Chapter 8
Reeling like she’d been broadsided by a bus, Jillian had to sprint to keep up with Zane’s long-legged stride. “What? Today? That’s impossible!”
“The longer we wait, the more time we give Richard and Brooke to load their arsenal. I don’t want that heartless bastard having any more visitation, either. If I have my way, Casey will never spend another night under Richard’s roof.”
Appreciation for his direct, take-charge capability warred with bewilderment. “But getting married in Oregon takes a minimum of three days. I have to make plans, contact my family—”
“Forget all that. We’re flying to Reno. And until it’s a done deal, the less people who know, the less complicated and safer for all concerned.”
“Reno?” she parroted.
“Closer, faster, and slightly classier than Vegas, but we can still marry immediately. Pack whatever else you need and arrange a sitter for the kid while I make the arrangements. Don’t tell anyone else the plan. Be ready to head to the airport in one hour.”
“You’ll arrange … An hour? Not tell anyone?” she echoed again. “But I’d really like to have at least my dad and Loucinda present when I get married.”
“I’ve been to a wedding in Nevada. Most of their chapels provide witnesses if necessary.”
“But … they won’t be family. And I don’t even have a dress. Three days isn’t that long. Don’t you think—”
Then she glanced over and saw Casey, his nose pressed against the living room window, his little face uncertain and vulnerable and still somber after the ugly encounter with Richard.
He needed her. Needed Zane.
Needed them both firmly united on his side.
Zane stopped inside the front entrance and turned to face her. He cupped her cheek in one big hand, radiating steely resolve. “I won’t let anybody do to Casey what my father did to me and my brothers. We have to get married, Jillian. Right now.”
His father had been the one who’d abused him . She’d surmised as much, but hoped she was mistaken. The thought of Zane as an innocent, hurt child aroused every protective instinct she possessed. She ached to enfold him in her arms and hold him. But he’d scorn both her embrace and her sympathy. Deny himself the comfort.
He’d been badly wounded by his own father. The one person who should’ve been his biggest champion. No wonder he had a difficult time dealing with emotions … and trust.
Scalding anger seared her, and she clenched her fists. Her throat constricted until she couldn’t speak.
So she simply nodded.
* * *
Faster than she’d ever thought possible, a still shell-shocked Jillian found herself boarding a Reno-bound plane. Zane had chartered a chopper to whisk them from the coast to Portland International in record time to make the flight. He’d pulled rank at the airport using his FBI clearance, and they’d bypassed security lines and skipped the tap-dance of waiting barefooted to send their shoes and bags crawling through the scanner.
And although Portland to Reno was only a ninety minute flight at the most, he’d booked first-class. A luxury she didn’t expect, but greatly appreciated. Two cushy, padded reclining chairs instead of being squished into sardine rows—heavenly!
As Zane stashed their carry-ons in the overhead compartments, Jillian scooted into the window seat. Casey and Aragorn had been sent happily off with “Poppy” Dean—who’d been handed a story about a potential new charitable donor for the center which required a quick presentation trip—along with an emergency supply of Aragorn’s peanuts, boxed sets of Star Wars DVDs, and five hastily scribbled pages of instructions, “just in case.”
Loucinda had granted her several “personal” days off work between rapid-fire questions, which Jillian had dodged. Her friend had also promised to help Dean manage his unexpected houseguests.
Zane commandeered the seat beside Jillian, enveloping her in the warmth from his lean-muscled body and clean, male scent. He’d been in his room juggling all the arrangements when her dad arrived, so he hadn’t met him. Just as well. Better for the tougher-than-galvanized-nails contractor to meet his taciturn new son-in-law after the elopement was a fait accompli. Once Zane was officially family, Dean wouldn’t kill him.
Probably.
She groaned inwardly. Explaining her enigmatic “husband” to her overprotective father and brothers would merit a spot up there on the fun meter with her annual gyno exam.
She would have to be honest with her family about the situation. They’d see through any attempts to fib, anyway. And as much as her dad and brothers loved Casey, they’d question her sanity—with good reason.
Knowing the Ramsay men, they wouldn’t be too happy to have been purposefully cut out of the entire process, either.
She squelched the doubt attack. This was the best thing for Casey. A crazy, last-ditch desperation move, but way better than fleeing with the little boy.
Which didn’t make charging into a bogus marriage with a man she didn’t love any less intimidating. Or scary.
The flight attendant started to swing the aircraft door closed, then hesitated when a flurry of commotion from the ramped corridor outside was accompanied by a man’s deep shout.
Dread coiled through her. Had Richard somehow found out? Was he trying to stop them?
Dallas and Mia rushed aboard, prompting a relieved, surprised smile from Jillian.
“I’ll take the inside spot, darlin’,” Dallas drawled to his wife while waving hello at Jillian and Zane. “You’ll have to get up at least five times.” He stowed their bags, then folded his long frame into the window seat across the aisle.
“Yeah, you can carry the next baby and let it trampoline on your bladder, Cowboy.” Panting and breathless, and glowing in a ruffled fuchsia sleeveless dress that lovingly draped her petite baby bump, Mia dropped down next to her husband. She leaned across the aisle to greet Zane and Jillian. “Whew! My current court case dragged out until the last possible minute, and we almost missed the flight! Cowboy fractured at least eight traffic regulations getting here.”
Zane chuckled. “Damned good thing, because you barely made it.”
The plane taxied into position, and Jillian covered Zane’s hand draped over the armrest. The heat and energy radiating from his smooth copper skin made her fingers tingle, her bloodstream sing. “I didn’t know you’d invited them along.”
“I thought having our attorney present was wise. Plus, they can serve as witnesses.”
The lawyer was a good idea, though not a necessity, and he’d told her the chapels supplied witnesses. Her smile widened. “I’m glad your friends are here, too.”
One wide shoulder lifted, but a flash of sentiment in his eyes revealed he wasn’t as unmoved as he appeared. His affection warmed her heart and eased her jitters somewhat as the plane streamed down the runway and hurtled into the air.
She studied Zane’s handsome profile. Long, thick lashes framed piercing eyes that glowed with intelligence and alert awareness. A straight, strong nose that managed to be both graceful and masculine. Sculpted, sensual lips, full and moist … and firm with steady resolve.
Deb had said Casey’s father was nobody special. Jillian disagreed whole-heartedly.
Jillian knew the belly-clenching, blood-sizzling intoxication of having all of his focused intensity concentrated solely upon her. Zane the ally was a formidable presence. Zane the lover would be an irresistible force. This man would demand everything. No holding back.
Fantasies of gentlemanly seduction didn’t fit on Zane’s muscular shoulders, in his big, hard hands and lean, primed body. If making love to him was as powerful as merely kissing him, the sex would be raw, elemental.
Devastating.
Her stomach swooped and her breath hitched on a wild rollercoaster of fear and fascination.
She didn’t want to be devastated.
Zane flicked a concerned glance her way. “You okay?”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“No need. The marriage bureau in Reno is open 365 days a year from eight a.m. until midnight. We’ll make it with plenty of time to spare. All arrangements and reservations are confirmed, everything’s on track and in place. Nothing at all to worry about.”
“Right. Not a thing.” She’d always anticipated a joyous, happily-ever-after, big fat Ramsay family wedding. Never in a million years had she believed she’d sneak off alone and elope—with a virtual stranger. Who planned to divorce her ASAP. But a little boy needed her.
So for now, she’d relinquish her dreams.
Suddenly lonesome, she leaned her cheek against the cool glass window, watching Mt. Hood and the Cascade range shrink from sight beneath wispy clouds in the brilliant blue sky. Dallas’ low, amused rumble and Mia’s answering giggle from across the aisle as the couple bantered added to her sense of isolation.
The plane bumped and dropped into an air pocket, and she jerked.
Zane’s wrist rotated and he enfolded her fingers, easily tucking her entire hand inside his palm. “You skittish about flying?”
At his intimate touch, champagne bubbles tingled through her bloodstream. “No. I love it, actually.
“You ever been up at night in a small plane?”
“I’ve never been in a small plane at all.”
“It’s incredible. The whole universe is spread out in front of you, limitless and full of potential.” Fascinated, she watched passion animate his expression. “The stars and planets are so close you can reach out and touch them. You’re all alone with the stars and your dreams. Take a chance, grab a star. Anything seems possible.”
Thrilled by the glimpse into his private world, she stared into his hauntingly beautiful eyes.
His gaze locked on hers, and the moment stretched out as silent communication arced between them. His irises darkened, held her captive. Heat-lightning flashed in the smoldering umber depths, warning of a tumultuous summer storm.
Locating her voice took two attempts. “Will you take me sometime?”
“I’d like to show you things you’ve never imagined,” he murmured huskily.
Ensnared by the sudden predatory male claim in his smoldering gaze, she couldn’t breathe. She battled a surge of panic. This was a frightening game she didn’t know how to play. He was a dangerous man she didn’t know how to handle.
She wrenched her gaze away, stared out the window again. “We have another hour until we land. I’d enjoy hearing about your flying adventures. How long did it take you to learn, and when did you start?”
His fingers gently squeezed hers. “You really interested in all that?”
She’d be riveted—and turned on—by listening to Wolfe’s deep, smoky timbre read the dictionary.
Oh, girl, you are in so deep over your head.
“Yes,” she said, willing her voice to emerge steadier than she felt. “I’m very interested learning in everything about you, Zane. I mean …” she backpedaled. “Not in a stalkerish sort of way.”
His deep chuckle vibrated through her, made her thighs tighten. Odd how the more edgy she got, the calmer he became. Once Wolfe had made a decision, he apparently arrowed forward with single-minded, doubt-free determination.
The remaining hour passed quickly. Maybe too quickly.
Their group deplaned in Reno. They’d all foregone checking luggage in favor of quicker carry-ons, which both men insisted on toting for the ladies.
As they strode through the terminal, Zane glanced at his watch. “I’ve arranged for a car. We have to buy our license and I need dress shoes, since the kid yakked in mine. And I suppose for appearances sake, we should exchange rings. Gotta make it look authentic.”
Appearances sake. Melancholy cloaked Jillian in a chilly mist. No matter how it looked, this marriage was just a charade.
“According to my web research,” Zane continued, “the Riverwalk shopping district is ETA six minutes from the marriage license bureau, so we can stop there afterward.” He glanced down at Jillian. “There’s even a florist, so you can get a bouquet if you want. Then it’s about an hour’s drive to Lake Tahoe.”
Jillian tilted her head. “Lake Tahoe?”
“Yeah. You’re not a city girl, and as much as you like the water, I figured you’d prefer …” At her wondering gaze, his words faded. He cleared his throat. “I scheduled the ceremony with time to spare, so we don’t have to rush. This is a business transaction, but it might as well be as pleasant as possible.”
“Hellfire, Wolfe,” Dallas said. “You’ve got this as critically mapped out and detailed as one of our tactical missions.”
Right. Zane was on a mission. Fulfilling his obligation.
Zane led the way outside into the afternoon sunshine. “Our hotel suites are also confirmed, so we can check in and park our bags, then get the ceremony over with.”
Get it over with? Jillian bit her lip. Hardly her ideal wedding to start, it grew more disheartening by the second.
The sight of a sleek, charcoal gray stretch limo outside the terminal brightened Jillian’s mood. “Wow, you rented a limo?”
“I thought it’d be more comfortable for Mia in her condition.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Was that also why he’d booked first-class? Jillian silently slid inside the luxurious ivory interior along with the others.
This is a cold, calculated business arrangement, executed for Casey’s sake. Buck up, Ramsay, and get over yourself.
“All right,” she said with false brightness. “Let’s do this, then.”
* * *
Zane had reserved each couple an individual stone-and-wood cottage at a gorgeous, rustically charming, no amenities spared secluded woodland resort. Tucked into the hushed heart of the emerald forest, the group of buildings topped a rise that offered breathtaking panoramic views of the glittering cerulean lake guarded by rugged mountains. Each cottage suite was a short walk to the main lodge in one direction and in the other, the private beachfront cove where their ceremony would soon take place.
Staring into the full-length mirror in the sumptuous slate-tiled bathroom of her and Zane’s cottage, Jillian’s wobbly fingers fumbled with the wires in her silver seahorse earrings … a gift from her dad when she’d graduated high school. At least she’d have a small part of her father with her.
Standing behind her, Mia zipped Jillian into her new dress.
My wedding dress.
Jillian had packed a pastel blue dress she’d worn for Easter, but after she and Zane had purchased simple but striking milled-edge, brushed platinum bands at the Riverwalk district, Mia had dragged Jillian into a quirky consignment boutique while the men headed out to hunt down Zane’s shoes.
At the very back of the store, Jillian had found the dress. A delicately filigreed white lace sundress over soft silk lining, with dainty spaghetti straps and a slightly flared skirt that skimmed her hips. The high-enough-above-the-knee-to-be-sexy-but-at-the-same-time-elegant-style was perfect for a casual, lakeside summer bride.
Even if she was only playing a part in a farce.
Mia had also fast-talked Jillian into buying a man-killer sheer lace aqua thong for her “something blue.” And what the hell, she’d bought a coral one also, an irresistible confection in her favorite color. Not that anyone else would see them, because for this particular “honeymoon,” her determined groom had made it clear the terms were strictly impersonal.
Which was exactly what she wanted, too. But impulsively purchasing something so yummy bolstered her faltering confidence.
Mia patted Jillian on the back. “All set, let me get your shoes.”
The diminutive lawyer had had less luck talking Jillian into va-va-voom white FM pumps with towering heels. So not her style, and it seemed like a bad start to even a sham marriage if the bride fractured an ankle walking toward her groom. Instead, Jillian had bought a pair of white, woven-heeled wedge sandals tied with satin ribbons that wrapped the ankle twice before tying in a bow. Still sexy, but far less hazardous.
She always played it safe with her choices—and not just in her footwear.
Yet here she was … about to dive headlong into a clandestine marriage of convenience with an armed and oh-so-lethal FBI agent.
Mia stepped beside her, luminous in her fuchsia dress. She stuck out one slender foot, clad in a pink and gray argyle Converse sneaker. “I hope you don’t mind. I wore them at my wedding and then our recommitment ceremony, and I save ‘em for special occasions now. They’ve always brought me extra good luck. But it’s your wedding, so if you hate them, I did bring sandals.”
“I figured you wore them on the plane for comfort.” Jillian rubbed chilled hands together. “But I love those Chucks! And hey, we need all the luck we can scrounge up to pull off this insane plan.”
“How are you holding up?”
“If you discount pterodactyls performing maneuvers in my stomach that would out-swoop the Blue Angels, then not too badly.”
“Zane’s been through a lot of crap in his life, and that makes him wary, sometimes distant, and causes him to overprotect his heart. But you’re marrying a great guy.”
“Yes, I know. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, sublimating his own self-protective instincts in order to help his son.”
“I don’t think it’s only about Casey, Jillian. Zane is different when he’s with you.”
“How so?”
“He opens up way more. I’ve never seen him relax his guard with anyone but Dallas and me.”
Jillian dragged in an anxious breath. Obviously, Zane trusted her more than she’d realized. And she could not— would not— be yet another person who disappointed him. Failed him.
Mia paused as if trying to decide how much more to say. “He has scars. And believe it or not, beneath that seemingly bulletproof exterior, he’s scared.”
“Yeah, I realized that, too.”
“You’re a wise woman, with rare insight. There are interesting, untapped depths to Zane Wolfe. Give him some time to adjust, and he’ll surprise you.” Smiling, Mia handed her the bright bouquet of coral, yellow, and hot pink gerbera daisies tied with coral ribbons. “You two are going to be so good for each other.”
Jillian stroked a velvety petal. “We all know this is only a business arrangement . ”
Mia uttered a softly evil chuckle. “When I first met Dallas, I thought he was the most exasperating man alive. And a criminal, to boot. Our marriage also started out as a ‘business arrangement.’”
“What? What happened?”
“I fell right into my cowboy’s arms, and he saved my butt.” Mia laughed again. “Literally. And he never let me go.”
Just like one of her beloved fantasy romances. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“I can’t wait to tell you.”
“But Mia, my situation is totally different. Nothing can happen, nothing will happen between me and my ‘husband.’”
“Don’t be so sure. I learned you can never rule out nefarious little Cupid’s plans.” Her new friend and impromptu maid-of-honor glanced at her watch. Jillian had never seen a woman wearing a Daffy Duck watch before. Especially an attorney, but it perfectly suited Mia’s fun-loving personality. “Okay, all set? It’s time get you out there to your groom.”
Her palms broke into a sweat.
Ohmigod, I’m about to get married.
She’d dreamt of her wedding day since she was a little girl. In recent years, she’d pictured herself in a vintage gown and delicate veil, gliding down the church aisle to a New Age ballad, arm-in-arm with her father. Imagined her brothers, tall and handsome in Navy Dress Whites, flanking her at the altar. Believed Deb would stand up with her as maid of honor. Had always anticipated joining her life with a sweet, sensitive groom who was wildly and passionately in love with her.
Stomach churning, Jillian stepped across the threshold into the balmy summer sunset.
She’d never felt so alone in her life. Deb was gone now. But Pop should be here, the proud-as-a-peacock father of the bride. So should her brothers, glowering with protective pride. And Loucinda, beaming with mischievous happiness.
At this moment, she missed her family and friends with every fiber of her being.
Guitar music strummed from somewhere below the curving stone path ahead of her, poignant notes wafting through lofty, fragrant evergreens. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin.
Just keep moving forward. One step at a time.
The low-hanging sun streaked pink, lavender, and gold bands across the horizon, the turquoise water reflecting shimmering prisms as Jillian resolutely followed Mia through the trees down the winding pathway toward the hidden beach.
With one more bend to go before the beach came into sight, the guitar tempo changed and a man’s low voice began to sing.
She immediately recognized the tune, the Bee Gee’s romantic, “Too Much Heaven.” Moisture stung her eyes, blurred her vision as a burning lump balled in her throat. Why? Why had her pragmatic Fed chosen a song that was so personal, so meaningful?
For appearances sake, of course.
This was strictly business , nothing more.
Blinking back tears, she walked through the leafy arch between the trees and onto the sandy shore. Dimly aware of Mia leading her onward, the solo guitar player off to the side, the gray-haired minister standing in front of the magnificent sunset-lit lake, and a dark-suited Dallas flanking her groom.
Then she saw Zane.
And then all she saw was Zane.
Tall, strong, and heartrendingly handsome in his black suit, white shirt and burgundy tie, he awaited her with confident anticipation. Those wide shoulders set in a relaxed military stance, big, capable hands folded loosely behind him … his cool composure the stark opposite of her roiling turbulence.
His steady gaze locked on hers, and dark fire flared in the umber depths. Making her heart pound, her knees weak. And telling her without a doubt that in the entire universe … she was his sole focus.
Her heart stopped, her feet stumbled, and she froze in her tracks.
From the first instant they’d met, she’d known, but could no longer deny the frightening reality. Her husband-to-be’s cool detachment was only a fa?ade. Searing flames burned inside Zane.
And if she wasn’t careful, her Big Bad Wolfe would consume her.
When she still didn’t— couldn’t —move, Zane stepped forward, meeting her where she stood. A reassuring arm wrapped her waist. He leaned down, and gave her one of his rare, stunning smiles. “You look beautiful.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured for her ears alone. “This is right.”
Trembling uncontrollably, throat clogged by unshed tears, she managed to walk to the altar with him. To dazedly stammer through her vows.
She’d always believed marriage was a lifetime commitment.
Zane was wrong. This was wrong.
And yet so necessary.
Solid and unshakable, Zane pledged himself to her in a clear even voice. Working the simple platinum band onto her quivering, sweaty finger gave him some trouble, but he patiently, gently settled it into place.
“Zane and Jillian,” the minister said. “By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Those whom God has brought together, let no one tear asunder. Zane, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”
Her heart lurched, began to race as she raised her face to her groom.
Wide palms cupped her cheeks, callused thumbs tenderly brushing away the wet streaks she hadn’t felt trickling down her face. He bent his head, his masculine scent arousing every nerve ending.
His gaze heated, beckoning her to tumble into dark, smoky sin. “Hello, Mrs. Wolfe.” His deep timbre created tremors inside her as his warm breath feathered over her mouth.
When her lips parted in longing, he groaned, then his mouth captured hers. His silky tongue glided in, enticing, seducing. Jillian’s eyes drifted closed and she tasted her own salty tears, and the rich, heady essence that was his and his alone.
Zane’s fingers slid into her hair, urging her closer, pulling her against his rock-hard torso. His heartbeat thundered against her breasts, the welcome friction making her nipples tighten. Uttering a sigh of surrender, she wound her arms around his neck.
The deep, potent rhythm of their exquisite dance of lips and tongues and gentle teeth intoxicated her. Made her head swim, her limbs shake. She matched his drugging, erotic tempo, craving more, so much more.
His scorching kiss stole her breath. Incinerated all reason. Liquid desire flooded her veins and she clutched his broad shoulders, never wanting to let him go.
She couldn’t get enough of him.
He pulled back and she barely managed to gulp down her objection. Holding her gaze, he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jerking, while the same inferno that had incinerated her blazed in his compelling eyes.
Dizzied by the emotional firestorm, she stumbled back up the path clinging to Zane’s sure hand.
He continued to hold onto her as they walked through the rapidly descending twilight into the clearing in front of the large main lodge building. “You okay?” his smoky baritone asked in her ear.
A shiver traced down her backbone. “I’m fine,” she lied.
Dallas and Mia caught up with them. “How about dinner?” Mia suggested. “Our treat. Consider it a small wedding gift.”
Dallas laughed. “Am I mistaken, darlin’, or wasn’t that you scarfing a bucket-load of snacks in the limo?”
“I’m starved. And eating for two.”
Dallas grinned. “You always ate for two, even when there was only one of you.”
The couple’s easy, open affection made Jillian hyper-aware of the tense contrast between her and her new “husband.”
Forcing a smile, she nodded. “Dinner sounds nice. Zane?”
“I wouldn’t say no to food.”
By mutual agreement, the foursome skipped the dining room in favor of the candlelit flagstone terrace surrounded by opulent flower gardens. Only one other couple was seated across the patio, and the hostess situated their foursome at a cozy corner table. A gentle floral-scented breeze floated off the moon-glazed lake at their left, and frogs, crickets, and night birds chorused from the forest depths.
Zane requested a chilled bottle of Dom. As the hostess departed, he leaned back in his chair, scooped long fingers through thick raven hair. “Well, it’s a done deal. Mia, I want you to file for permanent custody, and immediately petition to cut off Richard’s visitation. I’d also like a confidentiality clause included about my paternity of Casey, so nobody can spill it to the kid without severe consequences.”
“All right, I’ll do all I can. There are a lot of details we need to cover though, especially about the adoption caseworker.”
“No time like the present. Hit it.”
“He or she will make a surprise visit to check out the house and interview you and Jillian and Casey. Be prepared, stay on your toes, and no matter where you are, don’t appear to be anything other than a devoted couple. Even when you think nobody could be watching.”
Jillian’s frozen fingers gripped her napkin beneath the table. In other words, pretend to enjoy spending time with me.
Not exactly the romantic tete-a-tete she’d imagined sharing with her groom during her wedding reception.
She rose. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She’d better get a firm grip on her precarious equilibrium, or risk bursting into humiliating tears.
Mia sent her a glance, silently asking if she wanted accompaniment. Jillian shook her head and hurried inside to the ladies’ room.
She finished her business and lingered, washing her hands and repairing her smudged makeup.
It’s over. Done. So freaking deal with it, already.
She inhaled a series of meditation breaths before heading back toward the patio. For better or for worse.
Until impending divorce do we part.
Dallas, Mia, and Zane were leaning in toward one another, heads bent in intent conversation as Jillian walked up behind them.
“Holy crap, Wolfe,” Mia gritted. “What do you mean you didn’t tell her?”
“Why? I have no intention of us sleeping together.”
“You need to sleep with your wife, not only on your honeymoon tonight, but every night.”
Zane scowled. “No way in hell am I going to have sex with her!”
Jillian froze, shards of ice stabbing her insides.
“You do realize I meant share a bed, right?” Mia clarified. “You never know who’s observing. Hotel staff notices things, and since we suspect Richard hired someone to watch her, you need to be careful. And you’d better tell her everything, pronto.”
“Need to know basis. For which there’s no need.”
“ Wrong. The court will expect your wife to know that you’ve had a vasectomy.”