The Wedding Bargain

Chapter Three

D rew didn’t look back. The long walk into the nearest town cleared his head. Heaven knew, he needed it. Stillwater hadn’t changed much, he noted. Built around a quaint town square, it was vintage New England.

A clear, crystal-blue lake provided recreational activities and drew tourists year-round. The fall foliage season was now in full swing, which meant that every hotel and motel within miles was probably filled to capacity. The town was all a bit too familiar.

Drew had misspent his youth here, then lived through more years than he cared to admit regretting that turbulent period. He’d grown up in the neighboring town of Henderson. At the age of eighteen, like a lot of restless teens, he’d thought his home-town was too small to hold him.

So he’d gone looking for some excitement in Stillwater, which was equally small, but the scenery was different, especially the girls. He’d found one girl he thought was special, but she’d proved him wrong. The scars from that experience had lingered a long time.

Now, through some stroke of misfortune, he was linked up with Olivia, who was clearly bad luck—as if he couldn’t come up with enough of his own. It continued.

For one thing, the gas station was closed. But they had an emergency phone number. Drew dialed it on a pay phone and got quick results. A mechanic agreed to come out with a tow truck—just in case.

While Drew waited for the man to arrive, he leaned his shoulder against the phone booth. A short overhang sheltered him from the rain. His gaze wandered down Main Street, drawn to the Stillwater Inn. The place had a new front, new owners. But it was still rustic, overlooking the lake. The water lapped at the dock.

Long ago, he’d fallen in love with a waitress from the Stillwater Inn. They’d both been hotheaded, rebellious and far too young to handle their emotions. As a result, they’d argued, broken up and made up so many times that he lost count. And in between one of those times, Laurel slept with another guy.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

She’d tried to trap Drew into marriage by claiming the child she was expecting was his—instead of Jared Carlisle’s. She’d died tragically young and left her twin sister, Rachel, to raise Dylan. Drew winced at the memory. Laurel had done more than damage his ego. The hell of it was, he might have given in to impulse and married her if she hadn’t lied. In the end, his father paid her off. She’d wanted the Pierce money, not Drew.

At least he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. For too long, he’d relied on his family’s wealth and position. With it, he was nothing—a spoiled, arrogant young man. Without it, he didn’t know who he was.

Fifteen minutes later, the repair truck pulled up to the curb. A mechanic called out, “You the guy with a breakdown?”

Drew smiled. He was close. “Yeah, that’s me. I checked the car battery. It won’t hold a charge.”

“Well, let’s go have a look. You coming?” he added when Drew didn’t make a move toward the truck.

Drew wasn’t sure of his next move. In all honesty, he was tempted to give the guy directions and be on his way, but the memory of a woman’s resigned smile stopped him. Olivia had rightly guessed he was a loner; she probably thought he was a loser, as well. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t argue either label, which should free him from obligation.

She obviously didn’t expect him back. He didn’t know why she didn’t expect more from men, or from life. But for some reason, he wanted to prove her wrong, at least in this instance.

The mechanic said curtly, “You coming? I don’t have all night.” The man’s impatience did it.

With a resigned sigh, Drew climbed into the truck. He didn’t like the thought of Olivia dealing with the situation on her own. Face it, he felt protective. He frowned at the admission, not liking that at all. After today, he was never going to see her again. Until then, what was a few more hours of inconvenience?

“You’re Drew Pierce,” the mechanic said after they’d been driving awhile. His gaze remained fixed on the two-lane highway.

“Yes.” Drew braced himself for the rest.

“I remember seeing your picture in the newspapers.”

That wasn’t surprising. The trial had been a three-ring circus. Instead of reacting to the man’s open challenge, Drew raised a casual eyebrow. “That so?”

When Drew failed to react, the man backed down. “Yeah, well…guess it was long ago. Most folks have forgotten.”

Drew doubted that very much. Small towns had long memories and even longer grudges. He had vivid memories of faces filled with hatred and contempt. The judge had thrown the book at Drew, giving him the maximum sentence. Well, he’d served his time. He wasn’t about to defend himself all over again.

“That’s the car.” Drew spotted the small blue car, relieved to cut the subject short.

It didn’t take long to install a new battery.

Drew turned the key in the ignition. Nothing.

With a shake of his head, the mechanic pronounced, “The car’s in rough shape. It needs some other new parts.” He listed just a few. “I can order them. Could take some time, though.”

“It’s not my car.” Drew frowned as the awkwardness of the situation began to sink in. He didn’t have money for repairs. In addition, he wasn’t going anywhere that night. Neither was Olivia. They were stranded. “You can ask the owner.”

The man frowned in confusion. “Fine with me. Where?”

“Back there.” Drew nodded toward the rough logging road.

Fortunately, the tow truck had four-wheel drive. When they reached the camp, Drew was surprised to see the place softly lit. Smoke came from the chimney, and Olivia stood in the door.

Waiting.

“Hi.” She smiled a warm greeting, all flushed-faced and sleepy-eyed, and Drew could feel himself falling, tumbling—

The mechanic broke the spell. “Looks like you got a cozy setup here.” He was leering at Olivia.

Drew shoved his hands in his pockets. He wanted to hit the guy. Instead, he took a deep breath, admitting that the man’s reaction was only natural. Olivia was a sight to behold. He couldn’t deny his own gut response. Since the first moment he set eyes on her, he’d wanted to punch every man who looked at Olivia—which was pure insanity. Or something else. Whatever it was, he’d get over it.

The mechanic introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Walt.”

Olivia smiled that megawatt smile. “How do you do, Walt?”

Now the mechanic had a name.

Drew liked him less and less.

The door opened wider.

Olivia hid her pleasure at Drew’s return, instinctively protecting herself until she could control her response. Half-asleep, she’d heard the sound of an engine, at first surprised, then relieved to see Drew. Perhaps that was why her heart was racing. Despite all the inner alarm bells issuing a warning, she liked him.

And he was proving more dependable than a lot of men.

Could he be the solution to all her problems?

“Won’t you come in?” She tried to focus her attention on the mechanic, deeply aware of Drew when he moved to stand near the fireplace, unbuttoning his jacket, then leaning his shoulder against the mantel. “Do you think you can fix my car, Walt?”

Entering the rustic cabin, Walt took off his hat. “That’s what we have to talk about. I replaced the battery—that’s part of the problem, but not all. I can get new parts, but it will take a day—or two.”

“Are the parts expensive?”

Walt named his price, assuring her it was fair. “In the meantime, I can give you a lift to town. Don’t know if you’ll find a room, though. Things are pretty well booked up with tourists.” He scratched his head. “Wish I could be more help.”

Mentally calculating the cost of parts, plus labor, plus towing costs—the list kept growing—Olivia knew she could afford a motel room or car repairs, but not both.

“I suppose we could stay here.” She glanced at Drew. “I mean, we are here. And there’s no sense looking for a place for just one night, is there?” When he raised an eyebrow, she rushed on. “It’s warm and dry.” And free. “What do you think?”

Drew shrugged. “Guess that settles it.”

Olivia smiled in relief. “Guess so.”

For a moment, their gazes met, a head-on collision. Olivia flushed at the expression in his eyes. Odd how they could agree so completely, yet leave so many questions unanswered.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Walt said a moment later when he turned to leave.

“We’re sure,” Drew said dryly.

Walt gave Drew a lift back to the car to get his backpack and Olivia’s one piece of luggage, which she’d brought in case she’d decided to stay overnight in Bangor. Drew couldn’t help wishing she had—they might never have met.

After seeing Walt off, Drew walked back to the cabin, where he turned on the generator before going inside. He found Olivia asleep on one of the cots. She’d removed all but the white tailored shirt and set her clothes out to dry.

Wrapped in a blanket, cocooned, with her arms curled around a pillow, she looked so young. Pale shadows lined her eyes; she looked exhausted. Yet she’d never complained. Not once. Her insistence on looking at the bright side of the situation was almost comical. It was also touching.

Tearing his gaze away, Drew frowned, not liking the direction of his thoughts. He looked around the room. She’d found some sheets and a blanket and made up his cot. It looked narrow, meant for one, not all that inviting.

With a weary sigh, Drew took off his jacket, then stripped down before he dropped onto the cot. It felt lumpy and hard, but he’d slept on worse. He closed his eyes. A room, at least fifteen feet wide, separated him from Olivia.

A warm fire crackled in the grate. A log fell. Wind battered the small log building. Rain hit the metal roof. Then there was Olivia.

He could hear her breathing.

How the hell was he supposed to sleep?

Hours later the sun poured through the dusty windows.

Olivia awoke, disoriented at first, to find herself wrapped in her wool blanket, instead of her familiar quilt. Her face flushed with heat when her gaze landed on her roommate. Drew was asleep. He lay flat on his back. With the morning light pouring through the window, Olivia took in his broad shoulders, his broad muscled chest covered with coarse dark hair.

Black stubble covered his chin. His facial features were perfectly aligned, almost too beautiful for a man, except for the strength in his square jaw. In sleep he looked younger, more vulnerable, but his brow was wrinkled in a frown, as if his dreams brought him no peace.

Hastily Olivia looked away, aware that she’d invaded some private area. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion.

At the sight of her small overnight case on the table, Olivia rose, picked up the case and tiptoed from the room. The night before, she’d discovered a utilitarian bathroom. She flipped on a light switch, pleased to note that Drew must have turned on the generator, which meant there was hot water.

Olivia showered in the small metal cubicle, then dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday to impress her lawyer with her maturity. She needn’t have bothered. He’d advised her to find a husband, adding, “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have a problem.” Like most men, he refused to look past the feminine package.

Admittedly she was guilty of using that package to her advantage on occasion, but she had no respect for men she could manipulate, which was one more reason to appreciate Drew Pierce. She knew he was attracted to her, but he seemed equally determined not to do act on it. Olivia slowly buttoned her shirt.

She couldn’t deny the obvious—Drew Pierce could be the solution to all her problems. Since he was “just passing through” as he put it, she wondered if he’d be willing to stick around Henderson long enough to attach his name to a marriage certificate.

There was no provision in the will stating they had to live together. In six months the marriage could be annulled. No strings and no one would get hurt.

She wondered if Drew could be bought, then recoiled at the idea of even asking him to marry her. But what if? What if she asked and what if he said yes? She trembled. Would she be willing to pay the price?

In her heart, the part of her that always remained carefully guarded, Olivia knew that marriage should be a permanent bond, but things didn’t always work out as they should.

From what she knew about Drew’s past, she doubted if he had many romantic illusions that might get in the way, or many scruples, for that matter. But then, what did she know about him? His critics were harsh, but she sensed there was more to him than gossip revealed.

Perhaps it was unwise, but she couldn’t deny that something in Drew aroused her sympathy. Her stepfather had been a cop. She’d had enough exposure to the criminal justice system to know that it broke some men. She wondered how Drew had survived it. Had it left him hurt and wounded in some way? Did that account for his long silences, his lack of warmth?

Olivia turned away, uncomfortable with the thought, and headed into the kitchen. She reached for a pot and started to hum….

Drew awoke abruptly.

He wasn’t sure what had disturbed him. But his first thought was that this was day four. His fourth day of freedom! With his eyes closed, he could hear the blessed sound of silence. It was interrupted by the sound of a woman’s soft humming.

Drew frowned, recalling his present situation—all the inconveniences, delays and disruptions—and they all had to do with Olivia DeAngelis. He could hear her puttering around the kitchen, opening cupboards, rattling pots and pans. When a teakettle whistled, he almost jumped out of his skin.

With a groan, Drew pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Not in the mood to face Olivia’s early-morning chirpiness, he slipped out the front door.

The storm had cleared the air. The air was cool and crisp and dry. The breeze felt good. Drew raised his gaze to the treetops scraping a brilliant blue sky. The sun filtered through, setting the maple leaves on fire. Nature’s celebration.

But autumn was all illusion, a time when nature signaled the end of a green growing season with bright gaudy displays of color, a time when life seemed exaggerated and desperate. As each day narrowed, there were clear signs that winter was on its way. It could be beautiful, but brutal, if you were unprepared…if you were alone. And Drew had forfeited every close tie.

Olivia interrupted his downward mood. “Good morning.” She’d come outside bearing gifts—a steaming mug of coffee.

“Morning,” he said, taking her in at a glance. A calf-length green skirt had replaced her tight black jeans—which was a relief. But when she moved, the skirt “swished” and he was lost again, enchanted by her intrinsic femininity. The coffee was strong. He took a bracing swallow.

“Do you need sugar?”

“No.” His voice sounded husky.

She smiled. “That’s just as well. There isn’t any. Apart from that,” she said, as if he had a burning desire to know each domestic detail, “the kitchen’s pretty well stocked. I found some coffee and powdered milk.”

He lifted his cup. “So I see.”

“There are some canned goods. I checked the expiration dates and they’re all safe. I was going to make pancakes for breakfast, but there aren’t any eggs. There is such a thing as powdered eggs, but I suppose that would be expecting too much.” She laughed, her eyes bright and alive. She was so alive. “How do you feel about canned hash or baked beans for breakfast?”

More choices.

Drew took another gulp of coffee. “Hash sounds good.”

“Tuna casserole for lunch?”

He nodded, but didn’t dare ask what went into that besides the tuna. She continued to chatter.

When she ran out of menu items, she started on Drew. “So what do you do—for work, I mean?”

He said dryly, “Let’s just say I’m between jobs at the moment.” Had he actually ever held down a real job, one that wasn’t manufactured for him, one that he cared about?

Olivia chuckled. “Any particular field?”

He shrugged. “Not really.” He had a college degree in forestry gathering dust somewhere, not that it amounted to much. “How about you? What do you do?”

Unconsciously provocative, with the breeze playing with the hem of her skirt, she stared at him with her wide-spaced gray eyes. Her eyelashes were long and lush, fanning her flushed cheeks. “I’m a hooker.”

Drew choked on his coffee, gulping in air when he finally recovered his voice. “What did you say?”

Clearly pleased to have captured his full attention, she repeated, “I’m a hooker. I hook rugs. You know, cut and dyed, originally designed, handcrafted wool rugs?” She laughed at his expression. “I have an art degree, which doesn’t earn much in this part of Maine. I’m not cut out for the starving artist-in-a-garret route, so I had to find something practical to do. I do all kinds of needlecrafts, as well.”

“And that pays the bills?”

“Yes.” A mischievous dimple played around her pursed mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.” The little witch didn’t look sorry at all; in fact, she looked downright smug.

“You didn’t shock me,” he said, trying not to laugh.

Her gray eyes twinkled. “Oh, yes, I did.”

He considered kissing that sassy mouth, then thought better of it. “You do know that kind of talk could land you in a hell of a lot of trouble in certain circles.”

The fact that she felt safe with him had registered.

She shrugged. “It’s only a joke. Most people think it’s pretty funny.”

His gaze ran over her, every delectable inch. He shook his head, marveling at her innocence. “You’re lucky it was me. Not one of those guys at that diner last night.”

Olivia didn’t feel lucky. In fact, she felt odd, and her pulse had quickened with the sweep of his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, wondering why she was apologizing. Maybe the joke was on her. She’d felt his scorching glance—which only made her more aware of his maleness…and her helpless response.

But at least he was smiling!

Flustered, Olivia looked past him to the surrounding forest. “It’s so beautiful out here. Have you ever seen a tree with leaves that shade of banana gold?” she asked, knowing she sounded like a tourist. “What is it?”

He chuckled. “That’s a birch tree. Where did you live in California?” He leaned against the porch rail, looking at her.

Under that lingering gaze, Olivia felt herself flushing. “I grew up in lots of places before winding up in San Francisco.” She smiled, unaware that it was wistful, remembering the frequent moves and upheavals of her childhood. Her mother was always looking for something better than what she had, something different. Many times, Olivia had felt like the grown-up.

“Do you have family in California?” he asked.

“There’s no one close.” She shook her head.

“Not anymore. How about your family?”

Drew looked away. “They’re scattered around. We don’t stay in touch.” He knew it was the perfect opening. He should tell her about his situation.

Part of him wished she knew about his past, and part of him dreaded her finding out, especially from someone else. He should tell her. When he didn’t add any details, she turned toward the house.

“Well, I should do something about a meal,” she said. And suddenly he wanted to call her back.

But the moment passed.

After breakfast, Drew felt restless, confined. He decided to go for a walk, just because he could.

When informed of his plan, Olivia tilted her head. “That sounds like fun. Mind if I join you?”

Drew hid his irritation. “Sure.” He didn’t know how to stop her—short of locking her in the cabin—or telling her she couldn’t come. And somehow he couldn’t do either.

He grabbed his denim jacket, then waited while she took a jacket from her case. She pulled it on, tugging at the sleeve. The jacket was a tapestry of richly colored floral embroidery.

He recognized her unique touch. “Did you make that?”

She nodded, “Mmm.” Obviously a girl of many talents.

Outside, a breeze caught her hair. Bright leaves fell all around, carpeting the ground in colors of red, gold and russet. The crunch of dry leaves under Drew’s feet felt familiar. As a youth, he’d felt a special affinity for the woods. As he grew older, he’d forgotten that—just one of the things he’d taken for granted and ignored when it was his for the taking. Perhaps in his arrogance, a man could only appreciate the things that were hard-won. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and woods.

They followed a path down to the crystal-clear lake. With Olivia tagging along, Drew soon realized that a silent communion with nature wasn’t in the cards. She was full of information.

Her chatter irritated him at first; but then the gentle rhythm of feminine tones soothed a loneliness he’d never acknowledged. A deep well that had never been filled. The realization startled him. He’d never thought of a woman as a companion. A soul mate. Perhaps if he had, he might have had better luck finding one.

She sighed, drawing his attention back. She was a feast for the eyes—eyes that had only seen drab concrete walls for so long. Like spun gold, yellow birch leaves fluttered down around her. “I was hoping to see some wildlife,” she said.

He chuckled. “Hush, you’re scaring them all away.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, then turned her toward the water’s edge. “Just wait a few minutes, then you’ll see.”

She leaned back slightly, and Drew caught his breath at the brush of her skirt against his thigh.

As predicted, before long, a doe with her fawn appeared, taking dainty steps out of the woods. They stopped by the water, dipping their heads to drink. Under his hands, Olivia stood absolutely still—until the doe prodded her offspring back up the steep bank and into the woods.

“How absolutely beautiful,” she whispered.

She turned, standing close. Her breasts were a tantalizing inch from his chest. All it took was one deep breath. At the physical contact, her lips parted on a small gasp.

“Olivia,” he murmured her name. Like a starving man, he wanted to drag her close and kiss her—taste her—but he knew he wouldn’t stop there.

Slowly releasing her, he stepped back.

Revealing her confusion, her hand shook as she brushed her hair back from her face. “Drew?”