Kay David: Marriage To A Stranger

Her father’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I need you to work this case, Lara, and so does Conley.”

Lara swung her head around, her hands clenched at her sides. “You can fire me if you like, but I’m not taking this on. Conley doesn’t need a bodyguard so much as he needs a baby-sitter. When he goes out, when he’s in the office…someone has to be with him 24/7. And whoever it is has to be good. Someone no one will notice.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re going to have to find the perfect person.”

“That’s right.”

His repetition registered, and Lara finally understood. She held up her hands as if she could ward off his suggestion. “No way. I am not—”

“You have to. You’re the only one who can be around him that much and not raise any suspicions. No one will give your presence any thought. The setup’s too great to ignore.” Her father stared at her, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. “You’re his wife,” he said quietly. “And you’re going to have to act like it whether you want to or not.”

Dear Reader,

I married my husband when I was nineteen years old. He was five years older than I. He came from a small town in West Texas, and I grew up in a large metropolitan area. He was an engineer, and I wrote. He was intense, I wasn’t. My parents were married, his were divorced. I’m Anglo, he’s not.

When we walked down the aisle, money had to be changing hands. The odds were probably a thousand to one on the marriage lasting. We were too young and too different. But very much in love.

Twenty-seven years later, we’re still together—and still much in love. We’ve moved fourteen times, from one end of the world to the other (literally). We’ve lost dreams and replaced them with new ones. We’ve lost hope and found it again. Like everyone else’s, our marriage has had good times and bad.

And that’s why I wanted to write Marriage to a Stranger. Sometimes, no matter how long you’ve been together, you wake up one morning and realize you don’t really know the person next to you. Your partner’s changed. Or most likely, you both have.

In this book, Conley Harrison knows he doesn’t want a divorce. He hasn’t been the best mate in the world, but he has his reasons and believes they’re good ones. He decides he’s not going to let Lara go, at least not before he tries to make things right one last time.

His success—or failure—depends not only on himself but on Lara, as well. Is their love strong enough to survive?

Sincerely,

Kay David

P.S. Visit my Web site at www.kaydavid.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Marriage is one of the trickiest relationships.

You have to be lucky to have a good one, but you have to be smart to make it last. This book is dedicated to everyone who has been brave enough to walk down the aisle and also to those who are contemplating taking the plunge. How do you know you’re doing the right thing? You don’t. You only know you can’t do anything else!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I WANT A DIVORCE.”

Standing in the doorway of her kitchen, Lara Harrison spoke in a calm and deliberate manner. Last night, she had practiced saying the words over and over. Looking into her bathroom mirror, her face straight and her voice quiet, she had repeated herself until the fateful sentence had come out sounding both dignified and determined. At least until she’d started to cry.

By dawn, she’d run out of tears. Now, in the painful morning light, all she had left was the awful realization that her marriage was over.

From across the room where he sat at the breakfast table, Conley Harrison, her husband of seven years, put down his coffee mug and looked at Lara. Conley was always collected and composed, and her pronouncement did nothing to change this.

His reaction—or lack thereof—was exactly what she’d expected.

Conley’s taciturn manner—the complete opposite of her father’s nonstop agitation—had thrilled Lara when they’d first married. Quiet and mysterious, her husband had been everything she’d wanted in a man. Things had changed, though, and his attitude had begun to drive her insane. He didn’t share his feelings or let her know what he thought about anything. If she wanted his opinion, she had to drag it out of him. Lately, as impossible as it seemed, he’d become even more reticent. He answered her questions with curt replies and appeared totally preoccupied. To make matters worse, all he did was work. On the rare occasions when he did have a free hour, he acted as if he had better things to do than be with her.

Which, she suspected, he did…and had for some time. She quickly shut her mind to that painful reality. It wasn’t the primary motivation for her decision and there was nothing she could do about it one way or the other.

His jaw twitched, a reaction he couldn’t control, and he repeated her words. “You want a divorce.”

She looked at him steadily. “It’s time to call this one over, Conley. Past time.”

“I don’t believe I understand.”

Lara shrugged as if she didn’t care, but deep inside she struggled to contain her churning emotions. They’d fallen in love so deeply it had almost hurt. She had meant it when she’d promised to love him “forever and ever.” But now forever was over.

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” she replied. “I’m simply tired of living this way.” She crossed her arms. “You do nothing but work. You’re never at home. We aren’t a married couple and we haven’t been for quite a while. I think it’d be best—for both of us—to go our separate ways.”

“And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a long time.”

The cold silence built, a reflection of the day outside. The snow had started last night after Lara had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep; she’d woken and heard the quiet in the middle of the night, had sensed the heavy blanket of white. Years ago, she’d loved the wild Colorado winters. They’d meant she and Conley had an excuse to stay at home in bed.

She couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened, though. She’d moved out of their bedroom several months ago. Sleeping by herself in the room they’d once shared, night after night when Conley didn’t come home, had become a special torture all its own.

The last time they had made love had been more than ten months ago. They’d been in the Turks and Caicos, a small group of islands in the Caribbean. The whole trip had been a foolish idea; Lara wasn’t even sure why she’d agreed to go but she’d been so surprised when Conley had suggested a holiday, she’d said yes without thinking. Once there, they’d passed by the docks one evening on their way to dinner, and she’d caught an aching glimpse of the sailboats in the harbor. A long time ago, they’d promised each other they’d buy a boat and live on it someday. She’d even given Conley a compass when they’d barely had money enough for food.

The failed vacation had been awkward and uncomfortable; a heavy weight neither could carry by themselves.

She looked at Conley again. “You know how I’ve felt. Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”