Her hand tightened around her glass. “As delightful as your offer sounds,” she said with sarcasm, “I really can’t accept it.”
His gaze penetrated to the bone. “You’re between a rock and a hard place. How else will you get the money?”
“Perhaps I’ll go to the newspapers and sell them a story. I’m sure they’d be very interested in your offer.”
His look was of faint amusement. “But then I’d have to tell them about your financial crisis. And I’m sure they’d be equally as interested in that, if not more.”
Damn him. She had to protect her mother, especially now, when Felicia badly needed to get her career back on track. After all, the one time she’d really needed her mother, Felicia had been there for her, helping her through the divorce. Not to mention, her mother had given her money to help start up her fashion design business in the first place.
But as Olivia looked at Alex, her brow crinkled in a frown. What was this actually about? What was his reasoning behind it all? A man like Valente didn’t need to marry her. His own family had plenty of wealth and privilege. She couldn’t see how Valente’s Woman could possibly fail in America. Not with Alex Valente running the show.
She tilted her head and considered him. “There’s more to your offer than you’re saying.”
Wary surprise flickered in his eyes. He took a sip of his Scotch before answering. “That’s very perceptive of you. You’re a sharp lady.”
Her heart gave a little flutter at the compliment. “This isn’t about me,” she reminded him.
Sudden tension tautened the hard line of his shoulders. “My father thinks it’s time I married. He says he’ll sell the business and give the proceeds all away to charity if I don’t, and neither of my two brothers nor myself will get a cent.”
She blinked in shock. This man would hate to be told what to do. “That seems rather drastic.”
“My father never does anything in half measures,” he said, somewhat cynically. “He’s being forced to retire for health reasons, and he’s tasked me with the American launch. I expect he’ll want me to take over as head of the company, only he won’t do that until I’m settled.”
“So you’re after your father’s approval then?” she said, somewhat surprised by the thought. Not that there was anything wrong with wanting a parent’s approval. It was just thatAlex seemed too independent, too remote to worry about what anyone else thought.
Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. “No, I couldn’t care less about his approval,” he said, confirming her intuition. “This is for the sake of the company and for my two younger brothers.”
She frowned. “It’s a big request.”
His mouth set in a stubborn line. “I’ve decided to play along for a year.”
“So our marriage wouldn’t be permanent then?”
“No.”
This was beginning to sound much more favorable. “And we wouldn’t be sleeping together?”
The corner of his lips curved up, yet his eyes darkened. “This isn’t make-believe, Olivia. It would be a real marriage.”
Her stomach flipped at the thought of them in bed together.
Making love together.
Feeling flushed, she had to drag her eyes away from him…then back. “If the Cannington name is all you want, you could always marry my mother,” she joked, but instantly regretted it. Her mother was still a beautiful woman. And she’d been married three times already.
His gaze strayed over her. “No. You’re the one I want.”
His comment snatched her breath away. With a supreme effort, she mentally fought to put up a wall. “I’ve been married before, you know.”
His eyes narrowed. “I know.”
Panic rose in her throat. She couldn’t do it. No, not for the business. Not for her mother. Not even for a year. The heartache had been too much last time.
Somehow she managed to get a grip. “But I’m divorced. Doesn’t that make me less than perfect?” she said, giving him an out, putting a stop to all this craziness. She had to.
Someone had to.
A frown creased the skin between his brows. “No, it doesn’t.”
A warm feeling bounced inside her chest, but she tried to stay strong. “I swore I’d never marry again.”
His eyes took on a softer look. “This wouldn’t be for love, Olivia. You wouldn’t have to worry about me hurting you.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Heartache and marriage usually went together. It had happened in her mother’s three marriages, and in her own one.
Alex placed his half-empty glass on the table. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think things over.”
“How generous,” she quipped. Somehow she didn’t think a lifetime was enough to think things over with this man.
“Be home tomorrow night. I’ll drop by your apartment.”
“Or you could just phone me,” she mocked, using the same comment he’d used when she’d first arrived.
“No chance. I’m not letting you escape.”
Her chin lifted. “You may not have a choice.”
“You may not either.”
Just then the waiter returned and she bit her lip to stop from making a remark. Fine. She’d allow him the last word.
This time.
Olivia spent a restless night thinking over Alex’s offer, trying to decide whether she needed to take the drastic action of marrying a man for money. One minute she convinced herself she could do it, then she couldn’t. She would, then she wouldn’t.
Heavens, if it’d just been for the business’s sake she’d dismiss it out of hand and take her chances with a bank. But the opportunity to earn some money without needing to pay it back, and without needing to explain why half of that money needed to go to her mother, was sobering.
Yet marriage?
She couldn’t.
And then she reminded herself how her mother had helped her through the divorce. Shattered by Eric’s betrayal, the last thing Olivia had expected was that her mother would bring her back home to Australia for a few months to recover. Olivia wouldn’t forget her mother being there for her.
But marriage to Alex? Dear Lord, she wasn’t sure she could ever learn to trust another man.
She froze. Or did she really need to worry about trust? Alex had said it wasn’t a love match, so at least he was being upfront about it.
The next evening she opened her apartment door to him with a noncommittal expression, but her pulse had quickened. There was no doubt he affected her. Everything about him suggested an intense and indelible masculinity that made her tingle.
This isn’t make-believe, Olivia. It would be a real marriage.
She swallowed hard and closed the door behind him. “Would you like a drink?”
He stood a few feet away in the open-plan living room. “What do you have?”
She pasted on a false smile. “Prune juice?”
He gave a husky chuckle. “Coffee if you have it.”
“I do.” She went to turn toward the kitchen.
“Remember those words.”
She