Marriage Incorporated
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Debbi Rawlins
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Chapter One
Parker James watched the gloved waiter balance each champagne glass strategically on the rim of the next until the pyramid was complete. It cleared the chandelier by only a foot. Parker smiled. The whole thing would probably come crashing down any moment.
With pompous flourish, the waiter stood over his creation and poured the bubbling wine into the top glass. The elegant ballroom quieted but for a few appreciative whispers. The champagne artfully cascaded down the crystal pyramid, filling each goblet with its effervescent promise. A round of refined highbrow applause followed.
Damn. For a moment there, Parker had thought the evening might have possibilities, after all. He cradled his own slim-stemmed glass, wishing it were a beer instead, and surveyed the well-heeled crowd. Where the devil was his attorney? The collar of his tuxedo seemed to be shrinking by the minute, and he still had no idea why he’d let Harvey Winton talk him into coming to this benefit dinner.
“I see you made it.” Harvey’s voice came from behind him.
Parker turned to face the older man. “Me? I’ve been here for twenty minutes.”
Harvey adjusted the monogrammed cuffs of his custom shirt. “Well, I knew you’d be deliberately late—if you showed up at all—so I hedged my bet.”
“Fine. Now, can we leave before I have another attack of visual indigestion?”
“Leave? If your curiosity weren’t piqued, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Curiosity, hell. You said you may have an answer to...” Parker glanced around, uneasiness tickling the back of his neck. Two of his investors were over by the caviar. He lowered his voice. “We both know why I’m here.”
“That we do.” The sympathy in the attorney’s voice did not equate with the amusement in his cagey brown eyes. For an instant it disturbed Parker. But he was probably just being paranoid. So much was at stake.
“I don’t understand why we had to meet here.” Parker pushed a frustrated hand through his tawny hair. “Why not at my office?” He looked out the plate-glass windows and trained his eyes on the fading Hawaiian sunset framing Diamond Head—anything to avoid the other man’s scrutiny. Harvey was more than his attorney, more than a friend. He was the father that Parker James II had never been. And right now Parker couldn’t let Harvey see his self-doubt.
“I have my reasons. Can I get you a fresh drink?” Parker shook his head. The attorney started to turn away, then hesitated, slanting him a wry look. “Have a beer, Parker, you don’t have to drink champagne just because you’re a James.”
Parker swallowed a resigned chuckle. It wasn’t even safe to think around Harvey. He turned his attention back to the elegantly decorated room, scanning faces and recognizing many of those in attendance as people with whom he did business. But, in general, most of the people here nauseated him. They were more his parents’ crowd. Not his.
Parker’s gaze swept the room again, stopping to rest on the entrance.
“He’s not coming,” Harvey said, returning with his drink. “I talked with your mother this afternoon. They had a scheduling conflict.”
“Who said I was wondering?”
“Weren’t you?”
“No.” Damn but Harvey knew him too well. “You’re sure we need to be here.”
“Quite.” The attorney looked around at the prominent guests. “Besides, it’s good for your image.”
Parker didn’t need the reminder. There was a lot of money riding on his project. A lot of ego, too. And as much as Parker would like to disagree with his friend, Harvey was right. His family name and his newly earned reputation as Honolulu’s most promising up-and-coming real-estate tycoon would only take him so far. Rebellion had gotten him into a lot of trouble a decade ago. And now, in some ways, he was still paying.
“I’ve got enough to worry about.” Parker dusted imaginary lint from his tuxedo jacket. “Now, when are you going to explain how being here will solve anything?”
“As a matter of fact,” Harvey said, nudging his chin toward the door. “I think the solution to your problem just walked in.”
Parker followed Harvey’s gaze to the young woman coming through the door. She wore a simple black strapless dress. A single strand of pearls fell upon flawless tanned skin. Her glossy black hair might have hung to her waist, but it was wildly out of place as if she had just climbed off a motorcycle. She went from one person to another, smiling and shaking hands, never once apologizing for her appearance.
Parker liked that. A smile formed on his lips. “Who is she?”
“Ashley King.”
“My savior, huh? Does she have a small fortune looking for a home?”
“Quite the contrary. Besides, you need a miracle, not money.”
“Spit it out, Harvey. What’s the angle?” He craned his neck to get a better look at Ashley King. Annoyed as he was, Parker’s impatience faded.
The woman was petite. Only about five foot two, if he had to guess. Small and curvy, her hips swayed to a gentle, silent rhythm as she worked her way around the room. He couldn’t get a good look at her face though, and he had already resigned himself to the fact that being that small, she’d most likely have a high, squeaky voice.
She finger combed her hair away from her face and tilted her head back, laughing at something a young man had said. Her neck was long and graceful and beckoning. Parker fastened his gaze on that silken expanse of vibrant skin and something flared inside him. He swallowed hard. Quickly he raised his eyes to her face, but it was too late.
Like a black satin veil, her hair fell forward, obscuring her profile. Frustrated, Parker maneuvered himself to within a few feet of her. Then he heard her laugh. Deep, throaty—a Kathleen Turner kind of laugh. Staring in surprise, he watched her turn wide hazel eyes on him.
“Hi. I’m Ashley King,” she said and offered him her hand. “Isn’t this a lovely party?”
He was still recovering from her voice when she favored him with a wide, enticing smile. Beads of perspiration formed at his hairline. “I’m Parker James.”
“I know the name well.” A small disapproving frown appeared at her brow but just as quickly fell away. “You must be the third.”
“The third what?” There it was again. That seductive laugh.
“Parker James III. You’re far too young to be the second.”
“Oh, yeah.” Parker cringed inwardly. He’d always hated being addressed as “the third” and had subconsciously put it out of his mind. Catching sight of an amused Harvey out of the corner of his eye, he gestured the man forward. “This is Harvey Winton.” He paused. “Or do you two know each other?”
“I don’t think so.” Ashley turned her attention to Harvey. “But you do look familiar.”
While Ashley and his friend exchanged greetings, Parker used the time to study her. She wasn’t pretty in a classical sense, but she possessed a certain magnetic charm. He’d already sensed that, as she had made her way around the room, people were drawn to her. His gaze lingered on her small oval face, her eyes, warm and golden like maple syrup. How could she possibly help him?
Unless it was to seduce some high-ranking government types. But that wasn’t Harvey’s style. Besides, the thought repulsed Parker. He was no Boy Scout, and there certainly wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to get out of this jam, but he felt oddly indignant that she could be involved in anything so sordid.
“And what type of law do you practice, Mr. James?” Ashley’s low, soft voice floated through his reverie.
“Me?” Parker tried to keep the stiffness out of his tone, but when her natural assumption finally sunk in, he felt his answer tangle in his mouth. His bow tie seemed to tighten a notch. “I’m not a lawyer.”
“Oh...” A spark of interest brought out green flecks in her guileless eyes. “I thought the James name was synonymous with law and politics.”
“I’m not like the rest of my family.” Amazing, there was someone on this island who didn’t already know that.
Ashley flashed a puzzled look at Harvey, who was busy studying the olive in his drink. “Well, I’m certainly glad you could attend our benefit. Obviously you think it’s a worthy cause,” she said, her smile still brilliantly intact. “Wasn’t it wonderful of the board to lend us the museum for the evening?” She placed her hand on Parker’s arm. Just as quickly she withdrew it.
Startled, Parker had felt the electric current between them. He looked deep into her astonished eyes and found some consolation there. She’d felt the connection, too. He could see it in the small heave of her chest, hear it in the slight quiver of her voice.
“It looks wonderful, doesn’t it?” She gestured around the grand room where each flower was fastidiously in place, each glass crafted from the finest crystal and each dress more glamorous than the next.
And although Ashley looked as elegant as any woman there, Parker instinctively knew this wasn’t her scene. So what did she have to do with all this? And how was she going to help him?
She had averted her gaze and laughed again at something Harvey said. Even though Parker had no idea what they were talking about, he felt his own lips curve in response. A tiny dimple had formed at the corner of her rose-tinted mouth and a twinkle of gold and green sparkled in her flashing eyes. The sensuality of her throaty laughter vibrated throughout his body.
He wanted her to tilt her head back again. He wanted to feast on all that silken skin dipping into soft cleavage. He wanted to...
Parker shook himself. There was something dangerously infectious about Ashley King. And if they were going to do any kind of business together, he’d better remember to keep it just that—business.
“May I get you a drink?” Parker asked all of a sudden. The air was closing in on him. He needed space.
“No, thanks. I’m fine,” Ashley said. “But if you’ll excuse me...”
Parker had already begun backing away, a lump blossoming in his throat. Just before he turned toward the bar, he saw the curiosity in Ashley’s face, the amusement in Harvey’s.
Where was all the Ivy-League confidence his parents had paid for? At the moment, gone. He had downed half his champagne refill when Harvey caught up with him.
“Slow down, man. You’re going to be needing a clear head.”
“A clear head for what, Harvey? I’m tired of the riddles. I’m tired of this evening. I’m just plain tired. Tell me what the hell is going on. And who the hell is Ashley King to me?” He gulped down the rest of his drink.
“Your fiancée, hopefully.”
Parker almost lost his mouthful. Instead, it made a painful jerking descent down his tightened throat. “Are you crazy?” he finally spat out.
“Sometimes more than others, but in this particular instance I’m quite lucid.” All traces of indulgence vanished from Harvey’s face. “And dead serious.”
Parker grabbed the other man’s arm and hauled him over to a private corner. Voice lowered, he asked, “What’s going on?” He made a cursory sweep of the room, pinpointing the proximity of each of his financial backers.
“I’ve tried every loophole, called in every favor. That Hawaiian homestead land is like sacred ground.” The attorney shook his gray head. “There’s a long list of hopeful and eligible applicants. Distributing it is a hot political issue. Not only does that put it out of reach, but if it were common knowledge that you want it to protect your resort, all hell would break loose. We need a backdoor approach.”
“Even for one lousy strip of it?” Parker asked in frustration, not really needing an answer. He wasn’t keen on ripping off the Hawaiian people, not even for “one lousy strip.” But this was a complication he hadn’t anticipated, and right now he felt plastered up against a brick wall. If just one investor got wind of this and pulled out, no telling how many others would follow suit. He exhaled deeply. He couldn’t begin to fathom the predicament that would put him in. “What does this have to do with Ms. King?”
“It seems...” Harvey sighed and pulled out a cigarette. “The only way you’d be able to gain control is to marry into it. And Ms. King is a very eligible candidate.”
“You are crazy.” Parker stepped back, fumbling with his tie. For a hundred and twenty bucks, it should be able to unknot itself.
“Of course, getting her to agree is another matter. But that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
“Why not?” Parker threw up his hands, shaking his head. “More importantly, why am I even asking? This is absurd.”
“Because she needs the money.”
“And where is this money supposed to come from? If things don’t get ironed out soon, I’ll be bankrupt.”
“Exactly. So to put it in your own vernacular, this may be the only way to save your butt.”
Parker jammed his fisted hands into his pockets. The evening had gone from bad to worse. And as if he didn’t have enough of his own problems, now all he could think about was why Ashley King would need money badly enough to marry for it. But he wouldn’t give Harvey the satisfaction of asking. Anyway, it was irrelevant. Marriages of convenience, business marriages or whatever the hell they called them, were a thing of the past. Archaic. Out of the question.
“You could do much worse.” Harvey took a long, seemingly bored drag off his cigarette, then blew a stream of smoke in Ashley’s direction.
“Nasty habit, Harvey. Give it up.” Parker pretended not to follow his friend’s gaze, but darted a quick glance in time to see her flick that magnificent black mane over her bare, silky shoulder. “Besides, I prefer blondes.”
“I don’t think your investors much care what you prefer. Do you?”
Parker winced at the reminder. There was more at stake than his reputation and money. “This is just plain crazy.” He paced a little, knowing how wild animals felt in a cage. “There’s got to be...” He stared at his attorney. “You know, Harv, I don’t see what the hell you find so funny about this whole situation. Every time I look at you, you’ve got a damn smirk on your face.”
“Amusing,” the other man corrected. “Not funny.”
“Amusing?”
“It’s too bad Ms. King wasn’t as susceptible to your charms as the other ladies about town.”
Parker glanced over his shoulder at whatever was capturing Harvey’s attention. Two women, one blonde and one redhead, were looking his way. He knew them both socially but had never been impressed enough to pursue anything. He gave them the expected wave. They smiled their reply.
“Honolulu’s finest,” Harvey murmured and raised his glass in salute to the two women.
“Spare me,” Parker said. He turned back to face his friend and rolled his eyes.
“You might have been a bit more charming to Ms. King. It wouldn’t have hurt to bat those popular baby blues of yours at her.”
Parker slammed down his glass and reached for a bottle of beer off the tray of a passing waiter. “Give it a rest, Winton,” he ground out through clenched teeth, then headed for the door and away from Harvey’s irritating snicker.
Across the room, Ashley kept Parker James in her peripheral vision. It was easy to do, since his tawny head was visible above most others. Something about him interested her. It wasn’t physical, she assured herself, ignoring the quickening of her pulse as she recalled the sleepy blue of his eyes, the fullness of his lips.
He wasn’t anywhere near her type, not that her social life was hopping these days, especially with her tight volunteer schedule and her daily visits to the hospital. But there was something intriguing about him....
Ashley turned her attention to the impeccably manicured woman who’d cornered her and tried to concentrate on what the wealthy matron was saying. After all, the woman had just donated a king’s ransom to Ashley’s beloved Hawaiian Immersion Program. With the contributions Ashley and her committee had secured, the program was about to get its start.
She breathed a happy inward sigh, then caught sight of Parker heading for the door. He carried himself with purpose and confidence...the best money could buy. If only some of that James fortune would make its way to one of her pet charities. But that was unlikely—and surely what accounted for the pang of disappointment she felt at watching his broad shoulders disappear through the smoked-glass doors.
Besides, Ashley had a far graver problem to worry about. Her heart heavy, she forced a smile for her chatty companion, ignoring the irony that she and her father were one step away from being a charity case themselves.
* * *
IT WAS A PERFECT MAY afternoon and Parker decided to do something he never did...skip out of his office two hours early.
He pulled up beside his sprawling beach house, then stepped out of his cherry red Porsche and walked to the mailbox. God, it was a great day. He squinted up at the bright sun and cloudless sky. Today, nothing would stop him from that swim and game of tennis he’d promised himself. Two of life’s little pleasures that he never seemed to have time for anymore.
While sorting through the mail, he meandered back to the house. Bills. A pizzeria advertisement. More bills. Then a small linen envelope caught his eye. He tore the seal.
“A wedding invitation? Oh, Christ.” He jammed the contents back into the envelope. His life had been a spinning top ever since Harvey had presented his harebrained idea, and now reminders of it were popping up when least expected.
At least he had made it clear to Harvey. Absolutely, positively no way would he marry Ashley King, or anyone else, to secure that strip of homestead land.
He thought about the posh resort he’d broken his back to have built during the past three years, and about the overlooked tract of poverty-afflicted homestead land that would threaten wealthy consciences if visible from the resort windows. And only one lousy strip of unclaimed land separated it all.
It was also the only thing separating him from redemption.
Not only were a lot of investors with big money riding on him, there was his father—and his father’s long, unforgiving memory.
Maybe Harvey’s attempt at creativity hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. It certainly had gotten Parker moving. Since Saturday, he had had architects and landscapers working around the clock to camouflage the stretch of unsightly homestead structures. He’d also promised large bonuses to keep it quiet.
The relocation of trees alone was going to cost him a small fortune, but he already had his accountants liquidating some of his assets. Although his latest effort was no guarantee, he would overcome this problem. He’d make a hefty profit, reestablish his name, and he’d do it by himself. Not that the money was particularly important. Parker’d known wealth most of his life. Then he’d had next to nothing during his more rebellious years. And although having money was better, it wasn’t essential—no matter what his family seemed to think. For him, money had merely become a by-product of his personal success. And not having it handed to him made it a whole lot sweeter.
Parker shifted the mail to one hand and fumbled with his key ring until he found his house key. He let himself in the entrance of his suite rather than in the front door, hoping he could sneak off to his room without fending twenty questions from his housekeeper.
He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the valet. He tossed his tie on the chest of drawers.
“Parker?” A tentative voice called out.
“Yes, Mrs. Lee, it’s me,” he assured the housekeeper and dropped his shirt near the hamper. The woman had always had sharp ears. In his teen years, it had been his cross to bear.
“You’re home early. Anything wrong?” She called from the kitchen where she spent most of her time.
“Nothing at all.” His socks landed somewhere near his shirt.
“And Parker?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lee.”
“Pick up your clothes.”
Parker grinned. Only Mrs. Lee and Harvey would think of speaking to him like that. When he had returned from the mainland for good, he’d noticed how much older she looked. She had worked for his parents for as long as he could remember. But the large plantation-style house had become too much for her, and he was pleased it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to work for him. She was a proud woman and would never accept anything resembling charity, but at least this way Parker could make sure she didn’t overdo it.
He kicked the clothes into a pile, promising himself he’d get to them before Mrs. Lee. All he could think of right now was diving into that pool and soaking up some sun. He pulled on a pair of battered old trunks and headed outside.
After only five laps, Parker was winded. When had he gotten so out of shape? Harvey had tried to tell him how all-consuming this project had become, and he’d probably been right. As well as his friend knew him though, Parker suspected the attorney didn’t fully fathom the importance of making this resort a success.
He hauled himself out of the pool and was about to settle onto a chaise longue when he heard a car pull up along the side drive to the house. The distinct purr of the engine alerted his senses. Only one person he knew had a car that finely tuned. Sweat mingled with the chlorinated water. He toweled off both and waited.
“Good afternoon, Parker. Beautiful day.”
He draped the towel around his neck and turned to study his father. Even in his late sixties he was virile and commanding. His shock of white hair was perfectly styled. It wouldn’t dare not be.
“Afternoon, Father. What brings you by?”
“I wanted to have a word with you. I stopped by your office but they said you’d already left, so I just took a chance you’d be home.”
Why didn’t his father just come out and ask him, Parker wondered. Ask him why he saw fit to leave work for a senseless afternoon in the sun.
Parker could feel residual defiance begin to fester. He squelched it fast. He wasn’t perfect, no matter how much his father wanted him to be. He’d reconciled himself to that fact long ago, but deep-rooted hurt had a way of sneaking up and stealing pieces of maturity and rationale. “Well, you’ve found me. Can I get you something to drink? Some iced tea?”
“I won’t be that long. But I would like to retire to some shade, if you don’t mind. My skin can’t take the sun like it used to.”
“Of course.” Parker gestured to the patio. He watched his father walk ahead of him, shoulders slightly stooped. When had he allowed that small imperfection? Parker wondered. “Playing much golf lately?”
“No. Not much at all. I’ve been leaving that to the younger men. And you, playing much tennis?”
“I’ve been too busy.” Parker shook his head. For the first time he could remember, his father looked old. “But I’m playing a couple of rounds with Tom Booker today.”
“How is Tom?”
“Good. What is it you wanted, Father?”
Parker James II issued a short elegant snort. “A little pleasant conversation, perhaps?” He smiled wryly at his son’s cynical expression. “All right, how about some news on the Makena project?”
“You heard everything there is at the last board meeting.”
“No problems?”
“Everything is on schedule.”
“Well, son, I thought you should know....” His father paused, rare uncertainty shadowing his bright blue eyes that were so much like Parker’s. “There are some rumors flying around.”
“What sort of rumors?” Parker was glad for the towel around his neck. He didn’t want his father to see him sweat.
“Nothing specific that I’ve been privy to. Just that there might be some problems.”
Parker shook his head but was saved from responding by the phone’s ringing. He twisted around, stalling, hoping Mrs. Lee would call him. His rescuer appeared.
“Parker, it’s Harvey Winton.” Mrs. Lee shrugged plump shoulders. “I tried to take a message, but he said it was urgent.”
“Excuse me a moment.” Parker swallowed a relieved sigh as he stepped past the sliding-glass doors and slid them closed behind him. He picked up the cordless phone and greeted Harvey.
“We’ve got trouble,” the attorney said, his voice unusually tense.
“Go on.”
“Rumors. None accurate, but they always cause questions.”
“Do you know who’s behind it?” Parker automatically glanced out at his father, who was watching him intently through the closed glass door.
“That’s hard to tell. Not that it matters. I wanted to advise you right away, because there is one question you will have to answer and I’m not quite sure what to tell them.”
“What’s that, Harvey?” Parker pulled the towel from around his neck and mopped his sweaty forehead. At that moment Parker James II slid open the door and his gaze fell on the small but elaborate spider tattooed on his son’s shoulder. The visible reminder of the day Parker’d had too much booze and too little sense. It was the day he had quit law school. The day he had disgraced his family. A day he would never forget.
“Parker, some of the board members want to know why you’re suddenly liquidating assets,” Harvey stated after a significant pause.
“Tell them...” Parker’s gaze took in the piercing censure of his father, his disapproval almost searing Parker’s skin. “Tell them I’ll be paying for a wedding.”
