A Wife for One Year. Brenda Harlen

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      She could almost see the tension leak out of his body. She knew his eagerness to tie the knot had nothing to do with love or happily-ever-after but was an indication of how much he wanted to accept Josh Slater’s business proposition. For a five-million-dollar investment, he could be his friend’s partner in the ownership of a professional stock car racing team under the banner of Garrett/Slater Racing.

      “Are you sure?” he asked, giving her one last out.

      She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

      His brows lifted. “Do it?”

      Belatedly she remembered that they were lying side by side on a queen-size bed, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks.

      “Get married,” she clarified, ignoring the awareness that hummed through her veins.

      “Now?”

      “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

      “Sure,” he agreed. “But we only got off the plane half an hour ago. I thought you might want to relax a little, maybe indulge in some of the hotel spa services.”

      “I don’t think I’m going to be able to relax until this is done,” she admitted.

      “The wedding or the year?”

      She managed a smile. “The wedding,” she said, though she suspected the truth was both. The wedding was just a ceremony—a legal formality. Being married, presenting herself to their friends and families as Daniel Garrett’s wife for the next twelve months, was going to be the true test.

      “Did you want to at least go shopping first?”

      “Shopping?” She looked at him blankly.

      “The bellman mentioned there were shops downstairs, and since we’re getting married, I thought you might want to wear something a little more weddinglike.”

      She glanced down at her white capris and sleeveless blue top with the ruffled placket, but shook her head.

      His brows lifted. “No dreams of walking down the aisle in a white dress?”

      She didn’t let herself regret that she wasn’t going to have the wedding she’d dreamed about since she was a little girl, because this wasn’t a real wedding. “I don’t want to pretend this marriage is something it’s not.”

      “That’s exactly what we’re going to have to do,” he reminded her gently.

      “For everyone else,” she acknowledged. “But not between us.”

      He shrugged. “Okay, then. Let’s find a chapel.”

      He released her hand to pick up the tablet and found a link to a list of wedding venues—the number of which was astounding. And then there were countless ceremony options: traditional or themed, including disco, rock ’n’ roll, country and western, pirates, vampires and even zombies.

      “Kenna?” he prompted.

      “I’d have to say it’s a definite no with respect to pirates, vampires and zombies.”

      “How about walking down the aisle with Elvis?”

      She shook her head. “Is there anything a little more...normal?”

      He scrolled through a few more pages. “How about ‘Traditional Elegance’?” He read from the description: “‘This package offers a ceremony in our traditional chapel, with wedding music, bride’s six-rose bouquet, groom’s matching boutonniere, ten ceremony photos on CD, complimentary limousine service for the bride and groom to the marriage license bureau, and a witness, if required.’”

      “That sounds good.”

      “Except that we were supposed to call at least forty-eight hours in advance to inquire about availability.”

      “Call,” she suggested. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

      He sent her a slow, heated look that had no doubt caused numerous women to tumble into his bed. Thankfully, a decade of watching him in action had immunized her to his charm and techniques. Mostly, anyway.

      She smacked him in the arm. “Stop turning everything I say into a sexual innuendo.”

      “Stop saying things that sound like sex,” he countered.

      “You’re a guy—everything sounds like sex to you.”

      “Probably true,” he acknowledged unapologetically.

      She looked at him now, her expression serious. “I know you want to get married, but are you sure you want to marry me?”

      “I don’t really want to get married,” he reminded her. “But since that’s what I have to do, I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else.”

      “A year is a long time to go without sex,” she pointed out. “Especially for a man with a hedonistic reputation.”

      “My reputation is somewhat exaggerated.”

      “Somewhat?”

      “Maybe the real issue isn’t my reputation but that you don’t think you can hold out that long. Because if you’re suggesting an amendment to the terms of—”

      “No,” she said quickly, deliberately ignoring the leap of her pulse in response to his provocative statement.

      He just grinned.

      “I’m suggesting an amendment to the time frame,” she clarified. “Six months should be long enough to convince people we tried to make our marriage work but realized we were better off as friends.”

      “Maybe most people,” he acknowledged.

      She knew he was excluding his parents from that list, and she knew he was right. After refusing his request for access to his trust fund only a couple of months earlier, David and Jane Garrett would definitely have suspicions about their son’s sudden nuptials. And while she appreciated that Daniel didn’t like deceiving his parents, she didn’t understand how dragging the deception out over twelve months rather than six made it more palatable to him.

      “Call about the chapel,” she decided. “Let’s make sure today is day one of my three hundred and sixty-five as Mrs. Daniel Garrett.”

      * * *

      Daniel made the call.

      Fifteen minutes later they were picked up by a limo that took them to the marriage license bureau, then returned them to the hotel for the ceremony.

      When Kenna stepped inside the chapel, her breath actually caught in her throat.

      Her groom halted beside her. “Is something wrong?”

      “It’s...beautiful.”

      “Why do you sound so surprised?”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ