Terms Of A Texas Marriage. Lauren Canan

in frustration as she passed the pad to Leona “—it’s been a long time.”

      Leona took the list and set it aside, her eyes locked on Shea’s face. “You’re not seriously thinking about asking some man to marry you.” It was more a statement than a question.

      She shrugged. “What else can I do?”

      “Do you have even the slightest idea what you’d be letting yourself in for?”

      “It will be a business agreement, strictly platonic.”

      “Yeah, sure it will,” Leona muttered, rubbing her hand over her face. “God Almighty. This is the damnedest situation I’ve ever heard of.”

      Leona picked up the list, gave her a weary look and began to scan the names. “Tommy Hall. Are his parents John and Grace?”

      “Yeah.” Shea nodded.

      “He got married two weeks ago. One of our hands was his best man.” Leona picked up a pen and crossed off his name.

      “Duncan Adams. Drinks,” she recalled. “A lot. You don’t need that grief. Cecil Taylor? I hear he loses more than he makes on the horses over in Bossier City. Unless you’re willing to bankroll his gambling, you can scratch him off the list.”

      One by one, Leona crossed off each man until, of the fourteen names, only one remained.

      “What about Tim Schultz?” Shea asked, trying not to sound desperate.

      Leona looked at the last name on the list. “Maybe. Isn’t his father the preacher over at that little church east of town?” She frowned in contemplation. “I’ve never heard nothing bad about him. Kinda quiet. ’Bout your age, right?”

      “Yeah,” Shea confirmed. “His family only moved to this area a few years ago, but I had some classes with him in college. He’s nice enough, I guess.”

      “So, how do you plan to approach him with this little plan of yours?” Leona laid the pen and pad on the table. “You gonna just walk up to him and say, ‘Howdy. Will you marry me for a year? Oh, and by the way, it’s strictly business.’ I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall when you throw that little tidbit in his direction.”

      “I’ll explain the circumstances, of course.” She hadn’t rationalized this part of the plan, but obviously it would be necessary. “I’ll have to.”

      “Girl, use your head. Maybe if you talked to that Morreston fellow again—”

      “No.” Sitting back in her chair, Shea crossed her arms in front of her. Alec Morreston. The mere mention of his name caused a hot blush to spread over her neck and face. The look of male want in his eyes was still vivid in her mind. She’d never experienced anything like it, but even after three days, she knew she hadn’t imagined it. And neither had she imagined his cold insensitivity to the havoc he’d caused in her life. She resolutely shook her head. “I can promise you, it would do no good. He’s a developer. He lives in New York, probably in some posh penthouse. He doesn’t care about the land. He doesn’t care about anything but making more money. Probably never got his hands dirty in his life.”

      “What if you turned the tables on him?” Leona asked, taking another long drink of her tea.

      Shea frowned. “I don’t understand.”

      “Well, Ben told you, according to that contract, if you weren’t married by the end of the month, Morreston had to marry you or agree to renew the lease. Right?”

      Shea nodded, suddenly afraid of where this was going.

      “So tell him you want to marry him.”

      Shea could only gape in horror.

      “Put the problem back on his plate,” Leona reasoned. “Think about it. He’s a city fellow. He’s not going to agree to marry you and live on this ranch. He thinks he’s got you bluffed into doing just exactly what you’re doing—refusing to use him as a way out.”

      Shea stubbornly shook her head. “No way, Leona.” The idea was beyond bizarre. “Absolutely no way.” She still had forty-eight hours.

      “I sure wish your father was still alive,” Leona muttered.

      “So do I, Leona,” Shea whispered as she stood and walked to the phone to call Tim Schultz. “So do I.”

      * * *

      Shea sipped from the glass of ice water and tried to remain calm. Tonight, before midnight, she had to be married. Tim had finally returned her call this morning. No doubt sensing the urgency in her tone, he’d agreed to meet her at Barstall’s City Diner at one o’clock. He was late.

      What was she going to say? All the rehearsing in the world couldn’t prepare her for what she had to discuss with him. How would he respond? Would he laugh? Would he just walk out? Or, most important, would he agree to do it?

      Before leaving yesterday, Leona once more had encouraged her to call Morreston’s bluff. But Shea had held firm in her conviction that nothing on earth would make her so desperate to even contemplate such a thing. Heaven help the poor female coerced into marriage with that man.

      Instinctively she knew Alec Morreston would be demanding, in bed as well as out. Even if the situation were different, a brief affair with a man like Morreston would take more from her than she could give. She suspected such a liaison would turn into an emotional roller coaster, and that was the last thing she needed in her life.

      But it was a moot point. Morreston was long gone. It had taken him fewer than two hours to invade her world and turn it completely upside down. Then he had left, not even bothering to look back as she desperately tried to pick up the pieces from the devastation he’d caused. No doubt, he assumed she would just relinquish her home and quietly disappear. Well, he was in for a surprise—

      “Hello, Ms. Hardin.” Shea jumped at the sound of the deep voice directly to her left. Her head snapped around and her eyes immediately grew wide in astonishment. She could feel the blood drain from her face as she stared into the amber eyes of Alec Morreston.

      “May I join you?”

      Before she could respond, he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. As his eyes scanned her face, his lips twitched with unrepressed humor at her stunned look. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak.

      “What...what are you doing here?” she stammered, finally finding her voice.

      “I’m about to have lunch,” he said innocently, as though misunderstanding the true meaning of her question.

      Shea glared at him.

      Alec shrugged. “I decided to take a few days and see some of the area. Thought it might be...beneficial...to the future development of the project.” He responded as if choosing his words carefully. “Have you ordered yet?”

      “Have I...? No.” She shook her head. “No. I’m meeting someone.” She looked toward the front entrance, no longer sure she’d be glad to see Tim walk through it.

      Alec regarded her silently for a moment. “I see. Well, then I’ll certainly move to another table as soon as she—or he?—arrives.”

      If Shea had been nervous before Morreston’s unexpected arrival, that feeling was mild compared to what she was experiencing now. Suddenly, she could relate to every mouse ever caught in a trap that had looked up to find the cat walking in its direction. How on earth was she ever going to present her problem to Tim with Morreston hanging over her shoulder?

      “The roasted chicken sounds good,” he commented, scanning the lunch specials. “What do you recommend?”

      “You really don’t want me to answer that.”

      He glanced at her face over the top of the menu and feigned surprise. But the deepening of the tiny lines around his eyes told her he found her remark amusing.

      Before she could deliberate