But Not for Me (Silhouette Special Edition) Page 11

  With that small encouragement, she knew she could trust him to discover for himself how his old beliefs had limited and narrowed any possibility he might have of finding happiness.

  Chapter Seven

  Brad gave up attempting to sleep and pushed back the covers. He’d been tossing and turning most of the night. He’d checked his watch every half hour since three, wishing either he’d fall asleep or dawn would arrive.

  Now that the sky had begun to lighten, he would get ready for the return trip. Brad didn’t want to think about his plans before they boarded the plane. He’d committed himself. He would stand by that commitment.

  He refused to look past the ceremony. Rachel was far from a stranger. There was no reason for him to think she’d turn into someone else as soon as she became his wife.

  My wife. He’d never thought he would use those words. He’d sneered since he was a kid at the idea of being trapped by some woman. Brad felt that he had been the one setting a trap. So why did he feel he’d betrayed himself?

  He stood in the shower and allowed the comfortably warm water to soothe him. He’d wear his suit today and the shirt stashed in his briefcase. He wanted to show Rachel respect.

  He wasn’t sure that marrying her showed her much respect. She deserved a loving husband and a family. He was incapable of one and against having the other. He knew there was nothing fair about this arrangement. He had all the perks lined up on his side—she would remain at the company and she would go home with him every evening.

  She’d be in his bed every night.

  His body immediately responded to that thought, which irritated him.

  Brad turned off the water, dried himself and dressed, once again blocking his thoughts about the day ahead of him.

  “I don’t think you’ll have any problems with Mrs. Crossland,” Brad said to Carl on the way to Asheville later that morning. He stayed focused on the reason for his being in North Carolina.

  “Hey, boss man, it was a stroke of genius to convince her she needed to be with her husband,” Carl replied.

  Rachel sat directly behind him in the Jeep. He couldn’t see her, although he was fairly sure that Carl was communicating with her in some fashion through the rearview mirror. He was tempted to turn around and look at her, but couldn’t think of a rational reason to do so.

  She had gotten up early this morning and appeared fully dressed—in her suit, a new blouse and her office shoes—in the kitchen area not long after he’d poured his first cup of coffee. She appeared to be relaxed and well-rested.

  He’d waited for her to say something to Carl about their plans, but she hadn’t. He’d intended to tell Carl first thing but somehow hadn’t been able to figure a way to drop the subject into the conversation. The very last thing he wanted was a big deal made over their plans. Obviously, Rachel felt the same way, since she’d given no indication that today was different from any other.

  Now that they were on their way to Asheville, he’d expected to feel more relaxed. Well, he’d been wrong.

  His dad’s voice echoed in his head, voicing his contempt for marriage and all it stood for. Brad had grown up listening to his father’s caustic and often witty remarks about the institution of marriage. Who wants to live in an institution? was one of Harold’s favorite sayings.

  Brad reminded himself for the umpteenth time that his marriage was more of a business arrangement. Even he doubted his own explanation. If this was about business, why did he keep remembering how Rachel had looked with her beautifully shaped breasts exposed to his gaze; how her mouth had fit so well with his; how supple and responsive she’d been in his arms?

  More annoying than that, why had his body been in a state of semi-arousal ever since?

  Rachel tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head.

  “Carl’s asked you three times if you intend to contact Mr. Crossland,” she said crisply near his ear.

  He glanced at Carl who kept his eyes on the highway. “Oh! Sorry. I guess my mind has already hopped ahead to Dallas.”

  Brad spent the rest of the trip to Asheville discussing some of Mrs. Crossland’s proposed changes and how much they would cost. He found the discussion soothing until they approached Asheville and he knew he could no longer put off giving Carl their new destination.

  Brad cleared his throat twice before he said, “We’re not going directly to the airport, Carl.” He recited the address of the courthouse. “Do you—uh—know where that is?”

  Carl squinted thoughtfully. “It sounds like it would be near the courthouse.”

  “You know where the courthouse is?”

  “Yeah,” Carl replied.

  “You can drop us off there. That’ll be close enough,” Brad replied feeling as though he’d been given a reprieve.

  The three of them remained silent until Carl pulled up in a no-parking zone directly in front of the county building. “You want me to wait for you?”

  Brad stepped out and helped Rachel get out of the back seat. “That won’t be necessary. We can catch a cab to the airport later.”

  Carl gave him a quick salute. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, boss. I’ll be talking with you.”

  Brad waited until Carl pulled back into the morning flow of traffic before turning toward the courthouse.

  “You do that a lot, you know,” Rachel said quietly.

  Brad looked at her and frowned, wondering what he’d missed in this conversation. “Do what?”

  “Rescue people.”

  “I wasn’t rescuing Carl,” he said, feeling defensive. “I was saving the project. This trip was strictly business.”

  “Ah,” she said as though she were receiving instructions. “And marrying me is just another business matter, is that correct?”

  He eyed her uncertainly for several seconds before he asked, “Are you offended?”

  She smiled, her eyes sparkling with what he hoped was amusement…although he wondered what she might find amusing about their conversation.

  “Not at all,” she answered lightly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  He attempted to cover his sigh of relief as he took her elbow and led her up the steps. Once inside the clerk’s office, Brad realized that he hadn’t given enough thought to the information that might be requested on an application for a marriage license, not until he heard Rachel giving her mother’s full maiden name as well as her father’s name to the woman helping them.

  He gritted his teeth and waited his turn for the inquisition. When the woman asked for similar information from him, he gave the answers tersely, refusing to look at Rachel. As soon as they were finished and the license had been issued, Brad asked the clerk where they would find a judge available to marry them.

  They followed the smiling woman’s directions, her good wishes echoing behind them, and eventually found the office of a justice of the peace. Brad explained that they were visiting the state and hoped to marry as soon as possible. Whether because of his nervousness—his hands were damp and his jaw muscle kept twitching—or Rachel’s calmness, the justice appeared to accept that they were serious about wanting to marry.

  Brad was surprised to discover that the legalities of marriage were simple and straightforward. They were quickly pronounced husband and wife and he was invited to kiss his new bride.

  He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth before thanking the justice for his assistance and paying him for his services. As soon as they left the office, Brad took Rachel’s hand and strode down the hallway, eager to get out of the building that seemed to mock him.

  Once outside, he paused at the top of the steps and looked around. “Thought there might be a taxi stand nearby.”

  “Perhaps we should call one,” Rachel suggested.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. After connecting with directory assistance, he managed to get the number for one of the cab services in town, called and requested a ride to the airport.

  While they waited f
or their cab, Brad paced. After he passed her for the third time, Rachel asked, “Is something wrong?”

  Her voice sounded so normal, the way she always sounded—that hint of private-school polish her mother had passed on to her rounding her vowels.

  He stopped in front of her and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “I did this all wrong,” he said gruffly, feeling like the worst kind of fool. “You deserved better than this. I could have gotten you a ring, and maybe planned some kind of party or something.” He waved his hand vaguely, knowing he sounded ridiculous.

  She smiled, that serene smile that invariably caused him to relax. “There isn’t a time limit on buying a ring or having a celebration. We have time, Brad. You needn’t be concerned.”

  “The thing is, I’m not sure how to break this news to the staff. We probably need to say something as soon as we get back, don’t you think?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I—uh—because they’re going to know sooner or later.”

  “Then let it be later. Let’s keep our private lives separate from our professional lives if we can. Until we adjust to living together, I see no reason to bring it to anyone’s attention. Of course that’s only my opinion on the matter.”

  What a sane and logical way to look at a situation in which he felt at a total loss. He could let everything happen in an orderly fashion without making a bunch of decisions over a situation that appeared—at least in his mind—filled with potential land mines. Not the least of which was his having to explain to the few women he saw occasionally that he would no longer be contacting them. And why.

  When he’d suggested the idea, he’d thought the marriage would be a simple matter, and already he could envision more complications than he’d foreseen.

  The cab pulled up to the curb. Brad huffed out a breath of relief that his life was moving forward once again, even if it was only to the airport. He helped Rachel into the taxi, and only then did he remember that she really disliked flying. Not once this morning had she given any indication that she was bothered by the thought of the return flight to Dallas.

  Rachel kept her emotions in check most of the time, now that he thought about it. She had accepted his suggestion to marry and he had no idea why. Maybe she was more afraid of staying at her apartment than she’d let on. Why else would she have planned to leave him—rather, the company—on such short notice?

  He reached over and took her hand, smiling at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way. She looked a little startled when she glanced at him, but that was probably because he’d kept his distance this morning.

  She might as well become accustomed to his touch. Although he’d never been much for physical contact—other than at the obvious times—he felt differently where Rachel was concerned. His problem now was fighting himself to keep his hands off her.

  The cabdriver followed his instructions to the private part of the airfield where the jet and Steve Parsons waited.

  Once he’d paid the driver, Brad picked up the small bag Rachel had remembered to buy to carry their extra clothes. Yielding to temptation, he wrapped his arm around her waist and strode toward the plane, adjusting his steps to her shorter ones.

  “Mornin’, boss,” Steve said with a smile. “I checked with the weather service. We should have a smooth ride back.”

  “Good,” Brad replied, conscious of Rachel’s warmth beside him. He reluctantly let go of her so that she could climb the steps in front of them. He paused while Steve gave him a brief rundown of the plane’s readiness after which the two of them walked up the steps. Once inside, Steve turned and prepared the door for takeoff.

  Rachel had already taken her seat and was staring fixedly out the window when Brad approached her. He sat and took her hand after he’d fastened his seat belt. This time he felt a definite damp chill in her hand. She made no acknowledgement of his presence and continued to stare out the window.

  Brad pondered the best thing he could do to help her relax. He’d learned not to tease her about her fears. He tried to think of something else that might distract her.

  After a normal takeoff, the plane continued to climb to the designated flying altitude. Rachel had kept her hand relaxed within his, but the other one clenched the arm of her seat with such force her knuckles were white. Wow. She really had to concentrate to clench only one hand. Maybe his holding on to her had given her something else to think about.

  He wondered if she wanted her hand in his. She gave him no indication either way. Brad realized that he wondered a great deal about her now that she was more than his assistant. He had no idea about so many things that made up the person he’d worked with for the past eight years…her favorite food…color…music…place to vacation or— Let’s face it, Phillips, you married a woman you don’t really know.

  His father’s knowing look of amusement flashed across his mind. He pushed it away and allowed his thoughts to wander without attempting to control them.

  After the plane leveled off and the seat belt light flashed off, he lifted the armrest between them, unbuckled first his belt, then hers, and scooped her into his lap without warning.

  She gasped and held on to his shoulders, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding more than a little breathless.

  He grinned, suddenly enjoying a sense of freedom he’d never felt before. “Holding my wife for a while. Do you mind?”

  Her gaze never left his. She seemed to be searching for something because after a moment she smiled and relaxed against him.

  “Comfy?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  “Um-hm,” she replied, her head resting on his shoulder.

  He tried to think of something to say that wasn’t related to business, but his mind remained blank. He’d never been good at social chitchat, but this time together—the first few hours of their marriage—seemed to him to be a time for sharing.

  He could ask her questions, he supposed, but that might make her more nervous. He knew so many pertinent things about her—the important things, now that he considered it—that knowing her favorite food, color, music and so forth did not seem to be as big a problem as he’d first thought. No reason for him to get uptight about what he didn’t know about her.

  What she didn’t know about him, though, might be upsetting to her if she ever learned about his past from someone else. Not that there were too many people who knew, but, just in case, he decided not to take any chances.

  She was his wife now. For better or for worse. She might feel that she’d got the worst end of this deal, so it was better to tell her and get it over with.

  “Did I ever tell you about my dad?” he asked, holding her close. He could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo and a lingering fragrance of her distinctive perfume. He rested his head against hers, feeling comforted by her presence.

  There was silence after his question. A long silence. Was she too afraid to answer? He didn’t want to continue talking if she preferred that they be quiet. Maybe that was just as well. For a moment he’d thought that it might bring them closer if—

  “No,” she eventually replied, her voice sounding a little ragged, “you never have.” She didn’t move except to slide her arms around his waist.

  He closed his eyes, and immediately pictures of his past flashed by like a silent movie. At least most of them were silent. Lots of color and action, though.

  “My dad was what’s politely referred to as a con artist. That’s a person who will sell you the moon at a bargain, guaranteeing to make you rich when you subdivide and sell lots. Of course, most of the people who bought his magical snake oil stories had to have a bit of larceny in their souls or else he wouldn’t have been as successful as he was. You can’t run a scam on an honest person, you know. For one thing, an honest person rarely falls for a get-rich-quick offer. He or she can generally see through the scam, rightfully believing big money schemes are suspect. My dad had a knack for spotting someone who hoped to get something for nothing
. Those people who bought into his tales ended up getting nothing for something because my dad managed to pocket whatever money a mark contributed and head out of town in a hurry.”

  She hadn’t moved since he’d started talking. When he paused, waiting for the questions that were no doubt flying around in her head, she tightened her arms around him without speaking.

  He held her more firmly against him, enjoying the sensation of her soft curves pressed against his body. Despite the unsavory story he related, he remained as hard as a rock against her hip.

  He ignored the urgings from that particular part of his anatomy and continued.

  “Harold never missed the opportunity to remind me that there was no such thing as a free lunch…and when something seemed too good to be true, it generally was. He bombarded me with advice as I grew up. To hear him describe our life, a person would think we were the luckiest people in the world. Putting down roots was for people too timid to take a chance on life. According to him, he had the world in his hand to play with as he pleased. He never mentioned the times when things didn’t work out as he planned.”

  Rachel rubbed his back in a soothing, gentle motion that eased his tension. Oh yes. He could become addicted to her touch.

  Brad paused to remember where he’d left off in his story. “I need to give him credit for not abandoning me, though. He could have easily enough. More than once we barely escaped the long arm of the law because I slowed him down, but he continued to drag me around the country with him.