She knew exactly what this sophisticated man saw. She was no beauty. She was too thin, and if she was ever going to get boobs, she hoped it was before she was old enough for them to sag. Her mutilated hair was scraped away from her face and piled untidily on top of her head like orange and yellow straw. All she had going for her were her eyes. Some trucker had once told her they looked like cow eyes. She wasn’t so sure it was a compliment, but at least he’d been sincere.
“How old are you?”
“Boy, you’re persistent. Has anyone ever told you no?”
“One too many times. How old?”
Jessie tilted her head and eyed him with undisguised curiosity. He appeared rich, spoiled and used to getting his own way. He had beautiful hands. Long, strong, tanned fingers with clean, shiny nails. Jessie always noticed hands.
She automatically hid her bitten nails behind her back. “Twenty…five.”
He laughed. It sounded rusty. “Nice try, honey.”
“Twenty-one.”
“Legal.”
Jessie backed up against the refrigerator as he strolled toward her. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance of anyone coming in at this hour of the night. He could do anything to her, and no one would know. She flinched when he touched her face. She really shouldn’t have been sarcastic last week when the car had been stolen and she’d asked God, “What else can happen?” God didn’t like sarcasm. It was Jessie’s curse. She sighed. She supposed this guy was better than being struck by lightning.
“Perfect.” He turned her chin this way and that, his hand warm on her skin. He smelled even better close up. Jessie’s mouth actually watered. Instinctively, she understood he had no sexual interest in her, no need to control or dominate. Her heart wasn’t pounding because she was afraid of him…not very anyway.
“How about this, pal? I give you ten seconds to take your hands off me, or I call the cops?” His hand dropped, but the ghost of his light, warm touch lingered on her skin. “What do you want from me?” Jessie asked hoarsely.
“I want you to marry me. Now. Tonight. We’ll drive into Tahoe, get married and I’ll have you back in time for your next shift.”
“You’re crazy!”
“I’m desperate,” he countered, voice grim.
Who isn’t, pal? “Why me?” Jessie slid out of his reach and walked back into the brightly lit diner. He was right behind her. He grabbed a mug off the stack behind the counter and followed her back to his table by the window.
What on earth was a guy like this doing here? The diner wasn’t his kind of place. The only reason people stopped here at all was that it was right on the California border into Nevada. The small coffee shop mirrored a million others across the country. Red vinyl seats, worn down by a million butts, beige Formica tables scarred by cigarette burns, tacky Christmas decorations. The invasive smell of grease and food had permeated the plastic plants hanging in dusty profusion from toggle hooks in the yellowed ceiling.
Jessie tried to ignore the décor. Sometimes she physically ached for beauty. For stability. For some damn thing that couldn’t be conned, stolen or sweet-talked from her.
She wasn’t opposed to working, but it would be nice to get a break for a change. Unfortunately she wasn’t delusional enough to believe a total stranger would stroll into the diner two days before Christmas and sweep her off her worn tennies and lay all that at her feet.
“I’ll make this short and sweet.” The stranger took the carafe out of her hand and motioned her to the opposite seat, then filled both cups and placed the coffeepot in the neutral territory between them. Intrigued in spite of herself, Jessie flopped down on the scarred vinyl seat.
“This is purely a business proposition.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. It fell neatly back in place. Figures. “Here’s the situation. My father and his brother owned a development company. My father died ten years ago, he left the company to my uncle Simon with the understanding his half would in turn go to me. I’ve worked my ass off while my cousin Paul gallivants around the world doing God knows what. That company is fifty percent mine. I’ve earned it, damn it. Now Simon wants to retire, but he insists Paul and I settle down before he gives his company to a couple of ‘playboys’—his quote. My uncle, in his infinite wisdom, has decided Paul and I should settle down and get married.”
Jessie’s eyed him skeptically. “For real?”
He nodded curtly. “Unfortunately, yes. To top it all off, the first one to marry gets controlling shares. Simon is obsessed with this ludicrous notion.”
“So, what’s the problem? A good-looking, rich guy like you must have a gazillion women to choose from.”
“I asked someone,” he said tightly and with obvious reluctance. “She said yes—to my cousin.”
Jessie cradled her forgotten mug between her hands. “Ouch. There must be someone else you cou—”
“They’re getting married in San Francisco tomorrow at noon. Our meeting up tonight is going to work out to both our advantages. I’m sure you’d like financial freedom. Do whatever you like? Go anywhere? Sure you do. And all I want is a contract marriage. I’m not interested in emotional entanglements. I don’t want a real wife, I want a wife on paper. Now. Tonight.”
He glanced down at her 34A chest and her name tag. “Marry me, Vera. I’ll give you a monthly allowance for as long as you live. Hell. I’ll buy this damn diner for you if you want it.”
Jessie stifled an hysterical laugh. Her name tag had been left over from the last waitress, and she hadn’t cared what people called her. “I don’t want the diner.” Just looking at him made her silly heart do summersaults.
“Listen, having control of this company means everything to me.” His eyes glowed pale and determined. “Surely you’ve wanted something this badly in your life?” He leaned forward. “Do this for me, and when the time comes, if there’s something you want more than your next breath, I’ll make it happen. You have my word on it.”
“Anything, huh?”
“Anything.”
Lust at first sight. The attraction she felt for this man was undeniable. But then what was not to attract? He was unbearably handsome, strong, powerful, wealthy and, most dangerous of all, he needed her. The attraction was obviously not reciprocated in the least. However, Cinderella hadn’t complained when her prince whipped her out of the kitchen.
“How do I know you’re on the level?” Oh, please, be serious.
He pulled a business card from his wafer-thin leather wallet and a cell phone from his overcoat pocket. “Here’s my lawyer’s card. Call him, confirm who I am, ask about my uncle’s ultimatum.”
Jessie took the card. She was nuts, she was crazy, she was out of her mind for even considering his proposition…. What did she have to lose?
She reached for the phone and began punching in the numbers before she thought to ask, “What’s your name?”
“Joshua Falcon.”
The man on the other end of the phone was not happy to be woken by a lunatic stranger at midnight. Jessie stumbled through enough questions to confirm that Joshua Falcon was who he said he was, and was richer than Croesus.
The lawyer wanted to talk to Mr. Falcon. Right now. Jessie handed him the phone and slumped back, openly eavesdropping.
Watching her, he spoke into the phone. “You’re damn right I’m serious.” He listened for a while. “In a diner on the California-Nevada border.” He looked over at her, his pale eyes narrowing. “Why wouldn’t she? She’s probably getting minimum wage and living in a cramped apartment with her cat. I’ll fax a copy of the