A Wedding to Remember: Switched at Marriage Part 1 (3 page)

The best I could do was push a bottle of water toward her in a feeble, late-breaking attempt at gallantry. "Drink this. You look pale."

She stared at the water bottle as if it were a foreign object, and handed my phone back. "It's totally farfetched, but someone charged a boatload of clothes and junk on my credit card. You don't think someone was more than stealing my identity? That they were pretending to be me? Could someone have fooled you into thinking she was me?"

"No!" I uncapped the bottle for her and held it out to her. "No one could fool me. I would recognize you anywhere, any time."

She had to understand. I meant it. She was the one girl who was permanently etched in my mind. It was key. I couldn't lose her now.

"I got hammered when you didn't show up." Damn, how had that slipped out? "But even drunk, I would have known you." I frowned.

Kayla looked away quickly, as if I'd embarrassed her. She grabbed her bag and rummaged through it. "You can't even remember the wedding. Where's my phone?"

Harry took a seat and took charge. "We have the piece of paper to prove two people using your names and signatures got married. I don't like this, Justin." He paused. "And a witness of questionable credibility from the twenty-four-hour wedding chapel. He claims two people matching your descriptions got married Saturday night. He showed me a copy of the official license they filed with the state of Nevada."

I barely heard Harry as I watched Kayla carefully.

"Ah! Here it is." Kayla pulled her phone from her tote and looked through her texts. She gasped. "You're right! You did text, Jus, but I never got them. And someone texted you back, but it wasn't me." She turned the phone around for Harry and me to see, still looking stunned and like she was trying to process the situation. "That's so random and bizarre. This really
isn't
a prank?"

I shook my head, fighting my anger. "Not by me. Someone is screwing with us."

Embarrassed? Humiliated? There wasn't a word strong enough to describe how I felt just then. It was like running through a room naked. With a boner, because I was incredibly turned on by her. My inner fantasies, my inner self, had just been exposed. Mix that with rage and I was about to explode. What if this was a ploy by one of our competitors to discredit me? Or somehow steal our company-proprietary algorithms? I clenched my fist and took a deep breath.

Yeah, Kayla had to know I'd had a crush on her as a dumb seventeen-year-old who felt like a misfit at college. Now I'd just tipped my hand that it had been more than a crush. I'd fallen in love with Kayla in a desperate, first-love way I couldn't shake. She had to see now that I'd never gotten over her.

"I called the credit card company," she said in a stunned voice. "Canceled the card and reported the charges as false. I never dreamed…" She looked to Harry for help.

Of course she looked to Harry. All the girls did. Handsome, hot, frat-boy Harry. Just what all the former sorority babes like Kayla wanted.

"This is crazy. What do we do now?" Her eyes were wide, and flashed with anger. "We can't let her get away with it. She somehow engineered this fake marriage using our names and identities. What's her game? What does she want?"

Shit, I never wanted Kayla more than I did at that moment. I wanted her eyes to flash with outrage on my behalf now and forever.

Harry looked to me for direction. "Justin? We need a word."

I shook my head. "This doesn't change anything. We proceed with the original plan. It's even more important now."

Kayla jumped in. "We have to stop her! What if she comes back at Justin and tries to blackmail him out of more? What if she demands a huge alimony settlement or something?" Even when she frowned she was gorgeous. When she turned her lilac eyes on me, I went to mush.

"The bitch." Her gaze slid down me, measuring the changes. "I don't get why she ran out on you."

For a second, my heart jumped and my hopes soared.
She likes what she sees!

All that time at the gym each day with a personal trainer was paying off.

Until she continued, with a pretty furrow in her brow, "Maybe she didn't realize the opportunity she had. Maybe she didn't know who you are and what she could have gotten out of you."

If Kayla was faking her innocence, she was doing a damned good job. I crashed back to reality. "Yeah, maybe. Harry, I need a quick word with you. Alone."

K
ayla

Harry pushed back from the table. I was intrigued now by the whole situation.

"This is the damnedest divorce meeting I've ever seen," Harry said as he stood.

"Like that's a big deal. You're a contract lawyer, not a divorce attorney. How many have you seen?" Justin shot back as he stood, too.

The way he was able to tease at a time like this was completely adorable. Eric would have flipped and flown into a rage. Justin kept his calm and his sense of humor while I was freaking out inside.

Harry shook his head as if he couldn't believe what was going on. "You wanted a contract lawyer on this. I consulted the firm's hotshot divorce attorney. We can bring him in on this."

Justin joined him at the door. He was even taller than I had imagined when he was sitting. His shoulders were broader. His new confidence was surprising and a relief. What had happened to the scrawny, insecure guy he used to be? If he dressed in clothes that fit him, he might actually not be too bad to look at. I could barely believe this was the same Justin I'd known in college.

"We'll just be a minute," Justin said. "If you need anything, let Laura at reception know." Then he and Harry stepped outside.

They were gone about ten minutes, leaving me to imagine all sorts of schemes. What was that identity thief's game? What had the bitch wanted? She obviously wasn't too bright, letting a billionaire go. And marrying him under a false identity. If she'd used her real name, the marriage would probably have been legal.

I shuddered at the thought of her taking Justin for half his billions. She was still a threat. What if she realized who he really was and sold her story to the tabloids? Or blackmailed him?

Justin came back alone. "I asked Harry to wait for me outside. I wanted to talk to you alone now."

I jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Sorry to startle you." His smile was sympathetic.

"No, it's okay. I was lost in thought. Is it just me? Or is this wild and weird? And a little like something out of an episode of
Dateline
?"

"No one's died," he said.

"Good point. We don't want to add murder to the mix. But disappearing women?"

He laughed softly. "It's not you. It's definitely both, with a little of 'What the shit' thrown in."

I couldn't wrap my head around any of it—the way he'd changed and the situation we were in. Someone pretending to be me and duping Justin into marriage was either a better prank than even Dex could have thought up or a diabolical scheme. Or complete stupidity.

"You've changed." I rubbed my chin, and mimed an imaginary pointed beard. "What's with this?"

The Justin of old had been baby-faced.

He took a seat next to me at the table and turned his chair so he faced me. "Because I can. And it makes me look older. I can't run a company constantly being mistaken for a twelve-year-old."

I slid my gaze over him. "No one's going to mistake you for a boy now."

He smiled and hesitated, as if he was searching for words. "This whole situation is…embarrassing." His gaze held mine. "Kayla, this dumb shit stunt of mine puts me and my company in a bad situation. I need a favor, a
big
favor, from you. You're the only one who can help me." He laughed at himself. "It's bad negotiating technique to lead with that. But it's true."

I stared at him, heart pounding as he took my hands in his. His were surprisingly large and warm. Mine had gone ice cold in the overactive air conditioning.

"I didn't think I'd ever be proposing to a girl like this…proposing something like this." He took a deep breath. "I need you…I would be very…grateful…if you would stay married to me."

My mouth fell open. I knew I was gaping, but I couldn't make my mouth or voice work.

"Not forever. Just for…a year. I'm willing to compensate you—generously—for your trouble."

I felt my mouth working like a fish's. Open. Close. Open. Close. But no sound came out at first. "But we aren't…but I never—"

"It's legal enough as long as we both claim it's real. We have a witness. You were holed up in your hotel room. No one saw you. The facts fit. If that identity thief bitch ever shows up, it will be her word against…ours. Who will the courts and public believe?"

There was a second, maybe even a half a second, when the thought crossed my mind.
He doesn't believe I'm telling the truth about not marrying him. He thinks I'm trying to get out of it.

I brushed the thought aside, too stunned by the turn of events to think clearly. "I…don't know. It would be complicated. To say the least."

"I know." He nodded. "But we can handle it. I wouldn't ask if it weren't vital. I have nearly a thousand people depending on me for their livelihood. I can't let them down."

He began explaining about his company. How important it was to him and how he had to look responsible. How being scammed would make his investors lose confidence in him and, more importantly, the company. About how we could shut down the identity thief before she came back and tried to do more damage. Made demands that could ruin him and Flashionista. Or tried to claim the marriage was legit. Something about more money if that's what I wanted.

I listened, but didn't hear. It was too much to take in until he mentioned money. "I don't want your money. I stand on my own two feet and earn my way in life."

He squeezed my hands, looking inordinately pleased. "Think of being my wife like a job. You'll have to act the part. All the time. Go to charity events. Be seen in public with me. Travel with me. It will be a hell of a lot of work. You'll definitely earn your money. What can I do to convince you?"

"I don't prostitute myself."

He blushed. "I don't expect sex."

I didn't know whether to be relieved or hurt by his quick answer. I hated to admit it, but apparently I was one of those shallow girls who wanted a guy to lust after her. Forever. I know, irrational. But, you know, every girl wants to be desired when she's being proposed to. As it turns out, that's true even if the marriage is faked.

I took a deep breath. "I'm not ready to be married—"

"According to this." He picked up the license. "You already are."

I took a deep breath, willing myself to think. I
was
intrigued. "What kind of arrangement are you proposing? Would we live together, for example?"

"Most married people do. It will make the charade more convincing. That's essential."

"But what will everyone think? What will
my parents
think?" I shuddered at the thought. "Eric and I just broke up. I'm off men. It will be a hard sell."

"Eric? The same Eric from college?" He sounded surprised.

"Yeah, unfortunately. I'm a stupid sucker for him." I corrected myself: "I
was
a stupid sucker for him." Maybe that sounded a little too fierce.

"I'm sorry." He was trying to look sympathetic, but I saw through him. He'd never liked Eric.

"It's okay.
Really
. I'm better off without him." Or so I kept telling myself.

"He's a real douchebag for letting you get away." He sounded genuine about that, at least.

"That's nice of you to say. On the bright side, it makes things less complicated for us." I reached into my tote for a tissue.

As I dabbed my eyes, I looked at Justin, trying to imagine him as my husband. And realizing with a shock that now that he was a billionaire and I was just one broke girl, he was out of
my
league. The world was on its ear. Girls the world over would die to be in my place right now. I had to save my dignity.

"You'll look like rebound guy. Like I just married you to show him. 'See, I married a billionaire—ha ha! In your face, sucker.' You could have anyone, any girl you wanted now. Do you really want to be
my
rebound guy?"

He got a funny look on his face. "I would be honored to be your
any
kind of guy."

I laughed. "And given your situation, you really don't have any choice."

He grinned, looking like I'd called his bluff.

I thought out loud. "I'll look like a mercenary bitch. Everyone will think I married you for your money."

"So? What the hell do we care?" His eyes snapped and he sounded fierce. "Let them. We'll know, I'll know, the real reason. You have a good heart. You're helping out a friend. You're taking a challenging temporary assignment."

Crap. He was wearing me down.

"Pets?" I asked.

"I have a dog," he said. "You?"

I shook my head. "Kids?" I grinned. Someone had to lighten the tone.

"I thought you said no sex?" There was a tease in his voice. "Maybe if we make it past the one-year mark—"

I rolled my eyes. "I meant, do you currently have any?"

"Is that a deal breaker?" His eyes sparkled.

"Absolutely."

"Having them or not? Because I can adopt."

I grinned. "I like childless men."

He grinned back.

I couldn't believe I was actually considering his strange arrangement. "The thing is—logistics," I said. "I told Mom I was sick over the weekend. I told my coworkers. I made a fabulous story out of it and got a lot of sympathy." I tried to smile. "I mean, a lot. Am I a pathological liar now? Why would I lie to them?"

"Because you wanted to announce the wonderful news in person. And a case of food poisoning is the perfect cover for an elopement."

I'd forgotten what a great sense of humor he had. I frowned. "Except…I threw up all over the plant manager's shoes at the distribution site for the company I sort of work at."

"Nerves," he said. "Pre-wedding jitters. Happens all the time."

I frowned. I had to remind him of one final slip-up, even though it could cost me a literal fortune. "There's a hitch—I called the credit card company. Remember?"

"No problem. I'll have my people call them and tell them you were mistaken about the charges. I'll pay the bill in full." He paused. "How much do you owe?"

"Now you ask?" I teased. "Pocket change to you. About three thousand."

"Done." He looked relieved. "I'll get you signed up with one of those identity protection services. We don't want any problems with your impersonator."

I was still wavering.

"A fake marriage is serious stuff," he said. "If you need time to think it over, I'll understand. But think of it this way, Kay, it could be a grand adventure."

I looked into his eyes. He was dead serious. And he'd been thinking what I had. When would I get the chance to be a billionaire's wife again?

"I work a lot. I won't be home much. You can do pretty much anything you want, as long as you keep our secret and don't publicly embarrass me…with other men." He stared down at our clasped hands and rubbed mine with his thumb. "For my part, I promise to put the toilet seat down and pick up my socks. Well, the maid picks up my socks. But same deal, right?"

"Are you saying we're not going to have an open marriage of convenience?" I shook my head. "Crap, that sounds old-fashioned."

"You believe in open marriages?" He looked surprised.

"I meant the marriage of convenience thing—who does that?"

He laughed. It was a heartwarming, melodious sound.

"What about you?" I said. "I don't want to be embarrassed, either. Are you giving up a girlfriend?"

He looked startled by the question. "I work too much to have a girlfriend."

"But a wife is no problem?"

His grin deepened. "A wife of convenience. They're much more understanding. Girlfriends expect too much."

I smiled back at him. My life was pretty much in the toilet. What did I have to lose? Still, it was a huge deal to rush into marriage, even a highly convenient one. "Can I sleep on it?"

He nodded. "Harry's drawing up a contract. Take it with you. Read it over. Get a lawyer to look at it for you."

"I need a lawyer now, too?" I said.

"It's your standard post-nup," he said in an amused voice. "But yeah. Always have a lawyer look over the fine print."

"Post-nup?" I laughed at the absurdity.

His expression became serious, all business suddenly. "It guarantees you ten million dollars, flat rate, if you keep your end of the bargain, and an amicable divorce for both of us at the end of a year."

I studied him. His bushy beard needed a trim. Actually, it needed to either be cut off entirely or cut very close. His hair was a mess. On impulse, I reached up and smoothed down a piece of his hair that was sticking up at an odd angle. He was not my type. So why was my heart racing? The money? The sense of adventure? I didn't trust my motives. Maybe I
was
a moneygrubbing bitch.

He looked startled by my touch.

I dropped my hand as if I'd committed a sin and cleared my throat. "I'll text you my answer in the morning."