Marrying Mr. Right. Carolyn Greene
were young and foolish.”
Christina had no idea why Greg had been attracted to her or asked to be her class partner. All she knew was that most girls with a normal level of hormones surging in their veins would have given their driver’s license for a date with the school hunk who was admired for the “six-pack” of muscled ridges that graced his firm abdomen and his ability to crack walnuts between his biceps and forearms. And yet she had married him.
And almost made love to him. She gave an involuntary sigh.
“We were as different as two people could be,” she continued.
“You can say that again.” Greg addressed Donald as he filled in the rest. “Our teacher, Mrs. Murdock, had agreed to let us pair up for our class assignment. She must have thought Christina’s good behavior would rub off on me and keep me out of detention hall.”
What would their teacher have thought if she’d seen how Greg’s sense of adventure had rubbed off on her?
“You still haven’t told me about your son.”
Donald looked disappointed, as he had every right to be. Surely he must think she had lied when she told him she was a virgin and wanted to remain so until a wedding ring—a real wedding ring—graced her finger.
“We had a pact,” he reminded her solemnly.
“It’s not what you think.” She would explain the details of their nonconsummated marriage later, but for now it was more important to set the record straight on the bigger issue. She hiccuped again. “Our so-called son was a rag doll and we were graded on how well we took care of it.”
“Okay, that issue is settled,” Greg said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. He tapped the papers impatiently against the palm of his hand. “Now let’s get back to the divorce.”
“Of course,” said Christina. “I’ll get you a pen.” Even though she had consciously known it would someday come to this, the finality of a divorce hadn’t hit until now. She handed him the pen, trying not to notice the hard calluses on his fingers or imagine what it might have felt like if he’d been given the opportunity to trace those calluses over the rest of her body so long ago.
“I’m not signing.”
“What?”
“I said I’m not signing.”
“I heard what you said. And I believe you also heard me say that Donald and I are getting married in two months.” She tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the panic out of her voice. “You have to sign those papers.”
“That would present a problem,” Greg said, shaking his head. “You see, I need you to perform a few wifely duties first.”
Stunned, Christina at first met his comment with openmouthed silence. She had seen that determined expression before, and it was obvious he was dead serious about his demand. A sudden urge to flee came over her. She could only assume this was fate’s payback for her having indulged in the fantasy of completing their wedding union each night as she drifted off to sleep. Christina backed away from the man who was threatening to wreck her life, stopping only when she collided with Donald.
Her fiancé put his arm protectively around her.
As she recovered from the shock of Greg’s demand, her emotions surged into anger. How dare he insult her with such a suggestion...and in front of her fiancé and his own girlfriend, no less!
“Oh, don’t worry,” Greg assured her as casually as if he were suggesting a walk through the park. “It’s not like you have to put your heart in it. All I need is for you to go through the motions.”
CHAPTER TWO
IN AN uncharacteristic response, Donald closed the space between them and grabbed a fistful of Greg’s white shirt and tie. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.” He enunciated the words carefully, as if he were Clint Eastwood in a Dirty Harry movie.
“You’re upsetting my fiancée.”
When Greg simply stood there and glowered down at him, Donald grabbed him by the arm and attempted to haul him to the door.
Christina couldn’t believe her eyes. “Donald, what are you doing?”
To her surprise, Greg disengaged himself from Donald’s grasp. Quickly. In a flash, he had the smaller man pinned against the wall.
“Greg, stop it now! You’re hurting him.”
“Oh, you lucky girl!” Trina squealed from behind her. “You have two handsome men fighting over you!”
Her comment seemed to make Donald squirm harder, which caused Greg to tighten his hold. “Hey, take it easy on my right hand,” Donald protested. “Those are my calculator fingers.”
Christina looked around for something to use against the man who had crashed back into her life. There was the crystal wine decanter on the counter, but it had been in her family for years and she didn’t want to risk breaking it. Her gaze swept across the kitchen table and fell on the tall wooden pepper mill Trina had been toying with earlier.
She picked it up and, holding it by the top, stepped closer to the two men. She waved it near Greg’s face, knowing full well she could never bring herself to hit him, no matter how much he infuriated her. “I’m serious about using this.”
He relaxed his hold slightly on Donald and turned an amused grin on her. “What are you going to do...pepper me with blows?”
Then, as if to show how unconcerned he was about her supposed threat, he turned his attention back to the man pressed against the flowered wallpaper. “Your calculator fingers? Are you an accountant or something?”
“A lawyer. But I want to specialize in accounting,” Donald said as casually as if they were having a business lunch. “For now, though, I’m starting out in general practice.”
Before Christina could work up a steam about being dismissed so offhandedly, Greg released Donald, who rubbed the circulation back into his hand.
“Really?” said Greg. “I’m getting ready to open a new business here in town, and I could use some help setting up my books. Not only that, I have this problem about the lease for the building...”
Before she realized what was happening, Greg had hired Donald as his accountant and legal advisor. The two men shook hands to close the deaL
It was as if they were now the best of friends. Christina doubted she’d ever understand men or their bonding rituals. “Donald, why are you getting involved with him? Have you forgotten what he just suggested to me?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, scratching his head. “That’s going to be a problem.”
“Actually I only need her for a month or so.” Greg straightened his rumpled tie and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “Could be less if the old lady is cooperative.”
“Excuse me, but this is not just another business deal you two are closing!” She situated herself between the men, placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Greg. “The ‘old lady’ is standing right here, and she’s feeling anything but cooperative at the moment.”
Trina looked up from the paper napkin she was folding into a tiny triangle. “You tell ’em, sister!”
Greg actually had the nerve to laugh. “You thought I was referring to you?” He heightened the insult by patronizingly cupping her cheek in the palm of his big hand. “The old lady I spoke of is the ninety-threeyear-old widow who owns the warehouse I want to rent for my new business.”
Christina turned her face away from his warm hand, trying not to think about the last time he’d touched her like that. She needed to get him out of her house—and out of her life. And the sooner, the better. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“I