he reached for the driver’s door of his army green Jeep. Balking, she tried to dig her heels into the sun-warmed asphalt of the hospital parking lot
“Hold it, buster! I’m not going anywhere with you!”
“The way I see it, you got no choice.” He thrust her into the vehicle, shoving her over into the passenger side as he slid under the wheel. She made a grab for the opposite door handle, but he dragged her back with a jerk. “Sit still.”
“Listen, you—”
“Can it, sister. We’re going to talk, that’s all, and I want the shouting to take place out of earshot.”
She quit struggling. “Oh.”
He waited a moment more, then released her arm. “That’s more like it.”
Scooting into the corner as far away from him as she could, she sent him a resentful look. “I’m sick of your caveman tactics. You manhandle me again and you’ll be walking funny.”
Propping his forearm on the steering wheel, Gabe inspected her from her flowing mane to the slender but shapely turn of her ankles. Her legs weren’t half-bad, actually, he thought, and she blushed at his perusal and tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her shorts. Enjoying her squirming, he blessed her with a sour smile.
“Big talk from a gal your size. Want to try best-two-outof-three falls and see who wins?”
“That’s right, resort to brute strength when all else fails,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “It’s no more than I’d expect from your type.”
“Me? I’ve seen less ruthless behavior from a cobra! You want to tell me why the hell you told your grandpa that bald-faced lie?”
“You know why. You saw how he was,” she muttered. Then her eyes flashed blue-violet in the dusky light. “And you’re the biggest whiner I ever saw. I told you I’d give you the frontage property for doing this one little favor. What more do you want?”
Gabe rubbed his palms down his jaws and contemplated various forms of mayhem. “Not to be involved at all would be nice.”
“Why don’t you accept this gracefully?” She heaved a sigh at the glower he shot at her. “All right, I know I’ve taken advantage, but for a few hours of playacting, you get what you want as well as the satisfaction of sparing an old man needless suffering.”
“Don’t kid me that this is a selfless act. You’re getting something out of it, too.”
“I love my grandfather, not that you’d understand anything as simple as that!” she snapped. “You’re just mad because you’ve been outmaneuvered by a female.”
Gabe felt himself bristling. “Look, lady, I don’t know you or your grandpa from Adam. What if I’m the kind of guy who can say the hell with you and him, too?”
She was silent for a long moment, then spoke slowly, her voice husky. “I guess I’m betting you aren’t.”
That took the wind out of his sails. “Oh, hell.”
She spread her hands in appeal. “Please, Gabriel. I’m really desperate. You saw how happy the news made Gramps, how relieved he was. If I can give him that much before…”
She choked to a stop, pressing her knuckles to her lips. Gabe felt his anger slipping away, along with his resolve. Whatever he felt about this crazy scheme, it was clear she genuinely adored her grandfather. He felt a pang of envy. A woman who cared this deeply would be a prize to anyone she loved.
Rather desperately, he said, “But he wants to witness ‘our’ wedding. You heard him. Have the ceremony in his room, for God’s sake!”
Sarah Ann licked her lips. “We could fake it.”
Her words flabbergasted him, but it was the sight of her tongue darting over her lush mouth that made his belly tighten. Beset by the memory of her taste, he groaned silently and forced the feelings back.
No, he hadn’t been with a woman in a while, and no, he was not going to let an unexpected and unwelcome flash of sexual hunger further complicate this already muddled situation. Hell, he didn’t even like this little conniver!
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he croaked.
“It wouldn’t be that hard. We just need someone to play justice of the peace. It won’t be elaborate. Five minutes is all. Perhaps one of your friends—?”
“God, no!” The thought of explaining all this to Mike and Rafe made him shudder. Talk about looking like a fool!
“Then I’ll find someone,” she said. “There are always people looking to make a few bucks. And I’ll arrange everything else—the ceremony, the rings, the deed of transfer on the land—everything. So…will you do it?”
Feeling boxed in, Gabe rubbed his pounding temple. “I must be as crazy as you are.”
She leaned forward, hopeful. “Then you will?”
Gabe grimaced. In service to his country, he’d been a weapon, and an effective one, but he drew the line at killing old men with words—even truthful ones. So he would mangle his self-respect for a few hours to humor this eccentric female and earn a chunk of land for his trouble. At least his partners would be happy.
“Thanks to you, I don’t have much choice, do I?”
Her breath left her in a little relieved puff. Reaching out, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, a peace offering that made his skin burn through the thin knit of his shirt.
“Thank you.” In the gathering darkness, her whisper was breathless with gratitude. “You won’t regret it. It won’t take much time, and after it’s all over, I’ll never bother you again.”
With a prick of foreboding, Gabe wondered if that was a promise or a threat.
Three days later Sarah Ann walked toward Gramps’s hospital room, her seldom-worn dress pumps clicking against the polished tiles like an executioner’s drumroll. Though the corridor was chilly with air-conditioning, she was perspiring beneath her off-white linen sheath, a condition that could only be attributed to a bad case of prenuptial jitters.
Not that what she was about to do with Gabriel Thornton was in any sense real, of course, she told herself sternly. But for Gramps’s sake, even going through the motions had to look genuine.
At six o’clock she would meet Gabe and they would mouth words before a man she’d hired to play the part of justice of the peace. The cousin of a friend of one of her farm hands, he’d assured her he understood her need for discretion, that he’d meet them at the hospital room primed for his role, and that the ceremony would be “a piece of cake.”
That piece of out-and-out dishonesty weighed heavily enough, but the preparations for the actual ceremony itself, deciding what to wear—the plain dress, her mother’s pearls—and how to fix her hair—a French twist to control her waves—had produced an artificial excitement that tied her into nervous knots. She prayed that for the few minutes it took, she could play the part of happy, blushing bride without
