Inner Harbor. Lois Richer

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      Marriage.

      Russ might have walked away without a second thought, dismissed the whole idea as the romantic machinations of a delusional old man if he hadn’t had that last conversation with his grandfather, hadn’t felt the conviction in the old man’s voice that Annie Simmons was his soul mate. Hadn’t listened to his fervent prayer for Russ’s future happiness. Hadn’t received the letter.

      Even so, after the funeral, after the will had been read, he’d worked six ways through Sunday, unpacked his law books and plied every legal tactic he could remember to break that will, until finally he’d been forced to admit defeat. The will was unbreakable. Gramps would have it his way or Russ would lose his opportunity and break the trust his grandfather had placed in him. The latter would hurt far more than losing any money.

      He looked at Annie. She didn’t speak, didn’t say a word. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Russ shifted uncomfortably, tented his hands, then unfolded them and shoved them in his pockets.

      “So? What do you think?” he blurted, unable to keep silent a moment longer. He’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. He didn’t want to marry her, knew he couldn’t be what his grandfather had been to Gran. Annie didn’t need her life messed up by him. But Gramps—

      “I’m thinking that I need to get away from you.”

      “What? Why?” He ordered his mind to pay attention.

      “This is a quiet little town, Mr. Mitchard. People don’t walk into my bed-and-breakfast and suggest I marry them so that they can inherit an estate! It just doesn’t happen here.” The speech burst out of her as if it had been prepared some time ago.

      “It probably doesn’t happen anywhere else, either,” he admitted dryly. “My grandfather never did anything the ordinary way. He liked to be—original.” Okay, that was a vast understatement of the facts. He tried again.

      “The marriage wouldn’t have to be the ordinary kind of marriage, Annie.” He tried to comfort her. “It could be whatever we wanted—a business arrangement between us, if you like. I fully expect to split the inheritance with you, anyway. Gramps would have wanted that.”

      “Pay me, you mean? For marrying you?” She was outraged. “No.”

      Russ raked one hand through his hair and desperately wished his grandfather were here right now to explain what will-o’-the-wisp dream had engendered this situation in his fertile mind. Gramps knew exactly how little Russ wanted the responsibility for someone else’s happiness—anyone else’s. Apparently Annie felt the same way. He didn’t blame her.

      “No, not pay you.” He retracted the words, trying to find new ones as he stared into her angry face. “I just meant that I wouldn’t expect you to disrupt your life for nothing. I know this will inconvenience you.”

      “Inconvenience me? Getting married? Oh, perhaps just the teeniest bit, Mr. Mitchard.” She laughed, a sharp, grating sound that told him the state of her nerves. “This whole thing is impossible! He should have known that.”

      “Maybe.” Russ reached out a hand to stop her from leaving. “But it’s also reality.” And it got worse. Russ dredged up one last ounce of courage and laid it on the line. “I have to be married to you within the next three months.”

      If he had to wait that long, he’d give up. As it was, he’d had to summon every ounce of courage to ask someone he didn’t know to marry him. Only the memory of his grandfather’s whispered words pushed him forward. But Russ kept that knowledge to himself, silently chiding his grandfather for his manipulations. Bad enough Gramps had used him. But Annie? She seemed a sweet, innocent person. Why involve her in this?

      “Three months? Three years. The answer is the same. No.” She shook her head, her eyes huge as she leaned away from him, jerking her hand out from under his.

      “Annie, I’ve done everything I could think of to find some way around this, but the will stands.”

      “I don’t know about the will. I only know I’m not marrying you. I loved and respected your grandfather. I’d like to do as he asked. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to marry you.”

      Russ wasn’t crazy about marriage himself, but the way she said that made him feel like a slug. He wasn’t that bad, was he?

      “But—”

      “Forget it.” She jumped to her feet, grabbed her coffee cup and carried it to the sink. “No. No! No way.”

      “I see.” He frowned, tilted back on his chair and studied her, stuffing down his doubts. “What’s the problem? Is it me or just the general idea of marriage that you object to?”

      “Both!”

      “Ah.” So he didn’t appeal to her. Well, that was humbling, but probably good. Romance complicated things, and Russ had enough complications in his life. She was pretty and graceful and efficient, but he’d never intended to tie himself down. Responsibility was the one thing he always failed at. This wouldn’t be an emotional commitment, it would be business. “It wouldn’t have to be anything personal.”

      She choked. Russ moved to stand beside her.

      “That didn’t come out right,” he muttered. “I meant that it’s just—”

      “Business? Yes, I guessed you’d say that. Let me explain this to you.”

      He noted the way she smothered her emotions, her fingers clenching at her sides.

      “I’m not trying to be difficult,” she explained in a quiet voice. “I’d like to help you out, if I could. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal for you to want your inheritance.”

      He frowned. She did understand—at least as much as he’d told her. But it wasn’t the money—

      She read his face and rushed to finish. “I can’t help you. Not that way. I am not marrying you. Wharton shouldn’t have asked me.”

      “Asked you? But—” He stared at her, understanding dawning. She had known. “He wrote you?” Russ murmured.

      She nodded.

      “Yes. I didn’t get the letter until after he’d died. At first I didn’t connect you with his R.J.” She looked sad for a moment. “But this is not even up for discussion. I’m Drew’s temporary mother. Think about him. How would I explain such a thing to him? No. Drew needs security from me, not a whole new set of changes.” She shook her head vehemently, obviously appalled at the thought of being tied to Russ.

      “You said they’d found a relative.” Russ caught her frown of dismay. “You’ll only have yourself to think about when he leaves.”

      “I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

      Something on her face told him she didn’t want to contemplate Drew leaving. Why was that?

      The telephone broke the silence. Annie grabbed the receiver off the wall.

      “Hello?”

      “Annie.”

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