Amber Leigh Williams - Married One Night

“You want revenge,” Olivia told him. “It’s enough having to deal with Cupid,” she added, nodding toward Roxie. “I don’t need Machiavelli working against me, too.”

“Machiavelli is no stranger to your matchmaking ways,” Adrian informed her.

“Whose side are you on?” Olivia demanded.

“Hey, I’m Switzerland,” Adrian said, raising her hands. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun watching you deal with Gerald and the rest of them.” She swept her arm out to encompass both Cole and Roxie, who already had their heads together.

Olivia gave up trying to reason with any of them. “I’m gonna get out of here before Pinky and the Brain get too far into their plotting. I have a tavern to clean.”

Before Olivia escaped through the swinging door, Briar swung it open first from the other side. “Not so fast,” Briar said. “I think I’ll have a word with you now.”

“I’d love to stay and chat,” Olivia lied, pivoting toward the screen door, “but the bar opens early on Fridays, remember, and, frankly, I don’t need a lecture.”

“That’s too bad.” Unfazed, Briar gripped Olivia’s wrist and pulled her into the privacy of the sunroom. “If it were up to you, we’d never find the time and place for me to lecture you.”

Olivia held up her hands in defense as Briar whirled on her, stemming the torrent of words that her cousin had no doubt been waiting all morning to say. “Wait. Before we do this, let me ask you something. Why aren’t you sexing Cole up?”

Briar balked, went pale. “What?”

“We just talked to him,” Olivia said, lowering her voice to a discreet level. “He said you’re not putting out.”

“He said that?” Briar asked, horrified.

“Not those exact words, but that’s the gist of it, isn’t it?”

Briar flustered for a moment, then scrubbed nervous hands over her thighs, looking anywhere other than at Olivia as her face reddened. “There hasn’t been time—”

“Yeah, he tried to give us that line of bull, too. What’s going on, Briar? Really?”

She threw her hands up. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on, Liv. It’s just... I was hoping that maybe he’d say something...or do something.”

“Like what exactly?”

“Like...say that he wants me,” Briar said with a consternated expression. “I know it sounds silly, but—”

“It’s not silly,” Olivia muttered. “Unless you consider the fact that he’s also been waiting for you to say or do something, too.” At Briar’s helpless look, Olivia sighed. “Look, I’m begging you to put an end to it. Don’t even talk about it. Just do it . Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Briar said, breathing out and looking dazed.

“That’s all I have to say,” Olivia said quickly.

“Wait a minute!” Briar recovered, gripping Olivia’s elbow to stop her from retreating. “We need to talk about Gerald.”

“I’m talked out as far as he’s concerned,” Olivia informed her.

“He’s a nice guy,” Briar said, managing a stern brow for Olivia and a small smile for Gerald all at once. “In fact...” Her eyes softened and went dreamy. “Liv, he’s a wonderful man.”

“Cole’s right. Maybe he should be jealous.”

“No, he shouldn’t,” Briar said firmly. “Listen, I know better than anyone that you like having your own space and your own set of rules when it comes to men. But...Gerald’s different. You know that, right?”

“I know that for all his charm, brains and good looks, he needs his head examined for thinking even for a second that this has the tiniest chance of working out,” Olivia said.

“I’m not worried about what he’s thinking,” Briar explained. “What I’m trying to figure out is why my cousin, who’s never had a problem flirting with a man, can’t even entertain the idea of this one sticking around for three weeks for what seems like a perfectly harmless wager.”

Olivia pursed her lips but said nothing, just kept her arms locked tight over her chest. When a shape passed the glass windows on her right, her gaze snagged on it and her heart rapped when she saw it was Gerald, talking on the phone and laughing as he paced absently across the inn’s lawn.

She didn’t owe Briar an explanation. Neither was she going to change her views on marriage and commitment. She’d made her mind up long ago on both. Or it’d been made up for her when the last man who had proposed marriage to her left her with nothing but broken dreams and an even more broken heart.

Yes, Gerald was a perfectly good man. He might be the perfect man. But that didn’t change the fact that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him in. Even if it was just for fun.

Briar patted her arm, drawing Olivia’s gaze away from the man walking around outside and back to the sunroom and their conversation. “Just promise me you won’t do anything drastic to chase him away. Give him the three weeks, even if you think he can’t change the outcome.”

“He can’t,” Olivia said firmly. “But a bet’s a bet and I plan on keeping my word and letting him stay here.”

“Good,” Briar said, relief shining into her honey-brown eyes. “I’ve got to go clean up the kitchen and nurse Harmony before today’s guests arrive.”

“Let Cole do the cleaning,” Olivia told her. “He’ll make it shine just as much as you would. And then the both of you should try to get some rest and take some time for yourselves. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need a babysitter.”

“Thanks for that,” Briar said with a smile. Her eyes widened. “Wow. If you’d have told me we’d be trading marital advice a few weeks ago, I would’ve pulled a Rochester and locked you in the attic.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get too used to it. Gerald will be gone in three weeks.” And for her, that moment could not come soon enough.

* * *

GERALD STUFFED HIS hands in the pockets of his slacks as he roamed the shoreline. Though a stiff breeze blew off the choppy bay, the sun was warm and he lifted his face to it. Where before the water had risen high on crashing, angry waves, the morning after the storm it moved in on lightly whooshing crests that rolled into the sandy shore in front of Olivia’s tavern and the inn. The water sluiced around the thick, wooden pillars underneath the inn’s dock. He was surprised to hear the cry of seagulls and the honk of geese coming from the parks that lined the neighboring bluff.

Apparently the calm came after a storm here. It was almost like a religion, this kind of serenity. Though the main road wasn’t far behind Hanna’s and Tavern of the Graces and its adjoining shops, the whish and roar of vehicles didn’t penetrate the quiet October morning.

Gerald’s shoulders relaxed, any lingering tension left over from his journey here sliding away slowly but surely.

His instincts were right about this place. He was sure of it—as sure as he was about the woman he had married.

The morning after their alcohol-fueled romp around Las Vegas, Gerald hadn’t been lying when he’d told Olivia that he had been staying there for business. In fact, he had been there for two straight weeks meeting with the motion picture studio that wanted to make his Rex Flynn book series into a film franchise.

The negotiations had been far more stressful than he’d anticipated. After two weeks of trying to hash things out with screenwriters, movie producers and potential directors, there were still too many decisions to be made, compromises to mete out.... Was it any wonder he’d been having trouble writing lately? All the noise created by the business side of his successful writing career was drowning out the quiet voice of his muse.

At the end of those two weeks in Nevada, sitting at the bar that fateful night in the club downing his Scotch like water, Gerald had wondered how the idea of making his Rex Flynn books into a movie franchise had ever seemed like a good one. The character belonged on paper where Gerald—or, rather, his muse—called the shots.