Leigh Michaels - His Trophy Wife

“That’s the deal,” Sloan replied.

“Usually, you know, it’s older guys who have divorced their first wives who are looking for a trophy to display.”

“I was too busy fifteen years ago to find someone unsuitable to marry, just so I could discard her now in order to acquire you. You don’t appear to have any time to lose, Miss Ashworth. Are you interested or not?”

Morganna raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Convince me that what you’re offering is worth the price you’re asking.”

To have and to hold…

Their marriage was meant to last—and they have the gold rings to prove it!

To love and to cherish…

But what happens when their promise to love, honor and cherish is put to the test?

From this day forward…

Emotions run high as husbands and wives discover how precious—and fragile—their wedding vows are…. Will true love keep them together—forever?

Marriages meant to last!

Part-Time Marriage (#3680)

by Jessica Steele

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Dan Thompson of the Kansas State Fire Marshal’s Office. Thanks for the wholehearted way you threw yourself into this project!

PROLOGUE “So, it’s not really a marriage you’re proposing, it’s a straight-out trade. Your money for my name,” Morganna said. “That’s the deal,” Sloan replied. “Usually, you know, it’s older guys who have divorced their first wives who are looking for a trophy to display.” “I was too busy fifteen years ago to find someone unsuitable to marry, just so I could discard her now in order to acquire you. You don’t appear to have any time to lose, Miss Ashworth. Are you interested or not?” Morganna raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Convince me that what you’re offering is worth the price you’re asking.”

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

HIS office was seriously out of style these days, compared to the sleek corner suites occupied by many corporate executives. It didn’t boast deep carpeting or antique furniture or original art. And its windows didn’t show off a stunning panorama of a landscape or a city skyline or even a sunset. Instead Sloan Montgomery’s very old-fashioned office lay almost at the center of the building that housed Sticks & Stones, and its windows overlooked the production line. That arrangement had been the standard in industrial design eighty years before, when the building was new, and Sloan had never seen any reason to change it. He could keep a closer eye on the furniture being built down on the factory floor when all he had to do was turn around from his desk to take a look. And he had always been able to think better with the rumble and whine of the machines in the background.

His right-hand man, the controller of Sticks & Stones, tapped on the half-open door of Sloan’s office. “Here’s that information you wanted.” He laid a folder on the corner of the desk. “The credit report is right on top. It’s not a pretty sight.”

Sloan’s fingers itched to reach for the folder, but he schooled himself to patience. This had waited a long time; it would last a minute longer, till he was alone. “Thanks, Joel.”

The controller showed no inclination to leave. Instead he moved around the end of the desk to stand with his back to the stream of warm air coming from the space heater which warmed the office on cold mornings. “I know it’s none of my business—”

Very true, Sloan thought.

“But I can’t get straight in my mind why you want all that information. As far as I can see, Burke Ashworth had nothing to do with Sticks & Stones. He wasn’t a competitor or a supplier. He wasn’t even a customer, and thank heaven for that, because it appears he owed money to everybody but us in three states by the time he drove his car off that bridge.”

“There are more ways to be in debt than by owing money, Joel.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Joel sounded doubtful. “It appears that he did it on purpose. Drove off the bridge, I mean. There was still a suicide clause on his life insurance policy.”

“So he was trying to make his death appear to be an accident?”

Joel nodded. “Not very successfully, I’d say. Look at the whole picture. He was up to his neck in debt with no way to pay it off. About the only thing he actually owned was the car he was driving, and it’s just scrap metal now.”

“He could have declared bankruptcy.”

“From what I’ve heard, Burke Ashworth would rather be tragically dead than look like a loser. Besides, filing for bankruptcy wouldn’t have done him much good—the federal government doesn’t forgive things like unpaid income tax. No, a convenient accident was his only way out. I couldn’t locate a single asset that hasn’t already been spoken for by a half-dozen creditors.”

Now there, Sloan thought, his controller—good as he was—had missed the mark. For Burke Ashworth had left behind an unencumbered asset. Just one.

He had left a daughter.

And if Sloan played his cards right, Morganna Ashworth would pay off her father’s debt. Every last fragment of it.

Six Months Later

THE four of them were laughing over some silly thing—Morganna didn’t even remember what it had been—when she caught a glimpse of the dainty platinum watch on her wrist. “Time for me to go home,” she said, pushing her chair back from the bridge table. “Sloan will be back from San Francisco today.”

“And the little wife wants to be waiting to welcome him home from his business trip,” said the redhead sitting next to her. “Even after half a year of marriage—how touching.”

From the seat on Morganna’s other side, a brunette rolled her eyes. “Don’t be sarcastic, Sherrie. You know perfectly well if it was you instead of Morganna that Sloan was coming home to, you’d be standing by the front door waiting for him.”

“For Sloan Montgomery? Not on your life,” Sherrie said. “I’d already be in the bedroom.”

They all laughed, but Morganna had to make an effort. And she noticed as she looked across the table at her hostess that Emily’s amusement, too, was only on the surface; her eyes were not smiling.

“It really isn’t fair, Morganna,” Sherrie went on. “He’s not only gorgeous, but all you have to do is murmur that you want something, and you’ve got it. Your house, that rock on your left hand, your new car—talk about the woman who has everything. Even if the rest of us were lucky enough to stumble onto a guy who’d buy us anything we wanted, trust me—he’d be eighty-two and toothless. Sloan is everything a woman could want.”

The envy which dripped from Sherrie’s voice seemed to turn to sulfuric acid against Morganna’s skin. But, she told herself, it was crazy to resent Sherrie’s perceptions of her marriage, when the woman had picked up precisely the image that Morganna had worked very hard to project.