A Wedded Arrangement (Convenient Marriages, #3) Page 3

  Her breath hitched slightly at the clench of desire between her legs from the erotic texture of his voice, and she prayed he hadn’t been able to hear the shift in her breathing. “You would think that. And you would be wrong. Remember, the Beast turned out to have a very soft heart, and no one could make that mistake with you. It’s a good thing I don’t believe in Prince Charmings.”

  “Don’t you? What about your pretty high school crush over there?”

  How Lance had discovered her long-ago infatuation for Carter she’d never known. She’d never told a soul. Not even her best friends. It had felt like a defeat to admit she liked a rich boy that way. But Lance had somehow figured it out, and he’d never forgotten that she used to daydream about Carter Wilson.

  She met his eyes with a bland smile. “He is pretty, isn’t he?”

  Lance’s lips tightened for just a few seconds, so she figured she’d scored a point.

  Her timing was perfect because the mayor walked across the stage just then, signaling the beginning of the concert. She and Lance took their seats. She drank the wine and ate most of the food off the plate, reluctantly sharing it with Lance when he reached over for a couple of grapes and one of the petits fours.

  He kept his arm draped over the back of her chair most of the time—he was touchier than normal tonight—and the warmth of it through the fabric of her dress was highly disturbing. The music was good, but she was glad when the intermission came and she could stretch her legs.

  And take a short break from the closeness of Lance’s body.

  IT WAS JUST AFTER ELEVEN when they returned to the condo. Savannah slid off her heels and grabbed a sparkling water from the refrigerator before she took her normal place on one of the stools at the island and checked her messages.

  She sighed when she saw the one from her mom, and she immediately pulled up a search she’d already started for used cars that met her parents’ needs and were in their price range.

  She’d been looking for almost half an hour when Lance came out of his bedroom.

  He’d changed clothes and taken a shower. She knew because he smelled like soap and wore nothing but a pair of dark gray sleep pants. They were the kind he always wore to bed. Not regular cotton or flannel, but some sort of soft, thin material that clung to the lines of his body and rode low on his lean hips, revealing the flat muscles of his abs and an occasional hint of dark hair when the waistband dipped too low.

  Her eyes crawled over him greedily as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, but she managed to look back down at her phone before he turned around.

  “You’re still dressed. Juicy messages from Prince Charming to answer?” He unscrewed the bottle top and took a swig.

  She gave him a perfunctory eye roll before she focused on her search again. “Definitely. But don’t ask me to share the steamy details. These texts would make you blush for sure.”

  That felt like a good enough retort to pass, so she scrolled down the listings on her phone, making a face as she saw the choices.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked after a minute.

  She’d expected him to head for his bedroom. He got up early most mornings, so he usually didn’t stay up all that late. But he’d leaned against the counter to drink his water and was obviously watching her.

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s either something or you’re about to go through a painful breakup with your phone.”

  She exhaled and slumped against the island, putting down her phone and giving up. He was way too observant to lie to, so she usually didn’t try. “I’m looking for a used car for my folks, and I’m not having much luck.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “They aren’t picky about the make and model, but they only have four thousand dollars saved up to spend on it, and everything in that price range that would work for them is a piece of junk.”

  He rubbed his chest idly. “Can’t you help them up the budget some?”

  “I could, yes, but they won’t let me. I already paid off their mortgage and debt, and they won’t let me help with this too.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they feel like they’re taking advantage of me. It doesn’t matter how much I tell them they’re not. They’re not going to budge on this.”

  “I can definitely see where you got your stubbornness about money from. I’ve never seen people refuse to take a gift when it’s offered.”

  “You’ve never seen it because you’ve been surrounded by rich people your entire life. Can you really not imagine people not wanting to feel like a charity case? Is it so hard to believe someone wouldn’t take an unnecessary car when the one they have works just fine?” She was referring to her own car. They’d argued for a month about his wanting to buy her a new car when they got married. She ended up winning that particular debate.

  “But obviously your parents’ car isn’t working just fine if they need a new one.”

  “They do. The transmission went, and the car isn’t worth the cost of fixing it.”

  “And you can’t find any used cars for four thousand dollars?”

  “There are some, but they’re small cars, so they wouldn’t work for my parents. They’ve got bad backs and bad hips and bad knees and everything. They need a larger car with seats that are higher and easier to get into. Like a small SUV or a minivan or a larger sedan where the seats aren’t so low to the ground.”

  Lance had brought his phone into the kitchen with him, and he started looking at something on it while she talked, so she wasn’t sure whether he was paying attention or not.

  She didn’t really care. She never would have explained this situation to him under normal circumstances.

  But he’d asked. The least he could do was listen to her answer.

  When he seemed absorbed with his phone, she got up to leave, feeling ridiculously disappointed by his distraction.

  “Hold on a minute,” he muttered, raising a hand to gesture her to stay. He was putting his phone to his ear as she watched.

  She waited, frowning and confused.

  “Hey,” he said in the casual tone he always used with his friends. “Sorry it’s so late. But I saw you at the concert tonight, so I thought I’d take a chance you were still awake.” There was a pause while the person on the other end of the call replied. Then Lance continued, “So do you still have that old Lincoln sitting in your garage?”

  She blinked. She was standing like an idiot beside her stool with her mouth hanging open slightly.

  “That’s what I thought,” Lance went on after another pause. “How’d you like to get rid of it? My wife’s parents are looking for a car, and it might work for them. ... Yeah, they’re not looking for a new car. They just want something that’s more comfortable for them to get in and out of. ... No, of course I’m not expecting you to give it to them. They’d give you thirty-five hundred.”

  She started to object since their budget was higher than that, but Lance put a hand up to silence her. She wasn’t in the habit of staying quiet just because he wanted her to, but he was doing something for her right now, so she didn’t argue.

  “Okay, fine. They might be willing to swing four thousand, but they don’t want to go over that.”

  Savannah held her breath as the other person replied. This really couldn’t be happening. She’d been expecting weeks of painful searching before she found any car that would work at all.

  Lance was still on the phone. “Great. Four thousand. They could probably come over tomorrow to check it out if that works for you. If they like it, they can give you a check right then.” He arched his eyebrows at her in a wordless question, which she answered with a nod. “Great. It’s settled. I’ll give them Gina’s number, and they’ll call about when to come over. Thanks a lot.”

  When he disconnected the call, Savannah was hugging her arms to her chest. Her throat was tight, and her breathing was fast, and she had absolutely no idea what to say.

  Lance chu
gged some more of his water before he said, “It’s an old Town Car. His mother used to drive it before she died. It’s got almost no mileage on it at all.”

  “A Lincoln Town Car with low mileage has got to be worth more than four thousand dollars.” Her voice was far too raspy.

  “Probably, but they’ve been wanting to get rid of it for ages now, and a couple thousand won’t make any difference to them. It’ll probably be a good car for your folks.”

  “It sounds perfect. I can’t believe you just made a call and got it.”

  He shrugged. He was glancing away like he was self-conscious. “You know.”

  “No, I actually don’t know. I’ve never once made a call like you just made.”

  “No big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to my parents.”

  He wasn’t meeting her eyes. He was drinking more water. When he swallowed, he said, “I’ll give you the number to give to your parents. They’ll probably be able to take it home tomorrow if they like it.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  He lifted his gaze at last, and they stared at each other for a few moments. Then he shrugged again and started to head for his bedroom.

  “Hey, Carlyle,” she called after him.

  He paused, then slowly turned to face her.

  “Thanks.”

  He gave a little flip of his hand as acknowledgment of her words before he turned to walk away.

  Two

  ON FRIDAY OF THAT WEEK, Savannah slept later than usual, so she didn’t have time to sit around drinking coffee and checking the world out on her phone the way she normally did. Grumbling about the inexplicable cruelty of people who made eight-thirty appointments to get their portraits done, she turned on the shower as soon as she got out of bed.

  Her normal daily routine was fairly low maintenance. She only washed her hair every three or four days since it was long, thick, and tended toward dryness. Plus it took a major effort to blow it out straight and smooth the way she liked. She didn’t dress up for work, and she wore only minimal makeup, so it rarely took her more than half an hour to get showered and ready for the day, except on blow-dry mornings.

  But this wasn’t one of those days, so it was just after eight when she made it to the kitchen for coffee, and she was relieved to discover Lance had already made a pot in the high-end brewer. She filled up a travel mug, grabbed one of the homemade granola bars that Lance’s housekeeper baked every week, and then decided she could use some vitamin C. She reached into the refrigerator for the juice, only to discover the carafe was basically empty.

  Their orange juice was fresh squeezed, of course, and came in a glass jar. Because it was clear, it was usually easy to see how much was left, but it had gotten pushed behind the milk and a couple of half-drunk bottles of white wine, so she didn’t know it was empty until she pulled it out.

  She stared in outrage at the small amount of orange liquid swirling at the bottom of the jar.

  “Mornin’,” Lance said from behind her. He came striding into the kitchen, looking obnoxiously handsome in a pair of tailored charcoal-gray trousers and a black crewneck sweater. He usually wore suits to work, but he must not have any appointments with clients that morning. They were leaving for the wedding midafternoon, and he probably didn’t want to have to change out of a suit. “Something wrong with the juice?”

  “Yes, there’s something wrong with it. You put it back in the refrigerator when it was empty.”

  He was filling a travel mug with coffee, but he glanced over his shoulder to scan the bottle she still held. “It’s not empty.”

  “It might as well be.”

  “Maria is coming today. She’ll restock the refrigerator.”

  “But I was going to have a glass right now. Why would you put an empty container back in the refrigerator?”

  “It’s not empty.” His eyebrows were lifted just slightly in a typical Lance look. Superior and slightly annoyed. “There’s half a glass left in there. Why would I have wasted it?”

  “This is one sip. Not half a glass.”

  He let out an exasperated exhale and reached up to grab a small juice glass off a shelf. Then he stepped over so he was right in front of her, took the juice out of her hand, and poured the remainder into the glass.

  In the morning, right after he showered, was the only time of day when his hair was tamed into some sort of order. He always combed it back neatly while it was damp, like maybe he actually thought it would stay where he put it. He looked sleeker—harder, just slightly dangerous—without the thick auburn curls in wild disorder around his face. He also smelled way too good. Clean and expensive and somehow better than men were supposed to smell. She breathed him in but didn’t let it distract her from her justifiable indignation.

  He handed her the glass with a pointed expression. It wasn’t half, but it was close.

  She swallowed the juice down in one gulp. It was a much bigger swallow than she normally would have taken, but she had an argument to win just now. “One sip.”

  He met her eyes directly, and they held the gaze as an unspoken challenge. Then—damn him—the corner of his mouth twitched up, and he let out a huff so soft she barely heard it.

  But she knew what it was.

  Scowling, she set the juice glass in the sink and grabbed her coffee and granola bar. “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s kind of funny. Are we secretly a couple from a sitcom?”

  She was struggling not to laugh in response to the irrepressible amusement in his eyes, but that just made her more annoyed. Damn the man. Making her laugh just when she was about to win an argument. “I know you’re used to thinking only of yourself, but it would be nice if you’d acknowledge that I live here too and that putting mostly empty containers back into the refrigerator is rude and insensitive.”

  “I must be growing on you. It wasn’t so long ago that you assumed I could never be anything except rude and insensitive.” He took his coffee and walked with her to the entryway of the condo. He was smiling for real now. Looking way to cocky. Like he’d somehow come out of this encounter the winner.

  He hadn’t.

  She slid on the pair of black ankle boots she’d been wearing the day before and had left by the door. They pulled together her slim-cut black pants and gray sweater. She wanted to look decent since they’d be driving up to Virginia later for the wedding.

  Lance had been putting his shoes on too, but now he was scanning her out of the corner of his eye.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “We match today.” His mouth quirked up again.

  She looked down at herself. And then over at him. He was right. The colors were reversed, but they were both wearing the same shades of gray and black.

  Her belly fluttered with a flurry of butterflies. For no reason at all.

  She reached down for her leather bag on the floor and tried to think of something clever to say.

  “It can only work to our benefit,” Lance continued. “People will really believe we’re growing into an old married couple.”

  “Oh, shut up and stop smirking. And don’t think you’re forgiven about the orange juice.”

  As retorts went, that wasn’t one of her best, but it was all she could manage at the moment.

  SHE FINISHED WITH HER appointments by eleven, so she headed to her parents’ house to take them out to lunch and then help put up their laundry. Her parents were good about tidying up after themselves, but they could no longer handle the heavy housecleaning, so she went over at least once a week to help them out with it. And she often did odd jobs for them like folding shirts, which was difficult for her mother because of her bad shoulder.

  When they finished, her mother insisted she stay for a cup of tea and some cookies. Savannah wasn’t hungry after lunch, but she didn’t need to be back at the condo until two, which would give her plenty of time to pack for the trip, so she sat at the kitchen table and waited until her mother came over with two steaming mugs and a plat
e of grocery-store chocolate-chunk cookies.

  “Thank you for helping with those shirts,” her mother said. She was exactly Savannah’s height and had been plump all her life. She’d long since regained the weight she’d lost while she was on chemo, and she looked like herself again with gray hair and a mostly unlined, smiling face. “But you know you never have to do things like that for us.”

  “I know. You tell me every single time.”

  “But I worry that we put too much on you. I hope you don’t feel pressure to—”

  “Mom, please stop. I don’t feel pressure. I only do what I want to do. If I didn’t want to help y’all out, I just wouldn’t.” Savannah’s voice was light and casual. Her mother was just as unsentimental as she was and just as averse to conversation that was too emotionally intense.

  “But you have your own place to take care of.”

  She snorted. “Lance’s housekeeper comes in twice a week and does everything. There’s no housework for me to do at all there.”

  “Maybe. But you’re sure you’d tell us if we ask too much of you?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Because I know you’d rather be out in California, making your dreams come true and—”

  At that, Savannah couldn’t help but laugh. “You know as well as I do that my dreams of making Oscar-winning movies were never going to come true.”

  “But you gave up a great job—”

  “I gave up a decent job but not a dream job. I probably could have moved up the ladder there, but it still wouldn’t have been what I dreamed about. I liked that job just fine, but I like what I’m doing now too.” She took a bite of cookie before she added, “Being happy doesn’t mean having all your dreams come true. If it did, we’d all need to be billionaires and married to bearded Chris Evans. I want to be close to the people I love and have a job that lets me do what I’m good at. Right now that means being here and doing this.”

  Her mom reached over to pat her arm, which was as physically affectionate as she got. “I’m glad you think that now, because you spent your childhood trying to get out of Green Valley. I always understood why. Don’t think I don’t know how hard it was for you to be surrounded by so many kids who got everything they wanted without trying while you had to work so hard for everything and still not always get what you deserved.”