Accidental Fiancee Page 2

  Olivia had never expected to see Zachary Merit again after the evening he’d visited her parents’ home. The very next day she’d been swept up in the political whirl of her father’s quest for his party’s presidential candidacy. But this was an emergency. Last week she’d done a stupid thing, and she wanted to apologize in person. Plus, she and Zachary needed to come up with something to tell the press so they would quit dogging her to the edge of insanity. Judging by her half-witted statement, she’d stepped—rather leaped—over the edge, at least once.

  Frustrated by the tight security that surrounded Merit Island, Olivia ran a hand over her eyes. The outboard and driver she’d hired to take her to Zachary’s family home had been stopped by no less than two cabin cruisers, now looming over them like vultures. A dozen warrior-types glared down at her.

  “Look, sir,” she shouted over the roar of engines, trying to keep the tension out of her voice, “Please tell Zachary Merit that Olivia Nordstrom needs to speak with him in person. It’s urgent.”

  The head scowler spoke into a handheld mike. She couldn’t hear the response, but crossed her fingers, hoping against hope. Zachary must be furious with her for what the papers were saying. She was furious with herself, and mortified that the reporter had taken her sarcastic remark as gospel. But she’d had it up to her eyeballs with stupid questions. That dratted movie and her father’s breakneck electioneering pace clearly had gotten to her.

  One of the few times in her cloistered life she’d broken out of her Little Miss America mold to do something different, exhilarating, liberating, she would surely have died if not for Zachary Merit’s heroism. And how did she repay him? After one too many nosy newshounds demanded “the truth” about their relationship, she’d shot back that they were engaged.

  The humiliating exchange rang in her head so vividly she couldn’t keep from running it over and over, like a videotape her traitorous brain was forcing her to memorize in every painful detail.

  The journalist, if he could be called that, was a greasy-haired scandalmonger with two nose rings who sold celebrity dirt to the highest bidder. He always wore a baseball cap with Papo emblazoned on the brim, so that’s how she referred to him in her recurring murder fantasies.

  As usual, he’d been front and center in the crowd, shouting out his questions, interrupting, demanding responses, driving her batty.

  “How close is the new film to what actually happened when you were rescued in that parachute accident by Zack Merit?” he’d yelled.

  Ignoring him hadn’t worked, so she’d decided she’d better address his questions and get it over. “In some ways it’s quite accurate,” she said calmly. “It was a very dramatic rescue.”

  “In the film, a romance develops between Olivia and Zack. I take it that film was accurate in that respect, too?”

  “No—that’s pure Hollywood fiction.” She’d wanted to shout, How many times do I have to deny it? Leave me alone about Zack Merit. Yes, he’s handsome, and yes, I’m a female and I was tempted, but he never even looked at me funny. I’m not the type to attract a man like Zachary Merit. She’d managed to hold on to her smile, but with difficulty.

  “Are you sure you want to go on record that it’s total fiction?” he’d prodded with a leer. “The director insists he researched the rescue very thoroughly—and the people who saw you together said there was definite chemistry between you two. Do you deny that?”

  Whatever they might have seen was purely one-sided, her mind screamed. Zachary Merit was kind, charming and his smile would melt steel, but he was not interested! “Er—why—no, there—”

  “Why the hesitancy, Miss Nordstrom?” he’d baited. “Why not admit it? Something’s brewing between the senator’s princess and the king of wild abandon?” He poked his recorder’s microphone in her face, but when she only stared, he pulled it back to speak into it. “Be up-front, Miss Nordstrom. The likelihood of a romance between you two is real, isn’t it?”

  “I haven’t seen Zack lately, so I’d have to say no, probably—”

  “And when you do see him again?”

  The sexual innuendo was embarrassingly clear. Her patience wearing thin, she said, “Really, this is none of your business.”

  “So—you’re saying there already has been something between you two, just as the movie suggests?”

  Olivia’s pounding migraine was beating her down, and her frustration level had shot to an all-time high. Fed up, she’d retorted, “What do you want me to say? Would it satisfy you if I admit I’m madly in love with my rescuer and we’re engaged to be married? Now, please, Papo, give me a break!”

  She’d said it with such flippancy, she’d been sure the reporter would take it for the sarcasm it was. Who but a headline-hungry member of the paparazzi would take such blatant sarcasm seriously?

  After the smoke cleared from her brain, and she read those rash words in print, she’d been horrified. Olivia Nordstrom Engaged To Zachary Merit, the headline shrieked.

  Her father, Lawrence Nordstrom, his features an unhealthy shade of purple, had rattled the newspaper over his head, shouting he would commit mayhem before he or any member of his family would be connected with an idle good-for-nothing playboy who—he assured Olivia at the top of his lungs—never voted, never gave a tinker’s dam about anything or anyone but himself. Her father’s campaign was based on his up-from-poverty-I-am-the-glorious-everyman platform. He hated rich prodigals who lived useless, imprudent lives. Unfortunately that was a perfect description of Zachary Merit.

  The senator had demanded that his campaign manager, Jerry Skelton, go “handle” Mr. Merit, for essentially confirming the “revolting” engagement story by his silence. As far as her father was concerned, Zachary was a conniving snake, trying to add luster to his polluted reputation through the senator’s cultivated, refined daughter. Olivia would have disagreed if she could have gotten a word in.

  First of all, she’d been the one to announce their engagement. Second, it certainly hadn’t been Zachary’s fault, just because he’d been “unavailable for comment” that his silence had fueled speculation. Clearly he’d been out of the country somewhere, and by the time he’d even heard about it, the media hype had escalated beyond repair. His only recourse by then was to avoid the fray. She couldn’t blame him. He had to be angry with her. Why should he feel the slightest responsibility to help get her out of her own mess?

  Yet, trying to explain that to her father while he fumed and growled and paced was like trying to ward off an attacking bear by pelting it with marshmallows. At least she’d dissuaded him from sending Jerry to sort out Zachary. Jerry’s pit-bull personality would only make matters worse. No, it was her fault, she would find the courage to handle it, no matter how angry Zachary might be.

  She hated confrontations, but this had to be done, and done by her. Besides, lately Jerry had become bothersomely persistent in his amorous attentions towards her. The senator’s delight at the idea of his only daughter marrying Jerry compounded her stress. The flight from her father’s California headquarters, where she headed up his finance staff, had been a relief. Not to mention a much needed break from Jerry’s possessive—

  “Miss?”

  Olivia blinked back to a reality filled with intimidating patrol boats and uniformed troopers. She peered up at the head man, her heart shooting to her throat. “Yes?” She wouldn’t blame Zachary if he refused to see her, but she had to hope he was more forgiving than her father.

  “Mr. Merit said you could come aboard.”

  “Come—” she was confused “—aboard?”

  The man hooked a metal ladder over the side and stretched out his arm to offer her a hand. “We’ll take you to the island.”

  “But…” She glanced at her driver. “What about my boat? I hired this man.”

  The gray-clad official eyed the boat’s muscular young helmsman with a frown. “I can’t authorize the boat, miss. Just you.” Once again, he held out a hand.

  With a reluctant nod, she accepted. “Okay.” Turning to the man at the controls of the outboard, she said, “I’ll need you to wait.”

  He gave her a narrowed look. “’Fraid not, miss.” He appeared uncomfortable. In the face of all the hovering muscle, she could understand his misgivings. She wasn’t thrilled by the situation, either. “I’m sure these guys will see you get back to the mainland okay.” Without making eye contact, he turned away.

  Obviously her driver had no intention of staying, so she didn’t waste her breath pleading. Working on her nerve, she grasped the ladder and started to climb. Before she reached the top rung, the outboard was buzzing away like a scared gnat, into the setting sun. Olivia’s slim skirt and three inch heels made it difficult getting into the cruiser without landing on her head. Dressed more for the boardroom than buccaneering, she had to accept help from two brawny members of the crew.

  Ultimately she was welcomed aboard. Well, “welcomed” might be a bit of an overstatement. She was hauled on deck without a word, though she noticed a full contingent of speculative looks. It seemed, even out here on the high seas where the Merit Emerald Empire held absolute sway, news of the improbable liaison between herself and Zachary Merit had penetrated the defenses.

  During the ten-minute ride to the Merit pier, Olivia sat stiffly on a cushioned bench, fretfully scanning the island that rose and rose before them, out of the sea. A sprawling mansion at the crest of a hill caught her eye, and she stared. It wasn’t as though she’d never seen a mansion. Being the daughter of a respected United States senator, she’d been in some swanky homes, but this place…

  As daylight faded, the estate’s many windows began to glow with golden light. Standing proud and alone, the residence was both compelling and disturbing. The situation seemed surreal, as though she’d been levitated into some crazy kind of alternate universe.

  For such an imposing, unbreachable citadel, it almost seemed to welcome her. She breathed in a gulp of sea-laden air, trying to calm her nerves and get her wits about her. Welcome her, indeed! What would her reception really be? How would Zachary receive her? With a handshake or a kick in the backside? She swallowed hard, not really believing he’d do her physical harm. Still, he was so—so big. She wasn’t exactly tiny, at five-seven. And in three inch heels, she was as tall as lots of men. But Zachary was huge, broad shouldered and muscular.

  She experienced a quiver of remembered appreciation. Tall and gorgeous, and compelling and—and disturbing. She quirked a rueful grin. “Like his home,” she murmured under her breath. It would have been easy to fall for him—the daring hero who saved her life by risking his own. But he was a thrill-seeker and a lone wolf, no doubt with a half-dozen girls on the string at any one time. Besides, they had nothing in common. It had been better that her parents hustled her off to fourteen-hour workdays of raising campaign funds. It would have been foolhardy of her to harbor silly schoolgirl notions about Zachary Merit.

  The boat came to a stop. She bit her lip, apprehensive about what the next few minutes would bring.

  “Miss?” The officer in charge offered her a hand. “Mr. Merit is waiting for you.”

  Her heart performed an unruly two-step as she stood and cast an anxious glance along the dock. When she failed to spot him, she looked at the officer. “Where?”

  The man in gray escorted her to the side and helped her onto the pier. “Beyond the boathouse, I believe.”

  She nodded, stifling the urge to ask, “With a baseball bat?”

  Once on the dock, she straightened her skirt and readjusted her handbag strap on her shoulder. Clambering on and off cabin cruisers in a slender-fitting linen suit was difficult to do with grace. If Zachary watched her disembark she had to assume he was enjoying a hearty chuckle about now.

  Angling her chin high, she marched along the wharf past several other cruisers. Ahead she noted an attractive building, which must have been the boathouse, though it looked more like an oversized cottage, complete with artful landscaping, blossoming plants and flowers.

  The wooden dock ended and a stone path took its place. Olivia’s heart raced as she stepped down onto a walkway that meandered around a corner. Her heart thumping in her ears, she headed into the unknown. Not many steps later, she almost slammed into a towering male blockade in brown shorts and a green polo shirt. Though she’d been warned he was in the vicinity, and had expected him, she shrieked, stumbling a step backward.

  Pressing her hands to her heart, she tried to breathe, managing strangled little gasps. What was the matter with her? It was only Zachary Merit. He wasn’t wielding a bat, and he didn’t even look like he’d done any frothing at the mouth.

  Lounging against the boathouse, he folded his arms loosely across his broad chest as he surveyed her with shuttered eyes. His silent inspection went on for an interminable couple of pulse beats before one dark eyebrow rose. “Hi, honey,” he said, without the hint of a smile. “Have a rough day at the office?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  OLIVIA’S startled reaction surprised Zack. For a woman who’d jumped out of an airplane, she was pretty nervous about walking around corners. He wondered how she managed to get from her office to her father’s without having a full-blown panic attack.

  He watched as she gathered her poise. Maybe it was the fiery sunset behind her, but her straight black hair seemed to have a coppery radiance about it. Her skin looked pale. Too pale. Back-lit the way she was, the honey-brown eyes he remembered as huge looked black as pitch. She seemed thinner and looked tired. Maybe it was the dying day throwing him a visual curve. Or maybe Olivia Nordstrom wasn’t feeling well. His annoyance abated slightly as he observed her take another shuddery breath.

  “Oh…” she presented him with one of the weakest smiles he’d ever seen. “I—you startled me.”

  He pushed away from the boathouse wall. “Then, I’m glad I changed my mind at the last minute and didn’t jump out and shout ‘boo.”’

  Her smile twitched, but grew no stronger. She was either very tired, very nervous, or both. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “How did you find me?”

  She cleared her throat. “Oh—I knew about your family and the island, the emerald business and all, so I took a shot.”

  “I see.” Of course, she would have had no way of knowing he’d been estranged from his family for two decades. A week ago, he would have sworn the likelihood of ever finding him on Merit Island would have been nil. How ironic that he owed his presence here to none other than Olivia Nordstrom, herself. His ire surged, but he hid it. “What can I do for you, Miss Nordstrom?”

  “Please, call me Liv,” she said. “I think saving my life gives you that right.”

  He slashed a cynical grin. “Being your fiancé doesn’t count?”

  She winced at his taunt. “Oh—I—well…”

  He shrugged. “Never mind—what can I do for you…Liv?”

  Her gaze darted away from his face, ricocheted off the boathouse, then pinged up to the mansion. She blinked several times, her fingers lacing and relacing. “I—first…” She slid her attention back to him, and he sensed the move had taken extreme effort. “I want to apologize for the—the engagement thing.”

  “Ah, yes.” He fought a renewed surge of irritation. “I seem to remember reading something about that in a few newspapers.” He lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Imagine my glee.”

  She swallowed visibly, thrusting a hand through her glossy hair. Zack bet it felt like silk. The odd thought startled him at first; then he decided it wasn’t that odd. After all, Olivia Nordstrom was pretty. A pretty woman, two or three years out of college, from a prominent family. Zack would wager his racing sponsors he wasn’t the first male to notice her—and be interested.

  But he was no fool. He was thirty-seven, a vagabond who made a fair living at the moment racing boats. In the long run, that didn’t mean much to women. They wanted to believe there was more potential for permanence in their men than his lifestyle exhibited—both emotional and physical. What he did was exciting and dangerous, so women seemed to find him exciting and dangerous. And temporary.

  Olivia sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “That remark about our engagement was stupid,” she admitted. “I was being flip. That reporter had been driving me nutty with his everlasting inquisition about our relationship, and I just—I just…snapped.” She peered at him from beneath her lashes, looking guilt-ridden. “I never—never in a trillion years—thought he’d take me seriously. I’m truly sorry.” She grasped her skinny handbag strap with both fists. “My father’s furious with me.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Zack said. “I’m not exactly the poster boy for ideal son-in-law of conservative presidential hopefuls.”

  “Hardly,” she said, then made a pained face. “Oh—I didn’t mean, er…”

  He couldn’t suppress an ironic chuckle.

  She lifted her glance to his face, appearing both surprised and alarmed.

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Liv. My hide’s tough. I’m hardly bleeding.”

  She ran her knuckles across her lips, appearing weary and frustrated. “Zachary,” she said. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go.” She inhaled, looking as though she was working on her resolve. “Could we start over? Why don’t you ask me why I’m here?”

  He peered at her. “Okay.” He didn’t know why, but he extended a hand. “Hello, Miss Nordstrom.” He paused, and the silence grew deafening.

  He could tell when she finally grasped what he was waiting for because she jumped, unclenched a fist from around her handbag strap and slid her fingers into his. They were cold and trembly. “Hello, Mr. Merit.” She sounded more confident than her shaky hand indicated.

  His anger slipped a cog, but only one. He squeezed her fingers for a second, then released her. “What can I do for you?” he repeated.