spinach caught in her teeth.
He shook the red pepper on his pizza and continued eating. She glanced around her cozy home and thought about what it would be like to share it with someone. She’d hate losing the carriage house because of Nanna Jane’s will, but it would be worse to lose her best friend. Maybe she should just tell Dylan she’d changed her mind and was giving up the estate.
Yet when Kate opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering about what might have been. It was hard enough having spent her entire adult life pining after a man who thought she was still a kid. So instead of saying anything, she bit into a second slice of pizza.
She wanted to be like Great-Grandfather Rycroft Douglas, who threw his hat in the wind and dug for gold in the land of the midnight sun. That’s where she wanted to spend her honeymoon, in Alaska, celebrating the rebellious spirit she’d inherited from him.
All at once the corners of Kate’s mouth turned down. If she married Dylan—and it was a big if—there wouldn’t be a real honeymoon. Darn it all. She didn’t know whether to be angry about the conditions in Nanna Jane’s will or grateful for the opportunity.
“What’s wrong, Katydid?” Dylan asked quietly. “Are you thinking about your grandmother’s will?”
Her startled gaze flew to his. “How did you…?”
“I can tell you’re unhappy about something, and that’s the most obvious cause.”
Well, she had been thinking about the will in connection to Dylan and what the future might bring. Her spirits lifted. He’d sensed she was unhappy. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was better than nothing.
Kate shrugged and drank the last of her milk. “I’m all right,” she said noncommittally. She knew enough about Dylan to know she couldn’t push.
He reached across the table and drew his thumb across her upper lip. Heat rose in her cheeks both from his touch and the realization that she’d left a thin line of milk on her mouth. Lord, what her grandmother would have said about such unladylike impropriety. Kate didn’t care about the impropriety, but she hated looking ridiculous. Yet Dylan’s dark eyes were curiously warm.
“Dylan?” she whispered.
For a long moment he just stared at her lips. The breath caught in her throat and a tingling sensation crept across her nerves. Was he thinking about kissing her, or just wondering what it would be like? She’d only thought about it a few thousand times, but who was counting?
“I…I’ve been thinking about what you said…suggested this afternoon,” he muttered. “If we do it, we’ll need to sign a prenuptial agreement. It should be clear when we end things that we each keep what we owned before the marriage. Your grandmother’s lawyers can draft the thing—they’ll probably insist on it, anyway.”
The hope cascading through Kate came to a crashing halt.
A prenuptial agreement?
That’s what he’d been thinking about?
“You think I’d try to take part of your business?” she gasped. “How could you even begin to think such a thing? I don’t want a penny of your money. That’s absolutely the most ridiculous, unbeliev—”
“Whoa.” Dylan clamped his hand over her mouth. “Dammit, that isn’t what I meant. Your grandmother’s property alone must be worth more than my construction business, not to mention your trust fund and everything else. I’d just want to make it clear that I’m not interested in your family fortune.”
Annoyed, Kate nipped the callused palm of his hand with her teeth. He yanked his hand away with a low growl.
“So you want to save your pride with a pre-nup,” she snapped. “Announce to the whole wide world that you don’t think our marriage will last. Shall we publish the details in the Seattle Times classifieds, or do you think a simple announcement to our friends and families will be enough?”
Frustrated, Dylan ran his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage, so what does it matter what everyone thinks?”
She gave him a baleful look.
If Dylan didn’t already know what mattered, he probably wouldn’t ever know. It wasn’t just wounded pride—though her pride was already plenty wounded—it was something more fundamental. Dylan was her best friend; she trusted him in ways she’d never trusted anyone. She didn’t want a prenuptial agreement because legal agreements were for people who didn’t trust each other.
Unfortunately, she needed a reason that a pragmatist like Dylan O’Rourke would accept.
“It has to look like a real marriage,” she said. “Or the lawyers will make trouble. A pre-nup might seem suspicious.”
Dylan frowned. “Won’t they want to protect you just in case? At the very least your father will insist on me signing something. I don’t think he likes me that much.”
A pang went through Kate. Her father wasn’t the protective type—sometimes she wondered if he remembered her name.
“I doubt it,” she said dryly. “Father and Mother are in Europe for a few months. I doubt they’ll even come back for the wedding.”
“Katy—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kate said hastily, not wanting Dylan to feel sorry for her. “But you should know that Grandmamma’s will says we have to live on the property for a year as husband and wife.” It was the truth, and she was quite certain her grandmother’s snooty lawyers would scrutinize the situation like a gaggle of gossiping old biddies.
