Marriage By Necessity Read online

  “Meggie. You didn’t go and save yourself, now, did you?” Nate softly accused.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Christine Rimmer

  CHRISTINE RIMMER

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright

  “Meggie. You didn’t go and save yourself, now, did you?” Nate softly accused.

  Megan’s throat clamped tight. Her face flaming, she couldn’t speak.

  Nate Bravo was her most precious, hopeless fantasy. And he was here with her tonight. Because she had begged him to help her make a baby. And, in the end, he had been unable to refuse her need.

  In twenty years Nate had never made any promises to her. He had always been honest. Brutally so. So Megan had thought she would never lie down with him. Because she wanted forever. And Nate wanted to be free.

  Yet here they were. On their wedding night. One moment in time that would never last and never come again.

  “Meggie?” Nate prompted.

  As she stared at her new husband’s sculpted chest, she attempted a quavering smile.

  “Hell, Meggie...” Nate whispered.

  Dear Reader,

  Spring is in the air! It’s the perfect time to pick wildflowers, frolic outdoors...and fall in love. And this March, Special Edition has an array of love stories that set the stage for romance!

  Bestselling author Victoria Pade delivers an extra-special THAT SPECIAL WOMAN! title. The latest installment in her popular A RANCHING FAMILY series, Cowbay’s Love is about a heroine who passionately reunites with the rugged rancher she left behind. Don’t miss this warm and wonderful tale about love lost—and found again.

  Romantic adventure is back in full force this month when the MONTANA MAVERICKS: RETURN TO WHITEHORN series continues with Wife Most Wanted by Joan Elliott Pickart—a spirited saga about a wanted woman who unwittingly falls for the town’s sexiest lawman! And don’t miss Marriage by Necessity, the second book in Christine Rimmer’s engaging CONVENIENTLY YOURS miniseries.

  Helen R. Myers brings us Beloved Mercenary, a poignant story about a gruff, brooding hero who finds new purpose when a precious little girl—and her beautiful mother—transform his life. And a jaded businessman gets much more than he bargained for when he conveniently marries his devoted assistant in Texan’s Bride by Gail Link. Finally this month, to set an example for his shy teenage son, a confirmed loner enters into a “safe” relationship with a pretty stranger in The Rancher Meets His Match by Patricia McLinn.

  I hope you enjoy this book, and each and every story to come!

  Sincerely,

  Tara Gavin

  Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  CHRISTINE RIMMER

  MARRIAGE BY NECESSITY

  For Susan Crosby,

  the best kind of friend,

  one who inspires, instructs

  and makes me laugh.

  Books by Christine Rimmer

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Double Dore #646

  Slow Larkin’s Revenge #698

  Earth Angel #719

  *Wagered Woman #794

  Bom Innocent #833

  *Man of the Mountain #886

  *Sweetbriar Summit #896

  *A Home for the Hunter #908

  For the Baby’s Sake #925

  *Sunshine and the

  Shadowmaster #979

  *The Man, The Moon and

  The Marriage Vow #1010

  *No Less Than a Lifetime #1040

  *Honeymoon Hotline #1063

  †The Nine-Month Marriage #1148

  †Marriage by Necessity #1161

  *The Jones Gang

  †Conveniently Yours

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  No Turning Back #418

  Call It Fate #458

  Temporary Temptress #602

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  The Midnight Rider

  Takes a Bride #1101

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  CHRISTINE RIMMER

  came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been an actress, a sales clerk, a janitor, a model, a phone sales representative, a teacher, a waitress, a playwright and an office manager. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Those who know her best withhold comment when she makes such claims; they are grateful that she’s at last found steady work. Christine is grateful, too—not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma.

  Chapter One

  In the pool area of the Hollywood Paradise Hotel, palm fronds swayed softly in a balmy summer breeze—a breeze only minimally tainted with smog. Tourists laughed and splashed in the pool. Gorgeous men and women lay on chaise lounges, dressed in skimpy swimwear and soaking up rays. Not far from the pool, at the Tropicana Poolside Bar, men in business suits enjoyed the shade and took their whiskey or vodka over ice. Meanwhile, at a table closer to the pool, a group of gray-haired ladies in bright-colored caftans drank strawberry daiquiris and argued over whether or not they had time to visit Universal Studios that day.

  Four floors above the fun, a glass door stood open on a small balcony. In the room beyond the door, Megan May Kane lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling fan that turned slowly overhead. Megan sighed. She hardly heard the happy laughter from below. Her lips moved. She was praying silently for the phone to ring.

  When it did, she sat straight up and cried out, “Oh!”

  It rang again. Megan put a hand to her heart and made herself take three deep, slow breaths. She told herself that she would be calm. Still, her hand shook when she reached for the receiver.

  “H-hello?”

  “Meggie?” The deep voice came out of her past, out of her dreams, out of her future as she had once dared to imagine it might be.

  Her foolish heart soared. He had found her message on that machine of his. And he had actually called back.

  “Meggie, are you there?”

  “Uh, yes.” She gulped, paused, breathed slowly. In. And then out. “Yes, Nate. I’m here.”

  “What the hell are you doing in L.A.?”

  “I’m...” How to explain this, how to even begin? A hot jolt of anger pulsed through her—fury at her dead father.

  “Meggie, are you all right?”

  She steeled herself, ordered the pointless rage away. “Yes. I’m all right. And I, um, I really need to see you. Right away.”

  There was a pause, a pure agony for Meggie. Then at last he asked warily, “See me about what?”

  Megg
ie realized that her face was flaming. She laid her hand on her cheek in an attempt to cool the heat. It had been over a decade since that steamy Fourth of July night when she had thrown herself at him. She’d hardly spoken to him since. Still, she knew he must be wondering if she’d decided to try again—which, in a crazy way, was exactly the case.

  “Look,” she said, “I’d really prefer just to explain everything when I see you.”

  Another nerve-flaying silence occurred.

  “Nate?” she asked faintly, fearing he might have hung up.

  At last he spoke. “All right. One hour.”

  She felt breathless. She gulped in air. “Where?”

  “The lobby.”

  “The lobby of what?”

  “Your hotel.”

  Her hotel. That made sense. “All right, the lobby,” she agreed. “Do you need the address?”

  “I think I can find it,” he said dryly.

  “Well. All right.” She confirmed the time. “In an hour then?” She got no reply. He’d already hung up.

  Nate Bravo stood behind the ancient metal desk in his “office,” which was really only a spare room in his apartment. His hand rested on the phone he’d just set down. He stared off toward the green bamboo blinds that covered the window. The blinds were rolled halfway up. Through the bottom half of the window, he could see the white stucco wall of the building next door. A hibiscus bush, blooming in lush explosions of coral pink, grew against that wall. A splash of sunlight made the green leaves shine and the white wall gleam. A pretty sight.

  But Nate stared blindly, not really seeing the bright tropical flowers. His mind was filled with Meggie May Kane.

  He could see her as if she stood before him, in Wranglers and a plaid shirt, her skeins of shining dark hair coming loose from under her hat, those big amber eyes staring at him with yearning—and a strange, defiant pride.

  When he thought of Meggie May, he thought of contradictions. Of strength and innocence. Toughness and purity.

  He was probably a damn fool to meet with her. What he wanted and what she wanted were worlds—universes—apart.

  But then again, she’d sounded pretty upset. Just maybe she needed the kind of help he could provide: someone found. Or someone followed. He could do something like that for her. And he would. Willingly.

  He found her sitting in a studded leather missionstyle chair, wearing a sundress and sandals. Except for those strong, work-toughened hands gripping the chair arms, no one would have guessed that she was a woman who had pulled, cut and branded more than her share of calves. Her big eyes looked up at him, as pure and innocent as ever.

  “Thank you. For coming.” She stood and held out one of those calloused hands. He took it and they shook, awkward and formal. Then she cast a quick, uncomfortable glance around the lobby, with its Moorish arches, red-tiled floor and Persian rugs. A family sat in a group of leather chairs to their left, all dressed up for playing tourists, in shorts and sun visors, armed with cameras and binoculars. To their right, a man sat alone, reading the Sunday Times. And not far away, on a studded leather sofa, slouched four refugees from the punk scene, complete with safety pins in their ears and hair that went from Day-glo green to fluorescent purple. No one looked the least bit interested in the pretty woman in the sundress and the man who’d just shaken her hand.

  Still, Meggie suggested, “Could we go on up to my room, do you think? Somewhere we could talk alone?”

  Nate almost said no, since she had yet to tell him what the hell this was about. But then he scoffed at himself. What could Meggie May Kane do to him alone in her room that he couldn’t handle?

  They took the elevator up. In the enclosed space, Nate found himself overly conscious of her. Of her slightly woodsy perfume and those unwavering eyes, of the high roundness of her breasts beneath that pretty little dress. He had always found her physically attractive—which was why, from the time she started to fill out, he’d done his best to keep clear of her. A woman like Meggie, so rooted to the land, could never be anything but trouble to a man like him.

  And really, by now, she should represent little to no threat to his peace of mind. All logic declared that physical attraction faded over time. Yet somehow, she still drew him. Now, in her early thirties, she seemed even more attractive than she had been in her teens. There was a lushness to her now, a ripeness she hadn’t possessed before.

  The elevator slid to a stop. The doors opened. She led the way down the hall to her room.

  Once inside, she set her small purse on the round table in the corner, near a glass door that led out to a balcony. She gestured. “Have a seat.” He walked past the end of the bed and dropped into the chair she’d offered. She indicated the small liquor cabinet not far away. “Can I get you something?”

  “Why not? Jack Daniels. And ice.”

  He watched her as she got the key, unlocked the cabinet and took out the miniature bottle. The ice bucket was empty. She held it up. “I’ll be right back.”

  He let her get to the door before he stopped her. “Never mind. I’ll take it straight.”

  “Are you sure? It won’t take a minute to get the ice.”

  “Straight is fine.”

  She returned to the small mirrored bar area over the liquor cabinet and poured him the drink. He nodded his thanks when she handed it to him, then lifted the glass and sipped, watching her over the rim as he did.

  She stood unmoving for a moment, managing somehow to look both nervous and thoroughly self-possessed. She eyed the other chair, but must have decided against sitting in it, because she backed up until her knees hit the edge of the bed. She scooped the back of her dress smooth, then sat.

  They regarded each other. In the silence, he became more aware of the noises from outside, of people laughing and talking from the pool area below the balcony, of a helicopter in the distance somewhere and the faroff scream of a siren. Just another day in paradise, he thought with some irony.

  He glanced over at the balcony door. “You shouldn’t leave that open. This isn’t Medicine Creek.” Medicine Creek was the small Wyoming town where they’d both gone to high school. Meggie still lived on a ranch not far from there. “In LA. the burglars tend to be fast and agile.”

  “I’ll close it next time I leave the room.”

  “And at night.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Exasperation rippled through him—at himself for giving a damn whether she left her balcony door open or not. And at her, for smelling so good and looking so good. For the power of the attraction that still existed, against all logic, between them.

  He sipped again from his drink, then set it on the table and stared at the small amount of amber liquid in the bottom of the glass. “What do you want from me, Meggie?”

  He heard her shift on the bed. “My father died. A week ago today. Did you know?”

  Nate shook his head. He still had family in Medicine Creek. But it had been a month or two since he’d talked to any of them. “I hadn’t heard.”

  Meggie’s hands gripped the edge of the bed, on either side of her thighs. She stared down at her own knees. “It was cancer. But he would never let Doc Pruitt look at him. He just got thinner and thinner. And then, for a few weeks, he got really sick. And then he died.”

  Nate reached for the drink again. “I’m sorry.” He offered the bland condolence, not knowing what the hell else to say. He drank. Then, with finality, he set the glass down. He looked at her, waiting.

  She coughed, as if her throat had gone tight on her. “This is hard.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Um, well, it was just assumed that he’d leave me the Double-K.”

  Alarm had him sitting up a little straighter. “You mean he didn’t?”

  “No, he did. Sort of. With a couple of conditions.”

  “What conditions?”

  With a small sigh, she rose, went to the closet nook and took some papers from her suitcase, which stood open on the rack belo
w the hangers. Looking solemn, she returned to him.

  Reluctantly, he took the papers from her hand.

  “That’s my father’s will.” She moved over so she stood beside him. The woodsy smell of her taunted him as she pointed at the page on top. “Read from there.”

  He stared down at all the legal mumbo jumbo. “Look. Why don’t you just explain it to me?”

  He set the papers on the table by his empty glass.

  She sighed again. “All right.” She returned to the end of the bed, where she sat once more. For a moment, he felt some relief, because the scent of her faded a little with the distance. But the relief didn’t last long.

  “My father’s been after me for years now to get married and give him some grandchildren. But I just never met the right guy.” She paused. Her gaze slid away, then defiantly met his once more. “I mean, I didn’t love any of the ones who asked. So I turned them down. And, well, it looks like my father decided to make sure I’d get a husband and some kids—from beyond the grave, if you know what I mean.”

  Nate did know what she meant—or at least he caught the general drift. And that made him long to bolt from the chair and head for the door.

  But he hadn’t heard her out yet. It seemed only right to give her that much. Somehow, he made himself sit still for the rest.

  Meggie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Then she rested her hands on her knees. “This is the situation. According to my father’s will, the ranch will be kept in trust, with me as the legal operator, for a period of two years. During that time, I am required to bear a child as a result of a lawful marriage.”

  His urge to get the hell out intensified. It was just as he’d feared. He asked, “And if you don’t?”

  “Then the Double-K will become public land.”