The Inheritance. Marie Ferrarella
a little.
Even so, he wouldn’t be considering this under ordinary circumstances. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances. He had Bethany’s welfare to consider.
The pint-size little darling had been the center of Rory and Lil’s world and had quickly taken over that spot in his. If even half the things that Lil had said about her childhood were true, there was no way on God’s green earth he was going to allow Bethany to fall into the hands of Lil’s uncle and aunt. Lil had grown up in a world devoid of love and caring. He wanted Bethany to have a happy childhood, not an emotionally deprived one.
If achieving that goal meant having to be friendly with a woman who hadn’t given him, or his family for that matter, the time of day in all these years, he was up to it. He could play the game and pretend, ultimately giving Megan Maitland exactly what she deserved. Nothing. All things considered, the charade seemed like a small price to pay for Bethany’s welfare.
Rafe shoved his hands into his back pockets, straining the jeans against his hips. Very slowly, he circled Greer, studying her intently. She looked a little skittish to him. He’d seen horses with that look, all spit and polish on the outside but ready to bolt at the first loud sound they heard.
The last thing he wanted was to have her fold on him when the going got tough.
Rafe drew closer to Greer, still scrutinizing her. He watched her face. “You’re sure about this?”
She knew it. He was waiting for her to back down. Confidence began to return. This wasn’t really any different than a merger or an acquisition.
Except that mergers and acquisitions never wore worn, tight-fitting jeans that caused her mind to lose its focus and her pulse to do funny things.
Blocking out the sight, Greer raised her chin defiantly.
“I’m sure.”
“Great, you’ve got yourself a houseguest.”
Rafe put his hand out to hers. When she didn’t take it quickly enough, he took hers and wrapped his tanned fingers around it, gripping firmly. To his surprise, the limp handshake he expected didn’t materialize. Instead, after a beat, his mysterious aunt’s emissary shook his hand as firmly as any man he’d ever made a bargain with.
A handshake said a lot about a person. Maybe there was hope for the woman yet.
Those same nerves she’d felt earlier began to waltz through her again, picking up the tempo until they could have been accused of doing an old-fashioned jitterbug instead. They were especially prevalent along her arm. The arm that was connected to the hand that had been swallowed up by his.
It was all she could do to return the pressure of his grip. She knew he’d respect nothing less.
Taking care not to pull her hand away from his too quickly and give Rafe the impression that she was leery of him, Greer extricated her hand as she tried to sort out any misunderstandings before they had a chance to mushroom out of control.
“You’re not going to be my houseguest, you’ll be staying with Mrs. Maitland. The estate has a great many guest rooms.”
The smile on his lips moved slowly until it lit his face. Rafe knew exactly what she was thinking, though she was doing an admirable job of attempting to mask it. He’d come across fear more than once or twice himself and he was able to recognize the signs.
“This engagement is just for appearances. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
She’d be the judge of that. Men who looked like Rafe Maitland were always dangerous.
“Do you mind if I ask why you need a fiancée?” She raised her hands before he had a chance to accuse her of backing down. “Not that I’m reneging, I just need a few details if I’m going to be convincing in this part.”
Rafe caught himself watching her mouth as she spoke and looked up into her eyes instead. Her choice of words amused him. Convincing. Now, that was something that could lead to a great many interesting things. If he were in the market for that kind of thing. A couple of years ago, he might have been. But his wild days and his wild oats were all behind him. They had to be. He had a good job, a future and a baby to worry about. Women were the last thing to occupy his thoughts.
But before he could answer her, there was a knock on his front door. The next minute, it was being opened.
The dark-haired woman with the snapping brown eyes and the easy smile who entered was obviously not worried about standing on ceremony, Greer thought as she turned to see her walk in. She had a baby with her comfortably resting on her hip. The baby had dark hair, like she did.
The familiar way the woman looked at Rafe made Greer think they had an intimate relationship. Was she his girlfriend? His mistress? And why was he asking her to pose as his fiancée when this spit-fire was part of his life?
Greer squared her shoulders, feeling suddenly dowdy and lifeless despite the designer suit she had so carefully selected for her trip out here.
The woman flashed a smile at him, then at her. “Sorry, Rafe, I didn’t realize you had company.”
To Greer’s surprise, she saw him reaching for the woman’s baby. Was the little girl his? Why hadn’t Mrs. Maitland mentioned that he had a child? It didn’t seem like the type of oversight she’d make, given how she felt about children.
Maybe Mrs. Maitland hadn’t known, she realized.
Greer had the feeling that she was slipping deeper down the rabbit hole. What she needed right now was a rabbit with answers.
He could almost see the questions in Greer’s eyes. She was chewing on her lower lip, as if to bite them back.
“This isn’t company,” he told the woman as he took Bethany into his arms. “This is Greer.” He figured it was enough of an explanation. Rafe brushed a kiss against the top of the baby’s head. “So, how’re you doing, honey? Did you have a good day?”
In response, the baby made a cooing noise and he smiled as if she’d answered him. He tucked her against him comfortably. The little girl contented herself with playing with the buttons on his shirt.
Taking the initiative, the woman stepped forward and took Greer’s hand in hers. Her smile was genuine even as she swept her eyes over Greer, making a quick appraisal.
“Hello, I’m Alyssa Martinez.” She inclined her head to indicate somewhere beyond the small ranch house. “I help my father with the cooking at the main house, when I’m not watching Bethany. She’s a regular pistol, this one.”
Greer returned the handshake before dropping her hand to her side. For a second, she couldn’t think of anything to say. Women like Alyssa Martinez had been making her feel inferior all of her life. Not deliberately, they did it just by existing. They were bold, vital, and everything looked good on them. So did nothing. Alyssa’s obvious curves, even beneath the peasant blouse and wide skirt she wore, made Greer acutely aware of her almost boyish figure.
Oh, sure, she worked out when she could find the time and that kept her body lean and toned, but it never coaxed forward any curves. For that miracle to occur, she would have had to have submitted to a surgeon’s scalpel and she wasn’t about to do that.
Besides, there was no one to do it for, so the point, even if she had been inclined to consider it, was a moot one. There was no one to make herself pretty for, no one to keep in mind when she shopped for clothes. The items in her closet were all tasteful and from the best stores, but they lacked imagination and color. She didn’t see the need for it.
“Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” Mrs. Malone had told her more than once while she was growing up. Mrs. Malone had run the children’s shelter where she had spent most of her youth, and the message had stuck that much more because Mrs. Malone had meant it to be kind. To prevent her from being set up for any future disappointments. “A girl has to know her limits, you know,” she’d firmly asserted.
And