Preacher's In-Name-Only Wife Page 3

  “It’s a rush, you know? Watching the images take shape on the developed film, capturing every nuance of character and place. Vivid. Real. In order to travel, though, I needed money. And I didn’t want to take it from Gramps.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with accepting a gift given in love from a family member.”

  “I wasn’t being stubborn at that point. Gramps wouldn’t have funded my traveling dreams. He didn’t approve of Dad doing it, and he wanted more from me.”

  He laid aside his hamburger and studied her. “So what did you do?”

  “I went to work as a cocktail waitress to save money.”

  “Mmm.”

  What did he mean by that “mmm”? “It paid well,” she defended.

  “Well enough to travel?”

  “Um…this particular establishment did.” She pushed aside her own burger and gave him a direct look, wondering if she was about to shock him. “I worked at a gentleman’s club.”

  He barely blinked. But proving that he was indeed a man, his eyes dipped for a split instant to her chest, then right back to her eyes.

  She waited to see if he’d acknowledge the typically male reaction, apologize. But he just looked at her steadily, without an ounce of repentance.

  “Did you…?”

  “Strip?” She laughed. Because that, too, was typically male. “No. I only waitressed.”

  “Go on.”

  “Gramps came in one night—”

  “To the strip club?”

  “It wasn’t a seedy joint, Dan.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to judge.”

  “Anyway, he didn’t know I worked there, and he flipped.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Would you stop saying that?”

  His lips twitched on a smile he was wise enough to suppress. “Go on.”

  “He ranted and raved and wanted me to quit on the spot. When I got home, he’d tried to enlist my mom’s influence, and was even more annoyed that she knew where I worked and stood up for me. He left in a huff, muttering about changing his will. I figured that was fine. I didn’t want his money. I had plans of my own. If he cut me out of his will, it wasn’t going to make me love him any less.”

  She paused and took a sip of water, then dragged a now soggy French fry back and forth through a pool of ketchup.

  “I never imagined he’d cut my mother out of the will—or she will be out unless I honor this betrothal pact our fathers made.”

  He shifted in his seat. She didn’t blame him for being uncomfortable. She was fairly squirming herself.

  “Specifically, what did the will say?”

  She reached into her purse and withdrew a document. “I have a copy here for you to read—the portion that pertains to the two of us. The paraphrased version is that I marry you or my mother’s home will be sold and the proceeds donated to charity.”

  She pushed the papers across the table. “And before you ask me about the legalities, I covered every angle I know of with the attorney. Gramps could do anything he wanted with his assets. The codicil is legal and binding—even if it’s outrageous.”

  She watched as he skimmed the document. The overhead lights caught the coffee-colored highlights in his thick dark hair. A Stetson lay on the vinyl seat beside him. His hands were large, his forearms muscular. He had a physique better suited to a tough wrangler than a minister whose power would radiate from a pulpit rather than from horseback.

  “The attorney is named as executor,” he said after a long moment.

  “He’d need to see a marriage certificate.”

  “Within a month.” He glanced up. “Your grandfather was gambling a lot on your and your mother’s future.”

  “More than you know.”

  He frowned. “And that means?”

  “Look, Dan. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here—”

  “I don’t believe I said anything about not wanting you here.”

  “Oh, right. It’s every day that some nutty woman bursts into your life, blurts out her sexual woes and asks you to marry her without even shaking your hand.”

  He grinned, then laughed. “Usually a marriage proposal prompts more than a handshake.”

  “We’re total strangers.”

  “People do usually get acquainted before they marry,” he concluded.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know any of the rules. I have no earthly idea how to be a preacher’s wife.” Flustered, she hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

  His brows rose a fraction of an inch. “Same as any other wife, I’d imagine.”

  She nearly pounded her fist against the Formica tabletop, despite the fact that she was a nervous wreck. “And I suppose you’re an authority on the subject?”

  “Not an authority, since I’ve never been married. Just for the sake of argument, what’s your main objection?”

  “You’re a minister!”

  He shrugged. “Yes.” His chocolate eyes went serious and intent. So serious, she shivered.

  “I’m also a man.” For a long, charged moment he held her gaze. Then he raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m defending myself or leading the conversation in this direction. You proposed to me, if I remember correctly.”

  “Under duress,” she muttered.

  “As a minister, I make it a rule never to marry a couple under duress.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I don’t like this any better than you do. It couldn’t have come at a worse time.” She had a horrified thought that she might be insulting him and quickly backtracked.

  “I mean, you seem like a really nice man. You’re handsome and have a great laugh, and any woman would be…” What? she wondered. Overjoyed at the thought of going to bed with this sexy guy?

  She couldn’t very well say that. Especially since all she wanted was an official piece of paper.

  She didn’t want the trappings that came with the marriage.

  And that was the biggest problem of all. The guilt she felt for putting him in this position of accepting or turning her down was huge. He didn’t owe her a thing. He didn’t know her from Adam—or Eve as the case may be.

  “Any woman would be what?” he prompted.

  “Never mind. If it was just me, I wouldn’t be here. But my mom’s whole way of life is at stake. She doesn’t have job skills. And neither one of us has enough savings to get her set up in another place.”

  “You said this was a bad time for you?”

  She nodded, feeling her stomach tighten, her heart pump. “Two days after Gramps died, I got a job offer from National Geographic. I’ve been periodically sending them samples of my work, and they’d seen a piece I’d won a local award for. It’s the chance of a lifetime.” A chance even her father hadn’t been offered.

  This job would allow her to follow in her father’s footsteps, to walk forward from where he’d left off, to keep his memory alive. To prove that holding on to a coveted dream was worth the personal sacrifice it often entailed.

  Most people, her grandfather specifically, could only condone sacrifices if there were tangible or glamorous results, evidence that the fruits of the dogged pursuit were worthy—like a lucrative payment, a world-recognized byline…an acclaimed award. Anything else, in his opinion, had merely been considered a hobby.

  “And if you go, your mother loses her home.”

  “Yes and no. Actually, they’ve offered to hold the job open for ninety days.”

  “Long enough to comply with the terms of your grandfather’s will.”

  She looked at him, nodded, didn’t bother to keep the pleading out of her eyes, or the sorrow and guilt. “I know you’ve probably got moral issues with this whole thing. I know I do, and I’m not the minister of a church. But I have to do this for my mom.”

  “What does she think of this…?”

  “Craziness? She’s hurt that Gramps would do such a thing.”

  “Did they not get along?”

  “That’s just the thing
. They got along great. He teased her about being a Yankee, but he treated her like a daughter. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  “So, your mother supported your decision to come here?”

  “Outwardly, no. But inwardly…that house has been her home for thirty years. It’s a part of her, the grounds, her gardens. It’s a beautiful old plantation home on six acres of land that’s seen many an afternoon tea party. She’s part of the town, part of that house. It’s all she knows and loves. She doesn’t know how to be anything except lady of her manor.” It was difficult to explain her mother. Chandra Marshall was…delicate.

  She sighed and curled her fingers into her palms until the short, neatly trimmed nails cut into her palm. “I’m asking a lot, I know.” She didn’t know what else to say. “Please think about it.”

  The compassion in his eyes made her stomach lurch. He had every right to turn her down. Any sane person would. She couldn’t let him, would beg if necessary. “It’s only for ninety days. It wouldn’t be…we wouldn’t…you know.”

  “Consummate the union?”

  She’d blushed more times in the last two hours than she had in the past two years. “Yes. I mean, no! We wouldn’t do that.”

  “What would we do?”

  Was he deliberately being difficult? Baiting her? “Live together as friends, I guess. Is that so hard to picture? Haven’t you ever had a roommate?”

  “Not one I was married to.”

  The frustration was overwhelming her. Tears stung the back of her eyes, clogged her throat. She fought them like crazy. She would not fall apart. She would not be weak.

  Like her mother.

  The unexpected thought ricocheted and smacked her in the solar plexus. She loved her mother.

  “Hey,” Dan said, reaching across the table.

  She shook her head. “I’m okay. I’m just tired. I’m acting like such a…a female.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want you acting like a male.”

  That actually brought a laugh bubbling to the surface.

  “Men don’t cry,” she agreed.

  “Well, I don’t know about that. I’ve been known to a time or two, and I’m definitely a male.”

  She imagined he hadn’t intended his comment to be a sexual one, but it struck her that way. All she had to do was look at him and the word “male” blazed in her mind like neon on a theater sign.

  What in the world was the matter with her? She didn’t have sexual designs on this man. She wanted his name on a marriage certificate, that’s all.

  In name only.

  For ninety days.

  “Listen,” he said, scooting out of the booth. “I need some time to think about this. I have other people to consider.”

  “I understand.” A whole church full of people, she imagined. It took everything within her not to press him. Rightfully, he’d need time to digest all she’d told him, what she was asking of him.

  She’d put a huge responsibility on his shoulders. With his decision, yes or no, he held Amy’s and her mother’s future in his hands.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked.

  Where was she staying? A wash of panic engulfed her. She hadn’t fully considered all the angles. What had she expected? To breeze in, get married and move right in with him? This showed how little she’d indulged in rational thought lately. “The local motel, I guess.”

  “That’s tricky. We’ve a hotel being built right now, but it’s not open for business. I believe Mildred and Opal Bagley have a room available at the boardinghouse just up the street. I’ll take you over there if you like, introduce you.”

  “No, I’ll find it. You go ahead and do whatever it is you need to do.”

  He nodded and settled the tobacco-colored Stetson on his head, then gave the brim a tug in a quaint, polite gesture of goodbye. “I’ll, uh, give you a call later, okay?”

  “Sure.” She wouldn’t blame him if he went home, packed up his clothes and skipped town to find another church to head up. Far away from strange women who came to town waving a betrothal pact in his face.

  DAN TILTED BACK in the leather chair in his study, listening to the ringing on the other end of the telephone. His mother would have admonished him for maltreating the furniture, but that was the thing about being alone. No one to please…or displease.

  It was late afternoon on a Thursday, and the chances of catching his father at home were about the same as for Dan himself. It all depended on who was sick, who’d had a baby, if there was a special event that needed preparing for…

  If a beautiful woman had proposed marriage.

  Who’d have thought today would bring such a fork in the road of his life?

  He gazed out the window where snow melted on the ground leading to the barn. His anticipated horseback ride would have to wait.

  Because of Amy Marshall.

  A name he’d never heard until two hours ago.

  A woman whose life had inadvertently been entwined with his since before their births.

  Oh, he firmly believed that all unions were written in the Big Book above. People were put in the right place at the right time for a reason. But to have his dad be the inadvertent instigator?

  He was confused, a state he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Right warred with wrong, hormones with morals, improbability with sanity.

  And at the center of that confusion was a woman who talked faster than a telemarketer trying to beat the dial tone.

  She looked like a fashion model, dressed like a thrift-shop enthusiast and drove a four-wheel-drive Jeep. A mass of contradictions.

  And that Deep Southern drawl…well, the combination of it all was messing with his libido, clouding his mind. He was actually starting to believe the proposition made perfect sense.

  Was that his head, his heart or his body reacting?

  His father spoke twice before Dan realized the telephone had finally been answered.

  His feet dropped to the floor. “Dad. It’s me.”

  “Dan. How’s it going, son?”

  “Good. Cold here. I bet you’ve got a pile of snow down there.”

  “More than our share. The fire’s roaring, though, and the house is quiet. Your mother just brought in a tray of cocoa, and I’m indulging in an afternoon of reading.”

  “Preparing for Sunday’s sermon?”

  Phil Lucas laughed. “Actually no. I’m reading about a particularly gruesome monster in a Koontz novel. Scary stuff. The man’s a brilliant writer.”

  Dan grinned. His father’s love of horror and suspense novels didn’t match his vocation or gentle character.

  Which reminded him of his own confusion.

  “I met someone today,” Dan said. “Amy Marshall. The daughter of a friend of yours, Mark Marshall.”

  “Ah, yes. How is Mark?”

  “He died,” Dan said gently. “Quite some time ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “So, the two of you didn’t keep in contact?”

  “Not since a few years after college. I moved to Montana and he stayed in Georgia.”

  “Well, since you didn’t stay abreast of each other, this is going to seem like an odd conversation.”

  “How so?”

  “When you were in college, did the two of you, uh, make some sort of crazy agreement?”

  “No…wait a minute. Maybe. What’s this about?”

  Dan tilted his chair back again, tried to relay everything Amy had told him. His father listened without interrupting.

  “I’d forgotten all about that marriage pact,” Phil said at last. “It was one of those things, you know? We never intended to see it through.”

  “What made you write it down in the first place?”

  “Emotion.” Phil paused for a long moment. “I’ve thought about Mark over the years, and I’m sorry he passed on without us getting in touch. I owed him more than that. Friendship. Especially since he saved my life.”

  “What?
”

  “Yes, in college we were out ice fishing. The lake was frozen and I got cocky, went out farther than I should have. The ice broke and I went under. Mark took a big chance. If he hadn’t come after me, I’d have died. But he saved me at great expense to himself. The ice could have given way beneath him, too. He didn’t think, though—he just acted.”

  Phil paused, and through the silence over the phone, Dan heard the sounds of material shifting against leather, the rattle of china clinking against wood.

  “We were pretty shook up afterward, a couple of guys huddled by the fire trying to deny our emotions. We made a joke of it, slapped each other on the back, said we were bonded for life and shouldn’t let the bond end with us, so we wrote it down. That was right before I started dating your mother.”

  “But you lost contact.”

  “Yes. Life often interrupts that way. People go their separate directions. I was grateful to him, though. If it had been anyone else, he might not have risked his life for mine. Mark was a bit of a daredevil, but he was a genuine man, also.”

  So, if it hadn’t been for Amy’s father, Dan might never have been born. The pressure in his chest increased.

  “Evidently Mark kept that paper the two of you wrote out.”

  “I wonder why,” Phil mused, then fell silent.

  “Hard to say. But his father—Amy’s grandfather—found it, and he filed it along with a codicil to his will.”

  “It seems far-fetched. Are you worried that this woman has come to you with ulterior motives?”

  “What motives? I’m not a rich man. I have nothing to offer her—except my name for ninety days so her mother doesn’t lose the family home.”

  Phil remained silent. That wasn’t what Dan was looking for. He’d figured he’d call his father and get immediate sage words of advice.

  “What should I do, Dad?”

  “I’m not the one you should be seeking answers from, son.”

  “I know. But I’m asking your opinion anyway.”