Last Resort: Marriage

AARON FROWNED AT EDWARD Harrington’s reflection in the department store mirror. The man had glued himself to his coattail like lint.

“A white tux?” Aaron shook his head, slipped out of the jacket, and tossed it back to the clerk. “Black.”

The clerk scurried off and old man Harrington shrugged. “Black is fine, if that’s what makes you comfortable. Do you love my granddaughter?”

Forcing himself not to react, he focused on his reflection, combing his fingers through his freshly trimmed hair. “Look, Mr. Harrington. We rushed the wedding up so you could be here, but other than that, stay out of our business.”

“My friends call me Edward.”

“So does your granddaughter,” Aaron commented.

“Yes, she does.” Harrington tilted his head. “Charlotte’s a smart woman. But, she needs a man who’ll help her slow down and enjoy life.”

“And you think Thurman would’ve done that?” Aaron scoffed in disbelief.

“Women need a family, a husband and children to love. A man to take care of them.”

“Charlie can take care of herself.” Aaron slipped into the elegant black jacket the clerk held up.

The last time he’d seen her, however, she’d been standing in the center of a horde of caterers and florists and looking as flustered as any real bride. Aaron grinned.

“Black suits you.” Harrington straightened Aaron’s jacket collar then selected a black bow tie from the two the clerk held out. “Pleated shirt and cuff links.”

Why argue? He figured the guy had forgotten more about fashion than Aaron had ever known. He could be a model for some upper-crust magazine like Senior GQ. A poor-as-dirt kid on the streets of Miami, Aaron had been lucky to have secondhand jeans.

Harrington held the tie up to Aaron’s white T-shirt then dropped his hand and pierced him with a menacing glare. “You do anything to hurt my granddaughter and I’ll ruin you. You’ll wish you’d never heard the name Harrington. You understand me?”

Aaron looked into his steel-gray eyes. How would he react when, instead of producing a baby in nine months, they produced divorce papers? “I’ll do everything in my power to make Charlie’s dreams come true.”

The man seemed to weigh his words. “I don’t trust you. Something isn’t on the level, but if you’re the man Charlotte loves, I won’t argue. Just keep in mind, I’ll be watching every move you make.”

He held his stare. “Yes, sir.”

“And as the new assistant manager, Perry will be here to keep an eye on the business.”

Aaron buttoned and then unbuttoned the jacket. No doubt, Perry was here to watch more than the business. The last thing they needed was Thurman snooping around.

He remained patient while they measured the tux for alterations. Before he could pay for the evening wear, Harrington handed the clerk a platinum card. Aaron started to object, but changed his mind. This whole charade was for the old man’s benefit, anyway. Why shouldn’t he shoulder the expense? Any man who’d force his own granddaughter to get married just to spawn an heir deserved whatever he got.

The clerk assured them the tux would be at the boat in forty-five minutes, altered, pressed and ready to go.

Aaron never failed to be amazed at the power of the almighty buck. “Great, I’ll have fifteen minutes to dress and get to my wedding. Nothing like cutting things to the last minute.”

“Do you have honeymoon plans?”

A pretend honeymoon wasn’t part of the bargain. He had to get his boat running in two weeks or he’d have to cancel the tours he had booked for Spring Break. “Maybe we’ll take a trip in the fall.”

“A good marriage deserves a good start. A couple days shouldn’t bankrupt either of you. Charlotte looks exhausted. Take time to relax and enjoy each other.”

The old geezer actually seemed excited about the prospect of Charlie getting laid. Did he think he could control their sex life, too? “Don’t you have other children or grandchildren to worry about?”

Harrington huffed. “My only son—the self-centered playboy—married a starlet with a brain the size of a pea. Two of a kind. They were killed nine years ago in the Alps when they ran their snowmobile off a cliff.”

“Charlie’s parents?” Aaron winced at Harrington’s nod, picturing how devastated self-reliant Charlotte probably was by the loss of her parents. “She must have been what, nineteen or twenty?”

“You two don’t talk much, do you?” Harrington asked.

“Hasn’t exactly been high on the priority list.”

The old man pursed his lips. “Don, Charlotte’s older brother, was in California at the time, studying acting. Like his mother in more ways than I care to discuss.” Edward took a breath. “And then there’s Charlotte.”

“And then there’s Charlotte,” Aaron repeated. “There is Charlotte.”

Chapter Three

Charlotte’s head throbbed. Things were happening too fast. How could her entire life turn upside-down in thirty-six hours?

The reflection in the pink marble-framed mirror was that of a stranger. Soft curls teased her cheek. She shifted from one satin stiletto to the other and tried to stand still as the hairdresser fussed with the placement of tiny flowers in her hair. She fingered her grandmother’s pearls. Today they felt more like a noose than a treasured family heirloom.

She’d never made use of the spa at the resort for more than an occasional massage, yet today Edward had pushed her into the shell-pink suites where her body had been massaged, waxed, buffed and conditioned. Her nails were French-tipped and the girl had painted a tiny white flower on her big toe. Subtle highlights streaked her freshly trimmed and curled hair. The artistically applied makeup put the two-minute blush and mascara she smeared on each morning to shame.

Edward had instructed Rosa, the woman who ran the resort boutique, to pick out a special outfit for the occasion. Rosa had been born with a rare gift for guessing a customer’s size, taste and credit limit in the span of twenty seconds. Always attentive to details, she’d included an array of accessories, right down to a lacy blue garter.

Charlotte felt like Cinderella. All this feminine pampering would have made her mother proud.

Still, it seemed senseless for a pretend wedding. Okay, so the wedding was real, but the marriage was temporary.

To satisfy the old saying, she had a blue garter, a new dress and the heirloom pearls she’d inherited after her grandmother died. Charlotte closed her eyes. Did a groom count as something borrowed?

She just wanted to get this dog and pony show over with. Focus on the goal. If they could pull this off, in six months Edward would sign the resort over to her, Aaron would be history, and she could put this insane charade behind her.

Charlotte blinked at her reflection. Who was this chic woman staring back? She was getting married in…She glanced at her Gucci watch and gulped. “I’m late.”

She smoothed her white linen tea-length gown, waved Rosa and the fretting hairdresser away, and hurried across the manicured lawn.

A lavish reception filled the Hibiscus Ballroom. Charlotte’s personal attorney had Aaron’s signature on the prenuptial agreement and the bank had approved the loan. Her stomach cramped. The payments on a hundred thousand dollars would put a sizeable crimp in her investment portfolio.

Palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze as Edward strolled down the sidewalk, looped his arm through hers, and whispered, “The most beautiful bride since your grandmother walked down the aisle fifty years ago. She’d be so proud. She worried that you wouldn’t take time for a family.”

Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes.

She squeezed his arm. How could she love someone so much and want to strangle him at the same time? As much as she hated his ability to manipulate her, there wasn’t a soul on earth who loved her except her grandfather. No matter how foolhardy his plan, his intentions were irreproachable.

They moved toward a small yacht that had sailed up to the resort dock an hour ago. It sported bright aquamarine trim and flew billowing flags. A dubious-looking captain in a flashy uniform stood at the helm amidst a forest of bright tropical flowers.

Bile rose in her throat.

You can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. The next time her feet touched this grass, she’d be a married woman. Married to Aaron Brody. She froze.