A Convenient Proposal Read online

  “Is there something you want or need, Arden? Something I can give you? I’m not filthy rich, but I could probably grant most reasonable requests. Jewelry?” He looked her up and down, then shook his head, because she wasn’t even wearing earrings. “Clothes? A car? Land? My family owns some nice property on the Georgia coast and in the mountains, up near Lake Lanier. Tell me what you want. Let’s see if somehow I can make it happen.”

  Instead of looking at his all too tempting face, Arden stared down at the sand between her bare feet and his. An idea popped into her mind, burrowing up from somewhere deep in her subconscious, a suggestion so outrageous that he would no doubt turn her down immediately and walk out of her life without a glance backward.

  And that was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  Lifting her head, Arden kept her face stern. “There is something I want, Griff. Something I think you could give me.”

  His hands tightened on her upper arms. “Great. Just spare me two months of your life and I’ll do whatever it takes to make your dream come true.”

  She hesitated again, then looked him in the eye. “What I want from you, Griff, is simple.

  “I want a child.”

  GRIFF’S BRAIN WOBBLED inside his skull. “What did you say?”

  Arden’s gaze didn’t falter. “A child. I want you to make me pregnant.”

  The champagne he’d been drinking nonstop kicked in at that moment, driving his mental wobble into a full-blown, three-hundred-sixty-degree tilt. With the world spinning, Griff stepped away, dropped heavily onto the sand, then collapsed backward to lie spread-eagle on the beach.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned. “I drank too much. I’m having hallucinations.”

  “You heard me correctly,” the serene voice said from high above him. “But if you’re not interested, I understand. Happy New Year.”

  He opened his eyes and saw that she had turned to leave. “Wait.” Flailing a hand sideways, he managed to snag the hem of her dress between two fingers. “Don’t go.”

  She could’ve pulled free with one step, but she didn’t.

  So Griff tugged at the dress. “Sit down. I can’t talk to you way up there.”

  To his surprise, she folded her lithe body into a compact package just out of his reach.

  “Thanks.” He let his head drop back, and put an arm over his eyes. The whirling in his brain didn’t stop. “Let me see if I understand. You want me to marry you and make you pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “I thought—”

  “I want a child. I don’t want a husband.”

  That stopped him cold, and the gyrations in his head slowed down a little. “So…we’d be lovers?”

  “Briefly. Until I got pregnant.” After a pause, she said, “I would, of course, stay until the, um, favor I’d be doing for you was completed.”

  “Right.” His mind drifted back to the New Year’s kiss they’d shared. Powerful incentive, that kiss. He turned his head on the sand to look at her. “Then what?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Then I would come back here, to my home. And you would do whatever you plan to do after the wedding.”

  There was a problem with that scenario, but he was having trouble chasing down the specifics. A man would have to be made of stone if he failed to react to the sight of Arden Burke on the beach beside him, with hair like a fringe of black silk along her jawline, her skin as smooth and creamy as magnolia blossoms and her lips the color of a rosy dawn. She was slender but not shapeless, as revealed by the low neck of her dress and the curves of her calves and ankles.

  Griff was not made of stone. In fact, at this moment his blood surged through him like waves of liquid metal—iron, maybe, heated to its boiling point, burning from the inside out.

  And he was getting dizzier by the minute, sleepier by the second. “It’s a deal,” he said with a yawn. “We’ll leave in the morning.” With the decision made, he rolled onto his side, pillowed his head on his arm and gave in to sleep.

  ARDEN GOT TO HER FEET and stood surveying the man snoring in the sand. It would serve him right if she left him there to spend the rest of the night. He’d be miserable enough. And that was before the crabs started to nibble.

  She actually walked away, getting as far as the sea grass on the primary dunes. There, she stopped to look back.

  He could hardly be seen in the darkness, just a long shape that might be a piece of driftwood or a mass of seaweed. He’d get five hours of sleep before the sun rose. As drunk as he was, he wouldn’t even remember what he’d offered, what she’d said…what they’d agreed to do. And that was for the best.

  So why was she going back to him? Why should she care what happened to this stranger on the shore?

  He’d turned onto his back again. Kneeling beside him, she studied the strong face and neck, the muscled shoulders and chest, the narrow waist and hips and really, really great calves. Not many men had such slim, straight legs. His tan testified to six months in the Caribbean sun and his hair, probably a light brown in Georgia, was a tangle of gold and silver waves. He would make beautiful babies.

  Or maybe not. Arden shook her head at her own foolishness. Maybe he was sterile. She should have him take a fertility test, not to mention other important examinations, before she committed to sex with a man about whom she knew nothing at all.

  A sudden ache constricted her chest and throat. Her own ability to conceive wasn’t in question. She knew she could make a baby. But could she carry it full term this time?

  Shaking her head again, she got to her feet. Whatever she decided tomorrow, whatever Griff did or didn’t remember, she couldn’t let him spend the night on the beach.

  Too bad she didn’t have the violin handy. She could make some pretty awful noises, enough to wake the dead, let alone the drunk. Her music was yet another loss she’d dealt with during this last year.

  So she kicked him. With the side of her bare foot, again, and again. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to irritate him thoroughly. After an amazing amount of abuse, Griff woke up, swearing and yelling even after he recognized her. He fell when she tried to help him up, and during their climb across the beach toward the dunes.

  “How far?” he panted, as they stepped onto the path leading inland. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Not far. No.” She barely found the breath to speak. He was leaning on her, his arm over her shoulders, and she felt as if she was bearing at least half his weight. “Just put one foot in front of the other.” That was the most she could manage at this point.

  As live oak trees started closing in overhead, the darkness became complete. All she could see was a swath of white sand leading into the jungle. Had she gotten them lost?

  No. With relief, she saw the side trail branching off to the left and the signpost for the cottage.

  “A few more minutes,” she told Griff. “And we’ll be home.”

  Home was a small stucco bungalow in a clearing within the dense grove of trees—one bedroom and one bath under a red tile roof. She’d left the porch light on during her walk to watch the fireworks. The yellow glimmer guided her back.

  Griff straightened up as he saw it, and blew out a deep breath. “I was beginning to wonder if you were planning to maroon me in the wilderness.”

  She slipped out from under his arm and stepped up to open the door to the screened porch. “I will, if you don’t behave.”

  He followed her inside. “I hear you.” Then he swayed and yawned at the same time. “At this point, I’m too incapacitated to make trouble for anybody.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Arden pushed open the door into the house, then gasped as a furry shadow raced past her.

  In the next instant, Igor pinned Griff Campbell against the wall.

  Chapter Two

  Crouched within biting distance, hackles raised, teeth bared, the black-and-brown collie mix made no sound, not even a growl. But the grim look in his eyes promised attack.

  Pressed again
st the wall of the screened porch, Griff cleared his throat. “Arden? A little help here?”

  She took hold of the dog’s collar. “What in the world is wrong with you, Igor? Is this how you say welcome home?”

  Igor waved his fluffy tail back and forth. But he didn’t change his stance, and his glare stayed on Griff.

  “I don’t usually get this reaction,” he said quietly. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him behave this way. Then again, I haven’t seen him with another person since I took him from the shelter.” Shaking her head, Arden started backing up, holding on to the dog. “I’ll put him away.”

  “No, wait. Let’s see if we can call a truce first. He’s a rescue?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me guess…his owner was a guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Abusive, probably.” Griff relaxed slightly. “Igor might think all men are out to hurt him.”

  “That could be true.” She went down on her knees beside the dog and put her arm around his neck. “It’s okay, Igor. Griff won’t hurt you. He likes dogs.”

  “I don’t like dogs that bite.” But he said the words in a pleasant, nonthreatening tone. “I didn’t hear him barking as we came up. I would have been better prepared.”

  “He doesn’t bark. His larynx has been removed. He ‘barked too much.’” Her tone made the words a quotation.

  “The bastard. Sometimes I’m ashamed to be human.” Moving slowly, Griff sank into a squat. “Right now, I’m ashamed to be a veterinarian.”

  Arden nodded. “I know what you mean.” At the sound of her calm voice, Igor lowered his hackles a fraction. “Should I leave, do you think? Will he be worse or better with me here?”

  Griff ran his gaze over her, from her sleek black hair to the tips of her pink-polished toes. “You won’t be able to stop him, whatever he decides to do. Maybe without you to protect, he’ll calm down.”

  “Okay.” She petted the dog again, then straightened up and retreated toward the house. When Igor didn’t move, she gave Griff a smile and a thumbs-up, then stepped inside and closed the door.

  Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Griff made his posture as unthreatening as possible. He didn’t want to sleep on the concrete floor of the porch, and the wicker chairs and love seat all looked creaky. The dog would have to let him into the house.

  “Good boy, Igor. Let’s be cool, okay?” He lowered his hands to hang between his knees, in full sight. “Sounds like you’re a good dog. I used to be a good dog. And I guess I’m going home to be a good dog again. So we’re going to be good dogs together, all right?”

  As far as Igor was concerned, he might have been saying, “Blah-blah-blah.” The tone mattered, though, and Griff kept it calm. “That’s it,” he said, as Igor’s lips lowered to cover his teeth. “No threat here. Just two good dogs, hanging out.”

  Pottery and metal clinked inside the house, and the aroma of coffee soon filled the air. Step by step, Igor drew closer to Griff, who stayed motionless as the dog reached out to sniff at his toes, his fingers, his wrists.

  “Good boy.” He lifted a finger to stroke the floppy ear.

  Igor scooted backward. His upper lip curled again, revealing those bright white canines.

  “Bad boy,” Griff told himself. “At this rate, the floor’s beginning to look pretty good.” The dizziness had evolved into a headache. His eyes burned and his stomach growled. “Terrific. I’m getting to enjoy the hangover without waiting for the morning after.”

  “This will help.” Arden stepped forward and set a cup of coffee on a nearby table, along with three white pills. “I’m going to put Igor in the bedroom. Then you can come in and sleep on the couch.”

  “That’s one way to protect your virtue,” Griff muttered as she led the dog away. “I’ll never get past Igor the man-eater.”

  Not that he had any inclination to ravish the fair maiden. At this point, he could generate sufficient passion for only one pursuit—sleep.

  After swallowing the aspirin, he left the mug of coffee half-finished and followed his desire onto the cushions of the gray leather couch in the living room. A pillow covered in soft pink cradled his head and a blanket in the same shade warmed his legs and shoulders.

  Should’ve brushed off my feet, he thought hazily. Sand everywhere…

  I wouldn’t dread going home, if she came with me….

  ARDEN RETURNED to the living room to find her stranger passed out again, on the couch this time. There would be sand everywhere, but vacuum cleaners existed for just that reason. In the morning they’d clean up the mess, have some breakfast, then she’d point him toward the pier and send him on his way. No sense in recalling the craziness they’d talked about. He’d already forgotten.

  And she would, in time. She and Igor were quite satisfied with their routine here on Chaos Key, just the two of them. Water and sun and sand, an occasional trip to the mainland and, always, the sound of the waves on the shore—the only music she wanted now, the last music she would know. The last sound of any kind.

  Bringing up a baby would only complicate her life. A child needed experiences, people and places Arden had determined to avoid. She could have one or the other. Not both.

  Let that dream go. She settled into her bed with Igor curled up against the backs of her knees, a little more tensely than usual. You chose this path. Now honor it.

  A strangled snore reached her from the living room, and Arden sighed. Letting go would have been much easier only a day ago. Even an hour ago.

  Last year, that would be. Before she’d met Griff Campbell.

  HE WAS STILL ASLEEP, with the pillow over his head and the rest of him covered by the blanket, when she got up at seven. He’d roused at some point, because the coffee mug she’d given him had been emptied and set in the sink. Would a single cup be sufficient to ward off the headache he’d earned?

  Arden made a fresh pot, gave Igor his breakfast and took her own mug out to the porch, where she usually spent her mornings. No doubt the smell of coffee would awaken her guest soon enough.

  When an hour had passed and the growling in her stomach had begun to make Igor nervous, she went back to the kitchen for breakfast. She finished off her bowl of yogurt with nuts and honey, and Griff still hadn’t stirred. Igor now sat beside the porch door, anxious for their daily walk on the beach.

  Arden hesitated, then stepped outside and let the screened door slap shut behind her. This was one reason she didn’t want a man in her life, let alone a husband. A woman in a relationship had to cater to his demands, his expectations and his schedule. His plans and his goals would take over, while what she wanted and needed drifted away like a leaf on the ocean. Arden had never met a male of the species who didn’t think of himself first.

  Walking the beach under a bright blue sky and throwing a piece of driftwood for Igor to retrieve, she saw no reason to revoke her decision. The only thing she wanted from anyone these days, especially men, was distance—even a man as seductive and engaging as Griff. Or maybe especially one as seductive and engaging as Griff.

  But would there really be a drawback to doing him the favor he asked? To judge by his attitude, he still had feelings for his ex-fiancée, which would surely minimize any complications. Arden didn’t doubt she could keep her own emotions under control—between them, her father and her ex-fiancé had demonstrated the utter faithlessness of men. Not only were they too much trouble, they couldn’t be trusted any farther than you could throw them.

  But a baby…ah, a baby would give her a reason to live. A child—boy or girl, it didn’t matter—would be all she could ask as a replacement for the loss of her hopes and dreams. A year ago, her belly had just started to become rounded when her entire world came crashing down. No more music, no marriage, no connection with her mother. And no baby.

  Now Griff offered her a second chance. And though she could afford artificial insemination, she preferred the old-fashioned method of procreatio
n, especially with Griff Campbell as the official candidate—a man who, to her surprise, she liked and desired. If she agreed to his proposal, he could keep his pride intact and she would get the family she’d always wanted.

  What do I have to lose?

  The answer struck her like a slap in the face. By connecting so intimately with Griff Campbell, she would give away the independence she’d waited so long to enjoy. The solitude she valued. The anonymity required to cope with her new life.

  “Good morning!”

  She turned at the call to see him sauntering over the sand in her direction. He had a lazy way of walking, with a little bit of a slouch to his lean body, completely at odds with the energy she could see in his bright blue eyes. Though he wore the same clothes as last night, he looked neat and presentable. And far too appealing to resist.

  “Good morning,” he said again. “Sorry to be such a lazybones. That couch of yours is way too comfortable.”

  “Not a problem,” she lied. Seeing him again awakened all her anxieties, as well as her yearnings. “Igor and I just followed our usual schedule.”

  “Stick chasing is a great way to start the day.” Griff stretched down a hand to Igor, who had parked himself, stick in mouth, at her feet. “Want me to throw for you, son?”

  Igor bared his teeth.

  Griff straightened up. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”

  Arden stopped herself from apologizing. “Are you feeling okay? No hangover?” No memory of the crazy plan we talked about last night?

  “Nope. You make great coffee. The perfect antidote for the morning after.” His grin revealed even white teeth and showed off the lips she remembered tasting last night.

  “Well, you must be starving. Let’s go back to the house and I’ll make some eggs and toast. I don’t have bacon, I’m afraid.”

  He held up a hand. “Not necessary. I saw you had some yogurt in the fridge, so I added nuts and honey and made a meal. Couldn’t do much about my clothes except shake them out, but I did borrow a towel and take a shower.” He scratched his fingers over his stubbly chin. “Not your razor, though. I look pretty rough.”