bow.
“Wait, Ernest. I’ll come with you. I want to talk to you about the clinic in Staunton.” Nick opened the door, but looked back at Clair. “I can’t wait long. I need a decision.”
Clair lifted her hand in answer to Fosdyke’s brief wave, and both men disappeared.
She shivered. What better revenge could she ever hope to take against Jeff Dylan? It was just that she’d decided before she came back home not to look for revenge. No one like the senator would ever take advantage of her again, but she didn’t intend to let anger turn her into a version of him.
She’d like to understand Nick before she thought about his idea. Marriage, an idea? A plan? Why didn’t he contest the will? She’d have dragged a worthless piece of paper like that through the legal system front-ward, backward and sideways.
Just went to show how different people could be. She fought back when someone tried to hurt her. Nick Dylan was willing to contort himself into a knot to come up with a compromise.
She laughed shortly. If she was willing to seriously consider his proposal, they weren’t so different after all.
LEOTA WAS CRYING. Nick heard her that night as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He followed the sound to the hall outside his father’s door. He’d tended to see his mother as the softer-hearted of his parents, but he’d never heard her cry.
He knocked, but he knew she wouldn’t ask him in, so he opened the door. Leota sprang up from his father’s bed. Gold and silver bracelets jangled on her wrist as she brushed her smooth blond hair from her face. Lying down had wrinkled her silk blouse and dark green trousers.
Baffled, Nick met her wild gaze. “Are you all right? Can I help you?”
“Are you here this time as my son or as a doctor?”
“Why not both? I’m concerned about you.”
“I don’t need a keeper. If you don’t like seeing me this way, go back to your house.”
“And leave you alone? Even if I weren’t your son, I couldn’t.”
“I don’t need your interference. I need time.”
“You’re suffering from pretty severe mood swings.”
“My husband has been dead for a month.”
“But you won’t talk about your feelings, and you aren’t in control of them. At least trust me. Talk to me.”
“How can I talk to you when you’ve always pushed us away?”
“I’ve pushed you?” She and Jeff had sent him to boarding school when he was eight. They’d disapproved of every major decision he’d ever made. Discussion had led to recrimination and finally, to silence. He rejected his own thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to air his grievances. Whether or not she would admit it, Leota needed help. At least he could offer a watchful eye. “I’m not pushing,” he said. “I’m asking you to put the past behind us and trust me to help you.”
“You think getting me to see a therapist will help,” she said sarcastically. “I need you to do what your father wanted. If you don’t get married, we’ll lose everything that matters to me.”
Nick hesitated. His marrying Clair would drive her crazy, but at least he’d decided to comply with the will. “You’re right. I have to get married, but you’ll have to trust me to choose the right woman.”
Leota wiped her eyes. “Thank God. Who are you thinking of? Someone I know?”
“You can’t choose a wife for me.” His parents’ choices had been part of his reasons for avoiding marriage so far.
He didn’t want to hurt his mother, but he couldn’t settle for one of the women she and Jeff had paraded past him since college, all beautiful, with bloodlines Jeff approved of. Prepared to love him for his name and the wealth he’d inherit. Clair suited him better.
“I’ve met someone.” Taking Leota’s arm, he led her toward the door. He turned off the light as they went into the hall. “I’ll introduce you to her before I make a decision.”
“You have to look at the rest of her family, too, if you want your marriage to last. What kind of people are they?”
Distaste chipped at Nick’s patience. Had she always been this way, or was she taking Jeff’s stand? “You don’t have to worry yet. Will you let me make an appointment for you with the therapist I told you about?”
“I’m all right now that I know we’ll be able to keep what belongs to us.”
Her relief wouldn’t survive the mention of Clair’s name. So Nick didn’t tell her. She needed to rest. “Try to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”
“I’ll be fine now.”
No matter what he did, he’d hurt someone. He couldn’t marry a woman he didn’t love and pretend he cared for her, and Clair was the only woman he knew he could trust to stick to such a ludicrous bargain.
CLAIR FOUND Nick’s office down a side alley on the opposite end of Main Street from Paul’s shop. No one sat behind the receptionist’s counter or in the waiting room. She knocked on the glass that separated the reception area from the back office.
Nick appeared in a corridor to the left of the desk. When he saw her, his mouth thinned, but he opened the door for her.
“I didn’t expect you.”
“You don’t have a receptionist?”
“She works part-time.”
A muscle in Clair’s cheek twitched. “I spoke to Angus Campbell yesterday.”
“Angus is a good attorney.” Nick led her down the corridor to a small, forest-green-painted office. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Soda?”
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t sure she could swallow. “Angus suggested you and I should discuss specific terms.”
He sat on the edge of his desk. She declined the chair he offered, because she didn’t want to sit at a lower level than he. It put her at a disadvantage. As if he understood the political byplay in her mind, he sat in the chair next to her. Recognizing they were finessing each other—and getting nowhere—she gave in and sank into soft, tufted leather.
“Two terms,” he said. “Marry me, and pretend you want to.”
She tried to picture him as a husband. A woman couldn’t glance his way once and forget him, even if his attraction had more to do with the passion that simmered just barely beneath the surface control. Tall and lean, he had a maleness that distracted her. She couldn’t think of him as the man he was and go through with the marriage he needed. “How much do I have to pretend?”
His smile emphasized his strong jaw. Clair pushed her fingers down the arms of the chair. She ought to put more distance between them.
“In front of other people we’ll touch each other. Occasionally.” He swallowed. Talking about touching
