Kathie DeNosky - His Marriage Pact

She’d realized very quickly he hadn’t been poking fun. “That’s too bad since it would make the whole failure to consummate much easier, which appears to be our only option. Get married, no whoopee.”

He looked like he’d just bitten into a dill pickle. “You expect me to go without sex for a year?”

Paris thought that would be the greatest challenge of all, and a possible reason for him to rescind the offer. “Cowboy up, cowboy. You can handle it if you want to keep the ranch. Which leads me to another question.”

“Shoot.”

“Does maintaining control of this place mean so much to you that you would enter into a fake marriage that requires celibacy for a year?”

“I don’t like the celibacy clause one damn bit, but I can only promise I’ll try. And it would have to be a real marriage in order to meet the will’s requirements.”

She saw a possible alternative. “Who would know if we only pretended we married?”

“Fort will make a point to check it out.”

The decision would be so much easier for Paris if that weren’t the case. “You’re obviously a rich guy, Dallas. I imagine you could buy a ranch just like this one anywhere in the world. Maybe even a bigger and better ranch. Then you wouldn’t have to resort to this ruse.”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” he said. “To risk sounding like Jenny, the D Bar C is equivalent to losing the plantation that’s been in the family for generations.”

“Wouldn’t it still be in the family if Fort takes over? Have you even bothered to work out some agreement that wouldn’t force you to go to such extremes?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Fort doesn’t talk to anyone but Worth. He’d have the power to do anything he pleases, including selling it off piece by piece. I wouldn’t put it past him to do that just for spite. He hates anything associated with the Calloways, including me. Especially me.”

A family feud of grand proportions. “Because I grew up traveling the world, I’ve never experienced having a real home place. But I do understand why it would be difficult to give up a legacy.”

“And even harder to give up the memories.”

“Of your dad?”

“Of my mother. I have very few as it is.”

That revelation yanked hard on her heartstrings. At times her own mother could drive her insane with her penchant for being overprotective, yet Paris couldn’t imagine not having her mom in her life. “How old were you when she passed?”

“Not quite five years old, but I still recall the little things. If I’m forced to leave here, I’m afraid the memories might fade completely.”

Hearing the pain in his voice almost pushed Paris over the marriage edge. But she couldn’t let emotions rule common sense. She’d done that too often as it was. “You’ve given me a lot to consider,” she said as she handed him the laptop.

“Then you’re not completely ruling it out?”

“No, but I have to think about it long and hard. And you’d have to promise we’d find some way to go the annulment route.”

“Believe me, my lawyer will find a loophole if that’s how we want to end the marriage. And I’d be willing to put all the terms in writing if that would make you feel better.”

She’d feel better if she had more time to weigh the verdict. “When do you want my answer?”

“I’m flying to Houston on Friday and I thought we could just do it there. It’ll be easier to blend in at that courthouse rather than do it around here. Word travels fast in small towns.”

“I don’t know if I can make such a serious decision that soon.”

“That’s all the time I have since my birthday’s Saturday,” he said as he pushed off the desk. “When it comes right down to it, it makes sense to get it done the day before.”

If only she could be so sure. “I’m going to go home and think it over,” she told him as she stood. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made up my mind.”

After leaving him behind in the barn, Paris managed to return to Dallas’s house, gather her things and sneak out without being detected. She drove the ninety miles home in a haze, ticking off a mental list of pros and cons. She entered her barren apartment and thought about how she’d hoped to settle in a loft downtown, with a view of the River Walk. Yet her budget had only allowed her to rent a one-bedroom in a cookie-cutter complex outside the magic of the city.

Her life had turned into an absolute mess, devoid of security and absent of even a shred of a sincere social life. She had a closet full of expensive shoes and nowhere to wear them, a large stack of unpaid bills, including one that if ignored could take away her freedom, and a solid sense of defeat. But she still had an option—accept Dallas’s proposal. What was the worst that could happen? Paris could think of one thing—she might lose her heart to a man who didn’t return the sentiment. Again.

Not this time. Not if she approached the proposal as strictly business. She married for love the first time, why not marry for financial gain the second? A lot of people did it. Unfortunately she’d never imagined herself fitting into that mercenary mold. But she’d never dreamed she would be caught in this dire position.

Damn her bad luck. Damn Peter Smith for his criminal acts and betrayal and leaving her to take the fall. Damn Dallas Calloway for putting her on the verge of accepting his offer.

Knowing she needed advice had her reaching for the cell phone, although she would have to be very, very careful.

On that thought, Paris dropped down onto the sofa and pounded out her parents’ number. After two rings, “Reynolds residence” filtered through the line in Sheila’s usual sing-song voice.

“Hey, Mom. It’s Paris.”

“Well I’ll be, it’s the prodigal daughter checking in and it’s not even a holiday.”

Her mom did have a tendency to make her kids feel guilty at times. “I know, Mother. It’s been a while since I called, but I’ve been rather busy.”

“Do you have a job?”

That depended on whether she took a husband. “Actually, I have a good prospect.” Now for adding that other little tidbit of information. “I also have a new man in my life.”

“Oh, Paris, are you sure that’s a good idea? The ink has barely dried on your divorce decree.”

“It’s been twenty-two months, Mom.” And four days.

“Oh. Time does fly, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. Anyway, I think you and Dad would like him.”

“Does he have a job?”

“Yes, he does. He’s a rancher. An honest to goodness cowboy.”

“Interesting. Does he have a nice butt?”

Heavens, leave it to her matriarch to bring that up. “What difference does it make?”

“Believe me, it does. I married your father for his butt and we’re approaching forty years of marital bliss.”

Definitely too much information. “Yes, he has a nice butt and a nice house and a lucrative ranching operation. Are you happy now?”

“I’m happy if you’re happy, dear.”

Now for the moment of truth. A prelude to what possibly could be in the offing. “Good, because the M word has been mentioned.”

“Meatloaf? Manners? Mistake?”

“Very funny, Mom. Marriage.”

“Darn, I’d hoped that wasn’t it.”

“Nothing is set in stone yet, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided if it does happen.”

“I certainly hope we get to meet this one before you take that step.”

Not likely that would occur in two days. “I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity in the near future.”

“Paris, if this man treats you well, then you’ll have our blessing. Just make certain this time you’re doing the right thing.”