Bride Of Convenience. Susan Fox

A craving that had little or nothing to do with high-minded and hazy romantic sentiment but yet everything to do with bodily urges and lust.

      Yes, that was it: lust. Something that could be powerfully and potently felt, but something too volatile and flesh-driven not to burn up quickly. Love was something pure and tender and sweet, something that occurred in the mind and in the heart, and endured.

      Lust was primitive and indiscriminate, and involved only baser sensibilities. Lust was all around, but it certainly didn’t make for a better society, and it certainly was nothing to base a marriage on.

      And neither was the desperate need for money. Stacey folded her hands together in her lap and resisted the impulse to introduce some harmless bit of conversation to help pass the time on the ride home. It was better that Oren McClain realized now how little they had in common.

      Since many men relied on their women to take care of the social niceties of polite conversation, dropping the burden in his lap might make him realize that a little sooner and he’d lose interest.

      There were better women in the world who were more suited to him and his rural way of life, and it would be a shame if he wasted any more time or thought on a frivolous ninny like her.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THEY rode the elevator in continued silence. It was almost as if the tension between them was building with each floor they passed until, all too soon, they’d reached her floor and were stepping out.

      There’d be no stiffly polite “Good night, Mr. McClain,” at the door tonight. Something had happened in the cab on the ride back from supper, and Stacey couldn’t discern exactly what it was or how she’d known it. All she was sure of was that she’d sensed that a decision had been made, and that her companion had pledged himself to it.

      Clinging to her poise, she unlocked her door and led the way into the large apartment. It seemed even more silent and tense here, as if her secrets were lurking, keeping still to avoid discovery and yet just as apt to suddenly spring out of hiding.

      Of course, there was nothing lurking behind anything. Instead, it was her conscience that was nettling her and making itself sharply felt. And it needed to nettle her because cowardice was having a heyday, and she was all but crossing her fingers in the hope that Oren McClain would repeat his marriage proposal tonight.

      Because she’d also made a decision in the taxi: to accept his proposal. But then they’d walked into her building and she’d decided to turn him down. When they’d reached her floor, she’d reversed her decision again and decided to marry him.

      She’d have to keep her desperate financial troubles from him but she had enough money left to keep the true state of her situation a secret, at least for a time. And yet, wasn’t it wrong to hide the truth?

      Secrets, particularly enormous ones like hers, couldn’t make for a successful marriage. A surreptitious glance at the big man told her she’d be an idiot to cross him. If he was unhappy with her, or she disappointed him too much, they’d have zero chance at anything livable together.

      Though he was open and uncomplicated and straightforward, that didn’t necessarily translate to being long-suffering or self-sacrificing or easygoing. He’d have expectations of her. Big ones. But what would they be exactly?

      Common sense told her that she’d disappointed herself too much not to also disappoint him. And marrying a man so different from her, particularly this soon, was asking for trouble. She’d had too much failure and trouble lately to risk landing herself in more, though at the moment she couldn’t think of anything worse than facing what she would by the end of the week. Or what would come after that.