Hitched! Page 6

  “Not so fast. I haven’t given up yet.”

  She waited, her heart in her throat.

  Suddenly his eyes widened. “Why didn’t I see this before? We have to really get married. That should be easy in Mexico, and equally easy to get unmarried once we’ve achieved our ends.”

  Maxine gasped. “You can’t be serious. When I get married it will be once and for all.”

  “This won’t count against that,” he argued, “because this will be a business arrangement.”

  “You just said—”

  “It will be legal but not real, in that we won’t really be husband and wife.”

  “Meaning no sex and I wouldn’t have to live with you?” Blunt but precise.

  “Meaning no sex but you would have to make what Trey called the ‘grand family tour’ to convince everyone concerned that we’re married and madly in love. Then you can do anything you want to do, with my blessings.”

  She regarded him for a moment in silence, her heart throbbing erratically. She had never expected anything like this, even in her wildest imaginings. Finally she said, “Isn’t that kind of a dirty trick?”

  He obviously didn’t want to consider that aspect, but she’d forced the issue. “I guess it might look that way,” he said slowly, “but…my back’s to the wall, Maxine. There are complications you know nothing about.”

  “Go on.”

  “Not now. Look.” He hauled out his checkbook. “Let’s be businesslike about this. I want to hire you for a maximum of…say, one month? That should be enough time to do what I have to.”

  “Hire me?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “That’s right. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars now and another twenty if we pull this off and I get my inheritance.”

  She gasped. “What makes you think I can be bought?”

  “You’re out of a job, right? Besides, I don’t want to buy you. I just want to rent you for a little while. What do you say?”

  “Give me a minute to think.” She pressed her palms to her temples. “If I do this—and I’m not saying I will—there will be absolutely no sex.”

  His expression said he had absolutely no interest in her that way. “No sex. Agreed.”

  “Put it in writing.”

  “Sorry, no can do. You’ll have to trust me on that.”

  “Why should I? Why should you trust me?”

  He eyed her solemnly. “Maxine,” he said slowly, “I always go with my first impressions. My first impression of you is that you’re a woman who can be trusted. I liked the way you handled yourself on that airplane and the way you stood up for yourself when we had to share that room. As Great-grandpa Taggart would say, ‘Girl, you got spunk!’”

  She couldn’t return that smile. “I suppose your first impressions are always right.”

  “I wish. Sometimes you just have to go on faith.” He put out his hand. “Is it a deal?”

  She looked at that hand in panic. She’d never bargained for anything like this, but maybe it was a golden opportunity. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and slipped her hand into his for the briefest of shakes.

  “Rand Taggart,” she said, “you’re out of your mind—but okay, I’ll go along for the ride. We’ll have to do some homework. I’ll have to know everything there is to know about you.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. First we have to get married. It’s supposed to be easy in Mexico, right? Where should we go to?”

  “Rosarito Beach,” she said promptly, a plan popping into her head full-blown. “It’s just a few miles south and there’s a wonderful old hotel I…I’ve visited before.”

  He shrugged as if it didn’t much matter so long as they did the deed. “Works for me. I’ll rent a car and tell the authorities we won’t be flying out this afternoon with the rest of the hijackees.”

  “I’ll call the hotel. I can make reservations and see what’s involved in arranging a wedding.”

  Rand nodded, his expression a blank. Was he as shocked as she was to be involved in such a scheme?

  WHEN IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED, events proceeded with such smoothness that he never did get his bearings.

  The drive south on a paved and well-maintained highway passed in a blur. After being welcomed with smiles and champagne at the stately old beachfront hotel, they were escorted upstairs to a lavish suite overseeing a pool, the beach and the ocean. An official-looking gentleman waited for them there. He declared himself to be from the Oficina del Registro Civil, whatever the hell that was, and launched into some long explanation in Spanish.

  Maxine translated: “He’d like to see our driver’s licenses…sign here, it means you’ve never been married before—you haven’t, have you?”

  “Are you kidding?” Rand signed in his usual slashing letters: Thomas Randall Taggart.

  “He’s waiving the blood test,” she translated.

  “Blood test!”

  “Relax.” She listened, nodded. “He’s arranged for witnesses. We need two apiece.”

  “I thought getting married in Mexico was simple,” Rand grumbled. “Sure, anything. Let’s just get this over as fast as we can.”

  The preliminaries took longer than the ceremony. Rand didn’t know what he was saying sí to, but he said it just the same. He took some comfort in Maxine’s fluent Spanish; at least one of them would know what the hell had happened.

  There was a moment’s confusion when neither could produce a ring, but with shrugs all around, the ceremony proceeded to its logical conclusion…at which point Maxine looked at Rand expectantly.

  “What?”

  “You can kiss the bride.” She offered her cheek.

  He’d be damned if he was going to get married and kiss his bride on the cheek. Grabbing her, he planted his mouth squarely on hers.

  And got the shock of his life. Her lips were soft and warm and…dammit, exciting. He jerked back as if stung.

  The Mexican official and the four witnesses applauded. Embarrassed because he was such a fraud, Rand belatedly realized that Maxine appeared downright exasperated. She did, however, manage an unconvincing smile.

  “Now we have to sign on the dotted line,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “No problem.” Hell, no. The deed had been done. He was willing to sign anything they put in front of him.

  The official offered a copy of the marriage certificate along with a smile and another burst of incomprehensible Spanish.

  “Now what?” Rand automatically turned to Maxine.

  “Now you escort everyone to the door, hand the gentleman who performed the ceremony a few hundred dollars and each witness a hundred, say ‘Thank you’ in your barbarous tongue and close the door.”

  He could do that.

  RAND GREASED the palm of each person passing through the doorway with nods and farewells and congratulations. When everyone was gone, he shut the door, gave Maxine a thumbs-up and crossed to the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket.

  At which point Maxine aimed a forefinger at his sleek back, cocked her thumb and silently mouthed a single word: Gotcha!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SOME WEDDING NIGHT.

  Maxi stole a glance at her handsome “husband.” He leaned against the wrought-iron balcony just beyond the open French doors, staring across moonlit water as if he could see forever.

  When in actual fact he couldn’t see anything. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here with the one woman in the world devoted to bringing him down.

  “More champagne?”

  He turned so unexpectedly that she jumped in surprise. “Sure.” She held out her empty crystal flute. “Why not? After all, I don’t get married every day.”

  “You’re mad at me.” He crossed with a natural grace to the hammered-silver ice bucket. For a big man—more than six feet tall and broad-shouldered—he moved with surprising ease. He picked up the bottle and examined the label. “Why?”

  She should keep her mouth shut but decided against
it. After all, she’d be “living” with this guy for the foreseeable future and the “Meek Minnie” act was hard to maintain. “Because you kissed me,” she said. “You had no right to do that, especially after we agreed there’d be no sex.”

  He laughed and started toward her. “That wasn’t sex. That wasn’t even close to sex.”

  Then why had she been thunderstruck the instant his lips touched hers? Why had she felt all kinds of unwelcome physical sensations?

  With unfriendly eyes, she accepted the glass of wine he offered. Fortified by a drink, she said, “You had no right to touch me.”

  “You’re wrong.” He sat down on a white brocaded ottoman, so close his knees nearly brushed hers. “Get used to it, Maxine.”

  “I will not!” She took a defiant sip of champagne. “Why should I?”

  “Because we made a deal. If we’re going to convince anyone that this is real, I’ll have to touch you once in a while.” His broad mobile mouth curved up at the corners in a devilish grin. “We just got married. If I never lay a hand on you, what will everyone think?”

  “Probably the truth—that we’re faking it.”

  “In which case I won’t get my inheritance and you won’t get your money.”

  She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t doing this for the money but couldn’t without tipping him off. “Okay,” she conceded, her tone cross. “Just don’t forget we’re talking public. In private, touch me and you die.”

  He looked at her as if she were a deluded child. “No problem,” he said much too cheerfully. “You’re not my type.” He yawned, lending emphasis to what was essentially an insult.

  Giving her knee a friendly pat, he rose and wandered back outside onto the balcony, leaving her to seethe alone. Of course she wasn’t his type. In this getup, she wasn’t anybody’s type, which was the point of it for a woman who made her living as a model for Violet’s Advantage, the fast-rising Los Angeles lingerie company. No way would she be able to do what had to be done if she had to spend every moment fighting him off.

  For the truth was, Maxi didn’t get on that airplane and settle into the seat next to Rand Taggart’s by accident. There was no job in San Antonio. She’d simply been wishing to strike up a conversation with him in the hope of hearing something—anything—she could use against him. She’d even stolen his briefcase in the hope of finding something incriminating.

  What she’d found was a few personal items: some kind of funny key, a few magazines—nothing to help her cause. She’d felt guilty dumping them all in a handy trash bin at the Platillo Volante airport, but not guilty enough to be deterred. Maxi was on a mission.

  Staring at his silhouette, she brooded over her champagne. This man had turned her life upside down when he’d involved her older sister, Helen, in an embezzlement and money-laundering scheme. Because of him, Helen was incarcerated in a Chicago jail. Maxi wouldn’t rest until her sister was vindicated and justice had triumphed.

  Helen’s arrest had been an awful shock. Maxi had immediately walked out on a modeling assignment to fly from L.A. to Chicago and her sister’s side. There Helen had told her tale of woe:

  She’d already been working for several years as executive secretary to Bill Overton, president and CEO of Coconutty, manufacturer of health concoctions and suntan products based on coconut oil, when he’d set out to raise money to take his company into Internet marketing. That was when his old college roommate, Rand Taggart, had arrived on the scene as a potential investor.

  Rand seemed like a terrific guy, Helen had said darkly, until you got to know him. In truth, he was a rich and ruthless playboy with no concern for anybody else.

  Maxi’s suspicions were immediately aroused. “Was there something going on between you and this Rand Taggart?” she’d asked.

  Helen paled. “No! How can you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Because I know you, Helen. There’s always a man. Did he sweep you off your feet, use you and leave you holding the bag?”

  Helen looked evasive. “I don’t have to answer that. Please, Maxi, just stay out of this. I don’t need or want your help.”

  “I can’t stay out of it. You’re my sister and I love you. First, I’m going to pay your bail. Then we can decide what to do next.”

  Helen shook her head. “No! Go back to L.A. and don’t get involved. Bill—Mr. Overton will take care of me.”

  “But hasn’t he disappeared? Aren’t the police hunting for him, not Rand Taggart?”

  “Only because the police are in cahoots with Rand Taggart. He’s done everything in his power to make us appear guilty, but Mr. Overton and I are innocent. Rand is the real crook—you wouldn’t believe all the schemes and scams he’s involved in! Mr. Overton has to be free to gather evidence to clear us because nobody else is going to.”

  “What specifically are you accused of?” Maxi asked.

  Helen looked disgusted. “They say I couriered stolen money to the Caribbean. Do you believe it? Sure, I’ve vacationed in the islands a few times, but so have thousands of other Chicagoans. That doesn’t prove a thing.”

  “I believe you, Helen, but maybe your boss isn’t as honest.”

  “Isn’t it proof of his innocence that he’s retained his own lawyer, R. Renwood Keever, to defend me? He sent word, Maxi. I’m to sit tight until he can clear me or raise bail.”

  “But—but—” Maxi stammered. “I can’t leave you in here and just go on with my life.”

  “You’ve got to.” Helen’s mouth tightened. “You’re out of your depth, Maxi. Mr. Overton is my only hope and I’m going to do exactly what he says.”

  “Then maybe there’s some way I can find out what this Taggart person is up to, or at least—”

  “For the last time, stay out of it!” Helen’s eyes flashed and her mantle of persecution fell away. “The best thing you can do for me is nothing.”

  Helen had asked for the only thing Maxi couldn’t give. If she couldn’t bail her sister out, maybe she could help clear her. But how?

  A meeting with Helen’s attorney had provided an unexpected answer. R. Renwood Keever had waved a leather passport case beneath her nose while reporting that Rand Taggart was about to flee the scene of his perfidy.

  “The man thinks of nothing but himself,” Keever had declared indignantly. “He came here to my office, looking for trouble and making all kinds of threats against my client, Mr. Overton. Then he announced he was leaving town, but he’d be back, which I took as a threat. When I mentioned your sister, he said, ‘And your point is?’ If professional ethics didn’t demand that I return these documents to him…”

  Maxi’s pulse quickened. “Is his passport in there?”

  “Yes, and an airline ticket—apparently fell out of his pocket when he stomped out of here. Like I have time to do him favors—”

  “Let me. Do you know where he’s staying?”

  “Yes, but—”

  She snatched the case from his wavering hand, her heart pounding so she thought he might hear it. “Consider it done.”

  Her opinion of Attorney Keever was not high, but at least he was on the correct side in this matter. “Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’ll take care of everything. Goodbye, and thank you for all you’re doing for my sister….”

  Outside on the sidewalk, she’d opened the passport case with trembling hands. An incredibly handsome man stared back at her from a cheap passport photo. Poor Helen! No wonder she’d gone gaga over this guy.

  Then Maxi had turned to the ticket: an Alar Airlines direct flight to San Antonio.

  She’d booked the seat next to his out of pure desperation. She wanted to see, in the flesh, the man who’d wreaked havoc with Helen’s life. Maybe she could strike up a conversation, even uncover some clue. If he thought she was just a fellow traveler, he might give something away—mightn’t he?

  Unfortunately, she had no practice or even talent for ferreting out information from someone who chose not to be ferreted. Nevertheless she must try. Ce
rtain that Maxi Rafferty wouldn’t get anything out of Rand Taggart beyond the usual pass, she’d decided to call upon her alter ego, plain Maxine Rafferty.

  But first she had to call her agent, Ron Walters, who freaked when she told him she was flying to Texas. She’d already missed one modeling date and if she wasn’t back by Monday—

  Like she cared. Modeling was a job, not her life, and she was getting tired of all the hassle anyway. She’d saved practically every penny she’d ever made, so if the gravy train ran off the tracks tomorrow, as she fully expected it would, she’d shed not a single tear.

  She did care that Rand Taggart was so damn cagey. All that time together on the plane, all that stress, and he’d never uttered a word about Coconutty or anything connected to it. All he’d said was that he “didn’t have access to the majority of his funds at the moment.” Yeah, like he’d stolen his own money and that of many others, but all those lovely tax-free dollars were hidden away because the heat was on and would be for who knew how long.

  Of course he needed his great-grandfather’s bequest!

  It took a cool customer to sit back calmly while armed hijackers spread fear and panic. If that little girl hadn’t been in danger, Maxi doubted he would ever have acted. Even then, he’d gone to great lengths to avoid attention. This was distinctly unguy-like, in her experience.

  He wanted to avoid the spotlight for nefarious reasons, she was sure of it. But should she have gone this far to find out what they might be?

  He interrupted her thoughts by turning back inside, all rumpled male beauty with unbuttoned collar and shirttail hanging out of his trousers. For an instant she almost wished they’d met under other circumstances…

  She cut off that line of thought double-quick. She wasn’t here to sleep with the enemy or even to get friendly; she was here to clear her sister’s name. To do that, she’d somehow wound up in this place she’d so enjoyed during a photo shoot a couple of years ago.

  Lingerie modeled on beautiful sandy beaches…everyone fawning over the models, while margaritas flowed like water…