An Offer He Can't Refuse - Theresa Ragan

An Offer He Can't Refuse By Theresa Ragan

Kindle Edition Copyright (c) 2012 by Theresa Ragan These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Theresa Ragan. Editor: Cathy Katz Beta Readers: Janet Katz and Sally Chamberlain Formatting by LK E-Book Formatting Service http://design.lkcampbell.com/ Proofreader: Faith Williams http://www.theatwatergroup.com Cover art by LFD Designs for Authors http://www.mycoverart.wordpress.com/

About the Author After reading my first romance novel in 1992, I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life...write novels...fun, quirky novels that would provide busy women around the world a few hours of entertainment. I knew I was truly a writer when I was working full-time, while raising four children, and nothing could stop me from getting the words to the page.

Dedication This book is dedicated to my sister, Cathy. She is the oldest sister of five girls. When we were small, Cathy would hold family meetings. She would set up "school" and teach us to read and write. She organized many days where we would all sew clothes for our Troll dolls or make bouquets of wild flowers to deliver to our neighbors. Later in life, all of the sisters became busy with their own families, but Cathy was the one who handed me my first romance novel when I was pregnant and on leave of absence from work. For over twenty years now, she has been the encouraging force behind every book I have written, celebrating the highs and providing sympathy during the lows. She brainstorms with me and critiques and edits every manuscript dozens of times. She has her own life and her own family, but somehow she always makes time for me and my stories, and she does it with gladness in her heart and a smile on her face. I've called her an angel on numerous occasions, but unlike many angels, she's already earned her wings. Ask anyone.

Chapter One The name of the bar was Lucky Lady. Madison Brown couldn't think of a more ironic name, given her situation. A couple of healthy ferns dangled from the ceiling, lending the worn establishment a bit of color. The floors were littered with peanut shells. Scarred tables cried out for a good sandpapering--a job she'd gladly take on if it would help her forget that she was here to find a husband: someone tall, dark, and temporary. Madison's friend, Jen, sat across from her and anchored strands of long russet hair behind her ear before subtly gesturing with her chin toward the back of the barroom. "What about those two guys over there?" Peering over her shoulder, Madison squinted to see through the dim light and haze of smoke. She jerked back around. "Are you kidding me? You'd let me marry one of those guys? One of them looks like he's fallen off too many bucking broncos and the other can't be a day under eighty. Could we at least try to find a guy with a full set of teeth?" "Not them," Jen said, giving the toothless man a fleeting smile. "Wait a few seconds and then look again. Further toward the back. Two guys who look totally out of place." Madison's stomach gurgled. Clearly, Jen's dogged determination had already set in. She should have known Jen wasn't going to let her give up so easily this time. If Madison didn't find a husband soon, her cousin, Heather, would get the two million dollar trust fund set up by their grandfather. Heather spent money as if it grew on trees; her gambling problem didn't help matters. The money would be gone in an instant. But even so, the thought of marrying a complete stranger just didn't sit well with Madison. "I don't think I can go through with this," she said. "You don't have a choice. You said so yourself." Jen placed a comforting hand over Madison's. "Those kids are counting on you." "But hiring a stranger to be my husband?" "The marriage will be over before you know it." Jen snapped her fingers. "Three short months and you'll be free again, not to mention rich." "You're not going to let up, are you?" "Nope. We've come too far to stop now. So what about those two guys I mentioned earlier?" With a sigh, Madison purposely dropped her napkin to the floor. As she leaned over to pick it up, she peered across the room and this time spotted two good-looking men in their late twenties or early thirties sitting at a table at the back of the room. The one on the left was blond, and even with an upside down, worm's-eye view, she could see that he didn't look happy. The guy next to him, on the other hand, was dark-haired and broad-shouldered, with eyes the color of mocha...eyes that were focused on her. She jerked upwards and banged her head on the table. "Ow!" Jen winced. "Are you okay?" "Why didn't you tell me he was looking this way?" "He wasn't. Not until he caught you staring at him." "I wasn't staring." "I'm afraid looking at someone fixedly with eyes wide open for more than a few seconds is pretty much considered staring." "It doesn't matter anyhow," Madison said. "I'm not going over there. They're probably both married." "There's only one way to find out. So, which one is it going to be?" The idea of approaching the dark-haired Adonis made Madison's insides churn. But she and Jen both

knew she didn't have a choice...not really. She held no ill-will toward her cousin, Heather. But Madison refused to let Heather throw the money away on the poker tables she was so fond of. She could not allow that to happen. Not if she wanted a better future for all the kids she'd grown to love and care for. For the past five years she'd volunteered after work and on weekends at the CFC--the Community For Children. Besides counseling, she kept the kids busy by organizing picnics, baseball games, hiking, and birthday parties. She was rewarded with smiles and hugs and all the love she'd missed out on when she was a child. Though her day job as an accountant kept her busy, the kids at the center gave her life meaning. Unfortunately, CFC needed money to keep their doors open--lots of money--enough money to make her do something desperate. "Three months with a stranger before I turn thirty," Madison said under her breath. "No big deal, right?" She clasped and unclasped her hands. "Right. Three measly months, and then you inherit two million dollars. That's only a third of the time it takes to carry a baby to full term," Jen added. "Piece of cake." "I can't believe it's come to this." "Well, it has," Jen said, "and we both know you won't be able to sleep at night unless you've done everything in your power to help those kids. Besides, you can't just stand by and let your greedy cousin spend all that money on shoes and Black Jack tables." "I know. I know." Until last month, Madison hadn't cared about the trust fund money. Her grandfather had known that, but he also didn't like the idea of Madison being alone, which is why upon his deathbed two years ago he'd hired a lawyer to write up a new will, hoping to rouse Madison into action by offering her two million dollars to find a husband. In order to receive the money, Madison had to remain married for three months before her thirtieth birthday. Unfortunately, Madison's experiences with men, including her own biological father, were less than inspirational--to the point where not even two million dollars seemed worth the bother. That is, until a few weeks ago when she learned that the center would be shut down because of lack of funds. The kids at CFC needed her. "So?" Jen asked again, snapping her from her thoughts. "Who's going to be the lucky man?" Madison looked over her shoulder at the two men. The dark-haired man smiled at her, causing chills to dance across her arms. She gave him a perfunctory nod before turning away. "Let's keep looking, Jen. I mean, even if he...I mean even if they aren't married, it wouldn't work. He's too...too--" "Too darn good-looking?" Madison arched a brow. "Now that you mention it--yes. He must have a whole slew of girlfriends. Look at him. He's smiling at us with the kind of confidence that comes with lots of experience. He probably thinks he's God's gift to women." "And he'd be right," Jen said wistfully. Madison groaned. "This is ridiculous," Jen said with a smack of her hand to the table. "We've been planning this for weeks. Last night the guy I picked out for you was too tall and the next one too short. Too smart, too pale, too this, too that." Jen looked Madison square in the eye. "You know what? I think you're chicken. The guy is mouth-watering delicious to look at, and you're shakin' in your ugly sandals at the thought of living with such a gorgeous creature. I bet you're afraid you might actually enjoy it." "What do you mean ugly sandals?" Madison examined her footwear. "Put it this way. You could've made this whole thing a lot easier if you'd worn the outfit I picked out for you." "I'd go naked first." "That would work." They both laughed, at least until Madison wrinkled her nose. "What's wrong with what I have on?"

"Are you kidding me? That horrid dress screams librarian. And your face--you have 'keep away' written all over it." "I do not." "You do, too. And why you would wear those thick eyeglasses when you have perfectly good contacts at home makes me wonder about you. You've worn those glasses every single time we've gone out over the past few weeks. Not to mention those sandals; where did you ever find those? Your feet look twice as--" "Okay, okay, I get the picture. But any man who agrees to this scheme of ours is going to have to take me as I am. I'm paying him to sign a marriage license. I'm not trying to seduce him." Jen lifted her hands in surrender. "They're your feet." Madison tapped her fingers on the table and said, "There's got to be somebody I know who would help me out. We just haven't given this enough thought." "We've been over this a thousand times," Jen said. "There's nobody. Now come on. Those guys might leave if we don't hurry." Madison took another peek at the stranger across the room. Her insides began to do funny things. The man was talking to his friend, which gave her a chance to visualize approaching him and asking him to be her husband. When he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkled. She saw a flash of white teeth. What would it be like, she wondered, to kiss a man like that? Her stomach made funny noises. "I can't do this." "Of course you can," Jen said, grabbing her hand. "And the guy you keep staring at will be perfect." ~~~~ Jackson Lang's face felt stiff from all the smiling he was doing. If Madison Brown didn't approach them soon, he was going to have to make the first move. How the hell did he get himself into these predicaments? His friend Collin leaned back against the spindly chair, his foot tapping against the floor. Not to the rhythm of the country music filling the bar, but in obvious boredom. "Jackson, buddy, let's get out of here. We should be down at Ziggy's checking out the side dishes, if you know what I mean." Jackson knew exactly what his friend meant. Unfortunately, he also knew where he had to be--right here at Lucky Lady. "See those women over there?" Collin glanced across the room and then looked wide-eyed back at Jackson. "Are you serious?" "Completely." Collin didn't look convinced. "Is this some kind of joke? This sudden urge of yours to go bar hopping-this place--those girls? They don't look like your type, Jackson. The redhead looks a little too determined, and the other one looks like a librarian who's just been told to strip in public." Collin narrowed his eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd accuse you of stalking. I could've sworn I saw those same women at the last place you dragged me to." Jackson ignored him, giving the women his best turn-the-girls-on smile when they looked at him again. "They're coming this way." Collin started to get up from his chair. "That's it--I'm outta here." "Sit," Jackson said. "I want to hear what they have to say. Then we'll go." Collin plunked himself back into his seat. Jackson watched the two women make a path around the bar and past the jukebox as he inwardly scolded himself for being here and for making promises he wasn't sure he could keep. Accidentally bumping into Madison Brown this past week had proven to be much more difficult than he'd envisioned. The pictures he'd seen of Madison Brown didn't do her justice. She had black hair all right, but it was tied in a knot at the top of her head, making it hard to tell if her hair was long or short,

frizzy or straight. Her loose dress and clunky shoes left a lot to be desired, but still...she couldn't fool him. He knew an attractive woman when he saw one. None of that mattered, though, he reminded himself. According to Madison's cousin, Heather, Madison was a greedy, selfish woman whose bottom line was cold hard cash, and she needed help keeping her inheritance, but Collin didn't know any of that. "Mind if we have a seat?" the woman with Madison asked in a cheery voice. Collin finished his beer in one gulp. Jackson stood and pulled out a couple of chairs. "Please do." "I'm Jennifer and this is Madison," the redhead said, taking an offered seat. "Are you two from around here?" "Santa Monica--" Jackson began. "And we hate to cut this short," Collin interrupted, "but we were just about to leave." Jackson smiled tightly. "This is Collin. I'm Jackson. My friend here is eager to try out that new place, Ziggy's down on Fifth Street. How about the two of you joining us?" Jennifer's face lit up. "We would love to--" "But we can't," Madison broke in. "Don't let us stop you two, though. Really. Go right ahead." She made a motion with her hands, as if she were shooing away a couple of stray dogs. Relieved, Collin stood. Then he glanced at Jackson and plopped right back down in his seat, clearly frustrated. Jackson noticed the way Madison smiled when she thought she'd gotten rid of them. Not a nervous, polite curve of the lips as before, but what looked to him like a genuine smile of relief. The smile faded when she realized they weren't leaving. Jackson couldn't help but wonder why she would be disappointed that they were staying. According to Heather, Madison Brown needed a husband, fast. She didn't have time to be choosy. He felt ridiculously offended. "Can I buy you two a drink before we go?" "Certainly," Jennifer said. "I'll have a glass of wine. No, make that champagne. It reminds me of weddings. Speaking of which, are either of you married?" Collin began to choke on a peanut he'd just popped into his mouth, prompting Jennifer to pound on his back. Madison looked horrified. "Have you two been friends long?" Jackson asked Madison. "Oh, no...I mean, yes," Madison said. "I'm afraid so." He smiled. "What can I get you to drink?" With her lips curved into a tenuous smile, he noticed big blue eyes behind her thick-rimmed glasses. "Nothing for me, thanks." "How about water?" Without waiting for a response, he signaled for the waitress and ordered two beers, champagne, and a glass of water. Jennifer gave Collin one last pat on the back and said, "I hope I wasn't too candid. People always tell me I shouldn't be so frank, but--" "No," Collin interrupted, raising a hand to stop her from explaining. "Neither of us is married." "Engaged? Any significant other?" Jennifer asked. Collin gave Jackson a look that told him he owed him one. "Nope. Not married and no significant other. Right, buddy?" Jackson answered with a tight smile and a nod. ~~~ Jen kept making faces, her friend's not so subtle reminder to spit it out and get things rolling. Neither man was attached, which meant the rest was up to her.

Time to pop the question. But Madison could hardly think, let alone speak. Her mouth felt dry, her palms moist. Tom Petty was singing, "I'm free...free falling," and she told herself over and over again that this was a business deal. Nothing more. She was an accountant. She dealt with clients every day. So what was the problem? All he could say was no, and wouldn't that be a relief? "Are you okay?" Jackson asked her. Everyone glanced Madison's way. "I'm fine, really." Wringing her hands, she looked straight into Jackson's cool brown eyes. He smiled, encouraging her to say what was on her mind. He could work magic with those eyes. Business, she reminded herself, though her better judgment told her that marriage to a man like Jackson would be something else altogether. She took a deep breath and said to Jackson, "I have a very important question to--" Swallowing a knot in her throat, she turned toward Collin instead, "--to ask you." Collin drew a finger to his chest, looking surprised and more than worried that the attention was now focused on him. She nodded, letting Collin know that she was indeed talking to him. Madison didn't know what made her change her mind, exactly. Maybe Collin looked safer, a little less movie-star gorgeous. "I have an offer to make you that I hope you can't refuse." Although they were in the middle of a crowded bar, she felt suffocated by the silence. "I need a husband." As if she had leprosy, Collin pushed away from the table. "And?" Her palms were sweating. "And I was hoping you might be interested." Collin's jaw dropped, but no words came out. "I'll pay you one hundred thousand dollars after three months of marriage," she quickly added. Her throat felt drier than a martini, but somehow she managed to blurt out all the details of her proposal. After she finished, Jackson winked at her, launching her right back to reality, which at the moment seemed to be analogous to the Twilight Zone. Why would he do such a thing? Did he think this was some sort of joke? Collin's wide-eyed look of disbelief would have been laughable if her situation wasn't so darn depressing. "Let me get this straight," Collin said, laying both palms flat on his chest. "You want me to marry you for three months. During that time I'm supposed to pretend to be madly in love with you in front of family and friends?" He scratched his chin, making the seconds feel like hours. "Feel free to stop me if I heard wrong." Nobody said a word. "When the three months are up," Collin continued, "you hand me a check in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars to stay out of your life forever. Do I have it all straight?" A lump formed in Madison's throat. "That's right," she said, despising the uncertainty in her own voice and the humiliation burning inside of her. Begging some stranger to marry her for money--what was she doing? If he refused, she wouldn't ever put herself through this again. She'd known enough humiliation for one lifetime. Her stomach knotted as she waited for an answer. Collin burst out laughing. People at a nearby table looked over to see what was so amusing. Madison's cheeks heated. For the first time in her life, Jen appeared to be speechless. Madison's temples throbbed. The headache she'd been trying to overlook for the past hour burst forth, hitting the front of her skull with a blinding flash. She shut her eyes, put a hand to her forehead, and waited for the bright light to dissolve. It wasn't working. She could see the boys in sixth grade laughing at her,

teasing her about her weight, pulling her hair at recess and calling her names. Flash forward to prom night. She came out of her room in the dress she'd made herself, her father stooped over in a drunken laughter after telling her she looked like the pumpkin that Cinderella rode in. And now this man--a complete stranger--laughing at her. "Sorry," Collin said, "I don't mean to be rude. It's just that I'm definitely not the man you're looking for, not even close. I'm not the marrying type and neither is my friend here." He stood. When Jackson didn't budge, he added, "Then again, you never know. It's been an interesting night. I've gotta go, buddy. Ladies, it's been a pleasure." The waitress returned with their drinks. Collin threw a few bills on her tray and walked away. Madison watched him leave. Jackson didn't try to stop him. Instead, he reached over and touched her arm. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine. Please. Go with your friend. Don't let us keep you." Jen gave him an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. "You really need a husband?" he asked. Madison looked deep into the man's eyes. "It may sound comical to you and your friend, but unfortunately, it's not a joke. My grandfather thought he was doing me a favor by forcing me to marry." Appearing to consider her words, he regarded her for a moment, his eyes dark, thoughtful. He raked his hand through his hair and said, "I guess it's settled then." "What's settled?" "I'll do it." Madison blinked. "Do what?" "I'll marry you." Jen grinned. Madison pushed her glasses a notch higher and stared at him with disbelief. Clearly, Jackson was dark-his hair, his shadowed jaw, his eyes. He also came across as dauntless, wearing confidence as if it were cologne. How could she risk being around this man day and night? Her heart had been broken too many times and was only hanging together by a thread. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "This was a mistake. For the first time in weeks I'm beginning to see what a bad idea this was." Jen shot her a murderous look from across the table. "I only made the offer because you struck me as sort of desperate," Jackson admitted. Madison snorted. "I am not desperate." He raised both hands as if in surrender. "I meant your situation. I thought you were--" "Desperate," Madison finished for him, nauseated by the realization that he was right. His mouth formed a crooked smile. "I guess that's what I meant after all." Madison wondered why he was doing this. He didn't know her from Eve, but he was offering to marry her. What kind of man would marry a stranger for money? A very poor one, she thought. But with his well-tailored jacket and expensive watch, he appeared to be far from lacking. More than likely he was wondering what kind of woman would pay a complete stranger to be her husband. She frowned. If only she didn't have to stoop to something so...unethical...so risky...so downright awful in order to help those kids. Madison folded her arms across her chest. "Why?" she asked. "Why would you do it?" "Because I promised myself I would do one good deed a week. This pretty much takes care of the next few years." "Very funny." He didn't flinch. "Let's just say I have my reasons, and I would prefer to keep them just that--mine." "Well, that's fine," Madison said, annoyed by his mystery-man attitude, "but I'll need your first and last name at the very least."

"Jackson Lang," he offered. "If you're serious about this, Mr. Lang, I'm sure you won't mind if I do a background check on you first. Something I would do for any new client." "I wouldn't have it any other way, especially since I plan to do the same." Her hand flew to her chest. "A background check on me?" "You have something to hide?" Jen laughed, breaking into their exchange. "It would take all of two minutes to learn about Madison Brown. She has no social life whatsoever. She's responsible, fairly dependable, and she--" One piercing glare was all it took to stop Jen mid-sentence. Madison turned back to Jackson. "How about we meet again in a few days to discuss this further...in private?" "Wednesday's good," he said. "Meet me at the Hollywood Cafe on the corner of Second and Fifth." "It would have to be after work." "Six-thirty then." They all stood. Madison shook his hand when he offered it. His warm touch sent a wave of hot tingles up her arm. Taking note of his long, tanned fingers, and feeling the way her body responded in pulsating flutters, she jerked her hand away, unable to bury the feeling that she was making a deal with the devil and she was about to get seriously burned.

Chapter Two The next day Jackson Lang walked into the L & L building on the corner of Dayton and Camden and headed for his office. In the last six years, his company, L & L Developing, had grown from a half dozen employees to triple that amount and now a maze of cubicles took up nearly three thousand square feet of office space. His administrative assistant strode toward him, her short blond hair bobbing up and down. "Thank goodness you're here," she said, following him as he continued toward his office. "Mr. Crawford and Mr. Blake are waiting for you in conference room B. Mr. Milburn left over an hour ago and Heather Garrett is waiting in your office." Jackson tried not to show his disappointment. He knew why Heather was here and he wasn't in the mood to deal with her emotions right now. Her husband, Walter Garrett, had been like a father to him, taking him and his brother under his wing after their mother passed away more than fifteen years ago. Three years after Jackson and his brother moved into Walter's house, Walter met and married Heather, a woman half Walter's age. Since Walter's death months ago, Heather had become increasingly insecure and worrisome. "Is there a problem?" his admin asked. "Mrs. Garrett assured me you were expecting her." "I'll take care of it," he said. "Tell Crawford and Blake I'll be right with them. And call Mr. Milburn to reschedule. Give him my apologies." He took two more steps before turning back to face her. "Has my brother returned from Chicago?" "He's in his office. Should I send for him?" "Not until I'm finished with Mrs. Garrett." She nodded. Jackson continued down the carpeted aisle until he came to his office. He pushed through the heavy oak doors. Across the room he noticed sharp stiletto heels accenting long legs, crossed at the knees, swaying in time to the tap, tap, tap of long blood-red nails on his mahogany desk. He went to his desk, catching a glimpse of Wilshire Boulevard through the window before he turned to face Heather. "Any luck last night?" she asked before he could say hello. Her voice was smooth and low, like the purr of a Siamese. At thirty-five, they were the same age, but with her flawless skin and slender shape she didn't look a day over thirty. "I finally ran into your cousin, Madison, if that's what you mean," Jackson said. "I hardly recognized her. She looks much different than the photo you gave me. How is it that I never met her before?" "Grandfather didn't get out much, being that he was confined to a wheelchair." "So Madison took care of him?" Heather waved away the notion. "He had maids and nurses to attend to his every need. Madison lived at his house, but she spent most of her time fretting over her drunk of a father." Jackson took off his coat and hung it on the stand behind him. "I see." "So, what happened when you finally ran into her? What did Madison say?" "She was with a friend," Jackson said, "but you were right--she's looking for a husband." Heather came to her feet. "I knew it!" Jackson flipped through the pile of mail on his desk, ignoring her excitement. He looked up and said, "She asked my friend, Collin, to marry her." Heather's face paled.

"Not to worry," Jackson added. "Collin has no idea what's going on and he doesn't need the money any more than I do. He turned her down flat. That's when I stepped in. Madison and I are meeting again on Wednesday." Heather sighed with obvious relief. Jackson frowned. "Your finances are worse than you've let on, aren't they? Walter and I went over your accounts only a few months before he died. Financially the two of you were set. What happened?" "The accounts haven't been touched," Heather assured him. "How many times do I have to explain all of this? Nothing happened. It's not the money. It's the principle of the matter that drives me to stop my socalled cousin from getting Grandfather's money. That money belongs to me. Madison Brown isn't even a blood relative." "But she's your cousin." "My Aunt Lorraine made the mistake of marrying the town drunk, Dwayne Brown, and thus took on the burden of raising his daughter. Madison was a year old at the time. Now she's all grown up and she's a lot like her deadbeat father--a conniving opportunist who charmed her way into my grandfather's heart--and more importantly, into his trust account." "Listen," Jackson said as he moved closer. "If you're not struggling financially, that means none of this marriage business is necessary. Let your cousin marry whoever she wants. Let her have her share of the trust. People are entitled to leave their money to whomever they choose. Don't waste your energy on this." "We've been over this, Jackson. Why don't you understand?" Heather's fingers gripped the chair. "Since Madison was a small child, she always had everybody fooled. Grandfather thought she was a saint. But I know--" Heather held tight to his forearm. "I know what she is. Madison is greedy and manipulative. If she finds a husband in time, she'll fritter Grandfather's money away within months. That's why I need you to marry her. After you accept Madison's proposal, marry her, and then pull out before her thirtieth birthday, she won't have time to find anyone else to take advantage of. She'll be ineligible to receive any of the trust and grandfather's millions can be used to help those less fortunate--just as he wanted." As if it pained her to talk about it, Heather put a hand to her temple in an overly dramatic fashion. "Jackson, you must do this for me. If Walter and I hadn't provided you and your brother with the necessary resources, your business wouldn't be thriving as it is now. L & L is on its way to the top. Clients are lining up at your door. Do this one thing for me and I'll never ask another favor of you." Everything Heather said about him owing her and Walter was true. Walter had taken him and his brother into his home. Without Walter, who knew where he and his brother, Jamie, would be right now. Even now, after all these weeks, it pained him to think of never seeing Walter again. He missed the old man. "The marriage will be over in the blink of an eye," Heather went on. "You're never home, and even if you were, you'll hardly see one another in that big house of yours. When the time is right, my attorney will write up the annulment papers and you'll be able to put this all behind you." Jackson exhaled. Heather peered into his eyes. "It's terrible of me to ask you to do this when you're still mourning Walter, isn't it? You must think I'm cruel to ask such a thing of you." Jackson exhaled. Walter had never asked anything of him until the very end when he'd asked Jackson to promise him he would take care of Heather when he was gone, concerned that his young wife wouldn't be able to take care of herself. How could Jackson say no? "If marrying your cousin for a few months is so important to you, then it's the least I can do." She stepped close and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Jackson. Walter would've been so proud." A knock sounded at the door. Jackson's brother, Jamie, walked in before Jackson could reply. Standing in the doorway, in a tailored suit the color of sand and a silk tie a shade darker, Jamie lifted a brow, obviously surprised to see Heather.

Only the best for his little brother, Jackson thought, eyeing the Rolex around his brother's wrist and the Ferragamos on his feet. With his tawny colored hair streaked with blond and his year-round tan, Jamie still managed to look like he'd just come in from the surf. "Heather," Jamie said, acknowledging her with a cursory nod before turning his attention to Jackson. "Do you have a minute?" "Did you hear me say, 'come in'?" Jackson asked. Jamie slid his hands deep into his pants pockets, jingling his change. "Had I known you two had grown so close, I might have waited. Thought you might want to know that Crawford and Blake have left the building. Thanks to me, they left smiling. Now are you two finished comforting one another, or should I come back later?" Heather gathered her things. "I better go. I've kept you long enough." Jackson never understood the bitterness between his brother and Heather, but sadly he'd grown accustomed to it. Jackson walked Heather to the door. When she was gone, he turned to Jamie. "Do you mind telling me what that was all about?" Jamie pointed a finger at him. "That woman is up to something." "Come on. She's a woman who knows her own mind. What's wrong with that? For more than a decade she had Walter to look after--" "And now it's time she took care of herself." "We owe it to Walter to help her," Jackson said firmly. "If it weren't for him, neither of us would've had the opportunities we've had. You certainly wouldn't be standing there in one of those Zegna suits you're so fond of." "Well, you do what you have to, big brother, but I say it's time to let her grow up." Jackson shook his head, expecting as much from Jamie. "Heather's not so bad if you just give her a chance." "Yeah, and lions make good pets as long as you don't pet them." "Well then, maybe it's time you quit worrying about other people's affairs," Jackson said, "and concentrate on all the work piling up around here." "So, what did Heather want this time--more money?" "Not exactly." Jackson stared into Jamie's dark eyes, the one feature that tied them together physically as true biological brothers. "She wants me to marry her cousin." ~~~ On Wednesday, Madison entered the Hollywood Hills Cafe at six twenty. She had ten minutes to spare before Jackson was due to arrive. Her eyes were puffy after tossing and turning all night and her insides were wound up as taut as kite string on a windy day. She took a seat near the window and tried not to look at her reflection staring back at her. She looked down at the worn denim pants and scolded herself for being so stubborn. Jen would die if she knew she'd come to meet Jackson dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, but the last thing Madison wanted to do was lead Jackson on and make him think this was anything more than a business arrangement, so she'd made a quick change out of her suit after work. She'd also exchanged her contacts for eyeglasses. The mere thought of a man like Jackson noticing her at all made her roll her eyes. More than likely, he dated tall, voluptuous blonds. After her break-up with Steve, she'd made a deal with herself. She would never change her wardrobe, her hair, or anything else for a man. She'd lost over twenty pounds since then, but getting healthy and losing weight was something she'd done for herself.

She looked toward the parking area. Her heart thumped against her ribs. Get control of yourself, Madison. Business. Think of this as business. "Hello." Startled, she turned about and found herself looking into dark, mahogany eyes. "Hi." Jackson wore a fitted moss-green suit. His silk tie had been loosened at the collar. Her gaze fell to his mouth--not too full, not too thin--perfection. She bit down on her bottom lip as she found herself wondering once again what it would be like to kiss him--if only for a second, just a slight grazing of their mouths. She cast aside the ridiculous thought. What was wrong with her? She was staring at him as if she were a love-sick teenager. His friend, Collin, definitely would have been the better choice. He took the seat across from her. "Are you going to order anything, or should we get right down to business?" "I think that would be a good idea--to get down to business." They looked at one another for a long moment, each assessing the other. A little voice in her head shouted "run" but she ignored it and remained seated. "Okay then. If we're going to be living together," Jackson said matter-of-factly, "we should be up front with one another right from the start." "Yes, I agree, which is why I should tell you right off," she said, wanting to appear as cool and indifferent as he appeared to be, "that since I'm paying you, I see this thing between you and me as a business arrangement." She swallowed the knot in her throat. "If you choose to go through with my proposal, I'll expect you to abide by my rules for the next three months." He removed his jacket, placing it on the seat next to him. "What kind of rules?" The nerve of him taking off his clothes when she was trying so hard not to notice him. He casually rolled up his sleeves, and just as casually, she looked at the solid muscle, taut against his shirt, and the dark hair sprinkled across his forearms. Good ol' Steve, she realized, had been as bald and skinny as a flute compared to this man. Redirecting her gaze to his face, she saw a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched her watch him. She couldn't remember where she'd left off. "You were talking about rules," he reminded her. "Yes, that's right," she said, wishing she could hide under the table. "If we were to actually go through with this and get, ummm--" "Married," he supplied generously. "Yes, married," she echoed, her confidence rapidly dissolving. "I--I would expect certain rules to be followed." "You said that. An example?" "Well--" She rubbed the back of her neck, trying desperately to remember the list of rules she'd spent all day playing over and over in her mind. "Like clothes," she blurted. He arched an amused brow. She rolled her eyes, wondering where that rule had come from. She never really thought this finding-ahusband thing would go this far. How was she supposed to appear confident when all she could think about was pulling a napkin from the silver canister and wiping the perspiration from her forehead? "What I mean is...you would have to wear clothes at all times. You couldn't walk around half naked while we're living together." "And what about you?" he asked. "What about me?" "Can you walk around naked?" "Of course not." She grabbed a napkin from the canister and dabbed it on her forehead. He smiled. A cunning dimple dented his cheek. That really irked her. The last thing the man needed was a dimple.

She glanced away, frustrated that her insides were doing jumping jacks. She didn't want to feel anything. Too bad. At the moment she was feeling a whole lot of anxiety and a strong dose of lust, all balled up into one massive pang. Jen was right. She didn't get out enough. She felt like a caged animal that had been let loose for the first time in years. "Is there a problem?" he asked. "No!" she blurted. "I mean, no. I'm sorry. This is just so strange. Not something I go around doing every day, you know, asking strange men--" He lifted a brow. "Not that you're strange or anything...I mean I don't usually ask men who are strangers to be my husband." "Speaking of which, why are you doing this?" he asked. "Do you need your grandfather's money that badly?" Frowning, she said, "I would never do something so crazy just for money, I mean money for me...for myself." His gaze remained locked on hers. Weird, Madison thought, how he looked as if he truly wanted to understand. Her stomach knotted. "The truth is," she tried to explain, "I'm doing this for some kids I've grown attached to, kids from broken homes who have been physically and emotionally abused for most of their lives. The center they go to for guidance has recently run out of money. With Grandfather's money, I would be able to buy the building where they go to after school and they would never again have to worry about having no place to go when they need someone to talk to. More than money, these kids need attention and love, but I only have so much of that to go around. One thing at a time." She looked into his eyes. "What about you? Are you doing this for money or do you just get a kick out of marrying women you hardly know?" "As I mentioned the other day," he said, "I have my reasons." The man could be exasperating. Why, Madison wondered, did it appear his voice was lined with bitterness? Nobody was forcing him to marry her. They both had a choice in the matter. "Well then," she said, trying not to worry about why he was agreeing to her arrangement. "Let's go over the rest of the rules. You will sleep in the guest room and you must prepare your own meals. Other than sharing a place to live, meeting some of my relatives, and attending a few social functions together, I see no reason for us to have too much interaction." Madison waited for him to grab his jacket, wish her luck, and run as fast as he could. But Jackson made no move to escape, so she retrieved a notepad from inside her purse and skimmed her notes. "I see here that you're a shopping center developer for L & L." He leaned forward, propped both elbows on the table and nodded. "That's right." He was peering deep into her eyes again as if he was trying to see inside her very soul. She refused to squirm. Stay calm, she told herself. Act natural. "I took the liberty of calling your workplace," she added cheerfully. "I spoke to your boss. He was very helpful when it came to answering my questions." "Is that so?" Madison was pretty sure she saw him flinch. "I didn't tell him anything about the 'situation' if that's what you're worried about." "I'm not worried," he said. "But thanks for your concern." Liar. His whole body was tense. "What was the man's name?" Jackson asked. He didn't know his boss's name? "Let me see. She adjusted her glasses so she could read her notes again. "I was actually surprised that I was able to speak with the president of L & L directly. He was very kind and, here it is, his name was Jamie." Jackson did not look pleased, but she didn't care. "Jamie," she went on, "described you as tenacious,

efficient, smart, and knowledgeable. But also a little--" She stopped, shut the notebook, and stuffed it back in her purse. "A little what?" "Oh, nothing. It's not important." But Jackson's stern expression told her just the opposite. "Boy, Jamie was right about you," she said. "If you must know, he said you were known to be a little bullheaded at times. But he was also considerate enough to call you his number one man." "Is that so?" She nodded, happy with herself for saving money by doing the investigation on Jackson Lang herself. "Everything looks in order," she went on. "I checked with a friend of mine at police headquarters and you have no criminal history to speak of. A few speeding tickets...but other than that, I don't see anything to worry about. Being that you work for L & L, I assume you make a decent living. But I must also assume, since you haven't backed out of our deal yet, that you are having financial difficulties." She reached up and anchored her hair behind her ears. She was beginning to feel much more at ease, as if she was actually in control of the situation. "I want to assure you I will be more than happy to pay for groceries and utilities. You needn't worry about any of that. Here," she said, handing him a new set of papers. He took the papers, but damn it all, his fingers brushed against the sensitive part of her palm, sending rows of tiny goose bumps up her arm. "They're questions," she said, feeling discombobulated. "I can see that." She inwardly chastised herself for reacting to every touch and look he sent her way. Sitting up taller, she said, "If you could answer all of the questions in as much detail as possible, I'd appreciate it. That way, when people ask me about you, I'll have answers." Jackson flipped through the pages, his motions tense. Randomly, he read a few questions aloud. "Do I drink coffee?" He turned another page. "Do I have any tattoos or noticeable birth marks? What is the worst thing I've ever done to an animal?" He looked at her as if she were mentally unstable. "I've never hurt an animal in my life." He snapped his fingers, causing her to jump. Then he said, "Do spiders count?" She forced a smile before averting her gaze. "Am I making you nervous?" he asked. "Of course not." She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. "Are you going to order coffee, Mr. Lang?" "No, thanks. And call me Jackson." He glanced back at the papers, giving her the opportunity to study the faint lines across his forehead and the wave of glossy black hair falling across his brow. "I do have a problem with one thing," he said, setting the papers aside. "What's that?" "It would make good business sense, being that you want this arrangement to appear on the up and up, for you to move into my home after we're married instead of the other way around." "I understand what you're saying...I mean, that would probably be the sensible thing to do...I guess, but-" "There's plenty of room," he assured her, "and that would take care of the cooking problem since I'm sure Chris wouldn't mind cooking for one more." "Chris? Your girlfriend?" He actually grinned. "Chris is a man. You'll like him." Madison nearly fell out of her chair. Jackson was gay!

She put a hand to her chest. For the first time in fifteen minutes, no, make that days, she took a breath...a long deep breath. "I--I think you're absolutely right," she said with too much enthusiasm. "What a fantastic idea. Having Chris there will make everything easier." She smiled, the kind of smile reserved for really great stuff--like winning the lottery. The man was gay. Which explained why Jackson had acted so mysterious. He needed a different image at work. That's why he was doing this. She couldn't have planned it any better if she had tried. Mr. Mysterious wasn't such a mystery after all. The next three months would be like living with a couple of girlfriends. "So tell me about Chris," she said excitedly. "He enjoys cooking?" "That's pretty much what he does." "You mean he's a chef?" A hundred pounds of worry floated right off of her shoulders. "What restaurant does he work for?" "He only cooks for me." "Oh, I see." Evidently, poor ol' Chris had the raw end of the deal. "I'm glad you agree," Jackson said. "Now, about the wedding. Under the circumstances, I feel a quick ceremony without fanfare would be best." "Oh, yes," she agreed. "I hadn't given it much thought, but that sounds good to me. Little fanfare." She waved a hand through the air. "Heck, no fanfare!" She couldn't stop grinning. "Mind telling me what you suddenly find so damned amusing?" Giddiness threatened to consume her. "It's just that I've had this terrible headache for days. But all of a sudden it just sort of went 'poof.'" She swept her hand through the air. "It just disappeared." She leaned back, relaxed. "By the way, did you get a chance to do any research on me?" He nodded. "Like your friend said, you're as clean as a whistle." That statement wiped the smile right off her face. She was as clean as a whistle and as boring as an old tree stump. She sighed. The meeting had worn her out. Madison pushed her chair from the table and stood. "Let me know if you have a problem with any of those questions," she said. Then she gestured toward the back of the cafe. "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back." She walked to the back of the Cafe and made a left into a darkened alcove. Now that she was out of view, she leaned against the cool wall and closed her eyes. She didn't need to use the restroom, she just needed a few moments to herself. She had been hoping to find a nice, gentle sort of man--someone safe like Jackson. Everything was working out perfect. "He may be self-assured and too darn good-looking," she said aloud, "but he's--" "Excuse me," Jackson said, appearing out of nowhere. Her face felt as if it were on fire, as if she were in high school and had been caught cheating on a test or making out with a boy in the hallway. Dream on. She'd hardly kissed any boys at all...not until Steve. She had thought Steve truly loved her, too. He'd been a patient man, and she always felt safe with him, even after he convinced her that sleeping with him was the only way she could prove her love for him. And so they made love...and shortly afterward he left her. Returning to the matter at hand, Madison unglued herself from the wall and looked at Jackson, wondering why he'd followed her. She tried to walk back to the main section of the coffee shop, but Jackson stood in her way. "You're done looking over the questions?" she asked him. "Plenty of time for that later. I could tell that you were upset. The restrooms are on the other side of the building. I wanted to make sure you were okay." There was something about the look in his eye that made her uneasy. He took a step toward her; a hawk hovering over his prey before swooping down for the kill. At such close range, she couldn't help but notice the strong cords of his neck. The earthy scent of him tickled her nose. Instinct caused her to take a step back. Once again she had her back to the wall. "I think you should know that I think we'll get along just fine," he said, taking another step forward so

that she was trapped between his chest and the wall. "Oh," she said. "I'm g-glad." ~~~ Jackson moved closer. She sure could play the innocent, he thought, enjoying the fact that he was making her squirm. She managed to play the demure, bashful young lady as if she'd been rehearsing for the part all of her life. But she looked scared, too. Of what? She was the one who came up with this harebrained idea. He just happened to be the unlucky guy who had managed to get himself caught right smack in the middle of it all. If only she knew why he was really here--because her cousin, Heather, had asked him to marry her only so he could pull out at the last moment and stop Madison from getting her greedy hands on money that didn't belong to her. What would Madison do if he told her he knew exactly what she was up to--that he knew she was trying to swindle them all? If he told her everything, maybe she'd drop the innocent act. He'd see her true colors then, wouldn't he? And then she'd find some other poor foolish sap to marry her. This marriage proposal of hers had nothing to do with neglected children and that's what really ticked him off. If Madison wanted to play games, Jackson decided, he was going to make sure he won the first set. She wanted rules. Well, good. Rules were made to be broken. And he aimed to make that perfectly clear right from the start. He wasn't fond of being forced into anything--especially marriage--and although his predicament wasn't entirely her fault, she was the pawn in the game--the one who made the first move, but not necessarily the one who would make the last. He didn't want to be standing here anymore than he wanted to dive off a cliff. But here he was, and he didn't like the frightened little girl look in her big dollface eyes when she looked at him, or the way her bottom lip kept getting caught between her straight white teeth. He especially didn't like the fact that he was attracted to her. Since when had bespectacled, no-frills women in overalls caused him to take notice? "I like you," he said as he watched her crystal-blue eyes grow bigger. "You've got gumption. And you have pretty eyes, too." He slid the glasses from her face. Using his free hand, he tilted her chin upward so she had no choice but to look at him, really look at him. "I don't know what you're trying to hide," he said, "but it's not working. You can't hide eyes like those." She grabbed her glasses from him, slid them over the bridge of her nose and pushed away from him so she could march back to their table. He followed her. There was no way he was going to make this easy on her. He didn't believe the disadvantaged-kid story any more than he believed she was the shy, innocent woman she pretended to be. The easy sway of her hips beneath soft denim mesmerized him as he followed after her. Today her hair hung loose about her shoulders and back. Long silken dark hair that made his fingers itch to touch it--see if the silky strands felt as soft as they looked. He shook his head at how easily she caused him to lose his concentration. If she was determined to go through with this charade, the two of them would be married. And then he would have plenty of time to teach Mrs. Madison Lang a lesson she would not soon forget. ~~~ Before taking a seat at their table, Madison turned to face him and found herself inches from his chest. Damn him, anyhow. He was enjoying this. "There are a few more things I should mention before you make your final decision." Her headache was back in full force. Flustered, Madison looked out the window and

saw a tall, blond-haired woman coming their way. "I can't believe this!" He followed her gaze. "What?" "It's Barbara. She's coming this way." "Your friend?" "Sort of, I guess." The woman was actually a close friend of her cousin Heather, but there was no need to tell him that. "She lives nearby," Madison explained. "It's too soon for anyone to see us together. Barbara will never fall for it. As soon as she sees that this thing between the two of us is nothing but a farce, she'll run off to report any doubts she has to my cousin Heather." Her heart raced. "I wasn't going to let anyone meet you until it was absolutely necessary." Barbara saw the two of them through the window. Her eyes lit up. Madison stepped away from him. "Here." She grabbed the questionnaire from the table and tucked it under his arm. "If you could answer these questions, maybe we could meet again this weekend to discuss them. By then we should know enough about one another and if all goes well, we can--" "Get married." "Exactly." Her stomach turned. "Oh, I forgot to tell you the most important part. Mr. Razzano, the executor in charge of the trust fund, wants to meet you as soon as possible." "He needs to meet me?" "Afraid so. He said it was standard procedure in cases such as this. In accordance with the will, he needs to make sure you're--you know--suitable. Will Saturday work for you?" "Fine," he said under his breath, although he looked more than a little put out. She nodded. A rush of cool air entered the coffee shop along with Barbara. The woman had a thick crop of blond hair piled on top of her head. "What a surprise. How are you, Madison?" "Fine, thank you. So nice to see you." Madison gave the woman an awkward hug before stepping back so that she could make introductions. "Barbara, this is Mr.--this is Jackson--my fiance." Barbara's mouth fell open. "Congratulations. I had no idea." Jackson shook the woman's hand and then casually draped his arm over Madison's shoulder. "Unfortunately, Jackson's in kind of a hurry," Madison said, her gaze directed at his hand as it dangled precariously close to her breast. "He has important business that can't wait another minute." She looked up at him, and then finally nudged him, hoping he would take the hint. After an awkward moment, he winked at Madison. "That's right. In fact, I'm late...very late for that very important meeting I told you about. I should've been there hours ago." Madison tried not to laugh. He was a horrible liar. Jackson dropped his hand from her shoulder and offered it once again to Barbara. "It was nice meeting you." Barbara didn't look the least bit convinced, not until Jackson turned back to Madison and brought her tight against him, lifting her from the ground in the process. "I'm going to miss you, sweetheart," he said. Madison pressed her palms against his hard chest, her body snug within his well-muscled arms. "Put me down, Jackson, honey. Please. That's enough." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barbara blush. Jackson's little stunt was working. Once again he seemed to have full control over the situation--and that bothered her, especially when he let her body slide much too slowly down his chest until only the tips of her toes touched the ground. "I'll see you tomorrow," Jackson said, his mouth brushing against her ear, his voice a throaty whisper. Before she could respond, he covered her lips with his. His mouth felt warm and inviting and the kiss was incomparable to anything she'd ever experienced before. For a long heavenly moment she forgot, or maybe she just didn't care, that she was standing in the

middle of a coffee shop, kissing a gay man, with Heather's friend looking on.

Chapter Three Seven o'clock sharp the next morning, Jackson marched into Jamie's office. "What the hell were you thinking?" Jackson asked his brother, irritated by the absurd turn his life was taking. Not only was he being pressured into marrying, his brother was pretending to be his boss and handing out information as if it were candy on Halloween. And the kiss. Jackson had definitely enjoyed kissing Madison. The kiss had not been part of the plan. He needed to forget about the kiss. Leaning over his brother's desk, he said, "What the hell prompted you to answer Madison Brown's questions when she called?" Jamie tapped his pen on the smooth marble desktop. "I thought it was the perfect opportunity to let the woman know what kind of man she was getting mixed up with. If I had refused to give her the information, she might have talked to someone else...maybe your assistant, someone who might have told her all about your many irritating habits." Jamie set the pen down and rubbed his chin. "Instead, she only heard the good stuff." "Bullheaded, stubborn?" Jackson growled. "You call that the good stuff?" "Oh, that. Well, I didn't want you to sound too good. She might have caught on otherwise." "Very clever of you." Jamie grinned. "You've gotten yourself into one fine mess this time, big brother. By the way, when are you going to introduce your fiancee to Sheila?" An overwhelming urge to wipe that smug look clean off his brother's face struck Jackson. Instead he took a seat in the chair facing Jamie's desk and said, "Sheila understands our relationship. We're friends. And I really don't think you're the one to be giving me advice. A thirty-one-year-old man who has yet to see the same woman twice isn't exactly someone I want to listen to when it comes to relationships." Jamie shook his head. "Whatever. But I'm not going to feel sorry for you when you're old and gray and all alone in that big house of yours." Gripping the rounded arms of the leather chair, Jackson tried to relax. "I'm not going to allow you to get to me this time, little brother. I'm doing this for Walter." "Walter was like a father to me, too, but he wouldn't want you to do this. The whole idea of it is absolutely insane." "Walter loved Heather," Jackson said. "He made me promise I'd take care of her. That's what I'm doing." Jamie picked up a manila folder and handed it to him. "Dick Price, the investigator you hired, brought this by earlier." Jackson had told Madison he'd already checked her out, but that wasn't the whole truth. Until this very moment, he only knew what Heather had told him, but all of that was about to change. He opened the folder and skimmed through the contents until he came to an old article from the Los Angeles Times. Madison was on the front page, only her face was rounder and her dark hair was much shorter--same thick-rimmed eyeglasses, same big eyes. The headline read: "George Harris of Harris Athletic Shoes Dies." In the picture, Madison appeared grief-stricken as she stood over her grandfather's coffin. Heather and Walter stood in the foreground. "Mr. Price said he wanted to talk to you and that he would get in touch with you later." Jamie pointed at the picture of Madison. "Tell me that's not the woman you're going to marry."

Paying little attention to his brother, Jackson flipped through the investigator's facts sheet. Madison Anne Brown was born in Burbank, California. Her mother and father had never married. Her mother disappeared soon after she was born, leaving her to be raised by her father, who married Heather's aunt when Madison was very young. She was twelve-years old when the marriage fell apart. Madison was taken in and adopted by Heather's grandfather, George Harris. Although Madison was raised by George, she stayed with her father most weekends. Thanks to George, Madison attended the University of Southern California, where she majored in business. Currently she worked as an accountant for Castle and Klein, a CPA firm. She certainly had her share of heartache growing up. As Jackson turned one page after another, he didn't like the knot forming in his gut. He snapped the folder shut. "That's her, all right." "Why are you really doing this? Heather wasn't the one who fed and clothed you...or put you through school. Write her a check if you must, but don't marry this woman for Heather's sake." "It's only for three months. After this is done, Heather promised she wouldn't ask anything else of me. Besides, Heather plans to give the money to charity. She's only trying to stop her cousin from throwing millions of dollars away." "Fine," Jamie said. "If you're going to go through with this crazy plan, we might as well take advantage of the situation." "How so?" "The Starlight Ball is this Friday night," Jamie said. "It's one of the biggest fundraisers in Los Angeles, and our potential client, Peter Bingham, will be there. Bingham prefers to do business with responsible men, married men with families, if you catch my meaning." Jackson looked at his brother. "So?" "So...knowing how Mr. Bingham feels about family men, if I were to tell Bingham you were engaged, that might just seal the deal." Jamie quirked a brow. "You could introduce Madison to Bingham and his wife at the ball next Friday night." The muscles in Jackson's shoulders tightened. "Why don't we just pretend the family man is you?" Jamie chuckled. "Get real. Bingham would never believe it. And besides, you're the one who made the deal with the devil, not me. But at least now you might actually get something out of this marriage after all. Once Bingham signs on the dotted line, it'll be smooth sailing for L & L. This is the break we've been waiting for. Say the word and I'll give Bingham a call." "I don't know. It's not ethical." Jamie laughed. "You, the man who is planning to marry a stranger for three months and then bow out at the last minute, is talking to me about ethics?" Jamie ran his fingers through untamed hair. "Listen," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "Married or not, you know we deserve the Bingham account. We've worked with the old man for years and he just keeps stringing us along. He's playing with us, Jackson. It's time we gave him a taste of his own medicine." There was a long pause before Jackson said, "Okay, yeah, sure...go ahead." He came to his feet. Jamie smiled. "For a predictable, no-nonsense kind of a guy, you sure can surprise the hell out of me sometimes." He straightened the papers stacked on his desk. "So, have you two lovebirds set the date yet?" Jackson tried not to let his brother's offbeat sense of humor get to him. Jamie could be exhausting. "It'll be sooner rather than later. And it isn't going to be a formal affair, so don't get out your tux. A quick ceremony before a judge and it'll be over. I want the whole thing quiet...out of the public eye." "Let me take care of the ceremony," Jamie said. "We'll have it at my house. We'll invite Bingham and a few other clients who would be put off if we didn't. If you're going to do this, let's do it right." The idea of letting his brother get involved worried Jackson, but one way or another Jamie would find a way to get his paws in the middle of it all. He always did. Besides, inviting a few important guests

would solidify their business relationship with Bingham. What harm could it do? "No pictures. I promise," Jamie added. "Small and quaint." When Jackson reached the door, he turned back to his brother and said, "small and quaint." "I promise." Jamie smiled. "Leave it to me, big brother. Just leave everything to me." ~~~ Three hours later Jackson parked along East Palm Avenue and waited for Madison to return home. The sun was shining brightly, which contrasted with his dark mood. What was he doing here? It seemed ever since Walter's death he'd lost all sense. He crossed his arms and leaned against his Porsche Cayenne, reminding himself that Jamie's idea for him to ask Madison to the dance made sense. If he were going to marry Madison, temporary or not, he may as well make the most of it. And what could be more satisfying than the Bingham contract? The August heat felt good against his face as he looked around. Madison's house wasn't what he'd expected. It was small with lots of colorful wildflowers lining the cracked, but neatly swept, walkway. Planter boxes filled with greenery underscored the windows. Her home was quaint, a home that could easily belong to a teacher or a starving artist, not to an heir of a small fortune. Jackson glanced at his watch. It was five o'clock. He'd wait another fifteen minutes, he decided, and then head for home. Across the street, one of the neighbors stopped mowing the grass long enough to give him a friendly wave. Jackson lifted a hand in response and took in a whiff of freshly mowed grass. Jackson turned toward the street when he heard what sounded like a herd of dying cows headed his way. Instead of cows, he saw Madison behind the wheel of a beat-up Volkswagen Bug. The pieces of the puzzle didn't seem to fit. Where were all the tangible elements that constituted greed? As he watched Madison climb out of her car, he gestured hello with a tip of his chin and headed toward her. She looked surprised, maybe even pleased, to see him. She pulled out a fishing pole from the backseat and propped it on the fender of her car. "Jackson, what are you doing here?" He smiled at the charming picture she made with her dirt-smudged face and tangled hair. "I was in the area and I thought I'd stop by to say hello." Towering over her, he crinkled his nose at the pungent smell of fish. "Sorry," she said, waving her hands through the air. "I've been fishing." Even with her hair pulled up in a tangled web and smelling like fish, he felt drawn to her. Madison Brown had a natural, earthy way about her. No makeup. Flawless skin. Beautiful eyes. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "Nothing at all. Why do you ask?" "You're looking at me as if I have two heads, and I'm pretty sure I only have one." He smiled, something he seemed to do a lot when he was around her. "I was thinking how very pretty you looked." She nudged his arm with the elbow of her muddied arm and laughed. "Now that's a good one." He'd also been thinking about the kiss they shared the other day. One simple kiss that had managed to turn his world upside down. He couldn't forget the satisfying taste of her, like a refreshing iced tea on a hot day. He wanted to kiss her again, see if their first kiss was a fluke. "Do you want to come in?" "Sure," he said. "For a moment." Before she could snatch up her fishing pole, he picked it up and tucked it under his arm, along with the rest of her gear. "Lead the way."

The warped garage door creaked in protest as she lifted it fully open. "You can put that stuff in the corner over there." The inside of the garage was clean and well-kept, everything in its proper place. "So, you went fishing, huh?" "Yeah." She wrinkled her nose. "My first time." "Catch anything?" "I did. According to Adam, my fish was eight inches long." Adam. His insides twisted, and he scolded himself for feeling a moment of jealousy. "Adam," he said. "Your brother?" Her lips curved into a wry grin. "I guess you haven't done your homework, after all. I don't have a brother--or a sister, for that matter." "I guess not," he agreed, knowing full well from the detailed report he'd read that she was an only child. "Adam is one of the kids I mentioned yesterday." Jackson disposed of the gear. "Kids?" "CFC, remember? Disadvantaged children? Learning disabilities? Adam is one of many teens who come to the center to get a break from their problems. The volunteers and the kids gather in the big gray stucco building on Wilshire Boulevard. Maybe you would enjoy helping out some time. New faces are always welcome." "Sounds tempting," he said, and he actually meant it. Her smile was dazzling. She pulled her keys from her purse. "Adam's fourteen, and until today he'd never been fishing either." Jackson couldn't get a handle on her. Yesterday, Madison had looked scared to death of him. Today, she acted as if they had been friends for years. She opened the door that led from her garage into the house. He followed her inside. "I thought you worked as an accountant?" "I do. If you must know the truth," she said mischievously, "I called in sick. And," she said, giving him another ravishing smile as her eyes roamed over him from head to toe, "it seems I'm not the only one playing hooky today." ~~~ Madison was in the kitchen when she peeked over her shoulder at Jackson, who was looking at all the pictures lining her living room wall. Knowing he preferred men to women made it so easy to be around him. But it sure didn't stop her from noticing how good he looked in his tawny pants and white polo shirt. He smelled good, too, and he still had that unshaven, Indiana Jones look that made her wish he was straight. "Can I get you something to drink? How about a bite of my famous apple pie?" "You baked a pie?" Madison laughed at the expression on his face...as if he'd never met a woman in his life who could actually bake. "I may look like a sophisticated woman," she held up her smelly, dirty hands, "but I can bake. Maybe your chef--" She winced, trying to remember his name. "Chris," he said as he joined her in the kitchen. "That's right...Chris. Maybe he'll have some baking tips for me." She crooked her neck in order to look into Jackson's eyes, wishing she hadn't when a jolt of awareness struck her, reminding her of how his mouth had felt on hers. She quickly looked away. "I'll have to take a rain check on the pie," he said. "But I do need to talk to you about something." She went to the sink and washed her hands. The sudden seriousness of his tone made her heart thump

wildly against her chest. Did he come today to tell her he couldn't go through with the marriage? Of course he did. Gay or not, he was a man. Men were not dependable and they certainly didn't stick around very long. "You're not going to hurt my feelings if that's what you're worried about," she lied. She would be depressed for weeks knowing she couldn't even entice a gay man with a hundred thousand dollars. Grabbing a towel, she wiped her hands. "We hardly know each other, so I understand if you and Chris refuse to be a part of this." A look of confusion swept over him. "I came here to ask you to the Starlight Ball this Friday night. I realize it's late notice, but I--" "Did you say the Starlight Ball?" Her eyes widened. "The annual ball held at the Beverly Hills Hotel? The one that's talked about for months afterwards?" He laughed. "That's the one." She jumped into his arms and hugged him tight before she remembered she smelled like fish. She stepped back and blushed. "I'm sorry," she said as she grabbed a clean towel from the kitchen drawer and began wiping him off. "The Starlight Ball. I must be dreaming. Ever since I was a little girl I've dreamed of attending." She looked at him again and stopped wiping with the cloth when she saw a funny look in his eye as he leaned toward her. Certain he was about to kiss her again, she closed her eyes, lifted her chin and softly puckered, waiting patiently for the kiss, hoping it wouldn't be nearly as nice as yesterday, hoping it would disgust her this time so she could get over her infatuation with him. But seconds passed and nothing happened. She opened her eyes. He was still there, an all-knowing grin plastered on his face as he pulled loose a long, damp weed from her hair. "Here," he said. "I thought it might be alive, but I was wrong." Her face heated. She took the debris from him and disposed of it. Turning back toward him she said, "I really do need to get out of these clothes." "You'll go to the ball then?" "Oh, I would love to--" She shook her head. "--but I can't. I'm sorry. I have nothing to wear. I couldn't possibly." "I'm sure you could find something. Besides, you'd be doing me a favor by coming. I have a client who's partial to working with responsible men...men with families. Having my fiancee on my arm will help make a good impression." She started to protest again, but found herself looking into his gorgeous eyes and knew in that moment she would regret it for the rest of her life if she said no. Besides, she would be helping him out by attending, and that's what their relationship was all about. Helping each other and, in turn, helping the kids at CFC. "Yes," she said. "I'll go." ~~~ Stepping out of the shower an hour later, dripping wet, Madison inwardly scolded herself for agreeing to go to the ball. The thought of showing up at the ball in one of her old dresses, made her feel sick. She had no business attending such an event. Talk about being a fish out of water. She heard her cell phone ringing, but she couldn't find the damn thing until she lifted the pillows from her bed. She snapped her cell open and listened, surprised to hear Heather's voice. But then she remembered running into Barbara and the call suddenly made sense. "Heather," she said. "How are you?" "I'm holding up considering all I've been through since Grandfather's death and then Walter's." "I'm sure things have been difficult for you."

"Barbara told me she ran into you the other day at a coffee shop. Is it true? Are you getting married?" Yep, news traveled fast. "It's true," Madison conceded. "It was all sort of quick and unexpected." "How wonderful for you. Barbara mentioned that your fiance is quite handsome." "Yes--yes, he is." "I called to see if you were busy Friday evening. I was hoping to stop by and congratulate you in person." "I'm afraid I won't be here. Jackson is taking me to the Starlight Ball." "My, my, you are full of surprises, aren't you? Do you have a dress? I heard you've lost a lot of weight and I believe we are about the same height. You could borrow one of my gowns." "Oh, I couldn't." "I insist. I have the perfect dress for you. The color would set off your exquisite blue eyes." "I can't impose, really." Madison glanced at her bed, where she had already laid out the only three dresses she owned: a faded, flowery print; a very outdated hot-pink number; and a beige dress accented with big brass buttons. "I insist," Heather said again. Madison couldn't help but wonder if this was truly her step-cousin, Heather Garrett, the same person who had gone out of her way to make most of her life miserable? Back in high school, when Madison lived with Grandfather, Heather would steal every friend Madison brought home, especially boys. It didn't matter that Heather was six years older, the boys loved the attention. On second thought, maybe she should borrow Heather's dress. "That's very generous of you, Heather. But only if you're absolutely sure." "I'll have my driver deliver the dress and a few accessories first thing tomorrow." After hanging up, Madison felt strange about borrowing Heather's things. Her cousin never did anything just to be nice. What was she up to?

Chapter Four Jackson glanced around the ballroom--ten thousand square feet of extravaganza. The room was set up for dancing beneath myriad crystal lights suspended from the soaring ceiling. He looked from the gold detailing above the doors and mirrors to the watch encircling his wrist. "Looks like you've been stood up," Jamie said in that wry tone of his that often made Jackson's teeth clench. "Madison said she was running late and insisted I meet her here," Jackson informed his brother. "She should be here soon." The two brothers stood near the entrance, each distracted by their own thoughts when Peter Bingham and his wife entered the ballroom. Jamie waved the Binghams forward and gave Mrs. Bingham a friendly kiss on the cheek. Irene Bingham was always the epitome of grace and charm...just like his little brother, Jackson thought. Jamie was in tip-top form tonight and Jackson was sure his brother already had all the ladies, young and old, dreaming of being held in his arms tonight. Peter Bingham shook Jackson's hand. "So where is this lovely fiancee of yours?" "She'll be arriving any moment," Jamie cut in before Jackson could get a word out. "Madison spends her spare time helping the disadvantaged children in our fine city, and it seems, once again, she couldn't pull herself away on time, not even for a spectacular event such as this. Isn't that right, Jackson?" "How sweet," Irene chimed in. "Not too many people like that left in the world, giving freely of their time...so willing to help others." "That's right," Jamie agreed with exaggerated enthusiasm, "she's one of a kind." "I do believe your brother has piqued our curiosity," Mr. Bingham commented. While Irene spoke to her husband, Jackson shot Jamie a menacing glare for putting him in such an awkward position. Madison should have been here thirty minutes ago. What was he thinking inviting a woman he hardly knew to an event such as this? The problem was that he wasn't thinking at all. In fact, Jackson couldn't remember the last time he'd had a rational thought... and there lie the crux of the problem. Every jumbled thought left Jackson the moment his gaze fell upon a beautiful woman entering the ballroom. The young woman was without an escort and everyone in the room seemed to be gazing her way as if Cinderella herself had just arrived. A silk dress clung to her slender hips and dark curls swept over creamy shoulders. Without prompting of any sort, Cinderella looked his way. Jackson nearly choked. It wasn't Cinderella at all. It was Madison Brown. No over-sized glasses framed her eyes tonight. A pale blue gown hugged her small waist, flowing to the ground in satiny waves. One shoulder peeked out from beneath a delicate shawl and her small breasts were thrust against the silky fabric for all to see. Admiration turned to anger when Jackson realized he'd been duped. Since meeting her, he hadn't been able to erase the nagging voice that told him Madison Brown wasn't the woman Heather said she was. The way Madison dressed, her mannerisms, her smile: none of her characteristics had jibed with Heather's depiction of her. Until now.

Less than twenty-four hours after Madison told him she had nothing to wear, she appeared with diamonds all but dripping from her throat and ears. ~~~ Madison clutched her silk purse as if it were a lifeline. It had taken every bit of courage she could muster to leave the cab and enter the hotel ballroom. Not used to wearing makeup or dressing up, Madison didn't feel like herself; she had yet to determine if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Admittedly, she felt like a princess. With long satiny gloves gliding past her elbows, upswept hair, and honest-to-God cleavage, not to mention the glittering jewels adorning her neck and ears, she'd hardly recognized herself in the mirror before she left home. Her gaze roamed over all the shimmering gowns and handsomely dressed men, making her feel thankful that Heather had been kind enough to loan her the gown along with all of the accessories. Maybe Heather had changed after Walter's death. Perhaps losing the love of her life had stirred something deep within her heart, and now Heather wanted to make amends to the people she'd hurt in the past. All thoughts of Heather disappeared the moment she spotted Jackson. Her heart skipped a beat. Above the crisp whiteness of his shirt, his face looked bronzed and utterly captivating. He easily stood out from the crowd. The sight of his broad shoulders beneath a fitted tuxedo took her breath away. She felt tingly and hot beneath his gaze. As Jackson came forward, she noticed a frown creasing his brow. He took a small bow and said, "I'm glad you could join us." His gruff tone and stiff manner confused her. "I'm sorry I'm late. I didn't realize how much time all this primping would take. I'm used to throwing on the old--" She stopped herself in mid-sentence when she noticed a bored look on his face...as if he didn't believe a word she was saying. "Is something wrong?" "No. I was just admiring your gown and those jewels." An older gentleman came up behind Jackson. "So this is your lovely bride-to-be," he said. An elderly woman stepped forward, too, introducing herself as Irene Bingham, Peter Bingham's wife. Next to approach was a younger man who leaned into the huddle and tried to steer the older gentleman away. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea, Mr. Bingham. Jackson's fiancee is charming, but this woman is not--" "--is not happy with me at all for failing to make introductions sooner," Jackson interrupted, cutting the younger man off. "Peter and Irene, I'd like you to meet my fiancee, Madison Brown." "Very pleased to meet you," Madison said, extending a gloved hand. Madison then offered her hand to the younger man. Instead of putting her gloved hand to his lips as the other men had done, this young man pulled her to his chest and gave her a tight squeeze. "That's enough, little brother," Jackson growled as he separated them. "That'll do." The young man took a step back. "My, my, but you look beautiful tonight, Madison." Jackson had a brother? Irene chuckled. "Jamie is quite the charmer, isn't he?" Playing along, Madison feigned a knowing smile. She had no idea Jackson had a brother. If not for the same dark eyes, she never would have guessed they were related. "If I were you, Jackson, I'd keep an eye on Jamie," Peter Bingham said. "He might try to steal your bride-to-be right out from under you." "I'm afraid she only has eyes for Jackson," Jamie said sadly. Blushing, Madison glanced at Jackson, but he seemed to be a million miles away.

~~~ Jackson watched Irene Bingham take Madison's elbow and pilot her away as she chattered on excitedly about tonight's affair. "Your fiancee is absolutely charming," Peter said when the women were out of earshot. With his gaze sharply focused on Madison, Jackson nodded. Madison was a chameleon--bashful and nervous when they first met, skittish at the coffee shop, easy going and relaxed the other day in her kitchen, and now...tonight...something else altogether. Tonight it seemed she had cracked open her cocoon and was ready to flutter her wings. "I forgot to tell you," Jamie told Jackson. "Bryce Archer was looking for you earlier." The mention of Archer's name, a major competitor and a man with a chip on his shoulder, caused a tic to set in Jackson's jaw. The last man he wanted to see tonight was Bryce Archer. Peter Bingham wasn't paying any attention to Jackson or Jamie. He was watching his wife as if he were seeing Irene for the first time. Obviously the man was very much in love with the woman he'd married so many years ago. "It appears my wife is ready to dance," Mr. Bingham said. "Since I'm not getting any younger, I better get out there." Excusing himself, Mr. Bingham caught up to the women, exchanged a few words with Madison, and then escorted his wife to the dance floor. Jackson turned to his brother. "We better keep an eye on Bingham. Archer's going to try to get his clutches on the old man first chance he gets." "How can you even worry about Archer when you've got a beautiful woman waiting to dance? Why didn't you tell me she was knock-dead gorgeous?" "Looks can be deceiving. She's here for the same reason Archer is...money." "I do believe that's why we're all here," Jamie replied. "Regardless, that rock around her neck must be worth enough to support all of us for the next twenty years. She doesn't look hard-up for cash to me." "I would have to agree," Jackson said. "According to Heather, she spends money faster than the Federal Reserve can issue it." "Ah, well, if Heather says so, it must be true." Jackson angled a brow at his brother. "Are you going to dance with the insatiable monster, or not?" Jamie asked. "You go ahead. There are some people I need to talk to." ~~~ Madison watched Jackson cast her a fleeting nod before he walked off in the other direction, his complete lack of manners leaving her baffled. Was he annoyed with her for being late? The man had some nerve inviting her here and then pretending she didn't exist. Jamie approached her and offered his hand. "Sorry about all the confusion when you first arrived. Jamie Lang's the name." She took his offered hand. Was he the same "Jamie" she'd spoken to on the phone when she'd called Jackson's office? Did L & L stand for Lang and Lang? If so, that would mean Jackson Lang was rich...which meant he couldn't possibly need the money she had offered him. "Sorry if I was presumptuous earlier," Jamie added after she failed to say anything. "I don't usually take such liberties with women I hardly know." "Now why do I find that hard to believe?" She smiled. "You are the same Jamie I spoke to on the phone the other day, aren't you?" He raised his hands to the air. "Guilty as charged. I promise, though, I spoke nothing but the truth."

"Let's see," Madison put a gloved finger to her chin. "You did mention the words pigheaded and stubborn, which somehow leads me to believe that you were indeed telling the truth, Mr. Lang." The corners of his mouth curved upward. A charming man, she thought. He had the same rich brown eyes as Jackson's. But Jamie's face was lit up with delight, while Jackson's expression seemed to relay an underlying irritation with the world...or maybe just with her. It was hard to tell. ~~~ It was going to be a long night, Jackson figured, since he was beginning to see that Heather was right about Madison. He couldn't get over the innocent act she'd played out in her kitchen the other day. Telling him she didn't own a dress, and then appearing tonight wearing all but the crown jewels. But what did it matter? If Peter Bingham believed he was about to become a responsible family man, L & L Developing would get the contract they deserved and everybody would win. More importantly, if Jackson went through with this farce, he would be fulfilling his obligation to Walter. An hour later, after mingling and hobnobbing until his jaw ached from smiling, Jackson made his way through the crowd. He was in a surly mood, and he didn't want to be here. He wanted to find Madison and find an excuse to leave early. "Hey, Jackson, there you are." His friend Collin waved him over from the bar. Jackson maneuvered his way around silk gowns and tuxedos to get to his friend. He pulled out a stool and took a seat. "I've been trying to get in touch with you for days," Collin said. "Whatever happened with those crazy women we met?" Jackson ordered a drink. "I'm not sure you want to know." He'd hoped to avoid Collin tonight, but he should've known better. As owner of Access Computers, Collin was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Los Angeles. There wasn't a function one hundred miles outside of Los Angeles that he wasn't invited to. What not many people knew was that he would forever remain a bachelor. Collin had fallen in love at a young age, and he'd fallen hard. Unbeknownst to family and friends, he and Debra had eloped. Before they could share their news with the world, it was discovered that she had leukemia. Three months later, she died at her home surrounded by family. Something inside of Collin had died along with her. "I've been curious to find out how you got away from those ladies we met at the bar?" Jackson thought about how much, if anything, he wanted to tell his friend. "I hated leaving you there," Collin added, "but hey, those women were dangerous. I mean, come on-offering to pay a stranger to be your husband?" Dangerous wasn't the first word that came to mind, but it was a good start. "You're scarin' me, buddy. Tell me you didn't agree to marry her." "I had to." "You what?" Jackson glanced toward the dance floor where couples swirled about, everyone enjoying themselves. "We're getting married within the month, for reasons I'd rather not discuss at the moment. Just keep it quiet, will you?" "Oh, man." Collin waved the bartender over and ordered another round of drinks. Hundreds of people filled the ballroom, yet every time Jackson scanned the room, he easily spotted Madison in the crowd. Thirty minutes ago he saw her sipping champagne with Mr. and Mrs. Bingham. Fifteen minutes after that, she was laughing it up with a new acquaintance. Now she was talking to a group

of ladies and their husbands. At first glance he thought she was alone, but his jaw hardened when he saw Bryce Archer appear and whisper something into her ear. She answered with one of her charming smiles and then hooked her arm around Archer's and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. Where was his brother? Jamie was supposed to keep an eye on her. What was Jamie thinking, letting Archer get his clutches on his fiancee? The fact that Archer was his biggest contender for the Bingham deal was only half the problem. The worst of it was that the guy was a certified lecher; every move Archer made was calculated, aimed at manipulation and deceit. Collin's gaze followed Jackson's to the dance floor. "Whoa! That's some dish Bryce found himself, isn't it?" "That's not a dish, Collin, that's Madison Brown. My fiancee." Collin's face lost all color. "That can't be the same woman. Tell me it's not too late to change my mind." "You had your chance." Jackson stood. "I better save her. She looks as nervous as a cornered deer." "I don't know how much hunting you've done lately. She looks perfectly happy to me." Jackson released some hot air through his teeth. "I wouldn't go out there," Collin warned. "You're already on Archer's hit list for dumping his sister and stealing his biggest client. Why don't you let me handle this?" "I haven't seen Archer's sister in years," Jackson argued. "She's probably married with two kids by now. I hardly think he'd remember any of that. Besides, if you save her from Archer, I'd have to save her from you." Collin grinned. "Good point." Blaming Madison for his sour mood, Jackson drained his glass, and then crossed the room in long, ground-covering strides. He stopped at the edge of the dance floor and waited impatiently for the dance to end. When the music concluded and the applause faded, he weaved his way through the people on the dance floor. Madison stood in the center. After thanking Archer for the dance, she turned away, but the man wasn't ready to let her go. Archer took hold of her waist and whirled her back into his arms just as the orchestra started up again. His hands lingered on the small of her back. Jackson continued to make a path through entwined couples, nodding at Irene and Peter as he passed by. Jackson tapped Archer on the shoulder. "I believe my fiancee was saving this dance for me." "Apparently not," Bryce countered, holding Madison much too tight against his chest. People danced around Jackson, giving him unpleasant looks for getting in their way. One man politely asked him to take a seat and wait his turn. Jackson turned away to let them finish the dance when he heard Madison say, "Please let me go." She was trying to pull away, but Archer's hands were all over her. The man refused to let her go. Jackson had no desire to cause a scene. Not here. Not tonight. But Archer reeked of whiskey and the wobble in his step told him the man was drunk. Jackson raked a hand through his hair as he approached Archer again. "Wait your turn," Archer said, his voice slurred. "You've had too much to drink, Archer. And the lady is uncomfortable. Let her go." Red-faced, Archer pressed his hips up against Madison and rubbed against her before finally dropping his hands from her waist. "Jesus Christ. You'd think I was shagging the broad instead of dancing with her!" That did it. Jackson grasped Archer by the collar and took three steps until he was holding Archer against one of many marble columns lining the ballroom. His other hand clenched into a fist and drew back. "Don't," Madison pleaded. "He's had too much to drink." Men and women gathered around to gawk. The band stopped playing.

Jackson loosened his hold enough so that Archer's feet rested on the floor again. Teeth clenched, Jackson said in a low voice, "Touch her again and I won't hesitate to knock a few teeth out of that big mouth of yours. Someone call the man a cab," Jackson said over his shoulder. "You're not sending me home, you arrogant bastard." "You've had too much to drink, Archer. Go home." Jackson released his hold on the man and turned toward Madison. The wide-eyed terror in her eyes as she looked past him caused Jackson to swivel about just in time to receive one of Archer's fists in his eye. Jackson staggered backwards. Archer wasn't finished. He charged for him, both arms swinging. Jackson ducked and this time Archer's meaty fist hit Peter Bingham's face instead, sending the old man straight to the ground. Irene screamed. Jackson bent down to help Peter from the ground. "Jackson!" Madison shouted. It was too late. Archer lunged, causing Jackson to stumble backwards through the crowd as he tried to find solid ground. People divided like the Red Sea until Jackson bumped into a refreshment table. Punchbowls toppled, drenching the floor with ice cubes and red punch. Before he could catch his balance, both feet landed on scattered ice, and Jackson found himself skating across the floor, straight into a large marble breast belonging to a very stone-faced statue of Venus de Milo. ~~~ Madison froze when a camera angled toward her. Bright lights flashed as photographers marked the event for the morning papers. Jamie rushed in to help poor Mr. Bingham to his feet. Fifteen minutes later, Madison found herself sitting in a private parlor, watching Peter Bingham slap Jackson on the back in a kind of congratulatory embrace. The two men sat across from her, laughing and carrying on like two war dogs who had been to the front and survived to talk about it. Ridiculous. Irene Bingham entered the parlor with two damp towels. She handed one to Madison. Irene went to her husband and coddled him, holding the cloth to his bruised eye as she whispered soothing words into his ear. Madison was not ready to forgive Jackson for inviting her to such a prominent event, only to ignore her for most of the night before suddenly deciding to sweep in and play the part of the hero rescuing the damsel in distress. As if she needed a man to save her. It was a ridiculous notion. She could've easily handled Archer herself. It was enough to make her want to bruise Jackson's other eye. She glanced from the towel in her hand to Jackson, who happened to be looking her way. He lifted a brow, looking at her with irreproachable puppy-dog eyes, as if he were waiting for her to tend to his discolored face as any concerned fiancee would probably do. She rolled her eyes, marched over to where he sat, and plopped the rag over his bruised eye, holding it in place with one finger. Of all the men in the world to ask to be her husband, she had to go and pick Jackson Lang--an impossible, insufferable beast if ever there was one.

Chapter Five Early the next morning, Jackson slid into his car. As he adjusted the rear view mirror, he caught a glimpse of his sorry face. A few hours' sleep hadn't helped. His eye was framed by several shades of blue. Hell, his entire face looked a mess. How the hell was he going to get through the next three months married to the woman if he couldn't get through one night? Knowing he had to tell Sheila about his upcoming marriage wasn't helping his sour mood either. He and Sheila Sinclair had been seeing one another, on and off, for two years. They both had exceedingly busy schedules. Sheila was a defense attorney and she spent many weekends out of town. But when either of them was in the mood for companionship, and when their schedules allowed, they made time for each other. Sheila was intelligent and exquisite to look at, the sort of woman who caused men to take a long look as she passed by. Jackson knew from the beginning that Sheila wasn't the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He liked her. She liked him. No responsibilities, no obligations attached. Just the way he liked it. But he wasn't insensitive, which is why he intended to tell Sheila about his engagement. The problem was she was away on business--half way across the world. He wasn't about to give her the news over the phone. When she returned to the States, he would tell her everything in person. As he backed out of the driveway, visions of big blue eyes belonging to a woman who was everything he stood against floated through his mind. But if Madison was truly the sort of woman he stayed away from, why couldn't he stop thinking about her? Last night she'd surprised him--the last thing he'd expected was for the cute little duckling to turn into a swan. Grasping the wheel, he accelerated onto Santa Monica Boulevard. He wondered if the real problem was that he didn't want to feel responsible for Madison or anyone else. Once she became his wife, he was afraid he'd begin to feel accountable...even worse, duty-bound. It was as if he could already feel the old ball and chain snug about his ankle. He stopped at the light, reminding himself that he desired women with curvy hips and long legs. Nothing could explain his sudden attraction to a petite, small-chested woman who was obviously ill at ease with men. But none of that mattered, he told himself for the hundredth time. This union between the two of them was temporary. ~~~ "I can't get over the nerve of that man," Madison said into the receiver. "I don't know...the whole night sounds dreamily romantic to me," Jen said. "You wouldn't be saying that if you had been there." "As far as I'm concerned," Jen told her, "Jackson Lang is a regular Clark Gable. I wish I was the one marrying him. He was fighting over you, for Heaven's sake. You should be thrilled. How many women can honestly say they've had two men fight over them?" With the phone pressed to her ear, Madison slipped on her flats. "Jackson wasn't fighting over me. He was defending himself. The man is rich. And he has a boyfriend, Jen. Marrying me isn't the big sacrifice we first thought. He's obviously marrying me to get the Bingham deal, and at the same time using the false marriage to cover up his sexual preference--exactly why he was being so mysterious about his reasons for

agreeing to go through with this. So get the picture of Clark Gable right out of your head." "Okay," Jen muttered, "Rock Hudson then." Madison groaned at Jen's obsession with kings of Hollywood from the past. "It sounds to me as if Jackson needs a wife as much as you need a husband. So, if you ask me, it's all working out. But I worry about you, Madison. Ever since Steve messed with your head, you think all men see you as this sad little mouse. Take a good look in the mirror and wake up. No matter how mad you get at me for saying this, I'm glad you're marrying him." "I do understand that Steve put me down to bring himself up," Madison told her friend. "He called me a lot of horrible things, but I'm over all of that. I know who I am now. For the first time in my life, I feel good about myself." "I didn't mean to upset you." "You didn't. I'm fine. But, do me a favor, Jen. Don't forget who Jackson really is...and mostly, never forget that this is a temporary union." The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught Madison's ear. "Gotta go. He's here." "Okay," Jen said hurriedly. "I'll let you go, but on your way to the executor's office don't forget to ask Jackson about the wedding ceremony. You need to marry the guy quick or this is all for nothing." Madison said goodbye, grabbed her purse, glanced in the mirror, scolded herself for glancing in the mirror, and then finally ran out the door. Jackson was leaning against his car, looking just as handsome in denim and a button-down shirt as he had looked in his tuxedo last night. Maybe even better. Even with the shiner. He hadn't shaved, either, and the shadow of dark whiskers on his jaw only added to his appeal. He held open the passenger door for her and managed a cordial, "Hello." "Good morning," she said, as if last night never happened, ridiculous considering it was hard to miss the black and blue eye. She looked away from his damaged eye, refusing to feel any sympathy for the man. If he wanted to invite her to a ball and ignore her all night...fine. What did she care? In three months they would never have to see each other again. ~~~ Jackson shut the car door and came around to the other side. Everything about Madison set his teeth on edge, starting with her ponytail. Once again she seemed to be trying hard to come across as perky and innocent and it bothered him. Logically, he knew he had a choice in the matter of whether or not to marry her. The truth was he was angry with himself for being sucked into Heather's little plot to begin with. Heather had known from the start he would do anything she asked after Walter made him promise to take care of her. Jackson slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. He looked at Madison. She looked at him and smiled. An unexpected pang rose in his chest. She had no idea what she did to him. Even those ridiculous black-rimmed eyeglasses failed to turn him off. She had the kind of cherubic face that doll-makers dreamed about. A horrible thought struck him. Why the hell was he feeling anything at all, let alone pangs and thoughts of cherubic doll faces? Women didn't cause him pangs. By the time he merged onto the street every muscle he possessed was tense. The woman sitting next to him was bad news. The shiner he wore was a prime example. He'd never been in a fight in his life. But there he was last night, at the event of the year, a thirty-five-year-old man in a tuxedo, fighting for a woman he hardly knew. So what if there was bad blood between him and Bryce Archer? If

Madison wasn't an expert at looking guileless, he never would've felt the need to rescue her in the first place. "Are you okay?" Madison asked. "Fine, thanks." "Because if there's something bothering you--" Jackson hit the brakes a little too hard, swerved to the right, and came to a screeching stop at the side of the road. He looked her way, glaring at her, knowing he was angry at himself, but he couldn't stop himself from saying what he was feeling. "What do you want from me? It's not enough that I'm agreeing to marry you? You want me to live with you, follow your rules, and now I'm supposed to spill my guts, too?" His fingers clamped hard around the steering wheel. "Do you want to change the rules, Madison?" His voice grew softer, but not any gentler as his gaze fell to her lips. He lifted a finger and traced the outline of her mouth. "Because if you do..." She pushed his hand away from her face. "You didn't have to agree to any of this. We both made choices. Take me home. We'll forget the whole thing." "Not in this lifetime." He pulled back onto the street. "I don't back out of my commitments," he explained feebly before concentrating on the road stretching ahead of them. ~~~ The man baffled her. One minute Jackson wore a look of casual indifference, and then in the next his expression hinted at something else altogether, something resembling desire. Baffling or not, they needed to talk. "We'll be arriving at Mr. Razzano's office soon," Madison said. "As the executor of the trust, he'll want to ask you a lot of questions. From what I've gathered, Grandfather left Mr. Razzano a list of rules to follow if I were to get engaged. I have no idea what the man is going to ask, but if you don't mind, I think we should get a few things straight before we arrive." "For example?" "For instance, where does my sister live?" Madison questioned. "You don't have any sisters." "Just testing you," she said with a smile. Her attempt to be civil was useless. Jackson stared straight ahead, his thoughts seeming miles away. "What color are my eyes?" she asked next. "Hazel." She frowned. "They're blue," he ground out, as if the color made him angry. Sheesh. He was acting so strange. His profile was stern. No sign of humor whatsoever. Without further prompting, he added, "You sleep with a window open every night. You graduated from high school twelve years ago. You adore children and wouldn't mind having three or four of your own kids someday. You enjoy photography and singing, although you couldn't hold a tune if your life depended on it." She raised a brow, impressed. "You've held an assortment of jobs since college," he continued. "Let's see, you put your degree in tax accounting to work by becoming a waitress at Denny's--" "I needed the tips." "You were a hairstylist, a dog sitter, and now you're an accountant for Castle and Klein." "A senior accountant. And I watched one dog." "Finally," he said, "after dating some scrawny guy named Steve for too many years, you've sworn off men, but you're willing to sacrifice yourself and marry me, all because you want to help some kids."

There was a moment's silence. She was at a loss of words. She pointed a finger at him. "Those things were not mentioned in my--how did you--" "I have my ways." She shook that same finger at him. "Jen. You talked to Jen, didn't you? She said I couldn't hold a tune?" His smug expression told her she was right. "Well," she said in a self-satisfied tone, "I know a few things about you, too, Mr. Lang." "If we're going to convince Mr. Razzano that we're in love, don't you think we should be on a first name basis?" She snorted. "Do you want to know what I know, or not?" "Do I have a choice?" She didn't know diddly about him, but she wasn't going to let him figure that out. "I did some additional research of my own, and guess what Mr.--I mean, Jackson? I know that you're hiding something...something big, really big." She stared at him, waiting for a twitch of an eyebrow, any indication at all that would tell her she'd struck a nerve. Yeah, sure, she was nearsighted and needed new glasses, but she'd have to be blind not to see that those dark eyes of his were growing darker by the minute. "Ah-ha! You are hiding something," she said. "But it doesn't really matter. You want to know why?" He turned up the music a notch. "Because within ten minutes of meeting you, I knew all there was to know about you. You're arrogant. You're mulish, and worst of all, you're just plain mean." She got a raised brow out of that declaration. Let him chew on that for the rest of the day. ~~~ Mr. Razzano, a tall, thin man with a bald, pointy head, sifted through another file. Jackson glanced at his watch. The man had been rambling on for twenty minutes. As executor of the trust fund, it was Mr. Razzano's responsibility to determine whether he and Madison were truly in love. After three months, if Mr. Razzano believed everybody was on the up and up, he could distribute the money accordingly. Which meant the man would be shadowing their every move until Heather gave Jackson the go ahead to pull out of the marriage for good. "I'm going to direct my questions to Jackson first," Mr. Razzano said, "and then to you, Ms. Brown. Let's see--" Madison leaned forward to take a peek at the papers littering his desk, prompting Mr. Razzano to slide the papers farther away. The office was small and stuffy. There was one window in the place and the blinds were closed tight, shutting out all natural light. Twiddling his thumbs, Jackson tried not to think about all the work he had waiting for him at the office. He worked many weekends, too. It kept him busy, and besides, he enjoyed his work. Sheila had called him a workaholic more than once, but he wasn't sure he agreed. Despite the long hours he spent at the office, he made time for exercise. Jackson watched Madison finally give up trying to see Razzano's papers. She sat back in her chair with a sigh. Jackson draped an arm around the back of her seat and let his fingers settle on her shoulder. He felt her flinch. Sliding his thumb back and forth, he felt her body stiffen. Suddenly he found himself enjoying the very meeting he'd dreaded for days. "Where did you first meet?" Mr. Razzano asked after taking his time organizing his files. "At a sushi bar on Fifth Street," Jackson answered, wondering how that could be in any way relevant.

Madison's anxiety was palpable. She gave Jackson a wide-eyed look, patted his leg and said, "No, honey, it was at CFC, where I volunteer." Mr. Razzano narrowed his eyes. "Please, Ms. Brown, let your fiance answer the questions, if you don't mind." "That's fine," she said. "But I think it's important for you to know that our first meeting was more of a glimpse rather than a shake hands, how-do-you-do type of thing. That's why he's having a hard time remembering the exact moment we fell in love. I swear it was love at first sight. At least it was for me." "I only need to know where you met, not how," Mr. Razzano said, beyond irritated. With feigned innocence, she looked at Jackson, frustrating Mr. Razzano all the more when she added, "When I first laid eyes on Jackson, he was consoling a small boy who'd skinned his knee. My heart started doing this wild pitter-patter thing." Madison put a hand to her chest. "It was as if the child was Jackson's very own. Well, as you can imagine, my heart melted right then and there." Mr. Razzano looked to Jackson for help, but Jackson was actually enjoying the ridiculous act she was putting on so he merely shrugged, listening attentively as Madison described every detail of their first meeting. By the time she was done, even Jackson was convinced their very first meeting had happened just that way. He couldn't help but smile at all the animated expressions and hand gestures she made as she told her story. If Mr. Razzano had any hair on his head, he would've pulled it out. Instead he asked Jackson, "Have you ever been married before?" Madison opened her mouth, causing Mr. Razzano to growl. She clamped her mouth shut. "No," Jackson said. Madison smiled at him as if he were a child who'd just received one hundred percent on his first math test. "Where do you plan to live after you're married?" Madison raised her hand. "We were going to live at my place but after--" "Ms. Brown. If you can't wait your turn, I'm going to have to ask you to step into the other room until I'm finished with Mr. Lang." "Oh, that won't be necessary." Madison made a zipping motion over her mouth. "I promise. Not another word." Jackson gave her a tight smile. She was nervous, and he even found himself feeling sorry for her. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "That's what I love about her," Jackson told Mr. Razzano. "When she gets nervous, she just can't keep her cute little mouth shut for very long." She stiffened. The door to Mr. Razzano's office opened. A petite, gray-haired woman with a pencil tucked behind her ear stuck her head inside the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Helen Appleworth is here to pick up the papers you have for her." "If you'll excuse me for a moment." Mr. Razzano stood. He glanced from Madison to the file on his desk and opted to take the folder with him. The moment the door clicked shut, Madison turned to Jackson. "I can't believe you accused me of not being able to keep my mouth shut. And that man," she said, redirecting her anger. "For some reason he doesn't like me." Jackson gave her an incredulous look. "How could that be?" "I'm serious." "It doesn't matter if he likes you, or not," Jackson said. "It only matters that he believes you." "But why doesn't he like me?" she asked. "I can't begin to imagine." "You're mocking me."

Jackson was about to protest when she continued instead. "What did I do to him? I've been cooperative, polite, I--" Jackson had heard enough. He was worn out and cranky--tired of looking at her mouth. He reached over and pulled her chair closer so that he could stop her rambling with a kiss. His tongue grazed hers, prompting her to sample him, too. The taste of her reminded him of the sweet flesh of honeydew. Her lips were soft and pliable. He curved his hand beneath her silky hair and around the soft nape of her neck. Kissing her intoxicated him somehow, made him feel powerful and powerless at the same time. Mr. Razzano cleared his throat, announcing his return. Jackson drew away, smiling at Madison when she opened her eyes, looking as if she were awaking from a deep sleep. Her cheeks flushed when she realized they had an audience. "Sorry about the interruption," Mr. Razzano said, flustered by their behavior. "Now where was I? Oh, yes, question number three. Have the two of you become intimate?" "Excuse me?" Jackson asked. Mr. Razzano's face reddened. "We need to know these things..." Jackson tried to remain cool, but it wasn't easy. He sat up straight and tall, and then leaned over Mr. Razzano's desk, prompting the man to lean backward. "I don't know what's going on here exactly," Jackson stated firmly, "but our sex life is none of your business." "I-I'm sorry if I've offended you, Mr. Lang, but as you can see," he said, holding up a large file, "I have a list of questions I'm required to ask before I can determine if this relationship is genuine." "Who makes up those ridiculous questions?" "We have a committee that deliberates long hours to come up with specialized questions for each individual case." Jackson shot him a dubious look. "It took your committee hours to come up with 'have we had sex?'" The man's face paled. "Our sex life is none of your business. We're in love and we're getting married. What else do you need to know?" Mr. Razzano blinked excessively. "Well, I--uh--" Madison touched Jackson's arm. "It's okay." "No, it's not okay," he said. "This man owes you an apology." "He does?" "Yes, he does." Jackson stood, towering over Mr. Razzano. "Apologize to my fiancee right now for making her feel badly." Madison gave Mr. Razzano a meek, apologetic smile when he looked at her. "He doesn't have to--" "Yes, he does," Jackson said firmly. "The man was rude. He's getting paid to make sure your grandfather's money is properly distributed. The least he can do is treat you with respect." Jackson turned back to Mr. Razzano. "You hurt her feelings. She doesn't think you like her. Tell her that you do." The man cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Madison. "You appear to be a nice young lady--" Jackson narrowed his eyes. "I like you, Ms. Brown," Mr. Razzano said, his voice floundering. "I like you very much." "There," Jackson said, taking his seat again. "Was that so hard?" Mr. Razzano sunk lower into his chair. Madison managed a thin smile. "Okay then. I'm ready to answer some questions," Jackson said, rubbing his hands together. He looked at Madison. "How about you?" ~~~

Jackson climbed into the driver's seat and pulled out onto the road. Slinking into the leather seat of Jackson's expensive car, Madison groaned. "That definitely did not go as I'd hoped." "Well, it's never easy to lie," Jackson said. "A few harmless falsehoods," she argued, gazing at him, remembering how he'd stood up for her and made Mr. Razzano apologize. She'd felt bad for the man, but at the same time, she'd also felt incredibly protected. It was a nice feeling. And then there was the kiss...better than the first time. Much better. A prickly sense of excitement swept through her at the thought that he would soon be her husband. By the end of the week, she would be Mrs. Madison Lang. Her heart pounded against her chest. She was falling for the man. How could that be? That wouldn't do. She had to stay focused, remember why this could never work. He preferred men, she had to remind herself. And then she recalled one of the things Jackson had said in Mr. Razzano's office, and said, "Little critters?" "What are you talking about?" he asked. "When Mr. Razzano asked if we planned to have children, you referred to them as little critters." "That's what they are...damnable puppy dogs." "Maybe we should have talked about this sooner," she muttered. He took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a bewildered look. "What difference would it have made? You're not getting any hopeful fantasies about this whole marriage business becoming permanent, are you?" "Of course not," she said, ignoring the twinge in her heart. "I'm just not crazy about the idea of being married to a man who refers to children as critters." "Well, you should've stuck that one in your long list of rules and regulations." "I thought I did." "Wasn't in there." Her eyes narrowed. "Well, you certainly overdid the whole lovey-dovey business, wouldn't you say? And then telling Mr. Razzano that you got that black eye because of me. Crazy talk." She huffed. "You and that Archer guy had it in for each other. It had nothing to do with me." "True, Archer isn't high on my list of people to have lunch with, but the man was groping you, for God's sake. Maybe you were enjoying his attention, though. Next time I'll be sure to mind my own business." "The man touched my waist, for Pete's sake, and I don't know why you would even care, unless you were--" "Were what?" he asked. Her eyes grew wide. "Unless you were jealous." A part of her knew it was crazy to even entertain the idea, but it made sense. For the life of her she couldn't imagine why he'd gone off on Archer as he did unless he'd been jealous. "The truth is I didn't appreciate the way it looked--my fiancee dancing with the man, letting him slide his hands all over her in full view of everyone at the ball. It was downright humiliating." She blew air out through her nose. "That's ridiculous." She looked out the window and then quickly snapped her head back his way. "I spent a lot of time getting dressed up for that ball. And for what? To have you ignore me? Granted, we aren't the least bit attracted to one another--" "True." "--nor would we have met if I hadn't proposed--" She stopped in mid-sentence. "What's true?" "The part about the two of us not being attracted to each other." "I'm not your type? Is that what you mean? I'm not good enough for you?"

The frown lines on his forehead deepened. "This isn't going to turn into one of those question-answer sessions, is it?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "You know," Jackson said, "the sort of thing where you ask me if I think you're fat, and no matter what I answer I end up being the bad guy?" There was a long pause. His preference for men over women should have been enough reason for her not to worry about her feelings for him getting out of control...but, he didn't act gay, and that confused her. She tried to focus on the scenery outside but it was impossible. "If you're not attracted to me, why do you keep kissing me?" "Because the truth is, I am attracted to you--every bit of you. Your long black hair makes my palms itch to touch it," he said in a gruff manner, as if the mere thought of her hair angered him. "Your blue eyes remind me of endless oceans, and your lips were made for kissing." "You don't have to be sarcastic." Jackson kept his eyes on the road. "I wasn't being sarcastic. But now that we're on the subject," he added, "you asked me to do all I could to make Mr. Razzano believe I was in love with you. That's exactly what I did. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't enjoy one minute of it." "Well, neither did I," she said. "And I didn't appreciate your use of tongue. It was completely unnecessary." The sensuous corners of his mouth curved upward. "You sure didn't seem to mind at the time. And if I recall correctly, I don't believe I was the only one using tongue." He was right. She'd melted in his arms, like ice cream on a summer day. "When I heard Mr. Razzano coming down the hall," Jackson continued, "I saw it as an opportunity--a chance to make him think we couldn't keep our hands off of each other while he was gone. And once again, I don't remember you complaining about that when you kissed me in the coffee shop last week." "When I kissed you?" She clamped her mouth shut. Arguing with him was getting them nowhere. Madison gazed out the window and watched the trees and houses go by in a blur. "I guess you realize we need to get married in the next few days," she said, her voice calm as she talked about her wedding as if it were a barbecue. He didn't respond and she couldn't help but feel a little sad about the idea of living a lie for the next three months. She thought about what Jackson had said earlier about her fantasy of having kids and a house with a white picket fence. She hadn't realized it until he'd said it, but he was right. Deep down, she did want all of that someday. And a few times since meeting Jackson, she'd found herself hoping for a miracle--a little divine intervention that would cause him to look at her in a way that would make bells ring--a look that would tell her that all things happened for a reason--even marriage to a stranger. Twenty minutes later, his sleek car pulled into her driveway. Jackson didn't bother turning off the engine. He looked at her and said in a quiet voice, "About the wedding. If it's okay with you, my brother said he'd take care of the entire event--a modest affair at his place this weekend. He promised to keep it small. Will Sunday at noon work for you?" She nodded. "I have a few relatives I need to invite, but you can count them on one hand." Jackson climbed out of the car and came around to the other side and opened her door. "I'll call you tomorrow with directions." "Thanks for coming today." Once again she noticed his injured eye. The bruise had turned a new shade of purple. "You better get some ice on that. Does it hurt much?" "Not as much as my pride." She rested her gaze on his sensual mouth. "I know the next three months aren't going to be easy-complete opposites thrown together like this." He cupped his hand over her elbow and helped her out. "Maybe not, but if nothing else, it'll certainly

be interesting."

Chapter Six The following Sunday came much too fast. Madison followed Jen past the butler and straight into Jamie's Mediterranean-style Pacific Palisades home. With ocean and city views, the house was beyond grand with its floor-to-ceiling windows, wide open living space, and marbled entry. As she peered about in awe, her stomach fluttered. Caterers hustled back and forth between the sprawling kitchen and the backyard. Through the wide open French doors, she could see a long rectangular pool and wide expanse of a well-manicured lawn. The smell of jasmine wafted in the air. But why, she wondered, would they need so many people for such a small affair? "This is fun, isn't it?" Jen whispered. "I'd rather be having a root canal," Madison said under her breath. "Jackson said only a few people would be attending." "Look at you," Jen said. "You're getting all jittery, just like real brides do." "I am not getting jittery." Jen didn't argue further. She was too busy watching a tall, gorgeous man in an Oxford shirt and dark pants come toward them. The handsome man wore a white apron tied around his waist. He offered his hand. "Now which one of you lovely ladies is the bride?" After shaking his hand, Jen pointed at Madison. Although her friend could be exasperating, Madison decided she'd have to thank Jen later for forcing her to go shopping. So what if she'd be making payments on her new outfit for the next six months. The ivory suit she had on fit her snug around the waist, complimenting her small chest, instead of burying it. "I-I am the bride," Madison said as she took his offered hand. "You don't sound too sure." Amusement lined his voice. "Is it because you're already regretting the idea of marrying Jackson, or has he been telling you about my cooking?" Madison tilted her head in puzzlement. His smile broadened. "I'm Christopher." His fingers gripped firmly around Madison's. "But you can call me Chris." This man was Jackson's cook! Where was the hint of femininity, the slight bend of the wrist, anything? This guy was one hundred percent testosterone. He was tall, lean, and possessed a strong chin with a handsome dent creasing the center. Jackson's lover was downright heavenly. Jackson's brother, Jamie, entered the French doors and greeted them next. He gave Madison a peck on the cheek and then introduced himself to Jen as Madison tried to get a better look at Chris--her competition so to speak. It wasn't long before Jamie and Jen were off discussing interior design and Madison was following Chris to the kitchen. She took a seat on one of the swivel stools overlooking the granite countertop where he was working. She watched him cut up vegetables and fill mushroom caps with a mixture of cooked sausage, bread crumbs, and celery. "Do you need some help?" she asked, taking a celery stick he held out for her. "I've got it under control." Chris' eyes were a beautiful clear mossy green. "Jackson told me what's going on," Chris said. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" The question caught Madison off guard, but it made sense that Jackson would tell his partner everything. She swallowed a bite of celery. "Well, it is a lovely day for a wedding."

Every time Chris smiled, as he did now, he revealed a row of white, even teeth. She could see perfectly well how another man could fall for him. "I don't mean to give you the wrong idea," Chris added. "I've always had pretty good instincts about people, and well--you just don't look like the sort of woman who--" "I may not be the prettiest girl in the world," she interrupted, "but the marriage is only temporary. I won't get in your way, I promise. I just can't quit now. I have people counting on me." Chris set down his knife. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I was going to say was that Jackson can be very hard on people. You seem nice enough, and I hate to see him crush your spirit." "You and Jamie don't seem any worse for the wear," she added. "We don't live with Jackson every day." "Oh, I thought you did." He chuckled. "Live with Jackson? Me? I wouldn't last a weekend. I cook for him, but only because the pay is good. Jackson enjoys his privacy." A shapely woman with ash blond hair glided into the kitchen and handed Chris a bag of carrots. "Here you go, honey." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. Chris kissed her back, prompting Madison to glance over her shoulder to see if anyone else had witnessed the affectionate scene. "Pam, I want you to meet the bride. This is Madison." Pam's eyes lit up. "Oh, you're the one. It's so great to meet you." Madison swore she saw a hint of pity in the woman's eyes. "You've got yourself a good man. Isn't that right, Chris?" With a mischievous grin, Pam looked at Chris as if they had their own little private joke going on. "If you could just tell me how you got Jackson to propose," Pam said, "I'd be forever grateful." She gave Chris a cunning smile. "Don't you tell her anything," Chris teased. Pam laughed, and then excused herself so she could run and get a few more things out of her car. As soon as she disappeared, Madison asked, "Are you and Pam dating?" "Five years now," he said proudly. "Why do you look so surprised?" Dazed, Madison looked around for Jen. "I made an assumption and I just thought that you and Jackson-" She stopped herself from saying too much. Boy, she'd been about as wrong as two plus two equaling three. She should have known Jackson wasn't gay--it was akin to calling a banana a vegetable. Heat rushed to her face. Jackson was straight, extremely handsome, and soon to be her husband. And she would be living with him. Alone. She grabbed the flute of champagne that had been set before her and guzzled the contents. "You didn't think--" Chris pointed a large serving spoon at her. "You did!" Madison grimaced. "When Jackson and I first met to discuss the arrangements, Jackson mentioned that you do all the cooking. I just sort of assumed. Oh, please don't tell him." "Don't tell him what?" Jackson's voice boomed from behind her, startling her. Wishing she could melt into the floor, she turned toward Jackson and gave him a sheepish grin. "She thought me and you--" Chris pointed a finger at himself and then at Jackson. "You and me were--" He was laughing too hard to get the words out. Exasperation lined Jackson's face, causing the yellowish bruising under his eye to look even darker. Despite the frustration scrawled across his injured face, he looked amazing in a well-fitted dark suit and tie. "What are you trying to say?" Jackson asked. "Spit it out." Chris kept chuckling as he uncorked a bottle of champagne, filled her crystal glass with more bubbly, and handed it to Madison.

She drained the glass in two swallows, and then slid the empty glass back for a refill. Anything to take the edge off. "She thought we were a couple, my friend," Chris finally managed, still laughing. With a set jaw and dark brooding eyes, Jackson took Madison's elbow and ushered her through the French doors to the backyard. He stopped in front of a gardenia bush. "What is it?" Madison asked. "What tricks are you up to now?" "I'm not trying to trick you, Jackson. I didn't really think you were--you know--" He raised a brow. "Gay?" She smiled innocently. Jackson looked to the sky. "I believe you. Because if you had believed I preferred the opposite sex, you wouldn't have enjoyed kissing me as much as you did." She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he was too quick. "And neither would I have enjoyed kissing you," he added. A twinge of excitement skittered up her spine. He had just admitted that he enjoyed kissing her. A part of her wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him good and soundly, but then she reminded herself that this arrangement was only temporary. ~~~ She was getting all sentimental on him. Jackson could see it in her eyes. Ever since waking up this morning, the idea of marrying her had been eating away at him. He was getting married, for God's sake. Their little charade no longer seemed so simple. For some reason he couldn't help but feel as if Madison had deliberately set out with the intention of turning his organized, calm life into a frenzied mess. A waiter dropped a tray, drawing his attention. For the first time since arriving, Jackson noticed all the chaos around him. "What are all these tables being set up for? And who are all these people?" "I was wondering that myself," Madison said. "I might have dressed differently had I known you and Jamie were inviting all of Los Angeles to our wedding." "And how exactly would you have dressed?" "Oh, I don't know," she said. "Maybe I would have worn a gown instead." "I thought you had a limited wardrobe." "I do, but--" "But you could've come up with something, huh? A few more diamonds maybe?" "Maybe," she said, confused by his heated tone. "But don't worry," she said, lifting her chin, "I certainly wouldn't have worn anything remotely white and dare risk the idea of making you believe I was fantasizing again." "Well, good. At least we've got that cleared up," he said as he noticed the faint freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her cream-colored suit and pearls made her look sophisticated, mature--closer to her age, instead of eighteen. Perhaps the L & L clients and guests Jamie invited wouldn't tease him about robbing the cradle after all. Who was he kidding? He peeled his eyes away from her shapely hips and legs, but then found his gaze zeroed in on her tantalizing mouth. "I'm going to find Jamie and see what's going on." "Fine with me." "I'd like to get this over with." "Me, too." If she was so damn ready then why was she staring at him with those big innocent eyes of hers, begging

him to kiss her again? Damn it. She was doing it again. Hypnotizing him. Making him crazy. Crazy enough to make him step close and cover her mouth with his. Since he saw her last, his every thought had been about kissing her. Just like this. Her lips felt warm and intoxicating, just as he remembered. She tasted like champagne. Seconds later her body melded into his. She brought her hands around his neck, and he felt her fingertips brush against the base of his neck, sending another wave of shivers right through him. She was going in for the kill. She was about as innocent as a fox luring in the hounds for a little exercise. The thought prompted him to pull away, releasing her hold around his neck in the process. "If we keep this up, I'm going to need a cold shower." She blushed. "We've got the whole night ahead of us," he whispered into her ear. "Oh," she said. He couldn't help but enjoy the worried look on her face. Perhaps the clever girl hadn't thought this whole marriage thing through after all. No. He could see the truth of the matter in those expressive eyes of hers. She had indeed believed he and his cook, Chris, were partners. No wonder she'd acted strangely excited at the cafe when they had met to discuss the particulars of their arrangement. She thought he was "safe." He shook his head. The poor girl had no idea she was about to marry the Big Bad Wolf. And he was hungry. ~~~ Madison gulped in a breath of air and watched Jackson walk back toward the pool area where he stopped to talk to Jamie's butler. The dark suit he wore accented his strong build and the sunlight made his hair look like black silk. Every time he kissed her she felt something bubbly and exciting within as if she would explode if he didn't stop. But he always stopped way too soon, and he always appeared to be angry afterward. He was a walking contradiction. And she wasn't any better. In the last five minutes, everything had changed. Living with Jackson wouldn't be anything like she'd imagined. Tonight she would be Mrs. Lang and Chris wouldn't be in residence as she'd first thought. Her pulse raced. She grabbed a drink from the waiter as he passed by, took a swig, and then nearly gagged as the liquid burned her throat. She was not a virgin, but neither was she experienced. The first and last time she'd had sex, she'd scared the man off for good. And she certainly didn't want to scare off Jackson. Or did she? A man who referred to children as critters? A man who kissed her when he was angry and then tried so hard to ignore her the rest of the time? And yet there was something about him that told her he was holding back. It was as if he had an invisible shield over his heart. What was he afraid of? Not only was he irresistibly sexy, he also had a gentle side to him. He was protective of her, too. When he looked into her eyes, he made her feel beautiful, as if she were the only woman in the world. Temporary or not, he would be her husband. Tonight was their wedding night. If he did ask her to join him in bed, what would she do? She guzzled the rest of the scotch. If Jackson invited her into his bed--that might just be an offer she would not be able to refuse. ~~~

Thirty minutes later, feeling more than tipsy, Madison moved inside the house, looking for Jackson. She hadn't seen him since he'd kissed her and walked off. Nor had she seen Jen. Everyone had deserted her. The first person she ran into was Mr. Razzano, of all people. "Mr. Razzano. I'm so glad you could make it," she said with exaggerated cheerfulness. Mr. Razzano gave her a grim look. "I hope you know what you're doing." "I've never been so certain of anything in my life. Jackson is the most wonderful, considerate man in the world. I've never been happier." "Your grandfather was adamant about you finding a decent man. Marriage is not something to be taken lightly." "And?" she asked, sensing he had more to say. "And I truly wonder what your grandfather would think about you marrying Jackson Lang." "He'd be happy for me," she said. George Harris was the best thing that ever happened to her. He used to worry about her and he always talked about the day when he would no longer be there to keep her safe. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy. "Is there anything else, Mr. Razzano?" "Just know I'll be watching you two very closely. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll take a look around outside." "I'll tell Jackson you're here," she said before he set off. "Jackson and I have said hello. He's greeting guests out front. I believe I last saw him chatting with your cousin, Heather. She's a lovely woman. You could learn a thing or two from her." A lump formed in Madison's throat. "If you'll excuse me, then." She cut a quick path around him and headed across the marble foyer, making her way to the front door. Why would Jackson be talking to Heather? Just as Mr. Razzano had said, Jackson and Heather were talking outside on the front lawn. Heather's long fingers curled intimately around Jackson's arm. Memories of Heather ruining every relationship she'd ever had came to mind. Heather's six year age difference never seemed to bother the boys she brought home. Heather was beautiful. She was also a flirt and she was good at it. Feeling more confident than she had in a very long time, Madison kept her eyes on Jackson as she headed their way. She was on a mission. Today she would marry a handsome, egotistical, hard-tounderstand man. What could be more satisfying than that? She exhaled. She was going to enjoy her wedding day if it killed her. Besides, nothing could be worse than all the chaos at the Starlight ball. With that thought in mind, she approached the two of them and said, "Heather, I see you've met my fiance." Jackson looked guilty--the way most men looked when Heather was around. Heather leaned toward Madison and kissed the air. She then stepped back and scanned Madison's attire from head to toe. "How very...sweet...you look." "She's never looked more beautiful," Jackson said, his compliment sending shivers down her spine. "Here's the judge now," Jackson said. Introductions were hastily made before Jackson ushered everyone through the house, back to the backyard. Heather lagged behind, quickly finding another male acquaintance to latch on to. Madison couldn't shake the uneasiness that lingered after seeing Jackson and Heather together. Did they know one another? She made a mental note to ask him later. Jackson seemed thoroughly annoyed. "Is anything wrong?" "I'm fine," he said, urging her onward. "You don't have to go through with this," she reminded him. "Oh, yes I do," he said. And then he stopped and looked into her eyes. "Unless you're having second thoughts about all of this and you want to call it quits right now." "I've come too far now," she said.

"It's never too late, Madison. Say the word and I'll call it off." Just like that. With a snap of the fingers, it could all be over and done with. She would go her way, he would go his, and they would probably never see one another again. In that moment she realized she might not be doing this just for the kids anymore. "So what's it going to be?" "I want to finish what we started." "Okay then," he said, and she wondered if that was relief she'd sensed before he set off again to catch up to the judge. Upon reaching the middle of the lawn area where a make-shift platform had been set up, Jackson cupped his hand around the judge's elbow and helped him up three wooden steps. The judge was an elderly man with a narrow, wrinkled face and frail frame. He looked as if he might keel over at any moment. Sensing Jackson's urgency after seeing him rush through the house, guests began to stream through the French doors to join them. A few people entered through the side gate, leading from the driveway. Evidently Jackson had spoken the truth when he'd said he wanted to get the wedding over with. The poor judge wasn't given a chance to catch his breath before Jackson gave him terse instructions to get things moving. Relieved to see Jen upstairs on the balcony, Madison waved her down. Within minutes, Jamie and Jackson's friend, Collin, were standing on both sides of her. She'd forgotten all about Collin, the man she'd originally asked to marry her. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. "How are you?" Collin asked, breathless from his quickness in coming to stand beside her. "I've never been better," she lied. "And you?" "Very well, thank you. You can stop frowning," he added. "Your secret is safe with me." She managed a smile, but then Jackson joined them, his brow puckered, and all cheerful pretenses disappeared. Not exactly the face of a man who was about to marry the woman he loved. With such poor acting abilities on Jackson's part, he'd give their charade away before the ceremony started. Unable to bear his sour mood another minute, she nudged his arm. "You're supposed to look happy about this, remember?" He feigned an unexceptional smile. She sighed at such a meager attempt. The judge opened his book and began reciting from it before the guests even knew the ceremony had begun. People scurried around for a seat. Red-faced and out of breath, Jen hurried to her place at Madison's side. "Hello, Collin," Jen said as she nudged her way between him and Madison. Madison looked at Jackson. "What's going on?" "We're behind schedule. The wedding was supposed to start ten minutes ago." The judge was talking, but Madison had to lean forward to hear what he was saying. The sun was unrelenting. Sweat dripped down the judge's face and off the tip of his thin nose as he hurried through his lines and then invited all present to speak now or forever hold their peace. Madison tried not to laugh as she waited. The heat and the booze were getting the best of her. Collin didn't flinch. Jackson remained silent, staring straight ahead, like a sailor looking out to sea. Just as her shoulders began to relax, a small voice screamed from somewhere behind her, "Stop the wedding!" Madison turned about, surprised to see Adam and Erin, two kids from CFC, pushing their way through the gathering crowd. Fourteen year-old Adam headed toward her, his pants low on his hips, showing off his boxers beneath.

Erin, a year older than Adam, appeared in denim overalls, complete with holes at the knees. Breathless, the two kids trudged up the grassy aisle toward her. Madison leaned over the platform. "What are you two doing here?" "We saw you in the paper," Erin said between breaths. "Yeah," Adam said. "Erin was lining the hamster cage at the center and there you were--you and that rich guy, right on the front page." At fourteen, the boy already had a giant chip on his shoulder. He was way too young and hardheaded to realize that people with money weren't the enemy. "My picture was on the front page?" Madison asked. Erin nodded, still trying to catch her breath. "The Entertainment section." Jackson closed his eyes for the briefest moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The guests whispered to one another. "Excuse us just for a moment," Madison told Jackson before stepping off the platform and drawing the kids into a huddle. "What's going on? Why are you two here? And who brought you here?" Erin pointed to a volunteer at CFC. The seventeen year old girl stood near the gate and waved. "We knew something was up--the way you've been acting all weird and stuff lately," Erin said, trying to get a peek at Jackson while she talked. "We saw you and that man in the paper and figured it out. Adam says you're marrying him because of us...because otherwise the center will be shut down. Is that true?" "I'm marrying him because I love him," she said, feeling badly about not being completely truthful. Erin frowned at Adam. "Thanks to someone I know--we got here at kind of a bad time, didn't we?" Madison hugged Erin tight. Jackson's stern expression, though, was not helping the situation. "You two don't need to worry about me." Adam gestured with his chin toward Jackson. "You really like him?" Jackson stepped off the platform and said into Madison's ear. "The judge is going to keel over in this heat if we don't get on with this." She turned back to the kids. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you both before. But I promise you everything is going to be fine. Go grab a bite to eat and we'll talk later." Madison apologized to the crowd as she made her way back to Jackson's side. Heather sat in the front row, smiling as if she were enjoying the show. At her side was Barbara, the same woman she and Jackson had run into at the coffee shop. On Heather's left sat Mr. Razzano. Lovely. Just lovely. Perspiration covered Madison's forehead when the time came to say her vows. The words got stuck in her throat, but she managed and so did Jackson. The worst of it was over. It was time to exchange rings. Damn. Madison grabbed hold of Jen's arm. "I forgot the ring. Do you have a ring?" Jen shook her head. Jackson pulled a diamond ring from his pocket and guided it onto her left ring finger. It was the biggest diamond she'd ever seen. "It's beautiful," Madison murmured. The judge lifted a bushy eyebrow. "Madison, do you have a ring?" Everyone looked at Jamie since he was the best man. He, too, came up empty-handed and before long the crowd was murmuring again. Between the heat and the scotch, Madison began to feel a little woozy. Collin tried to quiet the restless guests with a raised hand. When he turned back toward the judge, he noticed everyone in the wedding party admiring the ring on his finger. Collin touched his ring lovingly, and then with a tug he removed his college ring and plunked it into Madison's palm. "I like that ring," he whined. "Maybe Jackson and I should exchange places after all." "I think it's too late for that, but I appreciate the--" "He was kidding," Jackson muttered.

"Oh." Madison glanced at Collin, who shook his head in disagreement, making her feel a little better. "I now pronounce you man and wife," the judge said with relief, wiping his brow. When Jackson leaned forward to seal the deal with a kiss, Madison shut her eyes and pretended she'd just married a man who truly loved and cherished her just as the vows said he would. His lips brushed over hers, making her shiver despite the heat. She wanted more, much more, but he drew away. A collective sigh floated from the crowd. They were now officially man and wife. If not for the gorgeous woman storming up the aisle, Madison might have considered the affair a semisuccess despite Jackson's sour mood and the untimely interruptions. "Nobody move!" the woman demanded as she approached, the seductive movement of her hips hypnotizing the crowd. She looked as if she'd stepped straight out of Vogue. Chestnut eyes outlined with smoky shadows glared at Jackson. Her silky blond hair was swept up into a perfect chignon. Slim thighs revealed by the slit in her skirt seemed to go on forever, but it was definitely her shapely hips that held everyone's attention. As the woman marched up the stairs, she waved a rolled-up newspaper in front of Jackson's face. "How could you do this--you--you contemptible beast!" Madison winced. Jen's jaw dropped. "And you," the woman said, turning toward Madison. "Who the hell are you?" Jackson put a placating hand on the woman's shoulder. "Sheila, why don't we talk about this inside?" "You're marrying this--this-- For God's sake, Jackson, she looks like a child. Tell me this is some kind of cruel joke!" "Hey, wait a minute." Jen stepped forward as if she were a bodyguard instead of a maid of honor. "That's my friend you're talking about." The high-pitched shrill of a cell phone came from Jackson's pocket. He pushed a button and held the phone against his ear to listen. Sheila went after Madison with a pointed finger. "I've invested a lot of time and energy on this man, and I want to know what's going on." "This isn't a good time," Jackson told the caller. "I've got to go." Sheila tapped the gold point of an expensive Prada shoe against the wood planks. "How long have you known each other?" "If we could just move this into the house," Madison said, "maybe I could--" Sheila grabbed Madison's wrist so she could examine the ring on her finger. She then let go as if she'd touched hot coal. "If you can explain why, after years of hoping Jackson would ask me to be his wife, he would run up the aisle with you the minute my back is turned, I will leave." Jackson clicked his phone shut, prompting Sheila to turn her murderous glare on him. Jen and Madison exchanged worried looks. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you would stoop so low as to bring your cell phone to your wedding?" "We're finished here, right?" Jackson asked the judge. The old man nodded, thankful to be allowed off the stage. Mr. Razzano stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening intently, waiting to see what would happen next. "Madison," Jackson said calmly, as if the whole sordid scene wasn't transpiring in front of an audience, "this is Sheila Sinclair, a good friend of mine." Whack! Sheila's hand made contact with Jackson's jaw. Gasps erupted from the crowd. Satisfied, Sheila marched off, but not before pushing a confused Mr. Razzano out of her way. The quiet murmuring of the guests stopped when Sheila jerked her head back around in a move that would've made

Linda Blair from the Exorcist green with envy. "I hope you two are very happy!" she barked before disappearing through the side gate. Moments later, the squeal of tires could be heard. Jackson raised his hands to the crowd. "The show's over...just a little misunderstanding." After the crowd began chatting again, Collin chuckled. "A little misunderstanding--" Jackson glared at him. "Do you mind?" "Yes, I do. Somebody's got to get this party rolling." Collin spread his arms wide and shouted, "Here's to Mr. and Mrs. Lang. Let the festivities begin!" He clasped one arm around Madison's shoulder and the other around Jackson's. The sound of applause followed as Collin escorted the newlyweds down the stairs and through the crowd. Champagne was served and Jackson looked ready to commit murder when his friend promptly began a round of toasts. "To the best friend a guy could have," Collin said. "May these two newlyweds enjoy the rest of the day almost as much as they will relish tonight!" The guests laughed and clanked their glasses together before sipping champagne in their honor. Madison was glad to see that Adam and Erin had left. She held her glass halfheartedly in the air and then guzzled the contents. "To an affair that will be talked about for years!" someone cried out. More laughter. Somebody refilled her glass, and once again Madison finished the bubbly in one clean swallow. "To the prettiest bride in Los Angeles," Jamie shouted. Heat rose to her face as she looked around for the waiter. Jackson looked at her and said, "Come on. Let's get out of here." Before she could respond, somebody grabbed her hand and dragged her through the crowd, everyone adding their congratulations and making light of all that had gone wrong. Jackson followed close behind and once again they found themselves face to face with Mr. Razzano. He used his handkerchief to dab at the sweat trickling across his bald head. "Here's to true love, Mr. Razzano." Madison held up her empty glass, but he merely grunted. "I'm leaving now, but I thought it only fair to warn you two that under the circumstances I'll be paying you a visit very soon." "We'll be looking forward to it," Jackson told him, squeezing Madison's hand to keep her from saying something she might later regret. They watched Mr. Razzano storm off. Madison sighed. "Where do you two think you're going?" Jamie asked, stepping in front of Jackson before they could reach the house. "We're leaving," Jackson said. "Not before you cut the cake. We made a deal. Bingham and his wife are waiting by the cake, since it was too hot outside for them to wait for you there."

Chapter Seven Jackson was a few steps ahead of her when Madison grabbed Jen's arm and pulled her aside. "What am I going to do about Jackson tonight?" "What do you mean?" "You were right. He's not gay." "Well, duhh." "You don't understand," Madison said. "I'm married to Jackson. Tonight I'll be spending the night at his house and Chris won't be there. What am I going to do?" "Do what any red-blooded American girl would do. Jump his bones." Madison shook her head. "I'm serious." "So am I. What are you afraid of?" "I think I'm falling in love with him." "Perfect. He's your husband now. Go for it! Just don't profess any words of love. It's much too soon for that." "Oh, God, I don't think I can seduce him. I haven't slept with a man in years." "Having sex is similar to riding a bike. It'll all come back to you. Now come on," Jen urged. "Let's go cut that cake." ~~~ As he stood near the cake, Jackson tipped his head back to get the kinks out of his neck. He had a pile of work waiting for him at the office and, wedding or not, he had every intention of getting to it before the end of the day. Madison looked downright disheveled and strikingly beautiful all at the same time. Strands of dark hair framed her small oval face. Oddly, though, her eyes sparkled with mischief as if she suddenly had a secret. She had a smile for each and every person in attendance as she came forward. She looked much too happy, considering everything that had happened. "At least the bride is having a good time," Jamie chided. Collin held up a glass of champagne, ready to make a toast until Jackson shot him a lethal glare, quickly dousing Collin's attempt at starting another round of toasts. "Cut the cake," he growled under his breath. "Man, you're a grouch." "Cut the--" "That's not how it works. The bride and the groom cut the cake together and then lovingly feed each other a bite. It's a tradition that goes back to the medieval days." "Where's the knife?" Jackson asked. Jamie laughed. After Jen deposited Madison at Jackson's side, he found himself worrying about her, wondering if all the chaos was getting to her. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine. How about you?" "I'll feel better once we cut this cake and get out of here. The crowd looks ravenous and I'm afraid they'll start a riot if we don't serve them a piece soon." Madison laughed, and then looked up at him with something akin to admiration and yearning. He couldn't for the life of him remember anyone ever looking at him that way before. Swallowing the knot in his throat, he picked up the knife, surprised by the soft feel of Madison's hand

as she placed it over his. Together they cut out a small piece of spongy, white cake. A few guests applauded. Cameras flashed. Jackson even found himself smiling over such an idiotic tradition. As instructed, he took the offered bite from his new bride, all the while peering into her eyes. She had the eyes of an angel and once again he found himself mesmerized. It was his turn to feed Madison a bite of cake. Strange, he thought, how he felt as if they were the only two people in the room, as he guided the cake into his wife's mouth. His hand brushed against her soft lips and he sucked in a breath when her tongue slid across his finger. As if she hadn't just been licking him, she wiped his hand with a napkin, all the while giving him an alluring smile. Then she pulled him toward the dance floor. "One dance before we leave," she said. "I think we should head home." She stopped and gave him a ridiculous pout, her body swaying to the left as she said, "One dance before we go." He stepped close and took hold of her waist. "What's going on?" "The Binghams are watching us." She waved at Mr. and Mrs. Bingham. She peeled off her jacket and handed it to Jen, revealing a sleeveless silk blouse and silky smooth skin. He followed her to the middle of the dance floor. "Always and Forever" by Heatwave began to play. The top of her head brushed against his chin. He had no choice but to breathe in the fragrant scent of rosewater and fresh soap. Her hair was as soft as her skin. "I wonder who picked this song." "I did," she said. "I love this song. When I was a little girl, I always dreamed of playing it at my wedding." "Is that so?" She nodded. "I used to play this song on the piano. Did you ever play an instrument?" "Never had time to learn. My brother and I were working at age twelve." "Paper route?" "Mostly babysitting." She laughed. "You find that amusing?" "I do. Who changed the diapers, you or Jamie?" "Me. Jamie entertained the older kids while I did the feeding and the changing of the diapers." "That explains why you refer to children as critters." "Maybe you're right," he said with a chuckle. Jackson listened to her ramble on, knowing that she was uncomfortable with silence. He liked the way her nose crinkled and her eyes lit up when she talked. Overall, she was quite animated when she spoke. Her eyes appeared turquoise under the dim lights. "Adam and Erin don't think you dezzerve me," she said, her words slurred. "They could very well be right about that," he said, inwardly smiling when he realized she was beyond tipsy. She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his quick agreement. One of the caterers waved at her from the sidelines. "Is there anybody in the world you don't want to be friends with?" he asked. "No," she said, her body swaying to the music, one of her fingers twirling the hair at the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. The woman was driving him wild with one finger. "I think your friend, Adam, wanted to rip me to shreds today." Madison laughed. "Adam wouldn't hurt a flea." "You could've fooled me."

"I'm the only mother figure he's ever known. He's protective, that's all." She was much too young to be Adam's mother, but she definitely had a maternal instinct about her that was hard to ignore. Since their meeting with Mr. Razzano, Jackson had begun to see that there was definitely more to Madison than what Heather had told him. The stories Madison had told in the executor's office had come straight from the heart. Not lies exactly--more like dreams. Too often over the past few days, Jackson found himself wondering about her. What did she think about when she was alone? What did she want out of life? What made her happy? One thing was clear. She was as needy as the kids she so often spoke of. Sure, she wanted people to think she was an independent woman, but what she really yearned for was someone to love, someone to smother her with affection. And as much as he enjoyed being around her, the last thing he wanted--was to be that person. He wasn't ready to be tied down to a lifetime of responsibility. He felt her head rest against his chest. They were moving too slow to be considered dancing. He could feel her heart beating against his. Her hair smelled like rose petals. He wasn't coldhearted, he told himself, as he felt her cheek rub softly against his chest. He just didn't have time for a relationship. He had work to do. He had a business to run. His body tensed, and he pulled his lips from her hair, wondering what had moved him to put them there in the first place. He didn't need anyone else relying on him. He'd taken care of his mother until she passed away. He then raised Jamie on his own. Until Walter came into their lives, the responsibility had been overwhelming. And now he thrived on independence and freedom. He liked knowing he could take off tomorrow if he wanted to, or the next day, or the next. He could work all hours of the night without anyone at home to worry about. He wasn't ever going to give that up. Not for anybody. His body rocked gently with hers, his every movement contrasting greatly with his inner turmoil. He enjoyed holding her close and feeling her body against his. She fit him like a handmade sweater. And that, he decided, was the last straw. Without waiting for the song to end, he unlocked her arms from around his neck and guided her across the room and through the French doors. Taking long strides, he ushered her across the lawn, stopping when he realized she was limping. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." He opened the gate and ushered her through. "Ooh--ow, ow." "What now?" "I lost my shoe." "How far back?" "The dance floor, I think." "Why didn't you say something?" "I didn't want you yelling at me again." He huffed. "And when have I ever yelled at you before?" "You're yelling at me right now." Towering over her, he leaned over, picked her up, and carried her to the car. Twenty minutes later Jackson pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition. Her hand was on his leg. She looked over at him and smiled, her eyes slightly downcast. Temporary or not, she was his wife now, which made him question whether he'd been too hard on her earlier. "I refuse to feel guilty about today," he told her. "I'm not asking you to feel guilty." "I wasn't the one who approached you and asked you to marry me. This is your doing."

"I know." He climbed out of the car and came around to open the passenger door. She didn't move. Reluctantly, he reached inside and lifted her into his arms again. "Did you leave your shoe on purpose?" "Why would I do that?" "So I would have to carry you again." As he made his way up the wide expanse of wide stairs leading to his house, he realized he'd carried packages heavier than his new bride. When he got to the door, he adjusted her in a way so that her feet wouldn't touch the cold ground while he struggled to find his keys. She leaned contentedly against his chest. "You smell nice." Ignoring her, he dug deeper into his pants pocket for his keys. She was up to something. No doubt about it. By the time he located his keys, she was twirling her fingers around the buttons of his shirt. "If you keep that up," he said, "all bets are off." "We didn't make any bets." "You know what I mean." "I don't think I do." Her fingers left his buttons and instead trailed unhurriedly over his chest up to his neck. Before she could remove his tie, he managed to get the door unlocked. He readjusted her once more, this time heaving her over his shoulder. She playfully protested all the way across the entryway and up a long flight of carpeted stairs. He opened the first door to the left and placed her gently on the four-posted bed in the middle of the room. "For the next three months," he said, "this is your room." He turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning." "You're not going to join me?" "Let's get one thing straight." She batted her eyelashes and he couldn't help but smile. "We're not going to sleep together," he said. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow night." "You're not attracted to me?" "I didn't say that." He shouldn't have said that, he realized as he watched her come to her knees and undo the top three buttons of her blouse. "What are you doing?" "I'm hot. I mean, it's hot in here." She was right the first time. "Oooh, these are killing me." She slid off of the bed, and then unzipped her skirt and let it fall slowly to the floor. Jackson was finding it difficult to breathe. He should leave, but he couldn't embarrass her by leaving in the middle of her striptease. She slid her pantyhose off next. When she got them half way over smooth pale thighs, his throat went dry. Her legs looked much too long and shapely for a woman of no more than five foot four. He held in a breath as he watched her slowly peel off her blouse and move toward him. Her pink lacey bra and matching panties didn't leave much to the imagination. Before she reached him, she tripped on the Berber carpet, but quickly covered the blunder by thrusting her hips forward and sliding her tongue over her top lip. He smiled. He couldn't help himself. "What are you doing?" She stopped in mid-step. "Nothing. Why?" "Are you trying to seduce me?" "Maybe."

"Either you are or you're not." "It's not working?" "Why are you doing this?" he asked. She looked crushed. "Every time you kiss me, I feel things inside of me--tingly, explosive, wonderful things that I've never felt before. We're married now. You said yourself that we had the entire night ahead of us." He raked a hand through his hair. "I was trying to scare you, hoping to teach you a lesson." "Why?" "Because you don't know me, Madison, and yet you married me. Any woman foolish enough to marry a complete stranger needs to be taught a lesson." "I do know you." She took another step forward and laid a hand on his chest. "I know you would fight to protect me from men like Bryce Archer and Mr. Razzano. And your beautiful, tender kisses aren't the only reason I know you're caring and gentle. You love your brother and you still mourn the man who raised you." "Who told you that?" "Jamie." He took her hand from his chest and put it to her side. "Trust me. You don't know me. And it's better if we keep it that way. We may be married now, but I'm not marriage material. We made a deal and if I remember correctly you wrote a list of rules, the first of which had something to do with keeping our clothes on at all times." He let his gaze roam over her. "I'd appreciate it if you followed them." He turned to leave. "So you don't feel anything at all?" He turned back to face her, his gaze lingering on her rosy cheeks and soft lips as he wondered if he'd ever tire of looking at her. She had absolutely no idea how beautiful she was. "I'm sorry," he lied. "I don't feel anything." And he was sorry. Sorrier than she'd ever know. Without giving himself time to ponder on it further, he turned and walked from the room, taking his painful desire, his frustrations, and an unfamiliar pang in his chest with him. He had to stay away from her. That was all there was to it. His inability to think and his complete lack of control over his own body when she so much as touched him scared the hell out of him. He needed to stay focused, stay in control. He was a planner--meticulous with detail. And this particular scenario was not part of the plan. Without looking back, he headed for the stairs, agitated by his newfound weakness when it came to his wife. His wife. The thought made his insides twist.

Chapter Eight After tossing and turning for most of the night, Madison finally gave up trying to get any sleep. She pushed off the covers and slid her legs over the side of the bed. She gazed down at the ring on her finger and couldn't help but feel sort of silly for coming on to Jackson only to be turned down flat. He'd sobered her right up. She wanted nothing more than to call a cab and go home. It was Sunday, and she hoped he'd gone to the office for the day. The wedding had been a disaster, not to mention her attempt at seducing her husband. How was she ever going to face him again? Her gaze fell to her suitcase by the closet door, making her wonder when he'd managed to slip it into the room without disturbing her. Head throbbing, she forced herself to her feet. Her room, she noticed, was tastefully decorated in light creams and lavender. After grabbing her nightshirt, slippers and toiletries from her case, she went into the bathroom and brushed her hair and then her teeth. She splashed cold water on her face, but that hardly helped the puffiness under her eyes. She needed Tylenol. She opened the door and was instantly greeted by high ceilings and wide open spaces. The house was enormous. Long, open hallways lined with custom-made iron railings made for a sweeping view of the grand entrance below. Burgundy draperies and a plush carpet contrasted nicely with cream-colored walls. Rich colorful paintings adorned the walls, giving the house warmth, although a pervasive stillness did make her wonder how one man could live all alone in such a large house. She held onto the decorative iron rail as she made her way downstairs. The kitchen was equally large and nicely decorated with never-ending granite counters and sprawling slate floors. Massive windows provided plenty of natural light as she searched through a few cupboards and finally the pantry. It didn't take her long to find a bottle of Tylenol. She stepped out of the pantry and opened the lid. "Looking for something?" Startled, she jumped and the bottle of pills flew from her hand, the plastic bottle hitting Jackson square on the chin. Pills scattered and rolled across the floor; a few tablets circled around Jackson's bare feet. "You're not working today?" He shook his head. "Should I be?" "Yes. No. I mean, you should do whatever you want." After she picked up most of the pills, her gaze traveled from his feet to strongly muscled calves covered with dark hair, and then upward to the hem of his terrycloth robe. They both bent over to retrieve the pills at the same time, bumping their heads in the process. "Ow!" Madison held one hand to the top of her head as she straightened. He gathered the pills and the bottle and handed it to her. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine." She noticed him looking at her slippers. "A gift from Jen," she confessed. "Nice." She smiled, determined to act natural, show him she could handle this living arrangement without turning into a complete idiot every time he said two words to her. Although, it wasn't easy considering he looked ruggedly sexy. "I want to apologize for last night," she told him as she slid the pills into the bottle. "I don't know what got into me." "No need," he said, his voice terse. "Was there something else?" She shuddered at seeing her reflection on the aluminum paneling of the refrigerator behind him. Seeing

her tangled hair and cartoon slippers, knowing she had tried to seduce him last night, made her stomach roil. "I was hoping you could give me a ride to my house this morning so I could get my car. I think I'll go to the center today. If that's a problem, though, I could give Jen a call." He walked past her, making his way to the other side of the kitchen where he retrieved a set of keys from a desk in the corner. "Here. Feel free to drive the Lexus while you're living here." "Are you sure?" "Not at all." He gestured toward the kitchen door that led to the garage. "There's a garage door opener inside the glove box." "This is very generous of you, especially since loaning me your car was not part of our deal. I plan to get the rest of my belongings after work and then it should be smooth sailing from here on out. The worst is over. Not that marrying you was 'the worst,' I just meant--" "It's okay." He held up a hand. "You don't have to explain. Jamie invited us to his place for dinner tonight. Does seven o'clock work for you?" She nodded. They both turned toward the sound of somebody entering the house. "Well, hello," Chris said as he swept into the kitchen and set a grocery bag on the counter. His girlfriend, Pam, followed close behind with another bag filled with fresh produce. "You both look awful," Pam said in a cheerful voice. "Nice slippers," she told Madison before leaning toward Chris. "I thought you said they weren't sleeping together." Chris gave Jackson an apologetic shrug of his broad shoulders before he turned to Pam and said, "It's none of our business." Madison reached for the Tylenol. "We didn't--" "Chris is right," Jackson interrupted. "It's nobody's business." "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Pam scoffed, looking at Jackson. Madison located a glass, filled it with water, and swallowed both Tylenol in one gulp. Pam watched her. "Overdid it a little, huh?" "You could say that," Madison agreed. Pam looked at Jackson. "Your face still looks awful. You've got to stop fighting with other men. It's so barbaric." She put a hand to her hip. "If you two aren't even 'an item' I really don't understand why you would have cared who she danced with to begin with." Madison busied herself with returning the Tylenol to the pantry. She tried to escape unnoticed, but Chris stopped her. "Why don't you eat something before you go? I'll make you and Jackson one of my famous Western omelets." "I would love to, but I need to get going." She looked at Jackson, but he didn't try to stop her. Pam came to her side, lifted her hand and admired her ring. "That is some rock. Did you see her ring, Chris?" "Yes, I did," Chris answered happily. "Jackson did a great job picking it out." "Jamie picked it out," Jackson said. Pam rolled her eyes. "You've married a winner, haven't you? Did he get up on the wrong side of the bed again?" Madison shrugged. "He always gets up on the wrong side of the bed," Chris chimed in. "You know that." "Are you two here to make breakfast," Jackson wanted to know, "or are you here to make my life more miserable?" "I'll see you all later," Madison said before heading upstairs. ~~~

"Do you have to be so tough on her?" Chris asked. Jackson pushed his plate away. "Tough on her? Look at my face. And this ring," he added, holding up his hand. "I don't wear jewelry." "You don't do a lot of things. And get your own ring. Collin wants his ring back. Yesterday Madison told me she married you because of some kids at CFC. If this is so difficult for you, why don't you just write her a check and send her on her way?" "It's more complicated than that," Jackson said, but he wasn't about to explain. Jamie already knew Heather's part in all of this. Nobody else needed to know the details. Chris thought Jackson had agreed to marry Madison because of the Bingham contract. He knew nothing of Heather's involvement in all of this. Hell, Jackson hadn't expected everyone to attach themselves to Madison so quickly. Married less than twenty-four hours and she already had Chris rooting for her. If Chris ever found out that Jackson didn't intend to stay married long enough for her to collect her inheritance, he and Pam probably wouldn't bother talking to him at all. "Is making this woman's life hell really worth signing a contract with Bingham?" Chris asked. Jackson's jaw twitched. "I hardly think it's fair to compare Jackson's sour mood with hell," Pam said as she whisked the eggs. Jackson tipped his head at Pam in a gesture of thanks and then said to Chris, "You seem to be forgetting that Madison asked me to marry her. She's the one who made the offer and now she's going to have to live with her decision." "And so are you," Chris added cheerfully. "So are you." ~~~ Two hours later, Madison made her way across the marble foyer, each step echoing off the floor as she went. Fifteen minutes ago she'd heard Pam and Chris leave. A long hot shower had helped tremendously. Her headache was gone and she felt refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Through a partially open door, she saw Jackson sitting behind a large mahogany desk. Her heels sank into the plush carpet when she stepped into his office. "I'm heading off to visit the center," she said, shaking her keys. "I guess I'll see you later." He looked up and despite the bruised shadow still lining the bottom of his eye, his reading glasses made him look distinguished. "Fine," he said in a clipped tone. "See you tonight." Once again, images of her stripping last night, only to have Jackson turn her down, flashed through her mind. She couldn't stand the idea of him thinking she did things like that on a regular basis. Neither could she stand the thought of living with someone she couldn't talk to without feeling tongue-tied. "So, this is where you work?" He leaned back in his chair. "On the weekends mostly." "What do you do exactly?" "I look for properties in undeveloped areas. If I think the property has potential, I buy it. After that, I spend most of my time managing labor, establishing time estimates, and hiring appropriate operators and construction crews." An awkward bit of silence stretched between them. "Does that answer your question?" "Yes, it does." "Great. I'll see you later then." He leaned forward and that quickly seemed to be focused on his work. She cleared her throat, prompting him to look at her again. "Why do I get the feeling you have something on your mind?" She adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. "I need to get something off my chest. I know I came on

strong last night, and I do regret it, but still, I don't see any reason to have this, you know, tension between us. I think we should be friends." He tapped his pen to his chin. "You want to be friends?" She nodded. She knew she should probably quit while she was ahead, or behind, depending on whom she asked, especially since Chris had mentioned that Jackson enjoyed his privacy, but she just couldn't bring herself to leave when things were so strained between them. "I think we should be able to talk about things, anything, like the fact that we're married now," she said as if she were commenting on the weather. "I don't feel married, do you?" "We're not supposed to feel married," he said flatly. "I realize that," she said a bit defensively. "I just thought that if we're going to be living together we should be able to talk to one another without feeling awkward or uncomfortable." Jackson closed the manila file in front of him. For a moment, they just stared at each other. How had she managed once again to make him feel exposed? It was as if she were purposely trying to dig up holes. Holes he'd filled long ago. Deep dark holes he didn't want disturbed. He had decided last night that he needed to put distance between them, not only because he was attracted to her, but because she was making him feel things he didn't want to feel. Hell, he couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes without feeling as if he were being sucked right into some sort of black hole; only this place didn't feel like a hypothetical invisible region in space. It felt much too real. She must have grown tired of waiting for a response because she looked glum as she turned to leave. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come forth. He didn't know whether to stop her or not. He'd tried to convince himself that Heather was right and all Madison was after was money. But why then did he still have doubts? Her small house, her simple clothes, the warmth she brought into a room--none of it fit Heather's description. But still, here she was, married to him and living in his house. What was she really after? A knot formed in his gut as he realized she'd managed to get under his skin once again. But what irked him even more than that was what he saw when he looked into those big eyes of hers: white picket fences, baby booties, and forever. She wanted forever. Friends, my foot. He needed to put a stop to it, right now. "Madison," he called over the clacking of footsteps as she crossed the foyer. Tapping the pads of his thumbs together, he waited for her to return. And she did return, but this time she kept her distance, standing just inside the door. "I get the feeling," he began, "that this marriage business is harder for you than you imagined. I don't know if you envisioned a nice wedding with a loving groom to keep you company afterward, but you sure pretended to know what you were getting yourself into when you asked me to marry you." "Your memory doesn't serve you very well, Jackson. If you recall, I didn't ask you. I asked your friend." He remembered, all right. He kept his gaze level with hers, refused to let his gaze linger overly long on her lips or to drop down to the smooth pale skin of her throat. She was angry. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen her angry before this moment. He removed his reading glasses. "There are some things I think you should know about me," he stated matter-of-factly. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin as if to prepare herself for what was coming. "I've had my share of taking care of people," he told her. "I practically raised my brother myself. I took care of my mother, too." Heather popped into his mind, since she was his responsibility now, but he decided to leave her out of this. "Now I find myself married to a woman I hardly know." He paused for a moment, pondering his next words. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to take care of anyone else."

Judging by the way her body tensed, she was struggling to remain composed. He didn't like the wrenching ache in his gut, the idea of hurting her, or the harshness in his voice when he spoke, but his independence was hanging by a thread, and he wasn't going to give it up. Not for anybody. "I like my freedom, Madison. And my privacy. We're married now--just like you wanted. It's done. I would appreciate it if we could keep a reasonable distance between us. If I remember correctly, that was the plan." She was doing that thing with her mouth again, her teeth sinking into her full bottom lip. It wasn't going to work. Not this time. He refused to let her make him feel like the bad guy. If only she'd curse at him, call him names, anything to make this easier. But for the first time since he'd met her, she didn't say a word. "As you can see," he added, "this is a big house. Make yourself at home while you're here. I left keys to the house on the table by the door. If you have any problems, or you need anything at all, Chris is around most mornings and two or three evenings as well." "Is that all?" she asked after a quiet moment passed, her voice steady. He nodded, hating the way she was looking at him, as if she were trying not to care. But she cared, all right. It wasn't his ego telling him that. It was all her. The way she looked at him. The way she stood. She cared about everything--about the judge standing in the heat yesterday, about those kids who showed up in time to interrupt the wedding, and now she cared about him, too. He didn't want her to care about him. But she did. He saw it in her eyes this morning and he'd seen it yesterday and the day before that. He'd bet his last dollar that she couldn't help it--didn't purposely set out to worry about everybody she met. She just did. "Go on to Jamie's tonight without me," she said, breaking the silence between them. "I spoke with Jen and she offered to pick me up and take me to get my car. I won't need to borrow anything of yours after all. I left they keys to your Lexus in the kitchen." She was looking straight at him, chin raised, eyes defiant. "No need to worry about your privacy either," she went on. "I made a mistake. I thought we could be friends, but I can see now that I was terribly mistaken." She started to walk away, but then turned about and said, "Oh, and one more thing. I can take care of myself, so don't you go worrying yourself sick about that." With that said, she turned and headed across the foyer and out the door. The door shut firmly behind her, leaving a feeling of finality in her wake. Jackson sat up a little taller and smiled. He'd never met anyone like her. If he didn't always think before reacting, he might have gone after her, taken her in his arms, and kissed her soundly, so soundly she'd know everything he'd just told her contradicted every sensation he was feeling inside.

Chapter Nine It was nine p.m. The night had gone from balmy to cool by the time Madison pulled into Jackson's driveway and parked her 1966 VW. The engine rattled and sputtered even after she turned off the ignition. Jackson's car wasn't in the driveway. Only a few lights were on inside the house. Good. The last thing she wanted to do was run into him. She was exhausted after a long day counseling kids at CFC before running home to gather more of her things. Grabbing her bags from the back seat, she climbed out of the car and headed toward the house. She knew Jackson wouldn't notice or care if she ever returned, but after seeing some of the kids tonight, she knew she was doing the right thing. Although she would have loved to cozy up on her recliner in her own house and sleep in her own bed, Mr. Razzano had said he might pay her and Jackson a visit. She couldn't blow the deal after all she'd gone through. Now she'd have to deal with the consequences. At least she didn't have to worry about Jackson making a move on her. He didn't want anything to do with her. He'd made it perfectly clear he wanted her to stay as far away from him as possible. Fine. No problemo. Once inside, she set her purse and bags by the staircase and then decided to grab a quick snack from the kitchen. She'd hardly eaten all day and her stomach grumbled. The idea of eating food she hadn't paid for didn't sit well with her, but she was hungry and she wasn't going to starve just because she happened to be married to an ogre. She would just have to remember to replace anything she ate. She opened the refrigerator and shuffled things around. "Anything good in there?" Madison jumped. The plastic jar of mayonnaise she'd latched onto fell to the floor and then bounced all over the place before it finally cracked open. White globs splattered against the dark cherry cupboards. "Shit." Jackson ducked for cover behind one of the stools, but even after the jar stopped bouncing around, he didn't look the least bit convinced that he was out of danger. She might have cried if he hadn't picked that moment to wave a kitchen towel in surrender. Instead she smiled when Jackson stood, revealing a big, jiggling blotch of mayonnaise on his pants. "So," Jackson said, stepping around the mess. "You find this amusing?" A big blob of mayonnaise dripped off the side of her head. "Very," she said. His gaze focused on the right side of her head. She raised a hand, wrinkling her nose when the greasy slime oozed through her fingers. Jackson found a towel and used it to wipe mayonnaise from her hair. "I can do that," she said, reaching for the towel in his hand. "Hold still. I've got it." As he wiped each strand of hair, she noticed he wore jeans and a navy long-sleeved polo. She caught a whiff of cologne. She could feel his warm breath on the top of her head. "There," he said with one last swipe. She took a step back. "Thanks." She found another clean towel in a top drawer and gestured toward his sleeve. "You missed a spot." He took the towel and wiped at his sleeve. "How did your day go?"

Her eyes narrowed with distrust. "Not too good. Erin's mother checked into rehab for the third time today, which means Erin must take on the role of mother to her two younger siblings. Bobby was caught smoking pot and he was put in juvenile hall and something's going on with Adam, but he won't talk." "That's too bad." "Yes, it is." Before she realized where his thoughts were headed, he cradled her face in his palms and brought his lips to hers. She closed her eyes, despising herself for craving the feel of having his mouth against hers...possessive, warm. His tongue grazed hers, briefly, sending tingles coursing through her body. He tasted like wintergreen. Her heart pounded against her chest, her toes curled, and every part of her tingled. But then a sigh escaped her lips and unclouded her senses. This was a pity kiss, a kiss laden with guilt for all the things he'd said this morning. The realization hit her with a jolt. She pushed away from him. Kissing Jackson was one big lie, because he wasn't kissing her for the same reason she was kissing him. "You didn't need to do that," she said. "Oh, yes I did." He took one step forward every time she took one step back. "I don't need your charity kisses," she told him. "You made it perfectly clear this morning that you didn't want me around. I may have been desperate to find a husband, but my heart," she said, laying a palm on her chest, "is not desperate." He raised a brow. "I'm not the kiss-starved woman you think I am." "The thought never crossed my mind." "Good." She straightened her shoulders, went to the sink, so flustered she couldn't remember which drawer held the clean towels. She would have headed for her room long ago if mayonnaise wasn't covering half the kitchen. She found a cloth and went to the sink to rinse it with cold water. Suddenly, his hands were resting on her shoulders. She didn't dare move. She stared out the window and focused on the stars, waiting to hear what he had to say. She wanted to fall back in his embrace, ask him to hold her in his arms all night long. But she wouldn't do that. She'd grown tired of asking, wanting, begging to be loved. She deserved better. "I'll clean this up," he said in a voice that would be easy to mistake for concern. "Why don't you get some rest?" She nodded, but didn't dare look back as she made her way to her room. She couldn't be around him. Not right now. He was dangerous--in an explosive, sexy, confusing sort of way. Definitely hazardous to her health. One minute he was telling her to stay far away from him and in the next he was kissing her, filling her with false hope. She shut the door to the guestroom and allowed herself to just breathe. "I don't need him," she said to her reflection in the full-length mirror. She had Jen. And she had her cat, Elvis. Well, she'd had Elvis until he'd decided to run away a few weeks ago. She couldn't get a man, let alone a tomcat, to stick around long enough to see how wonderful she could truly be. She was fun, and gosh darn it, she'd been voted most likable in fourth grade. With a sigh, she removed a tissue from the box on the nightstand, then plunked down on the edge of the bed. She blew her nose. She wasn't going to feel sorry for herself. Been there, done that. She remembered the bags she'd brought from home. They were downstairs where they would have to remain. She wasn't going to risk running into Jackson again. She fell back onto the pillows, determined not to shed another tear. She could handle Jackson's moody ways, she realized. But she sure couldn't handle

those kisses. ~~~ It was close to midnight as Jackson drove through the heavily sculpted iron gates and parked his car behind Madison's VW. Two days had passed since the mayonnaise incident. He hadn't seen Madison since. She was obviously avoiding him. He hardly blamed her after the way he'd treated her. The car she drove, he noticed, had seen better days. The thought of his wife driving a beat-up car didn't sit well with him. He'd seen too many small cars mangled in accidents. Madison needed something sturdy and solid, something safe. He made a mental note to talk to her about it. The moonlight threw shadows over the grass as he walked across the driveway, reminding him that the place looked more like a country club than a home. A dozen royal palms stood straight and tall around the perimeter. He'd worked late. The paperwork kept piling up at the office, but he figured staying late each night would make things easier for both of them. Although staying away hadn't helped him keep his mind off of her; she was his wife now and he couldn't seem to get his thoughts wrapped around anything else. Hell, he couldn't look at her without wanting her, and the other night had only made things worse. He hadn't meant to lead her on, hadn't meant to kiss her at all. It just happened. And it was a damn good thing she stopped him when she did. One minute he was telling her to stay away and the next he was wrapping her in his arms and kissing her. The fact that he couldn't keep away from her, boggled the mind. He was a mess. He wasn't keen on the idea that any woman, especially a quiet, timid woman such as his wife, could so easily get under his skin. But she had, and she was making him crazy. With his jacket thrown over his shoulder, hooked precariously on one finger, he made his way quietly through the front entrance and headed upstairs toward his bedroom, slowing his pace as he passed Madison's room. Next thing he knew, he was leaning close to her door and listening--like a damn idiot, wondering if she was even home. What if an intruder had come in and hurt her? He tunneled his fingers through his hair. She was probably asleep. And yet he wouldn't be able to sleep until he knew for sure that she was safe and sound. The damn woman had turned him into a nosy Peeping Tom. And yet what choice did he have but to take a look? "She isn't your concern," his sensible self said. Deciding to listen to his sensible self, he shrugged and started off for his room again. "She's your wife--your responsibility," his other self said into his ear. He stopped and looked back at her door, hoping she would peek her head out and say goodnight. Her car was in the driveway, which told him she had to be home. He should have been able to hear her breathing, though...something. A noise at the front door caught his attention. He looked over the railing to the foyer. There she was-sneaking in after a late night--as if she were a damnable teenager. He watched her shut the front door, oh, so quietly. She locked the door and then tiptoed up the stairs. "What are you doing?" he asked her. Her head snapped up, eyes wide and guilty as hell. He figured it was a good thing she wasn't carrying a bag or a crystal vase because she would have thrown it and they would have spent the next hour cleaning up the mess. She was wearing her thick-rimmed glasses again. He hadn't seen her wear glasses since their meeting in the coffee shop. She pulled her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

By the time she reached the landing, her surprise had turned to annoyance. "What do you mean, what am I doing? How about 'hello, how are you?' or 'How was your day?'" He went to stand before the door to her bedroom. "I didn't think of that," he said, noting how exhausted she looked, as if she'd worked all day and then ran a marathon after that. "Why are you home so late?" She eyed him skeptically. "Do I have a curfew?" "Of course not. It's past midnight, though, and I happen to think that's a little late for my wife to be traipsing in the front door." He wasn't sure who was more surprised by the comment--her or him. "I'm not your wife, remember?" "Technically you are. People I know might see you frequenting those bars you're so fond of. I don't like it." She screwed her face up. "Frequenting bars? Oh, I see." She slid past him, pushing her door wide as she swept into her bedroom to deposit her purse and a few other items onto the bed. Flipping on the lights, she turned back to him. "You think because we met in a bar that that's where I spend my free time?" "Well, isn't it?" She was about to answer, but began to laugh instead. "Is everything I say somehow amusing to you?" "Yes," she stated matter-of-factly. "I've never been married before, but somehow you're making me feel very married right now." "Ridiculous." But he knew she was right. He felt a sudden urge to gather her into his arms, take her to his bedroom, and make her his wife in more ways than one. First, he would pull the pins from her hair and then he would run his fingers through silky strands as he asked her about her day. After a while, he would nuzzle her soft neck-"I'm tired, Jackson. But if you really want to know why I'm so late, it's because my car wouldn't start this morning so Jen gave me a ride. An hour after I got to work, Erin called to tell me that Adam had been in an accident. You remember Adam, don't you? The fourteen-year-old boy who I took fishing? The young boy who showed up at the wedding?" "How could I forget? What happened?" "He was hit by a car while crossing the street." "Is he all right?" "The doctor said he'll be fine, but he's lucky to be alive." She managed a tight smile. "Adam doesn't like being fussed over. It seems he's better at dodging sympathy then oncoming traffic. They're keeping him overnight for observation." Her concern was palpable. A tremendous urge to comfort her swept over him. "That's not all," she went on. "When I got back to work, I had a pink slip waiting for me." She gestured a hand toward the pile of newspapers on the bed behind her. "I spent the rest of the day looking for another job. I have two interviews first thing in the morning, which means I really should get some sleep." His first impulse was to tell her she didn't need to work. She could take some time off, relax. But he knew that would be leading her on again, so he kept quiet. "How long have you been at your job?" "Five years," she said as she put away her belongings. "My being late today was the last straw. It was for the best. I'll find a better job." "Sorry you had a rough day. Anything I can do?" "No." She started to shut the door. "Oh, Jackson?" she called. "I almost forgot." Holding his briefcase, he turned back to face her. "My cousin, Heather, called this morning." He nodded, all senses alert.

"Heather and her friend, Barbara, are interested in getting to know you better. Under the circumstances, I couldn't argue with them. I tried to get out of it, but they insisted on the four of us having dinner together. Would Friday night be okay?" He took a little longer to answer then he'd meant to. "That's fine. Just let me know what time." "Thanks." "Sure." He waited for her to shut the door, already irritated with himself for playing the overly worried and jealous husband when she'd first come home. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself. He heard her shuffling around in her room. If she'd been his real wife, he would have told her she didn't have to rush into finding another job. Maybe he'd tell her how she made him feel every time he held her in his arms--how he thought about her all day long. Or maybe he wouldn't tell her anything. Maybe he'd show her instead.

Chapter Ten "I can't believe he fired you." Jen said with disgust. Madison settled into an upholstered easy chair and tried to relax. Jackson had told her to make herself at home, but she still felt uncomfortable. "My boss is a rat," she told Jen. "When I heard about Adam's accident, I didn't think twice about waiting for Mr. Waggoner to return to the office so I could talk to him about what happened. I had no idea how bad Adam's injuries were until I arrived at the hospital." "How's he doing?" "He's one tough kid. A broken arm and fifteen stitches and the kid acts as if he skinned a knee." It disturbed her to think about how much worse it could've been. If Erin hadn't seen the car coming, hadn't screamed out, Adam might have been hit square on. "It really scared me seeing him in the hospital room--all black and blue. I called the hospital a little while ago. He's home now. He's going to be fine." Jen picked up her feet and rested them on the ottoman while Madison sifted through the want ads. Jen snapped her fingers. "I've got an idea. Why don't you forget about finding another job and take the next few months off while you're living here? When you get your share of the inheritance you can pay off any debt you've accrued." "I have a mortgage to pay," Madison reminded her. "And a Helmut Lang suit to pay off, thanks to you." "That suit would've lasted you another ten years if you hadn't gotten everything from grass to grease stains on it." Madison set aside the newspaper and gazed out one of the many windows in Jackson's living room. She watched a Blue Jay spread its wings in an ornamental basin outside. "This is my third day of unemployment," she told Jen. "I'm getting antsy. I need a job." "This is what I call the good life," Jen said. "I'll have to take more vacation days while you're living here." "Earth to Madison," Jen said after a few moments of silence. "You really have it bad for Jackson, don't you?" Madison scoffed at the notion. "We hardly speak to one another." "From what you've told me, I think he has the hots for you." "I'm just another responsibility to him." "I've been thinking about what you said about his not wanting to care for anyone else. I think I know what's eating at him." "What?" "You. He cares about you, Madison. You're as beautiful inside as you are outside, but for some reason you just don't see it. Jackson cares about you and it's driving him nuts." Madison made a hissing noise. "I'm not a psychologist, but it seems to me he pretends he's annoyed by you because that helps to keep distance between the two of you. If he didn't like you, though, he wouldn't have kissed you--bottom line." "You just won't give up, will you?" "No, really," Jen explained. "It's that fine-line thing going on between love and hate. Admiration and contempt. Affection and--" "Stop it," Madison said with a wave of her hand, "you're way off base here." "I don't think so," Jen said. "And that probably has you just as frightened as poor ol' Jackson, because that means the ball is in your court."

Madison didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Earth to Jen," she said. "Once again you've completely lost me." "You need to show Jackson that caring about someone doesn't always have to be a burden. Get him to open up." Madison shook her head. "I tried that when I told him we should be able to talk and be friends. That's when he asked me to keep my distance." "That's because you went about it all wrong. You need to get him into bed first. Then he'll talk." "Been there, done that. Besides, sex isn't everything it's made out to be." Jen stood, picked up her empty glass and headed for the kitchen. "You just haven't been with the right man. I told you Steve would be--" "Let's not drag Steve into this," Madison interrupted. Jen stood and went to the kitchen, leaving Madison with her thoughts. Jen didn't understand. Madison's relationship with men was too complicated to lay out nice and tidy like neatly folded laundry. She had tried to be a part of her father's life. But nothing had worked. At the AA meetings she'd attended with her father before he moved away, she'd learned that she was a co-dependent. She'd thought she was helping him, but it turned out she'd only been making things worse. By the time Steve had come into her life, she'd been so overjoyed to find a man who didn't need booze or money to make him happy, she'd put him on a pedestal. Keeping Steve happy had turned out to be an addiction. She learned to cook gourmet meals for him, took up scuba diving for him, memorized the stats of every baseball player for him. She baked, cleaned, did everything she could think of to please him. And then he left her. But not before telling her she had smothered him, and he couldn't take it anymore. She expelled a deep breath. There was no way she could help Jackson Lang. But she'd bet her soul that she could ruin him. "What about the kiss?" Jen asked as she moseyed back into the living room. "I told you...it was a pity kiss." "It's your life," Jen said. "Just remember, though. In less than three months, you'll be walking out of this house for good. No more Jackson. I hate to see you leave without trying everything to give yourself a chance at happiness. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life regretting what could have been?" Jen spoke in a dramatic, dreamy voice. "Can you honestly leave here knowing you might have been the one person who could have helped Jackson overcome his paranoia when it comes to caring for people? Caring for someone doesn't always mean giving and doing--sometimes caring just means being happy and content. Maybe he needs you almost as much as those kids do." "He's got everything, Jen. A house, money, friends, a brother who loves him. He certainly doesn't need me." "If you say so." Through the window Madison watched the Blue Jay chase away the smaller birds. How could she help someone who didn't need help, didn't want help? And even if he did--what could she do for him? Drive him to drink? Smother him as she had smothered Steve? Jen's questions stirred up something in the deep, stagnant caves of her subconscious. Hope. There it was again...that God-awful word that always sent shivers up her spine. Maybe, just maybe, she and Jackson could help each other. "So, what do you suggest I do?" "Seduce him." "I tried that. I'm not ready to give him another reason to turn me down." "Before you climb into his bed, we need to take you shopping." "You're not listening," Madison told her disillusioned friend. The possibility of Jackson caring about her might be intriguing, but she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to put herself out on a limb, so to speak. "Just be yourself," Jen told her. "Every time Jackson's around you become rigid, nervous. You need to

loosen up." "I can't help it," Madison said. "He'd downright intimidating at times. He's either annoyed with me or kissing me." "Look into his eyes when he says hello. Don't look at the floor. Let your hair down. Relax." "And wear a little more makeup," Pam chimed in, sweeping into the room as if she'd been in on the conversation all along. Pam was the cook when Chris couldn't make it. She, too, had an open-door policy with Jackson, coming and going as she pleased. Madison sighed. Just what she needed--more advice for the relationship impaired. Between Jen and Pam, she didn't stand a chance. "I'm so glad you two are here," Pam said. "I came early so I could take a swim. It's hot outside. Why don't you two join me? I don't have a pool so I keep extra bathing suits here for days like this. We'll have a girl party. We can paint our nails and give the new bride some advice," she told Jen. It was noon by the time Madison, Jen, and Pam had their iced tea and enough polish to do the nails of every woman in Los Angeles. Pam was a manicurist and she kept enough nail paraphernalia in the trunk of her car to fill a small beauty shop. As soon as Madison finished setting up the lawn chairs near the pool, Pam handed her and Jen their suits. "You call this a bathing suit?" Madison asked. "Oh, come on," Pam said with a click of her tongue. "You're not one of those modest chicks, are you? It's just us girls. Nobody's going to look." Jen laughed. "You think this is funny?" Madison asked. "Let's trade bathing suits. At least yours will cover your butt!" "No way." Jen hid the pink-neon one-piece bathing suit behind her back. "You're the one who lost twenty-three pounds, not me. Besides, Pam's right. Who's going to see us? Jackson won't be home for hours." ~~~ "Throwing a party?" Jamie asked after he climbed out of Jackson's Porsche and shut the door. Jackson recognized the Volkswagen in the driveway as Madison's. And the red sedan belonged to Pam, but the green Jeep had him baffled. "Not that I know of. Madison said she was going job hunting this afternoon. She's very upset about losing her job." Jamie shrugged. "Maybe she came home for lunch. I still think it would be a great idea if we hired her at L & L. She's personable and easy on the eyes. She'd be great as the assistant director of sales." A frown creased Jackson's brow. "Keep interviewing." With a shrug, Jamie followed Jackson through the foyer and into the kitchen, colliding into his brother when Jackson stopped dead in his tracks. Jamie looked over Jackson's shoulder and through the large paned window over the sink. "Tell me I'm not dreaming." Jackson grimaced. "Your wife doesn't look upset to me." "No, she doesn't." "I must say Pam appears to be doing a fine job teaching Madison how to make the most of unemployment." Jamie cheerfully jingled the change in his pants pocket as he enjoyed the view. "What exactly do you call those things they're wearing? G-strings?" Jackson didn't say a word. He was too busy scowling and watching. Madison's petite frame possessed

more curves than the letter S. He hadn't been able to get the image of her standing before him in pink bra and panties out of his mind since bringing her home that first evening. Today she was stretched out on her stomach, her legs bent at the knees, her head swaying in time to the music. One hand was propped under her chin. The other dangled over the lounge chair while Pam painted her nails. Jamie headed back toward the front entrance. "I left my cell phone in the car and I'm expecting a call. I'll be right back." Before he made his exit, though, Jamie turned and snapped his fingers. "Thongs. That's what they're called." ~~~ Madison waited a few minutes for her nails to dry before sliding off the lounge chair. "I'll get more tea," she said, taking the glass pitcher from the outside table. "Let's see you do that walk I taught you," Pam said over the music. Madison sashayed her hips from side to side, laughing as she walked. "I can't do it. I feel ridiculous." Pam stood and walked toward her, her hips moving with seductive grace, demanding attention and making it look easy. "Come on, try it again," Pam said. Madison did as she asked. She took a calming breath and let her body guide her, concentrating on the sensuous feel of the sun on her body instead of thinking about her lack of coordination. "By George, I think you've got it!" Jen exclaimed. Pam clapped her hands. "Yes, I do believe she does." Madison grinned. "Thank you very much, girls. I'll be right back." After wiping her feet on the mat outside the door, she opened the glass-paned door and ran smack into a stone-hard chest. Jackson grabbed hold of her to keep her from falling. "What are you doing home?" His hands felt cool against her warm, oiled skin. "I live here, remember?" "Yes, of course, you do." They hadn't seen each other in days. She'd missed him. Two hours of instructions on how to seduce a man swirled through her mind, prompting her to flutter her eyelashes at him before gazing intensely into his eyes...undressing him in her mind. Pam and Jen's instructions had included being cool, calm, and collected. So, in an attempt to appear at ease, she dropped one shoulder slightly, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his. "I came by to pick up a few things." Jackson eyed her suspiciously when she didn't respond. "I thought you were hunting for a job this afternoon." With a shrug, she gave up on her attempt to put him into a sexual trance. "Well, I was going to," she told him, "but Jen stopped by, and then Pam. I guess you could say I got sidetracked." Her gaze dropped to her waist where large masculine hands still held her. If she thought her skin was warm before, it was steaming hot now. "Ummm. Thanks for saving me from falling." "Any time." His smile reached his eyes. The tie about his neck hung loose and the top buttons of his shirt were open, revealing honeyed skin and corded muscles. And that was just his neck. At a leisurely pace, she dragged her gaze upward until her eyes met his once again. With his hands touching her like they were, she felt sort of breathless. Her heart raced. "I was wondering about Adam," he said, his voice low and raspy. "How's the kid doing?" "He's home. He's doing much better." "That's good," he said. "Jamie's here." "Oh. Where is he?" "Around." Heat sizzled through her body as his gaze burned slowly over the length of her, lingering in the vicinity of her belly button.

Modesty finally won out and she put a hand over her stomach. A one-sided grin curved his mouth. "If I remember correctly," he teased, "the deal was to keep our clothes on." "I didn't know you had a pool at the time." "Ah, another exception to the rules..." "Exactly. There are always exceptions." She heard somebody approaching from the kitchen, but couldn't seem to pull her gaze from Jackson's. "Good afternoon," Jamie said. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she stepped away from Jackson. "Hello, Jamie." "Did my brother tell you the exciting news?" She shook her head, and then looked curiously at Jackson, who looked annoyed by his brother's presence. "Jackson insisted we come home to tell you," Jamie went on. "I'll be the first to admit that I'm very glad we did. Finding a trio of bathing beauties is a fringe benefit I hadn't counted on. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll join the ladies by the pool and let Jackson tell you himself." Madison didn't miss the scowl Jackson shot Jamie's way as his younger brother squeezed past them and disappeared outside. "What did you want to tell me?" "Is everything okay? You seem...different." "Different good or different bad?" she asked. Shaking his head, he took the empty pitcher from her and headed for the kitchen. He turned back suddenly as if he'd forgotten something. This time when he looked at her, he studied her, his gaze taking in every inch. Chills swept over her. "You look great," he said. "Now will you get some clothes on? Then we'll talk." ~~~ Jackson folded his arms over his chest as he waited for Madison to return. Pam was in the kitchen making sandwiches. Jackson watched his brother hover over her, trying to steal a piece of turkey. She slapped his hand. He glanced toward the door, making sure Madison wasn't on her way back before he said, "Why is it, little brother, that you seem to have a newfound fondness for taking control of my life?" Jamie popped an olive into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "What are you all hot under the collar about now?" Pam handed Jamie a turkey sandwich on a plate, garnished with fruit and parsley and said, "I think what Jackson means is that he didn't appreciate your inviting two hundred people to his wedding when it was supposed to be a small get-together." "Exactly," Jackson said. "And now," Pam went on, "you're offering his wife a job at his office when he'd rather have her work for minimum wage down the street at the local pub." Jackson grunted. Jamie gave his brother a smug smile. Madison waltzed into the kitchen, putting an end to the conversation. She'd changed from practically nothing to a sleeveless, V-neck shirt and a pair of shorts. Her hair was tied up with a ribbon, and she wore crisp white tennis shoes without socks. Stick a couple of pom-poms in her hands and she could easily be mistaken as one of the energetic cheerleaders from his college days.

"I'm back. And I'm dressed," Madison said, looking directly at Jackson. "So now will someone please tell me what's going on?" Pam smiled. "Sorry, but I'm leaving you with the boys. Jen and I are hungry." She picked up a plate of sandwiches and headed for the pool. Jamie pushed his plate aside and rubbed his hands together. "Jackson and I were talking the other day about interviewing for a position at L & L. Assistant director of sales, to be exact." As his brother rambled on, Jackson kept his eyes on Madison. Something was definitely going on. He'd never seen her look so confident. It was as if she'd climbed out of a cocoon and was now testing her wings. "And," Jamie finished, "we both agreed you'd be perfect for the job." Madison eyes lit up. "Me? You're offering me a job?" She lunged for Jamie, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. "What am I?" Jackson asked. "Chopped liver?" He sounded like a jealous fool and the twin expressions on Madison and Jamie's faces confirmed it. Madison released Jamie and gave Jackson a winning smile. And before he could make up some silly excuse for blurting out such a ridiculous cliche, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the mouth, making it hard for him to think, making it hard to remember what he was doing here...and just plain making him hard. Much too soon, she released her hold on him and stepped back, but she still had his hand clasped in hers, squeezing it as she talked, her expressive eyes lighting up the room. "This is so unexpected. What does an assistant director of sales do? When will I start?" Jamie laughed, obviously enjoying Jackson's discomfort, knowing full well he hadn't wanted Madison working at L & L, because it would only make things more difficult down the road. "The job is yours," Jackson said. "For now. Under the circumstances, though, I think it would be best if we considered this arrangement temporary." "I see." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, that would make sense under the circumstances. Who will I be working for?" "Me," Jamie cut in. "I'll show you the ropes, introduce you around the office." She looked at Jackson. "So what you're saying is that I should keep looking for another job?" "Not at the moment, but later it might be uncomfortable for both of us if you didn't." She seemed to ponder on that, and as she did so, Jackson tried once again to put his finger on exactly what had happened to her. It was almost as if some sort of metamorphosis had taken place overnight. "You might be right," she admitted, her tone serious as she made her way to the refrigerator and added ice and more tea to the empty pitcher sitting on the counter. "There might be one little problem, though." "What's that?" "I might do such a good job that you won't want to let me go." She smiled at Jamie and then winked at Jackson. And then she walked away, leaving the two men to themselves, her ponytail swaying as she disappeared out of sight. Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. "By George, I think she might be right!" Jamie said with a chuckle. Ignoring his brother, Jackson turned to the kitchen window overlooking the pool and watched Madison serve tea to her guests. He wasn't sure what bothered him more--the fact that she might be right and he wouldn't want to let her go, or that he'd asked her to put on clothes.

Chapter Eleven Two days later, Madison hummed the tune, "What a Wonderful World," as she readied herself for dinner. Although she wasn't thrilled at the prospect of having dinner with Heather, Barbara, and now Mr. Razzano, she couldn't stop smiling. Ever since Jen and Pam had convinced her to relax and be herself around Jackson, they had been getting along wonderfully. Although he hadn't tried to kiss her or make any sort of move in that direction, everything seemed better between them. At least he could talk to her now without scowling. Sometimes he even smiled for no reason at all. Her job at L & L Developing was only the icing on the cake. Jen would scold her if she knew she was no longer falling for Jackson--she was in love with the man. Jen might even try to convince her that it was lust. But Madison could feel it in her bones and breathe it in the air--it was love, that wonderful emotion that made the grass look greener and the air smell sweeter. He could be bull-headed and gruff, but she'd seen the softer side of him. He wasn't as unpleasant as he wanted her to think he was. She could see it in his eyes when he smiled, she felt his gentle side in every kiss and every time he held her close. Yesterday, Pam and Jen had taken her shopping and now she had her things laid out on the bed as she inspected her recent purchases. Shopping for clothes wasn't her forte and thus she couldn't remember ever having so much fun hunting for outfits and shoes and makeup. She needed the clothes for work. Thanks to Pam, a pair of very short shorts lay on the bed next to a simple, yet clingy, white blouse. Then there was the beautiful sage suit she'd bought for her first day at her new job and two pairs of tailored slacks. She turned to the mirror to view the dress she wore now--her favorite purchase of all--a Vince Camuto sleeveless A-line dress. The color was hot azalea and the pleated skirt cut above the knees made her legs look two inches longer. She hadn't felt this pretty since the Starlight Ball. There was one more purchase still in the bag, where it would have to stay for now. According to Pam, that particular item made of black lace was designed to get the attention of even the most stubborn of men. Two hours later, Madison picked at her potatoes with her fork and wondered why she'd ever thought, even for a minute, that this dinner might be fun. Crisp white tablecloths and chandeliers sparkled in the dim light of La Virage, the Italian restaurant Heather had chosen for dinner. The conversation for the past hour had been as stiff as the linens and as reserved as the waiters. Jackson had hardly glanced her way all evening and she was sitting right next to him. She couldn't help but wonder if his somber mood stemmed from the fact that she would be working for him starting Monday or because he was being forced to play the part of a caring husband again. Throughout dinner she'd done everything possible to get his attention, including touching his arm, holding his hand, and brushing against him every chance she got. But nothing worked. As the minutes ticked by, he became more distant and unreadable. "So," Barbara said, as a waiter cleared some of the dinner plates from the table. "When are you two going on your honeymoon?" Madison coughed into her napkin. Why hadn't she thought of that? The idea had never crossed her mind. "We're still trying to decide where we want to go," Jackson said. That statement made Madison choke in earnest until Jackson handed her a glass of water. "Europe would be nice," Heather said. "I was hoping I could talk Madison into a trip to Italy, but it seems my wife has her heart set on New Orleans."

Madison planted a smile on her face as Jackson rambled on with an incredible story of how it was her life-long dream to visit the historic French Quarter--the same story, verbatim, she'd given Mr. Razzano. Then Jackson further surprised her when he lifted her hand and held it close to his chest as he played with her fingers, one at a time, right there in front of everyone. Trying to appear unaffected by such a simple touch, she nodded her head in agreement to everything he said. "For weeks now," Jackson continued, "Madison has been talking passionately about her desire to see the charm of an old European town, not to mention her aspirations of collecting as many beads as possible when she parades down Bourbon Street for the first time." Barbara gasped and Madison followed suit. "I did not say that!" Jackson looked at her with a raised brow. It was impossible to tell if the man was joking or not. Either way, Madison burst out laughing at how ridiculous he was acting. "You have quite a sense of humor," Mr. Razzano said, when he realized Jackson was teasing. "Yes, he does," Heather agreed flatly, "a characteristic that will come in handy when their house is filled with dozens of noisy little brats--I mean children." She poured a dab of cream into her coffee and stirred. "Did you know, Jackson, that Madison always talked about having a dozen children? Six boys and six girls. Isn't that right, dear?" Jackson placed his other hand, the one nobody else could see, on Madison's knee. He gave her a squeeze, letting her know he didn't care what they were saying. As Heather and Barbara begin to talk about the horrors that would come to any couple with more than two kids, Jackson gave Madison a sly look that told her two could play at the game she'd been playing all night long. He was on to her. He knew darn well she'd been trying to get his attention for most of the night. His thumb pushed the hem of her dress a smidgeon higher. She shivered. He was much better at this game than she'd anticipated. His thumb brushed over the inner, sensitive area of her thigh above her knee, making her quiver. If she wasn't surrounded by all these people, she might have let out a small moan. Instead, she smiled at nobody in particular and tried to relax. If one thumb could make her lose her mind, she could hardly imagine what all ten digits could do. "Isn't that right, Madison?" Heather said again. Distracted, Madison started, her eyes widening as she realized Heather was talking to her. "Right," she blurted. Mr. Razzano seemed preoccupied with finishing his meal, but Heather was not happy. Her expression had turned fierce, her porcelain skin drawn taut over high cheekbones. "You weren't listening to a word I said, were you?" Jackson gave Madison's leg another squeeze and said, "She has a lot on her mind right now, what with starting a new job and--" Heather's face pinched tighter. "What new job, dear?" "Starting Monday, I'll be working for Jackson," Madison said, the tension between their small group palpable. "Doing what?" Heather wanted to know, her tone laced with resentment. Jackson removed his hand from Madison's leg and placed it around her shoulder instead. "She'll be our new assistant sales director," he announced. "She's an accountant, for God's sake. You don't just throw somebody into a position like that unless--" "Unless what, Heather?" If Madison didn't know better, she'd say Jackson was daring Heather to question his choice in hiring whom he pleased. If ever she wanted to take Jackson's hand and drag him off to bed, it was now. Nobody

had ever stood up to Heather before, and certainly never in her defense. The idea of it made her regard Jackson with open fondness. Heather dabbed her mouth with her napkin and excused herself. When she returned from the ladies room, she had a man at her side, a familiar looking man...Steve. Of all the people to show up tonight, she never would have guessed it would be her old boyfriend. Coincidence? Madison looked from Steve to Heather. No, not a coincidence. Jen was right. Heather was up to her old tricks, determined to do everything possible to put an end to her marriage to Jackson. Why hadn't she seen it before? Of course, that's what Heather was doing. Why else would Heather have asked her to dinner? And what a remarkable coincidence that Mr. Razzano had called soon after. What an idiot she had been to think Heather might be happy for her and wanted to make amends. Was Barbara in on it, too? Suddenly it all made sense. She was a fool. "Madison, is that you?" Steve asked, his voice lined with exaggerated surprise. Mr. Razzano straightened. He was all ears. Madison felt sick as she nodded at Steve, letting him know it was indeed the same Madison he'd treated so horribly all those years. The same Madison who had cowered every time he entered a room. The same Madison who had done anything and everything to please him. "You finally lost some weight," Steve said. "I always knew you'd look sizzling hot if you just lost a few pounds." An awkward silence hovered over their table. Steve raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "What? Did I say something wrong?" He playfully nudged Madison's arm. "Stand up, let me see you. Madison and I were this close," Steve said, squeezing his thumb and index finger together, "to spending the rest of our lives together. Weren't we, babe?" He slid his cold, clammy hand up her arm. "I think you should go," Madison said, her hands trembling. "You're still upset about Gloria, aren't you?" Madison closed her eyes. She knew Steve well enough to know he wasn't going to leave without making a scene. "Steve, I'd like you to meet my husband, Jackson Lang." Jackson pushed his chair back and stood tall. "Remove your hand from my wife or I'm afraid you might not be walking out of here on your own two legs." "It won't be a pretty sight," Madison warned. Mr. Razzano's eyes widened. Barbara remained silent, as did Heather. Steve looked thoroughly perplexed by the idea of Madison being married. "Remove your hand now," Jackson told Steve. "I'm not going to ask again." Red-faced, Steve said, "You're all crazy!" And then he stormed off, taking himself to the bar. "What an exciting night this is turning out to be," Barbara exclaimed while Heather mumbled something under her breath and plopped back into her seat. ~~~ It was past midnight by the time Madison led Barbara and Heather to the door. They had all come back to the house for a nightcap and Madison was eager to see them off. "Good night," she called, waving goodbye as their guests finally drove away. She turned toward Jackson. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jackson reached a hand over her shoulder, pushing the door shut with one small nudge. "Not so bad?" They both laughed.

He looked devastatingly handsome. He'd been a perfect gentleman all night. Not only had he made her laugh more than once tonight, he'd made her want him more than she'd ever imagined wanting a man, which is why she ducked under his arm and set about gathering the porcelain cups in the dining room. When her hands were full, she headed for the kitchen. Jackson followed close behind. "What are you trying to do to me?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "You know exactly what I'm talking about. For instance, that dress you're wearing. What happened to your collection of baggy t-shirts and overalls? And where are those ridiculous eyeglasses of yours?" She set the tea cups on the granite counter. "Who do you think you are, my father?" With a snort, she attempted to march past him, but he put out his arm to stop her. She lifted her chin. "If my 'ridiculous' glasses bothered you so much, you should have said something." "I just did." He moved closer, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body and smell his fresh earthy scent. His eyes darkened. "You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know what's gotten into you?" "Not this again. I have no idea what you're talking about. It's late. I'm going to bed." "This is what I'm talking about." He lifted her chin with the pad of his thumb. She couldn't help but stare at his hand, the same strong hand that had held her interest most of the night as she imagined his long, capable fingers exploring all of her. With a sigh, she pressed her cheek against his palm. She was done playing games. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He brushed his mouth against hers and kissed her, thoroughly this time, his mouth warm, his tongue hot. With a whispered moan, she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her hips closer. He kissed her throat, her cheek, her ear. "Is this what you want?" His words came out in a husky whisper, tingly and warm against her skin, sending chills up her spine. "Hmmm," she said into his mouth as his lips hovered over hers once again. That's all it took. He swooped her into his arms. Burying her face into the hollow of his neck, she rested against him as he carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs. He took long easy strides down the hallway and to his bedroom. Blood flowed hot through her veins, every inch of her craving his touch. The door to his room was open and he carried her straight to his bed. Gazing at the strong line of his throat, she let out a long sigh when he laid her on the bed and brushed her hair away from her face. As he hovered over her, gazing down at her, her insides whirred with churning anticipation. She would go mad if he didn't kiss her again soon. He seductively outlined her lips with his finger. His gentleness and the way he was taking his time with her was agonizing torture. "Jackson," she said in a breathless whisper, the tip of her tongue grazing his thumb. "What?" "I feel as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life." "Waiting for what? Tell me." The sound of his husky voice aroused her almost as much as having his body pressed against hers. "Waiting for you to hold me, touch me, and make love to me all night long." His mouth curved into a smile. "Then you have nothing to worry about because we've only just begun." His lips left a searing path over her throat. She arched into him as his hand curled around her back where he unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra. His mouth traveled over her shoulder, his jaw brushing over her skin as he removed her dress, sliding the fabric easily down to her waist. With desire coursing through every part of her body, she reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. She ran her fingers through a dark feathering of hair that spanned across his chest and over his flat torso before disappearing under the top band of his slacks. Next, she removed his belt. His dark eyes shimmered beneath the moonlight filtering in through the window.

He lowered his head, every movement confident and sensual, arousing her to new heights with every touch. His tongue moved across her breast. She dug her fingers into his hair and brought him impossibly closer. Before long he raised his head so he could nibble on her ear, teasing her with his rough, throaty voice as he painted a mental picture of what he was going to do to her next. Her body sizzled with anticipation as he slid her dress down from her waist and tossed it aside. Bringing his mouth back to hers, he coaxed her lips open so he could kiss her deeply while his fingers slid downward over her hips and between her thighs. His warm breath spilled across her neck and shoulders as he removed her lacy pink undergarments. "What are you feeling now?" "Hot," she said, "alive." Caressing his strong shoulders, the moment his hand slid between her legs, she dropped her head against the soft pillows and urged him onward. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked, his voice husky, his breathing uneven. "Show me." She felt him hard against her hips. His mouth covered hers again as she fumbled with his zipper as if time were running out. She'd never felt so desperate--a primitive need like nothing she'd ever experience before consumed her. She tugged at his pants, frustration gaining the upper hand. She needed him now, this instance. Devilish charm lit up Jackson's eyes as he took hold of her wrists and pushed her arms back, flat against the mattress. "What are you doing? I need to touch you. I want you now," she commanded. A cocky grin curved his lips before he lowered his head and nibbled at her ear. "What is it you want exactly?" "You," she said, her voice a throaty whisper. "I want you." His warm breath left goose bumps against her neck."How badly do you want me?" "So badly I might expire right here and now if you don't do something about it...and quickly." Satisfied, he let go of her wrists. He then slid off the bed and hastily removed the rest of his clothes. He pulled a condom from the bedside table and slipped it on. By the time he was pressed up against her again, her patience had worn thin, making him grin. She wriggled against him, her hips arching. He kissed her mouth. "Not yet, sweetheart." "You're not playing fair." "This isn't a game." "No," she said. "You're right. It's not a game." Her palm brushed against his jaw. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she knew it was too soon. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders, splayed against his backside when he entered her. There was no holding back once he finally gave in, giving her what she wanted. Giving and giving until she cried out as he sank lower, hard and deep. Her legs quivered. This was her husband making love to her; the same man who had dared to believe in her and take a chance. The man whose mere gaze made her feel alive and beautiful. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her face as his hands slid beneath the curve of her bottom. A second rippling sensation erupted, and then shattered, winding down into small pleasurable pulses. After a moment, their heartbeats slowed and he slid to her side, leaving one hand to rest across her stomach. Content, she burrowed her head between his shoulder and chest. "Jackson?" "Hmmm?" He kissed the top of her head. "I had no idea making love could be so good." "Neither did I." She lifted her head, thinking he was teasing until she saw the earnestness on his face. "Really?"

He rolled over, pinning her body beneath his. "Really." "It seems that I keep breaking my own rules." "Rules are made to be broken." Were hearts made to be broken, too? she wondered. "What are we going to do now?" "I guess we'll have to get married." She smiled and then kissed his throat, prompting him to roll to his back and prop his arms beneath his head. He reminded her of an ad in a magazine--a charismatic, male model. Untouchable. Way too gorgeous to be real or to be looking at her as if he was enchanted by her, too.

Chapter Twelve Ten weeks as man and wife and Jackson felt as eager to see Madison this morning as he had after spending their first night together. At the moment, he could hear her shuffling through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom as he lay in bed with a bad cold. Releasing a helpless groan, he hid a smile when she rushed from the bathroom and made her way to his side. She gave the thermometer a shake before guiding it gently under his tongue. Next, she placed a cool palm on his forehead. "I'm late for work," she told him. "If I can get away, I'll come home at lunch to check on you." He tried to speak with the thermometer in his mouth, but she gave him the look that told him he'd better not try it. The same one-raised-brow look she'd been giving him whenever he worked long hours, didn't eat right, or cursed at the driver in front of them on their way to work. "Don't forget I'm still on probation," she told him. "I happen to take my responsibilities seriously." The thermometer beeped. "100.2o. That's it. I'm calling the doctor." Jackson grabbed hold of her hand. "No doctor. There's only one thing you can do for me now." "Some kind of cure-all?" "Exactly." Her lips curved. "Go on." He pulled her to his chest. "Stay here with me today. We'll read that book of yours. One Hundred Ways to Please--" "And that is going to get you up and running?" "I don't know about running, but it would definitely get me up." She shook her head at his ridiculous teasing. "I've got to get to work." She pushed away from him and retrieved her jacket from an overstuffed chair nearby. "Rumor has it that my boss has the disposition of a grouchy troll whenever one of his employees is late." "You're wrong," Jackson declared. "I happen to know your boss. He's a great guy." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah," he said, admiring her legs. "As a matter of fact, I've heard many people say he's downright charming." "You just want to get me into trouble," she said. "I have to go. There are at least two contracts that need to go out today. Jamie will panic if I don't get there on time." "Forget about Jamie. As I was saying," Jackson went on, ignoring her pleas, "your boss is a fair man who knows all about exceptions to the rules." Once again Jackson found himself mesmerized by her sparkling blue eyes. Over the past weeks they'd made love more times than he could count, but every time felt like the first--exciting, exhilarating...completely unexpected. "What kind of exceptions?" she asked, her hips swaying seductively as she walked back toward him. "For example," he said, "your boss might ask a particular employee why he or she was late. If the reason had merit, he'd let it go." "Just like that?" He snapped his fingers. "Just like that." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, unknowingly giving him a glimpse of creamy skin through her blouse. His pulse quickened. "Jackson, you're burning up."

"I already told you what you have to do. We haven't even tried that ice cube trick you read about or those candles you mentioned." She laughed. "You're beyond help. If I knew how twisted you were, I never would have agreed to marry you." "We made a deal. It's too late." "Yes, but our bargain didn't include ice cubes and melted wax." "The wax was your idea," he reminded her. She arched one beautiful brow and said, "I read about the wax trick in an old issue of Cosmopolitan. I never would have thought up such a thing all on my own." "We'll have to renew your subscription." She chuckled and Jackson knew she was wearing down, losing the battle. "If you didn't make me beg for you every night, I wouldn't come up with such ridiculous ideas," Madison teased. "And I might never have seen your creative side." "Melted wax would probably hurt." "Stay home. We'll find out." He reached for her hand. This time she surrendered. As he knew she would. He was feverish, all right. Burning up with passion and fever, but no less energetic as he stripped her naked, one piece of clothing at a time. Suddenly she slid off the bed and headed for the door. "You can't leave now." Standing before him, she looked beautiful, a work of art that would surely linger in his mind for eternity. Her skin was flawless, the pins from her hair loose, her lips pink and moist. "I'll be right back." She returned a few minutes later and climbed onto the bed. She made him place his hands beneath his head while she cleverly used the ice cube she'd retrieved to explore his body, using it to trace a spiraling path down his chest, her tongue trailing close behind. She was merciless--wouldn't allow him to touch her. She smelled like citrus and flowers and once again he found himself thoroughly enchanted. This time when they made love she didn't beg at all. He did enough begging for the both of them. ~~~ "Jamie is going to have my head," Madison said a few hours later as she came back into the room, dressed in a different suit altogether as she collected her discarded clothes. "You may be right," he said. "Jamie's not as understanding as I am. He used to be known as Pinkman at the office." "Pinkman?" "Yes, because of all the pink slips he handed out." "Now you tell me." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she slipped on her pumps. "Chris and Pam returned from Hawaii last night, so they should be here soon to feed you. That should make you feel better since I have the distinct impression you're getting tired of my cooking." "You call that cooking?" Smiling, she slid a hand over his chest. "But you didn't marry me for my skills as a chef, remember?" "Why did I marry you?" Amusement flickered in his eyes. Because it was love at first sight, she thought, willing him to say the words. "Because you're a nice guy," she said instead. "And you're a sucker for a woman in distress."

She kissed his stubbled cheek, retrieved her purse from the bedside table, and headed for the door. "I've got to go. I'll call you later." "That's it? You really are leaving me here to fend for myself?" "Don't even start." She got as far as the door. "But I thought you and that boss of yours had something special." "Oh, we do," she said. "But I'm afraid sometimes that's just not enough." Jackson watched her disappear, wondering if there was some sort of hidden meaning in her words. You're right, Madison, he said to himself. The boss doesn't like you. He adores you, lusts after you. And in two weeks, if he lets you walk out that door for good, he's an idiot. ~~~ "Are you sure you want to do this?" Jen asked. Madison smoothed the tablecloth over the dining room table. "Of course, I'm sure. I love him and I'm going to tell him. What better day to do it, then on his birthday? He thinks I'm going out with you and Pam tonight, so he'll be surprised." "It's too soon," Jen said. Pam snipped off the stems of a dozen red roses and plunked them into a vase. "I think it's wonderfully romantic." Madison ignored Pam and said, "I thought you said you weren't going to rush things." Madison placed two crystal candleholders on the table. "What's wrong with you, Jen? You're not the type to worry. What happened to the go-for-it, tell-him-how-you-feel, say-it-like-it-is friend I know so well?" "She's standing right here," Jen said in a serious tone. "Seducing Jackson was one thing, but telling him you love him is downright suicidal. You said yourself you weren't sure if he feels the same about you. You're still too vulnerable. Pouring salt into an old wound isn't something I recommend to people I care about." Smiling, Madison wrapped her arms around Jen and gave her a hug. "I've put a lot of thought into this, I promise you. After I tell Jackson how I feel, I know I can handle whatever it is he has to say--or not say. Whether he realizes it or not, he loves me, too. I can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch." "This is exactly what you wanted so badly to avoid," Jen reminded her. "But no. I pushed and prodded until you had no choice but to go through with this ridiculous marriage." "Madison is right," Pam cut in. "Jackson hasn't been the same since he met her. He's kinder, gentler, a little more patient. He's in love. I know he is, and so does Chris." Madison smiled at her new friend. "Thanks." "What about the kids?" Jen asked. "You did this for them and we already know they're not overly fond of Jackson. What if Jackson doesn't want anything to do with them? They're not the easiest kids to get along with. I should know." Madison inspected the wine glasses for spots before placing them next to the china. "I thought of that, too. I had a heart to heart with all of the kids. Even Adam and Erin agreed to meet with him. I have a dozen children from CFC coming here on Saturday for a barbecue. It might take Jackson some time, but I have complete faith in him. He's a great guy with a big heart. He just needs to learn how to open up and allow himself to care about people again." "I don't want to see you get hurt," Jen said. "I couldn't bear it." Pam looked at her watch. "Come on, Jen, let's get out of here. Loverboy should be home any minute now and we don't want to ruin the surprise."

Glancing at her watch, Madison felt her heart thumping against her chest at the thought of finally telling Jackson that she loved him. "By the way," Pam said, "that dress is perfect. It'll knock him dead!" Madison did a pirouette, her short black dress floating high above her knees. "You look great," Jen agreed. "And I hope you know I only wish you the best." Smiling, Madison walked her friends to the door. As soon as they drove away, her insecurities hurdled forward and she found herself wondering if Jen was right. Was it too soon? Was she committing relationship suicide? ~~~ Jackson reread the contract in front of him for the third time, but his concentration level was less than zero. He was used to working twelve hour days without missing a beat, but lately he found himself glancing at his watch well before six. Through his office door he saw his assistant getting ready to call it a day. Before Madison started working at L & L, he used to keep his door shut. Not anymore. Now he left it open, hoping to get a glimpse of her if she happened to walk by or bring him a file courtesy of his brother, Jamie. He tapped the end of a pencil to his chin. Madison was right when she'd warned him two months ago that he might not want to let her go. He never would have guessed that the thought of living without her would make his insides twist and turn. The truth of the matter was, he'd never been happier. He rubbed his temple. Time was running out. He needed to talk to Heather, tell her he couldn't fulfill his end of the bargain. More importantly, he needed to tell Madison the truth about his part in all of this. She wouldn't be happy about it. She'd be good and mad at him for not telling her the truth sooner. But if she'd give him a chance to explain, he could only pray she would understand. "Happy Birthday, Jackson!" Sheila exclaimed as she breezed through the door unexpectedly. Jackson came to his feet. Sheila came rushing around his desk so she could wrap her arms around his neck. "It's been too long," she said. "I've missed you." The sweet smell of her perfume brought back old memories, mostly of empty moments and meaningless nights. An urge to apologize for those wasted years swept over him. He stepped back. "You look good, Sheila. How have you been?" "I'll admit, I've been better." She forced a smile. "I've been thinking about you all day...all month, in fact. Make that two and a half months." The look in her eyes told him she was hoping he would say he felt the same. When he said nothing, she sighed. "I was hoping you would let me take you out for a drink, for old time's sake." He thought about Madison and how he wanted to get home to her. But then he remembered her telling him she was going out with the girls tonight. He hadn't wanted to spoil her fun by telling her it was his birthday, so he'd said nothing. "I want to apologize for making a scene at your wedding." She put a hand on his arm. "I just always hoped..." "I should have told you first. I'm sorry. " Her cherry red lips parted into a smile. "Then you'll join me for a drink? You owe me that much." He couldn't help but wonder if she was up to something. He wasn't the trusting type. And that thought, too, made him think of Madison because she had told him he needed to trust people--learn to open up. "You're welcome to invite your wife," Sheila added. "She's out with friends tonight."

"On your birthday?" "She doesn't know." "Same old Jackson, I see. Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Just one drink, I promise." He shut off his computer, and then picked up the phone and dialed home. The last thing he was in the mood for was having a drink with Sheila, but hell, he thought, it was his birthday, and besides, Madison would understand. She always understood. "The line's busy. She must be home, after all." The thought cheered him immeasurably. "Why don't you follow me in your car? We'll stop by the house to pick her up if she's there. Maybe her friends cancelled." As he retrieved his jacket, he realized how much he'd changed in a few short months. For the first time in years he wasn't living contract to contract. Instead he was living day to day, moment to moment. For the first time in his life, he felt content. ~~~ Madison dimmed the lights, put on a Kenny G CD, and glanced at the table she'd set. Everything looked perfect: candles, chilled champagne, flowers, music. Picking up the small gift she'd wrapped and topped with a bow, she pretended he just walked into the room. "Here you are, darling. Happy Birthday. I love you." She wrinkled her nose. That wouldn't work at all. She cleared her throat and started over. Opening her eyes wide, she held out the box for him to take. "Happy Birthday, Jackson. I love you and here's a small gift. It's nothing really, just a little something to show you how I feel." She set the box on the table, exhaled, and fidgeted with the sleeves of her new dress, a sensual bodyconscious dress with ruffled tiers tumbling down the hem. It was sheer black with a wide scooped neck. Maybe she shouldn't try so hard. Just let the evening take its course. When the right time presented itself, she could tell him how she felt. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caused her pulse to quicken. She took a deep breath. When she heard the jingle of keys, she clasped her hands together and turned toward the door. Only it wasn't Jackson who walked through the door. It was Sheila, the same woman who had shown up at their wedding, and she looked like a million bucks. Why would Jackson bring her here to their house? But it wasn't their house, she reminded herself. It was his house and he'd thought she would be gone tonight. Jackson followed Sheila in, chuckling over some amusing tidbit shared between just the two of them. Sheila let out a small cough in an obvious attempt to catch Jackson's attention, no doubt to let him know the jig was up--they'd been found out. Jackson looked up, both of his thick, two-timing brows lifting in surprise when he saw her. Madison's eyes stung. The decked out table behind her was going to give her away. The last thing she wanted was for Jackson to see all the trouble she'd gone to. "Oh, you're home," she said indifferently. "I was just on my way out." She turned about and blew out the candles. The soft, romantic music playing in the background wasn't helping matters. She scuttled over to the stereo, tripping on the Persian rug in her haste to make a hasty getaway. "You two go ahead and do whatever you were about to do," she said with a casual wave of her hand. "Don't mind me." Neither Jackson nor Sheila moved. As Madison gathered the Waterford crystal from the table and returned it to the hutch, she said, "I was just leaving, so your timing couldn't have been better. I'm supposed to--" Madison's mind went suddenly blank. She was supposed to do what? Her heart was lodged in her

throat. Her eyes misted. Blinking, she inwardly scolded herself for even entertaining the idea of crying in front of the man. She'd never forgive herself. "It appears that your wife had plans." Sheila's voice resembled the purr of a well-tuned Mercedes: buttery soft, elegant...expensive. Madison shook her head. "No, no. I had no plans. I happened to see a television show the other day about setting tables. I thought I'd give it a whirl. That's all." She collected the napkins and shoved them in the top drawer of the hutch. This was ridiculous. What had she been thinking? That Jackson was going to gaze into her eyes, tell her she was the only woman for him, and then confess his love for her? What a fool she was. Always the fool. Jackson came to her side and touched her arm, setting her back in motion. Leaning over the wide mahogany table, Madison picked up the silverware and tried to pretend he wasn't even there. "Sheila stopped by the office to apologize for the scene at the wedding," he explained, "and to invite us both out for a drink." He sounded sincere. They always did when they'd been caught red-handed. "I was hoping you would come, too." Madison looked into his eyes. "Is that so?" He looked at the glinting forks in her hand. "Are you upset about something?" Tall, gorgeous Sheila, who should be gracing the cover of Vogue, waited patiently by the front entrance. No, she wasn't upset. Liar. Madison pointed the forks at her chest. "Me? Upset? Whatever gave you that idea? You didn't think this"--she pointed to the table--"was for you, did you?" He looked at the table as if he were noticing it for the first time. "It wasn't?" "Of course not," she said, feigning a chuckle. "I told you I was going out tonight, but I never told you who with. You probably assumed it was Jen." Jackson appeared baffled. She breezed past him, making her way to the hutch. She opened the silverware drawer and threw in the forks. She should've known that there wasn't a man in the world who could love just her. "You've got my curiosity piqued," Jackson said. "Who were you meeting?" "You mean, who am I meeting?" "Okay, that's what I mean." His mouth was a straight line. She'd made him angry. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. Stop now before you bury yourself, Madison. Before you say something you don't mean. Sheila cleared her throat. They both ignored her. "His name is Zachary," Madison lied. She watched Sheila make herself comfortable on the Colonial Revival settee in the marbled entry. Probably placed there for just this sort of occasion. Jackson's little waiting area. "Zachary." Jackson repeated. "I haven't heard you mention him before. A friend of Adam's?" She put a hand to her chest. "No, no. Zachary is a man. A real man." "What's that supposed to mean?" Sheila sighed. "I think what she means--" They both silenced her with twin glares. "I didn't mean anything by it," Madison told Jackson with a sigh. "I really should get going." "This real man is picking you up?" "Of course he is. If he wasn't real, how could he pick me up?" She forced a small laugh. "He should be here any minute." Jackson stood in her way. Madison crossed her arms over her chest. Now that she'd calmed some, she decided to see what he had

to say for himself. "Why would you stop by the house, if you thought I was out?" "I tried to call before I left. The line was busy." She remembered the phone in the kitchen, the one she'd taken off the hook so nobody could interrupt them tonight. She was struck with an incredible urge to crawl under a rug and die. Jackson's jaw twitched. "Wait right here," he said. He walked over to Sheila and told her he was sorry but it would be better if they had drinks another time. She wished him all the best on his birthday before she left. They both watched Sheila leave. The door clicked shut. Madison didn't know what to say, opting to stay quiet. "Better not keep Zachary waiting," he said. Madison stiffened. She wanted to tell him there was no Zachary, but the words, along with her pride, were stuck in her throat like a cork. She grabbed her purse, went to the door, and glanced back at him over her shoulder. Jackson wasn't looking her way. He didn't try to stop her as she walked out. ~~~ Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. The saying, "Never a dull moment," crossed his mind. The last few months had been incredible, but somehow he had let himself forget how relationships work--or more precisely, how they didn't work. After he loosened his tie, he picked up the gift box from the table and untied the gold ribbon. Zachary. He gritted his teeth at the thought of Madison with another man. Obviously, she hadn't forgotten this marriage was temporary. No strings attached. How in the world had he forgotten? He pulled the lid off the box. He cared way too much about Madison. One kiss in a coffee shop was all it had taken for him to know she was special. He'd never met another woman as charming or as exciting. A glint of gold caught his eye. Inside the box was a wedding band. The card read: To Jackson, you make me feel special. Thank you for taking me up on my offer so many months ago. He stared at the ring for a moment. There was an inscription. He picked up the ring and examined it closer. I love you. Madison. His stomach contracted into a tight ball. He went to the window. Peering out, he could see Madison's silhouette as she leaned against a palm in the driveway, the breeze sweeping her hair from her face. No eyeglasses tonight. The goddess of darkness...waiting for a man who didn't exist. He smiled, and then looked down at the ring and placed it back in the box. She loved him. The words conjured up feelings of wonder and...claustrophobia. Love and marriage equaled commitment, obligations, responsibilities. With mixed emotions, he slid the box into his pocket, along with the hopeless realization that he wasn't ready to give up his freedom. Heading outside, he knew it was time to tell her the truth about Heather. The truth was all he could give her. ~~~ Damn. Madison heard footsteps coming down the driveway. She held perfectly still, praying he wouldn't notice her standing there. Maybe he was just putting his car away for the-"Zachary hasn't arrived, I see."

Grimacing, she pushed herself away from the tree. "I guess I've been stood up." "Looks that way." The moonlight cast its shadowy light, highlighting his bluish-black hair, rugged five o'clock shadow and square, disciplined jaw. For a moment, nobody said a word. Finally, Madison gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm sure this'll be one birthday you'll always want to remember." He gave her a subtle nod. "It's getting cold. Why don't you come inside? If Zachary shows up, I'm sure he'll honk or come to the door." She sighed. "There is no Zachary." "You don't say?" Sarcasm laced his words. "You knew all along?" "Not all along." He took a strand of her hair between his fingers and played with it. "Why is it so difficult for you to trust me, to be honest with me?" Shivers coursed over her. She took his offered hand and let him lead her toward the house. "A lot of reasons, I guess." She watched the hard angles of his jaw as they went along. "I've never known a married man who didn't have a woman waiting in the wings. My dad, my grandfather, my grandfather's father--" "I didn't know my father," Jackson told her, "but from what my mother used to tell me, I'd bet he never strayed." Madison smiled at his certainty. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm always fighting my instincts and my heart. I can't quite shake the idea that my life doesn't have to reflect everything that's happened in my youth, or even in the not-so-distant past." "The past is the past." She nodded. "I'm sorry about tonight. I acted like a fool." "I was the fool. I should have come up to the house first to warn you. But it's over now. The past--" "Is the past." He squeezed her hand. Beneath a full, bright moon, the chirping of crickets serenaded them up the wide expanse of stairs and into the house. They stepped inside, and Madison noticed that the gift box was gone. He'd seen the ring. He knew. Madison swallowed dryly. She gazed into his eyes, breathed in his scent. "Loving someone doesn't have to be an obligation," she said. "Loving someone can be liberating, freeing." Sadness lined his face. Tell me you love me . But she could see he wasn't ready. She felt married in every sense of the word, and yet to Jackson, this was still a business deal. "We need to talk," he said. Judging by the tone of his voice, she thought she knew where this was headed. And Jen was right. She wasn't ready to hear it. "Not tonight," she said in a low voice. "It's your birthday. Let's forget all about Sheila--and Zachary," she teased, "and celebrate your birthday together." She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled her head against his chest. When she looked at him, he pressed his lips to hers, and she closed her eyes and prayed he'd see what she already did--that they were made for each other.

Chapter Thirteen It was Saturday. Another week had come and gone. Jackson sauntered into the kitchen wearing a soft terrycloth robe. He took a seat at the kitchen table and admired Madison's backside as she reached high into the cupboard. "The kids should be here in about an hour," she told him as she poured coffee into two mugs. "Kids?" "Eight of them, maybe nine." "Nine kids?" "I mentioned it over a week ago," she said, handing him his coffee. "You are one tricky lady, you know that?" He set his cup on the table, hooked the elastic band of the boxers she wore with one finger and pulled her snugly between his legs. "You must have told me in the middle of heated passion." She rolled her eyes. "You were in the shower and I said, 'The kids are coming over next week.' And you said, 'Anything you want, baby.'" Jackson raised a skeptical brow. "I said that?" She nodded. "It's coming back to me now, but barely." His stubbled jaw grazed her arm, making her tingle. "If I do recall, you were naked," he told her. He trailed a finger beneath her T-shirt, over her belly, between her breasts. "I don't think that's considered fair play." "You were naked, too," she said. His mouth followed his finger now. His tongue began to play havoc with her body. Her hands rested on his shoulders, toying with the thick curls at his nape. She breathed in his clean, soapy scent and once again tried to forget he wouldn't be hers for very much longer. Although they had yet to have the "talk" Jackson had referred to on his birthday, she knew it wouldn't be long in coming. Nothing could stop the tick of the clock. Their time together would soon be coming to an end and she would move back to her own house. His hands cupped her buttocks, kneading her flesh. "What were we talking about?" he asked in that husky voice of his. "Something about being fair?" She whimpered, her fingers splayed against the back of his head, bringing his mouth impossibly closer to her breast. Even after making love all night, she was hot for him. His mouth changed directions, trailed downward, over her belly button. He paused, peeking up at her. "Kids. We were talking about kids." She moaned. "Forget about the kids. Forget about everything but pleasing me." "Have you forgotten about pleasing me?" he asked. She leaned low and brushed her lips over his hard jaw. "Thirty minutes ago you said it pleased you to please me. So I am thinking of you as well." "Hmmm, why do I get the feeling that the fox has once again out-witted the wolf?" He stood, pulled her against him and then slid her legs around his waist. He headed out the kitchen and toward the stairs. But desire overwhelmed them both. They were frantic and they had no time to get to the bedroom. Instead, they removed each other's clothes as Jackson tried to stay upward. He pulled his lips from hers and said, "To hell with it!" He laid her down right there on the Persian rug centering the entryway. Urgently, they stripped. Madison pulled him on top of her, their breathing ragged as she wrapped her legs around him again, feeling the thick hardness of him against her stomach. She ran her hands down his well-muscled back and

whispered his name, begging for him to take her hard and fast. His mouth rested on her breast and she could feel him against her, rock hard. Breathless, Madison's whimper died on her lips when the doorbell rang. She jumped to her feet in a flash, bumping Jackson's mouth with her leg. "Oh my God, I'm sorry." She looked toward the door. "They're here and they're early!" While he checked his face for any signs of bleeding, she pushed at his large naked body, trying to recover her boxers from beneath him. The doorbell chimed again just as she located her shorts, slipping them on as fast as she could. He laughed. "Jackson, this isn't funny. I'm supposed to be setting an example for these kids." "But--" "Please, hand me my T-shirt." He tossed it to her, but he wasn't moving. "What are you doing? Get dressed!" "I'm enjoying the scenery." He'd seen her naked too many times to count, but there he sat gazing at her as if he had all the time in the world. She shook her head at him as she raised her arms and slipped her shirt over her head. The expression on his face made her smile. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his whiskered jaw. Then she threw him his robe and made her way to the door as she combed her hair with her fingers. "Coming!" she called. After making sure Jackson was dressed, she opened the door. "Heather. Wow, what a surprise." She didn't know what to say. "Jackson, look who's here." She turned to him. He looked confused, definitely frustrated by her presence. It made sense that she would be flustered. Heather was her cousin, after all, and she had just been caught having sex in the middle of the foyer. But nothing ruffled Jackson's feathers. Every time Jackson and Heather were together, though, Madison got the distinct feeling that Jackson and Heather had known each other long before she ever propositioned Jackson. At dinner a few weeks ago, Jackson had acted oddly toward Heather, and then at the wedding when she'd spotted the two of them talking, huddled together as if they were making plans. Tension hung in the air like cobwebs. Heather's tight smile softened as Jackson did his best to pull himself together. "Nice to see you again, Heather." Glancing from Jackson to Madison, Heather took in their ruffled appearance and stepped inside. "I was passing by and thought I would stop by to say hello. Did I interrupt something?" "No, of course not," Madison told her. Spotting the rug all bunched together at the bottom of the stairs, she walked that way and tried to kick the carpet back into place. "As you can see, we sort of got a late start today. And just before you rang the doorbell, I remembered that the kids from CFC were coming today." Madison turned to Jackson and made a face to let him know she needed help here. She was burying herself alive. Jackson came to her side and kissed her forehead. "Why don't you go ahead and get yourself ready for the kids," he told Madison, "while I keep Heather company." That same funny feeling washed over Madison. What was it about these two being together that made her insides knot? She thanked Jackson, apologized to Heather for having to run off, and hurried up the stairs to get ready. ~~~

Jackson waited until he heard the sound of the bedroom door closing before he ushered Heather to the kitchen. "What are you doing here?" He searched through the cupboard for another mug. "I wanted to stop by unexpectedly and see for myself how the two of you were getting along? Quite well, it appears." Jackson raked a hand through his hair. "You should have called." "Why? You haven't changed your mind, have you? The two of you looked as if you'd been making love right there on the--" Heather stifled a gasp by placing a pale hand over her mouth. "You're sleeping with my cousin, aren't you?" "She's my wife," he stated firmly. Heather's eyes narrowed. "We had an agreement." "What Madison and I do behind closed doors is none of your business." "It is my business," Heather said. "You and Madison wouldn't be together if I hadn't asked you to do this one favor for me. I'm glad I came because I can see she's already gotten to you. Tell her it's over, Jackson. Tell her today." "I've been meaning to talk to you." Before he could continue, though, he heard approaching footsteps. Madison stood in the doorway. Her brow creased. "What's going on?" she asked. Heather stiffened. "Nothing, dear. Jackson was assuring me he's treating you well; better than any of us could have ever hoped," she added crisply. Madison looked skeptical. "Something's going on. Did the two of you know each other before Jackson and I met?" Jackson opened his mouth to answer her, but Heather cut in, saying, "It's a small world, dear. It seems your husband knew my dear sweet Walter." "Oh," Madison said, still confused. She looked at Jackson. "You knew Walter?" He nodded, not at all happy with the way things were unraveling. He needed to tell Madison about Heather. He needed to tell her everything. The doorbell rang, making Jackson's head throb. The children from CFC were here. Now wasn't the time to come clean. First thing in the morning, though, he would tell her everything. And then he'd call Heather into his office and give her the news there. Not here. Not now. Heather retrieved her car keys from her purse and followed Madison out of the kitchen and to the front door. "I just remembered an appointment I have downtown," Heather said. "Since you have other plans, it will all work out for the best if I pay you a visit another time. I'll call you in a few days." Madison opened the door, revealing Erin, Katy, Steven, and four other small kids who spent a lot of time at CFC. Seven kids all together. An insipid smile formed on Heather's face as she tiptoed around the children as if they were poisonous snakes ready to strike. Some things never change, Madison thought. She put her arm around Erin and watched Heather get into her car and drive off. Very strange, indeed. But there was no time to worry about her cousin now. Madison and the kids waved goodbye to Sally, a volunteer at CFC, who sat in her car, making sure the kids were safe inside before she drove off. Madison peeked inside the kitchen and saw that Jackson had disappeared. Then she looked around at all the little happy faces and smiled. "Where's Adam?" "He couldn't make up his mind about coming," Katy said. Ten-year-old Steven stood next to Madison. She ruffled his hair. "Well, I guess Adam is going to miss out on a lot of fun, isn't he?" "What are we gonna do today?" Melissa wanted to know. "I've got lots of fun things planned," Madison said excitedly. "Let's see, there's one, two, three...seven of you, and me, that makes eight. We have two teams, perfect!" "Teams for what?" one of the smaller kids asked. Another knock sounded at the door, interrupting their discussion.

When Madison opened it, the smaller kids jumped up and down when they saw Adam standing on the other side. Since Adam disliked being coddled, Madison draped a casual arm about his shoulder instead and led him inside. "Glad you could make it. How's it going?" He shrugged his bony shoulders. "You're looking good." "Who's that?" Katy and Melissa asked in unison when they caught sight of Jackson coming down the stairs, freshly showered and wearing a white cotton T-shirt and jeans. It didn't matter how many times she looked at him, she'd never tire of looking at his broad shoulders and well-defined chest. "This is Jackson," Madison said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt, still bothered by the scene between Jackson and Heather. The smaller kids swarmed around Jackson like bees. Madison didn't try to stop them as she tried to shake off the feeling of doom she'd felt since Heather's unexpected visit. Heather had been showing quite an interest in her life since she met Jackson. And now to find out that Jackson knew Walter...it made her feel uneasy. If Jackson knew Walter, it only served to reason that he would have known Heather, too. And how was it that they had just figured out the "Walter" connection this morning? She couldn't worry about it now. She'd promised these kids a good time. "Ms. Madison," one of the boys said, "since Adam's here now, we need another person to make the teams even again." Madison rubbed her chin. "You're a pretty smart boy. Hmmm." "You wanna play baseball, mister?" he asked Jackson, not willing to wait for her to figure it out. Jackson pointed to his chest. "Me?" Except for Adam, the kids all shouted their approval. Before Jackson could reply, the kids ran off to join two small boys who had wandered up the stairs, giving themselves a tour of the big house. A few of the smaller children giggled at the sight of a naked statue in the living room while the older kids sort of gasped and whispered to one another, noting the size of the rooms. Jackson moved toward Adam and introduced himself. Uninterested, Adam sauntered off. Turning to Madison, Jackson lowered his voice. "I think I'll run by the office for a few hours." She frowned. "I'm not good with this sort of thing. I tend to make kids nervous." Jackson peered downward and saw a six-year-old kid with scraggly red hair tugging at his pants. Jackson bent forward. "What is it, buddy?" "My name's Tommy." "What's on your mind, Tommy?" "My friend, Joey, has a dad. And guess what?" "What?" The kid yanked on Jackson's belt loop until Jackson got the picture and kneeled down lower until he and the child were face to face. "His dad lets him ride on his back sometimes," the boy informed Jackson. "No kidding?" Tommy nodded, his eyes widening. "How about your dad?" Jackson asked. "I bet he's given you a piggy-back ride before." "I don't think so." "Why not?" "He's in Heaven with Mom. But I don't think he gave me one ever. I live with Aunt Lisa and her kids

and their dad's in jail." "So," Jackson said, his brow furrowed, "I guess he didn't give you a piggy-back ride either, huh?" "Nope." Jackson glanced at Madison, but she had already walked away to check on the rest of the kids. Kneeling lower, if that were possible, Jackson swiveled around and said, "Hop on, buddy. Let's go for a ride." ~~~ Right after Tommy punted the ball, Jackson took off, running toward home base as fast as he could. He slid through the dirt, dust flying into his mouth and eyes as his foot neared the plate. Then Erin tagged him and little Tommy yelled, "Out!" Jackson came to his feet and brushed himself off. "You're a natural, Erin." "Thanks," she said. "You're not so bad yourself." A smile tugged at the corners of Jackson's mouth. So far he'd played soccer, football, and now baseball. The funny thing was he was actually enjoying himself. These kids were great, every single one of them. For the first time since meeting Madison, he could see exactly why she'd marry a stranger to help them out. They loved her as much as she loved them. Madison waved at him from the pool area. He waved back. She was one of a kind. Not once had he seen a smidgeon of the greedy, selfish woman Heather had warned him about. He felt foolish for taking so long to see the truth. He knew she was beautiful and sweet. He knew how she felt about him, too. But he still had a difficult time allowing himself to add it all together and see the reality of what was staring back at him. Jamie had been right all along. Heather was not being honest. Either she lied to him about not needing the money or she was just mean-spirited--out to hurt Madison for no reason other than greed. He planned to get to the bottom of it first chance he got. Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson saw Adam sitting quietly beneath the shade of an elm, where he'd been for most of the day. The boy looked away when he caught Jackson looking his way. Strolling over to where Adam sat, Jackson said, "How about shooting a few baskets?" "For money?" Adam asked, chewing on a blade of grass. "No, for fun." "I'm not any good at basketball," Adam muttered. "Neither am I." With a snort, Adam pushed himself from the ground and followed Jackson to the side yard. Jackson grabbed a few balls from a wooden chest outside and threw one to him. After they both made a few shots and missed, Jackson asked, "Have you known Madison long?" Adam stopped bouncing the ball and spun it around in his hands instead. "She started coming around the center about five years ago, I guess. How about you? Known her long?" "Not nearly as long as you." "I was right, wasn't I?" "About what?" "She married you because of us, didn't she? To get her grandfather's inheritance so that she could keep the center from going under?" Jackson didn't want to lie, so he didn't say anything. "I knew it. Erin's convinced you two are in love, but I knew it was a crap load of shit." "I don't think your mother would want you talking like that." "She's buried right smack in the middle of the Riverside Cemetery. I really don't think she'd care one way or another."

"I'm sorry." "Don't be. It's a nice cemetery." Jackson ignored the hint of sarcasm in the boy's voice and said, "Yeah, it is. My mom's buried there, too." "No kidding? Maybe they're friends." Jackson's head shot up. He looked Adam square in the eye, thinking he'd see cynicism there. Instead, he saw Adam crack a smile for the first time since he'd met the kid. "Yeah, maybe they are," Jackson agreed. They both smiled. "Okay," Jackson said, "that's enough practice shooting. Now we play for cold hard cash." "Cool."

Chapter Fourteen Madison held her phone to her ear and said, "Only three more days until the three months are up, Jen. What am I going to do? Ever since the kids were here, Jackson has been acting strange and he's working late again." "You need to ask him what's going on. See where the two of you stand." "What am I supposed to say? Remind him that our three months are up and ask him if he wants to make a new deal?" "That might just work!" Madison rolled her eyes. "I've got to get to work." "Call me as soon as you talk to Jackson. And don't worry. It will all work out." "Thanks, Jen. I'll call you later." Madison hit the off button on her phone. Today was the day. It was time to talk to Jackson. She loved him, and he loved her. And darn if she wouldn't get him to admit it. On the other hand, if he told her he couldn't handle being married--then such was life. She'd just have to deal with it. She grabbed her purse and headed for work where she planned to head straight to Jackson's office to have a talk with him. Three hours later, Madison sat at her desk, drumming her fingers against the smooth oak, waiting for Jackson's administrative assistant to call her and let her know when he returned from a meeting. "Hey, what's the frown about?" Jamie asked as he brought her more work. Madison forced a smile. "Better?" "Much." Jamie handed her a file. "Would you mind taking this to that grouchy husband of yours when you get a chance? For some reason he's friendlier to pretty women than he is to his own brother." "Is that right?" "Well," he amended, "only to pretty women he's married to, that is." "Give it up, Jamie. You've already blown his cover." She waved the file at him. "How important is this? I don't think Jackson's back yet." Jamie glanced at his watch. "He should be back by now. We have a meeting with Mr. Bingham in less than twenty minutes." "Another one?" "Afraid so. And I have a feeling Bingham expects you and Jackson to give him your first born." Madison laughed. "I'll see if he's back." "If not, just leave the file on his desk if you don't mind." The thought of giving birth to Jackson's baby made her insides flitter. It was something she'd thought a lot about lately. Jackson had been so good with the kids when they were at the house. He'd make a great father. As she approached his office, she noticed the door was ajar. His assistant was gone--more than likely left for lunch before Jackson returned. Madison was about to knock when the sound of Heather's voice stopped her. "I need those annulment papers signed today, Jackson." Annulment papers? The file nearly slipped from her hands. Madison couldn't believe what she was hearing. "If I don't get the papers to Mr. Razzano by tomorrow morning," she heard Heather say, "Madison's going to get my inheritance."

Madison kept hoping, praying that Jackson would laugh Heather right out of his office. But she didn't hear him say a word in response. Jackson had lied to her. For three long months, she'd been living a lie...a double lie. Knowing where they stood as temporary man and wife was one thing, but realizing Jackson had purposely set her up was quite another. Handsome, charming, debonair--Jackson Lang in a nutshell. And he knew it. He had enough confidence to know she would pick him out of a room full of men. Conceited, arrogant, egotistical. That's what he was...and yet she'd given herself to him, openly and honestly. She'd given him everything. And all the while he knew he wasn't going to be there for the entire three months. What took him so long? Why hadn't he served her the annulment papers weeks ago? She still wouldn't have had enough time to find someone else, and Heather would have gotten what she wanted. Did he just want to string her along for a few more days, a few more hours? The worst part was that it all made so much sense: all the shared whispers between Heather and Jackson since she'd met him. He'd acted so stiff and peculiar whenever Heather was around. Madison shook her head. It was all right there in front of her, but she'd been too "in love" to see the light. Give me a break. Get a life, Madison. How many times was she going to be jilted and betrayed before she woke up and smelled the roses? What a fool she was. She put a trembling hand to her temple. Heather had hired Jackson to marry her and then dump her before the required three months were up. It was too horrible to comprehend. The desire to see Jackson's face struck her, prompting her to peek through the partially open door. Jackson's arms were clasped in front of him on his desk. She had a view of his profile. He had a pained look on his face, but then he turned to peer out the window behind him. Was he wondering how and when he was going to tell his naive little bride that she'd been duped? Madison felt suddenly calm. Disappointment caused her eyes to become as dry as the summer grass. With every beat of her heart, anger rose up to replace any misplaced sadness. The idea that Jackson had known exactly who she was before she and Jen had ever approached him was incomprehensible. At least she had been honest with him. Not only had he known who she was--the arrogant, heartless man knew she was going to march across the bar that night and ask him to marry her. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She went back to her desk to find her phone ringing. She sat down and began gathering her things with one hand while she picked up the phone with the other. The person on the other end was talking fast. Adam had run away. He'd been missing for twenty-four hours. Hastily, she gathered her things. She heard footsteps and looked up to see Jamie approaching her desk. "What's wrong?" He looked genuinely concerned. She didn't dare allow herself to entertain the idea that Jamie knew what was going on between his brother and Heather. "I've got to go, Jamie. One of the kids from CFC has run away. Adam is only fourteen. He needs me." "You look pale--are you all right? Let me drive you." Fumbling inside her purse for her keys, she handed them to Jamie. "Here, these are your brother's. I had car trouble this morning. Thanks for the offer, but it's not necessary. Jen's picking me up." ~~~ "What do you mean she walked out of here and never came back?" Jackson's stomach lurched. Jamie straightened his silk tie. "She mentioned something about a missing kid and took off. What was I supposed to do, tie her to a chair?"

Jackson's hands curled into tight fists. "Did she say anything else?" Jamie reached inside his pants pocket and handed Jackson his keys. "She gave me these before she left. Said she was getting a ride with Jen." "This doesn't make sense." Jamie thought for a moment before he said, "I gave her a file earlier today and asked her to take it to you. She came back looking deathly pale, but I assumed it was the phone call about Adam that caused the change in her. Did you get the file she brought you?" With a sense of impending doom, Jackson gritted his teeth. "She must have overheard Heather talking about the annulment papers." Had Madison left him for good? He felt certain she had. He could sense it, like a dog sensed a change in the weather. "I thought you were going to tell her about your absurd deal with Heather weeks ago?" Taking a seat behind Madison's desk, Jackson picked up the phone and called home. No answer. He leaned back, shut his eyes. "The time was never right." "Did you at least tell her how you felt about her?" "No." Jamie made an irritating tsking sound. Then he said, "Maybe she's just not picking up the phone." "I'll go by the house and check." Jackson stood. "Did she happen to say which kid was missing?" Jamie tried to remember. "Was it Adam?" Jamie snapped his fingers. "That's the one." ~~~ Her room was empty, everything in its place. Jackson went to his bedroom next, the room they had shared for the past two months. Most of her things were gone. Her makeup bag, hair dryer...the only thing remaining was her lingering scent. He slid open the closet door. Her clothes were gone, too. "Damn!" Making his way from one room to another, he pushed the buttons on his cell phone. Still no answer at her house. Her broken-down VW was gone. He walked into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools. He tried to think. An irritating tic started in his jaw. He should have told her about Heather. Damn! He should have told her a lot of things. The thought of begging her to come back to him made his head throb. His life had been perfect before he'd met her, hadn't it? No kids running around, all that peaceful quiet. The phone rang. He snatched up the receiver. "Hello?" "It's me, Jamie. Is she there?" "No." "Not to sound coldhearted or anything, but we can't blow this deal now. I wanted to let you know that somehow Archer has enticed Bingham to look at his offer. They met this morning. It seems Bingham is weighing his options. We've got to sweeten the deal." "Archer gave Bingham a black eye, for God's sake! Why would he even consider it?" "I talked to Bingham's wife," Jamie continued. "Archer has been filling their heads with stories about you, telling them you're not reliable--that you can't be trusted. He told them how you'd left his sister in a jam and how you pulled the Wilson contract right out from under him." "Archer's sister and I went on one date! And only because Archer harassed me until I agreed. As for the Wilson deal, Archer screwed that up all by himself!" "I told Mrs. Bingham everything. Her hands are tied. It's up to us to convince Mr. Bingham now." "Meet me in my office in twenty minutes," Jackson ground out.

"Oh, and one more thing," Jamie said. "What's that?" "An old friend of mine, Jonathan Blake, was just here. Remember him from my old college days? Funny thing was, he mentioned seeing Heather in Las Vegas the other night. Said she lost thousands of dollars at poker in one sitting. What's that about?" "Must have been someone else. I'll see you in the office." Jackson hung up the phone, went to the refrigerator, and grabbed a bottle of water. An unopened jar of mayonnaise caught his eye. For a moment, he forgot all about Bingham. Madison's contagious laughter would be something he'd miss. The way she'd swing her hips and bat her eyes to catch his attention. It worked every time. His smile disappeared at the thought of never seeing her again. Why Madison? What was it about her that made him want something more? And yet, he thought sourly, if she was going to walk away without talking to him, what would be the use of going after her? Married people needed to work out their problems, not run away from them. But they weren't really married, were they? He slammed the refrigerator door shut. And he hadn't exactly been up front with her. Their sham of a marriage was based on deceit. Stepping outside, he kicked a small rubber ball that one of the kids had left by the door. A small pair of shoes caught his attention. He picked the shoes up and examined them. Little girl shoes, faded pink, with a missing bow. Hard to believe there were feet small enough to fit in them. He set the shoes on the ground. Working the kinks out of the back of his neck, he reminded himself of how much he enjoyed living alone--how he thrived on peace and quiet. ~~~ "Cheer up," Madison said to the kids huddled around the table in her cramped living room. "The police are doing all they can." But the truth was, she didn't feel as brave as she sounded. It was Saturday. Adam had spent three nights outside alone all by himself. Where did he go? With no breeze to speak of and no air conditioning, the August heat was unbearable. Using a wet towel, Madison wiped the perspiration from her neck as she made her way to the kitchen to watch Jen frost the cake. "Where could Adam be?" Madison asked. Jen set the knife down. "You said he's run away before. Where did he go last time?" "I don't know. Sally and I found him walking towards home before nightfall on the very same day we realized he was missing." "You've been to all of his favorite spots: the arcades, Griffith Park, his best friend's house. You've called every teacher and adult he's ever come in contact with. Let's wait until the police call with an update. Then we'll figure out what to do next." Madison went to the window and peered out onto the street. "Sure is a crummy way to celebrate your birthday," Jen said. "At least I'm surrounded by all the people I love best." "Except for Adam...and Jackson," Jen reminded her. "Why don't you give Jackson a call?" Madison paused for a moment, listening to Erin reprimand Tommy for breaking all the crayons in half. "We had something good together, Jen, really good. But it's over. He's not ready to commit himself emotionally to me right now. I'm not sure if he'll ever be ready." "You said he loved you, though." "I was wrong." Why couldn't she have been right? Being held in his arms felt right; his kisses felt right. If only the pangs in her belly would go away. Maybe then she could get a good night's sleep and

things could get back to normal. She was tired of seeing Jackson's face in her dreams. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? "I can't believe Jackson would have anything to do with Heather. She's so sneaky, such a snake." "I don't know what to believe any more, Jen. Obviously Jackson wanted to make Heather happy." "Donald Trump couldn't make Heather happy!" Jen spouted. "If Jackson has the marriage annulled, I'm going to go right over there and knock him senseless. I didn't take all those karate lessons for nothing." Madison cracked a smile. "Don't you dare." Jen peeked into the family room. "Look. They're making presents for you." At the sound of the doorbell, their gazes locked. Madison walked briskly to the front door, praying she'd see Adam on the other side. ~~~ Jackson sat at his desk and rubbed his stubbled chin as he stared at the Bingham contract in front of him. For three days and two nights he'd been living in his office, sleeping on the couch and for the most part, sitting in this very spot, hovered over a bunch of papers and files on his desk. His back ached. Hell, every part of his body felt as if he'd been run over by a truck. What was he doing here? He'd been staring at the same damn papers for too long. He didn't even know what he was reading, for God's sake. The phone rang--it had been ringing for hours, maybe days. He ignored it. Today was August twentieth. He ripped the page off of his calendar, crumpled the piece of paper in his palm, and tossed it into the wastebasket. Today was Madison's birthday; his wife's birthday. He opened his desk drawer, shuffled around until he found what he was searching for--the annulment papers Heather had wanted him to sign. Looking heavenward he said in a weary voice, "Walter, what am I supposed to do now?" With little sleep, his brain felt as if it were made of scrambled, twisted wires. He couldn't read the words in front of him, but he could see Madison's face as clear as day. What was she doing? What was she thinking? He'd been wrong about her from the start. No, he amended, he'd been right about her. That was the problem. He knew the moment he laid eyes on her that she wasn't the person Heather had made her out to be. But he hadn't allowed himself to believe it. They'd laughed together, lived together, made love together, and yet he'd let her walk away. How many men out there in the world had met a woman who made them feel magical and alive, only to let her walk away because of some asinine fear of commitment? Only a fool would do such a thing. Was he a fool? As he pushed the papers aside, a ticket stub for the horse races caught his eye. He'd found it on his desk the day Heather had come to see him about filing the annulment papers. Examining the ticket, he wasn't even sure why he'd kept the stub instead of throwing it away. He crumpled the ticket and tossed it in the garbage. Determined to get something accomplished, he tried once again to concentrate on the work in front of him, but the ticket he'd just thrown away called out to him. He retrieved the stub from the basket and stared at it for a moment longer, trying to figure out why it would hold his attention. Las Vegas. Horse races. Heather. His heart thumped against his ribs as he thumbed through his Rolodex. Harry Connors, financial adviser. He picked up the phone and dialed Harry's number. Walter had worked with the man for years. Harry and Walter had been good friends, old Air Force buddies. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the box Madison had given him. The one with the ring in it. His birthday gift. Even before she'd given him the ring, he'd known she loved him. She wore her emotions on her sleeves.

A deep voice said, "hello." "Harry Connors, is that you? This is Jackson Lang." "Jackson, my boy. Mary and I were just talking about you and your brother the other day. How's everything going?" "Fine, Harry. I hope this isn't a bad time, but something's been bothering me and I thought maybe you could clear things up." Jackson held the ring to the light. I love you. He closed his eyes for a moment. "What is it?" Harry asked. "Heather Garrett mentioned a couple of months ago that you were still handling Walter's accounts." "I don't know what that woman is up to now, Jackson, but she cleaned out those accounts less than a week after burying Walter." "What?" Jackson's insides churned. "Why would she do that?" "You don't know?" A knot formed in his gut. "Know what, Harry?" "She's had a gambling problem for years. Walter didn't want anyone to know. He got her help, and for the most part, it appeared Walter had her addiction under control for a while...at least while he was alive. After he died, though, Heather returned to her old ways, heading to the races or Vegas every chance she gets. She cleaned out the accounts. There's nothing left." Jackson took a deep breath. Walter, why didn't you tell me ? "Thanks, Harry. That answers my question." After hanging up the phone, Jackson pushed the Bingham contract aside. He let out a low growl and then Jamie entered his office with Peter Bingham at his side. They might as well have been invisible. "Good news," Jamie said as he ushered their prospective client toward one of the chairs in front of Jackson's desk. "Mr. Bingham has made a decision." Jackson pinched at the tension building between his eyes. Heather had lied to him from the very beginning. She was, in fact, the conniving, selfish woman she'd tried to make Madison out to be. She'd used Walter, a man he adored, to get what she wanted. Unforgiveable. Focusing his attention on his brother and Mr. Bingham was impossible. Jackson realized he didn't care about the damn contract. The thought made him want to laugh out loud. He didn't care about anything but the woman he kept picturing in his mind. Madison in her overalls at the coffee shop, laying down the law. Madison on their wedding day, asking for a dance. Madison wearing a skimpy bathing suit, trying to seduce him. Madison's warm body wrapped in his arms at night. If he tried hard enough, he was pretty sure he could feel her soft lips on his. She always made him feel loved. She made him feel as if he were the only person on earth who could make her happy. She made him feel special. The realization that he wanted to spend his life with Madison was not the suffocating sensation he thought he would feel. She loved him with all of her heart--just as she loved those kids. All she had wanted was to be loved back. It hit him then, as if Dorothy's house came down from the sky and landed smack on his head. He loved his wife. He didn't want to live without her. He prayed it wasn't too late. Jamie groaned. "Did you hear a word I just said?" "That's terrific," Jackson replied. He stood, giving Jamie a wide grin as he shuffled through mounds of paperwork, letting documents and pencils scatter to the ground in the process. Jamie eyed him worriedly. "Ah-ha! There you are!" Jackson held up his prize for all to see. "So glad you could find your keys, Jackson." Jamie looked at Mr. Bingham and squirmed

uncomfortably in his seat. "As I was saying," Jamie went on, "I explained everything to Mr. Bingham, told him how we've been working on the deal of a lifetime--" Jackson headed for the door. "You're not leaving, are you?" Jamie asked. Holding onto the door, Jackson said, "I've got to." "Life and death I suppose?" Jamie muttered. That's it. Jackson headed back toward his brother so fast Jamie ducked, as if he thought his brother might slug him. Jackson laughed and gave Jamie a big, brotherly hug instead. "You're brilliant, little brother. Absolutely brilliant!" "Yeah, whatever you say," Jamie replied, smoothing out his new Armani suit. "Sorry, Mr. Bingham," Jackson said to the older man, "but it's my wife's birthday today and there's something I have to do before it's too late." Mr. Bingham appeared speechless, but nodded nonetheless. Jamie glanced at his watch. "It's too early. The shops aren't even open yet." But Jackson didn't hear a word as he ran down the hallway. ~~~ Madison opened the door, disappointed to see Mr. Razzano and Heather standing on the other side. "Hello," she said stiffly, "I didn't realize you two were such good friends." Mr. Razzano's bald head glistened with sweat. Heather nudged past him, stepping inside. "Well, isn't this quaint. Feeding the homeless again, I see." Madison lowered her voice to a low growl and said, "These kids have never done anything to you, Heather. Another snide remark and I'll have to ask you to leave." Patting her perfectly coiffed hair into place, Heather chose to keep her mouth shut for the moment. "Mrs. Lang," Mr. Razzano began. "Heather--I mean, Ms. Garrett, came to my office the other day to tell me your marriage to Jackson was the result of an offer you made him in a bar. An offer that was to include the exchanging of money after you received your inheritance. And since it has been brought to my attention that you have moved out of Mr. Lang's home, I had no choice but to come here today and see for myself what exactly is going on." Madison glanced over her shoulder. Jen and the kids had gathered around. They had on their party hats and behind them on the coffee table was a lopsided cake surrounded by gifts made out of paper and love. She smiled, letting Jen and the kids know everything was going to be all right. They had one another. She'd find a way to help them. "Mr. Razzano," Madison said, "the truth is--" "--is that my wife thinks I forgot her birthday," Jackson cut in, taking everyone by surprise as he headed up the path leading to the front door. Jackson ushered Mr. Razzano into the house, so he could stand in the doorway and talk to all of them at once. "My wife," Jackson went on, "is sensitive about birthdays and special occasions. As I've never been married before, I had no idea women could be so hardheaded, so stubborn." Madison crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to finish. "As you can see for yourself, she came back here to teach me a lesson." Madison opened her mouth to disagree, but Jackson cut her off. "My wife thinks I don't understand. She believes I work too many hours. She thinks I don't love her." Jackson scratched his whiskered chin. "The honest-to-God truth, Mr. Razzano, is that I can't live without her." A layer of skepticism was quickly replaced with definite interest as Madison listened more intently to the rest of what Jackson had to say.

"Guess what, darling?" he said loud enough to be heard over the small crowd standing behind her. "I love you." Heather moaned. "And I didn't forget about your birthday. In fact, I brought you a present." His large frame blocked the entire doorway. He moved out of the way to make room for Adam. "Adam!" Erin shouted, crying as she ran to hug him. The smaller kids followed suit, swarming around the gangly teenager, happy and relieved to see that their friend, the boy they considered to be an older brother, was okay. A tear slid down Madison's face as she went to Adam and took him in her arms, holding him close. He smelled like dirt and sweat and that special Adam scent that was his alone. She'd begun to think the worst, but seeing him now, touching him, brought more than joy to her heart. Her gaze lifted, filled with gratitude as she peered into Jackson's eyes. Thank you, she mouthed as the other kids dragged Adam away to get the scoop on his latest adventures. Jen already had Mr. Razzano engaged in a conversation about the sun's damaging rays and how he should put sunscreen on the top of his head. Smiling, Madison noticed an unfamiliar sparkle in Jackson's eyes as he entered the house and moved toward her. "Where was Adam?" she asked, not ready to know whether his talk of love was real or just another show. "At the Riverside Cemetery having a talk with his mother. I guess he even stopped by to say hello to Eloise Lang." "Your mother?" He nodded. "I'll tell you about it later." Jackson stepped in front of Heather before she could escape unnoticed. "Heather," he said. "I had a talk with Harry Connors today, and he just called me again a few minutes before I arrived here. He wants to meet both of us in his office first thing Monday morning." "Oh, I can't," Heather said. "I'll be--" Jackson's dangerous glare stopped Heather from jabbering on. With a frustrated groan, she nodded her agreement and then walked out the door, leaving them alone, at least for the moment. Madison peered into his eyes. "What's going on?" The gold band on his left hand caught her eye. What was he up to? "We don't have to continue this charade any longer," she told him. "The kids and I will figure out a way to stay together. We've already made plans for bake sales and Katy makes fabulous jewelry. The kids are going to help her design a website so she can sell her hand-crafted pieces. All proceeds will go directly to CFC." Fretful lines etched his forehead. "Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" "Which part?" she asked. "The part when I said 'I love you.'" "Oh, that." She nodded her head. "I heard it. I figured it was for Mr. Razzano's benefit." Gazing into her eyes, Jackson swept a strand of hair out of her face and said, "I love you, Madison. You've made me feel whole again, maybe for the first time in my life. Poor ol' Cupid must have used up his whole bag of arrows trying to make me see it. Today, though, one of his blasted darts struck me right here." He laid a hand over his heart. "I can't live without you, Madison. I need you." He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and said, "I have a lot of explaining to do and someday I hope you'll forgive me for not believing in you and especially for not being truthful." "Jackson," she said. "Do you know what you're saying?" He nodded. "What about commitment?" she asked. "That awful word that causes you to break into a sweat? I don't

want to be thought of as a burden. I deserve better. I want to be loved and cherished...forever." "I'll always love you. Every day of the rest of my life. And longer." "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the paper in his hand, needing a moment to unravel her thoughts. She'd spent the last three days convincing herself that she and Jackson weren't meant to be together. And now here he was telling her he would cherish her for the rest of her life. "This is the deed to CFC," Jackson said, dangling the paper in front of her. "I have an offer you can't possibly refuse." "You do, do you?" She'd never seen him look so nervous, so tired, so desperate. "Come home and be my wife forever," he said. It seemed all her prayers had been answered. But still...something was missing. "That's it?" she asked. "That's it. Although my rules are a little different than yours," he said, "but we'll have to talk about that later when we're alone." "What about children?" "As many children as you want." Her eyes widened. "Okay," he amended, "no more than six." Extending a hand, she gave him a dazzling smile. "You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Lang." Jackson glanced at Adam and smiled when the boy gave him the thumbs up. Instead of taking Madison's hand, he pulled her close and sealed the deal with a kiss. ~~~

Thanks for reading An Offer He Can't Refuse! I hope you enjoyed it. * This book is lendable. Feel free to share it with a friend. * Reviews help other readers find good books. I appreciate all reviews! * An Offer He Can't Refuse was the very first contemporary romance I wrote after writing two time travel romances. The story has been modernized in that I had to replace regular phones with cell phones, etc. If you want to know when my next book comes out, please sign up for my mailing list at http://www.theresaragan.com/. Other books written by Theresa Ragan are: * Having My Baby * Taming Mad Max * Finding Kate Huntley * A Knight in Central Park * Return of the Rose * Here Comes the Bride (coming soon) * The Billionaires' Christmas Club (short story written with D.D. Scott) Thrillers written by Theresa Ragan under the name TR Ragan are: * Abducted (Book #1 in the Lizzy Gardner Series) * Dead Weight (Book #2 in the Lizzy Gardner Series) * A Dark Mind (Book #3 in the Lizzy Gardner Series - coming June 2013)

For a sneak preview of a few of these titles, please turn the page.

Having My Baby They watched each other for a moment, sizing one another up before an irritating beep brought them back to the moment at hand. Jill squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into the mattress. Moving to the side of the hospital bed where Chelsey had been, Derrick reached over the side rail and took her hand in his. "It's okay," he said, although he wasn't feeling okay, and she certainly didn't look okay. It hadn't been much over five minutes since her friends left. What the hell was going on? With her eyes clamped shut and her teeth gritted, the veins in her neck and forehead looked ready to burst. His heart rate accelerated as he tried to think of something to say to comfort her and take her mind off of the pain. "Maybe we should do that breathing thing," he said. She didn't answer him, but her fingers squeezed tight about his hand, and damn, she had one powerful grip. The beeper on the monitor wouldn't stop beeping. That worried him. Jill brought her knees to her chest, blankets and all. He leaned closer and rubbed her shoulder. "Is that helping?" Her eyes shot open, startling him. He wouldn't have been surprised if she suddenly turned her head full circle and spit out pea soup. Instead, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt along with a little skin and said, "Get your baby out of me!" He might have laughed if he wasn't bleeding and in pain and if she wasn't pinning him with the scariest look he'd ever seen in his life, which was saying a lot considering his mom had been the queen of scary faces back in her day. In the blink of an eye, Jill Garrison had transformed from a sweet young lady into a woman possessed by the devil. "If you don't do something," she said, "I'm going to scream." "I think we should breathe instead." "I think you should--" Her face turned scarlet, and she scrunched her nose as if she was chewing on sourballs. And then she did exactly what she said she was going to do. She screamed, an ear-piercing sound that set his teeth on edge and made his brain hurt. Where the hell was everybody? ~~~

Finding Kate Huntley Another crash sounded. Kate stepped back and then threw her weight into the door. Shit that hurt! She yanked the pistol from her hip pocket and fired two shots at the lock. The door swung open and she stepped inside, weapon drawn, eyes wide. Jack stood in front of the open window; his face made up of hard lines and suppressed fury as he held onto a pair of ankles, dangling the Haitian man with the ponytail out the window. Jack's chest rose and fell with each breath. "What took you so long?" Ignoring him, she took inventory of the broken chair, tilted bed, and jagged pieces of glass scattered across the wood floor. "Nice." "Yeah, I thought the place could use a little redecorating." She smiled. The thug hanging out the window grunted, his curses muffled by the crowds shouting to him from two stories below. "So," Kate said, "what's the plan?" Jack looked over his shoulder at her and lifted a handsome brow. "It was the kiss, wasn't it?" "I don't know what you're talking about." That was a lie. Even now, she wanted him to let the man drop two stories, take her in his arms and kiss her again, long and deep, hard and soft all at once. "I knew you'd miss me," he said. "I just didn't know how much." "Don't get too excited. I followed you because I've decided it's time I went back to the States. I have some unfinished business to take care of." "I don't know if I like the sound of that." She shrugged. Grimacing, he struggled to keep his grip. "I talked to Harrison," Jack said through gritted teeth. "He's arranging for a private plane to pick us up in thirty minutes." Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. "Let me take care of Charlie here and then we'll go." "Let me help," Kate said. She moved to his side and took hold of the man's legs. "I've got him." As soon as Jack loosened his hold, she let go. Charlie dropped two stories to the ground. Somebody screamed. A loud crash followed. "Okay," she said, dusting off her hands. "Time to go." Jack looked out the window. "I wanted to question the guy." She lifted her shoulders. "There's no time." The severe expression on his face expressed his exasperation with her. He grabbed a vinyl backpack from the floor and began stuffing his belongings inside. "You really are something, you know that?" "So I've been told." ~~~

Taming Mad Max Excerpt "Nice to meet you, Max," she said without sincerity. "I should be going now. If you'd like, I could give you a couple of names of nutritionists who might be able to help you." Max waggled a finger at her. "You don't like athletes. I can see it in your eyes." She let out a small feminine laugh that might have been cute under different circumstances. "You caught me, Mr. Dutton. You're right. It's pro football players I have a problem with. They're needy and, you know, sort of full of themselves. It would never work." The door opened and promptly clicked shut. The woman was gone. Despite the warning bells going off in his head, Max found himself hurrying out the door after her. Sure, she set his teeth on edge, but he hated the idea of somebody not liking him, especially for no reason. He was charming. Women of all sizes, shapes, and ages fell at his feet on a daily basis. Besides, something wasn't right. The woman acted as if they had met before. "Hey!" he called out, "I didn't catch your name." She shot a quick look over her shoulder, but didn't slow her pace one iota. He had to jog down the hallway to catch up to her and take long unruly strides to stay at her side. "We've met before, haven't we?" She laughed...that is, if air being blown out the nostrils counted as an expression of amusement. "I don't have time for this," she explained. "Dr. Stone is a well-respected doctor. I'm sure he'll find someone who can help you." "I don't want just anyone. I want you." Bingo! He'd hit a soft spot, or at least a spot, because she stopped in her tracks. He did too, and then wondered if he'd really just told her he wanted her. Judging by the sour look on her face, he'd done exactly that. "We did meet before," she said matter-of-factly. "Years ago." "I knew it!" She stiffened. "You were naked." Max tried not to look surprised, although he found himself scratching his head. Now they were getting somewhere. He flashed a roguish smile that rarely--make that never--failed him and asked, "Were you naked too?" She shoved her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat and stood as stiff and straight as the Washington Monument. Intense green eyes met his. For a millisecond, she looked sort of sad and maybe regretful. "Yes...yes I was." Max found himself wishing he hadn't followed her out into the hall after all. How often did a guy find himself in a situation like this? And how the hell did that same guy get himself out of such an awkward situation in one piece? He was certain his buddies would find his retelling of the story amusing. He had no idea when he'd met the woman standing before him. "I feel like an idiot," he admitted. "I'm glad." He smiled. "That was your cue to assure me I wasn't an idiot...that it's understandable I might forget a face, albeit a pretty face like yours, out of the hundreds I run across." "Oh, I see. Do you have a script for me, Max?" A knot formed in his throat. "You're right. That was uncalled for. I'm sorry. I'm generally charming and witty." "Is that right?" Shoot me now. Max couldn't help but hope she would run off again. But that would be too easy, and

they both knew it. She was obviously one of those intelligent sorts, and she knew she had him by the balls. "Yeah," he said, "so I've been told. Can I take you to lunch?" She crossed her arms and shook her head for good measure. "Dinner? Restaurant of your choice?" "No. Never." The woman hardly blinked. Didn't even waver. She was tough as nails, and damn if he wasn't completely turned on. "Can you at least tell me your name?" "Kari," she said through tight lips. Kari...Kari...the name didn't ring a bell...or did it? She patted his arm as if he were a small child in need of sympathy. "Don't worry about it, Max. It's completely understandable you would forget the name of a woman you slept with considering there must be zillions of faces and naked bodies swirling within that head of yours. All those nameless faces squished together like tiny gnats. Sheesh, I can't imagine the difficulty you must have sorting it all out." She exhaled. "Believe me when I tell you you're not the biggest jerk in Los Angeles. You're small, very, very small, if you get my meaning." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I do believe I get your meaning." "Well, good. I must admit it has been delightful talking to you." She tapped a short unpolished nail against his chest. "I haven't felt this good in years. Thank you, Max. Thank you very much." "My pleasure," he found himself saying as he stood there and watched her turn and sashay down the hall until her white coat disappeared through revolving doors.

Contents Title page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Having My Baby Finding Kate Huntley Taming Mad Max Excerpt