Julianna Morris - Just Between Friends

Yet when Kate opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering about what might have been. It was hard enough having spent her entire adult life pining after a man who thought she was still a kid. So instead of saying anything, she bit into a second slice of pizza.

She wanted to be like Great-Grandfather Rycroft Douglas, who threw his hat in the wind and dug for gold in the land of the midnight sun. That’s where she wanted to spend her honeymoon, in Alaska, celebrating the rebellious spirit she’d inherited from him.

All at once the corners of Kate’s mouth turned down. If she married Dylan—and it was a big if—there wouldn’t be a real honeymoon. Darn it all. She didn’t know whether to be angry about the conditions in Nanna Jane’s will or grateful for the opportunity.

“What’s wrong, Katydid?” Dylan asked quietly. “Are you thinking about your grandmother’s will?”

Her startled gaze flew to his. “How did you…?”

“I can tell you’re unhappy about something, and that’s the most obvious cause.”

Well, she had been thinking about the will in connection to Dylan and what the future might bring. Her spirits lifted. He’d sensed she was unhappy. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was better than nothing.

Kate shrugged and drank the last of her milk. “I’m all right,” she said noncommittally. She knew enough about Dylan to know she couldn’t push.

He reached across the table and drew his thumb across her upper lip. Heat rose in her cheeks both from his touch and the realization that she’d left a thin line of milk on her mouth. Lord, what her grandmother would have said about such unladylike impropriety. Kate didn’t care about the impropriety, but she hated looking ridiculous. Yet Dylan’s dark eyes were curiously warm.

“Dylan?” she whispered.

For a long moment he just stared at her lips. The breath caught in her throat and a tingling sensation crept across her nerves. Was he thinking about kissing her, or just wondering what it would be like? She’d only thought about it a few thousand times, but who was counting?

“I…I’ve been thinking about what you said…suggested this afternoon,” he muttered. “If we do it, we’ll need to sign a prenuptial agreement. It should be clear when we end things that we each keep what we owned before the marriage. Your grandmother’s lawyers can draft the thing—they’ll probably insist on it, anyway.”

The hope cascading through Kate came to a crashing halt.

A prenuptial agreement?

That’s what he’d been thinking about?

“You think I’d try to take part of your business?” she gasped. “How could you even begin to think such a thing? I don’t want a penny of your money. That’s absolutely the most ridiculous, unbeliev—”

“Whoa.” Dylan clamped his hand over her mouth. “Dammit, that isn’t what I meant. Your grandmother’s property alone must be worth more than my construction business, not to mention your trust fund and everything else. I’d just want to make it clear that I’m not interested in your family fortune.”

Annoyed, Kate nipped the callused palm of his hand with her teeth. He yanked his hand away with a low growl.

“So you want to save your pride with a pre-nup,” she snapped. “Announce to the whole wide world that you don’t think our marriage will last. Shall we publish the details in the Seattle Times classifieds, or do you think a simple announcement to our friends and families will be enough?”

Frustrated, Dylan ran his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage, so what does it matter what everyone thinks?”

She gave him a baleful look.

If Dylan didn’t already know what mattered, he probably wouldn’t ever know. It wasn’t just wounded pride—though her pride was already plenty wounded—it was something more fundamental. Dylan was her best friend; she trusted him in ways she’d never trusted anyone. She didn’t want a prenuptial agreement because legal agreements were for people who didn’t trust each other.

Unfortunately, she needed a reason that a pragmatist like Dylan O’Rourke would accept.

“It has to look like a real marriage,” she said. “Or the lawyers will make trouble. A pre-nup might seem suspicious.”

Dylan frowned. “Won’t they want to protect you just in case? At the very least your father will insist on me signing something. I don’t think he likes me that much.”

A pang went through Kate. Her father wasn’t the protective type—sometimes she wondered if he remembered her name.

“I doubt it,” she said dryly. “Father and Mother are in Europe for a few months. I doubt they’ll even come back for the wedding.”

“Katy—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kate said hastily, not wanting Dylan to feel sorry for her. “But you should know that Grandmamma’s will says we have to live on the property for a year as husband and wife.” It was the truth, and she was quite certain her grandmother’s snooty lawyers would scrutinize the situation like a gaggle of gossiping old biddies.

“You mean we have to live in that mausoleum?” Dylan groaned.

Kate’s heart jumped because it sounded as if he’d decided to help her. “The will just says we have to live on the property, so I thought we’d stay here in my place.”

“Here?”

“It seems easiest, especially since the big house needs a huge amount of work to be comfortable,” she said, trying to sound practical. Dylan was the kind of man who’d want a practical wife, and she had every intention of being the best wife in the world. “We’ll just be housemates. Of course, everyone has to believe it’s a real marriage,” she added hastily.

He glanced around her kitchen with an unreadable expression. “Your place is a little small,” he murmured.

Well, duh.

The last thing Kate wanted was to move into Nanna Jane’s mansion with its dozens of cold rooms and echoing space. She wanted them to live in a place where Dylan couldn’t avoid her, no matter how hard he tried.

It wasn’t as if she was being terribly deceitful, or anything. If he really thought about it, he’d realize how she’d been in love with him forever. And if he still didn’t feel the same about her after being married for a year, she’d agree to an uncontested divorce.

But Dylan was still looking thoughtful, so she pushed aside the possibility of failure and leaned forward. “What’s wrong with my place? It’s not that small and your company did the work to modernize it, so you know it’s in good condition.”

“Hmm…yes.” He scratched the side of his face. “But this is a great old building and there’s a lot of room for expansion. You’ve talked about enlarging—so this would be a good time to get it done. I really think it’s best.”

Kate shrugged in defeat. “All right. Draw up the plans and send me the bill.” So much for a crowded living space pushing them together. The forced intimacy would have helped—now she’d have to think of something else.

Dylan looked scandalized. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s just like the last time.”

“Like hell. Husbands don’t charge their wives for work they do.”

Much as Kate enjoyed the oblique reference to being Dylan’s wife, she didn’t think it was right for him to work on the converted carriage house without getting paid.

“That isn’t fair,” she objected.

“Tough,” he said, still sounding offended. “You won’t change my mind on this, Katydid. As a matter of fact, you’ll have to get used to not getting your way on everything. I’m not spending the next year saying ‘yes’ to you.”

He set his jaw, looking so endearingly macho and stubborn that a quiver went through her stomach. There’d always been a core of strength and certainty in Dylan that fascinated her. He was like a giant boulder in the middle of a river that water had no choice but to flow around. No matter what he might say, she’d never been able to talk him into anything that he didn’t actually want to do.

“Do you understand, Katydid?” he said insistently.

Her chin rose. “I understand. I’m not as spoiled as you think, and that’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

The level note in Kate’s voice made Dylan’s eyes narrow. He had the uncomfortable feeling he’d missed something significant, but he didn’t know what. Hell, women were a complete mystery. If he didn’t comprehend his own sisters, what made him think a woman like Katrina Douglas would be any easier? She lived in an ivory tower, and he lived in the real world.

“I just…all right,” he said finally. “When do you want to…uh…?”

“Get married?”

The easy way she said “married” made him wince. At least it was only for a year, and he wouldn’t have to feel responsible for her getting hooked up with the wrong man. Anyway, taking care of Kate was such a habit he wasn’t sure how to stop.

“Yeah, married,” Dylan muttered.

“It needs to be before my birthday, that’s all.”

“Okay, the sooner we do it, the sooner it’ll be over with. We don’t have to do one of those big society weddings do we?” he asked. “Your grandmother didn’t make that a requirement, did she?”

“No, just that I get married and live with my husband on the Douglas estate.”

“I’m surprised she put something so specific in the will.”

“I’m not,” Kate said glumly. “Grandmamma might have been old, but she had a mind like a steel trap. She was probably suspicious that I’d try to get around the conditions of my inheritance.”

Dylan’s breath caught in his throat as Kate stretched slowly, arching her back like a silky little cat. She took her time, reaching her hands toward the ceiling, her body twisting sensuously. It was totally innocent, and totally devastating to his already shaky peace of mind.

When she lowered her arms again she smiled lazily. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well with so much to think about. It’ll be better tonight now that we’re getting things settled.”

Great.

She was going to sleep like a baby, and he was going home to a cold shower.

Gritting his teeth, Dylan ordered his body to stop behaving like a teenager with his first case of lust. This was Katydid, for heaven’s sake, he didn’t have any business getting stirred up over her. She’d asked for his help because she trusted him. Besides, it was temporary insanity. He’d get over it and then everything would be the same between them.

Ignoring the voice inside his brain that was laughing sarcastically, he leaned forward.

“How do you want to handle the ceremony?”

Kate drew a circle on the table with the tip of her finger. “How about going over to Victoria? Your brother’s wedding there was beautiful.”

A frown creased Dylan’s forehead. Victoria, British Columbia, was popular with courting couples, and the O’Rourke women had raved endlessly over what a romantic setting it had been for Kane and Beth’s wedding. But it didn’t seem right for him to marry Katydid in a place intended for lovers, not when they were just friends making a paper commitment for a year. It was much easier thinking about it that way—a paper commitment. Not really a marriage.

“I’d rather keep it smaller, here in Seattle,” he said after a moment. “Maybe just the two of us in a civil ceremony at the courthouse.”

Kate’s eyelids dropped instantly, yet he thought he saw disappointment in their sea-green depths before it was hidden. But surely she didn’t want a romantic wedding—or worse, a church wedding. There was something sacrilegious about going into a church and promising to love, honor and cherish when you were planning to get divorced in a year.