Hired Bride (13 page)

Zane waited for Jack to say something, and when he didn't, Zane said, “For your information, I have the utmost respect for Gwen.”

That comment unleashed Lafferty's tongue, and he growled, “From where I sit it looks like you're taking advantage of her. She's alone—except for her kids—and probably lonely a lot of the time. Someone like you probably looks pretty good to her.”

Zane cocked an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah, someone like you,” Jack said belligerently. “Make anything you want out of that, but let me tell you something, buster, I want your affair with my daughter to come to a halt here and now. In fact, I want your word on it.”

“My word!” Zane snorted. “Listen, Lafferty, if Gwen and I stop seeing each other, it will be our decision, not yours.”

“Is that so?” Jack snarled. “Okay, answer me this, and it's a question I have every right to ask. What kind of intentions do you have toward Gwen? I'm not talking about how she might be feeling about you, Fortune, I'm talking about your feelings for her. Is she just another short-term bed partner or does she mean something to you?”

“She means a great deal to me.” Zane was a little surprised at his quick answer, and couldn't help wondering if he was letting Jack Lafferty intimidate him.

“And?” Jack said, pressing for more. Zane just sat there, and Jack got to his feet. Putting his palms on the desk, he leaned over it.
“And?”
he demanded hotly.

“I'd like to marry her…if she'll have me,” Zane blurted.

Jack straightened his back and smiled. “Stand up and shake your future father-in-law's hand, son.”

Before Jack left Zane's office, Zane made him promise to say nothing to Gwen about this discussion until he could actually propose—which he knew wasn't going to be simple when they hadn't even talked in over a week. But Jack readily agreed and walked out with a huge grin on his face.

It was then that Zane's knees got weak, and he practically collapsed into his chair with a stunned expression on his face. He could hardly believe what he'd just done, and there'd been no good reason for it. He could have gotten rid of Jack Lafferty with the push of a button.

But something had stopped him from alienating Gwen's father and causing a rift that might never heal. The thing was, if he didn't really plan on marrying Gwen, what difference would it have made if Jack had been tossed out with him cursing every Fortune who'd ever been born?

To Zane, marriage had always seemed the most monumental step in a man's life, and he had never been sure that he wanted to get married. What made this all so crazy, though, was that he couldn't stop thinking about Gwen when he knew darn well that he was treading on thin ice with her. She was not a love 'em-and-leave 'em type of woman, and he knew in his soul that if he wanted to protect and maintain his bachelor status he should stay completely away from her.

Despite that indelible knowledge, Zane could not get Gwen out of his mind. He crudely asked himself if one reason she was so unforgettable was that she
was so much better in bed than any other woman he'd made love with—and shocked himself with a “Yes!” answer.

But then, that told him he wasn't thinking with his brain where Gwen was concerned, which made the affair all that more dangerous. Actually, it was a pretty volatile situation all around, considering that Gwen's dad believed that Zane intended to propose.

For days after his conversation with Jack, Zane kept wondering if Gwen's father would keep his word about saying nothing to Gwen about their conversation. By Thursday he could no longer argue himself out of attempting to talk to her to find out what she did or didn't know. He dialed her home number and was surprised when she answered. He was tired of getting one of those cursed machines of hers.

“Hello, Gwen,” he said in a cheerful, upbeat voice, as though there never had been any animosity between them. “How are you?”

The rippling response Gwen felt throughout her system at the sound of Zane's voice instantly put her on guard. “I'm okay,” she said distantly, and deliberately did not ask how he was.

Zane ignored her frosty tone and forged on. “How about the kids? How's Ashley doing?”

“She's fine, they're all fine.” Gwen couldn't resist asking, “Are you really interested in my kids, or are you merely being polite?”

“You're still upset with me. I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for, but I'm sorry. Actually, I'm surprised to find myself talking to you at all. I thought I'd get your answering machine.”

“It quit working and I haven't been able to fix it. Guess I'm going to have to replace it with a new one.
The one connected to my business number still works, but the other one gave up the ghost.”

Zane realized that she did not remotely sound like a woman expecting a marriage proposal, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Jack was a man of his word.

That feeling was reinforced when Gwen asked, “Is there a reason for this call? I was just putting the kids to bed.”

“Um, yeah, a good reason,” Zane said before he thought about it. “How about dinner together tomorrow night?”

“You're asking me out again?” Gwen sounded as incredulous as she felt. For almost two weeks she'd heard nothing from him, and she'd been recovering—at least a little—from his influence. The last thing she wanted was to start at square one again with Zane, and she might as well let him know how she felt about that.

“That's the idea, yes,” he said with a small chuckle.

She wasn't amused. “No,” she said flatly. “And this time I mean it, Zane. Don't ask me out again. We are
not
going to have a long-term affair, or even a two-or three-week affair. Please don't call me again.” She slammed down the phone.

Zane was caught completely off guard. With the line dead, he finally put down the phone and then stared at it broodingly.

Jack Lafferty thought Zane was going to propose to his daughter, and Gwen had absolutely no affection for him. What a peculiar turn of events this was!

D
uring the following days Gwen worked harder than ever. Whenever time and her Help-Mate schedule permitted, she worked on the old furniture in her garage. Physically she rarely stopped moving, and at night she went to bed tired and ready for sleep.

But no matter how busy she kept herself, and how much she exhausted her body so she would sleep at night, her mind still played dirty tricks on her. When she least expected it, Zane and a dozen disturbing memories would suddenly invade her brain. As unnerved as those invasions made her feel, there didn't seem to be anything she could do to stop the onslaughts. She suffered them in tense, teary-eyed silence, while wishing with every fiber of her being that she'd said no to everything Zane had ever suggested, from their very first meeting.

And then, on occasion, she found herself balking and thinking some very strange thoughts. One was about just saying to hell with every standard she'd ever lived by and phoning Zane and telling him that she would gladly have any kind of affair with him that he could name. She actually trembled every time that idea passed through her mind, because it was truly earth-shaking. She had three children for whom she must keep up appearances, after all, and two moralistic,
watchful parents, who, incidentally, had started calling her so much that it was becoming annoying.

One particular phone call stood out. She and her mother had been talking about nothing in particular when suddenly her mother blurted, “Don't you have something to tell us, honey?”

Gwen thought hard. Had she missed relating some little incident about the kids? It occurred to her then that she'd talked to her folks so often during the last few weeks that they even knew what she'd been feeding the kids for meals!

“Mom, there is nothing I haven't told you and Dad. What are you hoping to hear?”

“Hmm,” Lillian said thoughtfully.

“Hmm, what?” Gwen demanded. “Mom, what's going on?”

“Not a thing, dear. I'll call again later. 'Bye.”

Gwen had hung up muttering that she
had
to take enough time from work to shop for a new answering machine. At least then she would be able to screen some of these completely senseless calls. Not that she resented talking to her parents. But they were both acting so oddly, almost as if they knew some sort of secret and were just waiting for her to find it out. If they knew something that she should know, why wouldn't they just come right out and tell her about it?

And so one day followed another and Gwen did her best not to dwell on the fact that her life as it was now was probably all it would ever be. She had no faith whatsoever in meeting the “perfect” man—the only thing that might change her life-style—because, first of all, no one was perfect, and, second, a woman with three kids and no money of her own was about as
much in demand among single men as a case of the mumps.

Not that she couldn't indulge in affairs, if she so decided. Both she and Ramona could have had bed partners almost from the day their husbands had died. And maybe it was naive to hope to fall in love again someday, but it was how they both felt.

The painful thing, of course, was that Gwen
had
fallen in love…with a man she couldn't even envision as a husband—hers or any other woman's. No, as sad as it was, she could not see Zane as a married man, even though she had to admit that he'd surprised her with his response to the kids the day of the barbecue. But his being nice to five little kids for one day guaranteed nothing. It certainly didn't make him less predatory or any more domesticated than she knew him to be.

He was a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, and for her own good she'd best keep that in mind.

 

Zane had never come up against a problem of this nature before, and he couldn't seem to reach any kind of satisfactory solution to it. Completely eliminating Gwen from his life would solve everything, of course, but whenever he reached that conclusion he felt an intolerable ache in his gut, and he would quickly switch his thoughts to other possibilities.

The thing that bothered him most was that unspoken marriage proposal hanging over his head. What on earth had possessed him to say such a thing to Gwen's father? And there was one other thing. When Zane had asked Jack not to mention it to Gwen until he could, Jack had readily agreed. But time was passing, and Jack Lafferty didn't strike Zane as a patient man. In
fact, Zane half expected the older man to come barreling back into his office any day yelling, “Hey, buster, let's get this show on the road!”

It really was the most absurd situation of Zane's life, and he had to wonder about his own part in it. He hated the possibility that he'd let Jack Lafferty's angry bluster intimidate him into saying something he would never have said without prodding. But since he couldn't remember another occasion on which someone had intimidated him, that explanation for what he'd blurted out to Lafferty seemed pretty lame.

And yet he'd said it. He couldn't deny saying it, nor could he pretend that Lafferty hadn't taken him seriously.

What he had to do, he finally decided, was talk to Gwen. He had to tell her the whole story, keep it light and hope she thought it was funny. It would be disappointing if she got mad instead, but why would she? And even if she didn't see the incident as funny, wouldn't any anger she felt be aimed at her dad and not at Zane?

It amazed Zane how much he didn't want Gwen mad at him. He'd have to get past her anger from their last conversation somehow, and then convince her to see him long enough to have a discussion. Surely he was smart enough to figure out a way to accomplish that.

Eventually an idea gelled. About a week after Gwen hung up on him, Zane stopped at Heather's desk on his way into his own office.

“Good morning, Zane,” she said.

“Morning,” he replied with a deliberately reflective expression, a
serious
expression, as though a dilemma of great consequence was on his mind.

“Is something wrong?” Heather asked.

“Well…I suppose there is,” Zane said slowly. “I've been trying to speak to Gwen Hutton for days without any luck. She's an expert at refinishing furniture, and I have several pieces…” Zane paused briefly. “That wouldn't matter, except that I'm planning a big party over the Christmas holidays and would like everything in the house to be perfect.”

“Oh,” Heather murmured, sounding as though she'd expected to hear something of importance, and his trivial little problem really didn't deserve the long face he was wearing.

Realizing that he was laying it on a bit thick, Zane grinned. “Anyhow, since Gwen is obviously unimpressed with my attempts to speak to her and won't return my calls, I'd like you to make contact with her and give her a message for me.”

“I'll certainly try,” Heather said, and picked up a pen. “What is the message?”

“I would like her to meet me at my home at four this afternoon so I can show her the pieces that need refinishing. We'll discuss the particulars at that time, and the whole thing shouldn't take more than twenty, thirty minutes. It's important that you stress the fact that I do not intend to take up much of her time. Uh, tell her that I have a five o'clock business appointment.”

Heather looked up from her pad with a startled expression. “I don't have anything for five in your appointment book. How did I miss—”

“You didn't. This just came up, and it—it's, uh, only partially business. Nothing to concern yourself about, Heather.” Zane glanced at his watch. “I'd bet
ter get to work. Please try to reach Gwen right away, and if you don't succeed, please keep trying.”

“Yes, I'll do that.”

Zane felt his secretary's curiosity-filled eyes on his back all the way to his office door. Going in, he shut the door behind himself and sighed. Why
wouldn't
Heather be curious? She'd worked for him long enough to know that when a piece of furniture in his house started showing signs of wear, he replaced it. Since he wasn't into antiques, collectibles or priceless originals, everything in his house was easily replaceable.

But he'd racked his brain for a logical excuse for Heather to spend most of the day trying to get hold of Gwen for him, and the furniture idea had seemed best.

Now, he thought while seating himself at his desk, all he had to do was wait for Heather to tell him that she had talked to Gwen and the four o'clock appointment at his house was fine.

He was positive Heather would succeed where he had failed.

 

When Gwen checked Help-Mate's answering machine around ten that morning and heard that Heather needed to speak to her, she phoned at once.

“This is Gwen Hutton, Heather. What's up?”

“Oh, Gwen. Thanks for calling back so quickly. I have a message from Zane for you. Apparently he has some furniture that needs refinishing. He would like you to meet him at his house at four this afternoon so he can show you which pieces and also to discuss the particulars. I assume that means price and timing and such. At any rate, he has a busy schedule this afternoon and can only give you about twenty or thirty
minutes to go over the work. May I tell him you'll be there?”

Gwen was flabbergasted. In spite of her little garage business, she was far from being an expert on the fine art of putting new finishes on furniture. And, every single thing in Zane's gorgeous house had to have been outrageously expensive. Why on earth would he trust her with his costly things?

“Heather, I really don't…um, understand,” she finally stammered.

“You don't understand what?”

While Heather said those four words, two others flashed through Gwen's mind:
Christmas money!

Hastily she backtracked. “Uh, forget it. Tell Zane I'll meet him at four.”

“Good.”

“Heather, you're sure he said only twenty or thirty minutes?”

“Positive. He has a five o'clock business meeting.”

“Fine. Thanks for the call.” Gwen hung up, worried some about destroying instead of improving Zane's excellent furniture, then worried a little about going to his home at all. But she thought again about Christmas, and how great it would be to have some extra money to spend on her kids. She daydreamed about a lovely Christmas for a while, then switched gears again. She had already damaged Zane's car; the thought of ruining some of his furniture gave her cold chills.

Okay, here's what you'll do. After you see what furniture he wants refinished, if you think you can handle it, you'll take the job. Otherwise, you'll tell him no, that he should hire a professional. Since he has a five o'clock appointment, you won't be at his house for
long and he's not apt to try anything funny. Just play it cool and keep things impersonal.

Regardless of all that common sense, Gwen couldn't help being on edge the rest of the day. It angered her that almost every one of her daily decisions, both the big ones and the small ones, were influenced by money. In her heart she knew she should not be going to Zane's house when he was there, but she needed money for Christmas, and so she had to ignore her heart's warnings. She had to ignore the weakness she had for Zane. She had to forget the feelings she kept trying to bury so deeply that they would never surface again, and the memories she would be so much better off not having. She had to drive up to his house and go inside, talk business with him, and act as though nothing personal had ever passed between them. If he could do it—and she believed he could, considering his almost ruthless reputation with women—then so could she.

That was the thought she clung to during the drive to his house that afternoon.
If he can do it, so can I.
Though she couldn't help wincing when she saw his vehicle on the circular driveway, she forced herself to park her van right behind it instead of going round back, where she usually parked. Then she got out, bravely walked to the front door and rang the bell.

She had not changed clothes purposely or done anything special to her hair or makeup. She was not there for anything but business, and something as simple as fresh lipstick just might make Zane think otherwise. It was an awful feeling not to trust herself, but if Zane did try something, she was honestly afraid she couldn't say no.

Taking in a huge breath of air so she would appear
calm and collected when he opened the door, she pushed the doorbell again. She could faintly hear the elegant chimes from inside the house, and wondered, a bit impatiently, what was taking Zane so long to come to the door.

In fact, Zane had come to the door, then had been almost paralyzed by complete and utter confusion. He was standing in the foyer wondering how on earth he was going to talk to Gwen about such a delicate matter without destroying any chance they had.
Gwen—ha, ha—I told your dad I was going to propose marriage, but I don't know why I said that and—ha, ha—isn't it just about the funniest thing you've ever heard?

There was nothing funny about it, and Zane was furious with himself for even hoping that Gwen would laugh. He sure as hell wasn't laughing. He felt like a total jerk, in fact. Getting Gwen to come here with lies was unforgivable.

You had no choice. She wouldn't talk to you on the phone.

That, at least, was the truth, which eased some of Zane's tension. Putting on a more relaxed face, he opened the door. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“You're welcome.” Gwen stepped into the foyer, and Zane closed the door. The second she saw him she felt hot and achy in places where she shouldn't be feeling anything. Not only that, but her mind went into overdrive and dredged up again every detail of their incredible lovemaking. It was not the most propitious start for a business meeting.

She cleared her throat. “Which room contains the pieces you were thinking of having redone?”