The Marriage Contract

“I want to finish it tonight before I go.”

“What are you trying to prove? I know you can do the work.”

“I need to polish.” She pointed her pen toward the dark outside the windows. “It’s too late to work in Selina’s garden tonight and—” A tall, dark-suited man walked into the light shining through the windows onto the sidewalk, and Clair’s throat dried out instantly. “What’s he doing here?”

“Who cares? Whatever he wants, we’ll do it for him.” Paul hurried to open the door for Nick. “Dr. Dylan, come in.”

“I’d like to speak to Clair, if she has time.”

Both men looked at her. No sprang to mind. She’d avoided Nick since he’d offered to let her tour her house. Tending her pansies later, she’d thought hard about him and his family. She didn’t want to owe him for even the smallest pleasure, but Paul’s pleading gaze told her he didn’t share her lack of enthusiasm for Dylan business.

Paul, she owed.

“Go ahead.” She shooed her employer toward the door. “I’ll lock up.”

“Don’t stay too much longer.” He slipped out. He’d “Velasco’d” her again.

“Can I offer you coffee, Dr. Dylan?”

Nick tugged at his tie. “I’d rather have a Scotch. Want to join me?”

Not even for Paul. “As you can see, I’m working. What can we do for you?”

He shook his head, his dark blue eyes serious. “I didn’t come to ask you to work for me.”

She declined to feel alarmed. “Then why are you here?”

“After we talked the other night, I expected you’d come ask for the key to your old house.”

“Why look at decay I can’t clean out?” An unaccustomed blush warmed her skin. She sounded melodramatic, but it was the truth.

“How would you change the house if you could?”

“Paint.” Plans she’d never consciously made spilled out of her without warning. “After twelve years, I’d probably have to rehang doors, take down wallpaper, redo the floors—” She interrupted herself, appalled. “But I don’t think about it.”

One corner of his wide mouth tilted, and he looked human. “Maybe you should think.”

“Want to explain what you mean?”

“What if I could make the house yours?”

Pain streaked through her body. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Are you saying you’d sell my family’s house back to me? I can’t afford to make an offer you wouldn’t laugh at.”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“What do you mean?” Either money or power fed the Dylans.

“Let’s get a drink and talk seriously.” He opened the door and reached for the light switch, but stopped. “Think how you’d feel if I could give your house back to you.”

She didn’t know she’d backed away from him until she bumped into the table. “Why would you?”

“Have you heard the terms of my father’s will?”

She shook her head. His words, “give your house back,” repeated over and over in her head, the rasp of his tone burrowing deeper into her mind.

“Jeff left everything to me,” he said absently, as if he’d forgotten she was listening. “Land, investments, bank accounts, your house.” He switched off the light. “But he made stipulations.”

“Please turn the light back on.”

“He said I have to marry. Fall in love and marry within twelve months, and stay married for a year.”

Only Jeff Dylan would be arrogant enough to believe he could regulate love. She shook her head to chase the thought away, feeling too close to Nick in the darkness. They both knew too much about the effects of his father’s illogical resentment. A sense of intimacy with Nick Dylan was the last thing she wanted. “Turn on the light.”

“Every time you look at me I know you despise me, but your voice—when I can’t see your face—your voice hates me more.”

“What do you want?”

“Clair, I want you to marry me. If you pretend to be my loving wife for twelve months, I’ll sign your house over to you, and no one will ever take it from you again.”

A gust of wind rattled the glass behind him.

“Do you think you’re funny? I’m not laughing.”

“I saw that as a good sign. I’m serious. Give me what I need, and I’ll give you your house.”

“I want it.”

“I knew you did when I found you planting pansies.”

Suddenly safe in the dark with her own disjointed emotions, she was glad he hadn’t listened to her about the light. “You must know other women. What’s wrong with you?”

He laughed without joy or happiness. “I know other women, but I don’t want to marry any of them. I’m not seeing anyone right now, and I don’t want to start a marriage with someone who’d expect it to last. Can you imagine you’ll want to stay married to me?”

Her stomach knotted. “No.”

“Then you’re the wife I want.”

The light switch clicked, and Clair blinked in the startling brightness.

“Want to come for that drink now?” he asked, weariness in his voice.

“Someone might see us together and misunderstand.”

“We may need people to see us together. If you want your house back, everyone will have to believe we want to be married to each other.”

“Stop using my house against me. You’re trying to buy me.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” he admitted.