His Marriage Pact. Kathie DeNosky

      Paris found it difficult to believe a man like Dallas Calloway—a reputed confirmed bachelor—would blurt out a proposal to a woman he’d known less than twenty-four hours. “Let me get this straight. You’d be willing to marry me in order to sleep with me?”

      “Yep.”

      This simply had to be a joke with an impending punch line. “Shouldn’t we go steady first?”

      “I’m serious, Paris, and I’m not asking just so I can get you into my bed.”

      From the somber look on his face, she could tell he was dead serious. “If it’s not only the sex, then why would you want to rush into a marriage?”

      “Because I need a wife and I need one fairly fast.”

      Her head started spinning from confusion. “Could you be any more vague?”

      “It’s kind of complicated. But I believe getting married would benefit both of us.”

      In what universe? “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Dallas. As I said before, you could probably have any woman you wanted and—”

      “I don’t want any other woman. And in all honesty, I’m running out of time to find a bride.”

      Paris entertained visions of gloom and doom. “Is there something physically wrong with you?”

      “Do you mean a terminal illness?”

      “Yes.”

      “No, but I am suffering from an incurable codicil.”

      “Now I’m really perplexed.”

      “Join the club.” He gestured toward the end of the lengthy barn. “Let’s go into the office. You’re going to need to sit down while I explain.”

      That sounded like a good plan. Her knees were still weak from their mini make-out session and the bombshell proposal. “Lead the way.”

      Paris followed Dallas into the office that was surprisingly simple and blessedly cool. She took a black-and-chrome chair situated in the corner while he leaned back on the industrial metal desk opposite her.

      Dallas released a rough sigh as he centered his gaze on her. “Before I launch into this mess, I need to know I can trust you with the information I’m about to disclose.”

      She braced for deep secrets, an all too familiar concept. “I promise I won’t say anything. Besides, I really don’t have anyone to tell, at least not around here. And I promise you I have no intention of mentioning any of this conversation to my mother and father.”

      “No best friend?”

      “Not really. I basically lost touch with my friends from college.” A sad commentary on the state of her life.

      “Good, because some of my current predicament involves a scandal.”

      Her curiosity was considerably piqued. “Go ahead.”

      After looking away a few moments, Dallas finally regarded her again. “A few years ago, during the reading of my dad’s will, we discovered he had another family we didn’t know a damn thing about.”

      “You mean Jenny?”

      “Yeah, and the twins.”

      Both shocking and scandalous. “I didn’t realize your dad and Maria divorced.”

      “They didn’t.”

      The cogs started spinning in her head as she added outrageous to the adjectives describing the situation. “You mean he was—”

      “A bigamist.”

      “How did he get away with that?”

      “By leaving the state to screw around on Maria. He bought a horse farm in Louisiana when Maria was pregnant with my half brother Houston. He met Jenny in New Orleans, married her and proceeded to get her pregnant not long after my other half brother Tyler was born. For over twenty years he lived the lie and no one was the wiser.”

      Paris felt as if she’d been thrust into a spaghetti Western soap opera. “I can’t imagine keeping a secret of that magnitude for weeks, much less decades.”

      “J. D. Calloway was a conniving, cheating, lying son of a bitch,” he said, venom in his voice. “Pardon my French.”

      She couldn’t believe he would be concerned about cursing in light of what he’d just told her. “No worries. My father speaks the language fluently.”

      Her attempt at humor obviously fell flat when Dallas didn’t even crack a smile. “But that part of the sorry story isn’t even the worst of it.”

      Paris had a difficult time believing it could get much worse. Then again... “Please don’t tell me he had another wife.”

      “Not that we’re aware of, although I wouldn’t put it past him. But he did have it out for me.”

      “Why is that?”

      “Because he never could control me in life, so he decided to do it in death.”

      She definitely didn’t think she’d care for the late Calloway patriarch. “How exactly did he manage that?”

      “By using ownership of the ranch. He knew my grandfather insisted the controlling interest of the D Bar C be passed down to his first-born grandson, and my dad was forced to adhere to that request. But then he added a condition that would allow me to continue to run this place only if I did his bidding.”

      She was almost afraid to ask. “Such as?”

      “I have to get married before my thirty-eighth birthday. If not, controlling interest reverts to my half brother Fort who doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about this place. He’s so ate up with anger he’d like to see all of us fail.”

      So now she knew why that milestone held so much importance with the mothers. And she suspected she knew the reason behind the spontaneous proposal. “Am I correct in assuming you want me to prevent that from happening by entering into a bogus marriage?”

      He scowled. “When you put it that way, it makes me sound like a jerk. But after I met you yesterday and learned about your current situation, I figured it would benefit us both.”

      “How am I going to benefit from a lie?”

      “Financially.”

      She’d begun to feel a bit like the prostitute Maria had believed her to be. “Marriage for money. Interesting. And out of the question.”

      “Will you at least hear me out?”

      “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But first, I have to know one thing.”

      “Go ahead.”

      “How could you put that much faith in this plan when you know so little about me?”

      He paused for a brief moment. “Your parents are Howard and Sheila Reynolds. You were born in San Diego thirty-two years ago on November second. You graduated from a prestigious college, worked for an equally prestigious firm in Nevada and you married Peter L. Smith in Vegas eight years ago. I didn’t find any record of your divorce though.”

      She was floored he’d gained so much information in such a short time. “I have the documents although they’re in Spanish, and a photo of the book where the registrar recorded the divorce. And exactly when did you do this background check on me?”

      “I couldn’t sleep last night so I did an internet search. This morning I called a friend who’s in security. He took it from there.”

      Security meant criminal history. Momentary panic set in. “Did he find anything interesting?”

      “Nope. Not one felony or misdemeanor or even a speeding ticket.”

      She relaxed