He said, “You’re early.”
She replied, “So are you.” And now she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the person who’d sent her the note.
He pulled a hand through his already ruffled hair. “I can tell you’re surprised it was me.”
She was still trying to comprehend it. She was also trying to stop from fixating on his mouth. She even had the weirdly carnal urge to run her tongue along the chiseled edge of his jawline.
“Why did you call yourself Mr. X?” she asked, wishing she wasn’t having such bizarre thoughts about him.
“I heard that you’re a writer, and I thought you might enjoy a bit of intrigue.”
Allison only nodded. Besides being drawn to intrigue, being a freelance writer meant that she could travel and write from anywhere. Working in the States wasn’t a problem for her.
Rand gestured to a small, ornately designed bench adjacent to the statue. “We can sit, if you’d like. Or we can walk through the garden and talk. I’m good either way, as long as we keep our conversation private.”
“Let’s sit.” She didn’t know if she could walk and talk and breathe at the same time, not while she was in his company, anyway.
They made their way to the bench and sat side by side. His big, muscular arm was just centimeters from hers. But with how cozy the bench was, it couldn’t be helped. She should have chosen to stroll along the grounds instead, but she wasn’t going to suggest that they pop up and start walking now.
“Before we get to the green card business, I want to say that I’m sorry for what Rich Lowell did to you,” he began. “He fooled so many of us. Me included. But I didn’t see Rich all that much when he was impersonating Will. He spent more time in Dallas and abroad than he did in Royal.”
She had to ask, “Do you think Rich is really dead? Or do you think there could be more to this than meets the eye?”
“I don’t have all the facts, but I do know that the body was identified by a reliable source who assumed it was Will. So it sure seems as if he should be dead.” He paused for a second and added, “Will told me that the FBI sent the ashes from the urn out for DNA testing. The results aren’t in yet, but it’s probably just routine. Or I hope it is.”
Allison hoped so, too. “I hate that Rich used me the way he did. My heart still hurts from his betrayal, but giving him my life savings makes me feel like a total eejit.” When Rand gave her a perplexed look, she quickly clarified, “Sorry. Irish slang. It means idiot.”
He turned more fully toward her, angling his body on the bench. “I like the way you talk. Your brogue and whatnot.” He playfully added, “Did you know that Irish accents were voted as one of the sexiest in the world?”
Her heart scurried inside her chest. He’d just spun their conversation on its axis, taking it to a flirtatious level. “Who would vote on such a thing?”
“Folks on the internet. I can’t say I disagree. It is rather sexy.”
So was the slightly Southern way in which he talked. Not everyone in Texas sounded that way. He had a naughty twang that sent erotic ripples down her spine. Struggling to maintain her composure, she politely said, “I like your voice, too.”
“That’s good to know.” He furrowed his brow, squinting in the sun. “With what I have in mind, we need to like things about each other.”
Wondering what he meant, she waited for him to expound.
But instead, he asked, “Are you familiar with my position at Spark Energy Solutions?”
“I know that you were the second in command, and that Will was the CEO.” She also knew that it was a highly successful oil and energy company owned by Will’s family. “Initially, you worked under Will’s direction, but you also worked for Rich when you thought he was Will. Then, just recently, you took over as CEO when Will supposedly died. And now you’ll continue being the CEO until he can resume his life.” She tilted her head. “But what does any of that have to do with me getting a green card?”
“I need a wife, Allison. Someone who can help me combat my image and provide what people think is a sense of stability. In the past, the board of directors let my reputation slide. But now that I’m heading up the company, the chairmen are pressuring me to get my act together. They’re even threatening to fire me over it.” He paused for a beat. “There’s already enough uncertainty at work surrounding Will’s stolen identity and how long it’ll be before that gets resolved. The board can’t afford any issues with me.”
Allison could do no more than blink at him. Her mind had gone numb. “Are you suggesting that we marry?”
He nodded. “With the time constraints involved, we should do it as quickly as we can.”
Again, she blinked at him. Rand Gibson was as far from husband material as a man could get. Not only was he a social media sensation, with tons of female followers hanging on his every word and sharing his pictures, his photos were sometimes made into sexy memes, garnering him even more attention.
Allison didn’t follow him on social media because she didn’t want him or anyone else to know that she found him so interesting. But she’d been poking around on his pages for longer than she cared to admit.
He continued, “At first people will be speculating as to whether a country girl like you can keep a playboy like me in line. But we’ll make lots of public appearances and show them that you can.”
She had no idea what keeping a playboy in line was like. She was already paying the price for dallying with a con man, and now she was being propositioned by a drop-dead gorgeous, modern-day Don Juan. The idea of getting close to Rand scared her senseless. He was everything she should be trying to avoid. Hot and seductive, she thought, and oozing with wealth and charm. Just like Rich when she’d first gotten to know him.
“How long would this marriage last?” she asked.
“It takes about three months to get the immigration interview. I have a friend who works for the USCIS, so I can try to pull some strings and get it moved up. He can definitely get your security clearance done faster.”
She wasn’t surprised that someone as well-off and socially connected as Rand would know someone at the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services.
“We’ll have to work out a prenup that’s comfortable for both of us,” he said. “I don’t want things to get sticky later. But either way, after you get your green card and after I prove myself to the board, we can decide when we should split up. We’ll part amicably. Then after the divorce, we can go our separate ways and no one will be the wiser.”
“I’m not interested in a financial settlement, so a prenup wouldn’t be a problem.” Being dependent on Rand to replace what Rich had stolen wasn’t the answer to restoring her self-worth. She would rather make her own way, even if she struggled to do it.
“So what do you think of my idea?” he asked.
She tried not to frown. “Of marrying you? What you’re proposing is considered fraud. If immigration found out that we faked a marriage, there would be penalties involved. I suspect that your friend at the USCIS wouldn’t appreciate you dragging him into a situation like that, either.”
“I know, and that’s why we couldn’t tell anyone the