Just Married (More than Friends) Read online

  “I don’t expect anything in your life to change. Mine either.”

  She spun around so fast he stood up straighter, sure another slap was on her agenda. “You want to get married but you don’t want anything to change. Now you’re not only disrespecting me, you’re disrespecting marriage. A union I happen to believe in.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. He had to stop digging this hole he’d tossed himself into. “I’m going to start at the beginning.”

  She groaned and turned back to the mirror, tossing each tube and jar into her makeup bag after she used them. Not good.

  “I’m turning thirty-five tomorrow.”

  “If you are looking for a happy birthday from me, you can forget it. I’m not buying you pizza either. You hijacked my thirtieth birthday with all this ‘I’m getting married’ garbage.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her use of air quotes. It never got old. “There are stipulations in the family trust.”

  She cast him a glare through the mirror, a pot of golden powder in one hand and a tiny brush in the other. “Are you kidding me? I asked if you needed help: wills and trusts are what I do, Cal. You told me it didn’t matter because you wanted to release the Kerr estate to Dirk.”

  “That was my plan, until my bloody cousin got greedy. I need the Callum department stores, and I want Kentigern Castle.” She stopped swiping the shimmering powder across her lids long enough to roll her eyes.

  Miranda thought his pipe dream of renovating the ruined castle bordered on the insane, but she’d never once tried to talk him out of it the way so many others had. Maybe if he took her there, she’d see the amazing potential in the place, understand why the castle deserved more than what the last hundred years of Kerrs had done for it.

  “Dirk knew I’d sunk all my liquid capital into the renovations at Kentigern, so he knows I’m not in a position to negotiate.” He pushed a hand through his short hair, nearly dry now. “But the department stores do not belong to the Kerrs. They’re my mother’s. She earned them, and my father should have given them back to her thirty-five years ago.”

  A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Your father owned Callum’s? It’s the oldest department store chain still in operation. That goes back further than your parents.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “When my maternal grandparents died, it was in trouble. My mother saved it the only way she knew how. My father gave her an influx of cash, she gave him an heir. He probably never gave Callum’s back to her because he thought she’d leave him when he did. I hope he meant to do the right thing eventually; he just didn’t plan on dying.”

  “And I presume there is a marriage clause in this archaic family trust?”

  He nodded. “In order to guarantee a line of succession. It makes sense not to let a playboy inherit everything and squander it. Which is what Dirk plans to do. And because he has a son, there is nothing anyone can do to stop him from liquidating everything.”

  She clenched her jaw and pushed her straight brown hair behind her ears. “I suppose that’s what our condom-free adventure in the shower was all about, then. You need an heir and why not knock me up?” She snatched her birth control pills and shook them for effect before chucking them in her bag. “I’m on the pill, remember? We talked about it last month when I was in New York for the funeral and you kept ‘forgetting.’”

  Again with the air quotes. His cheeks lifted, but he schooled his expression. He would never have lived through that horrific week after his father passed if not for Miranda. She’d kept him sane, kept him from spiraling into dark places. He’d thought getting married might repay her for that somehow, but apparently she hadn’t even considered it. “I don’t think either of us have children on our to-do list. If Dirk wants any part of the Kerr estate, he’ll have to get it from Eamon. His son can take it over once I’m gone.”

  “Then why didn’t you just remove Callum’s and Kentigern from the trust and let Dirk have it all tomorrow?”

  “It hasn’t cleared probate.” Not to mention he couldn’t change any of the terms of the trust without a male heir. But none of the technicalities mattered if he couldn’t persuade Mira to help him save his mother’s legacy.

  “Damn it, Cal. I could have fixed this.” Her eyes blazed with amber fire. He hoped it was makeup magic and not her ire burning hotter.

  “You still can.”

  “Oh, no. I came here to ‘convince’ you not to make a huge mistake. Now, you’re asking me to make it with you. We’ll find a nice, rational way out of this.”

  He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “In seven hours, on a Friday?”

  She stomped her foot and turned to face him, mascara wand in hand. “Why didn’t you tell me about this mess sooner?”

  “Because Dirk only went rogue on me three days ago. I had it worked out, and then he changed the rules.”

  She pursed her lips and picked up the hair dryer, flicking it on and drowning him out. Fine, he needed to think anyway. He picked up his clothes from the floor, brainstorming ways to get her to agree. If he couldn’t, he’d be saddled with buying a bride.

  His blood chilled and he shivered. He didn’t have a backup plan, and losing his mother’s stores was not an option. There was only one thing he could think to do, and it wasn’t something he had any experience with.

  Tears stung her eyes, so she blinked and kept drying her hair until she knew she wouldn’t actually cry. What was wrong with him? Had she really taught him to treat her like this? Like a place card at a dinner party that could be shuffled around as it suited him?

  He wanted to marry her, which had sent her flying over the moon for a split second before crash landing her back on earth. He hadn’t even considered her feelings. He’d teased her about marrying someone else, brought her to Las Vegas under false pretenses, and planned on parading her down the aisle with their closest friends watching. She’d grilled them all about who they thought he was marrying on the flight here. Talk about looking like a fool.

  When his father died and he’d called, she’d left as soon as she could, and stayed an entire week. There had been hell to pay at work when she got back, but she’d done it because he’d needed her, needed someone to hold him up. He’d spent the week medicating the pain with sex, and maybe somewhere in the middle of it he’d thought it meant she’d become his puppet.

  She turned off the dryer and stood up, catching his reflection in the mirror as he buttoned up his black shirt. Her heart squeezed for how confused he looked, but it didn’t make her feel any less manipulated.

  “I have to get married, tonight.” His throat undulated as he swallowed.

  “Have fun with that.” She stepped to the closet and slid her cinnamon-brown wrap dress from its hanger.

  “Mira, please. Everything is set up. A limo picks us up in a few hours to file the forms at the courthouse, then brings us back here for the ceremony.”

  “At eight o’clock. I know because I got your agenda in my inbox yesterday like everyone else.” She shrugged the robe to the floor and slipped into the dress, smoothing the cotton knit against her skin before tying it.

  “I couldn’t tell you any sooner.”

  She turned to face him, wishing that slapping some sense into him earlier had worked. “No, you could have; you didn’t want to. You could have called me as soon as Dirk got greedy.”

  “Dirk has no legal obligation to sell me Kentigern or Callum’s. The castle I could deal with, but my name is on the front of every one of those stores. My mother has devoted her life to the brand. I’m not going to let anyone take that from her just because I don’t want a wife.”

  “You should have told me. I could have taken care of it.”

  “There was no time for you to get up to speed on Scottish inheritance law or the differences between probate in New York and Washington. Had I known he’d pull this, I would have asked for your help. But I didn’t.”

  “And why didn’t you tell me about your little marr
iage plan, hmm?” She laid the sarcasm on thick.

  “Because you would have talked me out of it.”

  She threw up her hands in complete exasperation. “You don’t want a wife and you knew I’d think this is a bad idea . . . so why are we here?”

  He sat down on the large bed, his black clothes contrasting with the white bedding as he rubbed the hem of the gown between his fingers. “I don’t want a wife I have to take care of and I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. I can’t marry a woman who is going to try to create a family life we both know I’d be awful at. I don’t want to disappoint someone like that. And my mother’s list of prospects was filled with women who would try to trap me in that world.”

  Mira cleared her throat, hating that his mother had obviously never even thought to consider her. But then, it seemed neither did Cal, not really.

  “I don’t need a wife in that sense, just like you don’t have time to play the role. I don’t want to be a husband, just married.”

  She shook her head and reached for her sandals. She joined him on the bed as she slipped them on. “Why in the world would you think that I would want to do this?”

  “Because our separate lives will stay exactly the same. We’re both too invested in our careers to let that slide. But, long weekends and vacations, holidays and parties, we get together. And because I asked you to.”

  “Actually, you never did. You assumed I would leap at the chance.”

  “Do you really want to do someone’s laundry, pay their bills, and cook their meals? Remember to get their mother a birthday present? Give up sleeping in the middle of the bed?”

  The last one made her cheek twitch in an almost grin. “You have a sitcom view of marriage.”

  “I want us to write the rules of our own marriage, update it to suit us. Wouldn’t it be nice to get together whether we have an excuse to get together or not? Maybe go on a vacation?”

  She turned to look at him, taking in the serious expression in his light brown eyes. “You haven’t taken a vacation since law school.”

  “Neither have you.”

  She shrugged; he had her there. “We can do that without getting married. Marriage means something to me.”

  “Like what? Tell me, and we’ll work it out.”

  “First of all, marriage is not a contract negotiation.” She rose from the bed and walked to the vanity to spritz on her perfume. “It’s commitment and fidelity and partnership.” And love, but she didn’t dare say it.

  “Doll, you’re overthinking this. We’ve been friends for nearly a decade, that’s commitment. And last month we both admitted we haven’t been with anyone else in a long while. That’s fidelity. And without you at the funeral I would have been an angry mess. If that isn’t partnership, I don’t know what is. And we have something you forgot to mention.” He stood and crossed the room toward her. “Passion.”

  Heat crept up her chest, throat, cheeks. She turned around and held up her hand. “Hold it right there. A partner would have clued me in to this plan, not ambushed me with it. Would have trusted me enough to share what was going on, and respected me enough to give me a chance to make a decision.”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “I’m sorry I went about this the wrong way. I was thinking it would make a great story, that without too much time to think it would be easier for you to say yes. You’re the smartest person I know, and I’m trusting you to know your own mind. Do you want to marry me?”

  4

  She should have flat-out lied. Cal didn’t need to know that she liked the idea of being married to him; his ego might explode and she’d be a widow before she’d been a bride. Instead, she’d told him she’d decide by the time they had to catch the limo to the courthouse.

  Let him live in the world of uncertain futures for a moment; she had a date with the other unsuspecting wedding guests at the spa. It was on the detailed wedding itinerary he’d emailed all of them, so it wasn’t like he’d be too panicked about where she was while he played poker with the guys. Not that she should care so much about his feelings when he didn’t seem bothered to think of hers.

  Miranda lifted a bottle of nail polish from the rack and nearly dropped it as she read the name for the pale pink color. JUST MARRIED. For goodness’ sake.

  “I like that for fingers.” Tina sidled next to her, holding a deep plum and bright tangerine. They got pedicures together all the time at home in Seattle since they both were big believers in toe color. “How about Mandarin Mayhem for your toes?”

  “I think I’m going to step outside my comfort zone and go neutral.” She reached for a taupe shade and almost groaned. HONEYMOON.

  Helen laughed so loud half the heads in the tranquil spa turned. “You always have wild toes. Look.” Helen kicked her foot in the spa-provided flip-flops. “Zebra stripes.”

  A very pregnant Molly waddled over to them. “I’m not getting crazy toes if you’re not. The last time Anna picked the jeweled flower off and put it in her mouth. I panicked.”

  Miranda slipped an arm around her friend. “No Anna this weekend, so no worries.” She looked at the other women in their matching terrycloth robes and smiled. She’d known Molly since college, Tina and Helen since law school, and Kristin completed the mix when Sean married her last year. After her parents’ death in her teens, Mira had longed to have a family again. Now, she did, just not in the traditional sense.

  Who needed a conventional marriage when you could define marriage the way you did family? On your own terms. Maybe Cal had a point.

  Helen held up two sparkling shades. “At least go for some glitter. How will we recognize your toes if they are boring?”

  She took the shimmering beige shade. CHAMPAGNE TOAST. Of course. She set the other polishes back in the rack, deciding on the pale pink. “Sometimes the biggest rebellion is doing the most traditional of things.”

  “Tell Cal that. I can’t believe he’s getting married.” Tina tucked her short hair behind her ears, the pixie cut highlighting her big, green eyes. “I hope the guys can talk him out of it. That’s Dave’s strategy.”

  Helen nodded. “Bert too. I’m as taken by whirlwind romances as the next girl, but this whole thing seems off.”

  “Rob says he has a plan.” Molly waved her hand at the hostess to let her know they were ready.

  Tina smirked. “To kidnap Cal? Dave considered it, but we decided against any punishable crime now that Bert is a councilman. Damned politicians.”

  Guilt gnawed at her stomach. She should tell her friends they didn’t need to worry about anyone taking advantage of Cal. But that would mean she’d made her decision, and she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she had. They’d sense that and talk her out of it, and Cal was just determined enough to create a nightmare by marrying a random woman instead. She pushed a hand into her hair, scratching her nails against her scalp.

  “Mira, it’s going to be okay.” Helen rubbed her arm. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”

  She straightened, spooked by the comment. She and Cal had been discreet to the point of ridiculous. Even sitting beside him at the funeral hadn’t raised a single eyebrow among their friends. They didn’t know, did they?

  Tina tightened the belt on her robe. “Cal’s timing stinks on ice. Don’t think we’ve gone all Sixteen Candles and forgotten your thirtieth. We’ll do your birthday up right when we get back to Seattle.”

  “Men never think,” Helen said. “That’s why they get married, to have someone do the thinking for them.”

  They all laughed as the hostess led them to the massage chairs circling a fish tank. Mira reclined in her chair and slipped her feet into the bubbling warm water. The spa smelled like the ocean, only cleaner.

  “You know what I think?” Tina asked.

  Mira leaned forward, desperate for insight. After a few frustrating years at the DA’s office, Tina had become a jury profiler. Her observations always came with some perceptive insight everyone else missed.
r />   “Cal is confronting his own mortality after the death of his father. Mark my words, he’ll have a baby in under a year.” She shared a grin with Molly. “Something to make him feel connected to the future again. This woman will be more maternal than we’d ever imagined for him. Maybe someone like his mother.”

  Except Cal’s mother was anything but maternal. Mira leaned back in her seat, not wanting to share how much she knew about the tenuous relationship between mother and son.

  Bridie had been married to Hamish Kerr for thirty-five years, yet in the week after his death she didn’t try to comfort their only child. Instead she’d wanted to talk business. It had been almost as hard to watch as when Cal had to make the funeral arrangements alone. Mira had made most of the decisions herself, as he’d sat in numb silence.

  No wonder Cal sought out a marriage of convenience; he was the product of one. A family tradition she’d be supporting if she agreed to marry him. But what choice did she have? Let him marry someone else? Or be the reason he lost the thing that meant the most to him?

  Cal stood beside the black limousine, the insidious Nevada heat swirling through the exhaust-filled air in the covered area at the entrance to the hotel. The driver stood at attention as shuttle buses and taxis moved through. He checked the obsidian face of his watch for the third time and his stomach sank.

  Mira was never late. She’d jilted him, leaving him standing beside the limo for any of their friends to find if they happened to step outside. Thank goodness for the heat.

  He’d managed to evade the guys by distracting them with a poker lesson from a pro. Until he knew Miranda would come through, he didn’t want to see or talk to anyone who might remind him of the absurdity of his predicament.

  Time alone in a honeymoon suite that smelled like roses only served to dampen his mood. If Miranda refused, his mother would lose the company she’d sold her soul to save. And it would be his fault for not forcing the issue with his father, and for trusting Dirk to do the right thing.