HisMarriageBargain (10 page)

“Maybe.” Maybe it was time to admit defeat here.

Why was she getting so worked up over this? It was insane.

“Come here.” He stood, leaving her no choice but to follow
his example. He led her out onto an empty patio. They hadn’t come during the
height of the tourist season, which meant the resort, restaurants and
attractions were operating at less than capacity.

She breathed deeply of the evening air, perfumed by the
blossoms planted around the railing and the sea breeze. A tightness
constricting her chest eased and she felt a little relief.

Autumn crossed to the edge of the patio and stared off
toward the beach, which was a dark line now the sun had set.

Sammi slid his hands up and down her arms, a comforting
presence at her back. He didn’t speak for several moments, but she didn’t know
how to explain her reaction.

“You looked like you were about to have a panic attack. Feel
better?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She turned to face him.

“Can you tell me what’s going on, Sunshine?” His brow
creased, his concern comforting.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Try?”

She glanced over his shoulder and found a table of four
women with sour expressions on their faces watching them. Their distaste for
her couldn’t be more apparent.

“I don’t belong here.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“What?” One side of his face scrunched up. He just didn’t
get it.

“Look at me.” She spread her arms. “To these people I’m
white trash. I don’t dress like them, talk like them or act like them, and even
our waiter can see it. He hasn’t acknowledged I’m there. These people think I’m
a whore you brought here with you for a good weekend.” She’d had offers like
that before, but her self-respect had always made her turn them down. There
were things she wouldn’t do, not many, and that was one.

Sammi opened his mouth and closed it.

He was a great guy, but there were some differences between
them they wouldn’t be able to fix before their time was up. Maybe it would be
better if he went out with his other friends and came home to her. The idea
hurt her, but this wasn’t about her. The deal they’d struck was for him. It was
her fault she attached to people so easily.

Sammi glanced over his shoulder and his gaze instantly
snagged on the table of female observers. One had the audacity to bat her fake
eyelashes at him and smile. Autumn wanted to rip the hussies’ hair extensions
out.

He turned back to her, lines around his mouth.

“Okay, I get it, but I don’t agree with it. Who the fuck
cares what you look like? Our money is just as good as anyone else’s.”

Autumn’s heart warmed a little. “I don’t know, I’m just—I
want to leave. I’m sorry.”

Sammi studied her, his gaze revealing none of his thoughts.
“What if we ate out here and asked them to close the doors? I’ll get us a
different waiter. I don’t give a fuck, but I don’t want you to feel like you have
to leave because of other people’s shitty attitudes.”

Something in her chest curled in on itself. Her behavior was
cowardly and she hated it. She inhaled a slow, deep breath. “Okay.”

Sammi cupped her face and pressed a quick kiss to her lips
before turning on his heel and marching back inside. The waiter was bringing
out their salads at the same moment.

Autumn bit her lip, now exposed to all the stares on her
own. She turned back to peer at the ocean and swiped a hand over her cheeks.

Maybe she couldn’t do this, not for real. Sammi wanted a
companion to the end, maybe what he needed were a few friends. Isaac and Ester
could do fancy things with him, and she could what? Warm his bed? Get an
occasional quick bite to eat with him?

Perhaps this was a mistake after all.

Sammi found the maître d’ at the front of the restaurant,
greeting a well-dressed party.

This was his fault. Sammi kicked himself for not taking into
consideration that, even though they were on vacation, people were still
judgmental assholes.

The maître d’ fluidly handed off the party to a host who led
them away to be seated before turning to Sammi. “May I help you, sir?”

“Yes. My wife and I were just married—”

“Congratulations.” The man had seated them, knew what Autumn
looked like and still his tone was genuine. Sammi decided he liked the maître
d’ on the spot.

“Thank you. What was your name?”

The maître d’ blinked. “Howard Fugelsag, sir.”

“That is an impressive last name.”

Howard broke the professional serenity and grinned. “It’s a
mouthful. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Okay, Howard, this is an odd request. My wife is
uncomfortable in the main seating area.”

“The lady with the tattoos and lovely smile?”

“Yes. Do you suppose we could sit on the patio, make it
private, kind of romantic?”

Howard nodded but didn’t reply immediately. “I believe so.”
He turned to the hostess at the front and gestured for her to join them.
“Ginger, grab the lanterns in the closet and two other people to help you light
them. Get one of the carts and have the bus team meet me on the patio in five
minutes.”

Ginger nodded and took off at a dignified jog.

“Thank you for doing this. I’m willing to pay for it—”

“No need, sir. We strive to deliver the best experience to
all of our guests.”

Somehow Sammi doubted that, but he was appreciative anyways.

“Thank you.” He shook Howard’s hand and left him to the
hurried preparations.

Sammi headed back to the patio. He could see Autumn through
the windows, her hair blowing gently on the breeze, elbows on the railing.
Colorful tattoos ran across her back and down her arms. She’d taught him
something in the short time they’d been married. He’d never look at people the
same.

“Excuse me?” A woman with a short blonde bob, whom he
recognized as being one of the four voyeurs, stepped into his path.

He stopped short, blinking at the woman who didn’t even come
up to his chin with the heels. “Yes?”

“Are you Sammi Zimmerman?” She leaned toward him, fluttering
her eyelashes a bit.

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“I thought it was you.” She patted his shoulder and smiled.
He’d seen the same expression on a snake once. He hadn’t liked it.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” There was a long line of women
in his past, but he’d never been fond of the short ones. He liked a woman he
could look in the eyes.

“Oh, we partied together a few times in Miami. I’m Tiffany.”
She offered her hand as though he was supposed to kiss it. He shook it instead.

“Crazy running into you again, Tiffany.” He mentally ran
through his past traveling experiences. Miami?

“We were bound to. People like us always run in the same
circles. I was just having dinner with my girlfriends. Would you like to join
us?” Tiffany gestured to the table of other women, all smiling like predators.

“I’m sorry, I’m actually having dinner with my wife. It’s
our honeymoon. Maybe another time?”

Like, never?

“Your wife?” Tiffany’s jaw dropped and she glanced from
Autumn to him, clearly aghast.

Autumn had turned and was watching them, her mouth
compressed in a tight line.

Shit.

“Yeah, we actually got married just a few days ago.” He
couldn’t resist adding that. Whatever Tiffany had plotted out before speaking
to him would be moot now.

The hostess passed him followed by Howard with a cart full
of glowing candles.

That was his escape.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my wife.” Sammi
smiled at them even though it made him feel dirty and headed out to the patio.

Autumn glanced at the candles being set up along the rail,
on tables, everywhere, and back to him.

“Hey, Howard?” Sammi said.

“Yes sir?”

“Do you think we could get some privacy?” He thumbed at the
table behind him, using his body as a shield.

“Right away.” Howard went to a closet on the exterior of the
building and with the help of a server pulled out a six-foot folding screen. It
unfolded like an accordion. Another followed it until there was a private,
shielded alcove created just for them.

“Sammi, what are you doing?” Autumn whispered.

He put his arm around her. “We’re going to have a beautiful
dinner, just the two of us.”

“What was that in there?” Her gaze narrowed.

“That was a gold digger. Tiffany,” he said her name, voice
dripping with disdain, “says we partied together. She’s not my type, by the
way. I’ve only been to Miami once, which is where she claims we met. My layover
at the airport wasn’t long enough to get a cocktail, much less party. Forget
them. This is about us enjoying ourselves.”

Autumn just stared at him, which was almost comical, but he
knew better than to laugh right now.

Howard and his team transformed the patio in a matter of
minutes. The other tables were rearranged to leave theirs plenty of space. It
was set with china and decorated with candles and a bouquet of white lilies. It
was simple and elegant.

The maître d’ bowed. “Ma’am, may I congratulate you on your
wedding?”

Autumn glanced between them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll be back in a
few moments to take your order personally.” Howard inclined his head and smiled
at them before pivoting and walking away to tend to business elsewhere.

Sammi placed his hand at the small of her back and gestured
toward the table. “Come on, Sunshine.”

Autumn hesitated, but capitulated to his wishes. She let him
escort her to her seat, pull the chair out for her and push it in as she sat.
He circled and took his seat across from her.

“What just happened?” Autumn’s face was creased, a frown
marring her typically cheerful expression.

“I moved heaven and earth for this dinner. Now I’d like you
to enjoy it.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

He reached across the table and took her hand, his gaze
serious. “I know, but what matters is that I want you to be comfortable and
happy.”

Autumn finally smiled, a little of herself blossoming.
“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now what do you want to eat?” He picked up
the menus and handed one to her, the mood considerably lighter.

Dimple Piercings—Stud piercings that are placed in the
natural crease of a person’s dimples.

Autumn slid her feet out of her sandals and stepped off the
sidewalk and into the sand. She wiggled her toes, cold, coarse grains rubbing
between them.

She started to walk toward the ocean. At this time of night
there were only a few people not inside at the resort’s restaurants or clubs.
It was almost like having the entire stretch of sand to herself. Except for the
couple making out and a group of teenagers tossing a volleyball back and forth.

It was quiet, tranquil, which was what she needed.

After the incredibly sweet dinner, Sammi had fallen asleep.
It wasn’t surprising given how they’d kept a steady pace since the
wedding—snorkeling, boat tours—but neither had he experienced any weakness or
sickness, so there was a small blessing.

Besides, she needed time to process. She’d let herself get
wrapped up in the excitement of the wedding, the exotic location and
experiencing new things. She’d touched some kind of stingray when they’d gone
snorkeling. It was amazing. But this trip would last only two more days.
Tomorrow they were going out on another boat, this time to watch professional cliff
jumpers, and then Sunday they would leave. By Monday they’d be back in the real
world, a place that might not welcome her with open arms.

The girls would be pissed. Mary and Kellie were going to tan
her hide, but she’d gotten out of worse scrapes with them before, so she hoped
they’d understand. She’d need their support more than anything if what Sammi
predicted would be true.

Death wasn’t something she was adept at handling. Shit.
She’d never been close to anyone who’d kicked the bucket. There were things in
her future she had no idea how to handle.

Her heart beat painfully at the thought of Sammi’s death.
She put her hand against her chest and breathed deep.

Fuck.

Sammi was in her heart already.

She’d known it would happen. She’d secretly wanted him. Now
that she had him, knew the reality of how good he was, how honest and caring he
could be under the playboy front, she would fall in love with him. It was
inevitable. And he’d break her heart.

“Autumn?”

Autumn turned and squinted at the silhouette of a woman
dressed in an ankle-length dress. “Rebekah?”

“Hi.” Rebekah stepped off the sidewalk and picked her way
across the sand to her. “How are you doing? I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all. I’m good. Still having a good time? Where’s
your husband?” Autumn glanced around for the rabbi but didn’t see him.

“He’s doing some work.” Rebekah came to a stop a few feet
away. “What are you doing out here?”

“Sammi needed to sleep, so I figured either I try to be
quiet and wake him up eventually or I take a walk.” Autumn shrugged. “I opted
for a walk.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. Please.” Autumn found herself pleasantly
content with her company as they turned to stroll down the sand. They were
worlds apart, the tattoo artist and rabbi’s wife, but Autumn liked her.
Something about the way the woman looked at her and really saw a person and not
just what she presented.

“How is Sammi doing, if I may ask?” Rebekah clasped her
hands behind her back and tipped her chin up. The sea breeze tossed her long,
dark tresses.

“Please, ask away. He’s doing really well. I thought he’d
need to take more naps, maybe get a little sick here and there, but after that
first day it’s like he’s just getting better and better.” His color and
appetite had improved tremendously. He was just exhausted after doing so much.
Maybe it was the tropical climate?

“I’m glad. How much longer are you here?”

“Just ’til Sunday, so really just tomorrow. How about you?”

“Three more days, then the vacation ends.” Rebekah glanced
at her, a smile pulling up at the corners of her mouth.

Autumn wished there had been more time to get to know the
woman. Her quiet presence, the way she watched others and gently offered
suggestions spoke of someone with deep insight. The kind Autumn didn’t have and
would like to understand.

“Tell me about it.” Autumn groaned at the line of
conversation that mimicked her earlier thoughts so well.

They walked for a few yards in silence, broken only by the
wind in the trees and the crashing of the waves.

“This may not be my place to say, but I think you have a
great heart for Sammi and I want you to be prepared.” Rebekah stopped walking
and Autumn turned to face her.

“Huh?”

“My husband and I are Reform Jews. Compared to traditional
Jews we’re very forward-thinking and open-minded, but to the rest of the world
we’re very conservative.”

“Okay, so when you say ‘the rest of the world’, you mean
people like me?”

“Yes.” Rebekah’s face creased, some of her internal battle
showing. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I like you. I think that if Sammi
were taking you home to a community like ours, you might be welcomed. I don’t
want to hurt you or scare you, but I believe you’re unprepared for how Sammi’s
family is going to react to him marrying a non-Jewish woman.”

Autumn’s first reaction was to bitch-slap the woman into the
ocean, but she stopped herself. Light from the resort cast shadows on their faces,
but she could still see the Rebekah’s sincere and pained expression. If Autumn
were honest with herself, she’d known what Rebekah was saying would happen.

She dropped to sit in the sand and sighed.

Rebekah slowly lowered to sit next to her. “I’m sorry if
that sounds harsh. I’m not good with talking. That’s my husband’s job. I’m much
better at cooking to solve issues.”

Autumn sighed and rested her head on her knees, studying her
unlikely friend. “You did fine. I talk to people all day. It’s nice to hear
someone shoot you straight.”

Rebekah slowly lifted her hand, as if she were afraid Autumn
would push her away. When she didn’t, Rebekah patted her back. “I’m sorry. I
don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Is it really going to be that bad?” She’d had a taste
tonight with the socialites, and that was just for being a white-trash-looking
woman with a first-class man. What would it be like when it was his family?

Rebekah let a moment pass. “If his mother is anything like
mine, then yes. Yes, it’ll be bad.”

* * * * *

Tamara folded her hands in her lap and stared at the man
across from her. Dr. Abshire was at least ten years her junior and had an odd
love of short-sleeve button-up shirts and penny loafers. He was a tidy, slow-spoken
man who took copious notes on everything she said and did.

His constant attention amused Tamara, which was why she
continued to see him even after Samuel had stopped ensuring she went to these
sessions.

“How is your head feeling, Dr. Abshire?” she asked.

“A lot better since last week, thank you.” He twirled the
pen between his fingers.

“The tea helped?”

“I suppose so. Is this the tea you make for all of your ill
friends?” He glanced at his paper and clicked the gold pen.

She shifted her weight. No one would get her recipe. She had
it under lock and key. “It is. I brought a different one today. Would you care
to try it?”

“Sure. Let me get some hot water.” He swung to a small table
nearby with a phone and rang his secretary for the necessary components. “How’s
your son doing? Feeling any better?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She pursed her lips, still annoyed that
her son was out of touch and, as far as she could tell, gone without a trace.
The police had informed her that his message to his workplace negated a missing
person report, but she’d tried anyway.

“Oh? What’s he up to these days?”

“I haven’t a clue. My chef was out ill for several days.”

Dr. Abshire merely nodded with the change of discourse. “You
mentioned she wasn’t doing well. How is she?”

“Better. Back at work.”

“Did she get some of your tea?” He smiled and clicked the
damn pen twice in a row. She wanted to school him on etiquette, but previous
attempts had proven useless. The man was destined to spend the rest of his
short days uncouth.

“She did.”

The secretary entered with two plain white mugs of hot
water. Tamara sniffed, still dissatisfied that the office couldn’t see fit to
keep actual teacups around. The mugs were deposited on the coffee table in
front of Tamara and the girl left as wordlessly as she had entered.

Tamara scooted forward, pulling the mugs toward her. She
took a packet out of her purse and removed the metal ball with holes all
through it, placing it in one of the cups. With a few dunks and swirls, the
water began to turn colors, becoming murky and brown.

“Here you are, Doctor.”

Dr. Abshire accepted the mug and sipped the brew.

Tamara picked up her mug and settled back against the
couches.

“Tell me, Doctor, how have you been lately?” She blew across
the top of her mug.

“Fine. Fine.” He nodded and took another sip.

* * * * *

Autumn crept toward wakefulness. The bed was so comfortable
and a clean, linen scent surrounded her. So much better than the sheets on her
bed, which probably still smelled like the fries she’d accidentally left in the
bedroom for a whole day last week.

She rolled to her back and stretched.

The first thing she noticed was the absence of ocean waves
and birdsong. Instead, silence reigned.

She cracked her eyes open, only to be met with shadows on
white walls.

Sammi’s house.

No.

Our house.

Autumn glanced at her husband, who was sprawled out on his
stomach, still asleep.

They’d arrived back in Texas the night before and promptly
curled up on the couch with takeout. She’d had most of a bottle of wine and
they’d compared tastes in TV shows. It was a little foggy after that, but she
was pretty sure she’d stumbled to bed serenading him with a Spice Girls song.

She swung her feet over the side of the bed, grabbed her
glasses from the bedside table and crept out to the den. They’d taken a quick
tour of the house, but besides some essential furniture, like the bed, a couch
and at least three TVs, it was pretty much empty, with a lot of white walls.
She felt a little bit like a squatter breaking and entering, except the ring on
her left hand meant she belonged here.

Autumn wrapped her arms around herself and meandered from
room to room. Judging by the light, it was heading into midmorning on a lazy
Monday.

She was supposed to work at the shop today. It was on her
schedule, but she really didn’t want to show up yet. Though she didn’t think it
was a good idea, Autumn went to the couch where she’d dropped her purse and dug
out her cell phone. She hadn’t turned it on in almost a week, not since they
lifted off for St. Maarten. She powered it on and chewed her lip while the
screen lit up.

Instantly it started buzzing with incoming messages and
voicemails.

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut.

She did not want to hear those yet.

She slid it back into her purse and pulled off her glasses
to rub her face. One more day wasn’t going to hurt anything, not when she’d
already skipped out on five. Today would just make six. It wasn’t that bad.

Autumn paced through the living room restlessly and into the
kitchen. They’d bought a handful of groceries, but that was only because she’d
wanted the wine.

She pulled the fridge open and stared at the meager offerings.
Eggs. Something that looked like bacon. Some vegetables.

The makings of an omelet.

Perfect.

As far as cooking skills went, hers were passable, but an
omelet was totally in her wheelhouse.

It took her only twenty minutes and one false start to turn
out two edible omelets. They would be better with real bacon, but Sammi’s fake
bacon would have to do. Some juice would have been nice, maybe a cup of coffee,
but all they had was a little milk she divided into two glasses. She piled the
whole spread onto a serving dish she found in the cabinets and tiptoed back
into the bedroom.

The room was bathed in a dim glow, the curtains not dark
enough to cut out all of the harsh sunlight.

Sammi had rolled onto his back, one arm curled under his
head and the other thrown out toward her side of the bed.

Maybe she should let him sleep, but her stomach was growling
and tomorrow they’d have to resume normal schedules. And they could always nap
later.

Autumn set the tray down on the tall dresser by Sammi’s side
of the bed and turned to study her husband.

There was really only one way to wake him up considering it
was the first night they’d spent in the house together. She put one knee on the
mattress and swung her other leg over him so she straddled his thighs. The only
thing covering him was the sheet, the rest of the blankets had been kicked off
onto the floor during the night.

Sammi shifted but didn’t wake up. He really was a heavy
sleeper.

Autumn set her glasses on the dresser and pulled the sheet
off. Leaning over him, she tugged the waistband of his boxers down, all without
him stirring. Except for the rousing in his shorts. She was able to get his
underwear down most of the way so that his semierect cock was in view. Sammi
rolled his head this way and that against the pillow, but that was it.

“Wakey, wakey,” she said quietly as she grasped his dick and
caressed the shaft.

He stirred in her palm, growing harder.

Autumn pumped him with firm, purposeful strokes.

Sammi groaned and his eyes opened slightly. She grinned and
ran her fingers over the mushroom cap.

“Mm.”

“Someone’s waking up.” She scooted back and leaned down
until she could take the head of his cock into her mouth. There was the salty
taste of skin and the clean scent of soap clinging to him.