CINDERELLA BRIDE Page 13

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  Chapter 9

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  At the rate he was going, Carter wasn't going to last five minutes, never mind five years.

  It wasn't supposed to be like this, he silently protested, tipping his head back against the wall.

  Tall, voluptuous brunettes had always stirred his blood. He would have anticipated this stiffening in his groin from them. But why the hell was he lusting after a dainty blonde with bright-blue eyes and the sweetest of smiles? Where had this attraction come from? And why now, when he knew the very success of this relationship depended on him controlling his libido?

  As long as he could keep his attraction to her under control, she wouldn't be able to breach his defenses. But if he ever let himself go with her, he'd never be able to get that control back. Eva Ann had taught him a bitter lesson, one he would never forget. Marly might never turn on him, but he couldn't take the chance and let his guard down.

  He opened a kitchen drawer and checked the velvet box inside. Then he drained the remainder of his coffee in one large gulp and reached for the phone. He didn't relish the idea of waking Anil so early on a Saturday morning, but the situation with Tyler took precedence over any formalities.

  "Anil, it's Carter. I'm sorry to wake you—"

  "Wake me? Oh, that's rich. We're in the middle of a feeding over here. You want a turn?"

  Carter smiled. "Thanks, but I'll pass this round. Listen, the reason I'm calling … I need a favor."

  "Sure, name it."

  "The Summit." Carter had counted on Anil's recognizing the significance of the name of the private school where Anil had spent his youth, along with children in danger.

  His friend didn't fail him. "This is serious."

  "Yeah."

  "How soon?"

  "Today."

  "I don't suppose you can tell me…"

  Carter gripped the phone. "No. I'm sorry."

  "That's all right. I understand. Give me an hour."

  "Thanks, Anil." He hung up and turned around to see Marly watching him curiously.

  He remembered her words of pride for a man she barely knew, and felt a surge of warmth deep within him. Beneath the warmth, something else rumbled to life. Wanting. The embers of a too-familiar yearning, banked but still burning. What was it about this woman that was slowly driving him crazy? Carter couldn't explain it.

  He looked at her, and he itched to feel the well-worn denim of her jeans, to see for himself if it was as soft as it appeared and to know the shape of her bottom in his hands. He wanted to lift her sweatshirt, touch the skin of her stomach, and run his fingers along the gentle curves hidden beneath the baggy material. He wanted to feel her breasts in his hands—

  "Carter?" A glimmer of fear reflected in her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

  "No." No. He forced his thoughts to a careening halt and spun away. He didn't know what sparked this unexpected attraction, only that he couldn't allow it to blaze to life, risk letting it grow out of control. "I was just seeing about arrangements," he said, his back to her as he poured himself another mug of coffee and reached for a notebook. "Hungry?"

  She took a piece of bread from the loaf on the counter and popped it into one of four slots in the toaster. "This is fine."

  Carter shrugged and carried his mug to the window seat. He stretched his legs out on the cushions and opened a notebook on his lap. But his gaze focused on the sunrise in the meadow beyond, and his thoughts centered around the woman he was about to marry.

  He swore he would hold himself rigidly in check, even when he did finally take her to bed. He would be the perfect gentleman. He wouldn't let himself drown in her. He would simply consummate the marriage and satisfy his wife as swiftly as he could, while preserving the distance between them.

  "Is this seat taken?" a soft voice asked.

  Carter angled his outstretched legs to make room for her. She sat down and drew one leg to her chest, lacing her fingers over a bent knee. He frowned and returned his gaze to the meadow, trying to ignore the delicate scent of dewy flowers that teased his nostrils. He tried to concentrate on something, anything, besides the overwhelming desire to press his face against the curve of her neck and inhale deeply.

  "You've changed your mind, haven't you?"

  "What?" His gaze snapped back to her. Was he so transparent now that she could tell what he was thinking?

  There was a jarring, jagged-edged silence and then she repeated, "You've changed your mind. I can tell." Her voice sounded sad, yet tinged with an edge of fear. "You don't want to go through with this, do you? Our arrangement, the marriage, the—"

  "You can't be serious." Carter bolted upright, bringing his legs to the floor. Coffee sloshed around in his mug, the notebook fell and landed with a loud thump and Marly stopped speaking. "I haven't changed my mind," he said in a steady voice. "I'm not going to change my mind. I've just been sitting here, paranoid I'm going to do something that'll make you change yours."

  "You were?"

  "Yes."

  "Like what?" she asked.

  He could hear the undercurrent of relief. He shrugged. Like undress you with my eyes. He had to change the subject. Now. "There's something I wanted to ask you. Your teachers at the center? Are they all female?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "Earlier when Tyler woke up, I think he was more than just shy with me. I think he might be afraid of me … because I'm a man."

  Marly pursed her lips. "I could see that. I don't think he's had many ideal male role models. I know he's afraid of Billy Ray, and he's mentioned Daddy's men more than once, always with a bad connotation." She glanced down at her hands and drew a shaky breath. "The other night, he told me how his mother had promised him she wouldn't call Daddy's men again, but he knew she did. It's amazing. He knows so much about things he shouldn't … and so little about things he should. He was a crack baby. We've had to work extra hard to get him up to pace with the other kids his age." She stopped and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

  "Don't apologize. In fact, stop apologizing. We're both in this together now, all right?"

  "For better or worse?"

  He smiled down at his coffee. "Yeah, something like that." Marly took a deep breath. "I feel like I'm walking on eggshells."

  Carter glanced up. "Me, too."

  "I don't suppose it's going to get any easier with the passage of time."

  "I doubt it."

  She leaned forward. "Then tell me what you want from me, Carter, what you want from this marriage. Go ahead and spell it out. It isn't going to get any easier, any less awkward, and I have to know."

  "All right." He bent down and placed his mug on the floor. "It's pretty straightforward, I suppose. You know I want a child, preferably two, but we can wait and see how we do with the first one. I want your promise to help me raise him or her. We can lead separate lives privately if we choose, but we're a team when we're with our children. I want them to know they're loved, to believe they were conceived out of love."

  "But you told me—"

  "Marly, this may be a business transaction for you and me, but not for our kids. As far as they know, it's the real thing. So adultery is out. Divorce isn't an option, and if we run into marital problems, we'll seek counseling."

  She nodded and laced her fingers together to keep them from shaking. Carter had obviously spent a great deal of time thinking things through to be able to summarize an entire relationship in such concise, clear-cut terms. Though she appreciated his honesty, in many ways his thoughts of family seemed cold and calculated. Yet in many other ways they didn't.

  She couldn't deny that the kind of marriage Carter wanted had a certain appeal for her. He was offering her the space she needed, the emotional detachment she required in a relationship. But even more, a chance to have the children she'd always wanted, the children she'd believed she would never have. It was as close to the real thing as she could get.

  "Marly?"

  She raised her gaze to hi
s. His eyes were more green than brown this morning. Fringed with thick golden lashes, Marly thought they were the most beautiful pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

  "No matter what, I'll see that you're taken care of," he said.

  "How?"

  "Your finances. Your center."

  Her chin lifted a fraction. "You would take care of my center?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Even if something happened to me? If I died?"

  Carter scowled. "What kind of question is that?"

  "I have to know. We're discussing all the potential things that could go wrong, aren't we? Well, what if I die next week? Will you see that my center receives funding, that my children are taken care of?"

  "You're not going to die next week."

  "Can you please just answer the question. Will you or won't you?"

  "I said I would."

  "What about Tyler?"

  "Him, too."

  Marly exhaled and slumped in relief. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

  "I'm beginning to." Carter leaned forward. "I think you'll approve of the place I have in mind for Tyler. It's a kind of safe house, a private school for children in trouble. Very secluded, secured like a military base. The only way in is by referral.

  "Most of the kids have parents who are prime targets of assassination. Political figures. Diplomats. Others should be in the Witness Protection Program, but aren't for one or more reasons. You get the idea."

  She nodded. Others should be in the Witness Protection Program, but aren't for one or more reasons. How easy it was to look back several years and pinpoint the exact fork in the road where a person made the wrong turn. If her mother had known of this school, would she have pursued the option for them? It was just one of the questions Marly would never be able to answer.

  "Where is this place?" she asked.

  "Just outside Asheville, in the Smoky Mountains. We can drive there today."

  "Do you think they'll take Tyler?"

  "We'll find out soon enough. That's what I was doing just now on the phone. I know someone who used to go there. So do you."

  "I do?"

  "Anil Singh."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, he spent several years there when his father worked for the World Bank."

  "It must have been very lonely for him." She worried her lip between her teeth.

  "What?"

  "I don't know how I'm going to do this when the time comes. The center's been the only stable thing in Tyler's life, and to take that away at the same time as his mother… I mean, he knows about death and dying. Living in the projects, he's seen enough of it. But this is different. This is his mother."

  "The school has several child psychologists. I already checked with Anil."

  Her eyes suddenly widened, her expression growing disturbed.

  "I didn't mean to upset you. It was just an idea. If you'd prefer—"

  "No, it's not that." She slumped, propping her chin in one hand. "Do you remember the shooting at Lakewood Elementary last year?"

  "Sure."

  Marly wouldn't soon forget the crazy woman who had chosen an elementary school in the prestigious suburb of Lakewood as the sight for her morbid shooting spree. Four children had been wounded critically. One died.

  "They brought psychologists into the school for the children," she told him. "To help them deal with the tragedy. I thought it was a great idea. And then, just a few short months later, there was a shooting at one of the projects. Gang wars. Two eight-year-old boys were caught in the cross fire, one of them the elder brother of one of my kids. I went to the funeral. I talked with the mothers. I learned no psychologists were brought into their school, no professionals to help their children deal with the horror of their classmates' deaths.

  "I was appalled that the administration had viewed such a tragedy as a normal, everyday occurrence in the lives of these children, that they hadn't provided them with any special counseling. And now … now, I'm afraid I've done the same thing with Tyler. I've been so concerned with his physical safety—"

  "Stop right there. You prioritized in a time of crisis, Marly. That's all. And once you've seen to his physical well-being, you can turn your attention to other matters. I know you would have raised the question of a psychologist even if I hadn't."

  "You seem to have a lot of confidence in me."

  "Yeah, I do. I know you, Marly. A lot better than you think. I've done my homework."

  Marly looked away. The guilt of her deception suffused her cheeks with heat. Carter didn't know her, not really. How could he? She wasn't anyone—not the person she'd been born, not the person in whose skin she lived. For eight long years, she'd been a nonentity, a woman without a past, living another woman's life.

  Mrs. Carter King. The name whispered through her mind, and she wondered if, over time, she could truly make it her own.

  His jean-clad leg brushed against hers, but she didn't move away, savoring, instead, the odd sense of connection with the man who would give her an identity that was all hers.

  He was hard and strong, and Marly realized for the first time that she had his strength on her side, that she wasn't alone anymore, fighting one never-ending battle after another. She felt suddenly greedy, almost afraid to ask about the donation, but Carter seemed to read her mind.

  "We can get a cashier's check this morning," he said. "The bank's open on Saturday."

  "No, that's okay. Monday's soon enough. I want to get Tyler situated first. There is one other thing. I don't want any publicity. No media of any sort."

  "Any particular reason why not?"

  "Yes. I am a very private person, and I don't like the limelight. Is this going to be a problem?"

  Carter scratched his chin. "Not right now. We may have to reevaluate after we have children, though. School plays. Athletic events. Those sorts of things."

  "Okay," she agreed. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it. "I do have to call Annie Lou before we leave and tell her … about us." After five years of living with the older woman, she could anticipate her reaction. "I suppose I should warn you that Annie Lou's an incurable romantic."

  "You don't think she'll approve of a hasty marriage?"

  "Oh, she'll approve, but only because she's going to think it was love at first sight."

  Carter rose from the window seat. "So let her believe it." Crossing the kitchen, he pulled the small jeweler's box from the drawer where he'd stashed it. "I, um, have something for you."

  He hoped it wasn't too simple. Eva Ann had returned the one he'd gotten her, opting, instead, to pick out her own. He'd pretended it hadn't mattered, but for some reason, it had.

  He brought forth the box and popped open the top.

  Marly's hands slid from her knees.

  The small box in his outstretched palm suddenly seemed heavier. "You're probably thinking this was awfully presumptuous on my part. Maybe it was, but I bought it after the first time you turned me down." He shrugged. "I don't know. I thought maybe you'd take the offer more seriously if I had something to back it up."

  She didn't utter a sound, simply stared at the half carat diamond solitaire nestled in velvet lining.

  "I wanted to get a bigger stone, but I could just see you refusing to wear it to work." When her expression contorted in an expression of pain, he hastened to add, "It's okay if you don't like it. I can take it back if you want to pick your own."

  "No." She lifted her gaze to his, and he thought he detected a sheen of moisture gathering in her eyes. "I don't want another one. I want this one. It's … perfect."

  Carter swallowed. "You'll wear it, then?"

  "Yes, of course I will."

  He didn't realize until she said the words how very much he'd needed to hear them. "May I?" he asked, taking her scarred hand in his. She nodded, and he slid the ring over her finger. A perfect fit.

  The diamond sparkled, and Marly gripped his fingers with hers. "It's beautiful," she whispered, staring down at
the stone.

  So are you, he wanted to say but, instead, took a step back and, for some reason, held his tongue.

  She looked too good, sitting there in the window seat, nestled among the cushions and plants. She looked as if she belonged there, as if she belonged here, in his house with him. But it wasn't a done deal. Not yet. Not until he got his bride to the altar.

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  Chapter 10

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  Marly's heart skidded with warning, and her defenses rose in reaction. She could play a part for Annie Lou and the rest of the world, but she had to remember it was only an act. Her future husband was a charmer, and he could make it exceedingly easy for her to fall into the trap of accepting their make-believe love story as something real if she wasn't careful.

  They were silent for a few moments, until Carter said, "There's one other thing we have to talk about."

  At those few words, a well of panic superseded her apprehension. Her mind whirled down a mental checklist, and she realized they had covered almost all the basics, which left only one item. "What's that?" she asked, praying it wasn't the one topic she didn't want to tackle again.

  His eyes confirmed her fears before he spoke.

  "Sleeping arrangements."

  She fidgeted in her seat as his gaze continued to hold hers. She tried to find the words to tell him why she needed more time, when, from the other room, a small voice called out her name. Tyler. "In here," she called back, breathing a sigh of relief for the postponement of her confession.

  Tyler came barreling out of the den, then froze in his tracks when he saw Carter.

  "Hey, Tyler." Carter gave the boy an easy smile. If he'd been the least bit frustrated by the interruption, he recovered quickly.

  Tyler's gaze darted between Marly and Carter.

  "Hi, honey. Come on over here." She gestured with her hand. "Have you met Carter?"

  "We met earlier this morning, didn't we?"

  Tyler nodded, taking small, cautious steps toward the window seat.

  "Oh, come on. You're not shy this morning, are you?" She clasped Tyler in a quick hug, ruffling his hair.

  His arms circled around her waist. "Is he your boyfriend?" he whispered, careful to avoid looking at Carter.