Temporary Bride (8 page)

She looked up, puzzled. "But aren't you and Shane going
back to San Francisco?"

Shane answered. "No. Not tonight. Go with Mark and enjoy
yourself and tomorrow we'll take you back to your hometown and make
whatever arrangements have to be made about the fire."

Afterward Karen knew it would have taken her days to
handle all the business details that Mark and Shane took care of in a
few hours. They insisted on seeing the burned-out ruin of her house and
talking to the police about it. They were told that the police
suspected vandals had set the fire either accidentally or deliberately
to cover their mischief. Everything was gone— even her car,
which had been in the garage. Shane and Mark were closeted with the
realtor for almost an hour and she was called in only when there were
papers to sign. She suspected that there had been a few debts that
Shane had paid but he refused to discuss it and, anyway, there was
nothing she could do about it now. It just put her further into his
debt.

On Tuesday, Shane and Mark dropped Karen at the house and
went back to San Francisco, and Karen had her first confrontation with
Mrs. Whitney since the unpleasantness over her room. When Mrs. Whitney
came to announce in stiff, formal tones that dinner was ready to be
served Karen said, "Oh, Mrs. Whitney, it's not necessary to serve my
meals in the dining room when I'm here alone. I'll eat in the kitchen
with the rest of you."

Mrs. Whitney's lips pressed together and her voice was
filled with disdain as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Miss, I couldn't possibly
allow that. Mr. McKittrick left specific orders that you are a guest.
It would never do for you to take your meals with the servants. If you
would like to be seated I will serve the first course."

Her words were servile, exaggeratedly respectful, but she
made no attempt to hide the hate that shone from her eyes. Karen knew
she had made an enemy—a dangerous one!

On Friday, Shane and Mark came back. This time Karen was
not scrubbing Shane's bathtub when he got there but pacing up and down
the front porch, dodging hanging baskets of begonias and wishing she
could calm down and be cool and collected. She'd spent her days working
hard so she wouldn't have to think, but by evening her eyes burned too
badly to continue her cataloguing and she had nothing to do but ponder
over Shane and his preposterous proposal. He wasn't proposing to
her
so why should she lose sleep over it? But she did. Part of the time she
was incensed at his callousness. At other times she was filled with
compassion for the man who had been hurt so badly by his mother's
desertion that it warped his whole attitude toward women. But worst of
all were the times when her undisciplined mind dwelt on the woman he
would choose for the mother of his child. She would be like Audrey,
tall and curvacious, beautiful and well educated with a pedigree like a
show dog. In her mind's eye she could see Shane holding this paragon of
a woman in his arms as he slowly undressed her, all the while trailing
kisses over the bare skin he was exposing.

She banged her head on the scarlet begonia for the fifth
time and indulged in a few well-chosen swear words. It was then that
Shane chose to swing his powerful car into the driveway. He ignored
Mark sitting in the seat beside him and slammed the door behind him as
Karen ran across the porch. He strode past her with only a brief
greeting and went into the house.

After an uncomfortable dinner, they had coffee in the den,
a smaller, more intimate room than the living room, and Karen could no
longer hold back the question that had been tormenting her all evening.
She was sitting at one end of the tan leather sofa and Mark sat at the
other end. Thick fog, no stranger to the Monterey coast, had settled in
with its inevitable chill and Shane had just finished lighting a fire
in the stone fireplace that covered one wall and was sitting on the
raised hearth with a margarita in one hand and a cigarette in the
other. Karen drained her coffee cup and put it on the highly polished
redwood coffee table as she said, "Shane, have you had any answers to
your ad?"

He made no pretense of not knowing what she was talking
about. "Yes. They've been coming in all week. Mark tells me there are
more than a hundred."

Karen gasped. "So many! Have you—have you made a
decision yet?"

She held her breath, hoping he'd say no, afraid he'd say
yes. He didn't get a chance to say anything, Mark answered for him.
"Fat chance!" he snorted. "I've narrowed the pile down to thirty who
seem to be qualified but Shane won't even look at the applications."

"I've been busy," Shane snapped.

"Not so busy you couldn't have taken an hour or so to go
through them and tell me which girls you want interviewed. I'd like to
get the appointments set up as soon as possible." Mark took a long swig
of his whiskey.

"Why do you insist on a stranger, Shane? You must know
plenty of women with class and breeding who would qualify? Why
advertise for a woman you don't know? Aren't you taking an awful
chance?"

Shane ground out his cigarette and looked at her as if he
wondered how she could ask such a stupid question. "None of the women I
know would agree to my terms. They all have plenty of money and
security and if one of them married me it would be because of the
social and political advantages of being Mrs. Shane McKittrick. She
might give me the baby I want, but she'd never give me the divorce."

He twirled the stem of his glass between his hands as he
continued. "And don't lose any sleep worrying about my future wife's
background. I had you thoroughly checked out before I ever came to see
you and I'll do the same with anyone else I choose."

Karen couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But you
can't get that kind of information without the person's permission!"

"Oh, come on, Karen, are you really that naive?" His tone
was bitter. "With enough money and influence you can buy anything you
want. For instance, I know you had German measles at the age of five,
your mother's illness was not hereditary, your father's heart attack
was a myocardial infarction and that you are still, shall we say,
'innocent'."

Karen gasped, struck speechless with shock. It wasn't
possible! Information like that just wasn't given out without
permission from the patient! His last words echoed in her mind. She
dropped her flushed face in her hands and a small shudder shook her.
Mark reached over and patted her knee; Shane reacted instantly.

"Leave her alone, damn it! She has to learn the facts of
life sometime. She can't live in a dream world forever."

"You don't have to be so brutal!" Mark was seething with
anger. "There was no need to embarrass her!"

Shane looked away and said almost to himself, "There was a
time when being a virgin was a cause for pride, not shame."

Mark tensed, and Karen knew she'd better change the
subject or she'd have to deal with a full-blown quarrel. Before Mark
could retort, she turned to Shane and asked, "If you insist on a
divorce and custody of the baby as soon as it's born, who's going to
raise it? A baby needs its mother."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Shane exploded. "Look at Carrie
Tyler and little Danny. You told me yourself that she was a rotten
mother. The child was much better off with you, the baby-sitter."

Karen cringed. He was using an extreme case but she
couldn't deny that some women simply weren't cut out to be mothers.
Shane was still watching her, waiting for an answer, and she said the
first thing that came to her.

"That's true and Danny will suffer for it. I still say an
infant needs someone to love it, and care for it, and teach it how to
respond to that love and care."

Shane set down his glass so hard that it shattered on the
stone hearth. He didn't seem to notice as he glared at her. "All right,
I won't argue that point. But just because a woman has a baby doesn't
mean she's qualified to care for it. I'll hire a warm, maternal woman
to care for my child. In fact, that's a job I
will
hire you for. Would you like to raise my son, Karen?"

Mark sat forward and his voice rang through the room.
"Shane!" There was a warning in his tone.

Karen knew Shane was being sarcastic, prodding her, hoping
to find her weak points, but she wondered if he knew how badly that
last thrust had hurt! She jumped up and faced him, unable to deal with
the emotions that were building up in her as she said, "No! I'm going
to have my own children. If you want me to raise your son, Shane,
you'll have to marry me and make me his mother!"

She stopped, appalled by what she had just suggested. The
tension mounted as both Shane and Mark stared at her, open mouthed with
amazement. What was the matter with her? How could she even think about
taking part in Shane's monstrous scheme, let alone talk about it? She
would never marry knowing ahead of time that it would end in divorce.
If she loved a man she would want to be married to him all the rest of
her life, and if she didn't love him nothing could induce her to marry
him. But what if she loved him and he didn't love her? Would she be
willing to bargain for whatever amount of time he would give her? Was
she in love with Shane? She shuddered inwardly as the truth finally
occurred to her. How could she have been so blind? She must have been
in love with Shane almost since she met him—at least, since
their picnic. She was in love with a man who would never love anyone!

She tore her gaze away from his shocked face and turned so
she couldn't see him. Her voice trembled as she said, "Shane, if I had
your child would you let me keep him with me. Would you let me raise
him?"

A strangled sound came from Mark, but it was Shane's hands
she felt on her shoulders, his body she leaned back against. "I might,"
he said huskily, "if you would agree to turn him over to me when he's
older."

She turned to look at him and then she was in his arms,
his mouth on hers blotting out all doubts about her feelings for him.
She clung to him, afraid he would push her away, but he molded her to
him and she could feel the quickening of his desire for her. The
knowledge enflamed her and her lips parted under his as her fingers
twisted themselves in his dark hair.

Somewhere in the background a door slammed and she knew
Mark had stormed out, upset and angry. She didn't care, but apparently
the same sound brought Shane back to reality because he broke off the
kiss and nuzzled the side of her neck, his voice hoarse with passion. "Don't tempt me, Karen. I'm only human and especially
vulnerable where you're concerned."

He picked her up and carried her to the couch, where he
sat down with her across his lap. She caressed his cheek with her hand
and he kissed her again, this time making a determined effort to keep
his passion under control.

"You'd be a fool to get involved with me," he whispered
against the corner of her mouth.

"I know." She moved her head slightly so his lips were on
hers again.

"Then why?" It was almost a cry of pain.

Some instinct warned her against telling him the
truth—that she was in love with him and hoped that eventually
he would love her, too. She knew he would send her away immediately. He
didn't want the ties of love. All he wanted was passion—and a
son.

His hand cupped her breast and she kissed the pulse that
was hammering at the base of his throat as she lied. "I'm not sure.
Maybe I like the idea of lifelong financial security."

She felt him stiffen and his hand moved to tilt her face
toward him. "So, my little child-woman is mercenary after all. I should
have known." The bitterness in his voice whipped her as he pushed her
off his lap. "Well, if you want to sell yourself to me I don't see why
I shouldn't take advantage of it. We should have a very superior child
together."

She knew she'd hurt him but couldn't understand how. She'd
thought she was saying what he wanted to hear. With a weary sigh, he
leaned back and closed his eyes. For the first time Karen saw the lines
of exhaustion in his face. She'd often heard him talking business with
Mark and knew of the killing schedule he kept during the week, and last
weekend he had entertained a large number of guests here at his home.
Now she'd managed to upset him again. Maybe he'd rest if he were more
comfortable.

She reached over and started to unknot his tie as she
spoke, hesitantly. "Shane, I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to
say." She pulled the tie carefully from around his neck and unbuttoned
the first three buttons of his shirt. "You've made it clear that all
you want is a baby."

He pulled her into his arms. She snuggled against him and
laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder as she started to unbutton
his vest.

He stroked his long fingers through her tumbled brown hair
and kissed her forehead as he said in a tired voice, "It's all right;
I'm only getting what I asked for, which is more than I deserve."

His fingers under her chin lifted her face to his once
more. His dark eyes searched her green ones as he murmured, "And,
Karen, if you want to remain a virgin until our wedding night, you'd
better stop undressing me."

The two weeks between Karen's decision to marry Shane and
the wedding were the most bewildering and hectic fourteen days she'd
ever spent. First there was the premarital contract to be drawn up.
She'd never even heard of a premarital contract before, and when Shane
mentioned it, Mark turned purple and sputtered, "Karen's not signing
anything without my consent as her legal representative!"

Mark used every possible argument to talk Karen out of
marrying Shane. "You're too young—you don't know what you're
doing! Shane will use you and then send you away, ruthlessly, without
shame or guilt. If you're that desperate for security, marry me!" He
paused as though startled by what he had said, then grinned. "I'm a
little in love with you already. With a small amount of encouragement I
could start thinking in terms of wedding rings and wet diapers."