The Temporary Mrs King. Maureen Child

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      She looked bright as a sunbeam sitting in the dark corner of the once elegant and now tired-looking bar. Thirty years ago, this place was no doubt considered top-of-the-line. But it had seen its day come and go and hadn’t tried hard enough to keep up.

      Now, the wood floors had deep scars that several coats of polish couldn’t disguise. The walls were in need of fresh paint and the windows were too small. There were some nice touches though. Sort of art deco, Sean thought. The throughways were rounded at the top, arched with clean lines, which he liked. Round mirrors with tiled edges. Rectangular tables with bowed legs and mosaic inlaid surfaces. The wall sconces were Tiffany-esque with a modernistic thirties sense of style. It was beautiful, but definitely needed a face-lift. If it were his place, Sean would have taken out the front wall entirely and replaced it with glass, affording the patrons a spectacular view of the ocean. And he’d have clung to the art deco style and added a stained glass window filled with sharp angles and curves over the door. The hazards of running a construction company, he supposed. He was forever remodeling places in his mind.

      But this wasn’t his bar and he had a beautiful, if a little weird, woman waiting on him. Since he wasn’t meeting Walter Stanford until the next morning and he had a few hours to kill anyway … Sean smiled to himself as he walked toward her.

      He took a seat opposite her and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. Holding his bottle of beer atop his flat belly, he tipped his head to one side, and studied her quietly, waiting for her to explain. He didn’t have to wait long.

      “I know you’re here to buy the land on the North Shore.”

      “Not exactly a secret,” he said, taking another sip of the icy beer. He took a quick look at the label. A local brew, it was exceptional. Once they got the go-ahead and Rico’s hotel was up and running, he’d tell his cousin to stock this beer in the bar.

      Shifting his gaze to her, Sean shrugged. “It’s probably all over the island that the Kings are negotiating with your grandfather.”

      “Yes,” she said, folding her hands together on the tabletop. Somehow, she managed to look both prim and incredibly sexy. “Lucas King was here a couple of months ago. He didn’t get very far with Grandfather.”

      Irritating, but true.

      In fact, Sean himself had already had one phone conversation with Walter and it hadn’t gone well. Which was the reason he was here, in person.

      In the Caribbean, Tesoro was one of the smaller islands and privately owned. Walter Stanford was practically a feudal lord around here. He had his hand in most of the local businesses and guarded his island from newcomers like a pit bull at the end of a very short chain.

      Sean’s cousin Rico King was bound and determined to expand his hotel empire and he wanted to build an exclusive resort here. On Tesoro. King Construction—Sean and his half brothers Rafe and Lucas—would be partners in the deal. But it wasn’t going to happen without that land. So for months, the Kings had been wheeling and dealing, trying to convince Stanford that a King hotel would mean great things for this island. New jobs, more tourists and plenty of money hitting local cash drawers.

      Rico had been here himself to see the old man. Followed in quick succession by Sean’s brothers Rafe and then Lucas. Now it was Sean’s turn at bat, so to speak. He was the one sent in when things were looking bad. Sean’s charm and laid-back attitude were usually all it took to cinch a deal. He knew how to play hardball. He just never let others in on that secret.

      “I’m not Lucas,” he said with confidence. “I’ll get the deal with your grandfather.”

      “Don’t count on it,” she told him. “He’s very stubborn.”

      “You don’t know the Kings,” he said. “We invented stubborn.”

      She sighed and leaned toward him. The deeply scooped neckline of her sundress dipped, giving him a peek at her full breasts and just the smallest hint of a lacy bra. Sean reluctantly shifted his gaze to hers when she started speaking again.

      “If you really want the land, there’s a sure way to get it.”

      He shook his head and chuckled. Yeah, she was gorgeous, but he wasn’t in the market for a new woman in his life—let alone a wife. No, he’d complete this deal his way. And he wouldn’t need Melinda Stanford to do it. Chuckling again, he said, “The only way to get the land is by marrying you.”

      “Exactly.”

      He frowned. “You’re actually serious.”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Are you on medication?”

      “Not yet,” she muttered. Then louder, she said, “Look, my grandfather is on a campaign to see me married with babies at my feet.”

      Sean shuddered. Sure, his brothers and far too many of his cousins had been taking the marital plunge lately. Lucas just last year. But not Sean. Nope. Been there, done that, survived to tell the tale. Not that anyone in his family had ever heard about Sean’s thankfully brief trip into marriage hell.

      He wasn’t about to get married again.

      “Good luck with that,” he said and started to get up.

      She reached across the table and grabbed his hand.

      Instantly, heat sizzled where their palms met. Sean’s body responded to that heat in a blink. It caught him off guard, that flash of something … tantalizing. One look into her eyes told him she was as surprised as he was. And just as determined to ignore it. He could be attracted to a woman without doing anything about it. Hell, he hadn’t been led around by his dick since he was nineteen.

      Though … the heat was still there, so to avoid temptation, he pulled his hand free of her grip and told himself he didn’t miss that sweep of heat.

      “You could at least listen to me,” she said.

      Frowning now, Sean eased back down in his chair. Not that he was interested in what she had to say, but why take the risk of offending a member of the very family he’d come here to do business with? “Fine. Listening. Make it fast.”

      “Okay. Bottom line is, I want you to marry me.”

      “Yeah, I got that. Why?”

      “It makes sense.”

      “In which universe?”

      “You want the land for your cousin to build a hotel. I want a temporary husband.”

      “Temporary?”

      She laughed shortly and the sound was rich and musical. She shook her head until her soft, black hair floated around her like a dark halo. “Of course temporary. Did you think I was proposing a lifetime deal? To a man I’ve never met?”

      “Hey,” he reminded her, “you’re the one proposing before I even knew your name, so watch the insults.”

      “Fine.” She nodded, serious again. “Here’s the deal. When you meet with my grandfather, he’s going to suggest a merger/marriage.”

      “How СКАЧАТЬ