Chapter Two
“You want to pretend to be my husband?” Her incredulous tone was a mixture of amusement and indignation.
“Well, not pretend, exactly.”
“Then what exactly?” Her eyes narrowed and she stiffened beside him.
Adam sensed her instant withdrawal and silently cursed. Damn! He’d come at this the wrong way. What to do now?
He stood up, took a few aimless steps and then eased down on a corner of the old desk. He hoped he could handle the situation better if he wasn’t close enough to be aware of every breath she drew. Aware of her soft, womanly warmth. Now, he had to lay all his cards out on the table, and fast. Above all, he had to be honest with her. She wasn’t about to jump into anything with her eyes closed.
“It wouldn’t all be pretend,” he explained, not wanting to hold anything back. “I mean, we’d have to perform all the legalities and officially be husband and wife in case anyone decided to check for a marriage license.”
“We would go through a wedding ceremony and be legally married.” She tried to keep her voice even. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, but between us, Carolyn, it would be strictly a business arrangement that would be dissolved once the investigation was over. I’d be a husband to you in name only.”
“A business arrangement? A husband in name only? And how would that work, exactly?” She raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Well, in public we would have to behave like a congenial couple and—”
“Like newlyweds, perhaps?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. Leave it to her to put her finger exactly where the charade would demand more than she was willing to give. “We’d be playing a part, acting, pure and simple.”
“A few kisses and hugs between business partners wouldn’t mean anything. Is that the way it would work?”
“Exactly. It would be just for show,” he answered firmly, but as his gaze settled on her pink, kissable lips and the delicate curve of her cheek, he knew he’d have to keep his guard up every moment or he’d blow the whole charade. Everything about her luscious body invited a man’s touch. He felt a quiver of desire just thinking about holding her close and kissing her. He’d have to be damn careful not to let her know that he found her utterly sexy and desirable.
“And living arrangements?” she asked as if reading his thoughts. “I assume they would demand a little more playacting?”
“The Stanford mansion is large enough for us to have extreme privacy. We could have one wing of the house to ourselves. We would only have to interact with the others when we want their company.” He didn’t add that an important part of his investigation would involve getting close to Jasper and Della because of their positions in Horizon.
“You have this all figured out, haven’t you.”
“That’s my job. And I’m good at it,” he added without conceit. He already had an impressive record, working in Brazil and in the U.S.
“And how long do you anticipate this ‘business arrangement’ might last?”
“Hopefully just a matter of weeks. Once I have access to company files, I should be able to get the evidence I need to track the illegal shipments.” He paused. “There is one other thing, though.” He hesitated as if searching for the right words. “There could be complications if all this leads into a murder investigation of your grandfather’s death.”
“Murder investigation?”
“I told you that the hit-and-run was suspicious.” When he saw her lovely face whiten, he cursed himself for being so callous. That was one of the fallouts of being an investigator. You got hardened to things that made a normal person wince.
Her mouth trembled slightly as she asked, “You think the black-market drugs and his hit-and-run might be connected?”
“I don’t know, but I promise you I’ll do my best to find out.” He sat down beside her again. “Look, I feel like a heel pushing you like this, but if we’re going to set up this cover, it has to be now, before you move into your role as Carolyn Leigh Stanford. When you meet your uncle and the others living in the Stanford mansion, I’ll need to be there as your husband—a fait accompli, so to speak.”
“My…my uncle.” She stumbled over the term as if it had never crossed her lips before. “Do you know him?”
From the way her blue eyes widened, he realized that once again he was moving too fast for her. The idea of having a living relative must be as astounding as the rest of this situation.
“I’ve never met him,” Adam admitted, “but I know that Jasper Stanford is a man in his early fifties who’s lived with your grandfather for years. He’s a laboratory scientist at Horizon and has never shown any aptitude for the business side of the company. As I said before, he was a failure in his own ventures. Jasper was your mother’s only sibling. He was twenty-six years old and away at college when she ran away from home at sixteen. Their mother, your grandmother, died a few years after your mother, Alicia, leaving your grandfather a widower for many years.”
Adam paused, trying to decide the best way to explain the situation Carolyn was going to find under her grandfather’s roof and at the company. “Jasper’s girlfriend, Della, has been living in the Stanford mansion with her twenty-three-year-old daughter, Lisa, and her twenty-one-year-old son, Buddy. Apparently it was an arrangement that had your grandfather’s approval.”
What if I don’t like these people? Carolyn asked herself anxiously. And what if they didn’t like her? She felt her stomach tighten. She had plenty of memories where she was less than welcome, her presence tolerated only because of the money her foster parents were paid. The circumstances were different now, but one thing was the same. These people were going to resent her presence big-time.
“Were they mentioned in my grandfather’s will?”
“You and Jasper are the major beneficiaries. I’m sure that the contents of your grandfather’s will was totally unexpected, though, and your inheritance a great surprise to all of them.”
Was there a warning in his tone? She shivered. Too much was coming at her too fast. She needed a break. Quickly she rose to her feet.
“I missed my second cup of coffee at breakfast,” she said. “Would you care for a cup?”
The invitation wasn’t exactly full of warmth and hospitality, but he readily accepted and then followed her into the small kitchen. She motioned to one of the chairs at the chipped Formica table crowded into one corner.
“Cream and sugar?” she asked as she took a couple of mugs down from the cupboard.
“No, black.”
“Good, because I don’t have any cream,” she admitted with a wry smile. “Going grocery shopping is not one of my things.”
“Not mine, either. I knew we had something in common,” he added facetiously, hoping for a smile, but as she handed
