Amanda Stevens - The Edge of Eternity

Elizabeth’s frown deepened. “For how long?”

“A couple of weeks. A month at the most. It’s not much to ask, is it?”

“No, I suppose not.” Although now that the decision was made, Elizabeth just wanted it over and done with. “Will you be staying here until then?”

He shrugged again. “My moving out would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” He smiled over the flickering candles, but there was no humor in his dark eyes. “The investor I’m most concerned about is a man named Boyd Carter. He was one of the major backers in the Fernhaven project and he’ll be at the retreat next weekend, along with some of the potential investors.”

“The preopening celebration, you mean. I saw the invitation earlier,” Elizabeth said.

“One came here?” He seemed surprised by that. “I received one at the office, too. I suspect you and Frankie will be getting one at the shop. At any rate, if I can get a few moments alone with Carter, I think I can allay his concerns. Once he’s sold on the deal, the others will fall in line. If everything goes the way I expect it to, you can file for divorce as soon as we get back.”

She stared at him for a moment. “When we get back?”

“I’m hoping that you’ll go with me. Carter is big on family. If we’re seen together—”

“Wait a minute,” Elizabeth said in dismay. “You want me to convince him that we have a happy marriage just so you can work a deal with him? That’s ridiculous. And dishonest.”

“I’m not asking you to lie,” Paul said coolly. “And, yes, it is ridiculous that in this day and age my personal life should come under scrutiny before a relic like Carter will do business with me. But that’s just the way it is.” His gaze met hers. “All I’m asking is for you to spend the weekend at Fernhaven with me. You don’t have to put on an act. Just be yourself. Do you think you could do that much for me?”

“I don’t—”

She’d been about to refuse. Going away for a weekend together was no way to start a separation. But before she could get the words out, the balcony door flew open, startling them both as the draft blew out the candles.

Elizabeth gave a tiny surprised cry, but Paul merely flipped on a light and went over to investigate the door.

“The latch is sticking,” he muttered as he closed the door. “I’ll need to get someone here to fix it before we leave.” He tried the door a few more times, then glanced up. “What do you say, Elizabeth? Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “We have a deal.”

But that wasn’t what she’d meant to say at all.

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