Suiteheart Of A Deal: Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours?

Never. As she luxuriated in the hot, soapy water, the sheer finality of that word hit her like a slap in the face. She was here and she was staying. Forever. Whatever it took to keep her in this beautiful place, she would do it.

Ah, even if it meant marrying the town hustler? Yes, she realized, even if it meant that.

Sighing, she looked around the bathroom, at the chipped paint on the wood wainscoting and the cracked, rippling mirror above the pedestal sink. Lilly’s personal items were still in the medicine cabinet. Thank heavens Rainey didn’t have to redecorate. There was, of course, still the matter of where she was going to live.

Hmm. A light flashed on in her head and she abruptly sat up, splashing water over the side of the tub. What would Trevor think if she married Beck? Hah! Wouldn’t it just serve him right? Wouldn’t it just frost him? She could just see the look on his bland face. Total shock. Oh, how she would love to see it! Of course, if she did marry Beck, she would have to settle for Trevor’s reaction over the telephone. But even that would be worth it.

Oh, yes, she realized with maniacal glee, it would be well worth it.

Laughing like a lunatic, suspecting that she had lost her marbles but somehow no longer caring, and knowing full well that it was going to be a disaster, she scrambled out of the tub and called Beck at home. When he answered, sounding tired, she exclaimed, “Okay, buster, I’ve thought it over. Let’s do it!”

“YES, LADIES and gentlemen,” Beck intoned in his best impersonation of an infomercial pitch man, “it’s the first, the only, free-trial offer of its kind. Try a wife! Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. If you’re not happy with the product, just return it after six months—a year at the most—and get a full refund.”

Chuckling aloud, he dipped Lilly’s ancient hand razor in the sink and took another careful swipe at his five o’clock shadow. He wanted to look his best tonight. He was about to make the biggest, and definitely the strangest, announcement of his life: I’m getting married, Grandma, to a woman I met five days ago. She doesn’t love me, Grandma. Hell, she doesn’t even like me much, but who cares? She’s a babe!

His eyes, glassy and a little crazed looking, stared back at him from the mirror above Rainey’s bathroom sink. “You’ve gone mad,” he said to them.

“Beck, what on earth are you doing in there?” Rainey asked from outside the door. She sounded tense, rattled.

“Nothing,” he answered in the high-pitched voice of a kid just about to shave his head and put a ring in his nose.

Moments later he heard an anxious sigh followed by the click-click of her heels retreating down the hall. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

Wasn’t it just the deal of a lifetime? A suiteheart of a deal, he thought, choking back a laugh. How many guys could just try a wife on for size? Marry with the option, right up front, to just walk away if things didn’t work out? None, that’s how many. Nate Frome would be green with envy. He already had two messy divorces behind him.

Ah, wait a minute. He couldn’t tell Nate the truth—not right away. If their little scheme was to work, everybody had to believe that he and Rainey were crazy in love. No exceptions. Dammit, he would love, just love, to see the look on old Nate’s mug.

Distracted, he nicked himself. Terrific. Now he was going to be stuck with a nerdy square of tissue on his chin.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a real marriage—not in the biblical sense, anyway. Rainey had made that pretty clear the other day. Separate bedrooms. Yeah, well, he’d just have to see about that.

And that stuff about being vulnerable. What was that about? Obviously, Trevor, whoever he was, had broken her heart. Beck wanted to kill the guy. Mostly for hurting Rainey, but also partly for giving Beck one more damned hurdle to jump. Loving Rainey was starting to feel like a four-hundred-yard relay.

He dabbed at the cut with a tissue. Hey, wait a minute. Loving Rainey. Now where had that thought come from? Stay cool, he silently warned his reflection. Stay cool, old boy.

He heard her banging around in the living room. Nervous and jumpy, she had changed her clothes about nine times in the past hour. Beck could just imagine what she was wearing now. One of those prim, high-necked blouses she seemed to have an endless supply of. A straight, knee-length skirt. Probably panty hose, too. You’d think she was still working at the Royal York Hotel, or something. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that no woman in Bragg Creek wore panty hose if she could possibly avoid it.

Cool. Yeah, well, that was going to be tough. ’Cause no matter what kind of getup she wore, Rainey Miller was just about the most delicious piece of womanhood he had ever seen. Those eyes. Those curves. Those legs.

After that stupid move he’d made in her kitchen the other day, Beck had gone home and cursed himself three ways to Sunday. She had just issued a plea for mercy, and what had he done? Drooled all over her, that’s what. Like it or not, he would just have to summon a little restraint. Keep his greedy mitts off her—except, of course, when it served their crazy purpose.

Yes, sir. The bedroom thing, the wardrobe thing, the anal-retention thing—all would be addressed in good time.

His thoughts drifted to Francine. Should he tell Rainey about her? Last spring they had gone out exactly three times—twice to dinner and once to a movie. Six whole months had passed and she was still bitter about their “breakup.” What Beck didn’t understand was, how could they have broken up when they never got together in the first place? They had nothing in common and couldn’t dredge up enough conversation to get through a meal. Why, they hadn’t even…

Anyway, maybe he should just leave it alone for now. Francine was smart and sensible. She’d come around eventually.

Another thing he wasn’t about to tell Rainey: that despite his reputation he hadn’t gotten down to business with any woman for nearly two years. He was hungry for a woman’s touch, her taste, her scent. But not just any woman…

Lord knew it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. It was just that…hell, there just wasn’t anybody he wanted to be with. Meaningless, short-term stuff. Man, he was tired of that routine. The mindless chitchat over dinner. The slow buildup to the big question: So, when do you get your inheritance, Beck? And by the way, exactly how much money is it? Not that I’m interested, or anything.

And then, worst of all, the hurried, halfhearted sex that left him wanting more. What more he wasn’t exactly sure—but there had to be something more.

The last of his whiskers shed, Beck washed his still-bloody face, rinsed the razor and put it away. Whistling, he raked a comb through his hair and donned a pair of clean khakis and a turtleneck sweater. Satisfied that he was at least passably presentable, even with the goofy tissue paper, he stepped into the hall.

And came face-to-face with an angel.

Grimacing and wringing her hands, Rainey stood before him in a long green linen dress. Sleeveless and collarless, it fell in a straight line from her slender shoulders to the tops of her thin-strapped black sandals. From there it was slit up both sides to her bare knees. A black enamel pin and a slender black bracelet completed the ensemble.

“Wow!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Beck.” Her expression was tortured. “Do you think it’s okay? I mean, it’s really a summer dress…”

“I think it’s more than okay,” he confirmed with an appreciative nod. “I think it’s spectacular.”

“Oh, Beck.” She managed a small smile. Her hair shone and her lips glistened with a pale-pink glossiness. Despite her anxiety, she had a girlish glow on. It was just about the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Before he could stop them, his eyes took a good long look at the swelling of those more-than-generous breasts beneath the pale green sheath, and the graceful curves leading down to those luscious hips. He had no trouble picturing her without the dress. No trouble at all.

Restraint, he silently reminded himself. Restraint, Beck.

“You look wonderful, too,” she said sweetly.

Beck eyed her suspiciously. In the past three days she had swung all the way from snarling at him to almost treating him like a human being. What was going on?

The doorbell sounded and he winked at her. “It’s show time!” Rainey took a sharp breath and expelled it slowly.

“Beck, darling,” his tiny, feisty grandmother chirped as he let her into the apartment, “you’re as handsome as ever!” As usual, she was overdressed and over-coifed, her mauve suit, pink shoes and blue-tinted hair a medley of clashing pastels.

“Thanks, Grandma,” he said as she brushed past him and made a beeline straight for Rainey. Smiling as sweetly as only a crafty old lady can smile, she held out her jeweled hands and clasped the sides of Rainey’s bare arms. “Why, aren’t you just the prettiest thing!”

Rainey beamed—and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“I’m delighted to meet you at last. Your aunt Lilly always said such nice things about you. I can see now that she wasn’t exaggerating.” With that, her watery eyes clouded over with sadness. “Oh, I miss her so much,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A stroke. And she was only eighty-four. It’s tragic.”

Beck rolled his eyes. He loved his grandmother, but her penchant for melodrama bordered on being insufferable.

Rainey, immediately smitten, murmured, “I miss her, too, Mrs. Mahoney.”

Old Flo pursed her lips. “Oh, please. Call me Flo. We don’t need formalities here.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Rainey cried. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Flo’s frown quickly gave way to a sugary smile. “Well now, isn’t that just the mark of a well-raised young lady. I’ll tell you what. Call me Grandma then.” She flashed Beck a disgusted look. “These Mahoney boys, they just don’t seem to be able to produce girls. It will be a pleasure to have you as my granddaughter.”

Beck nearly gagged. “Tea, ladies?”

“Only if there’s a little gin to go with it,” his grandmother replied as she and Rainey moved into the living room.