Trouble in High Heels Page 4

  “Unless he dies,” Jackson muttered.

  “Which would make me a very young widow-” Lori broke off. “I wonder what the requirements are if I’m widowed. If I married someone really old, maybe-”

  Jackson groaned. “If you married someone really old, you’d have to contend with his heirs.”

  Lori made a face. “Oh, well, scratch that idea.”

  “Age preference,” Jackson repeated.

  “Twenty-eight to forty,” she said.

  He scratched her answer on his pad of paper. “What about education?”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you care if this guy has a college degree or not?”

  Lori sighed. The truth was that she didn’t want to overthink this. She just wanted to do it so she could get it over with and have it interrupt her life as little as possible. “I suppose so.”

  Jackson nodded and made another note on his paper. “Do you have a preference about his physical appearance? Height, weight, body type, hair color, that kind of thing.”

  Lori gnawed her lip. “I’m not sure you’re getting this. I don’t really want to have to be married. I don’t want to spend much time with this man. Any time,” she added. “I want this to be a strictly business arrangement.”

  “And you don’t care what the press will say about it?” Jackson asked, his gaze level.

  Lori opened her mouth to answer no.

  “You don’t care what your friends will say behind your back. You don’t care what kind of impact this may have on a future real marriage.”

  Lori felt her stomach twist. “I may not want to get married.”

  “What if you do? What if you have children?”

  She bit her lip hard. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He obviously didn’t know that she probably couldn’t ever have children because of the terrible horseback riding accident. “I don’t think I’m cut out for motherhood,” she managed in an airy voice, ignoring the stabbing sensation inside her.

  He gave her a long, considering glance, as if he were weighing his opinion of her. His gaze swept to the pad of paper, and Lori experienced that old, familiar feeling of not measuring up.

  She felt naked and vulnerable, but not for long. Self-righteous anger burned to the surface. She clenched her fingers into a fist to keep from throwing something at him.

  “No children,” he said. “Does that mean no sex?”

  The question took her off guard. The whole discussion unnerved her, but Jackson ’s tone was deep and rich, edged with a tinge of huskiness that teased something inside her. She met his dark gaze and felt an odd tugging sensation in her belly. She wondered what kind of lover he would be. Passionate, she decided. Whether a little rough or a little tender, he would be passionate when he made love to a woman. She wondered how he chose his lovers.

  Lori caught herself. What was she thinking?

  He was so anal he probably had some sort of numerical rating system and checklist.

  “I already told you this is supposed to be a business arrangement,” she said.

  “So is it okay if this guy gets taken care of on an extracurricular basis, or does the poor sap have to sign a chastity agreement?” He paused. “For that matter, what about you?”

  “No, he doesn’t have to sign a chastity agreement,” she said, feeling more huffy by the moment. “He just needs to be discreet.”

  “Discreet as in down the street, out of town, or out of the country?”

  Lori frowned. “I’m sure we can work out the details later.”

  Jackson shook his head. “You can get in a lot of trouble not taking care of details.”

  “Spoken just like an accountant,” she muttered under her breath.

  “I heard you,” he said. “Just remember, you asked an accountant to find your husband for you.”

  Lori bit her tongue to keep from sticking it out at him. “Okay. Discreet means in a different city and not in view of the press.”

  “For you, too.”

  She looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean, me, too?”

  “You’ll be discreet, too, by going to a different city when you have your affairs.”

  Lori wrinkled her nose. “You make it sound slimy.”

  He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Aloud, anyway. His expression said he thought the whole thing was slimy. Lori couldn’t stand his censure another moment. “I’m not slimy.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “You might as well have.” She pointed at his face. “Your eyebrow said it.”

  His lips twitched in amusement. “I didn’t know eyebrows could talk.”

  “Well, yours can,” she said, her hands on her hips.

  “I don’t think you’re slimy. I think you’re desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.”

  Her anger kicked up another notch. “I’m not stupid, either.”

  “I didn’t say-”

  “Close enough,” she said, cutting him off. “You know, you don’t understand because you’re a guy and you don’t know what it’s like to be female when your father was a wonderful man but he was also sexist, chauvinistic, and controlling.” She sighed. “This is my way of taking control of my life.”

  He shrugged. “As long as you’re sure living on a budget wouldn’t be easier than getting a husband.”

  “I have people counting on me. You obviously don’t understand. You must be free as a bird with no responsibilities, don’t have to answer to anyone…”

  She blinked, and he was looming over her. Her heart slammed in her chest at the dark expression on his face.

  “You make a lot of assumptions about me,” he said in a quiet, too-controlled voice.

  She refused to be intimidated. Even if her legs felt a little shaky. “You haven’t presented yourself as particularly compassionate.”

  He was silent for a long moment. Lori felt some kind of weird energy zinging between them. If the humidity and outdoor temperature hadn’t been ninety percent and ninety degrees, then she would have thought it was static electricity.

  “It’s not my job to be compassionate. It’s my job to help you learn to live within your means.”

  “Tilly was nicer than you are.”

  “No,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “Mr. Till was a pushover.”

  “And you’re not,” she said. “Darn shame.”

  “You need-”

  “Don’t you dare say I need a firm hand,” she interjected.

  “You need someone who will tell you the truth. I think you know that I’ll do that. That’s the reason you want me in charge of your harebrained scheme to get a husband. Because you know I’ll tell you the truth.”

  Lori tried not to squirm, but his words felt razor sharp. Even though Jackson lacked charm, she did feel she could trust him.

  “Stop making assumptions,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said, still feeling dissatisfied. “As long as you stop making assumptions about me. Yes, I’ve been overprotected. Yes, I’ve lived a privileged life. But I’m not selfish. I’m not stupid. And another thing,” she added. “People sometimes make assumptions based on lack of information. If you want to change my impression of you, give me different information.”

  “Deal,” he said and glanced down at his pad of paper. “I have one other question regarding your prospective husband. What did you have in mind for his annual salary?”

  Lori resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. Despite the fact that she’d decided this was a business arrangement, the idea of paying a man to be her husband was one more thing that made the whole plan feel icky. “I haven’t thought of a figure. Have you?”

  He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head. “I think it’s going to have to be seven figures.”

  Stunned and a little insulted, Lori gaped at him. “I can’t believe it’s going to be that much of a horrible job.” She lifted her shoulders. “What is this guy going to have to do? Pretend to like me, marry me, then go away with a settlement.”


  “You’re a beautiful, generous woman, but this kind of thing would drive a lot of men crazy. Think about it. No sex and putting your future on hold for years.”

  “I didn’t say no sex,” she insisted.

  “Just no sex with you or with anyone in the same town as you. Most heterosexual men can’t handle that kind of you-can-look-but-you-can’t-touch policy for a night, let alone years.”

  Something about the way he said sex got under her skin.

  “You’re just not going to be great wife material.”

  Chapter Five

  “If animals don’t like your boyfriend, it’s not a good sign.”

  – SUNNY COLLINS

  “You’re headstrong and you won’t compromise,” Jackson continued, infuriating her even further.

  “What you mean to say is I won’t cave to instructions just because they’re given to me by a man. I’m trying to remember the last time someone working for me said something so rude to me.”

  His eyes darkened. “Don’t pull rank, Lori. You’ve turned this into a circus, and I’m just trying to keep it within three rings. Part of the success of my assignment will be based on your expectations. If you don’t know what your expectations are, then you need to figure them out and tell me.”

  But that was the problem, she thought, balling one of her fists and swallowing the urge to shriek. She’d already figured out she didn’t want to overthink this. She just wanted to do it. “I want a polite, discreet, and clean man who will sign an agreement to be married to me for six years, who will accept a settlement of divorce and then get out of my life.” She refused to talk about it anymore. The intense discussion was upsetting her stomach, or maybe it was the expression in Jackson ’s eyes. “And stop judging me. You’ve never walked in my shoes.”

  He glanced down her legs at her high heels and his lips twitched. “I can’t disagree with that.”

  “Hallelujah, have we actually found something we agree on?” she said more to herself than him. He unnerved her. She’d been in his presence only a little longer than ten minutes, and she was already feeling restless. “Okay, I think you have enough to get started. Let me know when you have some prospects for me.” She bit back the urge to say Now shoo. Jackson didn’t strike her as the kind of man to accept shoo-ing.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, reluctantly extending her hand but figuring it was the most polite way to dismiss him.

  His large hand swallowed hers the same way his whole persona seemed to dwarf hers. The strength in his clasp was appealing, and while his confidence in himself made her all too aware of her lack of it, she couldn’t fight a grudging admiration. What she wouldn’t give to have that kind of confidence. She wondered how he had gotten it and suspected it hadn’t been the easiest path. Rock solid, so sure. The qualities were so attractive to her. But she knew he was a man who would only marry a submissive, agreeable woman-someone he could control. Not her, she told herself, and she gave his hand a firm shake.

  Just as she had for the last few nights, Lori nixed social outings in favor of reading letters from her mother. There were so many it was going to take a while to read all of them. Her mother’s letters were full of warmth and her distinctive wisdom. The early letters, filled with news about Katie and the pets Lori had left behind, made her stomach clutch with emotion.

  She glanced around her room, now redecorated in soft tones of mauve and blue, and remembered how when she’d first arrived here she’d been afraid the big bed would swallow her up in the dark.

  The doorbell interrupted her reverie and she frowned, glancing at the clock. Nine o’clock. Curious, she rose from her bed with the letter still in one hand and her glass of champagne in the other. She was limiting herself to one glass so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of Jackson again. She walked down the hall and had partway descended the steps when she stopped at the sound of a male voice.

  “Speak of the devil,” she murmured to herself, when Mabel allowed Jackson inside the door.

  He was dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt that accented his biceps and the exaggerated V shape of his body. His hair was the same, his face was the same. He was even holding a folder in one of those large hands of his. Without a suit, he seemed even more masculine to her.

  As if he felt her studying him, he glanced up at her, and she felt his quick but thorough survey. She wore shorts and a summery tank top. His gaze lingered on the bare sliver of belly the shirt revealed, and she fought the urge to cover herself. Silly, she told herself. She wasn’t naked. She just felt as if she was.

  “I have a few prospects for you to look over,” he said.

  Surprise rushed through her. “Already?”

  “You gave the impression you didn’t want to drag your feet,” he said. “And based on your spending, we need to get moving.”

  “Okay,” she said, feeling anything but okay. Nodding, she walked down the rest of the stairs.

  He lifted a brow at the sight of her champagne glass and the letter she held. “What did I interrupt?”

  “I wasn’t getting drunk,” she assured him. “Just reading some old letters.”

  He nodded, studying her face. “From your father?”

  She shook her head. “No. My mother. My father-” She stopped, feeling a sharp jab of hurt and anger all over again. “My father kept them from me until he passed away.”

  Jackson ’s mouth rounded in a low-voiced “Oh.” He was silent for a long moment that felt thick and full of emotion for Lori. “I could see where that might piss you off.”

  She gave a rough laugh. “That would be an understatement.”

  “Just how old are those letters?”

  “This one’s about eighteen years old.”

  He gave a whistle. “And your mom is-”

  “Dead,” she finished for him. “He didn’t tell me about that until she had been gone, either. Nor did he tell me about my half brother.” She felt her anger building. When she’d first found out about her mother’s death and her half brother, she’d been angry, but her concern over her father’s heart condition had kept her from letting him have it. Now that he was gone and she was left to deal with his controlling ways, she was having a tougher time forgiving him so easily.

  “Well, that puts a different spin on things,” Jackson finally said in a thoughtful voice.

  For once, he wasn’t looking at her in disapproval. The knowledge made something inside her loosen and sigh. Confused, she swallowed a sip of champagne. “It’s all pretty complicated.”

  He nodded and glanced at the folder in his hand, then the letter in her hand. “What’d your momma say?”

  She smiled. “She told me how my kitty cat was doing and how much she and Priss and Delilah missed me.”

  “Priss and Delilah?”

  “Half sisters. We all had different fathers,” she added. “My mother was always looking for the knight in shining armor to rescue her. She was gorgeous, and men were crazy for her. At least temporarily.” She grimaced, recalling some of the stories her sisters had told her. “Unfortunately, she was a little blinded by her hope in eternal love.”

  “And you’re not,” he said.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t help feeling a pinch of longing when she looked at her sisters’ happy marriages, but Lori had the strong sense that since she’d had the good life during her childhood, it would be too much to hope for that she would experience eternal love as an adult.

  Sure, she’d been obsessed with those singers from the short-lived rock group Extreme, and she’d fantasized about Luke Perry from Beverly Hills, 90210, but she’d never lost her heart to a man. Of course, the fact that her father had threatened every guy she ever dated with his life hadn’t helped matters.

  “It’s not that I don’t think it’s possible,” she said. “For other people,” she added. “I just get the impression I might have better odds on a slot machine in Vegas.”

  “Lucky with the slots?” he asked, his dark eyes amu
sed. Something about his easy manner quieted her, made her feel less frantic.

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “Ever thought you might just need some time to figure out what you want for yourself, let alone in a man?” he asked.

  Lori didn’t want to go there. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility. “Due to my dearly departed father, I don’t have the luxury of time right now.” She sighed. “I know I want to make this money work for good, and I don’t want to wait.”

  He nodded and handed her the folder. “We’re back to square one. Here are your first two prospects. I’ll have more by the end of the week.”

  “Thanks.”

  He paused a moment. “Don’t drink too much champagne.”

  She smiled. She supposed she’d earned his cautionary comment, since he’d witnessed the worst hangover of her life. “I won’t. One glass, two Oreos, and as many letters as I can read.”

  “Aren’t those letters depressing?”

  Lori laughed. “Depressing letters from Sunny Collins?” She shook her head. “My momma was a firecracker.”

  He narrowed his eyes in speculation.

  She couldn’t resist prodding him. “What? What are you thinking?”

  “Maybe that firecracker gene is hereditary, and maybe your daddy was scared to death of it.”

  “Maybe,” she said, remembering her father’s overly protective ways. She’d spent so much of her life not wanting to hurt him that she’d resisted any urge to rebel, with the exception of visiting her sisters and brother once they’d reunited several years ago.

  He glanced at the folder. “Those guys have no idea what they’re in for. Be gentle with them.”

  Impatience hissed through her. “There’s nothing to worry about. I was raised well. I’ve always been described as well-mannered and polite.”

  “That was when Harlan was watching every step you took. Now that you have the opportunity, you may want to-” He paused as if he was searching for the right word and dropped his hand to rest on his hip. “Experiment.”

  Distracted by his large hand on his lean hip, she felt herself grow warmer. She dragged her gaze up from his hips, taking in his muscular chest. She’d bet he looked great without a shirt on. She bit her lip in surprise at herself. Her sex switch had been turned to the permanently off position so long, she’d begun to wonder if she was abnormal. And now she was getting turned on by her accountant? How wack was that?