The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(31)
She reached for them. A tingle flitted through her as her fingers scraped his hand, reminding her of the swirl of his thumb over her hand after he’d asked her to marry him. She brought the bundle to her nose and took a deep breath of rose-scented air. Her favorite fragrance.
“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt sincerity. It was a sweet gesture—and so totally unexpected it made everything she was going to say more difficult.
He looked at her, the smile fading as his thumb stroked down her cheek, bringing with it a pleasurable shiver. She wished she didn’t respond this way every time he touched her.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No. Not really,” she lied. “But I did want to be sure we understand each other. Marriage carries certain expectations,” she began. “And I want…I want to be the one who decides if and when…those expectations are met.” She looked up at him through her lashes.
He took a step back, as if to see her more clearly. “Of course.” He sounded offended.
“It’s just…this is not a real marriage. There’s no love between us. We don’t trust each other…”
“I’m attracted to you. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re attracted to me.”
“For you, that’s enough, I’m sure.” She couldn’t disguise the edge in her voice. “But it’s not for me. Sex isn’t just about pleasure…”
“It will be pleasurable. I can promise you that.”
She ignored the kick of her pulse. “It’s about feelings.” And she counted on his role as arbiter of her company’s fate to keep at bay whatever misguided feelings she may have once had for him. She’d been too young to understand what it meant to be in love, and yet, no other man had ever elicited the depth of feelings he had that fateful summer.
“Like with Mitch Lockhart?”
What did he know about Mitch Lockhart? And why did he care? “I don’t need to defend my previous decisions. But I do need to explain this decision so you’re realistic and not under any illusions.”
“Shoot.”
“If you think I am doing this for any reason other than to become the head of Prescott Rodeo Company and keep it from being sold, you are wrong, Ty. You gain regardless. I risk…everything that’s dear to me, everything I’ve fought for. My heritage, my company.” My self-respect.
He curved a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so she could see him. It was too easy to get lost in those dark, intense, intriguing eyes.
“And just so you’re realistic, I play to win. So there’s no way we’re not going to bed together. It’s not a matter of if—it’s only a matter of when. I can be damn irresistible.”
With a smile that gave truth to his words, he stepped back and held out his arm.
“We’ll see,” she said, hoping her voice held more conviction than she felt at the moment. Placing her hand on the wool sleeve covering hard bone and muscle, her legs weak, she walked with him into Brian’s office to become Mrs. Ty Martin.
*
“You really didn’t have to do this, Mom.”
Mandy sat next to Ty and across the linen-clad table from Sheila and Harold in a booth at the Cattle Baron’s Grille in the historic Cheyenne hotel of the same name, and tried to ignore the warm thigh pressed against her leg and the flush of her body in response.
The thigh and the heat it was generating belonged to the man she had just pledged to love and honor till death do us part. Hypocrisy slammed into her with an uncomfortable thud. She was now a card-carrying member of the ends justifies the means club, and she hated herself for it.
And she hated that Sheila had insisted they “celebrate” the occasion. Mandy didn’t feel like celebrating. She felt like crawling back under the covers of her bed and never coming out. Only now her bed would include the tall, dark, and handsome man next to her and be located in her grandfather’s ranch house, which she hadn’t stepped foot in since his death.
She wanted to cry. But instead she picked up her fork and stabbed at the Caesar salad she’d ordered, her stomach in knots.
“It was nice of both of you,” Ty said, including Harold in his thanks. Ty, along with Harold, had ordered the Cowboy Ribeye. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him cut a substantial piece of meat off the bone and pop it into his mouth. Obviously his appetite had not been affected.
“Well, even if this isn’t…well, traditional, we should commemorate the occasion.” Sheila took a dainty bite of her salmon.
“Why? We all know it’s just a sham.” Mandy felt peeved—at herself, mostly, for having succumbed to her grandfather’s misplaced wishes. “I just want my company back.”
A frown creased her mother’s creamy white brow. “Let’s have a nice meal and not spoil it by talking about that confounded will. You’ve taken the necessary step, so it’s time to move forward.”
“You both headed out tomorrow to Texas?” Harold asked, apparently ready to change the subject.
“We’re heading to Abilene first. Right, Mandy?” Ty seemed totally unaffected sitting in the elegant dining room in his tux like it was the most normal thing in the world to have just gotten married on a Tuesday by a judge to a woman he couldn’t claim as more than an acquaintance and who, he had to know, despised everything he stood for.