a generation that believed in taking care of women. I’m his only family and he wants to protect me.” She gave him a long look. “You come from a big family and you’re very close to your brothers. That’s another reason why I’m coming to you with this plan. You understand family loyalties.”
“I do,” he admitted with a nod. “In fact, that’s the one part of this whole thing that I totally get. I understand your grandfather’s motivations. What I can’t figure out is why you’re willing to play along with his plans.”
She smoothed her palms over the skirt of her cream-colored tank dress and tugged at the hem, but couldn’t get it to reach the tops of her knees. “Because I love him. I don’t want him to be worried …”
“… And?”
He was right, there was more. Quite a bit more.
“And, once I’m married, as I said, I’ll come into my trust fund.”
“Ah,” he said, with a small smile. “And by marrying me, you don’t have to worry about your new hubby making off with your money.”
“Exactly.” She returned that smile and felt a bit of her nerves slide away. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you got past the weirdness of the conversation.
“And again, how long would this marriage last?”
“I think two months should do it,” she said, warming to her subject now that they were talking specifics. She had been working on this plan for weeks now and in her mind, at least, it all worked out perfectly. And so far so good. Sean King was still sitting opposite her. He hadn’t said yes, yet. But, he hadn’t walked out and he hadn’t said no—precisely. “It’s long enough that my grandfather would be convinced we at least tried to make it work.”
“And once our marriage ‘fails,’ you think he’d stop trying to marry you off?”
“I think so,” she said, chewing at her bottom lip as she considered it. “I hope so,” she corrected after a minute or two. “But basically I’m tired of fending off men trying to buy my grandfather’s goodwill. Besides, this is my only chance to get my trust fund my way. Well, mostly my way. I’ll still be married, like Grandfather wants, but it will be a husband I choose and the kind of marriage I want.”
He shifted in his chair and the breeze ruffled his black hair, lifting it off his forehead. He was still listening, so Melinda hurried on.
“Like I said earlier, if you agree, we’ll get married and stay married for two months. I’ll get my trust fund. You’ll get your land. And then we’ll both get a divorce.”
The waiter showed up just then, so whatever Sean might have said would have to wait. Impatient now, sensing that just maybe he was beginning to come around, it seemed to take forever for them to order their meal. Finally, though, it was done, and they were alone again.
“So?” she asked. “What do you think?”
That was easily enough answered. Sean was still fairly sure she needed medication.
And yet … He draped one arm over the back of his chair and studied her.
Warm night, cold wine and a beautiful woman sitting across the table from him. In Sean’s world, that sounded just about perfect. His gaze swept up and down Melinda Stanford, from the thick black waves of her hair to the blue-green stones glittering at her ears to the dip in the neckline of her dress, to the shine of her manicured nails. She was gorgeous. No doubt. But she was also complicated. And maybe crazy.
Still. Didn’t mean he couldn’t consider her proposal. In fact, he’d spent the last few hours doing just that.
Her grandfather, Walter Stanford, had shut down every deal the Kings had proposed over the last few months. Walter hadn’t been interested, no matter how high their offers had gone. Either the old man seriously didn’t need the money or he was as crazy as his granddaughter. But as soon as that thought entered his head, Sean discounted it. The old man wasn’t a loon.
He was crafty.
Walter knew what he wanted and wasn’t willing to settle for less. How the hell could a King of all people resent that? The King family did the same thing. They never took no for an answer and never gave up on something they wanted.
Sean smiled to realize that he and ol’ Walter would probably get along great.
“What’s so funny?”
“What?”
“You’re smiling,” she pointed out, managing to look both gorgeous and offended. “I asked what was so funny?”
She was insulted, Sean realized and he couldn’t really blame her. No doubt she thought he was laughing silently at her well-presented offer. And as he considered the fact that it was so well-presented, he had to wonder if he was the first man to receive this weird proposal.
“How many times have you tried this?” he asked, leaning toward her so he could keep his voice down. Tables on the patio were few and the other diners sparse, but it paid to be careful.
She frowned slightly. “You’re the first.”
“Why? Why pick me?”
“I told you. I checked you out.”
“Yes,” he said, “but you’d already decided that I would be the lucky winner or you wouldn’t have bothered doing your research.”
She chewed at her bottom lip, and he wondered if it was nerves or just a habit. Then she reached for her wineglass and took a long sip. She set the glass down again before saying, “I knew my grandfather was talking to you. He kept me posted on the negotiations between him and your family. He told me that you had taken over from Lucas and not long after that I saw a picture of you, okay? And you looked … nice.”
“Nice?” he repeated, appalled at the idea. “Old maid schoolteachers are ‘nice.’ Puppies are ‘nice.’ Ice cream on a hot day is ‘nice.’ Men, especially Kings, are not nice.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, “I’m getting that.”
He’d never been called nice in his life. Funny. Handsome. Smart. And by some, he admitted, cold. Closed off. But never “nice.” What picture of him could have possibly given her that impression?
“Where’d you see this photo?”
“It was in one of those celebrity magazines they sell at the grocery store.” She flushed when she said it, almost as if embarrassed to admit she read the damn things. But millions did, Sean knew.
“You were at a football game with one of your brothers—”
Sean nodded. “Lucas,” he provided, remembering that shot of him and his brother at a pre-season game. If his secretary hadn’t shown it to him, he would have been unaware of it. He never paid attention to the photographers who were always ready to take pictures of the King family. It was just part of being who he was. Nodding, he said, “We hit the first pre-season game together every year.”
“Well, in the picture, you were
