For Eric's Sake (2 page)

Instead he threw the covers back and pulled on his pants which lay discarded in a heap where he had stepped out of them the night before. "I must say though," he looked around the bedroom for the first time, "you have an exotic taste for decorating."

"What?" She was mesmerized by the sight of his athletic build, surprisingly unembarrassed by his nakedness: it was the way he moved with a self-assurance as if he were fully clothed. There was no reason for him to be shy. Countless women had no doubt watched him dress and undress, and many had probably even helped him.

"The mirrors. Erotic," he said.

"Oh," she said, realizing he didn't remember where they were. "This isn't my apartment."

He looked back at her huddled form beneath the covers of the bed. "No, I guess it wouldn't be. Not if hubby were expected home. But it sure isn't my place. Where are we?" He rubbed his head, and she wondered if he had a headache after all she had helped him drink the previous night.

"We're in a hotel," she explained, wondering how best to break the news to him of how and why they were there.

"Logical," he shook his head, his tousled, nut-brown hair making him look like a boy, "but not my style."

She didn't think it was. From the rumors she'd heard, he slept around. Women probably even came to
him
asking for a night in his bed. He should have nothing to hide, no reason to be discreet. "It's the bridal suite."

He turned and glowered at her in amazement. Then he fell back onto the bed and howled with laughter. "This is hilarious," he finally calmed down enough to say. "No woman's ever gotten me as far as the bridal suite before—and a married woman at that," he chuckled as he bent to pick up his shirt, stuffing the tails into his pants.

"I bet no woman's ever gotten you to the altar before last night either," she held her breath. It had been the one thing she hadn't been able to find out, whether or not he had ever been married.

"You're right about that," he grinned rakishly. As he looped his tie around his neck, he casually turned back to her, then suddenly, all amusement drained from his face, he asked cautiously, "What do you mean, 'before last night'?"

"Don't you remember?" she taunted, wanting to see him squirm for all his arrogance. The tables would be turned soon enough. She knew he was not the type of man to. let a woman dominate him for long.

"Remember what?" he demanded.

"You asked me to marry you." She forced herself not to look away from him.

He was the one to break eye contact, while running a hand through his thick, curling hair. "I remember joking about marriage—vaguely. But look here," he glared at Brandy, "you can't take that seriously. I talk love to all the girls I go out with. And besides," he passed his hand through his hair again, "I can't for the life of me remember your name."

"How does Brandy Janus sound?" she asked, and concentrated deliberately on the ring on her left hand.

"Ridiculous," he spat, knotting his tie.

"I think so, too." She leaned back against the headboard of the bed, tucking the sheets around her. "I guess I'll keep my maiden name for professional reasons. You won't mind, will you, Shaw?"

"Why should I mind?" He jerked his tie tight. "What is this about your maiden name? What in hell are you babbling about?"

"You," she breathed, afraid to look directly at him, "and me. We were married last night."

He turned and stared at her for a long moment. Then he dismissed her with a smile, checking his wristwatch to see if it had stopped ticking. "I have to admit if I were going to take a wife, I'd choose someone as beautiful as you. But beauty wouldn't be the only thing I'd want. And I'm not in the market for a wife at the moment," he stated, trying to close the subject.

Brandy wondered when he would want a wife. Why was he afraid of marriage? What did he need that he had not been able to find in a woman? "I did get that idea," she answered, "but
I
was in the market for a husband, and as strange as it may sound, you were the best I could come up with on short notice."

He laughed. "You have some cheek, I'll hand you that, but no woman has ever gotten the better of me."

"I'm not trying to win some sort of power play with you," she admitted. "I simply want to be married to you."

"A lot of women would," he said. "But just because you're a fan doesn't mean I'm going to be so grateful that I'll marry you."

"I'm not one of your fans." She shook her head. "I'm your wife."

"Well, it won't work."

Last night she had played the sly seductress. This morning she was dealing with hard facts. "I'm telling you, you already married me."

"It can't be legal," he claimed. "Nobody gets married overnight, except in movies. There are such things as blood tests, licenses, crossing state lines for a Justice of the Peace at the very least. I don't remember doing any of that!"

Brandy smoothed the sheets down around her, wondering if it would hurt to play the role of wronged virgin. A swift glance in his direction said it would. "I don't think you remember much of anything that happened last night. You do drink a lot, don't you?"

He remembered wanting her, wanting her so badly that he would have done almost anything to get her— anything but marry her. "I was trying to keep up with you," he replied.

Brandy blushed. She had ordered drink after drink, but had dumped them out every chance she got. "Our marriage license is in my purse if you'd like to look at it," she offered.

"That I would." He looked around the room and spied her purse on the dresser near the bundle of her own discarded clothes. He crossed the room and picked it up.

As the reality of the situation washed over him, his face contorted with rage. "This is ridiculous. How did you manage all the details? There's a waiting period for the license."

"I got that last week."

His brows shot up. "But I only met you this week."

She nodded. "You were always too busy with other women last week to notice me."

He found that hard to believe. She was the kind of woman that stood out in a stadium of people, and he could understand how easily he had been attracted to her. Even now, looking at her suggestive form beneath the blankets of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to slip between the sheets again and—

But this was ridiculous. He couldn't be married to her! he thought. Glaring at her, he thrust his hands into his pockets. His fingers came in contact with a slip of paper he didn't remember putting there. He pulled it out, read it and waved it in the air. "This is from the blood test! How did you manage that?"

"I have a friend who works in a clinic. Don't you feel a little tenderness in your arm?" She rubbed her own. "I do."

His eyes grew wider and his irritation increased. He had thought he was waking up with a dream girl, but it was all turning into a cruel nightmare.

"And the Justice of the Peace. Where did you find one on such short notice?" he demanded.

"It wasn't a Justice of the Peace," she sighed. "It was a minister."

"Geez," he exhaled, running a hand through his hair, and walking over to the window.

Brandy wondered if, while his back was turned, she should take that moment to slip out of bed and try to dress, but decided against it as every few minutes he sent her little shocked glances.

She heaved a sigh. She had pulled it off, managed to have him marry her, legally, against all the odds. Reverend Rourke had told her it would never work. He had advised against it, but had finally relented in the face of her determination. He had known how important it was for her to keep Eric, but he had also warned her how difficult it would be to get an annulment if the marriage turned out to be anything but in name only. Right now, she didn't want to speculate on whether or not she could stay married to Shaw Janus—she just hoped it would be long enough to keep Eric with her.

"Woman," he said, and she could tell he was talking through his teeth even though his back was to her, "I don't know how you managed such a stunt, but I'll find some way to undo it. Get the marriage annulled, or—"

"You can't do that," Brandy said softly, "not after it's been consummated." She didn't look up to see his reaction. She couldn't. If she did, he might get a hint of the truth: that he had been too drunk the night before to do anything but topple into bed and fall asleep; she was counting on that to have the marriage annulled.

But she would have to hold out until she was with Eric for good. Now, Shaw Janus had to believe he had completely seduced her. She had to keep him married to her, for awhile at least.

"Then I'll divorce you if that's what it takes." His eyes flashed as he focused on her. "I don't want and I don't need a wife."

"How do you know," she asked, her eyes all innocence, "if you've never had one?"

"I don't need a wife," he repeated.

"But
I
need a husband." She lifted her eyes to him, tears glistening.

"Terrific!" He threw up his hands. "Some guy's gotten you pregnant and I get all the blame and the responsibility. Well, I don't like your games, little lady, and I won't be threatened or blackmailed."

"It's not like that at all," she whimpered.

"Don't sit there crying!" he shouted. "I can't stand crying. It won't score any points with me."

"I'm not doing it on purpose." She glared at him, holding her sobs within, but unable to control the tears slipping down her face. "Believe me, I wouldn't have involved you if there had been any other way."

"How did I get mixed up in this stupid scheme?" He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Why me?"

"I thought… I thought…" she whispered, "you had some compassion."

"Compassion?" he repeated the word and laughed. "Me?" Then his eyes turned serious again. "I don't get women pregnant, and you can call that compassion if you like, but I will not be the father of your child."

"I'm not asking you to." She lifted her chin and a curious dimple appeared. "All I'm asking is for you to be my husband for awhile."

"Why?"

"For Eric's sake," she whispered.

"Who is Eric?" he thundered. "Is he the man who got you in trouble? Hasn't anyone taught him about living up to his own responsibilities?"

"Eric is a helpless little boy."

"He can't be all that helpless if he can make you pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant!" She tugged the sheets tighter around her.

"Then why do you need to get married?" Shaw thundered again.

"I told you, for Eric's sake."

He heaved a sigh, glared up at the ceiling, and said, "Suppose we start at the beginning?"

"Fine."

"Who's Eric?"

"I told you. He's a little boy."

"Whose little boy? Yours?" She didn't look old enough to have children, but it was possible that she could have a child. Several for that matter. But still, Shaw thought, she couldn't be more than twenty-one.

"He's my sister's little boy."

"All right." He sat down on the bed very calmly. "Now we're getting somewhere. Why did you feel you had to marry someone if Eric is your sister's boy?"

"Because she and Dick were killed in an accident a month ago and there's no one else to take care of him the way he should be cared for," Brandy explained.

"Who's Dick?"

"My sister's husband."

"What about your parents?" He frowned, knowing he was letting himself get involved.

"They're gone, too… when I was ten."

He didn't want to pry further, but asked, "No other relatives?"

"Well, yes, that's the point."

His brows peaked.

"My aunt and uncle, Louis and May Logan, want to take Eric."

"Good," he said, slapping his hands on his thighs. "The problem's solved then."

She shook her head. "You don't understand." Tears threatened behind her eyes again, and she reached out and touched his back. "Please."

She had said please to him already once this morning. He could still recall the warm seductive look of her, feel her silky smooth skin. "Please what?" he had asked.

"Please help me."

He wanted to bash his fists against a wall. He wanted to shout and kick and scream. He wanted to do anything but sit here and listen to her. A crazy feeling skittered up his spine. If he weren't careful, this girl would have him wrapped up like a Christmas package. There was something about the way she looked at him, not pleading, but proud, yet helpless and alone. "How can I help you?" he grated.

"By staying married to me long enough for the courts to turn Eric over to my care, long enough for Louis and May to stop fighting over Eric as if he were a chicken wishbone and long enough for them to leave the country and forget him. Louis is planning to move to Australia," she explained.

"I still don't see what's wrong with them taking him."

"He'd hate it." She raked her left hand—the hand wearing his ring—through her sultry hair, reminding him that he
was
married to her, at least for the moment. It made him feel strange to know that he possessed this beautiful woman. No other man could lay claim to her while she wore his ring.

"Eric would hate living with them. They already have a brood of kids who don't get as much attention and love as they should. Louis and May are too busy flitting around the world to worry about their children having the security of going to the same school for even one whole year. Little Ginger went to four different schools during the first grade. Four! Can you imagine the insecurity of that? I hated school myself, but add being uprooted and having to make new friends each year—it's terrible! I don't want that to happen to Eric."

"How old is he?"

"Eric? He's six."

Shaw scratched his head while looking at her, reproaching himself for weakening. She had called it
compassion
, but he thought it was actually
stupidity
. He didn't want to get involved. "Why won't they just let you have him?" he asked.

"Because I was single."
Was
, he noted. "And particularly because of my career, they didn't think I'd be a good influence."

"What are you, a topless waitress or something?" He grinned. He could not remember how she looked naked, but he grew hot with the memory of the feel of her.