A Convenient Texas Wedding. Sheri WhiteFeather
forced to leave the country, we can’t keep it a secret any longer.”
She marveled at their savvy. “I’m impressed with how easily we came up with an explanation.” Within no time, they’d concocted a believable romantic backstory. “You want to hear something funny? When I was a teenager going to school dances and meeting local boys, I had daydreams about stealing away from Ireland and marrying an American man. I’ve been consumed with your country since I was a girl. I used to write poems to my fantasy husband, spilling my heart out to him.”
He touched her hand, ever so lightly. “Maybe you can incorporate that into the green card interview. The more we reveal about ourselves, the more authenticity it will lend to our case.”
Suddenly she was getting nervous again, overwhelmed that she’d actually agreed to marry him. “You don’t think it will make me sound foolish?”
“No. Not at all. And I’m glad that you’re already sharing personal information about yourself with me. We’re both going to have to do a lot of that. We’ll need to know each other from the inside out before we meet with Immigration and tackle that interview.”
She anxiously admitted, “The most challenging part for me will be lying to my family, calling and telling them that I met the man of my dreams. But the truth would be worse. They would never approve of a ploy like this.”
“My brother is going to be my biggest obstacle. It’s going to take a miracle for him to believe I’ve given up my bachelor ways and am capable of being a loyal husband.”
“I remember seeing him at Will’s funeral.” Although Rand and his brother didn’t look that much alike, they had the same mesmerizing mouth and sculpted jaw, coming from the same handsome genes. “His name is Trey, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Aside from our maternal grandmother, he’s the only family I have left. Our mother died a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely hurt that his ma was gone. She noticed the pain in his eyes. Had she misjudged him earlier when she suspected he’d been embellishing his confessions?
“How many immediate family members do you have?” he asked.
She concentrated on his question. “I’ve got my parents, one set of grandparents and a brother who owns a media company that’s headquartered in London. He divides his time between England and Ireland. Farming will always be in his blood. The Cartwrights have been in Kenmare for six generations.”
“Is your father a traditional man?”
“Yes, he is. Angus is his name, and he adores me like no other. He fusses over Ma, too. As much as I hate to say this, he’s going to be disappointed if you don’t call him and ask for my hand in marriage. But I would never expect you to actually do it.”
“Maybe I should, if it’ll make things easier.”
She nearly gaped at him. “Really, you’d appease my da?”
He glanced at a giant oak towering nearby. “I’d rather appease him than have him think that you’re marrying a guy who doesn’t respect his values.”
“That’s a good point.” She followed his line of sight to the tree, becoming aware of the tangled shoots creeping up its massive trunk. “He and Ma have specific ideas about marriage. They have opinions about everything. I love them dearly, of course, but sometimes they still treat me like a child. Ma is especially good at meddling.”
“My family rarely sticks their nose in my business. My dad did, but I wouldn’t call what he did meddling. With him, it was more like bullying.”
She felt badly for what he’d endured. Her parents wouldn’t dream of bullying her. Everything they did was out of tenderness and care.
“Does your father Skype?” he asked. “Maybe I can video chat with him to ask for his blessing to marry you.”
“Yes, he uses Skype. Ma does, too. So she will probably nose in on your talk with him and want to meet you, too. But before you contact them, I’ll have to call them and pave the way. They’re going to be stunned by my hasty marriage plans.”
“We’re going to shock everyone.” He paused, seeming reflective for a moment. “Do you still have the poems you wrote to your fantasy husband? Did you keep them?”
“No.” She was feeling reflective, too. “But sometimes I wish I would have. I’ve always been a fanciful girl. Too fanciful, I suppose.”
He searched her gaze, as if he was looking for something in her character that he’d missed, something he hadn’t seen before. Then, in a near whisper, he said, “I think we should kiss.”
She started. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Kiss.” He repeated, his tone a little huskier, a little more seductive. “We’re going to have to get used to kissing. We’ll be expected to do it at the wedding, at the very least.”
He was right. But with the penetrating look he was giving her, she was getting downright dizzy. She even gripped the underside of the bench, latching on to it with all her might. “You want to do it right now?”
He moved closer. “Now is as good a time as any.”
She filled her lungs with as much oxygen as she could get, preparing herself, trying to stay calm. He leaned into her, and her heart boomeranged to her throat, before it zoomed back to her chest.
Staying calm wasn’t possible.
As soon as his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes and asked the heavens to protect her. He invoked a carnal yearning in her, a spell he obviously knew how to cast.
He was good at this.
So very good.
An expert in every way.
The tip of his tongue teased hers, and she moaned like the sinner, the soon-to-be fake bride she’d agreed to become.
He cupped the back of her head and drew her even closer. He played with her hair, splaying his big masculine fingers through it, and she imagined making down and dirty love with him. The sex she refused to have.
Allison knew she was in for a rocky awakening, being tied to this wickedly delicious man. She tightened her hold on the bench. Only now she was using it to stop herself from putting her hands where they didn’t belong. If one little kiss could affect her this way, she was going to have to fight to keep from mauling him—every desperate day that she was his wife.
* * *
Rand wanted to push his tongue deeper into her mouth, to nibble, to bite, gobble Allison right up, but he was holding back, trying to keep their arrangement in perspective. She tasted wholesomely, sensuously sweet, like honey straight from the jar. In his hungry mind, it could’ve been oozing down their bodies in warm, sticky rivulets.
Before his zipper turned tight and he got unbearably hard, he opened his eyes and eased away from her. It was going to be hell restraining his libido around her. But she’d implemented that no-sex clause, and he had no choice except to abide by it. Rand needed a wife to clean up his image and try to save his job, but he knew better than to take advantage of Allison. He probably could’ve gotten one of his high-society lovers to agree to marry him, but he’d chosen Allison instead. And not just because he assumed that she might want a green card. Her sweet nature was part of it, too. He thought that marrying a good girl would help his cause.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he stared at her. Even with the way she’d moaned, with the soft murmurs she’d made, she still struck him as innocent. One tantalizing lip-lock wasn’t going to change his opinion of her.
She was still the same woman who’d been hurt by Rich Lowell, who’d been heartlessly used by him. He didn’t know what that bastard had said or done to con her out of her life savings. To Rand, those circumstances weren’t clear. But this wasn’t the time to ask.
She