His Chosen Wife. Anne McAllister

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His Chosen Wife - Anne McAllister Mills & Boon By Request

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the way they are. But what were they going to say?”

      Ally couldn’t imagine. She knew what her father would have said. It wouldn’t have been pretty. She shook her head. She prowled restlessly around PJ’s living room, feeling off balanced. Awkward. Guilty.

      She’d never really considered how their whole marriage scene would play out for PJ. It had always been about her. Her needs. Her hopes.

      “Of course they wanted to meet you,” PJ went on. “They wanted to know where you were. What you were doing. When we were going to get back together.”

      Ally cocked her head. “And you said …?”

      “I said I didn’t know.” He lifted his shoulders, spread his hands. “I didn’t, did I? The truth.”

      Ally grimaced. The truth was supposed to set you free, wasn’t it? She didn’t feel free at all. She felt trapped, hemmed in.

      She picked up the softball on the bookcase and slapped it against her palm. “And now Cristina assumes I’m going to the family reunion with you.”

      “It’s a natural assumption.”

      “And what will they think when we get a divorce? They’ll have expectations,” Ally went on. “Cristina certainly has expectations!”

      “She likes you.” He still sounded almost surprised at that.

      Unaccountably, the thought made Ally bristle. “You thought she wouldn’t?”

      “Nothing Cristina does surprises me. But I didn’t know if she’d shut up long enough to find out anything about you. Cristina generally goes into every situation with both guns firing. My sister shoots first and asks questions later. I figured she would like you a lot if she gave you a chance. And apparently she did.” He paused. “What did you tell her?”

      “The truth.”

      “That you came for a divorce?” The edge was back in his voice, but he looked perplexed as he said it. “But she didn’t—”

      “I told her the truth about why we got married. About my meddling father. About needing to find myself. About not marrying Ken. About the legacy. I told her why you married me. She thinks you’re a hero.”

      A grin lit PJ’s face. “She said that? I wish you’d got it on tape. It won’t happen again in my lifetime.”

      “She’s very devoted. And far fonder of you than you might imagine. She was definitely protective.”

      “Bossy,” PJ corrected.

      “She loves you.” Ally envied him that familial closeness. She’d never had it. “What you did—she thinks it’s the most romantic thing she’s ever heard.”

      PJ laughed. “You put a spell on her!”

      “No. She put one on herself. I told her the truth—and she embroidered it to fit her view of the world.”

      “That’s pretty much Cristina in a nutshell. Still, you apparently handled her very well.”

      “If I had, she wouldn’t have assumed I was staying.”

      “Why didn’t you tell her that you weren’t?”

      “I thought it was your place to do that.”

      “Mine?”

      “Because you said we were married. I felt you should be the one to tell them we’re getting a divorce.”

      “I’m not. You are.”

      And they were back to that again, damn it. “All right, fine. That I’m getting a divorce! Anyway, I didn’t think you’d appreciate me announcing first thing that I’d come to get a divorce. And Cristina didn’t ask why I was there. She just assumed … and then she assumed some more. And more. And finally she just leaped to the conclusion that I’d be coming with you on the weekend.”

      “Imagine that,” PJ murmured.

      “You could have told her I wasn’t!”

      “But I want you to come.”

      “What?” She stared at him. “Oh, come on, PJ.”

      “Why not? It’s a family reunion among other things. You’re family.”

      “I am not!”

      “Legally, you are. And of course you should come. Let my folks meet you. See that you’re real. That I didn’t make you up.” He grinned.

      “Raise their expectations,” Ally muttered.

      The grin widened. “Save me from the clutches of Connie Cristopolous.”

      “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You can save yourself.”

      “I did you a favor once.”

      The words dropped quietly between them. An observation. A statement of fact. A reproach. All of the above.

      Ally wanted to rake her hands through her hair. Her fingers tightened on the ball, as if she would squeeze it to death.

      PJ didn’t say a word, just stood there, watched her. Looked expectant.

      Ally ground her teeth. “Damn you. I never should have come. I should have mailed you the damn papers.” She spun away and paced around the room, furious at having been trapped, knowing she had no choice.

      She sighed and tried one last time. “It’s a bad idea. Going out to your folks’ place will just make things worse.”

      “For who?”

      “For you! If I show up with you, they’ll expect us to be a couple after that. And they’ll be appalled when you tell them we’re getting a divorce.”

      He propped an arm on the mantel of the fireplace. “Why would I tell them that?”

      “Because we are! I am!” she said before he could correct her pronoun.

      “But I don’t want a divorce.”

      “Damn it!” She wanted to wring his neck. “Why not? And don’t tell me you’re so afraid of Connie Cristopolous that you want to stay married so your parents don’t try shoving her down your throat.”

      “Well, it is a consideration.”

      “I’m sure it is,” Ally said bitterly. “You’re just trying to be difficult.”

      He gave her a lopsided grin. “Not really.”

      “Yes, you are! I shouldn’t have come here. Not to New York. Not to dinner! And now I need to leave.” She grabbed her purse off the bookcase and headed for the door.

      PJ stepped in front of it. “Don’t be in such a hurry.”

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