Accidental Fiancee

The wooden dock ended and a stone path took its place. Olivia’s heart raced as she stepped down onto a walkway that meandered around a corner. Her heart thumping in her ears, she headed into the unknown. Not many steps later, she almost slammed into a towering male blockade in brown shorts and a green polo shirt. Though she’d been warned he was in the vicinity, and had expected him, she shrieked, stumbling a step backward.

Pressing her hands to her heart, she tried to breathe, managing strangled little gasps. What was the matter with her? It was only Zachary Merit. He wasn’t wielding a bat, and he didn’t even look like he’d done any frothing at the mouth.

Lounging against the boathouse, he folded his arms loosely across his broad chest as he surveyed her with shuttered eyes. His silent inspection went on for an interminable couple of pulse beats before one dark eyebrow rose. “Hi, honey,” he said, without the hint of a smile. “Have a rough day at the office?”

CHAPTER TWO

OLIVIA’S startled reaction surprised Zack. For a woman who’d jumped out of an airplane, she was pretty nervous about walking around corners. He wondered how she managed to get from her office to her father’s without having a full-blown panic attack.

He watched as she gathered her poise. Maybe it was the fiery sunset behind her, but her straight black hair seemed to have a coppery radiance about it. Her skin looked pale. Too pale. Back-lit the way she was, the honey-brown eyes he remembered as huge looked black as pitch. She seemed thinner and looked tired. Maybe it was the dying day throwing him a visual curve. Or maybe Olivia Nordstrom wasn’t feeling well. His annoyance abated slightly as he observed her take another shuddery breath.

“Oh…” she presented him with one of the weakest smiles he’d ever seen. “I—you startled me.”

He pushed away from the boathouse wall. “Then, I’m glad I changed my mind at the last minute and didn’t jump out and shout ‘boo.”’

Her smile twitched, but grew no stronger. She was either very tired, very nervous, or both. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “How did you find me?”

She cleared her throat. “Oh—I knew about your family and the island, the emerald business and all, so I took a shot.”

“I see.” Of course, she would have had no way of knowing he’d been estranged from his family for two decades. A week ago, he would have sworn the likelihood of ever finding him on Merit Island would have been nil. How ironic that he owed his presence here to none other than Olivia Nordstrom, herself. His ire surged, but he hid it. “What can I do for you, Miss Nordstrom?”

“Please, call me Liv,” she said. “I think saving my life gives you that right.”

He slashed a cynical grin. “Being your fiancé doesn’t count?”

She winced at his taunt. “Oh—I—well…”

He shrugged. “Never mind—what can I do for you…Liv?”

Her gaze darted away from his face, ricocheted off the boathouse, then pinged up to the mansion. She blinked several times, her fingers lacing and relacing. “I—first…” She slid her attention back to him, and he sensed the move had taken extreme effort. “I want to apologize for the—the engagement thing.”

“Ah, yes.” He fought a renewed surge of irritation. “I seem to remember reading something about that in a few newspapers.” He lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Imagine my glee.”

She swallowed visibly, thrusting a hand through her glossy hair. Zack bet it felt like silk. The odd thought startled him at first; then he decided it wasn’t that odd. After all, Olivia Nordstrom was pretty. A pretty woman, two or three years out of college, from a prominent family. Zack would wager his racing sponsors he wasn’t the first male to notice her—and be interested.

But he was no fool. He was thirty-seven, a vagabond who made a fair living at the moment racing boats. In the long run, that didn’t mean much to women. They wanted to believe there was more potential for permanence in their men than his lifestyle exhibited—both emotional and physical. What he did was exciting and dangerous, so women seemed to find him exciting and dangerous. And temporary.

Olivia sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “That remark about our engagement was stupid,” she admitted. “I was being flip. That reporter had been driving me nutty with his everlasting inquisition about our relationship, and I just—I just…snapped.” She peered at him from beneath her lashes, looking guilt-ridden. “I never—never in a trillion years—thought he’d take me seriously. I’m truly sorry.” She grasped her skinny handbag strap with both fists. “My father’s furious with me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Zack said. “I’m not exactly the poster boy for ideal son-in-law of conservative presidential hopefuls.”

“Hardly,” she said, then made a pained face. “Oh—I didn’t mean, er…”

He couldn’t suppress an ironic chuckle.

She lifted her glance to his face, appearing both surprised and alarmed.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Liv. My hide’s tough. I’m hardly bleeding.”

She ran her knuckles across her lips, appearing weary and frustrated. “Zachary,” she said. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go.” She inhaled, looking as though she was working on her resolve. “Could we start over? Why don’t you ask me why I’m here?”

He peered at her. “Okay.” He didn’t know why, but he extended a hand. “Hello, Miss Nordstrom.” He paused, and the silence grew deafening.

He could tell when she finally grasped what he was waiting for because she jumped, unclenched a fist from around her handbag strap and slid her fingers into his. They were cold and trembly. “Hello, Mr. Merit.” She sounded more confident than her shaky hand indicated.

His anger slipped a cog, but only one. He squeezed her fingers for a second, then released her. “What can I do for you?” he repeated.

This time she managed a smile that didn’t look quite so bleak. “According to the Chinese, if you save somebody’s life you’re responsible for them forever.”

Taken off guard by her remark, he said, “But neither of us is Chinese.”

She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “No, but I decided if one of us became angry enough to harbor thoughts of—well—doing away with the other, I might need to remind, uh, the homicidal one of us that he’s responsible for me. That means you can’t snuff out my lights on a whim.”

Her attempt at humor surprised him, and though he had a fleeting urge to smile, he kept his expression skeptical. “Let me see that in the rule book.”

Even as Zack made the quip, he had to admit he wasn’t as furious with her now as he had been for the past week. In truth, “furious” was a mild word for what he’d felt—having been forced out of his town, reporters nipping at his heels.

There was something about the senator’s daughter, today, something tangibly vulnerable—in her eyes, her stance and the way she almost-but-not-quite smiled, that made him realize his desire to strangle her had died a quiet death. She didn’t look as though she was having the time of her life, either. If he were to be fair, she not only had the bothersome movie and all its ramifications to deal with, she was hip deep in her father’s bid for his party’s presidential candidacy. That couldn’t be a bed of roses.

He was amazed that after being in a bloodthirsty froth for days, he could conjure up sympathy for her. Maybe it was the island’s doing—the unending boredom. He wasn’t cut out for such a pastoral existence. He was beginning to believe all the quiet was making him lose his will to live—or in Olivia Nordstrom’s case—to kill.

“I—I came to ask if you’d be willing to discuss what to say to reporters to get them off our backs once and for all,” she said, almost pleaded. “I hoped we might work out a press release we could both live with.” Her expression pained and sheepish, she added, “My dad would like us to say we’ve parted amicably.”

Dubious, he asked, “Wouldn’t the senator rather have you tell the press you’ve seen me for the bum I am and dumped me?”

The automatic lighting system for the boathouse and dock clicked on, flooding Olivia with a bright spot. Zack bore witness to the intense blush that crawled up her pale cheeks. He could tell by her sudden, downward glance that her father had suggested exactly that.

“Out of the question,” she murmured, then met his eyes. “I would never dump the man who saved my life.”

He let that statement sink in for a few seconds, and found himself shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the situation, and even more ridiculous conversation. “I’m touched, Liv,” he said, only half joking. “I presume you’d like this press release as soon as possible?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I should get right back. But I felt this was so important I had to come myself. It was only fair to you.” She managed a slight, embarrassed smile. “Especially since I didn’t let you know about our engagement.”

“I appreciate being included this time.” He indicated the mansion on the hill. “Why don’t we go inside where we can discuss our amicable breakup under fewer spotlights.”

Her blush faded somewhat, and Zack noticed, with the stark light, she really did look unwell. Her eyes seemed hollow, lusterless. He hadn’t seen her for nearly a year, when he’d had dinner at her home. She’d been attractive and vivacious, with a golden tan. But this Olivia Nordstrom was so pallid her beige linen suit seemed dark by comparison. If he didn’t miss his guess, she’d lost weight. Though she was still lovely, the change wasn’t for the better.

Without determining why, he took her arm. “It’s fastest if we cut across the lawn.”

She balked. “But—across the lawn?”

He halted and glanced at her. “Is that a problem? Do you have a grass allergy?”

She shook her head. “No, but heels don’t do well in grass. They tend to sink.”

“We wouldn’t want you making divots in the lawn,” he quipped offhandedly, glancing at the shoes. Actually his attention only flicked off the high heels before seeking out slender ankles. “Take them off,” he suggested, working to keep his mind on track.

“And walk in my stockings?”