“Look, lady, these ‘circumstances’ you keep referring to make me think that what you’re suggesting comes real close to fraud.”
“It’s not fraud! I’ve discussed this with my attorney. He’s assured me what I’m doing is legal. And you don’t have to declare me your spouse or dependent or whatever the military term is. I promise, I won’t make any claim on you or the air force.”
“Doesn’t matter whether you make a claim or not. If we’re married, we’re married. That entitles you to whatever privileges come with the ring.” He shoved back his chair. “Sorry, you’ll have to find another—”
“I’ll pay you.”
“’Scuse me?”
“Five thousand when you sign the wedding certificate, another five when we divorce.”
Okay, now he was pissed. Ben almost started to blister her with a few well-chosen words about what she could do with her money but the sudden flash of desperation in her eyes had him biting back the words.
“Please!” The table wobbled as she pushed to her feet and threw a quick glance around the noisy bar. “Can we go somewhere quieter? So I can explain these...these special circumstances? Five minutes,” she pleaded. “Please. Give me just another five minutes.”
If Ben had a lick of sense he would’ve wished her a happy life and rejoined his buddies. Now that his anger had cooled, though, he wanted to hear what the hell was behind her crazy proposal.
“My ride’s outside. We can talk there.”
She started for the exit while Ben detoured to tell his friends that he was stepping out for a bit.
“Riiight,” Dingo drawled. “Have fun.”
“And find out where I can get one of those shirts,” Swish called after him.
The hot desert night hit with a wallop after the air-conditioned bar. Ben shrugged it off as he caught up with Alexis.
“I’m parked over here. Careful.”
He took her elbow to steer her around a man-size pothole. A relic of the old Route 66 heyday, the Cactus Café had long passed its prime. Half the bulbs in the illuminated sign that gave the place its name had burned out. The rest shed only a flickering green glow over the pitted dirt lot.
He beeped the locks on his muscled-up Chevy Tahoe and opened the passenger door for her. She had a long step up from the running board but Ben resisted the temptation to provide any help with a palm under her rear. Once behind the wheel, he keyed the ignition and lowered all four windows to let out the trapped air.
“Okay,” he commented as he settled against his seat, “the clock’s ticking.”
“My sister married a single dad with a young daughter. Janet—my sister—adored the girl. Then, last year, Janet was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer and I moved to Albuquerque to help take care of her. She died within six months of the initial diagnosis and I’ve had custody of her stepdaughter, Maria, since.”
“Why did you get custody instead of the kid’s father?”
“Because the scumbag walked out on Janet less than a week after she found out she had cancer. And he’s now in prison for dealing drugs.”
She kept her voice flat and the words succinct, with no hint of the anguish Ben knew she had to have gone through.
“I want to legally adopt Maria but her father won’t agree to the adoption.”
“Why not?”
“Spite. Pure and vicious and vengeful.” Her lip curled. “Before he got busted for drugs, I went after him for child support. He got hauled into court several times. That pissed him off so much he would cut off his own nose to spite me.”
“He sounds like a real winner.”
“A real loser, you mean.”
She stared out the open window for a few moments, presenting a profile that showed a taut, angry jaw. When she faced Ben again, he had to admire her rigid self-control.
“The court awarded me temporary custody. Since Maria and I aren’t related by blood, though, the judge refused to revoke her father’s parental rights and approve an adoption over his objections. Especially since I would be a single mom. Judge Hendricks,” she said with a twist of her lips, “doesn’t hold a high opinion of single, working women attempting to acquire a ready-made family.”
“Which is where I come in,” Ben drawled, enlightened.
“Right.” Her eyes were dark pools in the flickering light. “I don’t want a husband, but I need one. Temporarily.”
“I guess I can see that. But why me, for God’s sake? We barely know each other. Surely you have better candidates to pick from.”
“No, you’re perfect.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “I must have performed better in Vegas than I remember.”
The quip didn’t raise an answering laugh, and her total lack of response told him she really meant this absurd proposition.
“I’ll admit the sex was pretty good...” she said with a shrug.
“Thanks.”
“Okay, extremely good. But I’m going to be up-front with you. Sex can’t play in any deal we work out. Our marriage has to be in name only. I can’t risk getting emotionally involved. Not with Maria to consider. And you don’t want any entanglements. You made that clear in Vegas.”
Damn! He must’ve come on like a complete jerk. At least he hadn’t lied to her. Still, her blunt assertion that all he’d been interested in was getting her horizontal hit too close to the mark.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he countered drily, “but sex was the only thing we had in common in Vegas. With that off the table, I’m having a little trouble seeing why you think I’m the perfect choice.”
“Because you’re military. That’s a plus in this city. With such a large percentage of the population either working on or associated with the base, Albuquerque is nothing if not pro military. A husband in uniform has got to play in my favor with the judge.”
She hunched sideways, her shoulder wedged against the door and her face dead serious in the dim light.
“As an added bonus, you’re Special Ops. That means you’re gone more than you’re home. Your absence is a built-in excuse if the court orders an unscheduled home visit and finds no husband in residence.”
“Convenient,” he drawled.
“Yes, it is.” She must have sensed she hadn’t convinced him. Her voice took on an urgent note. “I won’t make any demands on you, Kincaid, or tie you down. I promise! And you’ll be helping a little girl who’s lost almost her entire world.”
Still Ben hesitated. The scheme edged too close to fraud in his mind. He was tossing possible legal ramifications around in his mind when she fumbled her phone out of the little purse slung over one shoulder.
“Here.” She opened the phone and jabbed the photo icon. “This is Maria.”
The lit screen displayed a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl with an impish smile and a doll cuddled up to her cheek.
“She’s a great kid. And really smart. She downloads a new book from the library every week. And...” She broke off, her voice thickening. “She helps in my business. I use her to model my line of kids’ clothing.”
When she feathered a finger over the sparkly red heart on the girl’s T-shirt, Ben caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and