Married One Night

Balling her hand into a fist, she pounded on the door, then hugged her arms around herself, huddling as close to the door as she could to keep from getting whipped to death by wind and sideways rain.

It took several moments, but she heard the small sound of several locks clicking before the door opened and dim light silhouetted the small, redheaded woman who peered out at her in disbelief. “Liv? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Olivia said. “Let me in, will you?”

“Jesus,” Adrian said as she stepped back and let Olivia stride into her tidy, shabby-chic living room. She took a moment to lock all the doors again and then turned to frown at her impromptu guest. “Why the hell are you pounding on my door at midnight? Is something wrong at the tavern? Is water getting into the shops?”

Olivia waved off the suggestion impatiently. “Never mind that. Remember when we were in Vegas?”

Adrian rolled her eyes and groaned, crossed to the sofa and had a seat. “Are you kidding? I’m still trying to live it down.”

Olivia not only remained standing, she chose to pace from one wall to the other, gesturing in jerky, sweeping motions as she spoke. “Do you happen to remember the hot blond British guy who I spent the night with?”

“Yeah, we talked about him on the flight back,” Adrian reminded her, placid in the face of Olivia’s franticness. “You two met at the club. You danced. We all drank and you two wandered off for a night well spent from what you told us.”

“It was more than that,” Olivia said. She stopped in the middle of the room and spread her arms. “We’re married.”

Adrian raised her brows. “Married. As in...”

“As in white gown, black tie, bouquets and corsages.”

“Boutonnieres,” Adrian, the florist, corrected her.

“Whatever,” Olivia said, waving that off, too. “Only it wasn’t any of that. No, for me it was a red clubbing dress. My groom might have been wearing a black tie. Though I’m not quite sure because I was one shot of Cuervo shy of drooling on Elvis’s gold lamé cape. And for all I know you and Roxie, who served as witnesses, by the way, carried shiny silk flowers.”

Adrian winced. Whether it was from the image of shiny, silk bridesmaids bouquets or from being told she’d served as a witness, Olivia couldn’t be sure. “Wow. That’s...something.”

“And get this,” Olivia said, lifting a finger. “My hot British stranger of a husband is here, in Fairhope.”

Adrian shook her head slightly as if dazed. “Wait. Now you’ve got to be jerking me around.”

“Nope. He popped by the tavern this evening and is at this very moment checking in to one of Briar’s suites at the inn. When she called just a few minutes ago, she said, ‘Um, Liv? Do you know there’s an Englishman here renting a room who says he’s your husband?’ He’s telling people, Adrian.”

“Get out of town.”

“And as if that weren’t enough...” Olivia laughed a sour laugh “...he wants to stay married.”

Adrian frowned. She raised her hands to stop the fast flow of shocking information. “Okay. Now you’ve lost me.”

“That’s what he said,” Olivia informed her, pacing once again. “He says he wants to give it a go. He wants to see if what he felt that one night in Vegas is enough to sustain a bond everlasting. I didn’t know whether to pat his head and coo over his eight-year-old-worthy idea of married life or call up the deputy and have him hauled out of the bar for lunacy.”

“Huh.” Adrian fought a smile. “Interesting.”

“So...” Olivia stopped pacing to face Adrian, and lifted her shoulders helplessly. “What do I do?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Do you see anybody else here?”

“No, but if we don’t keep our voices down, there might be.”

Olivia glanced toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms where Adrian’s seven-year-old son, Kyle, was down for the night. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“I don’t know, Liv,” Adrian said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve never been in this situation. Or anything quite like it.”

“I don’t know too many people who have.”

“You’ve got that right.” Adrian sighed, dropping her hands into her lap. “How long does he plan on sticking around?”

“Three weeks.”

“Does he strike you as...all there?” Adrian pointed to her head.

Olivia nodded slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes. Despite the frightening optimism and the fact that he braved tropical storm conditions to tell me all this, he seems pretty lucid.”

“What’s your impression of him?”

“He’s...” Olivia stopped, thinking of the man who’d sat across the table from her tonight. She lowered into a cozy armchair. “He’s...sexy.”

Adrian nodded approvingly. “Uh-huh. Go on.”

“He’s intellectual, but in a sexy way. Very Tom Hiddleston. Proper and upper-crust but not at all haughty. He’s accessible, down-to-earth and so damned charming he can make your toes tingle just by smiling at you....”

“I’m intrigued, and also slightly confused.” Adrian licked her lips. “What you’re saying is...this Tom Hiddleston-esque, sexy, intelligent man-hunk walks into the tavern and has decided to stay next door for three weeks so that he can, basically, try and woo you into staying married to him. Correct?”

Olivia nodded, thinking it through carefully. “In a nutshell. Yes.”

“And you, Olivia Lewis, who has no problem letting men woo her is freaking out because...”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “He and I are married.”

Adrian shrugged. “In my experience, marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But, hey, some people like it. Look at Briar and Cole. Look at your parents.”

Olivia made a thoughtful noise as she gnawed on her thumbnail. Her parents’ partnership, which had spanned three decades and the hell-raising teenage version of herself, was a lot to live up to. From an early age she’d known that it was the ultimate ideal—the kind of love she’d once ridiculously envisioned for herself.

As a young adult, however, she’d learned the hard way that that kind of love and bond didn’t come easily. Nor did it happen for everyone. And she was sure it never would for her. “So you’re saying...” Olivia took a deep, steadying breath “...I should just let it ride?”

Adrian lifted her shoulders. “Why not? He’ll definitely be gone by the end of the three weeks?”

“He says so. And he said he’d file for separation himself, take care of the legal fees, everything—as long as I give him these three weeks.”

Tired, Adrian gave Olivia a telling look. “Then what’s the harm?”

Olivia narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Usually, I can count on you for cynicism. What the hell?”

Adrian lifted a shoulder. “It’s midnight. I’ve been up since 5:00 a.m. Penny and I threw together over a hundred arrangements at the shop today. My bed’s calling me. That’s all. Talk to me tomorrow after coffee if you want practical advice.”

Olivia sighed. “Right.” She rose. “Sorry to barge in so late.”

Adrian stood. “For curiosity’s sake, what’s the name of this British man-hunk who intends to sweep you off your feet?”

“No sweeping,” Olivia said pointedly. “There will be no sweeping. And his name is Gerald Leighton, for what it’s worth.”

Adrian blinked in surprise. “Gerald Leighton? The writer, Gerald Leighton?”

“That’s his name,” Olivia said. “I don’t know what he does for a living. I don’t know anything about him.”

“Hang on.” Adrian disappeared into the hall where she kept books on built-in shelves. She strolled back in with a dog-eared paperback, turned it over and opened the back cover for Olivia to see the black-and-white picture on the inside. “Is this him?”

Olivia gawped at Gerald’s face for what had to be the third time that night. “Oh, my God. What’s he doing there?”

“Liv.” Adrian closed the book, firming her lips together as her eyes lit up and she clutched the worn paperback to her chest. “Your husband is Gerald Leighton.”

“So?”

“Gerald Leighton,” Adrian said again, a bit louder this time. “The fantasy writer. He’s an international bestseller. He’s won all kinds of awards in the genre, not to mention for writing in general. He writes the Rex Flynn series.”

“Who?”

“Rex Flynn.” Adrian made an impatient noise. “Come on, don’t you read?”

“Not really,” Olivia admitted. “Just the occasional romance novel, heavy on the smut. Short ones—I don’t have time for anything else.”

Adrian raked a hand through the red cap of her hair. “Oy. Okay, Rex Flynn is this amazing hero who has this weird but really awesome time-traveling ability that just gets him into trouble at first but eventually becomes useful for rescuing people, spying and, of course, saving the world. But the best part about it is the love story. In book one, Rex accidentally travels to the fifteenth-century Highlands where he meets the love of his life, Janet MacMillian, and so starts this epic love story that continues throughout the rest of the series.”

“You read love stories?” Olivia asked doubtfully. “Since when?”

“I started out reading the series because Dad suggested it for the history and time-travel elements. But it’s more than all that. There’s intrigue and action and magic and ancient history and love and even a little bit of smut.... Oh, it’s just perfection! He is the best writer. And he’s, like, a multimillionaire.”

“No, he’s not,” Olivia said automatically.

“No, really. He’s an actual multimillionaire. He gets seven-figure advances and he does these book signings where people line up for city blocks just to meet him. They’re talking even about doing a Rex Flynn movie. Liv, this is a big deal. He, Gerald Leighton, is a big deal.”

“Calm down,” Olivia ordered. She put her hands on her head and shook it in denial. “I can’t process this right now. I just can’t. You’re right. We’ll talk more in the morning. Postcoffee.”

“Liv,” Adrian said, snagging Olivia’s arm as she opened the front door. “Can I meet him? Do you think it would be okay if I met him. I mean, meet him again...when I’m not drunk? Maybe he could sign a couple of my hardbacks or something?”

Olivia took one good look at Adrian’s animated expression and shook her head. “For Christ’s sake, Adrian. Get a hold of yourself.” She walked out of the cottage, back into the rain.

If the man had Adrian Carlton of all people beaming sunshine and rainbows, Gerald Leighton was going to be far more trouble than Olivia had initially thought.

* * *

THE BREAKFAST OLIVIA’S cousin, Briar Browning Savitt, served for guests and family at Hanna’s Inn was not to be missed.

Olivia walked around the tavern and the adjourning shops facing South Mobile Street. She crossed the gravel parking lot to the proud white three-story bed-and-breakfast that had been owned by the Brownings for decades. She saw her cousin’s small sedan, the four-by-four owned by Briar’s husband, Cole, who used the brawny vehicle to haul landscaping materials and such, Adrian’s ten-year-old SUV and what looked to be a luxury sportster Olivia could only guess was Gerald Leighton’s rental car.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had shown up for Briar’s cinnamon rolls. Frowning at the blue skies scant on clouds today, Olivia mused that if not for the wet and battered leaves littering the ground and the tangled state of her cousin’s climbing roses and jasmine bushes, one might never have known that the coast had had a very near miss with a Category 3 hurricane. And despite the fact that it was late October, the brush with El Niño had left the Eastern Shore warm enough for it to be mid-May.

Nobody could ever be prepared for Gulf Coast weather. It changed on a dime, rain or shine. In summer, residents suffered through weeks of dry, dusty drought followed by a month-and-a-half straight of coastal flooding. Halloween was on the horizon and Olivia was wearing flip-flops.

She smiled. The unpredictability of the weather was one thing most people around these parts tolerated. Olivia, a creature of unpredictability herself, thrived in it.

She bounded up the steps to the inn’s glass-front entry doors. The bells jangled as she opened them and the smell of cinnamon and home struck her.

Olivia followed the voices coming from the back of the house. She made her way down the hall, past the fancy dining room full of antiques and the living room with its plush, half-moon sofa and flat-screen television. Here brilliant streams of sunlight beamed unfiltered from the connected sunroom, which overlooked Briar’s gardens. Cole’s trim, green yard tumbled down to the rocky, sandy shore and the small dock with its Adirondack chairs and chaise longues.

The bay was still choppy but had settled back for the most part. The storm had stirred it into a murky brown. Light beamed off the surface of the crests, however, and it wasn’t hard to see the gleaming spires and bottlenecked cranes of the city of Mobile beyond it.

Olivia peered through the swinging door into Briar’s kitchen. Standing at the counter, a steaming mug of coffee clenched in one hand and an infant tucked against his opposing shoulder, Cole Savitt was the first to catch her eye. He grinned a lazy morning grin and tipped his mug toward her in greeting.

She pressed a finger to her lips, slipping quietly into the room. Adrian and Kyle sat at the round nook table and Olivia could hear Briar’s voice floating from the open pantry doors. She walked to Cole and placed her hand gently on the baby’s back. “How’s our Harmony this morning?”

“I think she’s out,” the man said, dipping his head close to his daughter’s. “She kept us awake most of the night.”

Olivia got on her tiptoes to get a better view of Harmony’s face. Her eyes were closed and her cheek was adorably mushed against the broad shoulder of Cole’s black T-shirt. Olivia grazed her fingertip over the bridge of the two-month-old’s button nose and sighed. “I was hoping for a smile this morning.” Lowering herself back to the heels of her feet, Olivia asked, “Colicky again?”

“Yep,” Cole said, carefully readjusting the weight of the baby so that she settled against his chest and not his arm. “It’s winding down, though. She hasn’t had a rough night like this in a couple weeks.” His smile turned sly as his dark eyes settled on Olivia’s face again. “I just hope she didn’t disturb our latest guest.”

Olivia groaned. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Oh, come on, Liv,” Cole said, setting his coffee down so he could run a tan, calloused hand over Harmony’s back. “I recall a time, about a year and a half ago now, when you teased Briar and me mercilessly just for glancing at each other at the breakfast table. Now you’ve gone and found yourself not just a boyfriend but a bona fide bridegroom and I can’t make a comment?” He smirked and shook his head. “I don’t think so, cuz.”

She had a hard time holding the frown on her lips when he looked so mischievous. Olivia had been raised with Briar. They were more sisters than cousins, which made Cole the closest thing to a brother Olivia would ever have. It did her well to see light and laughter in his eyes now, when a year and a half ago there had been none of that. “Just do me a favor and tell me where I can find the man of the hour?”

Cole nodded toward the pantry. “Bartering a couple of jars of Briar’s homemade jam off her. She’s practically fawning over him.” He grabbed his coffee again, raised it to his lips with lowered brows. “If I weren’t so secure in our relationship, I might feel more than a small stab of jealousy.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” she pointed out. “Me, on the other hand? That’s a whole different ball game. I’m gonna try to rope him out of here.”

“Good luck with that,” Cole muttered into his coffee.

Olivia mussed a hand over Kyle’s rusty brown crop of hair, leaning down to press a loud kiss to the boy’s freckled cheek. “How are ya, slugger?”

Kyle beamed up at her, displaying a new gap between his teeth. “Great. Gerald gave me a euro.” He raised the small European coin from the table. “Look, Liv! Isn’t it neat?”

“Yeah, how ’bout that?” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes on Adrian across the table.

Adrian shrugged, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “You were right. He is a charmer.”

“Oh, you, too, huh?” Olivia muttered through gritted teeth as she eyed the hardback book next to Adrian’s plate.

Her friend lifted her shoulders again and lowered telling eyes to the coffee in her hands. “Yeah. You’re on your own.”

“Brutus.” Olivia sneered. Cursing, she stalked to the pantry. It was small, but the floor-to-ceiling shelves were all stocked neat as a pin with every label facing outward. The man in question was reaching up to grab a jar of rhubarb jam off the top shelf for Briar, who beamed wide at him as he handed it to her. “Aren’t you sweet?” Briar asked, a pink flush staining her cheeks. “Thank you, Gerald.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Savitt,” he said. “Your husband’s a lucky man. He has a pretty wife and envious access to all your jams, jellies and homemade treats.”

Briar tittered over him. Actually tittered. Olivia scowled. That was the last straw. “Gerald,” she barked.

Briar jumped, startled at the intrusion. Gerald steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as he turned to Olivia with a beaming smile, one arm laden with mason jars full of jam. “Well, if it isn’t my gorgeous wife.” His eyes dipped over her from head to toe. “You’re looking fine today, Mrs. Leighton.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes on him in a blistering stare. “We need to talk.”

He looked from her furious, gleaming eyes to Briar’s flushed face. “Your cousin’s just been telling me how you used to steal jam from her mother’s cupboard, which is why it’s still kept on the top shelf to this day. She also says you used to steal liquor from your parents’ bar. That’s why they put a lock on the storeroom door.”

Olivia’s frown deepened as she looked at Briar. Her cousin had the gall to look innocent. “I’ll be talking to you later,” Olivia warned Briar. “You, on the other hand...” She grabbed Gerald’s hand and tugged on it hard to get his feet moving. “Outside. Now.”

“Thank you, Briar,” he managed to say as Olivia hauled him away. “I’m looking forward to sampling each of these. Perhaps you’ll make me some more of those delicious scones to go with them?”

“Of course, Gerald,” Briar answered. “Whatever you like.”

Muttering, Olivia got behind Gerald and pushed him out the screen door before he could respond to her cousin. Grabbing the sleeve of his oxford shirt, she pulled him in the direction of the jasmine arbor where the garden surrounded them, blocking the view from the inn’s many windows. Rounding on him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing?” she asked, indignant.

Gerald blinked and lifted a mason jar for her inspection. “Just talking jams. Your cousin’s a gem. The way she talks about you...it’s more like a mother. It’s illuminating.” His grin turned wry. “Do you need a mummy, Olivia?”

Olivia groaned. “I’m not talking about...that. This whole marriage business was to stay between us.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I thought they were your family.”

“They are my family—”

“And as your family, who loves you dearly, they’d have a right to know who I am and why I’m staying here. That is, unless you weren’t planning on being honest with them? It was my impression that your relationship with them means a great deal more to you than that.”

Olivia’s mouth fumbled. She raked her hands through her hair in frustration. “You’re just trying to figure me out—get inside my head.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Stop it!”

Gerald chuckled. The laughter settled into a warm smile as he turned and set the jars in a neat row on the arbor bench. “You’ve a lovely family.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and sighed. “Yes. I know.”

“I’ve gathered the Savitts have had a spot of trouble with the inn over the past couple of years.”

“Yes.” She waved that off. “Well, the trouble started before they were together, when my aunt died several years back. Briar almost lost the business, but thankfully some investors swooped in and saved it from going under, just around the time she and Cole met. It doesn’t feel right, though, not completely. Briar’s still innkeeper and the inn is doing well again, but the family name isn’t on the books anymore. It’s a weight on them both.”

“And you,” Gerald surmised, wise eyes combing her face.

Olivia nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is.... Wait, why are we talking about this?”

His eyes dropped to her waist and he took a step closer to her, closing the space between them. “I realize I’ve disrupted your life without any warning. So, I have a proposition to make it up to you when all of this is settled.”

She tried to step back to keep from getting lost in that teasing aftershave of his. Her back came up against the side of the arbor and the jasmine still blooming around it. “What?”

The light dappled onto his face as a smile warmed it. “If this doesn’t end the way I want it to between you and me, I’ll pay what Briar and Cole owe to their investors and restore the inn in their name.”

“You’ll...what?”

“Perhaps it will make up for my intrusion into your lives,” he told her. “You’re good people. Your cousins certainly don’t deserve to have anyone mucking about their lives. It’s the least I can do.”

“No,” Olivia argued. “It’s too much.” When he opened his mouth to insist, she stopped him. “Look, I know who you are. I know you have more money than God. But buying things isn’t the way to woo me.”

Gerald raised his brows. “Duly noted, Mrs. Leighton. But this has nothing to do with wooing you. This is me doing what I view is the right thing, for your family, since you are all welcoming me into your lives—even if only for a short while.”

Olivia scanned his face carefully, looking for flaws. There had to be a catch. Some angle he was trying to play to win his bet against her.

He pursed his lips. “You would deny your cousins peace of mind, after all they’ve been through?”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No matter what I say, you’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

Grinning, he lifted his hands to her face. He cupped one hand over her cheek and brushed her hair back from the other. “Look there. We’re beginning to understand one another already. You know not much will stop me from getting what I want—you. And I know you would do anything for your family. Even if it means putting up with a gentleman like me.”

Her brows came down over her eyes. “Who said you were a gentleman?”

“Do you not like gentlemen, love?”

Despite the fact that she had more than a few notches on her bedpost, Olivia didn’t have much experience with so-called gentlemen. This was all new, rocky terrain. And she was very much afraid that this gentleman might make all the men she’d slept with before him dim in comparison.

She glanced back to the inn. “Do whatever you want. Just... I don’t want them getting attached to you. I don’t want them buying into this...” She gestured between them. “Whatever this is you’re trying to make happen between us.”

His eyes dimmed. “Have you so little faith in men?” Both his hands gripped her face now. “I won’t hurt them. And I won’t hurt you, Liv. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She thought of her lack of faith more as keeping the status quo of low expectations. Raising them only meant being disappointed. She wanted to believe Gerald when he said he wouldn’t hurt her—and that right there was trouble. Stick to the status quo, she told herself firmly. Or you will most certainly get hurt...whether he intends to hurt you or not.

Grabbing his wrists, she lowered them from her face and released them. “This isn’t going to work, you know. I hope you’re still prepared for that.”

“I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to change your mind,” he told her.

“Why?” she demanded. “Marriages based on one night of passion have terrible track records.” “Trust me, I know,” she almost added then closed her mouth quickly.