Summer Brides: Bride Wanted / Hasty Wedding. Debbie Macomber

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      Julia remembered a time, long past, when she’d been a child and a fierce thunderstorm had raged in the dead of night. Terrified, she’d raced down the hallway to Ruth’s room and slipped into bed with her. Even then she’d known that was the safest place in all the world for her to be.

      That security had always been with her. Soon she would lose her anchor, the person who’d guided and loved her. Ruth had never asked anything of her before. Julia didn’t know how she could refuse now.

      Julia’s request came as no surprise. Aleksandr had been waiting for it since the scene in her office the day before. If he lived to be a wise, old man he doubted he’d ever understand this country he’d come to love. Nor was he likely to understand Julia Conrad. She was a woman encased in frost, a woman with a wounded soul. He’d recognized this from the moment they’d met. She was uncomfortable with him; he knew that from the way she avoided eye contact. He hadn’t had much contact with her, and he suspected she preferred to communicate through her brother.

      Julia’s assistant let him into the office and announced his arrival. Julia was sitting at her desk writing. When he entered the room, she glanced up and smiled.

      “Please, sit down,” she said politely, motioning toward the chair on the other side of her desk. “I hope I’m not interrupting your work.”

      For a few seconds Aleksandr didn’t trust himself to speak. Her pain was closer to the surface than ever before, almost visible beneath the facade she’d erected.

      “I’m never too busy for you, Ms. Conrad,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

      Her features seemed perfect to him, her beauty so flawless it was chilling. He noted that her creamy skin was flushed but her eyes dark and clear as they studied him with equal interest.

      “I thought it might be a good idea if we talked,” she suggested haltingly.

      He nodded. “About my work?”

      She hesitated. Not answering, she stood and moved away from him, carefully placing herself in the shadows where it was more difficult to read her expression.

      “Tell me how your experiments are progressing,” she said, her hands clasped behind her back. He sensed her reserve—and her tension.

      Aleksandr was well aware from the notes he’d received from her that Julia had read and understood his weekly reports. Nevertheless he humored her. The additives he’d been working on for Conrad paints had impressive capabilities. His first innovation had been a simple one. Once an exterior surface was painted, if the owner wished a different color at some later date, all he or she needed to do was wash the surface with another solution, one that would be available only through Conrad Industries. It was an approach that would work on homes, cars and lawn furniture.

      His second innovation had been just as successful so far. He’d developed a blend of chemicals that, when applied to a surface, would completely remove the old paint. No more scraping or heating it. A spray of the solution would dissolve it away with a minimum of effort, without harmful effects or harsh chemicals to damage the environment.

      Aleksandr gave Julia a detailed description of his most recent experiments. He regretted that he wouldn’t be with Conrad Industries to see his work come to fruition, but there was nothing more he could do. He was sorry to be leaving America, especially since there was still such poverty and upheaval in his homeland.

      He paused, awaiting her response.

      “You’re very close, then.”

      “Within a few months,” he guessed.

      Her brows arched with what he assumed was surprise and delight. Both emotions quickly left her expression as she looked away. Her eyes avoided his, and Aleksandr wondered privately how many hearts she’d broken. She held herself distant, the unattainable prize of many a man, the untouchable dream of loveliness.

      “Aleksandr.” She spoke with a casual familiarity, although as far as he could recall, it was the first time she’d addressed him by his first name. “We have a problem…as you know.”

      She moved toward him, her eyes wide, and when she spoke again it was in a whisper. “We’re too close to lose everything now. I can’t let it happen. My brother…came up with a solution.”

      Aleksandr’s mind churned with confusion. She couldn’t possibly be considering Jerry’s suggestion that they get married, could she? Only a day earlier she’d scoffed at her brother for even mentioning something so preposterous. Alek hadn’t been given a chance to comment.

      “I’ve been thinking about Jerry’s idea,” she continued demurely, glancing over her shoulder at him as she returned to her desk. “It seems marriage is our only solution.”

      Aleksandr wasn’t fooled by her demeanor; there wasn’t a shy, retiring bone in that delectable body of hers. Julia Conrad was too proud and stubborn to play the role well. But there was no limit to her determination.

      “Of course you’d be well compensated for your…contribution to Conrad Industries. Even more than we’re currently paying you. We’d be happy to double your salary. Naturally it wouldn’t be a real marriage, and when you’ve finished with your work, we’d obtain a quiet divorce. If you’re agreeable, I’ll have Jerry draw up a prenuptial agreement for us to sign.”

      Aleksandr was convinced that if there’d been any other way to solve the problem, Julia would have opted for it. She was offering him a pretend marriage, followed by a discreet divorce.

      He frowned, disliking the fact that she was trying to bribe him with money. His wages were already far beyond what he could ever hope to make in Russia. Much of what he earned now he sent to his family, while he lived as frugally as possible.

      “I understand there are several members of your family still in Russia,” she said cautiously. “We might be able to help them immigrate to the States if we did decide to go ahead with this marriage.”

      At his silence, Julia added, “If that’s something you’d care to consider—bringing your immediate family into the country. Is it?” she prompted.

      Aleksandr’s voice was strained when he spoke. “My sister is unmarried and lives with my mother, who is a widow.” Unable to remain seated, he stood and walked to the window, his back to her. He felt a strong desire to take Julia in his arms, but he was painfully aware that there was no warmth in her, nor would she welcome his touch.

      For two years Aleksandr had studied Julia Conrad. Outwardly she was often arrogant and sometimes sarcastic. But she wasn’t entirely capable of hiding her softer side. Every now and then he caught puzzling, contradictory glimpses of her. She cared deeply for her employees and was often generous to a fault. Then there’d been the day, shortly after Alek had come to America, when he’d seen Julia with her grandmother.

      Julia’s facade had melted away that afternoon. If Alek hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed such a transformation was possible. Julia had glowed with joy and pride as she gave her grandmother a tour of the rebuilt facilities. Alek had watched from a distance—and had held on to that image of her ever since.

      Marriage. He sighed inwardly. His religion didn’t accept divorce and he refused to sacrifice his life and his happiness for a business proposition.

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