A Grand Illusion Page 7

  'Give me one good reason why.' He sounded furious.

  'I'm old-fashioned, remember? Marriage involves love. And sharing. A commitment for life with trust and—and growth.' Jenna groped for a way to put her feelings into words. 'Did you feel that way when you had that baby in there?' Royce jeered harshly. 'Where was all the loving and sharing and trust then?'

  'Just leave him out of it!'

  'No.' He came closer and squatted on the floor in front of her, looking straight into her eyes. 'I want you and I know he goes along with you. You need someone to help you take care of him. Or are you waiting for his father to be free so you can marry him?'

  Jenna sucked in a harsh breath and searched his face as if it would tell her how much he knew.

  'Meg told me the man was married and you never told him about the baby, but she wouldn't say any more than that.' He took her small cold hands in his. 'I don't care about any of that. It's in your past. I'm your future. If you marry me, I can give you security, a beautiful home to live in, a family to care for your son.'

  Her shallow breathing stopped altogether. 'I couldn't sell myself for those things.'

  His face hardened to granite, his jaw clenched and he lost a little of his colour as a sudden stillness fell between them. 'Then what will you sell yourself for? Name your price. Whatever it is, I'll meet it.'

  Jenna tried to twist her hands away from him, but his fingers tightened, crushing them. 'I haven't got a price!' she cried. 'I'm not like the other women you date. When I give something, there's no strings attached. And when I'm given anything, I expect the same. I work for you, Mr Drummond, and you pay me a good wage for that work. That's all there is between us. That's all there can ever be. Take your violets and get out of here!'

  'All right, then, I'll keep it strictly business.' His mouth twisted. 'Right now I'm paying you to be my secretary. I'll double your salary if you'll be my wife. And don't worry, you'll earn every penny you're paid.'

  Totally at a loss, she stared at him. 'You'd pay me to be your wife? Why? I'm sure any one of a dozen women would jump at the chance.'

  'But not you.'

  A deep frown creased her forehead and her bright blue eyes were bewildered. 'I don't understand you at all. You've got all kinds of women throwing themselves at you all the time.'

  'But not you,' he said again. 'You're different. You're the kind of woman a man looks for when he wants a wife. They're the kind men take for lovers.'

  The colour in her face deepened to a hot painful crimson and something seemed to shrivel inside her. 'Oh, I see. You want someone to blend into the background, someone you can take for granted, to be there for your convenience when you need her and invisible when you don't.'

  With his head bent, Royce stared at her hands crushed in his for a long moment, his face unreadable, then he gave her a long measuring look, 'I wouldn't have put it quite so baldly, but yes—I need that kind of wife. Any passion between us would have been a fringe benefit. But it's not necessary. I can get it elsewhere. I need someone to help me raise my brothers and sisters, and you're the only one I can ask.'

  He let her hands go and she flexed her fingers one by one, glad to feel the tingling sensation as the blood rushed back through them. The pain was real. She wasn't imagining this idiotic conversation.

  'Would you care to sit down and explain?' she finally said, willing herself to listen. It was ridiculously absurd, but she might as well hear him out. For a horrified moment earlier she thought he was playing some kind of cruel game, leading her on to see how soon he could make her capitulate before he told her it was all a joke. Handsome men didn't make passes at plain girls—let alone propose! But his face was serious enough and she doubted he was a good enough actor to fake those bluish lines at the corners of his mouth.

  He got to his feet, then sank wearily down on the sofa, dragging his hands through his hair, facing her across the small span of the living room. 'You're aware that I'm the eldest of seven children?'

  This was news to her, but she kept her face expressionless, nodding as if she had known it all along. After all, if she had ever really met Peter, he probably would have mentioned it.

  'I'm thirty-three, Jennifer. Peter's next at twenty-five. Then there's Kathleen who's nineteen, Susan, seventeen, Ryan, fifteen, and the twins, Adam and Zachary, who are thirteen. My father died ten years ago and, since I was the eldest, everything fell on me. It had to. I've never regretted the responsibility, and now they're more like my own children rather than brothers and sisters.'

  Jenna blinked but didn't say anything. He was presenting a different picture of himself, that of a responsible family man rather than irresponsible playboy. Had she misjudged him? She shook her head. No, there were all those roses…

  'My mother's about to remarry,' he said quietly, '—a hotelier from the Bahamas. For days now, all I've had is chaos at home. They're impressionable teenagers and they don't want to move to an island with a stepfather. Visiting is all right, but they don't want to live there, and he can't sell up and move here because it's a family business and he's put his whole life into it.

  'The twins have threatened to run away. Susan says she'll marry the first man who asks her. Ryan's been hounding all his friends for a spare room in their homes. Kathleen's in the middle of her university training and says it's unfair to ask her to transfer. Peter's the only one who's unaffected, because he and his wife are off somewhere in Mexico and don't know anything about it.'

  Jenna felt herself sympathising with him, but had to check the impulse. It simply wouldn't do.

  'My mother's a nervous wreck.' Royce grabbed his head as if it ached. 'She's thinking now of calling the wedding off because it's not right for her to be happy at the expense of her children.' His luminous eyes pleaded with her. 'The only workable solution I could come up with is to find a suitable wife and settle down to care for them, since I've been doing it all these years anyway. My mother keeps telling me it's high time I married, and I'm not getting any younger.'

  'But that would put quite a crimp in your style, wouldn't it?' she said slightly.

  A relieved look crossed his face. 'I knew you'd understand. I need someone to be there in the evenings, after work and on weekends when I'm not. Someone reliable, to take my mother's place.'

  'Why don't you just hire a housekeeper? You don't need to tie yourself down with a wife.'

  'We have a housekeeper, but she absolutely refuses to be responsible for five teenagers. She says it's enough to ask her to keep the house running smoothly without trying to have her keep track of five wild Indians too. But you could do it. Nothing bothers you. If you married me, I wouldn't be tied down. I'd still have my own life—discreetly, of course. I wouldn't humiliate you. We don't have to pretend to anyone that there's any love between us, but I think we could get on well together—like an old married couple. I'll provide for you and your son. You'll be paid well. And in return, you'll care for my family and home as efficiently as you do the office.'

  Jenna reeled from his unthinking selfishness. Did he actually believe she'd go along with this absurd idea? That she'd let him have his cake and eat it too? Didn't he realise she had feelings and wants and needs, not to mention a son who was his nephew?

  'Will you at least think about it?' He injected a touch of pleading in his voice when he saw her darkening frown.

  'There's nothing to think about. I sympathise with you—but no. It's the most absurd proposal I've ever heard!'

  'Oh? Have you heard many?' He arched one black mocking eyebrow upward.

  Ice began moving over her again. He knew no one had ever asked her to marry him before, but she had pride. Some day a man just might fall in love with her. It wasn't all that impossible. All girls had that hope, even the plain ones, even the most liberated, even if they would never admit it. What kind of life was he offering her compared to what she hoped for?

  'I'm sorry, the answer is still no.' Besides, there was the added complication of Meg—Meg, the sister she
was responsible for, the sister who wanted Royce for herself. She could just imagine her reaction if she told her Royce had proposed.

  'Don't be so quick to refuse.' He rolled to his feet in an easy motion and stood facing her, a coaxing smile on his handsome face. 'I know I've done this badly, but you're a practical person. Take some time to weigh the pros and cons. Think of what I'm offering you and your son: the Drummond name and a chance for respectability, if nothing else. You'll have to look long and hard for another man to accept an illegitimate son with no questions asked.'

  Her heart twisted painfully. If he only knew… 'I don't have to think about it, Mr Drummond. The answer has to be no.'

  'You'll think about it,' he said softly, reaching out to brush his fingertips swiftly down the side of her face in an unbearably sensuous caress that ended almost before it began. 'You're tempted, my paragon. It's there in your eyes. You won't be able to stop thinking about it.'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He was right. His absurd proposal took precedence over every other thought she had. All through her working day it buzzed like a persistent fly at the back of her brain. She couldn't seriously consider it, she told herself. It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. But she couldn't forget it.

  Royce Drummond knew it too. He watched her, silently, knowingly, with the utmost patience. He didn't mention it again, made no sly references, no innuendoes, but Jenna knew he was waiting for her to come and tell him she was ready to accept. She simply had to. After all, as plain as she was, she'd never get a better offer. He must have thought he was irresistible—or rather, his name, position and wealth were. But he hadn't realised how much truth there was in his statement that she was different from the rest of the women he knew.

  When, after a week, she still hadn't literally fallen into his arms, he changed his tactics.

  At five o'clock one rainy evening at the beginning of June, Jenna straightened her papers on her desk and was putting the cover on her typewriter when a hesitant voice came floating across the wide room.

  'Excuse me. Is Royce still here?'

  She watched a tall young man advance. He was dressed in well-worn blue jeans and a dripping grey sweatshirt. He had obviously been caught unprepared for the rain, his white canvas shoes were muddy and squelched with each step, but he didn't stop until he was at her desk. His hair was soaking wet and standing on end and he brushed the droplets out of his eyes with an impatient hand, inadvertently showering her in the process.

  There was no denying he was one of Royce Drummond's brothers. He had the same smoky grey eyes and finely chiselled features as her employer, but he was much thinner, almost gangly, and she didn't think he was through growing yet.

  'Ryan?' she asked, taking a wild guess.

  He grinned, nodding. 'And you have to be Jennifer. Royce told us all about you. You're everything he said—and more.' He bowed regally, but all at once he made a sudden awkward movement and jerked his hand over her desk to take one of hers, swiftly planting a wet kiss on the back of it.

  He took her so much by surprise that after a stunned moment, she wanted to burst out laughing. Controlling herself with an effort, she turned crimson.

  He must have thought she'd become enraged, because he straightened abruptly and took a quick step backward. 'Royce said to be charming.' He blinked and shifted uncomfortably, frowning. 'Didn't I do it right?'

  The laugh she was trying to hold back gurgled in her throat before spreading across her face in a wide grin. 'You did it perfectly. You're just a couple hundred years too late, that's all. Men don't kiss girls' hands any more. And they certainly don't track mud across her carpet!'

  'Royce'll kill me,' he muttered, dejectedly slumping his shoulders. 'I was supposed to make a good impression and let you see our family isn't so bad. How about if I go out and come back in and try again?'

  'I'll give you some advice, Ryan,' she said gently, trying her best not to laugh, 'in case the occasion to be charming ever comes up again. Wipe your feet if they're muddy—and as for the rest, if you just be yourself and do what comes naturally, you won't have any trouble. You were very gallant just now, but it wasn't an honest gesture.' She raised her voice a little so the man sure to be listening on the other side of the door would hear. 'Most girls appreciate honesty. They can spot a phoney a hundred yards away, and nothing turns them off faster. You'll find Royce in there.' She pointed to his office and reached for her raincoat and umbrella before leaving him, chuckling softly.

  The next morning no mention of the incident was made, but the carpet had been cleaned and she wondered how Ryan had weathered his brother's wrath. She hoped he hadn't got into too much trouble. He seemed like a nice boy. He had a likeable open manner and a very appealing smile. There was something endearing about the way he thought to be charming.

  Royce was in a good mood, although he kept her unusually busy all day. Once or twice he commented on how well they worked together in spite of their differences. In just these few short months she had come to anticipate his every thought and need. Reports from the file cabinets were ready and waiting on his desk almost before he asked for them and he let her know he appreciated it.

  When she waited for him to start his dictation that afternoon, she felt his eyes on her and when she looked up from her pad with her pencil poised, she caught a look of quiet speculation in his eyes as if he wondered if she could read his mind. Warm colour touched her face but she didn't say anything. She knew they'd never have this same rapport outside the office.

  Later that afternoon the low grey clouds disappeared and the sun began to shine when Royce was called to another department to look over a new ad layout.

  Using this time, she left her office and went to the stockroom to replenish her dwindling supplies. Her arms were piled high with typing paper, letterheads, ribbons, carbon and folders when she came back and fumbled with the firmly closed door to her office. She was sure she had left it open. Just as she had opened it again, two boys appeared from nowhere, startling her.

  'Here, let me help you.'

  'That looks heavy. Let me take these…'

  Before she could protest, each grabbed for the papers she was balancing. One began to push at the things on top while the other pulled from the bottom. Jenna, caught in the middle, lost her grip on all of it and all at once everything went flying.

  She looked at the mess scattered on the floor, then at the two who caused it. Consternation crossed her face and she started to say something, but thought better of it, clamping her mouth tightly shut in a hard thin line.

  They were twins, identical, with very dark brown hair and big blue eyes and the same sheepish expressions on their handsome faces. They weren't dressed alike. One wore navy blue cords and the other jeans, but they both had bright blue sweat shirts with the sleeves pushed back to the elbows.

  'Don't tell me,' she said at last. 'Adam and Zachary.'

  A small smile spread across one face. 'I'm Zachary.' The smile turned to a bright white grin. 'This is my brother Adam. We're pleased to meet you, Jennifer. You're everything Royce said you were.'

  Adam, being closer to her, grabbed her hand and started pumping up and down. 'We're sorry about the mess, but we'll help you pick it up.'

  'You're not trying to get water out of her!' Zachary's tone was full of exasperation as he elbowed his brother out of the way and smiled an apology. 'You'll have to forgive him. He's not so good at being charming.'

  'At least I didn't try to kiss her hand,' Adam flashed with a scathing toss of his head.

  Jenna's irritation fled as a tiny laugh stopped somewhere in the middle of her throat, coming out as a strangled cough instead. 'It's a pleasure to meet you both, I think. Why don't you have a seat in my office until your brother comes back? He's at a meeting right now.' Her expression narrowed a little. 'Or did you come to see me?'

  The boys guiltily looked at each other and just as guiltily looked away.

  'Er—we were downtown doing some shopping and thou
ght we'd see if Royce could take us home. How about if we just get to know each other until he comes back?'

  She glanced at their empty hands. 'It doesn't look as if your shopping trip was very successful.'

  'They didn't have the right size.'

  'They didn't have the right colour.'

  Both boys spoke at once and looked pained when their excuses differed.

  But Zachary was the quickest to cover up the blunder. 'We were looking for jackets. They had my size but the wrong colour. Adam found the right colour but the wrong size.'

  Jenna tilted her head to the side and looked them up and down, trying to keep her expression bland but a knowing smile danced in her eyes. 'It's too bad you couldn't have traded with each other. I thought twins were pretty much the same size.

  Adam opened his mouth to try to come up with another explanation, but Zachary immediately sent him a glowering look that told him they weren't dealing with an imbecile.

  'You've got us there,' he said softly, admitting defeat.

  Jenna got down on her hands and knees and began picking up the papers, trying to hide a wide grin. They might not think Ryan was very good at being charming, but subtlety wasn't their strong suit either. 'Put these on the desk for me, will you, Adam?' She handed him several bulky folders. 'And you, Zachary, how about picking up these ribbons?'

  When everything was piled on to her desk in a messy heap, she motioned for them to sit down and settled herself in her chair. Her curiosity was aroused and a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth, but she stayed silent, letting them make the first move.

  Shrinking in their chairs, they hung their heads as if expecting a reprimand. When none came, Zachary dared to look up through his dark lashes, but there was nothing contrite in his eyes. They were too full of mischief. Then he folded his arms across his chest and relaxed in his chair, and she knew she was in for it.