Marriage With Benefits (17 page)

Might still have to, just from this visit.

“Will you sit with me?” He nodded to the couch.

“I prefer to stand, thanks. Besides, you’re not staying long. Are you dropping off the papers?”

“In a way,” he said. “But first, I’d like to tell you something. You know my great-great-grandfather founded Wheeler Family Partners back in the eighteen hundreds, right?”

When she nodded, he went on, “Back then, there weren’t many buildings. Mostly land. That’s true real estate, and it’s in my blood. I used to think real estate was about deals. A piece of paper, signed and filed. Then I was done, ready to move on to the next deal. But that’s not who I am anymore. I’m in the business of partnering with people to build something real. Something permanent. That’s why I grew WFP without Matthew. Not because I got lucky or worked hard. I fell in love with someone who challenges me to be more. Who taught me the value of wholehearted commitment.”

¡Dios mío!

“Is
that
where you were going?” She laughed, and it came out more like a sob. So now he was in love with her. Conveniently. “You came to deliver divorce papers and tell me you decided you’re in love with me. Anything else?”

He came off the couch in a rush, feet planted and eyes blazing. Involuntarily, she backed up from the heat of his anger.
This
was Lucas mad. Before, by the pool, was nothing in comparison.

“I’m not here to deliver divorce papers.” He held them up and flicked his other hand. A lighter appeared between his fingers, flame extended.

Before she could blink, he set the papers on fire.

Smoke curled away from the burning pages, and her divorce deal turned to ash. He blew out the fire before it reached his fingers and threw the charred corners on her pristine coffee table, metal glinting from his third finger with the motion. He was still wearing his wedding ring.

“What did you do that for?” she demanded, pulse pounding. “I have a copy in the other room, and you’re not leaving here until you sign it.”

His taut frame still bristled as he dismissed the demand with a curt slice of his hand. “I am not divorcing you. Period.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Cia, listen for a minute. I handled it all wrong. I’m sorry. I cut down what mattered most to you and undermined your goals with the shelter, trying to force you to need me. I was too much of a dingbat to realize I’d done everything except the one thing you really wanted.”

“Oh, what’s that?” she asked. Tears stabbed at her eyes, burned down her throat.

“You stuck your heart out and then yanked it right back so quickly, I almost didn’t see it. You don’t give a guy a chance to think about what to do with such a gift, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out what would be enough.” He inched toward her slowly, giving her time to move. Or to stay. “You want someone to love you. You want
me
to love you.”

Her lungs contracted as his heart splashed onto his face. This was definitely not some conveniently discovered feeling calculated to get his way. He’d never looked at her with such fierce longing coupled with aching tenderness.

And yet, he’d always looked at her like that. She’d never dared examine it. Never dared hope it meant more than warm feelings for the woman he was sleeping with.

When he’d taken all the steps he could, she hadn’t moved. He swept her up in his arms.

“Darlin’,” he whispered into her hair. “Let me love you.”

She shut her eyes and breathed in Lucas. Breathed in the acrid, charred scent of burned paper as his body cleaved to hers and he held her. It would be so easy to plunge into this new Lucas, the one who opened up and poured out poetry and promises like sap from a felled tree.

With her stomach and heart twisting, she broke his embrace. “That’s not what I want.”

“Stop pretending.” Ferocity leaped back into his expression. “You’re so afraid, you either fake everything or you fight it, as if that will insulate you from hurt. Nothing will. But being alone hurts in a different way.”

His blue laser beams punched right through her, past the flesh and bone. She’d struggled so hard to be whole, to heal from losing pieces of her soul. First, when her parents died and after, when she tried to replace the loss with disastrous relationships.

And here she was, with no empty space. No room for anyone, not even this surprising, layered man who stood before her, asking for something she couldn’t give.

“I am afraid.” Had she said that out loud?

“I know, honey. I know all about fear. Do you think it was easy for me to come here with nothing to give except myself? Jewelry and spectacular sex are much easier to offer than risking you’ll accept plain old me. But I’m hoping it’s enough, because I can’t live my life without you.”

He was saying all the right things. Except he was first and foremost a salesman, and she’d experienced his stellar ability to sell himself firsthand. “You wanted me to be needy. But not anymore?”

“Yeah. I wanted you to need me and told myself fulfilling your needs was my half of the partnership. A total lie. It was so I didn’t have to do the work. So I could keep from investing emotionally. The worst part is, I was already in deep and couldn’t tell you how much I need
you.
You’re right. Need is dangerous.” He inclined his head in deference. “I can’t survive without you. I’m completely addicted to you. And I love you too much to let you go.”

The sentiment darted right through her flimsy barriers and spread with warmth into the emptiness she would have sworn wasn’t there.

Lucas had known, though, and burrowed right past the pretense, past all the lies she told herself. It was frightening to consider just being real for once and more frightening still to consider giving up her defenses. “How can I know for sure this isn’t all going to evaporate one day?”

“I don’t have a crystal ball. All I have is right here.” He held his hands wide, palms up. “Can you forgive me?”

She shut her eyes against the raw emotion spilling from the sea of blue trained on her face. No sales pitch there. Just a whole lot of Lucas, showing her the inner reaches of his heart. “This is a lot to take in. Without the divorce, I don’t get my money. How can I live with that?”

His expression grew cunning. “How can you live with yourself if you do get your money? You don’t want to be a slave to need, yet you’re willing to be one to your grandfather.”

She flinched. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re dependent on your grandfather and his money to grant you a measure of control over a life that can’t be controlled.” He advanced on her, backing her up until she hit the wall. “I’m not above stacking the deck to get what I want, and I want you, Cia Wheeler. I dare you to take a risk on us. I dare you to stare your grandfather in the eye and tell him to keep his money, because you’re keeping your marriage.”

Vocalized in Lucas’s whiskey-smooth voice, her name sounded beautiful. Exactly right. It was too much. He saw too much, wanted too much. He made her want too much.

“How can I?” she whispered.

“Simple. You have needs, whether you like it or not. They’re part of being human, so you have to make a choice. Do you need your grandfather to take care of you financially? Or do you need to take a chance on a new deal with me? A mutually beneficial deal, because, honey, you need me as much as I need you. The question is, can you admit it?”

There it was. He’d drawn the line, given her a choice. Maybe it was that easy to just say
yes.
But it couldn’t be. “What if I don’t want kids?”

He flashed a grin. “What if I do? What if I don’t want you to keep a single stitch of your wardrobe? What if I want to put on clown makeup and join the circus? What if—”

“Okay. I get it.” And he got her. Not so difficult to believe after all, not when it was Lucas. That’s why the betrayal had hurt so much, because he’d twisted the knife with expert knowledge. “You’re saying we’ll figure it out.”

“Together. I love you and that will never change. It’s the only guarantee I’ve got. Well, I can also guarantee we’ll fight over the radio station. But I’m willing to overlook your terrible taste in music if it means I get a real wife out of the deal. Do I?”

Real.
Everything she’d been afraid to want until Lucas. The divorce deal was a flawed shield against a real relationship, but fear of losing something meaningful had squelched all her courage to reach for that dream.

She’d done her best to get rid of Lucas before he could hurt her, but he kept coming back. Maybe it was finally time to stop fighting it. Time to admit she loved him fiercely.

Could she take a chance on a marriage deal? Could she risk the possibilities, bad or good?

“No.” Mind made up, she inspected him through narrowed eyes and crossed her arms. “How is that fair? You get a real wife in exchange for exposure to my excellent taste in music. Yet I’ll be forced to listen to songs about cheating, honky-tonks and cheap beer? No deal. Find a pen and sign the copy of the papers right now unless you can agree to find a type of music we both like.”

His gaze played over her face, and when he smiled, the sun rose. No point in denying it. She’d given a huge piece of her heart to Lucas a long time ago, and he was offering to fill that hole with himself. Love had healed her, and now, she could let him do that.

“Opera?” he suggested and yanked her into his arms, engulfing her in the scent of clean pine. The scent of her real husband.

His mouth captured hers before she could argue opera was more a type of theater than a type of music. Lucas kissed her, and her heart became whole, then swelled, too big for her chest.

She pulled back a tiny bit, unwilling to be too far from him. “I really, really hope you meant it when you said you love me, because if you want a real wife, you’re going to have to suffer through a big, formal wedding. And I’m asking your mother to help plan it.”

He groaned. “I meant it. You know you’ll have to suffer through a real honeymoon in exchange, right?”

“With lots of real sex?
Dios,
the things I do for you.” With a tsk, she smiled. “I must love you a lot.”

“Well, then. Since we’re already married, the big, formal wedding is merely symbolic. So the honeymoon comes first.” He peeled back her robe and rolled his eyes at the tank top underneath. “Please. I’m begging you. Let me buy you some nice, tasteful sleepwear not made from cotton.”

“Not unless you let me teach you to dance.” His hands slid under the tank top and claimed her body, just like he’d claimed her heart. “Lucas,” she breathed.

Fergie squawked, “Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.”

Lucas laughed against Cia’s mouth. “That’s a deal.”

*

Even with Fran’s help, the wedding plans stretched over the course of two months. The real story was far too incredible, so Lucas smoothed over everyone’s questions with the partial truth—Cia’d had a change of heart about including everyone in their marriage celebration, and she wanted a lavish second ceremony.

Finally, after endless rounds of making decisions and sampling cake and addressing invitations, Cia clutched Abuelo’s arm and walked down the aisle to her husband. Then, nearly five hundred guests accompanied them to an extravagant reception, where the bride and groom danced to every song, be it fast or slow.

Lucas twirled Cia to one of his favorite country numbers and she sang along, not ashamed to admit she kind of liked it, twangy guitars and all. He gathered her close and smiled. “Was it worth it? The big wedding?”

“It’s everything I dreamed it would be. Exhausting but so wonderful.”

That morning, she’d begun to suspect the exhaustion wasn’t due to frantic wedding plans but another reason entirely. But she’d had no time to slip away and buy a pregnancy test. Tomorrow was soon enough to confirm it.

She couldn’t wait to find out for sure. A whole, intact heart allowed for plenty of possibilities, and, finally, she was in a place where the thought of a baby didn’t scare her blind. And if the test came back negative, they’d try some more. It was all in the journey and the pleasures to be had along the way.

When the music ended, Lucas escorted her to the table, and Fran flashed yet another proud smile. Cia touched the pearls around her neck and grinned at Fran and Andy in turn. She’d gained a family along with a husband.

Well, most of a family—Matthew hadn’t come back for the wedding and it weighed on Lucas. Hopefully she could cheer him up tomorrow with the news he’d started on the next generation of Wheelers a little earlier than expected.

Abuelo approached the table and took Cia’s hand. “I’m afraid this old man must retire for the evening, my dear. Lucas, I’ll be in your office a week from Monday to sign the papers. I’m a little sad to see the Manzanares complex change hands, but I couldn’t be happier with the deal you negotiated.”

“Anything for family. I’m glad to be of service.” Lucas clasped Abuelo’s outstretched hand and wished him a good evening.

Only after a knockdown, drag-out fight, which Cia refused to lose, had Lucas agreed to still represent Abuelo in the sale of Manzanares, even though he hadn’t followed through with the divorce. Seriously, her husband took integrity to a whole new level. When Cia pointed out she couldn’t trust any other real estate broker with Abuelo’s business except Lucas, he conceded.

Abuelo hadn’t budged on changing the terms of the trust, despite Cia’s zealous pleas, but she was okay with that. In lieu of wedding gifts, Cia and Lucas had asked for donations to the newly formed Wheeler Family Foundation, helmed quite expertly by Fran Wheeler, and the balance grew by leaps and bounds daily.

Every time Cia launched into an impassioned explanation about the work she and Fran were doing, and every time someone handed her another check, she could feel her mother smiling down in approval. Nothing could bring back her parents, but trusting Lucas with her heart had finally allowed Cia to close that chapter and embrace the next one.

She dreamed of forever, and Lucas Wheeler was exactly the man to give it to her.

*

Keep reading for an excerpt from
One Winter’s Night
by Brenda Jackson