The Temporary Mrs. King (2 page)

He scowled a little, still unconvinced, so Melinda took a wild shot. “I could…pay you for your time.?…”

Instantly, anger flared in his eyes. “I'm not going to have you pay me to marry you. I don't need your money.”

That reaction told her she'd made the right choice. Heaven knew there were millions of men who would have been more than happy to take her money. But Sean King was so wealthy in his own right, her trust fund, though immense to her, was probably nothing more than spending money to him.

Still, it spoke to his character that he was offended at the idea of her buying his services.

“Okay, but you and your cousin do want to build a hotel on Tesoro?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“And to do that, you need the land.”

“Yeah.”

“To get the land, you'll need
me
.” When he didn't look convinced, she said, “I know you don't believe me, but you should. You're meeting with Grandfather in the morning, aren't you?”

He nodded.

“Great. Then why don't we have dinner tonight? We can talk more about this and maybe I can convince you.”

He gave her a slow smile that was hardly more than a slight curve of his mouth, but she felt the impact of it slam into her. Sean King oozed charm and sex appeal. The man was bristling with testosterone and Melinda felt a shiver of appreciation shoot through her.

Oh, this could get dangerous, she told herself.

“Dinner, huh?” He set his beer down and nodded. “Okay. I never turn down an opportunity for dinner with a beautiful woman. But I warn you, I'm not interested in being married.”

“I know,” she told him. “That's why you're perfect.”

He shook his head and laughed. “I can't decide if you're crazy or not.”

“Not crazy,” she assured him. “Just determined.”

“Beautiful and determined,” he murmured. “A dangerous combination.”

Heat flashed through her veins in spite of the fact that she didn't want to be attracted to him. She ignored the warmth still blossoming inside her and said, “There's a restaurant in town. Diego's. I'll meet you there at seven.”

“I'm agreeing to dinner,” he said with another half smile. “Not marriage.” He stood up and looked down at her. “Diego's. Seven.”

When he walked away, Melinda watched him. He was tall and lean and moved with a kind of lazy grace that men with lots of confidence seemed to adopt. Sean King was more than she'd expected.

She only hoped he wasn't more than she could handle.

 

“Lucas, what do you know about Melinda Stanford?” Sean spoke into his cell phone as he stood out on the end of the pier, watching the fishing boats head into the harbor.

“She's Walter's granddaughter.”

“Yeah, I know that much.”

“Well, what else is there?”

Way too much to go into over the phone, Sean thought. “Did you meet her when you were on Tesoro?”

“Briefly,” Lucas said. “But then, my whole trip was brief. Walter said ‘No' so fast, I didn't even get to unpack my bag before I was on the launch taking me back to civilization.”

“Right.” Sean nodded thoughtfully and kept his gaze fixed on the ocean.

“So what's this about?” Lucas asked. “Problem already? The great Sean charm not working?”

“In your dreams.” Sean laughed, turned around and headed back down the dock. “I told you I'd get the land and I will.”

“Yeah…good luck with the old man. I think he got a charm immunization.”

“We'll see,” Sean said.

 

Diego's was small and bright and popular with both locals and tourists. Seafood was the specialty and it was served at small, square tables decorated with brilliantly colored tablecloths that shone like jewels in the candlelit atmosphere. Patio dining offered more privacy, as there were fewer tables and those were spread far apart, but even the customers who stayed inside had a breathtaking view of the ocean and the pristine beach through a wide bank of windows. Moonlight glowed in the night sky and dazzled the water with silver light.

A sigh of a cool breeze slipped in off the ocean and danced around Melinda as she sat on the patio. Fall weather on Tesoro was capricious at best. Warm during the days, the nights could be cold or as it was tonight, almost sultry.

But then, Melinda thought, taking a slow sip of her ice-cold wine, maybe it wasn't the weather making her feel hot and uncomfortable. Maybe it was Sean King.

No, she told herself immediately. That couldn't be it. Because she refused to be attracted to him. She wasn't interested in a man and didn't think she ever would be again. This was strictly a business proposal and it would really be better for both of them if they could keep sexual heat out of the mix entirely.

Nerves skittered in her stomach. She trailed her fingertips up and down the stem of her wineglass and told herself that she was doing the right thing. The only thing.

She needed a husband.

Now all she had to do was convince Sean King that he was the man for the job.

“No pressure,” she whispered.

She wasn't sure what caught her attention. The sound of leather soles scraping against the stone floor of the patio? Or was it something more elemental than that? Was it the feel of Sean King's gaze locked on her?

Whatever the reason, Melinda looked up to see the man walking toward her. His features were carefully blank, but for the half smile curving his mouth. He wore black slacks, a white, button-down shirt, open at the throat and a black jacket—and somehow, he managed to look both casual
and
dangerous.

“R
omantic setting for a business deal,” Sean commented as he sat down opposite her.

Melinda took a long, deep breath and forced a smile she wasn't quite feeling. The nerves jumping inside her were now racing at a gallop. This was too important for her to make a mistake. Somehow, she had to convince Sean to marry her—temporarily.

“I wasn't going for romantic,” she told him. “Just quiet.”

“You got both,” he said, nodding to the waiter when he stepped up to the table to pour wine. He waited until the server had moved off again before lifting his glass to take a small sip. Then he set the glass down, leaned his forearms on the tabletop and looked at her. Waiting again.

His gaze was steady and the expression on his face unreadable. Good sign? Bad sign? Melinda didn't know. But there was one sure way to find out.

“I'm really sorry I dumped all of this on you out of the blue this afternoon.”

He shrugged. “No good way to propose to a stranger, I suppose.”

“True.” Shaking her head, Melinda said, “I know this all seems really strange, but you have to understand that my grandfather is very protective of me.”

“So much so he tries to barter you off to business associates?” Sean quipped. Melinda stiffened.
She
could complain about her grandfather all she wanted, but she wouldn't let someone else—especially someone who didn't even know him—take a shot at him. “He's trying to see me taken care of.”

Sean leaned back in his chair and scraped one hand across the back of his neck. “And if you were a simpering maiden trapped in the middle ages, that would make sense.”

This wasn't starting off very well, she told herself and then decided to ignore whatever comments he made. He didn't understand yet, that was all.

“Okay, yes,” she agreed, “he's a little old-fashioned.”

Both of his eyebrows arched.

“Fine. More than a little.” She blew out a breath and explained. “I grew up here on Tesoro. My grandfather raised me when my parents died in a small plane crash when I was five.”

He frowned at that, then took a sip of wine. Still not giving anything away. Not letting her get even a hint of what he might be thinking. He was probably an excellent poker player, Melinda told herself. She, on the other hand, was terrible at card games. She couldn't bluff to save her life. She was much more up-front and honest—well, she admitted silently, she wasn't exactly being honest with her grandfather in all of this. But then, she had tried to talk
him out of this husband hunt he was on. Sadly, she hadn't been able to change his mind.

At the thought of Walter Stanford, she smiled in spite of her frustration. Her grandfather had been the one constant in her life. The one person who had always loved her no matter what. He was only trying to see her married because to
him
, that meant she would be protected and loved even when he was gone.

Which she so didn't want to think about. A world without Walter Stanford in it just didn't seem possible.

“Anyway,” Melinda said, “he's getting older now and worrying about leaving me alone. I've told him that I'll be fine, but he comes from a generation that believed in taking care of women. I'm his only family and he wants to protect me.” She gave him a long look. “You come from a big family and you're very close to your brothers. That's another reason why I'm coming to you with this plan. You understand family loyalties.”

“I do,” he admitted with a nod. “In fact, that's the one part of this whole thing that I totally get. I understand your grandfather's motivations. What I can't figure out is why you're willing to play along with his plans.”

She smoothed her palms over the skirt of her cream-colored tank dress and tugged at the hem, but couldn't get it to reach the tops of her knees. “Because I love him. I don't want him to be worried…”

“…
And
?”

He was right, there was more. Quite a bit more.

“And, once I'm married, as I said, I'll come into my trust fund.”

“Ah,” he said, with a small smile. “And by marrying me, you don't have to worry about your new hubby making off with your money.”

“Exactly.” She returned that smile and felt a bit of her
nerves slide away. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you got past the weirdness of the conversation.

“And again, how long would this marriage last?”

“I think two months should do it,” she said, warming to her subject now that they were talking specifics. She had been working on this plan for weeks now and in her mind, at least, it all worked out perfectly. And so far so good. Sean King was still sitting opposite her. He hadn't said yes,
yet
. But, he hadn't walked out and he hadn't said no—precisely. “It's long enough that my grandfather would be convinced we at least tried to make it work.”

“And once our marriage ‘fails,' you think he'd stop trying to marry you off?”

“I think so,” she said, chewing at her bottom lip as she considered it. “I
hope
so,” she corrected after a minute or two. “But basically I'm tired of fending off men trying to buy my grandfather's goodwill. Besides, this is my only chance to get my trust fund
my
way. Well, mostly my way. I'll still be married, like Grandfather wants, but it will be a husband I choose and the kind of marriage I want.”

He shifted in his chair and the breeze ruffled his black hair, lifting it off his forehead. He was still listening, so Melinda hurried on.

“Like I said earlier, if you agree, we'll get married and stay married for two months. I'll get my trust fund. You'll get your land. And then we'll
both
get a divorce.”

The waiter showed up just then, so whatever Sean might have said would have to wait. Impatient now, sensing that just maybe he was beginning to come around, it seemed to take forever for them to order their meal. Finally, though, it was done, and they were alone again.

“So?” she asked. “What do you think?”

That was easily enough answered. Sean was still fairly sure she needed medication.

And yet…He draped one arm over the back of his chair and studied her.

Warm night, cold wine and a beautiful woman sitting across the table from him. In Sean's world, that sounded just about perfect. His gaze swept up and down Melinda Stanford, from the thick black waves of her hair to the blue-green stones glittering at her ears to the dip in the neckline of her dress, to the shine of her manicured nails. She was gorgeous. No doubt. But she was also complicated. And maybe crazy.

Still. Didn't mean he couldn't consider her proposal. In fact, he'd spent the last few hours doing just that.

Her grandfather, Walter Stanford, had shut down every deal the Kings had proposed over the last few months. Walter hadn't been interested, no matter how high their offers had gone. Either the old man seriously didn't need the money or he was as crazy as his granddaughter. But as soon as that thought entered his head, Sean discounted it. The old man wasn't a loon.

He was crafty.

Walter knew what he wanted and wasn't willing to settle for less. How the hell could a
King
of all people resent that? The King family did the same thing. They never took no for an answer and never gave up on something they wanted.

Sean smiled to realize that he and ol' Walter would probably get along great.

“What's so funny?”

“What?”

“You're smiling,” she pointed out, managing to look both gorgeous and offended. “I asked what was so funny?”

She was insulted, Sean realized and he couldn't really blame her. No doubt she thought he was laughing silently at her well-presented offer. And as he considered the fact
that it was
so
well-presented, he had to wonder if he was the first man to receive this weird proposal.

“How many times have you tried this?” he asked, leaning toward her so he could keep his voice down. Tables on the patio were few and the other diners sparse, but it paid to be careful.

She frowned slightly. “You're the first.”

“Why? Why pick me?”

“I told you. I checked you out.”

“Yes,” he said, “but you'd already decided that I would be the lucky winner or you wouldn't have bothered doing your research.”

She chewed at her bottom lip, and he wondered if it was nerves or just a habit. Then she reached for her wineglass and took a long sip. She set the glass down again before saying, “I knew my grandfather was talking to you. He kept me posted on the negotiations between him and your family. He told me that
you
had taken over from Lucas and not long after that I saw a picture of you, okay? And you looked…
nice
.”

“Nice?” he repeated, appalled at the idea. “Old maid schoolteachers are ‘nice.' Puppies are ‘nice.' Ice cream on a hot day is ‘nice.'
Men,
especially Kings, are not nice.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, “I'm getting that.”

He'd never been called nice in his life. Funny. Handsome. Smart. And by some, he admitted, cold. Closed off. But never “nice.” What picture of him could have possibly given her that impression?

“Where'd you see this photo?”

“It was in one of those celebrity magazines they sell at the grocery store.” She flushed when she said it, almost as if embarrassed to admit she read the damn things. But millions did, Sean knew.

“You were at a football game with one of your brothers—”

Sean nodded. “Lucas,” he provided, remembering that shot of him and his brother at a pre-season game. If his secretary hadn't shown it to him, he would have been unaware of it. He never paid attention to the photographers who were always ready to take pictures of the King family. It was just part of being who he was. Nodding, he said, “We hit the first pre-season game together every year.”

“Well, in the picture, you were laughing and you looked friendly.”

“Better than nice, but just barely,” he admitted. He had an easygoing attitude to most of life, he supposed, which worked well in business, since his opponents were never ready for him to turn on them. But as far as women were concerned, most of those he knew would never think of describing him as nice, for God's sake. Nice was…
nice
. He wasn't. Not at the heart of him. And usually it didn't take long for people to pick up on that.

She shrugged a little. “The point is, you looked like a man I could talk to about all of this. When I found out you were coming to Tesoro personally, I decided to take a stand.”

“By lying to your grandfather.”

“Not a lie,” she argued quickly. “We actually
will
be married. So it's more of a colorful representation of the truth.”

He fought back a smile. Seems Melinda Stanford had her own rules to play by. Well, Sean could admire anyone who set out to do something and didn't let anything get in the way. He could even take a step back and see that from her point of view, he actually
was
the perfect temporary husband. The question was, could he see it from his point of view?

Their dinner arrived before he could say anything else and, for a few minutes, they each focused on their meals. The food was excellent, the atmosphere even better and the beautiful woman across from him was just the capper.

He'd rarely met a woman who didn't find it necessary to fill every silence with some kind of inane chatter. He found himself relaxing. The silence stretching out between them was companionable somehow, as if they were already a team.

He frowned to himself at that thought, since he hadn't decided a damn thing yet.

“You've lived here your whole life,” he said into the quiet.

“Since I was five, yes.” She turned her head to look out over the water. The tide was out, and a handful of couples strolled the beach in the moonlight. “It's a lovely island. The town is small, but the hotel is a big draw. Most people prefer coming here because Grandfather's never allowed the cruise ships to stop. So, our guests tend to be very wealthy and very into their privacy. But they spend plenty of money in the village and the shops usually make enough money to last them through the off-season.”

“I know.” He gave her a quick grin. “The Kings do research, too.”

“Then you already know that Tesoro is the perfect spot for the resort you want to build,” she said, setting her fork and knife down.

“Agreed.” It was more than perfect. Like it had been designed specifically for the plans Rico had in mind. Rico's hotel in Mexico was top-of-the-line, modern, beautiful and plush. But for the resort on Tesoro, things would be different. Rico wanted to go with island elegance. To make this the most talked-about destination spot in the world.

And with King Construction behind the building and
design, it would be. Sean was itching to get started. The plans were already drawn up, the equipment ready to ship to the island. All they needed was the old man's go-ahead and things could start rolling.

“It would be good for Tesoro, too,” she told him. “We have a small construction company on the island, you know. My grandfather started it twenty years ago. They do all the building and would be a big help to your company.”

“Uh-huh.” He knew that, too. Of course the Kings would bring in some of their own men because they'd worked with them for years and trusted them. But using island labor would not only move things along quicker, it would make for good relations with the locals.

It would all be perfect—if he didn't mind getting married to accomplish it.

Melinda's eyes shone in the candlelight and her smile curved her lips just to the point where he thought about leaning over the table to have a taste. Her teeth chewed at her bottom lip again and he felt an answering tug inside him. Sean was tight and hard and going to damn well embarrass himself if he had to stand up anytime soon.