Connor cocked his jaw to the left and crossed his arms, looking hard at the woman he’d married the night before.
No doubt a divorce would be the simplest solution.
He could let her go. Put a couple of his lawyers on it, have the whole situation resolved quietly and quickly.
She didn’t remember him. Them.
So really it would almost be as if the whole thing never happened.
Except he’d remember. He’d know.
Putting up a shrug, Connor made a decent show of nonchalance as he pulled the ace from his sleeve. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, if you need to talk, I’m sure Jodie and Tina would be happy to lend an ear. You’ve got, what, four hours to kill before they get their hands on another distraction?”
Megan’s startled gaze snapped to his. “Do they know?”
Oh, yeah, wifey wasn’t going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway.
“They know you and I left the bar together. And you didn’t come back to the suite you were sharing last night. So I’d say they know enough to make me the lesser evil on option this morning.”
“The lesser evil?” Her brow quirked, leaving her mouth to hint at the smile and laughter that had gotten them into this mess. “Wow, you sure know how to sell yourself.”
Making him want more.
“Don’t have to,” he said, crossing the bedroom. “Not when I’m up against those two.”
Her stare narrowed on him as she followed. “Fine. You win. Let’s play getting-to-know-you.”
Connor did his best to rein in the victorious grin working over his mouth, and swung open the bedroom door.
The master suite was situated at the end of the second-level hall, overlooking the main living space where marble and glass gleamed in contrast to rich jewel-toned fabrics, heavily carved wood and silk-covered walls.
Megan’s steps faltered, the shock on her face this morning even better than it had been the night before.
“So, Megan. The first thing you should know about me...”
“Uh-huh, yes?”
“I don’t want a divorce.”
* * *
“Just give it a try?” Megan asked, sputtering at the insanity of Connor’s suggestion, casually tossed out as he’d perused an elaborate breakfast spread in the dining room. “You’re crazy.”
Glancing up from the coffee he’d stirred a generous portion of cream into, he grinned. “Exactly what you said last night. Of course, there’d been a whole lot of breathless ‘yes, please’ tied up in ‘you’re crazy’ then.”
Her eyes rolled skyward. She could only imagine the circumstances. Didn’t want to imagine them. But couldn’t seem to help it. In fact, every time her gaze touched on those criminally captivating lips...she started imagining all over again. Imagining, but not remembering.
“Last night I was forty percent alcohol by volume. Last night doesn’t count.”
Another shrug. “It counts to me. And if you’ll sit down and have something to eat, I’ll tell you why it counts to you too.”
Handing her the coffee, he nodded at the tray of pastries, fresh fruit, cheeses and breads he’d brought to the table. “Trust me on this, you want the food in your stomach first.”
Connor selected a croissant, set it, a tiny ceramic crock of butter and another of jam on a china plate with a silver knife, and pushed it in front of her. “Eat.”
She looked at it warily, not really wanting to eat anything at all after the way her morning had begun.
She was nervous. Frustrated. And more than a smidgen concerned about Connor’s apparent commitment to this monumental mistake.
He didn’t want a divorce. She didn’t get it. It didn’t make sense.
“You don’t know me,” she began with a slow shake of her head. “Even if I’d talked your ear off from the minute we met until my little pilgrimage to the porcelain god...you couldn’t really know me. My beliefs, my hang-ups, my shortcomings.”
Connor heaved a sigh and met her eyes. “I know you wanted a conventional family, and I know, while you’re friends with the men you date, you’ve never actually fallen in love. Same as me, that fairy-tale connection people go after like junkies looking for their next fix isn’t a part of your makeup. I know you’re tired of making yourself vulnerable again and again, hoping each time things will end differently. And I know you’ve figured out what you really want is a child, and you don’t need a husband to get one.”
Okay, so maybe he knew her a little.
Megan sat back in her chair, watching this virtual stranger reach for her plate, rip a corner off her croissant, butter it and, as though he hadn’t just relayed her deepest secret and greatest failures, hold it out in offering.
“Eat, while I clear a few things up between us.”
Tentatively she took the bite, letting the flakes of rich, buttery pastry dissolve on her tongue.
“For the record, I’ve been interested in settling down for some time. But contrary to what the evidence might suggest, marriage isn’t something I take lightly or would jump into without serious consideration.”
When she opened her mouth to call him on that last bit, he lifted a staying hand and went on.
“Marriage is the foundation of a family, and I want mine to be rock solid. I want the security—for my children, and really us both as well—of knowing it won’t crumble under some needy, emotional pique or the whims of a fickle heart. So I’ve been waiting for a woman with a specific sense of priority.”
His brow pulled down as he stared at the table and then looked back to her with a knowing expression. “And before you start thinking I was just some man on the make last night, out trawling for a wife, I wasn’t. I wasn’t looking for anything but the good time we were having. And then, it just hit me. You were the one.”
“The one.” There was a whole lot of weight in that statement. More than she’d expected to be shouldering through this weekend trip to Vegas.
“Yes. Now, let me tell you how much I respect your plan to prioritize your child over the instinct to find a mate.”
She gulped.
Wow, if she’d told him that, she’d really told him everything.
“It takes time to build a relationship. If you have a child, it’s time you’ll be taking away from him or her. And what if it gets serious?” he asked, buttering another small piece of croissant. “You introduce little Megan to this guy, but then it doesn’t work out. Now you aren’t the only one who’s let down. It’s your daughter or son, as well. Plus, there’s the whole post-breakup emotional slump to contend with. No picnic for a single mom, or the little person more in tune with her feelings than anyone else on the planet. That this isn’t the kind of emotional cycling you want your child to go through says a tremendous amount about you. And, like I said, I respect it.”
He’d spoken casually, seemingly at ease, and yet there was an intensity about him as he relayed this bit of perspective on her plan that implied a level of empathy beyond what she’d expect.
A part of her wanted to ask him about his past. About his parents. Things she wondered if they’d discussed the night before. Only, to do so would open more doors, and she was already confused enough without adding images of this powerful man as a vulnerable child to the mix.
Connor reached out to offer her the next bite and she caught his wrist in her hand. “I don’t understand. If you respect my plan so much, how did we end up married?”
Those dark eyes held with hers. “Because what I offered you was the best of both worlds without the risk of the worst.”
“How?”
“Simple. This thing between us, Megan. It’s not about love.”
Her chin pulled back as she absorbed the words. Felt them wash through her with the same kind of phantom familiarity she’d been experiencing on and off with Connor since she’d woken in his bed. Only, this time, something about it wasn’t entirely comforting. Almost like a piece of the puzzle that was her missing experience had been put into place s
ideways and didn’t quite fit.
Maybe it simply wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, though why not, she didn’t know. Surely she hadn’t believed this man who married her within hours of their meeting had fallen in love with her. Talk about crazy. Still, somehow hearing him say it left her feeling...confused.
So she asked, “If it’s not about love, then what?”
Connor gave her a satisfied grin. “All the vital components that make a relationship successful, without any of the emotional messiness to drag it down. It’s about respect, caring and commitment. Shared goals and compatible priorities. It’s about treating a marriage like a partnership instead of some romantic fantasy. It’s about two people liking each other.”
Liking each other. What this man was suggesting was what she’d had in most every relationship she’d attempted. With one major difference. In those relationships, neither she nor the man she’d been dating believed it was enough. Whereas with Connor... “So, you’re saying it’s about expectations. If we limit them, no one’s disappointed.”
“Embrace them,” he corrected, “because they work for us.”
She nodded, saying the words slowly. “A partnership.”
Of course, this man wouldn’t want anything more from her.
He frowned as he met her eyes. “I’m not talking about some relationship without any caring. I’m talking about improving on friendship. Without turning it into something neither of us is capable of delivering on.”
“If what you’re looking for is a friend, surely, Connor, you must have hundreds to choose from. Women you know better. Trust more. Women who want this.”
Connor stared at her a moment, considering his words before he spoke them. “But I want you. The truth is, there isn’t another woman I know better. At least not as it applies to core beliefs and priorities. You didn’t have some ulterior motive when we met. You didn’t know who I was or what I had or what you thought I wanted. In fact, from the start, the most consistent thing about you has been your unwavering honesty, even when it didn’t suit your needs. I got to know the you who didn’t want a relationship. I like what I’ve learned about you, Megan. The independence. The sharp wit. The easy laugh and intelligent conversation. The authenticity.
“Sure, the historical events that made you the woman you are today are still a mystery, but what you want and who you are and how we get along... Those things I know. I like.”
She swallowed. “Because of last night.”
It didn’t seem enough.
“Last night. This morning. Right this minute. I like what I see.”
“So even if I am the kind of woman you’re looking for...”
“The woman.”
She nodded, feeling more uncertain than she had since waking with no memory. “What makes you the man for me?”
“I can take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he said, that wry twist in motion again. “It’s one of the many, many things I appreciate about you. You’re independent and self-sufficient. Your happiness won’t be contingent on the amount of attention I can give you any given week. But as fully capable as you are, my support would allow you to be more than a single parent, with a single income. Married to me, you can be a full-time mother instead of a slave to the workforce. You can work or not work, whatever you choose. I have housekeepers, so any time you want to yourself won’t be spent scrubbing grout. My work requires travel. You and our children would be encouraged to accompany me. You could see the world. Meet new people. There would be little, if anything, tying you down beyond the few expectations I have for my wife.”
The muscles along her shoulders pulled tight. “What expectations?”
“There’s a significant social element in my business, and I want a wife who can help balance the conversation. Playing hostess and accompanying me as needed for whatever comes up. Dinners, parties, charitable events. No more than a couple times a week. Also, our children—as many as you’d like—come first. They need to be your number-one priority. And lastly it means respecting both me and our marriage vows.”
She understood. “Fidelity.”
“Fidelity.”
No surprise Connor wasn’t the kind of man to sit idly while his wife entertained herself with the golf pro from the club, but within the marriage...
Her eyes drifted to where her hand was wrapped halfway around his wrist. She’d been touching him all this time, and yet this was the first moment she’d been aware of the low charge running between them. Meeting his gaze, she could see in those dark pools an answering awareness of that connection.
Her breath caught.
“You won’t be lonely with me, Megan. I know what I’m suggesting doesn’t follow the norm. It’s not the traditional courtship and promise of love. But we aren’t the most traditional people.” Reversing her hold, he took her hand in his. “We have something good. All I’m asking is for you to give it a chance.”
A chance.
She believed it could be good. Which was part of the problem. Because something good would be hard to lose.
And she’d lost so many times already. It was why she’d come up with the plan. No more waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hoping for something that would never come.
Except with Connor, love wasn’t part of the equation. He simply wanted a partner. Someone who understood his priorities the way he understood hers.
He wanted to be another parent for their children.
As many as she wanted.
She’d always dreamed of a houseful of kids. But when she’d decided on the plan, she accepted in all likelihood there would be only the one. And one had been enough.
But what Connor was offering wasn’t about just enough. He was offering her more than she’d believed she could wish for.
Still, the risk remained, reduced as it may be.
What if she got attached—let herself believe in a family—and he changed his mind? Left.
She couldn’t go through it again.
“I need to think,” she said, pushing back from the table and walking to the glass doors where the Vegas sun beat down, brutal and beautiful all at once, over their private oasis.
Moving in behind her, Connor rested his hands over her shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the tender muscles at either side of her spine. A part of her wanted to shrug him off, tell him to give her the space she asked for. But a bigger part recognized the act as an example of the kind of support he was offering. A subtle reminder she would not be alone. There would be someone behind her.
“I get it, Megan. I do. You don’t remember and it’s scary to take my word on something so huge.” Then it wasn’t merely the touch of his hands she was experiencing, but the press of his body along hers. His chin rested atop her head, his chest at her back as he continued rubbing the tension from her neck...and all she could think was how right it felt. “So I’m not asking you to believe in me right now. I’m asking you to believe in yourself.”
She turned in his arms, her hands coming to rest on the planes of his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the word. “Believe in myself?”
Connor brushed his knuckles against her temple, soft and light.
“You married me. Don’t you want to find out why?”
CHAPTER SIX
SHE’D AGREED.
Connor couldn’t quite believe it himself—and yeah, yeah, it wasn’t exactly the whole nine yards...more like a conservative six and half by his estimate—but Megan was spending the day with him. Giving him a chance to convince her of what kind of sense they made.
Which meant he was going to Gail’s wedding. Fortunately, a Vegas-style seating chart had more to do with who got to the bar first than which great-aunt was too blind to figure out she’d scored a table by the kitchen.
Pouring another coffee for himself and a glass of juice for Megan, he listened with half an ear as she checked in with Gail. She’d barely gotten past hello before a suspicious
silence, followed by some stuttering and then more silence, confirmed what he’d known from the start. Jodie and Tina had been running at the mouth, probably since Megan and he took off the night before.
“I did stay with him... Of course I’m fine, but that’s not—Gail, you’re getting married today— Yes, he is very handsome...”
This was the difference between men and women. When Connor texted Jeff to let him know something had come up and he’d get in touch next week, the guy had texted back a single word. Later. End of discussion. Granted, it might have gone longer if he’d mentioned the something in question was an exchange of vows, followed by a case of acute amnesia...but whatever.
“I know it’s not like me... No, there weren’t drugs involved—Stop! Gail, today is about you. When should I come by to help?”
Walking the juice over to the table, he set it down by her hand, running a thumb over her shoulder to make sure she saw it.
Then, covering the small of her back with his palm, he leaned close to her free ear. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Her eyes were wide when she turned slowly to look at him, and pure masculine satisfaction surged through him at the obvious impact his actions had spurred.
She wanted to be convinced.
“Wait, what?” she asked, her attention firmly back on the call at hand. “You don’t want me—?”
Connor looked up, curious.
“Because of Jodie and Tina. Right... No, no, anything to make this day perfect for you.”
She sounded uncertain but resigned. “Well, I’ll see you down at the limo, then. And, Gail—could you get my bridesmaid dress sent over here?”
After a few more details were exchanged, Megan hung up and turned a hesitant smile his way. “Good news. We’ve got a few more hours to get to know each other.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Gail doesn’t want to deal with Jodie and Tina while she’s getting ready, and she can’t have me if they aren’t there, so we’ll all meet at the limo when it’s time to go.”
“Come on over here,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.