A Convenient Texas Wedding Page 6

  “No. She always encouraged me to do whatever felt right. To be impulsive if that suited me. To live life in whatever manner made me happy.” And for now, he wished that he could be the playboy he’d always been and seduce the hell out of Allison before their marriage ended. But he didn’t have the right to prey on her innocence. Rich had already done enough damage in that regard, and Rand didn’t want to fall into the same category as that conniving bastard.

  “Your grandmother must be an open-minded woman.”

  “For not trying to rein me in? She shook things up in her day, too. She had her one and only child, my mother, out of wedlock. Things like that were scandalous back then, especially in her high-society world. But it was her choice to be a single parent. She didn’t even tell the father about the baby.”

  Allison’s eyes widened. “Really? How come?”

  “He wasn’t someone she was going to stay with, so she didn’t think it was necessary for him to know. She never talked about him to anyone, either. She kept his identity hidden.” Rand cleared his throat. “She met him on a trip to Europe, so no one from her inner circle saw them together. But in his country, he was really famous. Everyone knew who he was there.”

  Allison’s all-too-curious gaze locked on to his, right before she asked, “Do you know who he is?”

  “Yes.” Rand’s grandfather was one of the most notorious Spanish matadors who’d ever lived. “She told me when I was heading off to college. She told Trey when he was an adult, too. But we promised her that we would keep it between us.”

  “I understand respecting your grandmother’s privacy.” She frowned, tiny lines forming between her eyebrows. “But I hope he didn’t take advantage of her. I hope that isn’t the reason she didn’t stay with him or tell him about the baby.”

  He sensed that Allison was thinking about Rich and all of the women he’d used. “It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t a bad person. But he wasn’t the settle-down type, either.”

  “What happened to him? Is he still around?”

  “No. He died a long time ago, so it’s water under the bridge, anyway.” Nonetheless, Rand felt a kinship toward his grandfather because his grandmother had told him how similar their personalities were. They even looked remarkably alike. He changed the subject, moving on to a more pressing issue. “I should head out to see my brother before he wonders what’s taking me so long. I wish it wasn’t going to be so difficult, though.”

  She moved away from the window. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Thanks, but I need to do this alone.” To face whatever Trey threw at him, without subjecting Allison to it.

  * * *

  “Is this a joke?” Trey asked with an incredulous expression.

  “No, no joke.” Rand had driven straight to his brother’s bachelor’s pad in Houston to deliver the marriage news. But as expected, his younger sibling refused to accept it.

  Trey leaned against the kitchen counter, attired in his running clothes, his face unshaven, his brown eyes narrowed. As a youth, he’d been a star athlete, excelling at every sport he played. He could’ve gone pro, but he’d decided to enlist in the United States military instead, intent on saving the world.

  Typically, Rand and his brother got along well. They’d always been close, often banding together when their dad bullied them. But their dad’s influence had made them scrappy at times, too, and if they didn’t see eye-to-eye on something, it could get tense between them. Like now, Rand thought.

  “Come on.” Trey goaded him. “What’s really going on?”

  “I just told you, I’m in love and I’m getting married.”

  “To who?” His brother all but scoffed. “Some spoiled rich party girl?”

  Rand held his ground, as tightly as he could. “I’m marrying Allison Cartwright.”

  “The Irish woman who was at Will’s funeral? Are you serious?” Trey grabbed his water and took a swig. War hero that he was, he had a sharp mind and a cautious nature, keenly aware of the people and places around him.

  In this case, his suspicions were justified, but Rand wasn’t letting up. “I got close to her after the funeral. She was in a bad way, and I helped her through it.”

  Trey wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Since when have you ever helped anyone?”

  “You make me sound like a prick.” Rand was already feeling like one, after all the romantic jargon he’d heaped on Allison’s family today. “I donate time and money to charitable causes all the time.”

  “That’s not the same as being there for a woman who needs you. All you ever do is jump from one lover to the next, and now you’re marrying someone who isn’t even your type.”

  He clenched his jaw. “You don’t know anything about Allison.”

  “I know that she sat there at Will’s funeral looking like a broken bird. She seemed devastated by everything that went down.”

  “And I just told you that I helped her through it,” Rand said. “That she needs me. That I need her. That we’ve been having a secret relationship.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you to sleep with her, but to fall in love, to marry her? I just can’t believe it.”

  “Well, you better start believing it because we’re in the process of planning our wedding.” Rand battled a tightness in his gut. His brother was wrong about him sleeping with Allison. But he couldn’t say anything about that. “Just accept that I’ve changed. That she changed me. That we’re in love and eager to have a life together.”

  “I wish I could, but something just doesn’t feel right about this. Are you sure you’re telling me the whole story? That you’re not up to no good?”

  Well, shit. Rand tried another tactic. “Do you remember when we were kids and I used to dress up as Batman, and you would trail along as Robin? Well, this is sort of like that, only so much bigger, so much more important. So just stick by me, okay? I came here to ask you to be my best man.” At least he wasn’t lying about that. “I need your support.”

  “Oh, wow.” Trey staggered a little. “You really are serious about getting married.”

  “I absolutely am.” If he failed to pull this off, if he didn’t repair his reputation, he would probably fail to bring in the new client at work and lose his job, too. But damn it, Rand had paid his dues at Spark Energy Solutions. He’d worked his way up the corporate ranks, becoming Will’s right-hand man, and now he needed to prove to the board of directors that he was every bit the CEO that Will believed he could be. That Rand wanted to be. That his critical father would never have given him credit for. “We’re going to get married as soon as we can, right after the Fourth of July.”

  “Then of course I’ll support you. I’ll be your best man. But I still have my concerns. Even if your heart is in the right place now, how long will it be before you panic and want to go back to being single?”

  Rand hated this conversation, despised it, in fact. It wasn’t easy having his brother see through him. Robin was supposed to be Batman’s sidekick, not his analyst. “That’s a terrible thing to say to a groom.”

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking about Allison. She seems like a nice person, and I just don’t want to see her get hurt.”

  Rand’s gut went tight again. He was getting the same warning from Trey that he’d gotten from Allison’s dad. “I’m not going to do anything that will hurt my wife.”

  “So you’re going to love, honor and protect her, the way a husband is supposed to do, for the rest of your life? That’s a hell of a commitment for anyone to make, but for a guy like you, it’s major.”

  “I know, but I’m going to do it.” Rand pushed the boundaries of his lie for the second time that day, making lifelong promises he knew deep down he wasn’t capable of keeping.

  * * *

  Allison awakened with a cluttered mind. She hadn’t slept well. She’d spent most of the night thinki
ng about Rand and how he was on the other side of those big fancy doors. Somewhere in the wee hours, she’d even fantasized about entering his suite, via those doors, and slipping into bed with him. Even now, she wondered what it would be like to explore the depth of her sexuality and have a head-spinning, smoking-hot affair with the man she was going to marry. But as fun and naughty as that sounded, becoming his lover would be even more complicated than becoming his wife. Because the sex would be real, even if the marriage wasn’t.

  Allison would do well to keep her knickers on. She’d already gotten herself into a painful mess over her affair with Rich, and she needed to learn from her mistakes and comply with the no-sex clause that she herself had come up with. She just wished that she wasn’t so physically attracted to Rand. That was a complication she could do without.

  Preparing to face the day, she entered the bathroom, soaking in the big, glorious tub her suite provided.

  A short while later, she donned a carefully considered outfit—a neatly ironed blouse and capri pants—and headed downstairs.

  She found Rand in the kitchen, brewing coffee, and as quick as that, she nearly swallowed her tongue. Was this how it was going to be every morning? The man wasn’t even properly dressed. The hem of his shirt hung loose, the buttons completely undone. His chest and stomach were casually exposed with impressive pecs, a nifty navel and irresistible abs. Intensifying his appeal was that messy midnight hair, still damp from the shower.

  She honestly didn’t know where to look. Every part of him was making her warm and foolishly aroused, reigniting her forbidden fantasies. Her nipples were even peaking beneath her bra, rubbing abrasively against the fabric. But thankfully, they weren’t showing through her top. She actually glanced down at her chest to be sure.

  After that, she settled her gaze onto the floor and noticed that Rand’s feet were bare.

  “I made enough coffee for two,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I drink tea.” Difficult as it was, she spoke as normally as she could. “I sometimes drink up to six cups a day.”

  “That’s good to know. We’re supposed to be learning each other’s habits. But for now, I don’t have any tea.”

  “I brought some with me.” She darted past him and opened a cabinet to the left of him. “I put it in here.”

  “Really, when did you do that?”

  “When you were at your brother’s yesterday.”

  He grimaced. “What an ordeal that was. But at least he’s lending his support, even if he thinks I’m going to be a crappy husband.”

  Allison didn’t reply. Just thinking of Rand as her husband, crappy or otherwise, was enough to make her knees weak. Standing beside him now, she prepared her morning beverage while he poured his.

  He said, “I’ve got ham-and-cheese frittatas in the freezer, with roasted red potatoes and sautéed mushrooms on the side. There’s fresh-cut tropical fruit ready to go, too. Will that do for our first breakfast together?”

  “That sounds yummy. I guess it’s safe to assume all of that came from the chef delivery service you use?”

  Rand nodded. “It’s convenient, especially for a bachelor like me.”

  “I can cook for us while we’re married.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind doing that?”

  “I’m positive. I like to cook as much as I like to eat. But for the record, I like to keep active, too.” She wanted him to know that she was more than just a foodie. “I grew up playing rugby. I was in a league, right up until I came to Texas.”

  “Really? Well, you’re just full of surprises.” He went to the freezer and opened it. “I played college ball. I was a linebacker.”

  He certainly appeared to have the size for it, with that big strong body of his. When he rummaged through the freezer, she ogled his butt. He turned back around, and she glanced away, even though she wanted to run her greedy gaze along his abs.

  While he placed their meals in the microwave, she sipped her tea as nonchalantly as she could. He drank his coffee, as well.

  The buzzer dinged, catching his attention. After he transferred their food onto plates, he put the fruit in a large glass serving bowl.

  They dined at a long marble island, which served as a kitchen table, leather-and-wood barstools already in place. She wished that he would button his shirt while they ate. But he didn’t. She was still subjected to his half nakedness.

  “We’ll have to challenge each other to a match sometime,” he said.

  “A match?”

  “Rugby. Football.”

  Oh, right. The sports they played. “Yes, we can do that.” As long as he kept his shirt on, she thought. Otherwise, how was she supposed to get into a game without drooling all over him?

  They both kept eating, until he said, “So what sort of stuff do you normally cook?”

  “All sorts. But I can make some traditional Irish meals you can reference during our immigration interview, if they ask you any questions that pertain to my culinary skills.”

  “It’s impossible to know what they’re going to ask. But if they ask you about mine, you can always tell them that I don’t cook.” He rose to refill his half-empty coffee. “I’ve never had a traditional Irish meal. I like to vacation abroad, though. I have a private jet at my disposal, with a pilot standing by when I need him. But I’ve never been to Ireland.”

  “Why not?” She would’ve pegged him for someone who’d traveled just about everywhere.

  He resumed his seat with the steaming beverage in hand. “Because I’ve never dated anyone from your country and typically I only go where the women are.”

  She shook her head, letting him know how odd his statement sounded. “The last time I checked there were women in Ireland.”

  He shrugged, smiled. “You know what I mean.”

  Yes, she understood. He was referring to his international string of lovers. “So I’m going to be your first Irish woman?”

  “That’s certainly how it’s going to seem. But technically, you aren’t really mine.”

  If she gave into temptation and slept with him, would she become his? Definitely not, she told herself. He didn’t commit to his lovers. Besides, she shouldn’t even be thinking about things like that. “None of your women belong to you, at least not for very long.”

  “Yeah, me and my lothario ways. I’m a bad boy cliché in this town.” He leaned back in his seat. “So, what’s your favorite color? If I had to guess, I’d say it was pink. I noticed a lot of pink clothes in your closet yesterday.”

  “I definitely like pink. But for the sake of us being together, I would choose green.” For the color of their eyes, for the emeralds he’d given her. She lifted her ring to specify, making her reason clear. Then she asked, “What about you?”

  “I’ve never had a favorite color, so if that’s a question in our interview, you can say I don’t have very many favorite things. I do have a favorite word.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But it’s a dirty one.”

  Instead of being coy, she brazenly asked, “Is it the F-word? Because if it is, I’ve never heard you say it.”

  “Yes, that’s it.” He slipped into a mock whisper. “But mostly I only say it when I’m...you know...”

  When he was what, doing the act itself? Or telling his lovers that was what he wanted to do to them? She tried to brush it off, even if she’d gotten dizzily aroused. Now she wanted to hear him say it, for his spicy Texas twang to slide straight into her. “That isn’t something we’ll be discussing during the interview.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is. But can you imagine if it was, if the immigration officer asked us a bunch of questions about our sex life?”

  “I’d rather not picture a scenario like that.” And especially not after she’d awakened this morning consumed with wild urges about him.

  “Yeah, I guess not. But they might ask if we
use contraceptives and what type we use. I heard they sometimes ask things like that.”

  To unmask couples, like them, who aren’t sleeping together? “What should we say if that comes up?”

  “I use condoms. But if you’re on the Pill or something, then we should probably say that since it’ll coincide with your medical records.”

  “I’m not on anything. Condoms would be my choice, too.” She thought of a related topic. “What about children? What if they want to know if we plan on having kids?”

  He angled his head. “Do you want them?”

  “Yes, someday. Two would be nice. Maybe three.”

  “Then that’ll be our story. Two, maybe three little ones. And with green eyes, no doubt, like your mother said.”

  Envisioning having bright-eyed babies with him was getting her flustered. She took a second helping of fruit and nearly spilled it onto the table, before it reached her plate.

  “So what’s yours?” he asked.

  “My what?” His question confused her.

  “Oh, sorry. Favorite word. Or don’t wordsmiths have favorites?”

  “We do. Or I do, anyway.” She struggled to relax, to get the sex and baby subjects off her mind. “It changes, depending on what I’m writing. When I was plotting my book to be a historical, I was rather fond of rake.”

  He chuckled. “Like the gardening tool?”

  She rolled her eyes, but she laughed a little, too. She was glad he’d made a joke. It helped lessen the tension. “I was talking about the other kind, the one that’s used to describe a hell-raising man. Rake is short for rakehell.”

  “I didn’t know that’s where it was derived from. But raising hell can sure be fun.” He winked mischievously. “Of course I can’t do that anymore.”

  “You definitely need to behave yourself.” Husbands shouldn’t be rakes, and fake wives shouldn’t be lusting after them. “We have a marriage to concentrate on.”

  “Speaking of which...since Trey is going to be my best man, you should have a maid of honor, too.”

  Allison sighed. If she was in Kenmare, she would have a slew of childhood friends and chatty cousins vying for that spot. But here in Texas, she was just getting to know people. “Maybe I can ask Megan since she’s the woman I feel closest to in this town. I first met her at the funeral, and we started to bond after that. A strange bond, I suppose, over being betrayed by the same man, but it’s been nice having her as a new friend.”