A Convenient Proposal

Chapter Two

Crouched within biting distance, hackles raised, teeth bared, the black-and-brown collie mix made no sound, not even a growl. But the grim look in his eyes promised attack.

Pressed against the wall of the screened porch, Griff cleared his throat. “Arden? A little help here?”

She took hold of the dog’s collar. “What in the world is wrong with you, Igor? Is this how you say welcome home?”

Igor waved his fluffy tail back and forth. But he didn’t change his stance, and his glare stayed on Griff.

“I don’t usually get this reaction,” he said quietly. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him behave this way. Then again, I haven’t seen him with another person since I took him from the shelter.” Shaking her head, Arden started backing up, holding on to the dog. “I’ll put him away.”

“No, wait. Let’s see if we can call a truce first. He’s a rescue?”

She nodded.

“Let me guess…his owner was a guy?”

“Yes.”

“Abusive, probably.” Griff relaxed slightly. “Igor might think all men are out to hurt him.”

“That could be true.” She went down on her knees beside the dog and put her arm around his neck. “It’s okay, Igor. Griff won’t hurt you. He likes dogs.”

“I don’t like dogs that bite.” But he said the words in a pleasant, nonthreatening tone. “I didn’t hear him barking as we came up. I would have been better prepared.”

“He doesn’t bark. His larynx has been removed. He ‘barked too much.’” Her tone made the words a quotation.

“The bastard. Sometimes I’m ashamed to be human.” Moving slowly, Griff sank into a squat. “Right now, I’m ashamed to be a veterinarian.”

Arden nodded. “I know what you mean.” At the sound of her calm voice, Igor lowered his hackles a fraction. “Should I leave, do you think? Will he be worse or better with me here?”

Griff ran his gaze over her, from her sleek black hair to the tips of her pink-polished toes. “You won’t be able to stop him, whatever he decides to do. Maybe without you to protect, he’ll calm down.”

“Okay.” She petted the dog again, then straightened up and retreated toward the house. When Igor didn’t move, she gave Griff a smile and a thumbs-up, then stepped inside and closed the door.

Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Griff made his posture as unthreatening as possible. He didn’t want to sleep on the concrete floor of the porch, and the wicker chairs and love seat all looked creaky. The dog would have to let him into the house.

“Good boy, Igor. Let’s be cool, okay?” He lowered his hands to hang between his knees, in full sight. “Sounds like you’re a good dog. I used to be a good dog. And I guess I’m going home to be a good dog again. So we’re going to be good dogs together, all right?”

As far as Igor was concerned, he might have been saying, “Blah-blah-blah.” The tone mattered, though, and Griff kept it calm. “That’s it,” he said, as Igor’s lips lowered to cover his teeth. “No threat here. Just two good dogs, hanging out.”

Pottery and metal clinked inside the house, and the aroma of coffee soon filled the air. Step by step, Igor drew closer to Griff, who stayed motionless as the dog reached out to sniff at his toes, his fingers, his wrists.

“Good boy.” He lifted a finger to stroke the floppy ear.

Igor scooted backward. His upper lip curled again, revealing those bright white canines.

“Bad boy,” Griff told himself. “At this rate, the floor’s beginning to look pretty good.” The dizziness had evolved into a headache. His eyes burned and his stomach growled. “Terrific. I’m getting to enjoy the hangover without waiting for the morning after.”

“This will help.” Arden stepped forward and set a cup of coffee on a nearby table, along with three white pills. “I’m going to put Igor in the bedroom. Then you can come in and sleep on the couch.”

“That’s one way to protect your virtue,” Griff muttered as she led the dog away. “I’ll never get past Igor the man-eater.”

Not that he had any inclination to ravish the fair maiden. At this point, he could generate sufficient passion for only one pursuit—sleep.

After swallowing the aspirin, he left the mug of coffee half-finished and followed his desire onto the cushions of the gray leather couch in the living room. A pillow covered in soft pink cradled his head and a blanket in the same shade warmed his legs and shoulders.

Should’ve brushed off my feet, he thought hazily. Sand everywhere…

I wouldn’t dread going home, if she came with me….



ARDEN RETURNED to the living room to find her stranger passed out again, on the couch this time. There would be sand everywhere, but vacuum cleaners existed for just that reason. In the morning they’d clean up the mess, have some breakfast, then she’d point him toward the pier and send him on his way. No sense in recalling the craziness they’d talked about. He’d already forgotten.

And she would, in time. She and Igor were quite satisfied with their routine here on Chaos Key, just the two of them. Water and sun and sand, an occasional trip to the mainland and, always, the sound of the waves on the shore—the only music she wanted now, the last music she would know. The last sound of any kind.

Bringing up a baby would only complicate her life. A child needed experiences, people and places Arden had determined to avoid. She could have one or the other. Not both.

Let that dream go. She settled into her bed with Igor curled up against the backs of her knees, a little more tensely than usual. You chose this path. Now honor it.

A strangled snore reached her from the living room, and Arden sighed. Letting go would have been much easier only a day ago. Even an hour ago.

Last year, that would be. Before she’d met Griff Campbell.



HE WAS STILL ASLEEP, with the pillow over his head and the rest of him covered by the blanket, when she got up at seven. He’d roused at some point, because the coffee mug she’d given him had been emptied and set in the sink. Would a single cup be sufficient to ward off the headache he’d earned?

Arden made a fresh pot, gave Igor his breakfast and took her own mug out to the porch, where she usually spent her mornings. No doubt the smell of coffee would awaken her guest soon enough.

When an hour had passed and the growling in her stomach had begun to make Igor nervous, she went back to the kitchen for breakfast. She finished off her bowl of yogurt with nuts and honey, and Griff still hadn’t stirred. Igor now sat beside the porch door, anxious for their daily walk on the beach.

Arden hesitated, then stepped outside and let the screened door slap shut behind her. This was one reason she didn’t want a man in her life, let alone a husband. A woman in a relationship had to cater to his demands, his expectations and his schedule. His plans and his goals would take over, while what she wanted and needed drifted away like a leaf on the ocean. Arden had never met a male of the species who didn’t think of himself first.

Walking the beach under a bright blue sky and throwing a piece of driftwood for Igor to retrieve, she saw no reason to revoke her decision. The only thing she wanted from anyone these days, especially men, was distance—even a man as seductive and engaging as Griff. Or maybe especially one as seductive and engaging as Griff.

But would there really be a drawback to doing him the favor he asked? To judge by his attitude, he still had feelings for his ex-fiancée, which would surely minimize any complications. Arden didn’t doubt she could keep her own emotions under control—between them, her father and her ex-fiancé had demonstrated the utter faithlessness of men. Not only were they too much trouble, they couldn’t be trusted any farther than you could throw them.

But a baby…ah, a baby would give her a reason to live. A child—boy or girl, it didn’t matter—would be all she could ask as a replacement for the loss of her hopes and dreams. A year ago, her belly had just started to become rounded when her entire world came crashing down. No more music, no marriage, no connection with her mother. And no baby.

Now Griff offered her a second chance. And though she could afford artificial insemination, she preferred the old-fashioned method of procreation, especially with Griff Campbell as the official candidate—a man who, to her surprise, she liked and desired. If she agreed to his proposal, he could keep his pride intact and she would get the family she’d always wanted.

What do I have to lose?

The answer struck her like a slap in the face. By connecting so intimately with Griff Campbell, she would give away the independence she’d waited so long to enjoy. The solitude she valued. The anonymity required to cope with her new life.

“Good morning!”

She turned at the call to see him sauntering over the sand in her direction. He had a lazy way of walking, with a little bit of a slouch to his lean body, completely at odds with the energy she could see in his bright blue eyes. Though he wore the same clothes as last night, he looked neat and presentable. And far too appealing to resist.

“Good morning,” he said again. “Sorry to be such a lazybones. That couch of yours is way too comfortable.”

“Not a problem,” she lied. Seeing him again awakened all her anxieties, as well as her yearnings. “Igor and I just followed our usual schedule.”

“Stick chasing is a great way to start the day.” Griff stretched down a hand to Igor, who had parked himself, stick in mouth, at her feet. “Want me to throw for you, son?”

Igor bared his teeth.

Griff straightened up. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”

Arden stopped herself from apologizing. “Are you feeling okay? No hangover?” No memory of the crazy plan we talked about last night?

“Nope. You make great coffee. The perfect antidote for the morning after.” His grin revealed even white teeth and showed off the lips she remembered tasting last night.

“Well, you must be starving. Let’s go back to the house and I’ll make some eggs and toast. I don’t have bacon, I’m afraid.”

He held up a hand. “Not necessary. I saw you had some yogurt in the fridge, so I added nuts and honey and made a meal. Couldn’t do much about my clothes except shake them out, but I did borrow a towel and take a shower.” He scratched his fingers over his stubbly chin. “Not your razor, though. I look pretty rough.”

“Oh. Well…well, good.” Stunned by the idea of a man who ate yogurt and didn’t steal her razor, Arden started up the beach toward the cottage path. “You’re planning to fly back to Georgia today, is that right? From Miami?” The sooner he left, the better. Even more than last night’s drunk, this morning’s version tempted her into fantasies that would destroy her peace of mind. “I was. My flight left—” he squinted at his watch as they stepped under the palms at the start of the trail “—twelve minutes ago.”

She walked ahead of him, preparing herself for the worst. “What will you do now?”

“That,” Griff said, “is what we have to talk about.”



THE SILENCE IN PLACE OF her reply said all Griff needed to know. Arden had reconsidered last night’s agreement and wanted to back out. As a gentleman, he should allow her that option.

But he simply didn’t want to. Standing in her neat little cottage, holding a cup of coffee to fight the headache he’d pretended he didn’t have, Griff decided he wasn’t ready to let this woman escape so soon.

She faced him from the other end of the kitchen, standing with her back to the window above the sink, which left her face shadowed. Now that he could see her in daylight, he recognized shadows in her eyes, too. The lady owned a troubled past.

He leaned a hip against the counter and took a long draw from his mug. “I gave you the high points of my life last night—or low points, depending on your perspective. You’ve got some mystery going on, though, and I’m curious. Are you on vacation down here, escaping the cold and snow up north with a few weeks in the Florida sun?”

She sipped from a delicate china cup. “I’ve lived here full time for the last year.”

“Alone?”

“I have Igor for company.” She’d left the dog outside when they came in.

Griff was grateful to be free of the canine’s disapproval, at least temporarily. “So this is your own private piece of Florida?”

After a pause, she shook her head. “The island belongs to…a friend of mine. I’m the—the caretaker.”

“You’re here to keep an eye on the place, chase off trespassers, that sort of thing?”

“Exactly that sort of thing.” She frowned into her coffee. “Obviously, I need more practice at the chasing off trespassers part of the job description.”

He didn’t believe her, but he let the lie pass. “My mother always said I was obstinate.”

“I believe that.”

“Good. Because I’m asking you again this morning if you’ll come back to Sheridan with me and pretend to be my girlfriend for a couple months.”

Now she frowned directly at him. “It’s a ridiculous idea.”

“For that reason alone, it’ll work. Nobody would expect me to do something so…so—”

“Ridiculous.”

“I was trying for a synonym. But okay. People won’t be looking beyond how beautiful you are and how lucky I am. That’s all I ask—the chance to ease back into my life without a bunch of fanfare. You can make that possible.”

She gazed at him for a long moment, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking until she said, “And in return you’ll give me a baby?”

Griff swallowed hard. “I can do my best. There aren’t any guarantees on that kind of thing.” Boy, could he do his best. He’d be more than willing to make love to her morning, noon and night, given the opportunity.

The baby part, he wasn’t nearly so sure about. His head wasn’t clear enough to consider the inevitable complications.

Still, how many couples actually got pregnant right away? Most of the time it was months before a woman conceived, if not years. He could even do a little cheating, figure out her monthly cycle and avoid the most dangerous times…if things got that far.

“What do you think?” Setting his mug down, he crossed to stand in front of her in the narrow aisle. “Anything I can do to help you decide?” Watching her stormy eyes, he removed the cup from her hands and put it gently on the counter. “For instance, just in case you thought last night was a figment of your imagination…”

Propping his hands on the sink rim behind her slim waist, Griff lowered his head to kiss her again. She was shorter than he’d realized last night on the beach.

Her lips were just as smooth, though, her taste every bit as potent. Forget champagne…he’d be more than satisfied to sip this ripe, mellow flavor over and over again.

She gave a little moan and slid her arms around his neck. He caught a whiff of scent from her skin, as clean and clear as the sea itself. The kisses went on and on, deeper, wilder, while her breasts nestled against his chest and her bare knees hugged one of his. A wave of lust broke over Griff. He was desperate, drowning, totally aroused and barely hanging on to the edge of sanity…and the kitchen counter.

With a gasp, he dragged his mouth free and set his chin on top of her head. “Um, yeah…I think that answered all my questions.” He blew out a breath, took another one. “What do you say? Are you coming with me to Georgia?”

Stepping back, he eased his knee away from the provocation of hers, then blinked a couple of times to bring his eyes into focus.

Her perfect cameo face looked as befuddled as he felt. Her troubled green-gray eyes were the color of the ocean just before rain starts to fall. He saw need and pain and doubt chase like lightning across that horizon.

“Come with me,” he urged. “You’ve got Igor to keep me in line.”

The mischievous delight in her smile socked him right in the gut. “True.” She hesitated a moment longer…or was it a lifetime?

“Okay,” Arden said, finally. “Give me an hour to pack.”



“YOU PACK FASTER THAN any woman I know.”

Arden eyed him with amusement as she carried her bag into the living room. “Are we talking about vast numbers?”

Griff grinned. “Three sisters and two grandmothers, one mom, assorted cousins. And the ex-fiancée who brought her entire wardrobe every time she visited me at school.”

Arden picked up the dog’s bowls and went to the kitchen sink to wash them. “Plus assorted friends, I imagine.” Her emphasis on “friends” gave the word a different meaning.

He waggled a flattened hand. “Maybe one or two. That’s ample, if not strictly vast.”

“You’re right.” The bowls went into a duffel bag along with a small bag of food and a liter bottle of water. The dog’s suitcase, Griff assumed. “I don’t keep all my clothes here on the island. I’ll need to stop in Miami to pick up a few more things.” With her duffel in one hand and Igor’s in the other, she stopped in front of Griff. “Will that lump me in with the rest of your women?”

He stared down at her a moment, considering the question. “No,” he said at last, moving to close the door behind them. “No, I think you’re in a class all by yourself.”

At that, the bags thudded down on the porch’s cement floor. She whirled to glare at him. “There are rules to this arrangement,” she said in a stern voice. “We both have to remember them.”

Griff crossed his arms and braced his shoulders against the door. “Rules?”

She held up one finger. “This is a business deal, not a romance.”

“Okay.” He had to agree. She wouldn’t come, otherwise.

The second finger came up. “This engagement exists in public only. When we’re alone, we don’t need to maintain displays of affection.”

“No?” He shrugged, looking at the bead board ceiling. “Then you won’t be getting pregnant.”

“That is part of the contract.” The squeak in her voice told him more than she would want him to know.

Griff lowered his eyes to meet her gaze. “Last I knew, getting pregnant required a certain level of, uh, affectionate display.”

She actually stood there pondering the issue, while he did his best to hide a smile.

“Well, yes,” she finally agreed. “But it’s just sex. No…no—”

“Feelings?” What in the hell was just sex?

“Emotions,” she corrected. “No emotions involved. We’re not planning a life together. This is strictly an engagement of convenience.”

“Right.” He lowered the shades on the porch and held the door for her to exit. Her “rules” sent a chill down his spine. But he’d worry about that after they got past the first hurdle—meeting his family.

As they walked along the path to the other side of the island, Igor darted into the brush under the tall trees, always checking back after a few moments to be sure they hadn’t gotten lost. At least for now, he didn’t seem to object to another male’s presence on the journey.

“Does your friend who owns the island come down fairly often?” Griff slipped his fingers into the handle of her heavier bag. After a short tussle, she conceded and let him carry it.

“Never. The main house is old and falling apart. Only the cottage is livable, but it’s not big enough for more than two people.”

“So your friend has a family?”

An annoyed glance flashed his way. “You’re being nosy, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head to the side. “I call it making polite conversation.”

“The kind I—your adoring fiancée—will have to parry at all these parties we’ll be attending?”

“Exactly.”

She nodded. “I’ll be prepared.”

But she hadn’t, he noticed, answered the question.

As the path led them past the ruined glory of the island mansion, Griff stopped for a moment to stare. “That place doesn’t need a caretaker—it wouldn’t provide shelter for a drenched rat. So why does your friend want someone living on this pile of sand?”

“I think I told you last night—to warn strangers away. To watch out for the wildlife, pick up trash and take care of the cottage. That sort of thing.”

From the high point where the house stood, the path began a gentle slope down toward the water. Griff cupped his free hand loosely around Arden’s elbow, just in case.

“Considering I didn’t see a trace of you until I’d been here several hours,” he said, “and then you let me spend the night, I have to say I’m wondering about your job performance.”

During the long pause following his comment, they stepped out from under the trees onto the beach, barely a hundred yards from the dock where his rented speedboat bobbed on the waves.

Then Arden put the dog’s bag on the ground, unzipped a pocket on the side and withdrew a cell phone, which she held up in front of his face. “My performance, as you put it, consists of calling the police. I didn’t expect to have visitors after dark last night, so I didn’t take the phone with me to watch the fireworks. Most people come during the day to sunbathe and swim.”

Griff raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Drug runners and smugglers might appreciate having a base on a small, out-of-the-way place like this. And they like working in the dark.”

“That’s why the Coast Guard patrols at random times every day. That’s why there are motion detectors posted in the ruins and throughout the woods, linked to a monitoring system in the cottage and an alarm on the mainland. I don’t know how you bypassed them.”

“Beginner’s luck—I walked along the shore. Your friend must have deep pockets.”

“Plus…” Ignoring his comment, she bent to Igor’s kit again, and this time came up with a shiny, businesslike pistol. “I do know how to use this, should the occasion arise.”

“Whoa. That’s not your standard hunting rifle.” He held his hands in the air as he backed up a step. “You didn’t have that at the beach last night, either. Did you bring it along today in case Igor couldn’t keep me under control?”

“I thought I would put it in storage while I traveled. There’s no sense leaving a weapon for someone to find.”

“Good point.” Griff blew out a long breath. “You’re quite a puzzle, Arden Burke. And very good at avoiding questions.”

She gave him a serene smile, then bent to replace the pistol and close the zipper. “I think I’ve just given you quite a lot of information. Besides, I should be asking the questions, since I’m supposed to know you well enough to want to marry you. For instance, can I trust you to pilot us to the mainland without sinking? How long have you been driving boats?”

“Hah.” Grabbing up the dog’s bag, he started toward the dock, leaving her to follow empty-handed. “I’ve been fooling around with boats since I was ten, maybe even younger. We have a summer place at Lake Lanier, and we always had ski boats.”

He climbed onto the prow of the speedboat and transferred her bags into the bottom, then pulled the small craft sideways against the pier. “Does Igor need help?”

Arden shook her head. “Igor, jump.” She pointed at the boat. “Let’s go.”

The dog gave her a skeptical look, but after a moment of hesitation, he hopped in.

“Good boy,” she told him. “Good dog.”

Griff held up a hand. “Your turn.”

The boat dipped and rose slightly with the waves washing into shore, but Arden boarded gracefully, with just the slightest dependence on his hand for balance.

“I’ve never known anybody so good at changing the subject,” he declared. “Will I ever get a straight answer from you on a personal question?”

“That’s another rule. No prying.” She unrolled a broad-brimmed hat and set it on her head, then took a seat at the bow, next to the dog. “Now, are you planning to bring the dock with us, or shall we untie the rope before you turn on the engine?”