“How so?”
“When Grant and Olivia drafted their wills, they made my guardianship of Lolly conditional. The only way I can be awarded full custody is if I’m married.”
The tablet slid out of Mrs. Summers’s hand and fell to the floor with a clunk. She didn’t bother picking it up. “Married?”
“Married.” He nodded. Maybe if they both kept repeating the word, the reality of his situation would sink in.
“But...” The older woman’s voice drifted off, which was probably for the best. Anders could only imagine the trajectory of her thoughts.
But you haven’t been on more than three dates with the same woman in years.
But you’re a workaholic.
And to quote his brother...
But you’re dead inside.
“Exactly,” Anders said, because it didn’t really matter which objection caused her hesitation. They all fit.
“So that’s it, then? What happens to Lolly?”
“Lolly’s staying put.” They’d take her away over his dead body. He’d made a promise to his brother that rainy day in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and he intended to keep it. He owed Grant that much. It was the least he could do. “I just have to find a wife.”
The shocked expression on Mrs. Summers’s face gave way to one of perplexed amusement. “Find a wife? It’s as simple as that, is it?”
“Yes.” He gave her a curt nod.
Simple was a necessity.
Frankly, the more Anders thought about it, the more he liked the idea of an arranged marriage. A temporary wife was exactly what he needed. He’d handle it like a basic merger. After all, those were his specialty. No messy emotions, no expectations—just a simple business transaction between two consenting adults.
Two consenting adults who wouldn’t sleep together or have any other sort of romantic entanglement.
Maybe I really am dead inside.
Fine. So be it.
Maybe Grant had hit the nail on the head when he’d made that astute accusation right before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office five days ago. Anders hoped he had. He’d love nothing more than to remain in his current state of numbness for the rest of his godforsaken life.
“My husband and I only knew each other for six months before we got married, and he was the love of my life.” Mrs. Summers gave Anders a watery smile. “You’re absolutely right. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
Anders swallowed around the rock in his throat. “I don’t have six months. I have until Christmas.”
She gaped at him, and he took advantage of her silence to abruptly fill her in on the rest of it. Having this conversation was more humbling than he’d anticipated. “If I’m not married by the end of the calendar year, Lolly goes to the alternate guardians—Olivia’s sister and her husband. Lolly can’t go to them. They live in Kansas, and her entire life would be upended. Plus, they’ve already got five kids of their own, and while I’m sure they’re competent parents, they weren’t my brother’s first choice.”
Nor was Anders, technically. Grant and Olivia wanted Lolly raised by Anders plus one, as if the matter of guardianship could be worded like a wedding invitation.
Was it even legal? Possibly, according to his lawyer. But they didn’t have time to battle it out in court.
Even if they had, Anders would have had to speculate in front of a judge and jury why his own brother would place such a condition on his role in Lolly’s life in the event she became orphaned. He would be forced to admit that the provision in the will had taken him by surprise, but he knew precisely why it was there.
If Grant and Olivia couldn’t be there for Lolly, they wanted her to grow up in a nuclear family—a home with a mom and dad. But that wasn’t the only reason. They knew that Anders loved their daughter, but they also knew he couldn’t be trusted to get up and walk away from Wall Street at a reasonable hour every day. Work was his first love, his only love. And that wasn’t good enough for Lolly.
Hell, even Anders knew it wasn’t.
He would change. Had they really thought he wouldn’t? He’d turn his life inside out and upside down for that little girl.
Yet here you sit.
The paneled walls of his office felt as if they were closing in around him. Anders fixated on the smooth surface of his desk and breathing in and out until the feeling passed.
When at last he looked up, the tablet was back in Mrs. Summers’s hands again and her glasses were perched on the end of her nose.
“Tell me how I can help,” she said.
A fleeting sense of relief passed through him. Help was precisely what he needed, and Mrs. Summers was efficient beyond measure. He could do this. He had to. “Get me the names and contact information for every woman I’ve dated in the past twelve months.”
“Yes, sir.” She jotted something down with her stylus.
“Better make that the past eighteen months, just to be safe.” He took a deep inhalation. It felt good to have a plan, even if said plan was a long shot. Reaching out to old girlfriends made more sense than proposing to strangers.
“If I might make a suggestion, sir. Perhaps you should consider...” Mrs. Summers tipped her head in the direction of the office across the hall from Anders’s, which belonged to another partner in the firm—Penelope Reed.
Anders grew still. He hadn’t realized anyone in the office knew about the arrangement he had with Penelope. So much for subtlety.
“No.” He shook his head.
It wasn’t completely out of the question, but Penelope was his last resort. True, they occasionally shared a bed. And true, their relationship was strings-free, as businesslike as a coupling could possibly be.
But marrying someone within the firm was a terrible idea. They could hide the occasional one-night stand, but a marriage was another matter entirely.
“Very well.” Mrs. Summers nodded. “It was just an idea.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and wondered what it meant that he’d felt more comfortable proposing to a stranger than to a woman he bedded from time to time. Nothing good, that was for sure. “In the meantime, I also need to find another puppy.”
Mrs. Summers peered at him over the top of her glasses. “Did you miss your appointment at the animal shelter this afternoon? I thought I’d programmed it into your BlackBerry.”
“No, I was there. But the shelter made some kind of mistake. They promised the dog to someone else.” For a brief, blissful moment, Anders’s attention strayed from his messy life, and he thought about the graceful woman in the reindeer costume—her soulful eyes, holly berry lips and perfect, impertinent mouth. Somewhere in the back of his head, he could have sworn he heard jingle bells.
“What a shame. Lolly would have loved that little dog.” His assistant pressed a hand to her heart.
Anders had screwed up a lot of things lately. His list of mistakes was longer than the line to take pictures with Santa at Macy’s, but he had a feeling he’d done the right thing when he’d walked away from the animal shelter empty-handed. Maybe he wasn’t as big of a Scrooge as everyone thought he was.
Dead inside.
A headache bloomed at the back of Anders’s skull. “There are other puppies. I suspect it worked out for the best.”
Mrs. Summers