Antonides' Forbidden Wife. Anne McAllister

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      Or rather, Ally assured herself, more like a sparkler on the Fourth of July—bright and fizzing, ultimately insubstantial—and definitely best ignored.

      Determinedly she gave her head a little shake. “I’m sure that’s what it was,” she said firmly. “I shouldn’t have done it, though. Anyway, I’ve found out who I am and what I can do. And I owe it to you. So I came to say thank you belatedly and—” she reached down and picked up the portfolio she had set by her chair and opened it just as she’d rehearsed doing “—to bring you these.”

      She slid a file of papers out of the portfolio and held it out to him.

      He took the file, looked at it, but didn’t open it. “What are they?”

      “Divorce papers. About time, huh?” She said it quickly, then shrugged and grinned as brightly as she could, willing him to grin back at her.

      He didn’t. His gaze fixed on the file in his hand, weighing it, but he didn’t say a word.

      “I know I should have done it sooner,” she went on, papering over the awkward silence. “I’m sorry it took so long. I thought you’d do it. You could have had one at any time, you know. Well, almost anytime. After I turned twenty-one anyway. I told you so, remember?”

      He still didn’t speak. He didn’t even blink. His face was stony, his expression unreadable. And so she babbled on, unable to help herself. “I know it’s past time. I should have taken care of it ages ago. It’s a formality really—just confirming what we already know. I don’t want anything from you, of course. No settlement, naturally. But,” she added because she’d already decided this, “if you want a share of my business, it’s yours. You’re entitled.”

      “I don’t.” The words cut across hers, harsh and louder than she expected.

      “Well, I wanted to offer.” She took a breath. “Okay, then it will be even easier.” She reached inside her portfolio for a pen. “In that case, all you really need to do is sign them. I can take care of the rest.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      The rough edge was gone now. PJ’s voice was smooth and cool, like an ocean breeze. Ally looked up, startled.

      He was sitting up straight in the chair and was regarding her steadily.

      “Well, of course I’ll understand if you want a lawyer to look them over….” Still she fumbled for the pen.

      “I don’t.” Still cool. Very cool.

      She frowned, rattled. “Well then—” Her fingers fastened on the pen at last. She jerked it out and thrust it at him, giving him one more quick smile. “Here you go.”

      He didn’t move. Didn’t take it.

      And of course, she realized then, he didn’t need one. He already had a pen in his shirt pocket. She felt like an idiot as she gestured toward it. “Of course you have your own.”

      But he didn’t get it out. Instead PJ dropped the papers on the table, then looked up and met her gaze squarely. “No divorce.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      “WHAT? What do you mean, no divorce?”

      “Seems pretty clear to me. Which word didn’t you understand?” He raised an eyebrow.

      Ally stared at him, unable to believe her ears. “Ha-ha. Very funny. Come on, PJ. You’ve had your joke. You made your point. I was rude. I’m sorry. I’ve grown up, changed. Now just sign the papers and I’ll be on my way.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Why not?” She was rattled now. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

      “Sure it does.” He shrugged. “We’re married. We took vows.”

      “Oh, yes, right. And we’ve certainly kept them, haven’t we?”

      The brow lifted again and he said mildly, “Speak for yourself, Al.”

      She gaped at him. “What are you saying?”

      “Never mind.” He looked away out the window, stared out at Manhattan across the river for a long moment while Ally stewed, waiting for him to enlighten her. Finally he looked her way again. “I’m just saying we’ve been married for ten years. That’s a long time. Lots of marriages don’t last that long,” he added.

      “Are you suggesting that more people shouldn’t see each other for ten years? Or five,” she added, forcing herself to add that one disastrous meeting.

      He shook his head, smiling slightly. “No. I’m saying we should give it a shot.”

      “What?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “Give what a shot?”

      “Marriage. Living together. Seeing if it will work.” Deep green eyes bored into hers.

      Ally opened her mouth, then closed it again. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Not now! Not ever, for that matter. That had never been the plan. Not for her, and certainly not for PJ.

      “We don’t know each other,” she pointed out.

      “We were friends once.”

      “You were a beach bum and I was the counter girl where you bought plate lunches and hamburgers.”

      “We met there,” he agreed. “And we became friends. You’re not trying to say we weren’t friends.”

      “No.” She couldn’t say that. They had been friends. “But that’s the point. We were friends, PJ. Buddies. We never even went out! You certainly didn’t love me then! And you can’t possibly love me now.”

      “So? I like what I see. And a lot of marriages start with less.”

      He made it sound eminently sensible and reasonable—as if it were perfectly logical for two people to go their separate ways for ten years and then suddenly, without warning, pick up where they left off.

      Maybe to him it was. After all, he’d married her with no real forethought at all. It had been useful to her, so he had done it.

      She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

      “No, it’s not.”

      “Of course it is. We don’t live anywhere near each other. We have entirely different lives.”

      “I’m adaptable.”

      “Well, I’m not! I’ve got a life in Hawaii now. I’ve come home, settled down. I like it there. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, to do what I’m doing. It’s time to take the next step.”

      “Which is?”

      “Get a divorce!”

      “No.”

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