Wolf's Fake Bride (Shifter Marriage Service Book 1)

"I don't see why not," said Trey.

She called the next day. His lawyer was no more agreeable than previously. When Jo asked after the date for exchanging contracts, she was evasive, but after some waffling, she gave her Turner’s office number.

Jo called right away, despite Holly having said he was out of town. You know, trust, but confirm.

She asked for Saul Turner, gave her name, and they put her through immediately.

"Turner," he said in a droll tone into the phone.

"Mr. Turner. Good morning! It’s Jo Claybourne."

There was a dead silence. Clearly, he had no idea who she was. The silence lasted several seconds, until it clicked with him.

"Yes, Ms. Claybourne." Another pause. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to you," she said firmly.

Silence. "Why is that necessary?"

"I'd like to know what's going on with the house. Your estate agent says you have another buyer, your solicitor won't give me a date for exchanging contracts. I want to know exactly what you're doing."

Silence. Then a sigh. "Yes, I see. I'm afraid this will have to wait a few days. I'm extremely busy right now."

"So am I," Jo snapped. "I want to know where I stand. If you plan to go back on our deal, you might at least have the courtesy to tell me about it."

"I'm expected in a meeting. I don't have time for this right now. Marie shouldn't have put you through."

"So, fire her! And then tell me when you can see me."

Silence. Jo could feel the icy blasts coming down the telephone line.

"Not this week. Maybe toward the end of next week."

"I'm afraid that won't do. What about the weekend?"

Jo could feel him starting to object, but before he could tell her he was off to Timbuktu or wherever, she continued.

"Mr. Turner, if you have half an hour's free time on Saturday evening, maybe you'd like to come and have a drink with me, so we can discuss this sale. I won't take up much of your time."

The silence, this time, lasted even longer.

"Where?" he asked.

“Carlo’s down on Rockmore.”

Jo had never been there but had been past and considered it a couple of times. It seemed like a decent place.

"All right. I'll be there at six."

"Thank you. I look forward to seeing you."

“Sure thing,” he replied and hung up without anther word.

Rude, but it was something that he agreed, at least.CHAPTER TWELVEOver the next two days, his behavior gave her considerable pause for thought. What had he meant by that? After all the fuss he had made about how busy he was, why on earth would he agree to seeing her? For the pleasure of blowing it all out of the water? Making legal mincemeat out of her? Doubling the price of the house and watching her face fall?

For moral support, she invited Trey along. He agreed to come for an hour, but no more. It would at least send a message that she had some backup, of sorts. Jo began to feel better. One hour should be plenty.

“Perhaps he will tell me who these mystery buyers are. Maybe they are rich Arabs, bringing the money in cash on camel back. It’s just taking them a while to get here.”

"Yes, that occurred to me," said Trey, completely seriously. “Did he say anything to you about a payment in cash?"

"You mean under the table? No."

"Then that could be what he wants. It's common practice. Less to declare for tax."

We were in a coffee shop near his office, having a quick latte. The weather had changed in the last few days, and the temperature had soared. Maybe that was a good omen. The sun had shone into the boathouse all afternoon. It was a welcome break from the winter-like temps that had seemed to creep in early in the season.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“I am,” I replied, dropping a tip on the table and standing to make my way down toward the bar and grill where we were to meet Mr. Turner.

"Oh my God, he's here already. How do I look?" she gasped as she got a glimpse of him through the window.

Jo had given a lot of thought to her appearance that evening. The nice-girl look was definitely out. She wanted to appear both serious and determined. The kind of person who expected to get what she wanted. Black seemed like a good idea, but not just any black. She did not want Turner to think she had dressed up for him. In the end, she had opted for chinos and a conservative black sweater, classic and powerful.

After half an hour's dithering in front of the mirror, she completed the ensemble with black and antique bronze earrings, her hair in a messy knot that was feminine but serious.

"What do you care how you look if he's thrown you over Middle Eastern oil barons and is coming here with his filet knife to finish you off?" said Trey.