I Don't Want to be Married Read online

  “Mrs. Smith, can we have your keys?” The officer extended his hand.

  Confused, she didn’t respond right away.

  “Rosalind, they need your keys,” Mr. Fergussen urged.

  “Oh, sorry. Still getting used to the name. It’s a blue Silverado.”

  She handed the keys to one of the guards and he left with the police officer. The remaining security guard moved to the door.

  “Mr. Fergussen, I’m sorry.” She raked a hand through her hair, beyond irritated.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be better prepared next time.”

  “Oh, right. Next time,” Rosalind echoed.

  They sat in silence. Not knowing what to say, she played with her phone as the noise gradually lessened. A few minutes later, the door opened and the two men returned.

  “If you’re ready, Mrs. Smith, we’ll escort you out.”

  Rosalind nodded. The men flanked her as they exited Mr. Fergussen’s office and escorted her through the bank.

  Safely in her truck, she swore a string of barroom curses as she clutched the steering wheel for the second time in an hour. Honking the horn, she inched away amidst a crowd of people. In the rearview mirror, she saw the blue and white patrol car following her.

  So much for keeping a low profile. Focused on the road, she fumed with anger.

  How dare he do this to me? How am I supposed to go into town for groceries? He’s ruined everything.

  The lone gravel road with the sign Dunne Ranch came into view, and she signaled for the turn. The patrol car blasted their siren for a second, then went on their way.

  Rational reasoning seeped in as she neared her house. She wouldn’t be able to intimidate, pressure, or blackmail Mr. New Yorker into anything he didn’t want to do.

  Oh my God. I took a million dollars from him. Crap. I’m back to square one. How was she going to persuade him to sign the papers?

  Then it dawned on her.

  Sex.

  She’d play his game. He was always talking about getting her into bed.

  She’d have sex with Mr. New York City.

  Though Rosalind hadn’t been with anyone since she and Tom had sacked their relationship, she couldn’t deny she’d enjoyed Allan’s kisses in Las Vegas. He’d made her feel things she’d never felt before.

  Could she do it? Could she trust a man again?

  Pieces of a new plan formed. She’d agree to a single night of sex. Or, as Allan informed her, they’d have his wedding night. The catch, only if he signed the papers first. Shifting the truck into park, she proceeded to the house with confidence, her head held high.

  Chapter 12

  The ding of the phone awoke Allan. Dazed from sleep, he grabbed his phone and saw his office number. Tiffany.

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Smith, the property is now owned by your firm. The owners, an elderly couple, hadn’t wanted to make a deal at first. Something about promises and knowing Ms. Dunne—sorry, Mrs. Smith, all her life.”

  “I’m assuming it will take about a month for all the paperwork to be completed.”

  “Yes, there was a mortgage to pay off. I kept raising the price. They finally caved at well above the asking price. I’m sure we overpaid,” Tiffany said.

  “Any amount of money will be worth it. Obtaining my revenge is priceless. Anything on the old man?”

  Allan combed his fingers through his hair. Yawning, he realized he must’ve dozed off. He glanced at his Rolex.

  Two hours? Shit. I didn’t have time for a goddamn nap.

  “No, not yet. Still working on it. Will you be calling in, or should I call you?”

  “Anything you find can wait till tomorrow. I’ll check in at nine o’clock. Don’t forget to find me an office in town. I’m using my hotspot for service. The internet connection sucks.”

  “Yes, Mr. Smith.”

  “Thanks, Tiffany.”

  “Have a nice night.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  The phone went dead and Allan opened his suitcase just as a fist pounded on the door.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Who do you think? The maid,” came Rosalind’s growl.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Allan unfastened the first two buttons of his dress shirt and quickly tugged out his shirttails, creating the look he knew made women swoon.

  When he wanted a woman, he got her. Before leaving he’d have sex with Rosalind if it was the last thing he did.

  Opening the door, he placed a hand on the frame. Caught off guard for a moment, Allan stared into an unusual shade of green eyes. He hesitated, unable to speak.

  No wonder he’d been dreaming of a woman with eyes the color of emeralds.

  Neither said a single word. Knowing he’d mastered the art of turning females into hungry women, Allan’s mouth curved in a smile. Her gaze darkened, now a deeper green, tinged with desire. She slowly licked her lips.

  She’s mine for the taking.

  He leaned in toward her, removed his hand from the door, and placed it on her waist. Her breath warmed his cheek, half an inch away. Soon he’d be able to feel her. Taste her.

  “Rosalind,” Allan breathed softly.

  The pending kiss never happened. Rosalind stepped away abruptly at the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs, only to be stopped by the opposite wall. What had occurred earlier at the bank faded as she stared at Allan, unable to remember the reason she’d knocked on the door in the first place. She could smell his spicy, musky cologne and it triggered images of their night in Vegas.

  She wanted to kiss him, run her hands over his broad chest again, feel the warmth of his exposed skin.

  “Rosalind, is that you? You’re home early. How did your appointment go with Mr. Fergussen?” Sam’s voice bellowed from the second floor.

  Her eyes stayed focused on Allan’s face. I need to breathe.

  “Fine. I mean fine and terrible. Because of . . .”

  As her words tumbled out, she remembered the crowd at the bank, the police, and she pointed an accusing finger at Allan.

  “It’s all your fault. I’m not able to show my face in town without a police escort.”

  She poked Allan in the chest. Giving him a shove, she turned and stalked away. She met Sam before as he reached the last step, her temper at its boiling point.

  I almost kissed him. I would’ve followed him to bed. He could’ve been gone by nightfall.

  She didn’t want to look at the most hunky, clean-cut man she’d ever seen outside of the rodeo circuit. She felt his presence behind her as she followed Sam into the family room.

  The tension in the room grew as thick as fog on an early autumn morning. Allan, still half dressed, leaned against the nearest wall. His penetrating glare was hot enough to light a campfire. The two men waited for her to speak. Sam slowly crossed to his favorite recliner.

  So unfair. Two against one. Rosalind paced around the family room not ready to say anything. Her emotions spiked from nervousness to defiance.

  “Missy, tell me what’s the matter,” Sam requested.

  She stopped her pacing and related what happened at the bank, purposely withholding the fact she’d taken a million dollars of Allan’s money.

  “He’s ruined my life. I want the divorce. He won’t sign the papers.” She fired her verbal jab in Allan’s direction.

  He pushed away from the wall and stood with his hands in his pockets. The pose emphasized his groin. Rosalind couldn’t look away from that bulge.

  “I ruined your life. Excuse me, Miss Rodeo Queen, but it’s the other way around. I never wanted to get married. If and when I did, I wouldn’t have picked a complete stranger. I was an unwilling partner, and I’ll tell your trustee or trustees we nev
er consummated our sham of a marriage. You’ll have to surrender all your money.” He sauntered closer as he spoke.

  His explosion of words hurt. Blinded by her wrath, Rosalind met his advance. “I paid you. I sent you the divorce papers. Nevertheless, here you are, delivering them unsigned. Sign them. You can be on your way in a few minutes. I’m never letting you touch me.”

  Now face to face, with only inches separating them, both fumed at each other.

  Finally, Sam stepped in. “No ‘OK Corral’ word-fighting in my house. Mr. Smith, Rosalind deserves your anger. In spite of her actions, she is right,” Sam scolded.

  In unison, they turned to stare at him, and Rosalind took a few steps away from Allan.

  “I’m the trustee,” Sam added.

  Allan’s eyebrows lifted. Rosalind’s lips curved in a satisfying smile.

  I’ve won. Sam’s on my side.

  “Then you need to do something. She shouldn’t have been allowed her inheritance. If you don’t put a stop to this madness, I’ll call my lawyers,” Allan threatened.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do, Mr. Smith. You’ll have one year from your wedding date to convince our wild filly, Rosalind here, to have a wedding night. If the year passes and you’re unable to consummate the marriage, I’ll have it nullified.”

  Sam returned to rocking in his chair as Rosalind gaped at him.

  “No,” she protested.

  “Yes,” Allan snickered.

  “If you’re unable to spend one night with your husband in a year’s time, Rosalind, you’ll have to return the inheritance plus interest.” Sam rocked some more.

  “No way. This is unfair, Sam. You of all people know why I did what I did. How I planned to use the money. I have clients waiting. You can’t expect me to wait another three years.”

  Her pleading had no effect on Sam, he sat stone faced. She ignored Allan as she paced the room again.

  “This is for your own good. You cheated. What you did was wrong. Did you think I’d stand by and allow you to take advantage of our friendship?”

  Damn. Damn. Damn. I can’t return the money.

  “Sam, you can’t be serious. Why would I allow him to have sex with me? I don’t even know him.”

  “You knew him enough to marry him.”

  “That’s unfair. Besides, he has a city boy attitude,” Rosalind retorted.

  “Thank you, Sam. You won’t have to worry,” Allan said. “I’m able to tame the best of the best. It’s the letting-go women have a problem with on my end. Nevertheless, be assured I will walk out of here with no regrets after I’ve completed your terms. It should only take a week or two, and I’ll be gone.”

  Rosalind fumed while Allan strutted toward her. She braced herself for another round of his verbal assault as they faced each other. Instead of words, he reached out and gently touched her cheek.

  The sound of her hand hitting his face snapped like a firecracker.

  “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  She whirled, grabbed her parka, and slammed the front door.

  “Does she ever shut doors quietly?”

  “Yeah, when it suits her,” Sam chuckled.

  Allan rubbed his cheek. “She has a mean right. Is her left as quick?”

  He opened and closed his mouth to test for damage, then pushed aside the thick curtain to watch Rosalind’s retreating figure. Her hips swayed enticingly even through the thick coat she wore. Maybe she’ll ride me tonight. He turned from the window and the disturbing picture she made, unsure why his emotions were so affected.

  “What type of proof will you be requiring?” he asked Sam, trying for a businesslike demeanor.

  “I don’t think I’ll be needin’ any.” Sam’s voice held a snicker.

  The man was laughing at him. Allan frowned. “Are you saying she’s a virgin?”

  “No, no boy. She’s had several boyfriends. There was one boy who’d meant more than the others did. They were young and in love when he asked her grandfather—Rodney was his name—for her hand in marriage. Rodney, by the way was my best friend. Anyway, he placed the stipulations on her inheritance. The boy was eager to marry Rosalind, before her grandfather could file the papers. He pressured Rosalind for a quick marriage . . .” Sam trailed off at the sound of the barn door slamming.

  They both looked toward the window. Allan glanced back at Sam who shrugged, then continued, “Rosalind wouldn’t do what the boyfriend wanted and tried to end the relationship. The boy got mean.”

  “Mean? How mean?”

  “Enough to scare her away from men.”

  “So I’ll go about this slowly. It’ll take longer than I’d expected,” Allan mumbled.

  “I’m gonna go check on her. I’d advise you not to follow.” Sam pushed out of his chair, coughed a few times, and followed Rosalind into the barn.

  Allan raked a hand through his hair. For the first time in his life he was questioning his sexual expertise. He might lose this battle. Women who’d been abused by men required support, sensitivity, and an emotional commitment. All things he’d never put into a relationship.

  He hadn’t expected this. He’d only wanted to teach Rosalind a lesson. Why was it now so important to have sex with her? Why did he want to?

  No answers came.

  He could still cancel the land deal. How would she react when she found out she lost it? And why did he care?

  Suddenly chilled, Allan headed to his room. Her story touched him. And consequently threw him a curveball.

  He was usually so good at appraising women. How could he have misjudged her? How could an unpretentious cowgirl have gotten the better of him more than once?

  What kind of sick bastard gets physical with women in a malicious way? It’s no wonder she’s jumpy.

  He unpacked his bags, took off his suit, and changed into a pair of jeans, all the while planning his next strategy. She wasn’t turned on by his charm, so there would be no quick surrender. As timid as a virgin, yet she could hold her own in a fight. Allan tested his sore jaw again.

  He could become her friend. Maybe friends with benefits.

  A new, improved plan formed as he stuffed boxers into an empty drawer.

  Chapter 13

  The creak of the barn door alerted Rosalind she wasn’t alone anymore. She continued to hug Dawn in hopes the person would leave. Only one person would dare follow her.

  “Rosalind?”

  Ice encased her heart and hardened at the sound of Sam’s voice. He’d betrayed her. His footsteps grew louder the closer he came to Dawn’s stall. Reaching inside her pocket for a lump of sugar, she found a leftover piece and held it out to Dawn.

  “Rosalind, I know you’re in here.”

  Dawn nickered and raised her head in defiance.

  “Shhh, it’s okay, girl,” Rosalind murmured.

  “You have to stop running,” Sam said and leaned against the door.

  She moved to Dawn’s opposite flank as her irritation for him and Allan cooled. Sam was always on her side, but for some reason he’d aligned himself with a stranger.

  She’d disappointed Sam. Everything she’d done was to save the horses. Clients were counting on her to help them. I’ve made promises. I can’t let them down too.

  Rosalind tipped her hat low to shield her face, and wiped at her tears. “I can if I want.”

  “You need to go inside and talk to your husband,” Sam declared and cleared his throat.

  “I’m not saying one word to him. I hope he’s packing his bags.”

  “He isn’t,” Sam stressed. “Your husband will be staying for at least one year unless you agree to return your inheritance.”

  She stayed hidden in the stall using Dawn as a shield, not ready to face Sam. She was cornered
and as useless as a four card flush.

  “Mister ‘Lover Boy’ better be packing,” she hissed, not able to ignore her swirling emotions and loss of control over the situation. “I’ll give Mr. Kennedy a call after dinner, to tell him I won’t be able to purchase Dwight’s land.”

  The sound of the bolt sliding back annoyed her. She eyeballed Sam over Dawn’s hindquarter. He stepped into the stall and gripped the wood as he coughed several times.

  “Should I take you to the doctor?”

  He continued to cough and placed a hand to his chest. Rosalind ducked below Dawn’s head and went to him.

  “No, I’m fine. Only the cold air in these old lungs,” he said and wiped at his mouth with a handkerchief.

  “I’ll look for some cough medicine. If Allan spends the night I’m sleeping in the barn.”

  He chuckled and coughed again. “I wouldn’t be so quick to put your tail between your legs, like you’ve done something wrong. Your grandpa raised a smart granddaughter. I’m not hearing or seeing that person right now.”

  “I don’t have my tail between my legs,” she contested and raised her head high.

  I’ll kick Mr. New Yorker’s ass over the water trough for causing me trouble.

  “Come on now. Don’t show me your temper.”

  Rosalind relented. “I know what I did was wrong. I’m admitting defeat.” Then she added in defiance, “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of, unless you’re saying because I’m conceding, I’m weak.”

  “No, what I’m saying, girl, there isn’t a reason for you to concede this soon.”

  “You think I should have sex with a stranger?” She spoke through gritted teeth, trying to hide her exasperation from Sam. The thought of Allan’s hands on her breasts again excited her so much it scared her. Tom, who’d she’d thought had been the sexiest bareback bull rider on the circuit, never left her as hungry for his touch as Allan had.