A Proper Wife
“It wouldn’t. But it would define its terms so there’d be no surprises. All the arrangements of your settlement would be spelled out—”
“Are we back to that? I told you—”
“—and the transfer of the deed of Gordon’s house to Bettina—”
“Dammit,” Devon said, jumping to her feet, “you’ve missed the point. I am not—”
“And we will both agree,” Ryan said calmly, “that we will review our situation at the end of a six-month trial period.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I would never...” Devon’s eyebrows lifted. “What do you mean, a six-month trial period?”
“I mean just that,” he answered. “Six months from Friday, my bank will automatically transfer the monetary settlement we agree upon into your private account. And then we’ll sit down and decide if there’s any reason to sign on for another half year.”
“You mean, if James is still...if he’s still...”
“Alive,” Ryan said bluntly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
“Surely, he wouldn’t agree...”
“He doesn’t have to. I want him to be happy, Devon, but there’s no way I’m going to lock myself into a nightmare for the rest of my life.” He smiled tightly. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think you’re as crazy as your grandfather! First you make it sound as if there’s some gilt-edged morality in keeping an impossible promise to him. Then you turn around and come up with a way to turn the promise into a farce.”
“It’s a perfectly logical escape clause.” Ryan’s lips twitched in a cool smile. “What’s the matter, baby? Did you really think I’d let this go on forever?”
“Only fools believe in forever, Ryan. And whatever you think I am, I promise you, I am not a fool.”
“No. No, I don’t think you are. Which is why I’m so certain you’ll see the benefits to our marriage. Everybody comes out a winner. Bettina gets her house, James gets what he wants, and neither you nor I have to feel that we’re signing our lives away.”
Devon looked down at the legal pad again. What he’d outlined was all so reasonable—assuming you could agree in the first place that it was reasonable for two people who despised each other to marry at all.
Not that what he’d described would actually be a marriage. It would be a contract. A... a leasing arrangement, subject to renewal after six months.
She cleared her throat. “There’s nothing in this about—about sex,” she said.
His expression didn’t change. “No. There isn’t.”
Why did it suddenly seem too difficult to draw breath?
“Well, there should be. I mean, if I were to agree—if you and I went through with this...”
“The deed to the house, the trust fund, the final monetary settlement I’ll make on you... all of that can be written into a contract.” Lazy laughter suddenly glinted in Ryan’s eyes. “But I’ll be damned if I can think of a way to define the terms of a man and woman’s sexual relationship in a legal document.”
“You mean, their lack of a sexual relationship,” Devon said, forcing her gaze not to waver from his. “I wouldn’t sleep with you, Ryan. You’d have to understand that.”
An insolent smile curled across his mouth. “Wouldn’t you?”
He moved toward her with the grace of a jungle cat. Devon felt her blood drumming in her veins. But you never ran from a predatory beast; you stood your ground and faced it, no matter what it took in courage.
She waited until he was a breath away before tilting her head up and meeting his smile with her own.
“Poor Ryan,” she said softly. “Is that what this is all about? Do you need Grandpa to get you a bed playmate?” Her smile vanished. “Because if it is, you’re out of luck. I’d sooner sleep with a snake.”
She thought, at first, he was going to strike her. She could see the sharp, swift blaze of anger that turned his eyes a green so dark it was almost black. Then, at what seemed the last instant, a muscle in his jaw twitched. A smile worked its way across his lips again; he reached out and ran the tip of one finger over her slightly parted lips.
“If it makes you feel safer to think that, then go right on fooling yourself.”
“Don’t do that,” she said sharply, twisting away from the tormenting stroke of his finger.