Marry Me, Major Read online

  Her astounded expression morphed into one of unholy amusement. Then something that looked a whole lot like chagrin.

  The amusement Ben could understand. The chagrin got him nervous all over again. Especially when she went back to peeling off strips of the wet label.

  One corner of his brain could hear Charley Pride’s “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’” above the clink of glasses and buzz of conversation. Another corner registered the fact that Swish and Dingo were keeping him under close surveillance. But the main cortex, the cerebrum or cerebellum or whatever the hell part processed danger signals, was flashing a red alert.

  “Back up a few steps,” he instructed. “Tell me what seven-year-old Maria has to do with you and me and Vegas.”

  “I want to adopt her.”

  “And?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. Manfully, Ben kept his eyes above the bling. Mostly.

  “Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a problem. Most states, including this one, allow single-parent adoption. But in Maria’s case, there are special circumstances that make it necessary for me to...ah...have a husband.”

  “Whoa!” He plunked his beer on the table. “I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  “As a matter of fact...” Those warm brown eyes cut through the cigarette haze to lock with his. “I came here to... I need to ask... Oh, hell. The thing is, I want you to marry me, Major.”

  Before he could recover enough to ask what the hell she was smoking, she tacked on a caveat.

  “Temporarily.”

  She was crazy. Certifiably nuts. He could’ve kicked himself when curiosity made him ask.

  “How temporary?”

  “Six months. Or less, depending on...well...circumstances. And I promise there’ll be no strings.” She rushed on. “No obligations on your part, financial or otherwise. Just your signature on a marriage certificate before you take off again for parts unknown.”

  “Look, lady, these ‘circumstances’ you keep referring to make me think that what you’re suggesting comes real close to fraud.”

  “It’s not fraud! I’ve discussed this with my attorney. He’s assured me what I’m doing is legal. And you don’t have to declare me your spouse or dependent or whatever the military term is. I promise, I won’t make any claim on you or the air force.”

  “Doesn’t matter whether you make a claim or not. If we’re married, we’re married. That entitles you to whatever privileges come with the ring.” He shoved back his chair. “Sorry, you’ll have to find another—”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “’Scuse me?”

  “Five thousand when you sign the wedding certificate, another five when we divorce.”

  Okay, now he was pissed. Ben almost started to blister her with a few well-chosen words about what she could do with her money but the sudden flash of desperation in her eyes had him biting back the words.

  “Please!” The table wobbled as she pushed to her feet and threw a quick glance around the noisy bar. “Can we go somewhere quieter? So I can explain these...these special circumstances? Five minutes,” she pleaded. “Please. Give me just another five minutes.”

  If Ben had a lick of sense he would’ve wished her a happy life and rejoined his buddies. Now that his anger had cooled, though, he wanted to hear what the hell was behind her crazy proposal.

  “My ride’s outside. We can talk there.”

  She started for the exit while Ben detoured to tell his friends that he was stepping out for a bit.

  “Riiight,” Dingo drawled. “Have fun.”

  “And find out where I can get one of those shirts,” Swish called after him.

  The hot desert night hit with a wallop after the air-conditioned bar. Ben shrugged it off as he caught up with Alexis.

  “I’m parked over here. Careful.”

  He took her elbow to steer her around a man-size pothole. A relic of the old Route 66 heyday, the Cactus Café had long passed its prime. Half the bulbs in the illuminated sign that gave the place its name had burned out. The rest shed only a flickering green glow over the pitted dirt lot.

  He beeped the locks on his muscled-up Chevy Tahoe and opened the passenger door for her. She had a long step up from the running board but Ben resisted the temptation to provide any help with a palm under her rear. Once behind the wheel, he keyed the ignition and lowered all four windows to let out the trapped air.

  “Okay,” he commented as he settled against his seat, “the clock’s ticking.”

  “My sister married a single dad with a young daughter. Janet—my sister—adored the girl. Then, last year, Janet was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer and I moved to Albuquerque to help take care of her. She died within six months of the initial diagnosis and I’ve had custody of her stepdaughter, Maria, since.”

  “Why did you get custody instead of the kid’s father?”

  “Because the scumbag walked out on Janet less than a week after she found out she had cancer. And he’s now in prison for dealing drugs.”

  She kept her voice flat and the words succinct, with no hint of the anguish Ben knew she had to have gone through.

  “I want to legally adopt Maria but her father won’t agree to the adoption.”

  “Why not?”

  “Spite. Pure and vicious and vengeful.” Her lip curled. “Before he got busted for drugs, I went after him for child support. He got hauled into court several times. That pissed him off so much he would cut off his own nose to spite me.”

  “He sounds like a real winner.”

  “A real loser, you mean.”

  She stared out the open window for a few moments, presenting a profile that showed a taut, angry jaw. When she faced Ben again, he had to admire her rigid self-control.

  “The court awarded me temporary custody. Since Maria and I aren’t related by blood, though, the judge refused to revoke her father’s parental rights and approve an adoption over his objections. Especially since I would be a single mom. Judge Hendricks,” she said with a twist of her lips, “doesn’t hold a high opinion of single, working women attempting to acquire a ready-made family.”

  “Which is where I come in,” Ben drawled, enlightened.

  “Right.” Her eyes were dark pools in the flickering light. “I don’t want a husband, but I need one. Temporarily.”

  “I guess I can see that. But why me, for God’s sake? We barely know each other. Surely you have better candidates to pick from.”

  “No, you’re perfect.”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “I must have performed better in Vegas than I remember.”

  The quip didn’t raise an answering laugh, and her total lack of response told him she really meant this absurd proposition.

  “I’ll admit the sex was pretty good...” she said with a shrug.

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay, extremely good. But I’m going to be up-front with you. Sex can’t play in any deal we work out. Our marriage has to be in name only. I can’t risk getting emotionally involved. Not with Maria to consider. And you don’t want any entanglements. You made that clear in Vegas.”

  Damn! He must’ve come on like a complete jerk. At least he hadn’t lied to her. Still, her blunt assertion that all he’d been interested in was getting her horizontal hit too close to the mark.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he countered drily, “but sex was the only thing we had in common in Vegas. With that off the table, I’m having a little trouble seeing why you think I’m the perfect choice.”

  “Because you’re military. That’s a plus in this city. With such a large percentage of the population either working on or associated with the base, Albuquerque is nothing if not pro military. A husband in uniform has got to play in my favor with the judge.”

  She hunched sideways, her shoulder wedged against the door a
nd her face dead serious in the dim light.

  “As an added bonus, you’re Special Ops. That means you’re gone more than you’re home. Your absence is a built-in excuse if the court orders an unscheduled home visit and finds no husband in residence.”

  “Convenient,” he drawled.

  “Yes, it is.” She must have sensed she hadn’t convinced him. Her voice took on an urgent note. “I won’t make any demands on you, Kincaid, or tie you down. I promise! And you’ll be helping a little girl who’s lost almost her entire world.”

  Still Ben hesitated. The scheme edged too close to fraud in his mind. He was tossing possible legal ramifications around in his mind when she fumbled her phone out of the little purse slung over one shoulder.

  “Here.” She opened the phone and jabbed the photo icon. “This is Maria.”

  The lit screen displayed a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl with an impish smile and a doll cuddled up to her cheek.

  “She’s a great kid. And really smart. She downloads a new book from the library every week. And...” She broke off, her voice thickening. “She helps in my business. I use her to model my line of kids’ clothing.”

  When she feathered a finger over the sparkly red heart on the girl’s T-shirt, Ben caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and scrolled to another photo.

  “This is my sister, after her loving husband lit into her about the mounting medical bills.”

  The face in this photo was older, painfully gaunt, and sporting a vicious black eye.

  “That slime is capable of doing the same—or worse—to his daughter,” Alex said, her voice low and vibrating. “Which is why I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep him away from her.”

  She clicked the phone off, shoved it in her purse and locked her gaze on Ben’s face. “So will you? Marry me?”

  She’d played him. Ben knew it. She’d shown him those pictures, hoping they would kick his protective instincts into high gear. Counting on it!

  No matter. The ends in this case appeared to justify the means.

  “Yeah, I will.”

  She blew out a long breath. “Thank y—”

  “On two conditions.”

  Her face closed in, turned wary. “Which are?”

  “First, if you mention paying me again, the deal’s off. No way I’m going to take money you’ll probably need for the legal battles still ahead.”

  She didn’t try to hide her relief. “I can live with that. Second?”

  “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow! Why?”

  “Remember those pluses you just enumerated? Particularly the one about me being gone more than I’m home? My unit’s heading across the pond. We’re going wheels up at o-dark-thirty Monday morning.”

  “But tomorrow’s Sunday! The country clerk’s office won’t be open to issue a license.”

  “Then I guess we’d better make a quick trip to the scene of the crime.” He had to grin at her blank look. “Vegas, sweetheart. Vegas. I’ll take care of the details. Just give me your address, phone number and email. I’ll let you know what time I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  * * *

  Alex exited the Cactus Café’s dusty parking lot and drove home in a swirl of emotions. This was what she wanted. This was the scheme she’d paid her high-priced lawyer to help her devise. It didn’t do a bit of good to remind herself that she’d resisted putting that scheme into play until she’d discovered this year’s Badger Bash would take place at the Cactus Café.

  She’d known for months that Major Ben Kincaid was stationed right here, in Albuquerque, at the vast, sprawling military installation dominating the south part of the city. Kirtland Air Force Base was home to a dozen or more military units, including the premier training squadron for Special Ops aircrews and pararescue personnel. It hadn’t taken much sleuthing to confirm he was one of the instructors assigned to the 58th Special Operations Wing.

  Alex hadn’t acted on that knowledge, however, as much as she’d wanted to. Her life was complicated enough with her rapidly expanding business, taking care of Maria, and trying to ramrod an adoption through a confusing and complicated legal system.

  Then Eddie Musgrove, damn his putrid soul, had appeared in court. In restraints and an orange prison jumpsuit, no less. Despite the fact that he was a deadbeat dad and convicted felon, he’d convinced the doddering, dyspeptic, misogynistic judge that a single working woman wasn’t a suitable parent for his daughter. He’d also convinced the judge that the photo of his wife with that black eye was a result of a misunderstanding. He’d never laid another hand on her, or so much as touched his daughter in anger.

  Furious and more than a little desperate, Alex had brainstormed the next course of action with her lawyer. After discussing and discarding several options, she and Paul Montoya had decided on the one—the only one!—that seemed doable.

  Then she’d hit the computer. She was searching for a contact number for Major Benjamin Kincaid when she saw a flash about the Badger Bash. It was here this year. At the Cactus Café. Central Avenue. Starting tonight. And sure enough, Kincaid had been there. Her one-time lover and prospective groom.

  She still couldn’t quite believe he’d accepted her desperate proposal. Now all she had to do was go home and dig through her closet for something to wear to her wedding.

  Chapter Two

  “Why can’t I go, too?”

  Alex swallowed a sigh and gave Maria the same answer she had the previous four times. “Because this is a quick trip. I’ll be home in time to pick you up at Dinah’s before bedtime.”

  “But you promised to take me ’n’ her to the BioPark today.”

  “I know, Kitten. We’ll go next weekend. Cross my heart!”

  Raising the scrubber she’d used to rinse the breakfast dishes, Alex air-sketched an X on her cream-colored tunic. Swarovski crystals danced along the tunic’s hem and sweetheart neckline. Paired with palazzo pants in the same clingy fabric, it was as close as she’d been able to come to wedding white.

  Maria remained as unimpressed by Alex’s sartorial efforts as by her heart crossing. Her lower lip jutting mutinously, the girl took a just-rinsed plate and jammed it into the dishwasher.

  “I want to go,” she said again. “I haven’t seen Aunt Chelsea in a long time.”

  The “aunt” was an honorary title for Alex’s former Vegas roommate and best friend. The two women had kept in touch since Alex jettisoned her life in Vegas to move to Albuquerque. Laughing, vibrant Chelsea visited whenever she could get away from her job performing in the chorus line at the Flamingo Hotel and Casino’s flashy review.

  “Chelsea was here last month,” Alex reminded Maria. “This trip will just be me and Major Kincaid.”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t met him yet.”

  “But you’re gonna marry him!”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Alex had spent long hours last night trying to decide what to tell Maria about Ben Kincaid. After much agonizing, she’d decided to stick as close to the truth as possible.

  As she’d explained over breakfast this morning, she and the major had met two years ago and had a wonderful time together before going their separate ways. Still clinging to the truth, she related that she’d lost touch with him until she saw a notice of his old squadron’s reunion on Facebook. On a whim, she’d gone to meet him last night, and they realized they were in love and decided to get married.

  Maria hadn’t bought it. Still wasn’t buying it. Cutting off the tap, Alex wiped her hands on a dish towel and sagged the girl’s hands in hers.

  “I told him all about you, Kitten. How you love to read. How you aced your spelling test last week. How you help me with my designs. Ben can’t wait to meet you.”

  With a pout th
at had her lower lip jutting out ominously, Maria jerked her hands loose and crossed her arms over her thin chest. “He can wait all he wants. I don’t want to meet him.”

  Alex bit back another sigh. Every website she’d pored through about seven-year-olds warned that this was a touchy transition period. They weren’t yet adolescents, but they no longer needed constant supervision. Yet they still hovered between that budding independence and clinging to their trusted anchors. For Maria, that anchor was Alex.

  Unfortunately, Alex couldn’t risk explaining the real reason for her quickie Vegas wedding. The marriage had to look real. Feel real. Even to Maria.

  Especially to Maria. Alex didn’t doubt for a minute that the girl’s scumbag dad would try to use her fake marriage to undermine Maria’s tentative sense of security.

  “You’ll like Ben, Kitten. You will. He’s...”

  Sexy as hell? Beyond amazing between the sheets? Desperate, Alex glommed on to one of the few nonbedroom activities she and Ben had shared during their brief weekend together.

  “He’s a pizza freak. Just like you.”

  “Does he like the pineapple, green olives and barbecue chicken combo?”

  “I don’t know. But I bet he will if you get him to try it.”

  Maria’s lower lip did its thing again. Elbows tight, black eyes stormy, the girl was a fifty-two-pound bundle of not happy.

  As ferocious as it was, the scowl sent a wave of hot, liquid emotion pulsing through Alex. God, she loved this stubborn little person! Surprising, really, since Maria seemed to exasperate her as often as she melted every corner of her heart. Where had this confusing, conflicting, swamping love come from? Not through any blood ties, certainly. And not just because of her promise to her dying sister.

  Janet’s death had left Alex riddled with guilt. It was several months before she could admit the truth. She’d loved her sister but hadn’t really liked her.

  Janet was two years older and their father’s acknowledged favorite. Secure in that superior position, she’d ignored her younger sibling for most of their childhood. That changed in middle school, thanks to Alex’s swan-like emergence from gawky prepubescence to curvy preteen. Suddenly, the little sister got all the attention, and the gap between the two had widened even more.