The Marriage Conspiracy Page 6

  “Right.”

  “The kidnapped baby who was Jonas’s brother?”

  Dekker was nodding at her. “Jonas said he believed that I had been kidnapped by ‘our’ uncle, Blake Bravo, for revenge against Blake’s own brother, Jonas’s father.”

  “Revenge? Why?”

  “That’s a whole other story. Evidently, Blake was a real shady character, had been disinherited. He blamed his brother for it. So he came up with this scheme to kidnap his younger nephew and hold the baby for ransom. He had an accomplice, according to Jonas.”

  “Not…Lorraine?”

  “Yes. Lorraine.”

  Joleen had that feeling again, the one she’d had in her father’s study when Robert Atwood had told her he would take her child from her: that feeling of stark unreality—the absolute certainty this couldn’t be real. “This is crazy. Lorraine was your mother. We all know that.”

  “Not according to Jonas Bravo. He told me that the woman I’d always believed to be my mother had helped Blake Bravo kidnap me. That Blake had demanded—and got—two million dollars worth of diamonds as a ransom.”

  “Two million? Whoa. The Bravos must have had plenty of money.”

  “They did. And they still do. Jonas manages the Bravo holdings. He’s an excellent businessman. They call him the Bravo Billionaire.”

  Joleen took another swallow of ice water. “They?”

  “The newspapers, the scandal sheets. Bravo is an important name in Los Angeles.” Dekker was watching her. He waited till she set her glass down again before he said, “So Blake got the diamonds—but he never returned the baby he had kidnapped. He and Lorraine disappeared, along with that baby, never to be seen or heard from again.”

  “The baby that was…you?” It all seemed so incredible.

  “Right. That’s what Jonas claimed.”

  “And you denied it.”

  “Yes. I said it wasn’t true and I asked him and Emma to leave. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the things that he’d said. I remembered my mother’s diary.”

  This was more news to Joleen. “Lorraine left a diary?”

  “Yes. She asked me not to read it until she was gone. I put it away. And I never read it. I guess I just didn’t want to deal with what I would find in there. But after Jonas and his wife paid me that visit, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I dug it out of her things.”

  “And?”

  “It contained her confession. She verified everything Jonas had told me. That she helped kidnap me as a baby and that she—well, she decided she wanted to keep me. She couldn’t have kids of her own. She wrote that, from the moment she lifted me out of my crib, the night that they took me from the Bravo mansion, she knew she would never give me up. In the end, after several months of moving around, living under various aliases, Blake set her up with a new identity. And a house.”

  “The house…next door?”

  “You got it.”

  “So that means Jonas Bravo…”

  “Is my brother.”

  “And you took off for L.A. on Wednesday because—”

  “As soon as I read what Lorraine wrote, I felt I had to go looking for him, to tell him what I’d found.”

  “Oh, Dekker.” She reached across the distance between them and brushed his arm with her fingertips. “I’ll bet you couldn’t get there fast enough.”

  His white teeth flashed in the darkness as he gave her a smile. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “I do. I just…well, I can hardly believe it. You have a brother….” Which was wonderful, really. Finding out he had more family, to Joleen’s mind, would be nothing but good for Dekker.

  The part about Lorraine, though. That was just terrible. And so hard to accept.

  Lorraine Smith had been a quiet woman, and a little bit shy, a person who tended to fade into the background in a crowd. Joleen had always thought of her as gentle. And good at heart.

  Incredible, Joleen thought. Impossible.

  Lorraine was not Dekker’s mama, after all. Lorraine was a kidnapper, and Dekker was the baby that she stole.

  She said, “I do wish you’d explained all this earlier. I got pretty worried. I thought all kinds of things, that you might be in danger…”

  “I wasn’t in danger. I just couldn’t talk about it. Not then, when I first found out.”

  “I am not blaming you, Dekker. You did what you had to do. And that was to contact your brother and to share with him what you found.”

  “Which brings us around to the situation with Robert Atwood.”

  The quick shift in subject surprised her. For a few minutes there, with all this shocking news Dekker was laying on her, she’d actually forgotten Bobby’s father and the threat he presented to Sam. “Wait a minute. What does your being Jonas Bravo’s brother have to do with Robert Atwood?”

  “Remember earlier I told you that money would be no problem?”

  “Oh, Dekker, don’t start with that again. I appreciate your offerin’ to help out that way. It means so much that you would, but I told you, I cannot allow you to—”

  “Jo, I’m a rich man now.”

  Her mouth was open, since he’d cut her off in the middle of a sentence. She shut it, then opened it again to say, “Huh?”

  “The Bravos never gave up on the idea that I might be alive somewhere. Arrangements were made for me, a huge trust set aside, just in case I might someday show up again.”

  His words made her head spin. “Arrangements…a huge trust?”

  “Right. What I’m trying to say is, I have millions, Joleen.”

  There was that word again. Millions. Millions in diamonds. And also…“Millions of dollars?”

  “What else?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I can’t…Dekker, are you serious? You are a millionaire?”

  “I am serious, Jo. I am a millionaire.” He was grinning again.

  “Well. I can’t…I don’t…”

  He chuckled. “You are sputtering.”

  “It’s just…so much to take in all at once. Oh, what a crazy day it has been.”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  She peered at him suspiciously. “There’s more?”

  “You bet. There’s my solution to your problem.”

  That made her smile. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That you had come up with a way to get me out of this mess.”

  “And I have. It came to me a few hours ago, while we were dancing. Like a bolt right out of the blue. You’re going to think it’s insane at first. But give me a chance, let me convince you.”

  “Dekker. What? Convince me of what?”

  “I want you to marry me, Jo.”

  Chapter 5

  Joleen discovered that she understood the true meaning of the words, struck speechless.

  Dekker chuckled again.

  And Joleen found she could talk, after all. “It’s a joke, right? You are makin’ a joke.”

  “It’s no joke, Jo.”

  “Well, but you are grinnin’. And what was that sound I just heard coming out of your mouth? If that wasn’t a laugh, I will eat that bouquet my sister made me catch tonight.”

  “Sorry.” He took pains to arrange his expression into more serious lines. “I couldn’t help it. You should have seen the look on your face. Like that time when you were…oh, about eight, I think. And that kid from up the block poured crushed ice down your pants.”

  Joleen was thinking that sometimes she wished she hadn’t known Dekker all her life. He remembered too many things she would just as soon forget.

  He asked, “What was that kid’s name?”

  “Foster Stutterheim. I hated him.”

  “I think he had a thing for you.”

  “Well, and didn’t he have a fine way of showing it?”

  “He got your attention. You have to admit that.”

  “That’s right, he did. I never spoke to him again.”

  “You were always way too hard on y
our admirers.”

  She thought of her one big mistake. “Not always.”

  Dekker’s eyes gleamed at her. “Well, okay. There was Bobby Atwood.”

  “And I was not hard on him, and look where it got me.”

  He made a low noise in his throat. “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t start beating yourself up again.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good. We’re dealing in solutions here.”

  “Right—and I still don’t believe what you said a minute ago. Maybe you didn’t say it. Maybe I just imagined it.”

  “I said it. And I want you to consider it.”

  “But Dekker, why? I mean, what good would our getting married do?”

  “A lot. Remember, this is about appearances. About how things look. And it always looks better if a woman is not raising her child on her own. It looks better if she’s married—and don’t start making faces. I didn’t say it was fair. I didn’t say it was right. I didn’t even say it was true that a married woman will necessarily be a better parent than an unmarried one. I’m just saying that people—and judges are people—tend to think of a two-parent home as the best thing for a kid.”

  “Well, I understand that, but—”

  “Wait. I said I wanted a chance to convince you, remember?”

  She nodded.

  “Then will you let me finish doing that?”

  “Sorry.”

  He continued, “I’m a rich man now. And if we’re married, you’re not going to be giving me any of that ‘I can’t take your money’ talk. My money will be your money. One of Robert Atwood’s arguments will be that he can provide for his grandson better than you can. If you’re married to me, that argument is shot down.”

  “But, Dekker—”

  He stopped her with a look. “I also want you to consider what’s been bothering you the most. Which is how you’re going to afford both good child care and the legal battle that’s coming up. If you marry me, the cost of all that will be no problem. You can hire the best damn lawyers, and you’ll be able to pay for top quality child care. Hell, if you want to stop working altogether, be there full-time for Sam, you could do that, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. You know me. I like to work.”

  “Does that mean I’ve convinced you?”

  She wasn’t ready to admit that yet. “I only said I like to work.”

  “So fine. Work. And put Sam in the best day care center in the city.”

  She had to admit that his arguments made sense.

  But there were a few issues he hadn’t covered—awkward, uncomfortable issues. Issues she felt a little bit embarrassed to bring up, even with her very best friend.

  But still, they were issues that needed discussing before they did anything so wild and strange as to marry each other in order to keep Robert Atwood from taking her child.

  “Say it,” he said after a few very long minutes in which neither of them had made a sound. “Whatever it is, we can’t deal with it if you won’t get it out there.”

  She scrunched up her nose at him. “Well, I know that.”

  “Okay, then. Talk.”

  “It’s just…”

  “What?”

  She stared at him, struck by the tone of his voice. He sounded…so excited about this. In the soft glow of starlight he looked eager and intent, his eyes focused hard on her, watching her so closely.

  Such earnestness surprised her.

  Most of the time it was hard to know what Dekker Smith was feeling. It wasn’t that he hid his emotions, exactly. Just that he guarded them. He kept them in check. He could be warm and funny and gentle and kind. But most of the time he made it seem as though nothing was life-or-death to him. As if he could turn and walk away from anything, that there was nothing—and no one—he really needed to get by.

  Of course, she had learned a few years ago how deep his feelings actually went. It had almost killed him when Stacey died.

  But still, he didn’t make a habit of letting what was going on inside him show.

  Not so right now.

  Now he did seem eager. And earnest. And excited. Three words that, until that moment, she would never have used to describe Dekker Smith.

  “Jo.” His voice was gruff. “What is it? Damn it, talk to me.”

  She made herself say it. “It’s just that, while I do love you and I know that you love me, it is not a man-and-woman kind of love. I guess I’m saying, what about love, Dekker? And, well, what about sex?”

  He sent her a look of great patience. “Let’s tackle one insurmountable obstacle at a time, all right?”

  “Please don’t make light. I think this is important.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

  “But you—”

  “I only meant that we’ll work it out. Day by day, as we go along.”

  “Well, Dekker, I’m sorry. But I just can’t.”

  “You can’t take it day by day?”

  “No, I mean I wouldn’t feel right unless we came to some kind of understanding about what we’re going to do when it comes to…the things that men and women do—and why are you looking at me like you find me amusing?”

  “Because I do find you amusing—in a good way.”

  “Oh. In a good way, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s supposed to make it all right that you are laughin’ at me?”

  “I am not laughing at you.”

  She made a humphing sound. “Well, I don’t care. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not going to stop me from talkin’ about this. Sex is a problem, and we have to face it.”

  “I disagree. Sex is not a problem. Not right now, anyway, not unless you insist on making it a problem.”

  “But…well, I mean, that’s just not us, it’s not what we are together. We are deep and true friends. But we are not lovers.”

  “Right. So?”

  “Well, even if we didn’t sleep together, if I was married to you, I would be true to you. And I would really hate it if you were not true to me. Marriage, even a marriage for practical reasons, is still a sacred trust, Dekker. A trust that should be respected and…” She could see that he was only waiting for his turn to talk. Fine. “What?” she demanded. “Say it. Go ahead.”

  “I would be true to you.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what if you—”

  “Don’t start in with the thousand and one possible reasons I might have for wanting to sleep around. I don’t need to hear them. I said, I’ll be true to you, even though we’re not lovers.”

  “But what happens when—”

  He cut her off, his voice low. “Fact is, it’s just not that important to me.”

  She felt her cheeks warming. “It’s not?”

  “Right. It’s not.”

  Maybe she had misunderstood him. “You mean, uh, you’re telling me that sex is not that important to you?”

  “Sex. Love—what you call man-and-woman love, anyway. When it comes to that, well, I’m pretty much dead meat.”

  Dead meat. How sad. Joleen had known that what had happened with Stacey had scarred her friend in a deep way. But she’d been telling herself he was slowly getting over the pain of that time.

  Not so, evidently.

  He went on. “I’d rather be with you than with a lover anyday. And I never planned to marry again—at least not until I thought of marrying you tonight. I’ve got to tell you, Jo. I like this idea. A marriage to you sounds damn good to me. Hell. To be legally a part of the family—of your family, and Sam’s—sounds pretty terrific, as a matter of fact. Until you brought it up, I didn’t even think of the sex issue. It didn’t seem important. I guess I had some idea that, since Bobby Atwood did a number on you, you felt more or less the same way I do about love and romance and everything that goes with it.”

  Joleen found herself wondering, did she feel the same way—emotional dead meat when it came to man-
woman love?

  Well…

  Not really.

  “Oh, Dekker…”

  He was sitting very still. “I’m listening.”

  She strove for just the right words. “I, well, I can see how you would think I don’t want anything to do with love. The family drives me crazy, always after me to find someone, always telling me my turn for true love is comin’ right up. Lately it seems like every wedding I go to, I’m the one who gets the bride’s bouquet tossed in her face.”

  “They do it because they want the best for you,” he reminded her gently.

  “I know they do. I know all their hearts are in the right places. But still, it aggravates me no end. It’s like the old saying goes. Once burned, twice shy. Bobby did burn me. Bad. I just don’t want a thing to do with it—with love and romance—not right now.”

  “But?”

  “Well, to you, Dekker, at this moment, because of the seriousness of what we are considering, I am willin’ to admit something.”

  “Do it.”

  “Even on the day that Bobby turned his back on me, even then, when I had to face the fact that I’d made a worse mistake in judgment than my mama and my sisters ever made. Even then, I knew deep in my heart that someday—maybe not for years and years—but someday I would try again.”

  He looked at her levelly. “Years and years, Jo. Do you hear yourself? You are talking about a long time.”

  “Maybe so. But still. Someday, I can’t help but hope, I will find love—and I mean the real and lastin’ kind.”

  “Too bad you need a husband right now. A husband with a fat wallet, a husband you can count on.”

  “Well, okay. You may be right, but—”

  “Let me put it this way.” He leaned closer. They’d been talking quietly, but right then, he lowered his voice even more, as if they were a pair of conspirators, as if he were about to suggest the most dangerous conspiracy of all. “You could marry me now. We could deal with the Atwoods together, present a united front. And eventually, once the Atwoods are no longer a threat to you and Sam, if you feel you’ve got to have more than I can give you, well then, we’ll end it.”

  She hated to say the ugly word, but it did require saying. “Divorce, you mean?”

  He nodded.

  She found herself leaning toward him as he leaned toward her. “So. We could marry…” She was whispering, too, keeping her voice way down low so that only he could hear, though it was nearing two in the morning and they were alone in her mother’s dark backyard. “We could marry and live together and be just what we are—friends, and that’s all. But we’d also stay true, to each other. Respect our vows. And then, if the time comes when one of us wants more than the other can give, we would get ourselves a divorce.”