The Temporary Mrs. King Read Online Free PDF Page A

Walter Stanford. And he was a man who liked his privacy.
    Which would be perfect for the exclusive resort the Kings were planning. The mega-wealthy would come here to play on the beach and enjoy the high life away from throngs of tourists and, most especially, paparazzi.
    It was all perfect.
    Except for the whole marriage thing.
    â€œAnd,” she said, dragging his attention back to her. “There’s more ?” he asked with a short laugh. “What else is there? Got a dungeon you want to shut me up in? Or maybe you want me living on bread and water for a couple months?”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous,” she said.
    â€œOh, I’m being ridiculous.” He shook his head and gave her an almost admiring glance. “You want us to be married. Living together. Putting on a ‘colorful truth’ for your grandfather—but none of the fun stuff.”
    She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and he knew for a fact that she was feeling what he was. So just how long would she last with this little celibacy rule? As that thought wandered through his mind, Sean smiled to himself. This, he thought, could get very interesting.
    â€œThis isn’t about fun—”
    â€œClearly,” he agreed.
    Her lips thinned and her mouth worked as if words were trying to get out, but she refused to let them. Finally, though, she took a breath and said patiently, “It’s a smallisland, Sean. So you won’t be able to sleep with anyone else, either. My grandfather would find out and this whole thing would be over before it began.”
    Sean stiffened at the insinuation. Sitting up straight, he laid both hands on the tabletop and leaned in toward her. Even riding that quick whip of anger, he kept his voice down. His gaze bored into hers as he said, “I. Don’t. Cheat. When I give my word, I keep it.”
    Their gazes locked for several long seconds before she finally nodded. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to be clear about everything.”
    He leaned back in his chair, gritting his teeth against the bubble of frustration inside him. “Fine. We’re clear.”
    â€œAnd we still have a deal?”
    He looked into those blue eyes of hers again and told himself this was surely a mistake. He felt it right down to his bones. But damned if Sean could see another way for him to get what he wanted.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “We have a deal.”
    He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. Couldn’t believe he was going to get married. Again. And this one wouldn’t be any more real than the first one.
    At least this time though, he’d know going in that the marriage would mean nothing.

Three
    W alter Stanford was somewhere in his seventies, but his sharp blue eyes didn’t miss much. He was tall, with snowy white hair, a hard jaw and the bearing of a much younger man. He stood behind the wide desk in his library and looked at Sean with a cool, dispassionate eye.
    Sean met the older man stare for stare, never blinking. He knew how to run a negotiation and knew all too well that the first man who spoke, lost power. So he kept quiet and waited for the older man to say something.
    Walter Stanford’s suite took up half of the entire top floor of the hotel, with Melinda’s private quarters in the other half. It was old-world elegant, again with just a touch of shabbiness. As if the place had seen better times. Sean had to wonder if the old man was as wealthy as rumor suggested.
    He had noticed a couple of telltale water marks on the ceiling, proof of a leaky roof that hadn’t been fixed intime. And there were other things too. Nothing over the top, he thought, just tiny warning flags. Scars on the wood floors, chipped molding, window casements where the plaster had crumbled.
    Of course, none of that proved anything. All it might mean was that Walter Stanford was simply too busy or too uninterested to make the dozens of minor repairs buildings