Judith McNaught - Remember When

A fresh stream of guilty tears poured from her eyes, and Diana leaned her forehead on her knees, her shoulders shaking with shame and sorrow.

She wept until her head ached and the well of tears and regret finally ran dry; then she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. The minutes ticked past as she stared thoughtfully at the picture on the wall across the room, reevaluating the past and considering new plans for the future. She was going to hire more management personnel, delegate responsibility, and take time for herself—beginning with a long, relaxing vacation of about eight weeks. She'd go to Greece, she decided, take a luxury cruise around the islands, visit friends in Paris, explore Rome, see Egypt. She might even have a meaningless sexual fling. Maybe two. By contemporary standards, she was practically a nun. She was entitled to all of that, more than entitled. She would be careful not to violate her agreement with Cole by embarrassing him in any way.

Cole. She thought through that situation for another minute, then got off the chaise longue and resolutely went to her closet for a robe. She owed Cole the most abject, sincere apology.

With his shoulder propped against the wall and his jaw clenched, Cole listened to the heartbroken sobs coming from the next room, punishing himself with the sound of her weeping. He was a pariah, Cole thought with a blaze of self-loathing, a devil who destroyed anyone he touched. He was a Harrison; he wasn't fit to be around decent people. He'd had no right to think he could climb higher than any of the other Harrisons. He could make money, buy better clothes, clean himself up, get rid of his accent, but he couldn't get rid of the filth of Kingdom City that was stuck to his soul—it thrived in his genes.

There were any number of women he could have made his bargain with, actresses, waitresses, or one of the bored, brittle socialites who were as morally and spiritually bankrupt as he was. Diana Foster wasn't one of them; she was special. Exquisite. Alluring. Untouchable.

Irresistible...

He'd had no right to go near her last night, let alone convince her to marry him, and he'd been a filthy bastard to have sexual intercourse with her. He'd never meant for that to happen. He'd convinced himself it wouldn't happen. His convictions and self-control had lasted less than one damned day! He'd said she'd hurt his ego. He had no right to an ego where she was concerned.

He thought of her accomplishments and he was so damned proud of her it made his chest ache. He looked around at the sound of a soft knock on the door. "Cole, may I speak to you for a minute?"

He told her to come in, and she entered his room wearing a simple white silk robe with her monogram in navy blue on the pocket, a handkerchief clutched in her hand, and Cole's long-dead conscience reared up with a vengeance. Twenty-four hours ago, she walked into a hotel with the proud carriage of a queen. After one day of marriage to Cole Harrison, she looked like a woebegone waif. A year from now, if she stayed married to him, she'd probably look as bedraggled and hopeless as his mother.

"Diana—" he said, his voice carefully expressionless.

She shook her head to silence him and her hair glowed like copper in the lamplight. "Please sit down," she said shakily, walking over to a pair of overstuffed chairs angled toward each other with a reading lamp between them. "I have some things I need to tell you," she said, waiting until he'd sat down beside her.

She was going to try to call the whole deal off. "I think I already know what you want to say," he said, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees.

"First of all, I want to apologize for the childish way I've behaved about this whole thing. I've been absurdly concerned about what people will think, and I'm ashamed of that. I'm very proud of being married to you, and beginning tomorrow, no one will have reason to ever think otherwise."

Cole stared at her pale face, his dark brows drawn into a frown of utter disbelief.

She lowered her eyes to her lap and studied her folded hands; then she looked up and met his gaze directly. "Next, I want to tell you how much I regret what happened in the plane last night."

"I don't want to run the risk of looking too far afield for explanations," he said wryly, "but is it possible that last night happened because we are attracted to each other? I sure as hell wanted you. And I know you wanted me." The sudden glamour of his lazy smile was almost as effective as his admission. "In fact," he said softly, "I have it from an unimpeachable source that you used to want me, a long time ago."

She stood up slowly and so did he. "I refuse to regret or apologize for what happened last night," he said. "We wanted each other. It was as simple as that. We're about to spend a week together. We're married."

Diana felt herself falling under the spell of that rich baritone voice.

"More importantly, we like each other, and we're friends. Is there any part of that you don't agree with?"

"No," she said, searching his somber face. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that you consider having a real honeymoon with me when we're at the ranch. Don't answer me now," he said. "Think about it. Will you?"

Diana hesitated. "Yes."

"In that case," he said, pressing a brotherly kiss to her forehead, "I suggest you get out of here, before I decide to try to rush you into another major step in your life."

Cole had become accustomed to being watched by members of both sexes if they recognized him when he walked into an office building, but he had never been subjected to a frank scrutiny anything like the one he was treated to when he arrived at Foster Enterprises that morning. Within minutes, it became obvious that Diana had a much freer relationship with her staff than he had with his own, and it was also apparent that she was far better liked by the people who worked for her than was usual. Particularly in his case.

Cole was used to being treated with awe, with fear, and even with veiled hostility, but he was always treated with respect, and he was never, ever treated with relaxed cordiality, let alone impertinence. Diana introduced him to everyone in all the departments, where Cole was subjected to everything from stern admonitions to take care of Diana to smiling remarks about the difference in their height ensuring that he would be head of the family to flagrant comments about his physical attributes. At first he was astonished, and then he found it amusing. A perky twenty-year-old in the layout department complimented his tie, and a wheelchair-bound artist asked him how long he had to work out each day to stay in such great shape. When they left the sales department, another woman made a remark about his build that made him glance at Diana in disbelief.

"What did she just say?" he demanded in a whisper.

Diana kept her laughing face lowered. "She said you have 'great buns.' "

"That's what I thought she said." After a moment he glanced at her. "The woman in the last department—the one with the ink on her hands—liked my tie. Thank you for loaning it to me."

That morning he'd realized the only tie he'd brought along as a spare had a black background, not dark blue, as he'd thought. Diana solved the problem by going into her bedroom and emerging with a tie box. "I loved this when I saw it," she explained, "so I bought it for—someone."

Cole assumed from her pause that she'd bought it for Penworth, and even though it was a little brighter than the conservative ones he normally wore, he was glad to have it.

"It isn't a loan, it's a gift," Diana said simply. "And it wasn't for Dan. When I see things I like, I buy them to have on hand."

The press conference was scheduled to take place in Diana's large office, where thirty reporters and photographers had already crowded. Outside the door, Diana stopped and turned, straightening the knot in his tie in an ordinary wifely gesture that seemed so much more intimate under their unusual circumstances. "Perfect," she announced.