An Officer and a Millionaire / Mr Strictly Business: An Officer and a Millionaire / Mr Strictly Business

The room was so suddenly quiet that she could hear them both breathing. Sunlight streamed in through the open French doors and lay in a golden slash across the spring-green carpet. A slight breeze ruffled the curtains and carried with it the scents of roses and columbine from the garden just below her bedroom. Normally, she loved this room, found it peaceful, relaxing. Today, not so much.

“I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” he said tightly. “I’m off doing my job, serving my country. I’m not the one here taking advantage of a lonely old man.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was stiff and so was her spine.

“I don’t know,” he mused. “Seems pretty clear to me. You were his secretary and somehow convinced him that we got married. How you did it I don’t have any idea, but I’m going to find out.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” she said. “I just threw a ring on my finger, said, ‘Guess what, I’m married to your idiot grandson,’ and Simon believed me. Tell me, do you think your grandfather is really that foolish? You must, which means you’re not letting logic get in your way at all.”

“Logic?”

“Never mind, it’s probably something you’re unfamiliar with.”

A long minute ticked silently past as they stared at each other, but Margie was determined not to be the one to speak first. Her patience finally paid off.

His mouth worked and his features tightened until he looked as uncomfortable as any man could be before he said grudgingly, “About Simon’s heart attack. I suppose I should…thank you, for being with him that night.”

“You think?”

“I was on a mission,” he added as if she hadn’t spoken, “I didn’t find out about his heart attack until I returned. Then the crisis was over. I called him, if you’ll remember.”

“Very touching,” she snapped, remembering the pleased look on Simon’s face when his grandson had finally called to check on him. “A deeply personal phone call. Yet, you still didn’t bother to come and see him.”

“He was fine,” Hunter argued. “Besides, my team shipped out again almost immediately and—”

“Oh, I’m not the one who needs to hear your explanation,” she told him, “It’s Simon you should be talking to. Besides, I didn’t stay with Simon during his illness for your sake.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” It felt…odd, to be standing in the same room with the man she’d been legally married to for a year. Hunter Cabot had for so long lived in her mind only that having him here in person was more like a dream than the reality she’d been living with.

Strange, but in all the times she’d imagined her first meeting with Hunter Cabot, she’d never once thought they’d be embroiled in a huge argument right off the bat. But he’d started it, calling her a thief! So she didn’t regret any of the things she’d said to him. His features were still tight, but there was something else in his eyes besides anger now. Something she couldn’t quite read, and that was a little unsettling.

“Where is my grandfather now?”

“Probably in his study,” she muttered. “He spends most afternoons there.”

He nodded and left without another word to her.

Margie’s breath whooshed out in a rush as soon as he was gone and she hurriedly walked to the bed to plop down on the edge of the mattress. Staring down at her hands, she looked first at the wedding ring she’d picked out herself, then noticed her hands were shaking. Not surprising, really. Not every day she had a huge, gorgeous, furious man walk in on her in the shower.

“Naked. He saw me naked.” That really wasn’t the way she’d wanted to meet her husband for the first time. Especially because she still hadn’t found a way to lose those ten pounds she didn’t need, and her hair looked hideous, and she didn’t have any makeup on and—she groaned and slapped one hand over her eyes.

“For pity’s sake, Margie, it’s not like makeup would have transformed you into supermodel territory anyway.” She knew exactly what she looked like. Her mouth was too wide, her nose was too small and the freckles spattered across her cheeks defied all known foundations. She was not the kind of woman a man like Hunter Cabot would ever notice. “But then, it doesn’t matter what you look like, now, does it? It’s not as though you’re really married to the man.” Legally, yes. Really, no.

She flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the cool green ceiling. She hadn’t planned to meet her husband for the first time until after his grandfather had explained the whole situation. And it would’ve worked out just like it was supposed to have done if Hunter hadn’t shown up two weeks early, for pity’s sake.

So if you thought about it, this was all his fault.

But as Margie blindly stared at the ceiling, she had to admit that that knowledge didn’t make her feel any better.

Hunter moved through the familiar halls with a long, determined step, but no matter how fast he walked, he couldn’t leave that woman behind him. Her voice kept time with the hard thumps of his boot heels against the floor.

Lonely old man. Almost died. Ashamed.

Muttering curses under his breath, Hunter silenced that voice and hit the bottom of the stairs. Slapping one hand to the newel post, he made a sharp right turn and continued down the carpeted hall toward the last door on the left.

He opened the door without knocking and stepped inside. This room at least remained the same. Unchanged. Dark paneling on the walls, polished to a high gloss, gleamed in the sunlight pouring through the windows. Dark brown leather armchairs and sofas were sprinkled throughout the room, and behind the wide, mahogany desk where his grandfather sat, floor-to-ceiling bookcases displayed everything from the classics to fictional thrillers.

But Hunter’s gaze locked on the smiling old man slowly pushing himself to his feet. “Grandfather.”

“Hunter, boy! Good to see you! You’re early,” he added, coming around the edge of the desk with careful steps. “Didn’t expect you for a couple of weeks yet.”

Hunter walked to meet the man who had always been the one constant in his life. When he was twelve years old, Hunter’s parents died in a car accident and he’d come to live with his paternal grandfather. Simon had stepped into the void in his grandson’s life and had always seemed to Hunter to be larger than life. Strong, sure, confident.

Now, though, Hunter noticed for the first time that the years were finally catching up with his grandfather. Something cold and hard fisted around Hunter’s heart as he hugged the older man and actually felt a new frailty about Simon. He swallowed back the questions crowding his throat and demanding release, and he forced himself to be patient.

Stepping back, the old man waved one hand at a chair and said, “Sit, sit. Are you sure you should be walking around with that wound in your side?”

“I’m fine, Grandfather,” Hunter said, reassuring Simon as he took a seat in the chair opposite him. He could wait for answers about the woman upstairs. For a moment or two, anyway. “Wasn’t more than a scratch, really.”

“They don’t put you in the hospital for four days with a scratch, boy.”

True, but he didn’t want Simon worrying anymore than he could help. Hunter had caught a bullet on his last mission, but it had been more painful than life-threatening. Now all that remained was an ache if he moved too fast and a scar from the hastily maneuvered field surgery he’d had to perform on himself, since he’d gotten separated from his team members.

Smiling, he said only, “They don’t let you out of the hospital after only four days if it’s serious.”

“That’s good, then. You had me worried, boy.”

“I know. Sorry.”

Simon waved the apology aside. “Nothing to be sorry for, Hunter. It’s your job, I know that.”

He still wasn’t happy about Hunter’s decision to join the military, though. Simon had wanted him to take over the Cabot family dynasty. To sit behind a desk and oversee the many different threads of the empire Simon’s father had started so long ago. But Hunter had never been interested in banking or any other kind of business that would tie him to a nine-to-five lifestyle. He’d wanted adventure. He’d wanted to do something important. Serving his country filled that need.

“Still,” Simon was saying, with a touch of an all-too-familiar scheming note to his voice, “you’re not going to be able to do this job forever, are you?”

Hunter scowled to see a calculating gleam in his grandfather’s eyes. He hated to admit even to himself that he’d been thinking along the same lines lately. Frankly, since he was shot. Five years ago, it wouldn’t have happened and he knew it. He’d have been quicker. Spotted the ambush sooner. Been able to get to cover fast enough to avoid the damn bullet that had nailed him.

But his career choices were not what he wanted to talk about. And since he couldn’t think of an easy introduction into the subject at hand, he simply blurted out, “Forget my job for the moment. Grandfather, that woman upstairs is not my wife.”

Simon crossed his legs, folded his hands together atop his flat abdomen and gave his grandson a smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Okay, clearly this is going to be tougher than I thought,” Hunter murmured and stood up. Rubbing one hand across the back of his neck, he reminded himself that the woman had had a year to worm her way into Simon’s affections. It was going to take more than a minute to make him see the truth. “I’ve never met that woman, Grandfather. Whatever she’s told you is a lie.”

Simon smiled and followed Hunter’s progress as he paced back and forth. “She hasn’t told me anything, Hunter.”

He stopped and shot his grandfather a hard look. “So you just let anybody who claims to be my wife move in and take over my suite?”

Simon chuckled. Probably not a good sign.

“You don’t understand,” the old man said. “She didn’t lie to me about being married to you, because she didn’t have to. I’m the one who arranged the marriage.”

“You did what?” Hunter stared at his grandfather in complete disbelief. He didn’t even know what to say. What the hell could he say?“ You arranged—you can’t do that.”

“Can and did,” Simon assured him, looking altogether pleased with himself. “The idea came to me after that heart attack last year.”

“What idea?” Hunter walked back to his chair and sat down, his gaze pinned on the older man grinning at him.

Simon’s white eyebrows lifted. “Why, the answer to my problem, of course. There I was, in the hospital. There you were, off only God knew where, and there was Margie.”

“Margie.”

“My assistant.”

“Your—right. She told me that.” Assistant turned granddaughter-in-law, apparently.

“Very organized soul, Margie,” Simon mused thoughtfully. “Always on top of things. Knows how to get things done.”

“I’ll bet.”

Simon frowned at him. “None of this was Margie’s doing, boy. This was my idea. You remember that.”

Hunter took a tight grip on his rising temper and forced himself to speak slowly and calmly. It wasn’t easy. “What exactly was your idea?”

“I needed family here!” Shifting in his chair, Simon lifted one arm to the chair arm, and his fingers began to tap on the soft leather. “Blast it, decisions had to be made, and though I’d told Margie what I wanted, she didn’t have the authority to make the doctors do a damn thing. Could have been bad for me, but I was lucky.”

Instantly, Hunter’s mind filled with images of Simon lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines that monitored his heart, his breathing, while doctors bustled and a short, curvy redhead tried to issue orders. He hated like hell that he hadn’t been there for the old man when he’d needed Hunter most. But feeling guilt didn’t mean he understood how he’d ended up with a wife!

“So, you could have given her power of attorney,” Hunter said.

“Might have,” his grandfather allowed, and his tapping fingers slowed a bit. “But I didn’t. Instead, I convinced Margie to marry you.”

“You—”

“It was the easiest way I could see. I want family around me, boy, and you’re not here.”

More guilt came slamming down on Hunter until he was half surprised he could breathe under the weight of it. Still…“You just can’t marry me off without even mentioning it.”

“I’ve got two words for you, Hunter,” his grandfather said, “—proxy marriage.”

“Proxy? How can you even do that without my signature?”

“I got your signature,” Simon told him with a sly smile. “And if you’d bother to read the Cabot financial papers I send to you for your signature, you’d have noticed the proxy marriage certificate.”

Damn it. Simon had him there. Whenever the packets of papers arrived for him, Hunter merely signed where indicated and sent them back. The family business wasn’t his life. The Navy, was. And he kept his two worlds completely separate. No doubt his slippery grandfather had realized that and exploited it. Admiration warred with irritation.

“Ah, good. You realize I’m right.” Simon’s fingers quickened, and the tapping on the old leather came fast and furious, belying the old man’s attempt at a casual pose. “I stood in for you in the marriage ceremony. I knew that since you couldn’t get home for my heart attack, you wouldn’t have been able to get home for your own wedding—”

“—not that I was invited…”

“—my friend Judge Harris did the deed, and we kept it quiet. I sent Margie off on a week’s vacation once I got better, and we put out that you and she eloped.”

“Eloped.”

“Worked out fine. Figured there was no rush in telling you.”

“Especially since I didn’t want a wedding.”

Simon frowned at him and Hunter remembered being thirteen years old and standing in this very study, trying to explain why he’d hit a baseball through the study window. The same sense of shame and discomfort he’d felt then washed over him now. The only difference was he was no longer a kid to be put in his place.

“How’d she talk you into this, Simon?”

In answer, his grandfather pushed himself out of the chair, drew himself up to his full height and gave Hunter a look that used to chill him to his bones. “You think I’m some old fool taken in by a pretty face and a gold-digging nature? You seriously believe I’m that far gone, boy?”

“What else am I supposed to believe?” Hunter stood up too and met Simon’s hard stare with one of his own. “I come home for a visit—”

“After two years,” Simon threw in.

“—and you tell me you arranged to marry me off to someone I’ve never met just so you can have family close by?”

“You can watch your tone with me, boy. I’m not senile yet, you know.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You were thinking it.” Simon turned, walked to his desk and sat down behind his personal power center. From that very chair, Simon had run the Cabot family fortunes for more than five decades. “And I’ll tell you something else. Margie didn’t want any part of this. It was all my idea.”

“And she went along out of the goodness of her heart.” Sarcasm was so thick in Hunter’s tone that even he heard it.

“’Course not. This was business, pure and simple. I’m paying her five million dollars.”

“Five—” Hunter sucked in a gulp of air. “So she is in it for the money. And you said she’s not a gold digger?”

“She damn well isn’t, and you’ll figure that out for yourself after you spend some time with her.” Simon picked up a pen from the desk and twirled it absentmindedly between his fingers. “Had to browbeat her into taking the money and doing this for me. She’s a good girl and she works hard. She’s done a lot of good for this town, too, and she’s done real well by your name.”

“How nice for me.” Hunter shook his head at the sensation of a velvet-lined trap snapping shut around him.

“You should be grateful. I picked you out a wife who’s a hard worker, and she’s got a big heart as well.”

“Grateful.” Hunter moved in, leaned both hands on his grandfather’s desk and ground out tightly, “What I’ll be grateful for is a damn annulment, Simon. Or even a divorce. As soon as possible.”

Disgusted, his grandfather muttered, “I should have known you wouldn’t appreciate this.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

“If you’d open your eyes and see her as I do, you’d change your tune.” Simon looked so damn smug, so self-satisfied that Hunter felt a surge of temper rise up and grab the base of his throat. For his whole damn life, Simon had been the one he could count on. The man who had taught him what duty and honor meant. The one who’d instilled in Hunter a sense of right and wrong. Now, he was blithely explaining how he’d set Hunter up with a marriage he didn’t want all for Simon’s own convenience.

“My ‘tune’ doesn’t need changing,” Hunter told him. “Just why the hell should I ‘appreciate’ having a wife I didn’t want in the first place? One you’re paying.”

“I told you. She didn’t want the money. Had to talk her into accepting it.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll bet she was really hard to convince, too. Five million dollars? Damn it, Simon, what were you thinking?”

“You weren’t here,” the older man said softly. “I’m getting on, Hunter, and you weren’t here. Margie is.”

Again, he felt that soft, swift stab of guilt—then he buried it. “She’s your secretary.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Sure, now,” Hunter allowed.

“You don’t know her,” Simon said, and his voice was whisper soft. “She came here to build a life for herself and she’s done it. And she’s been a good wife to you—”

“I haven’t been here!”

“—and a good granddaughter to me.”

All right, he could at least admit that much to himself, Hunter thought. Gold digger or not, the curvy redhead had at least apparently been good to Simon. When Hunter had finally heard about his grandfather’s brush with death, guilt had gnawed him for not being there when the old man had needed him. But the nature of his job meant that he couldn’t always be around. He lived and died according to orders.

So, knowing that Simon hadn’t been alone during that frightening time in his life was good. And for that, he could be grateful. Not that he’d be telling that to the curvy redhead with the quick temper.

“Margie deserves your respect,” Simon warned, lifting one finger to point at him.

“For marrying a man she never met to keep her boss happy.” Hunter nodded sagely. “Yeah, that spells respect to me.”

Simon scowled at him. “You never did know enough to listen to me.”

“I listen. I’m just not interested in what you’re saying. I don’t want a wife.” All right, he’d been doing some thinking about his future lately. Maybe he’d even considered getting married, for about thirty seconds. But thinking about doing something and actually doing it were two wildly different things. And if he did eventually decide to get married, he’d be the one picking out his own damn wife, thanks.

“You could do worse,” Simon grumbled.

“Yeah? I don’t know about that. A woman who has to be paid to marry me pretty much sounds like the bottom of the barrel.”

“Shows how much you know about anything,” Simon said, and his fingers tapped restlessly again. “Margie’s the cream of the crop.”

“Not much of a harvest around here, then,” Hunter murmured, then louder, added, “I won’t stay married to her.”

Simon blew out a breath. “No, I didn’t suppose you would. Though you should know Margie feels the same way you do.”

Hunter wasn’t so sure. She may have had the old man fooled but not him. With five million dollars at stake, a woman might be willing to do just about anything.

“She’s been good to me, and I won’t have you embarrassing her.”

“Oh yeah. Wouldn’t want to embarrass anybody.”

His grandfather sighed dramatically, then kept talking as if Hunter hadn’t said a word. “She’s planned a big party for my eightieth birthday, and I don’t want anything spoiling that, either.”

“A hell of a lot of demands flying around here,” Hunter said under his breath.

“So, until the party’s over, I expect you to act like the husband everyone in town knows you are.”

“Excuse me?” He hadn’t expected that.

“You heard me. People in Springville like Margie. They respect her. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you make her a laughingstock. You’ll be leaving again, no doubt—” He paused as if waiting for confirmation.

Hunter nodded. “I have to report back in about a month.”

Another frown. “Well, I’ll still be here and so will Margie, hopefully, so I don’t want her life ruined because you were angry.”

Hunter’s back teeth ground together. “No, wouldn’t want Margie inconvenienced.”

Simon went on again, ignoring Hunter’s comments completely. “If after the party you still want the annulment—”

“—I will.”

“—I won’t stop you and I’m sure Margie won’t. But until then, you’ll do this my way.”

Hunter looked at his grandfather and recognized the set-in-stone expression on the old man’s face. There wouldn’t be any budging him on this one. Once Simon Cabot made up his mind about something, nothing less than a nuclear strike would change it. Irritation swamped Hunter, and the uncomfortable sensation of being trapped came right along in its wake.

But Simon was an old man. And Hunter owed him. So he’d do this his grandfather’s way. He’d be here for the party, and then before he went back to the base, he’d set annulment proceedings into action.

“Fine.” Hunter tamped down the frustration bubbling within and swallowed back the urge to argue. “When I’m in town, I’ll act married.”

“You’ll act it here, too.”

“What?”

“You hard of hearing all of a sudden? You should get that checked.” A sly smile curved Simon’s mouth briefly before he became all business again. “As long as you’re home, you’re a married man. I won’t have the servants treating Margie badly. Everyone in this household knows you’re married.”

Hunter was still reeling from that piece of news when a soft knock on the study door sounded out. He turned around as the door opened, and there stood his “wife.”

Chapter Three

“Simon?” Margie asked, blatantly ignoring Hunter. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine, fine. I was just explaining the situation to Hunter.”

“Good.” Though judging from the look on the younger man’s face at the moment, Margie thought he hadn’t been too happy with his grandfather’s explanation. Well, neither was she.

She hadn’t wanted to marry Hunter, but she’d done it for Simon. And whether Hunter believed it or not, the five million dollars hadn’t swayed her. What had convinced her to go along with Simon’s plan had been the lost, frightened look in the old man’s eyes that had convinced her to take part in what she’d recognized right away as a crazy plan.

And for the last year, she’d finally felt the sense of belonging she’d always wanted. She’d had a grandfather. A home. A place to call her own. People to care for—people who cared for her.

To Margie, that was priceless.

But she had to admit that being married to a Hunter who wasn’t around was far easier than being married to the man in person. Looking at him now, he seemed too…big. His shoulders, his broad chest, his piercing blue eyes.

His scowl.

Frowning right back at him, she then shifted her gaze to Simon and said simply, “The doctor’s here.”

“Blast it.” The older Cabot quickly picked up a sheaf of papers from atop his desk and busily started leafing through them. “Margie, tell him I’m too busy to see him today. Try me next week. Better yet, next month.”

She smiled, since she was more than accustomed to Simon’s frantic attempts to avoid his doctor. “There’s no getting out of it, Simon.”

“Is there a problem?” Hunter asked.

Margie reluctantly looked at him again, met his gaze and felt a bolt of something hot and wicked slice through her. The man had incredible eyes. Which, of course, meant nothing to her. Especially since great eyes did not make up for a crabby, arrogant nature. Still, he looked a little worried for his grandfather, and that was enough to touch Margie, so she hurried to reassure him. “No, it’s just his checkup. The doctor comes here to see Simon every couple of weeks since Simon can’t be trusted to keep an appointment in town.”