Remember When (Foster Saga 1)

If he’d kissed her then, she would have bolted; if he’d released her from the gentle hold of his hands, she’d have run for her life. But when he slid his hand around the back of her nape and pressed her face against his chest in a strangely paternal gesture, Diana’s remaining resistance suddenly collapsed. He was offering her, personally and professionally, a safe haven for a year . . . He was offering her his protection . . . He was offering to rescue her from humiliation, anxiety, and stress.

He was offering all that to Diana, who had been exhausted, disillusioned, and angry earlier, but who was now beginning to enjoy the increasingly delicious mindless languor induced by more alcohol than she normally consumed in an average month and by a man who made everything seem simple and easy. Cole was offering to rescue her and cherish her this very night. All she had to do was nod her head and it would be over.

Above her, his voice was a whisper lightly stirring her hair. “We can leave in an hour and be back here in time for breakfast.”

Diana swallowed and closed her eyes, blinking back sudden tears that turned the small gold studs on his shirt into blurry little knots. She tried to say something, but the words lodged in her throat behind a huge lump of fear and hope and relief.

“All you have to do is give me your word that for a period of one year, you will do exactly what I’m offering to do—which is to give a convincing performance for all the world to see that we are truly and happily married.”

Diana finally dragged sound through the giant constriction that seemed to start in the pit of her stomach and reach to her chin. “We don’t even live in the same city,” she protested weakly.

“Which makes our pretense that much easier to maintain. Our separate business interests require me to maintain a Dallas residence, while yours require you to keep your residence in Houston. Since the two cities are only a forty-five minute commute by plane, people will simply assume we’re commuting.”

Diana smiled a little, her cheek pressed against the starched pleats of his shirt. “You make everything sound so simple.”

“Because it is simple. All we have to do is maintain a spirit of friendly collaboration. During the year we’re married, you’ll occasionally need me to escort you to some function or another, and I’ll arrange my schedule to be there for you. Just give me as much notice as you can.”

Diana thought that over as best she could; then she leaned her head back and studied him with a hazy smile. “No matter where it is, and even if it involves the press? I know you hate reporters, but the media is important to our business.”

Despite her unsteady condition and the bizarre offer he was coercing her into accepting, Cole noted with amused admiration that his intelligent future wife was warily trying to close up loopholes before she agreed. He nodded. “No matter where it is,” he agreed, “and I’ll expect the same from you. Fair enough?” Cole waited expectantly for her to agree.

Instead she lifted her head and peered hard at his face, obviously trying to compensate for the poor light and the dulling effect of the champagne on her senses. “Do you have any other terms?”

The last thing Cole wanted to do was get mired down in details and lose the forward momentum he’d been steadily gaining. “We can talk about all the little details tomorrow. Do we have a deal?” Again he waited for her to agree.

His future wife bit her lip, considered that for a moment, and ruefully shook her head. “I think now would be better,” she stated; then she gave him a tiny smile, as if to apologize for putting him to so much trouble. “That way, we won’t have any miscon—misunderstandings,” she amended when the right word eluded her.

Cole couldn’t suppress his admiring grin. Even when she was under extraordinary pressure, Diana Foster was neither a fool nor incautious. He was beginning to understand how she had become such a formidable force within her own industry. “All right,” he conceded, “here are the only major terms we need to agree upon: First, at the end of one year, we will obtain a quick, quiet divorce with neither of us making any sort of financial claims against the other. Agreed?”

She winced at the word “divorce,” and Cole felt a tiny pang of guilt for making her first marriage one that was a sham. On the other hand, she had as much to gain from this marriage as he did, and far less to lose. Since Texas was a community-property state, and since Cole was far wealthier than she, he had much more to lose if she tried to renege on the postnuptial agreement that would have to be drawn up immediately after their marriage.

“Agreed,” she whispered solemnly.

Cole’s voice gained force and his mind shifted to travel arrangements. “Beyond that, I’ll only ask for two other concessions. First, neither of us will ever reveal to anyone that this marriage was merely a convenient business arrangement. Second—”

“No.”

“What?” He stared at her in disbelief. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll have to tell my family. I’ll have to tell my sister. You know—Corey?” she provided helpfully, and Cole suddenly suspected that she was either far more tipsy, or far more nervous, than he’d supposed a few minutes ago.

“I know Corey,” he gravely assured her.

Behind her back, he lifted his wrist and tipped the face of his watch to the light from the doorway. It was ten minutes past eleven. The pilots of his Gulfstream jet were staying at a motel near the airport and they both carried pagers. His limousine was on twenty-four-hour call. If the wedding chapels in Lake Tahoe didn’t stay open all night, he knew they did in Las Vegas. The logistics were not a problem. Diana was.

“I’ll have to tell my whole family. And Spence, too. He’s part of the family.”

“What if I refuse to agree?”

She rolled her eyes at him in amused superiority. “We can’t very well expect them to believe we took one look at each other tonight, fell in love, and eloped, now can we?”

“They can’t prove it isn’t true. Let’s stick with that story, anyway.”

She stepped away from him and lifted her chin to its haughtiest and most obstinate angle. “I will not upset my family with a lie, and I will not knowingly make a promise I can’t keep.”

She meant every word, Cole realized. Obviously, Texas’s Businesswoman of the Year hadn’t sacrificed her scruples or her youthful idealism during her climb up the ladder of success, and his voice was gruff with pleasure and something that felt like pride. “In that case, I concede.”

“You—do?” Diana was feeling more dazed by the moment at everything he said and did. One moment, he was offering her marriage as coolly as he’d offer to hold the door open for a stranger, and the next, he was yielding a point to her with a distinct warmth in his eyes. Trying to shake off the heady effect of the alcohol and his silvery gaze, she said, “You said there were two other concessions—”

“The second concession is that you agree to accompany me to my uncle’s ranch sometime during the next week or two and spend a few days there, allaying any suspicions or fears he may have about our sudden marriage.”

“I probably have some meetings.” She frowned, a troubled goddess with the summer breeze blowing her hair and ruffling her gown. “I always have meetings. I suppose I could rearrange my schedule and either visit your uncle next week or the week after.”

“That settles it then,” Cole said briskly.

She was so nervous, her voice actually shook. “I—Shouldn’t I have terms?”

“Tell me what they are as you think of them. I’ve already promised to do everything I reasonably can to cooperate.” Convinced that the moment was now exactly right to stop talking and put the plan into action, Cole walked into the suite, phoned his pilots at their motel, and then ordered his limo to be brought to the front of the hotel. After that he dialed his secretary’s number in Dallas and gave the sleepy but stalwart woman a set of instructions that snapped her awake and made her stammer.

“Everything is arranged,” he said as he walked back out on the balcony. He lifted the bottle of

champagne out of its icy nest and refilled both glasses. “The limo is waiting downstairs, and my plane is being refueled. This definitely calls for a toast,” he added, holding a glass toward her.

Diana looked at the glass in his hand and her faltering courage collapsed. “I can’t!” she cried, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. She’d spent the time while he made phone calls trying desperately to decide whether her misgivings were based on good judgment or whether her panic was the result of the same cowardly, conservative streak within her that she hated and that frequently paralyzed her and caused her to pass up unique business opportunities.

Wordlessly, he put both glasses on the table with an ominous little clink, then took a step toward her. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t’?” he demanded.