Pamela Stone - Last Resort - Marriage

“And as the new assistant manager, Perry will be here to keep an eye on the business.”

Aaron buttoned and then unbuttoned the jacket. No doubt, Perry was here to watch more than the business. The last thing they needed was Thurman snooping around.

He remained patient while they measured the tux for alterations. Before he could pay for the evening wear, Harrington handed the clerk a platinum card. Aaron started to object, but changed his mind. This whole charade was for the old man’s benefit, anyway. Why shouldn’t he shoulder the expense? Any man who’d force his own granddaughter to get married just to spawn an heir deserved whatever he got.

The clerk assured them the tux would be at the boat in forty-five minutes, altered, pressed and ready to go.

Aaron never failed to be amazed at the power of the almighty buck. “Great, I’ll have fifteen minutes to dress and get to my wedding. Nothing like cutting things to the last minute.”

“Do you have honeymoon plans?”

A pretend honeymoon wasn’t part of the bargain. He had to get his boat running in two weeks or he’d have to cancel the tours he had booked for Spring Break. “Maybe we’ll take a trip in the fall.”

“A good marriage deserves a good start. A couple days shouldn’t bankrupt either of you. Charlotte looks exhausted. Take time to relax and enjoy each other.”

The old geezer actually seemed excited about the prospect of Charlie getting laid. Did he think he could control their sex life, too? “Don’t you have other children or grandchildren to worry about?”

Harrington huffed. “My only son—the self-centered playboy—married a starlet with a brain the size of a pea. Two of a kind. They were killed nine years ago in the Alps when they ran their snowmobile off a cliff.”

“Charlie’s parents?” Aaron winced at Harrington’s nod, picturing how devastated self-reliant Charlotte probably was by the loss of her parents. “She must have been what, nineteen or twenty?”

“You two don’t talk much, do you?” Harrington asked.

“Hasn’t exactly been high on the priority list.”

The old man pursed his lips. “Don, Charlotte’s older brother, was in California at the time, studying acting. Like his mother in more ways than I care to discuss.” Edward took a breath. “And then there’s Charlotte.”

“And then there’s Charlotte,” Aaron repeated. “There is Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s head throbbed. Things were happening too fast. How could her entire life turn upside-down in thirty-six hours?

The reflection in the pink marble-framed mirror was that of a stranger. Soft curls teased her cheek. She shifted from one satin stiletto to the other and tried to stand still as the hairdresser fussed with the placement of tiny flowers in her hair. She fingered her grandmother’s pearls. Today they felt more like a noose than a treasured family heirloom.

She’d never made use of the spa at the resort for more than an occasional massage, yet today Edward had pushed her into the shell-pink suites where her body had been massaged, waxed, buffed and conditioned. Her nails were French-tipped and the girl had painted a tiny white flower on her big toe. Subtle highlights streaked her freshly trimmed and curled hair. The artistically applied makeup put the two-minute blush and mascara she smeared on each morning to shame.

Edward had instructed Rosa, the woman who ran the resort boutique, to pick out a special outfit for the occasion. Rosa had been born with a rare gift for guessing a customer’s size, taste and credit limit in the span of twenty seconds. Always attentive to details, she’d included an array of accessories, right down to a lacy blue garter.

Charlotte felt like Cinderella. All this feminine pampering would have made her mother proud.

Still, it seemed senseless for a pretend wedding. Okay, so the wedding was real, but the marriage was temporary.

To satisfy the old saying, she had a blue garter, a new dress and the heirloom pearls she’d inherited after her grandmother died. Charlotte closed her eyes. Did a groom count as something borrowed?

She just wanted to get this dog and pony show over with. Focus on the goal. If they could pull this off, in six months Edward would sign the resort over to her, Aaron would be history, and she could put this insane charade behind her.

Charlotte blinked at her reflection. Who was this chic woman staring back? She was getting married in…She glanced at her Gucci watch and gulped. “I’m late.”

She smoothed her white linen tea-length gown, waved Rosa and the fretting hairdresser away, and hurried across the manicured lawn.

A lavish reception filled the Hibiscus Ballroom. Charlotte’s personal attorney had Aaron’s signature on the prenuptial agreement and the bank had approved the loan. Her stomach cramped. The payments on a hundred thousand dollars would put a sizeable crimp in her investment portfolio.

Palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze as Edward strolled down the sidewalk, looped his arm through hers, and whispered, “The most beautiful bride since your grandmother walked down the aisle fifty years ago. She’d be so proud. She worried that you wouldn’t take time for a family.”

Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes.

She squeezed his arm. How could she love someone so much and want to strangle him at the same time? As much as she hated his ability to manipulate her, there wasn’t a soul on earth who loved her except her grandfather. No matter how foolhardy his plan, his intentions were irreproachable.

They moved toward a small yacht that had sailed up to the resort dock an hour ago. It sported bright aquamarine trim and flew billowing flags. A dubious-looking captain in a flashy uniform stood at the helm amidst a forest of bright tropical flowers.

Bile rose in her throat.

You can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. The next time her feet touched this grass, she’d be a married woman. Married to Aaron Brody. She froze.

She hadn’t eaten all day. Maybe she could faint and save herself from this self-inflicted lunacy. Except she’d never fainted, not once in her entire life, so the chances of that feminine ploy saving her from this fiasco seemed remote.

A resort wedding created excitement, but today’s crowd seemed unusually enthusiastic. Guests stopped to smile and applaud as she passed. Aaron’s friends and a handful of her employees waved from the deck. Strange time to realize she didn’t have any friends, only business acquaintances.

Charlotte had always clung to the idea that if she ever did marry, it would be to a man she loved. A fat brown pelican taunted her from the corner post of the dock. So much for her one girlish fantasy. Clutching her grandfather’s arm, she took a tentative step onto the yacht. A step away from her safe world. A step toward her new life as a deceiver.

The bridal march began. Her eyes searched out Aaron standing at the front of the boat. She let out a relieved breath. He’d actually shown up.

It took a minute to recognize him. He looked elegant in a formal black tux. Like a gentleman—suave, calm, almost eager. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before the charming smile returned. His eyes smoldered as she walked down the short aisle.

Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched Charlie approach. My God, she’s regal. She radiated class from her upswept hair to the tip of her white sandals. Tall and slender, back straight as a soldier, head held proud, and wearing a flimsy white dress that rustled and clung to her curves as she glided toward him.

Tempting cleavage peeked out above the square neckline. Her arms were bare. Too bad the dress covered so much of her legs.

A few wispy strands of dark blond hair curled down her back and at her temples. Tiny white flowers cupped one side of her face in a gentle caress. She looked beautiful. Scared to death, but beautiful.