Marrying for King's Millions / The Spanish Aristocrat's Woman: Marrying for King's Millions. Maureen Child
and she knew it. Visions of a bakery with her name over the door were dancing before her eyes. Then something else occurred to her.
“What about…”
“What?”
“You know.” When he just stared at her, she blew out a breath. “Sex?”
“Oh.” He frowned for a minute or two, then shook his head. “No problem. Married in name only. I swear. Trust me, I can resist you.”
“Gee, thanks. Don’t I feel special.”
“Besides, it’s only a year.” He said it again as if trying to convince not only her, but also himself, that they could do this. “How hard could it be?”
She hadn’t expected to get married again. Ever. Jean Claude ensured that she’d never trust any man that completely again. But this was different. It wasn’t as if she was going into this marriage all starry-eyed, expecting love to last a lifetime. This was business, plain and simple. And if she was going to do it, why not marry a friend? A man who didn’t expect anything from her? A man who was going to help her make her dreams come true at the end of one tiny, tiny, year.
“So what do you say?” he prompted.
“Okay,” she’d said on a sigh. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Idiot,” Julie said again the memory fading. She was back in the guest room, wearing an ivory wedding dress and trying to find a way to successfully chicken out.
“Damn it, Julie,” Travis implored from the other room and she heard the banked temper in his voice. “Open the damn door so we can talk about this.”
She shot a look into the mirror behind her and then tossed the lacy edge of her veil over her shoulder. Steeling herself, she took a breath and flipped the dead bolt. Travis opened the door a second later and moved into the room, closing the door behind him.
He looked amazing, of course. The bridegroom of every woman’s fantasy. He wore an elegantly tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and a bold red tie. His dark brown hair was swept back from his face and his chocolate brown eyes were pinned on her. In an instant, he looked her up and down. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” She looked the part of a bride, even if she didn’t feel like it. Her dark red hair was piled up on top of her head, with a few careless ringlets pulled free to lay against her neck. The lace-edged veil was elbow length and tickled her bare shoulders. Her floor-length gown flowed around her in a soft cloud of gossamer fabric. Strapless, the gown dipped low over her bosom and hugged her narrow waist. She knew she looked good—she only wished she felt as good as she looked.
“I don’t think I can do it, Travis,” she admitted and laid the flat of her hand against a stomach that was spinning and churning with nerves.
“Oh, you’re going to do it,” Travis told her and took her shoulders in a hard grip. “We’ve got a garden full of guests out there and the musicians are tuning up. Reporters are standing out on the drive and security just caught a photographer sneaking in over the paddock fence.”
“Oh, God….” He’d always been a favorite of the paparazzi. They followed him everywhere, taking pictures of Travis with whatever woman happened to be hanging on his arm. It just hadn’t occurred to Julie that now she’d be a photographer’s target. Her whole life was about to change and she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.
“You’re just nervous.”
“Oh, boy, howdy,” she said, nodding frantically.
He tipped her chin up, stared into her eyes and said, “You’ll get over it.”
“I don’t think so,” Julie said, willing her stomach to settle. “I’ve really got a bad feeling about this, Travis. It’s all so much…more than I thought it would be. This is marriage, Travis. Even if it’s only temporary, it’s marriage. I can’t do this again.”
He frowned at her. “If you think you’re backing out now, you’re nuts. A King wedding is big news. A King being stood up at the altar is even bigger news and that’s not going to happen.”
“Fine,” she said, snatching at his words desperately. “Then you dump me. I don’t care. I’ll explain that you’ve changed your mind and—”
“What’s this all about?” he interrupted and stared down at her.
Julie refused to be swayed by the soft brown of his eyes. Instead, she steeled herself, stomped across the room and pointed out the window at the elegantly decorated garden below. There were two hundred people, sitting in rented white chairs on opposite sides of a white carpeted aisle.
A minister waited at the head of that aisle in a gazebo draped in brilliantly shaded roses and a quartet of violinists were off to one side, playing classical music for the waiting guests. Farther in the distance, a white tent, strewn with yet more roses, awaited the reception party.
“That, Travis,” she said, swallowing hard against the ball of nerves jostling the black flowers of death in the pit of her stomach. “That’s what this is about. I can’t face those people and lie. I’m a terrible liar. You know that. I get blotchy and start to giggle and then it gets bad.”
“You’re making too big a deal out of this.” He strolled across the room, as if he had all the time in the world. “Think of it like a play. We’re a couple of actors, saying our lines then celebrating with a party.”
“A play. Great.” She threw her hands high, then let them slap against the cool silk of her gown. “The last time I was in a play, I was a strawberry in the fourth grade pageant.”
He sighed. “Julie…”
“No,” she said, repeating herself now and not even caring anymore. “I can’t. I’m really sorry, Travis.”
“Oh, well, as long as you’re sorry.” His mouth tightened up and Julie frowned right back at him.
“I warned you that I was no good at this.”
“You signed a contract,” he reminded her.
Yes, she really had. He’d put their little agreement into writing and one of a fleet of King lawyers—or was that a herd?—had notarized her signature. So technically, she was stuck. Emotionally, she was still looking for a back door.
“This was a bad idea.”
“So you said.”
“It bears repeating.”
“Maybe,” he said and took her hand in his. “But it’s the one we agreed on. So pick up your bouquet, we’ll go downstairs and get this over with.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
His eyebrows went straight up. “I believe that’s the first time a woman has gotten nauseous at the thought of marrying me.”
“First time for everything.” Julie looked out the window again and her gaze seemed to arrow in straight on her mother and stepfather. Her mother was worried. Not hard to tell even from a distance, since she was wringing the handle of her new purse. Her stepfather looked uncomfortable, tugging at the collar and tie strangling him.
They didn’t approve of what she was doing, Julie knew. But they were there for her. Supporting her. Her gaze slipped to the other side of the aisle where the King family took up the first two rows. There was Gina, pregnant and glowing, with Adam standing beside her, waiting to take his place as best man. Jackson, the youngest of the King brothers, was seated beside Gina and there were King cousins and aunts and uncles there as well.
Everyone was waiting on her.
But no pressure.
Beside her, Travis whispered, “Think of the future, Julie. Your future. In a year, you’ll have your bakery, I’ll have my distribution deal and everything