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Hired Husband
Rebecca Brandewyne
With eyes as dark as night and a gaze that laid all secrets bare, Nick Valkov was the kind of man any smart woman would avoid. But dire circumstances forced levelheaded Caroline Fortune to proposition this compelling stranger…with marriage. Her family's fate rested in Nick's capable hands–and brilliant mind. Yet her proper upbringing hadn't prepared this reluctant bride for her husband's soul-stirring embrace. And neither expected that their practical union would lead them to dark hours of danger…and the ultimate surrender.



I’m Kate Fortune—the matriarch of the Fortune family.
My dearly departed husband, Ben, and I started from nothing and created the successful Fortune Cosmetics empire.
But fame and wealth aren’t everything—family comes first. My children and grandchildren’s happiness is most important to me. And I’ll do anything—even a little meddling—to make sure they always land on their feet.
Nothing—and no one—will stand in the way of whatever I set out to do….

A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Reader,
I am so proud and pleased to have been asked to write the launch title for FORTUNE’S CHILDREN. I think this is a fast, entertaining, sexy, exciting series—and I certainly had a lot of fun doing Hired Husband. I hope you enjoy it!
It’s been said many times that the rich are different. Yet when I sat down to write about Caroline Fortune, I didn’t find that to be true at all. She brought the same hopes and fears to her relationship with Nick Valkov that I think all of us do in our own lives.
It was Nick who surprised me. When I was told by Silhouette that my hero was a chemist, I had the same mental image Caroline thought Nick should conjure up: dull, boring, puttering away in some dusty old laboratory piled high with books and beakers. So much for stereotypes. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a chemist in quite the same way again!
Caroline and Nick’s marriage starts out as one of convenience and grows to be a love match because they have the chance to become friends. If FORTUNE’S CHILDREN has a message, I believe it’s that husbands aren’t just husbands, and family isn’t just family—they are, or should be, our friends, as well. I think that sometimes in the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives, we tend to forget that. Caroline and Nick remember. May you all be just as fortunate in your own lives!





Hired Husband
Rebecca Brandewyne

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my stepfather, Verne.
With love.

REBECCA BRANDEWYNE
New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Brandewyne began her first romance novel at just twenty-one years of age, while finishing her Master of Arts degree in communications. Rebecca has since gone on to write numerous bestsellers. Her versatility as an author has inspired effortless jumps between the genres of contemporary, historical and Gothic fiction, and her various works have appeared on bestseller lists for the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, the Los Angeles Times and Magazine & Bookseller, among many others.
Rebecca has come a long way from her roots as a self-professed country girl. She is now heralded as one of the world’s leading romance authors, equally adept at easing her stories into existing history, setting them squarely in the present or creating future worlds for her characters. With more than 8.5 million copies of her books in print worldwide, Rebecca’s novels have reached 60 countries around the globe.




Meet the Fortunes—three generations of a family with a legacy of wealth, influence and power. As they unite to face an unknown enemy, shocking family secrets are revealed…and passionate new romances are ignited.
KATE FORTUNE: Fearless matriarch of the Fortune clan—until her plane crashes and the family is left to make the most of her legacy. Her children and grandchildren inherit gifts that become touchstones for happiness…and romance.
CAROLINE FORTUNE: The dynamic marketing executive for Fortune Cosmetics, she has no time for romance. But she’ll do anything to save the family business, including marrying—in name only—a sexy scientist.
NICK VALKOV: Fortune’s top chemist needs a bride—and Caroline needs a protector. But what starts as a green card marriage turns into so much more….
KYLE FORTUNE: Playboy millionaire. When he inherits a Wyoming ranch from his grandmother, can this city slicker roll up his sleeves and turn into a genuine cowboy?
LIZ JONES — CELEBRITY GOSSIP
K ate Fortune, CEO of Fortune Cosmetics, was on her way to clinch what close friends have hinted is a major business coup when her private plane crashed. The family isn’t saying anything, but rumor has it that Kate’s missing…and could be dead!
The fabulously wealthy Fortune family has come face-to-face with plenty of turmoil in recent days…and some are saying that this crash was no accident. Just last week a top Fortune Cosmetics employee was faced with deportation. Then, a very mysterious fire exploded in the company lab.
Is someone out to ruin the Fortune family? And how will they survive the secrets and scandal that threaten their reputations? And with Kate’s crash, I hear some Fortune family members are worried about their lives.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen

Prologue
Washington, D.C.
“N ow, Duckie,” the low voice on the telephone purred throatily. “I know that with all your connections, you must have a friend or two at the INS. And really, what I’m asking is only a teeny, tiny favor, one that involves no risk at all to you or to anybody at the INS, either, for that matter. After all, who could possibly care whether one lone Russian male has his green card revoked? You can say you got a tip from an anonymous informer, which led you to believe that Dr. Nicolai Valkov is a former KGB agent or is hooked up with the Russian mob in this country or something. Whatever. Just as long as he’s viewed as an undesirable alien and deported. The INS won’t question your word, Duckie…the word of one of the most powerful senators on Capitol Hill. So I know you can do it…that you can get rid of Nick Valkov for me. And of course, it goes without saying that I’d be ever so…grateful to you. So grateful, in fact, that I’d have to make a special trip out to Washington just to see you, Duckie. We’ll have our own private celebration, just the two of us. I’ll bring champagne—and that little black boudoir ensemble of mine you like so much….”
As he leaned back in the big burgundy-leather chair before his massive, antique oak desk, Senator Donald Devane closed his eyes at the images evoked by the husky voice on the other end of the telephone. His breath was harsh and labored. His heart hammered with excitement, and his groin tightened unbearably as he remembered their last “celebration”—and the black outfit. His palm sweated profusely on the receiver as he made a long attempt to clear his throat, choked with anticipation and arousal. At last, he managed to speak.
“I…ah…do, in fact, have a friend or two at the INS. So I don’t see why I couldn’t make those arrangements for you. A casual word dropped here or there. No, that shouldn’t pose any problem whatsoever. Consider Nick Valkov as good as on a plane back to Russia at this very moment.”
“Oh, Duckie, I knew my faith in you wasn’t misplaced. Call me just as soon as you’ve got everything fixed up with the INS, and I’ll be on the next plane out to Washington, I promise. Until then, keep my side of the bed warm and have sweet dreams about me…as I will about you. See you soon, Duckie.” A soft, seductive laugh echoed from the receiver before the line went dead, leaving the dial tone buzzing in the senator’s ear.
After he had got his breathing and heartbeat back under control, Donald Devane punched one of the intercom buttons on his telephone, directing his secretary to put through a call for him to the Immigration and Naturalization Service bureau.
Some minutes later, a computer at the INS began the process that would revoke the green card of one Dr. Nicolai Valkov, currently director of research and development at Fortune Cosmetics—and therefore, unbeknown to him, a spoke in somebody’s wheel.

One
Minneapolis, Minnesota
A s Caroline Fortune wheeled her sedate dark blue Volvo into the underground parking lot of the towering, glass-and-steel structure that housed the global headquarters of Fortune Cosmetics, she glanced anxiously at her gold Piaget wristwatch. An accident on the snowy freeway had caused rush-hour traffic to be a nightmare this morning. As a result, she could be late for her 9:00 a.m. meeting—and if there were one thing her grandmother, Kate Winfield Fortune, simply couldn’t abide, it was slack, unprofessional behavior on the job.
And lateness was the sign of a sloppy, disorganized schedule.
Involuntarily, Caroline shuddered at the thought of her grandmother’s infamous wrath being unleashed upon her. The stern rebuke would be precise, apropos and scathing, she knew, delivered with coolly raised, condemnatory eyebrows and in icy tones of haughty grandeur that had in the past reduced many an executive—even male ones—at Fortune Cosmetics not only to obsequious apologies, but even to tears. Caroline had seen it happen on more than one occasion, although, much to her gratitude and relief, she herself was seldom a target of her grandmother’s anger.
And she wouldn’t be this morning, either, not if she could help it. That would be a disastrous way to start out the new year.
Grabbing her Louis Vuitton tote bag and her black leather portfolio from the front passenger seat, Caroline slipped gracefully from the Volvo and slammed the door. The heels of her Maud Frizon pumps clicked briskly on the concrete floor as she hurried toward the bank of elevators that would take her up into the skyscraper owned by her family. She pressed the Up button on the wall, muttering under her breath as several minutes seemed to tick by before, at last, a chime sounded and a pair of elevator doors slid open to admit her.
Presently, she was rushing down the long, plushly carpeted corridors of one of the hushed upper floors, toward the conference room where the meeting was scheduled.
By now, Caroline had her portfolio open and was leafing through it as she hastened along, reviewing the notes she had prepared for her presentation. So she didn’t see Dr. Nicolai Valkov until she literally ran right into him. Like her, he had his head bent over his own portfolio, not watching where he was going, either; as the two of them collided, both their portfolios and the papers inside went flying.
At the unexpected impact, Caroline lost her balance, stumbled, and would have fallen had not Nick’s strong, sure hands abruptly shot out, grabbing hold of her and pulling her close to steady her. She gasped, startled and stricken, as she came up hard against his broad chest, lean hips and corded thighs, her face just inches from his own—as though they were lovers about to kiss.
Caroline had never been so close to Nick Valkov before, and in that instant, she was acutely aware of him—not just as a fellow employee of Fortune Cosmetics, but also as a man. Of how tall and ruggedly handsome he was, dressed in an elegant, pin-striped black suit cut in the European fashion, a crisp white shirt, a foulard tie and a pair of Cole Haan loafers. Of how dark his thick, glossy hair and his deep-set eyes framed by raven-wing brows were—so dark that they were almost black, despite the bright fluorescent lights that blazed overhead. Of the whiteness of his straight teeth against his bronzed skin as a brazen, mocking grin slowly curved his wide, sensual mouth.
“Actually, I was hoping for a sweet roll this morning—but I daresay you would prove even tastier, Ms. Fortune,” Nick drawled impertinently, his low, silky voice tinged with a faint accent born of the fact that Russian, not English, was his native language.
At his words, Caroline flushed painfully, embarrassed and annoyed. If there was one person she always attempted to avoid at Fortune Cosmetics, it was Nick Valkov.
Following the breakup of the Soviet Union, he had emigrated to the United States, where her grandmother had hired him to direct the company’s research and development department. Since that time, Nick had constantly demonstrated marked, traditional Old World tendencies that had led Caroline to believe he not only had no use for equal rights, but also would actually have been more than happy to turn back the clock several centuries where females were concerned. She thought his remark was typical of his attitude toward women: insolent, arrogant and domineering. Really, the man was simply insufferable!
Caroline couldn’t imagine what had prompted her grandmother to hire him—and at a highly generous salary—except that Nick Valkov was considered one of the foremost chemists anywhere on the planet. Deep inside, Caroline knew that no matter how he behaved, Fortune Cosmetics was really extremely lucky to have him. Still, that didn’t give him the right to manhandle and insult her!
“I assure you that you would find me more bitter than a cup of the strongest black coffee, Dr. Valkov,” she insisted now, attempting without success to free her trembling body from his steely grip, which continued to hold her so near that she could feel his heart beating steadily in his chest—and knew he must be equally able to feel the erratic hammering of her own.
“Oh, I’m willing to wager there’s more sugar and cream to you than you let on, Ms. Fortune.” To her utter mortification and outrage, she felt one of Nick’s hands slide insidiously up her back and nape, to her luxuriant mass of sable hair, done up in a stylish French twist. “You know so much about fashion,” he murmured, eyeing her assessingly and pointedly ignoring her indignation and efforts to escape from him. “So why do you always wear your hair like this…so tightly wrapped and severe? I’ve never seen it down. That’s the way it needs to be worn, you know…soft, loose, tangled around your face. As it is, your hair fairly cries out for a man to take the pins from it, so he can see how long it is. Does it fall past your shoulders?” He quirked one eyebrow inquisitively, a mocking half smile still twisting his lips, letting her know he was enjoying her obvious discomfiture. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you. What a pity. Because my guess is that it does—and I’d like to know if I’m right. And these glasses.” He indicated the large, square tortoiseshell frames perched on her slender, classic nose. “I think you use them to hide behind more than you do to see. I’ll bet you don’t actually even need them at all.”
Caroline felt the blush that had yet to leave her cheeks deepen betrayingly, its heat seeming to spread throughout her entire body. Damn the man! Why must he be so infuriatingly audacious and perceptive? Because what Nick suspected was true: her hair did fall below her shoulders, and the prescription in her lenses was so light as to be negligible. She customarily wore both the French twist and the glasses solely because she felt they gave her a more businesslike appearance, a no-nonsense image she had determinedly cultivated to conceal her vulnerable, romantic inner self from the rest of the world—from men in particular.
“Dr. Valkov,” Caroline said frostily, forcing herself to marshal her wits and composure, “not only am I not even remotely interested in what you think, but neither of us has time to stand here exchanging idle chitchat—that is, unless you care to be the recipient of one of my grandmother’s notorious dressing-downs. I, however, do not. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would release me, so that I, at least, can make our nine o’clock meeting on time. There are currently less than five minutes to spare.”
“The meeting.” Nick started slightly at the reminder. “Would you believe that bumping into you drove it completely from my mind, Ms. Fortune?” He let her go then, kneeling to help her retrieve and sort out all the papers that had scattered from the two portfolios.
Once she and he finally had everything straightened out, they entered the conference room together, where Caroline was dismayed to observe that she and Nick were the very last ones to arrive. Her grandmother sat at the head of the huge, Honduras-mahogany conference table. She was flanked by Caroline’s father, Jacob Fortune, who was Kate’s eldest son and the president of Fortune Cosmetics, and Sterling Foster, who was Kate’s attorney and closest friend. Sprawled in a chair to one side and looking as though he were nursing a pounding hangover was Caroline’s playboy cousin Kyle, his suit jacket already discarded and his collar and tie loosened, despite the early hour.
Although seventy, Kate Winfield Fortune was anything but old and decrepit. She had a striking, barely wrinkled face born of both excellent bone structure and the best cosmetics and skin care money could buy. As usual, her rich, wine red hair, lightly streaked with gray, was upswept in a classic Gibson girl that accentuated the high cheekbones and flawless, creamy skin Caroline herself had inherited.
Despite that Kate was slim and small in stature, her feisty, dynamic personality ensured that she dominated her surroundings. Her sparkling, shrewd blue eyes were evidence to the fact that her vivacity and energy were those of a woman half her age and that her mind was still as sharp as the proverbial tack. Nobody put anything past Kate Winfield Fortune.
She was the CEO of the entire Fortune holdings, which included not only Fortune Cosmetics, an enterprise she herself had founded years ago, but also a worldwide construction and development corporation, and interests in oil and ranching. More than anyone else in the extended Fortune family, Caroline adored her grandmother. She wanted to be just like her.
But in her heart, Caroline knew that, unfortunately, she lacked her grandmother’s natural warmth, wittiness and high spirits, her zest for life and her quest for adventure. If Caroline had ever possessed those attributes, they had been crushed out of her some years back by her disastrous engagement.
She had been so young and so in love with Paul Andersen, a colleague at Fortune Cosmetics. It had nearly destroyed her when, by a cruel trick of fate, she had inadvertently learned it wasn’t her Paul had truly loved, but her share of the Fortune riches.
Since that time, deeply wounded and embittered, Caroline had resolutely steered clear of men, concentrating instead on her career, emulating her grandmother’s business acumen, ambition and flair for fashion. Through intelligence, savvy, hard work, dedication and sheer determination, Caroline had risen through the ranks to become Fortune Cosmetics’ vice president of marketing.
And she knew she was good at her job, that she had earned her position. Because her grandmother didn’t believe in handing anybody—not even family—anything on a silver platter.
“Good morning, everyone.” Caroline quickly drew off her expensive leather gloves and elegant camel wool coat, laying them aside, trying to still the wild thudding of her heart, the agitated quivering of her body, as Nick’s dark glance raked her again appraisingly. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. The snow caused an accident on the freeway this morning, tying up traffic forever, or I would have been here sooner.”
“Not to mention the fact that Ms. Fortune and I had a small collision of our own out in the hall.” Nick’s mouth turned down wryly at the corners as he surveyed Caroline, and he shook his head at her imperceptibly, so she knew he disapproved not only of her hair and glasses, but also of her classically tailored Chanel suit and cream-colored silk blouse.
She had the horrible, unsettling impression that he was mentally stripping her naked, that he knew exactly what she looked like naked; to conceal the flush she felt creeping up once more to stain her cheeks crimson, she swiftly bent over her portfolio, which she had spread open on the conference table. She was abruptly beset by such an awful urge to box Nick’s ears, to slap the smirk clean off his handsome face, that she could scarcely contain herself.
What on earth was the matter with her this morning? She was usually cool, composed and competent. It was most unlike her to be so flustered and irritated—especially by a man. The terrible traffic snarl must have rattled her more than she had suspected. She had better get hold of herself in a hurry, she told herself, or her marketing presentation was definitely going to suffer—particularly as Kyle now appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair.
At the sight of him, Caroline silently cursed the kindly impulse that had caused her some months ago to promote him to the position of her assistant. Despite that he was one of her favorite cousins, he was just like every other man she had ever known—utterly worthless and no good, she now thought hotly.
“Well, despite all the mishaps, we’re still on schedule. So, since we’re all assembled, shall we get started?” Kate asked briskly. “Kyle. Kyle! Do you care to wake up and join us this morning?” Frowning, she stared at her errant grandson censoriously as he was nudged to awareness by a surreptitious punch in the ribs, delivered by Sterling Foster. “Somehow, Kyle, I just don’t think you’re cut out for Fortune Cosmetics,” Kate observed dryly, once he had started awake. “It’s my belief that you need to be someplace where you’re forced to get up at the crack of dawn, breathe great lungfuls of fresh air and work so hard all day that you’re too tired for any nightlife at all—much less the wild one that seems to be affecting you for the worse these days.”
“Good heavens, Grandmother. I can’t think of anything less appealing than sunrises and crisp air.” Yawning and rising, Kyle strolled leisurely over to the credenza along one wall, where he poured himself a cup of black coffee from the automatic coffeemaker that sat next to a Baccarat crystal pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and a sterling-silver tray sporting an assortment of fruits and breads. “Besides, I worked late last night.”
At her grandson’s words, Kate snorted her disbelief but, mercifully, chose not to pursue the subject. Instead, she directed peremptorily, “Nick, you begin, why don’t you. How is my secret youth formula progressing?”
“Very well, actually.” Confidently, Nick stood, moving around the conference table to the computerized video-presentation equipment, into whose drive he inserted a diskette. After a few moments, the huge monitor on the stand was filled with a complex diagram and chemical equations Caroline could not begin to understand. Using a laser pointer, Nick explained. “You’re all aware from previous meetings of the steps we’ve taken to date. This morning, I’m happy to report that after years of research and development, the secret youth formula is finally nearing completion. This is the formula’s matrix. When combined with various properties present in the epidermis, this is what happens, according to both theory and our tests.”
A click of the mouse put the big screen into motion. What followed was a thirty-minute video, detailing in layman’s terms the effect of the secret youth formula upon the skin. The intricate demo ended with the reassembling of the original matrix.
“Now,” Nick continued, “you will notice that the matrix is not wholly formed. The break you see here in this molecular chain—” he shone the laser pointer on the monitor “—is what I call Ingredient X, meaning that we’re certain we need one last element to finish the formula. We just don’t know yet what that element is, although we’ve managed within the past several months to narrow the range of possibilities considerably. My guess is that it won’t be long at all now until we do isolate and identify Ingredient X, at which point the formula will be ready for market. Are there any questions?”
“So what you’re saying,” said Jacob Fortune, known to everyone as Jake, “is that the secret youth formula utilizes properties similar to those found in Retin-A and salicylic acid, as well as alpha hydroxies like glycolic acid? But that Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will go beyond those products—that it will, in fact, revolutionize the entire cosmetic market in that it will be similar, basically, to a chemical peel for which consumers previously would have needed to visit a plastic surgeon or dermatologist? And the difference is that they will now be able to perform the task themselves—both safely and relatively inexpensively—in the privacy of their own homes? Further, that the effects of Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will be cumulative, that is, the longer the formula is used, the greater the benefits will prove?”
“Exactly.” Nick nodded, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “With proper, regular use, Fortune Cosmetics’ formula will, within just a matter of months, restore even the most deteriorated skin to the texture, elasticity, et cetera, that it exhibited in its late teenage to early twenties years—minus the acne, of course.” The observation brought a round of appreciative chuckles. “In addition, once that youthful stage has been reached by the consumer, consistent use of the product a few times a week will maintain the skin at that level—which means, of course, that the majority of consumers will be steady customers.
“Because the formula is, in essence, a chemical peel, it will require FDA approval. However, all our tests have led us to believe that won’t be a problem. As you know, we’ve worked closely with the FDA all along, both to ensure conformity with all their rules and regulations, and to keep them apprised of our test results. Sterling can fill you in on all those legalities. In addition, we’ll undoubtedly have several patents granted—which will tend to slow down our competition for quite a while. I expect our market share to increase substantially as a result.” Nick grinned wickedly, bringing a scowl to Caroline’s face as she watched him.
It just wasn’t right for any man to be so damned attractive, she thought—especially when that handsomeness was coupled with an imperious attitude and undeniable intelligence. The man was brilliant; she had to give him credit for that.
Opening his portfolio, Nick withdrew several identical bound reports, which he passed around the conference table, announcing, “I have, of course, prepared full written summaries of my presentation for you all.”
“Excellent.” Kate beamed her approval. “You’ve done an outstanding job, Nick! I have every confidence that you will shortly discover the missing Ingredient X. Further, I know I speak for all of us here at Fortune Cosmetics when I say how much I deeply appreciate your dedication to the job and all the contributions you’ve made to the company since coming aboard. Keep up the good work! And keep me informed of your progress, won’t you? Now, speaking of our market share…Caroline, is your advertising campaign ready for the launch of our secret youth formula?”
“Yes, Grandmother, it is.” Smoothing her skirt, Caroline rose to make her way to the computerized video-presentation equipment while Nick pressed the button on the drive to release his diskette, which he slipped into his portfolio.
Then he strolled over to the credenza. “Ah…sweet rolls!” he exclaimed, glancing rakishly beneath hooded lids at Caroline.
Much to her irritation and discomposure, she felt herself blush as furiously again as she had earlier outside in the corridor, and her fingers were suddenly so clumsy that she dropped upon the floor the diskette she was attempting to insert. When she bent to retrieve the diskette, she accidentally knocked her portfolio from the conference table, too, sending all her papers flying once more.
Swearing under her breath, she shot Nick the proverbial look that could have killed, causing him to grin hugely.
“Here, let me help you, Ms. Fortune.” He knelt beside her to gather up the fallen papers. Between his teeth, he now gripped one of the sweet rolls from the sterling-silver tray on the credenza.
It was all Caroline could do to prevent herself from shoving the sweet roll down his throat. She was embarrassedly aware of her grandmother, father, cousin and Sterling watching her and Nick curiously, clearly wondering what, if anything, might be between the two of them.
While Fortune Cosmetics did not have a company policy against employee fraternization, Caroline could not help but remember what had happened with Paul Andersen and how disappointed her grandmother and father both had been in her judgment. Her mistake with Paul had caused them to look over her shoulder for months afterward, double-checking the decisions she had made on the job.
Were they even now sitting there knowing—as they had known about Paul and she had not—that Nick Valkov was a fortune hunter, too, or otherwise unsuitable in some fashion? Were they even now questioning her judgment again?
That thought incensed Caroline, reminding her why she had always gone out of her way to avoid Nick—and every other man at Fortune Cosmetics.
Beneath the edge of the conference table, she glowered darkly at Nick. In response, he broke off a piece of the sweet roll, offering it to her, while he ate his own portion with relish, deliberately savoring it. Despite herself, she felt her eyes drawn to his sulky, sensuous mouth, his tongue that licked the sticky icing from his long, elegant fingers. Unbidden, a sudden image of him doing wild, sexy things to her with those lips and tongue rose in her mind, mortifying her and setting the pulse at the hollow of her throat to fluttering wildly.
Shaking her head curtly at the proffered sweet roll, she bent over her scattered papers, feeling the heat of her blush deepen and spread, stricken by the terrible, unnerving suspicion that Nick had somehow seen the mental picture she had had of the two of them together.
From beneath her long, thick sooty lashes, she glanced at him surreptitiously. He was no longer grinning, which should have relieved her—and would have—except that now his dark eyes glittered with speculation as he stared at her, as though he had never really looked at her before and suddenly saw a great deal to interest him.
“Your papers, Ms. Fortune,” Nick said softly as he handed them to her. One powerful, slender hand reached out, took hold of her arm. Caroline was so startled and unsettled by their physical contact that she only barely restrained herself from jerking away from him as he assisted her to her feet.
“Thank you, Dr. Valkov,” she replied as cooly as she could manage, silently cursing the fact that her hand trembled as she jammed her diskette into the drive. She cleared her throat nervously. Then, determinedly ignoring Nick, she began her presentation. “As you’re all aware, we’ve had several names for the secret youth formula under consideration. Based on the marketing campaign that I and my department have developed, however, this is the name we suggest that you approve.”
A click of the mouse brought her own presentation to the monitor, and superimposed over the Fortune Cosmetics’ logo, the words Fabulous Face flashed on the screen.
After a moment, the video itself unfolded, explaining the concept for the marketing campaign, then focusing on the actual print and television advertising. The proposed TV commercial started with a closeup of Caroline’s sister Allison—who was Fortune Cosmetics’ top supermodel—and a low, seductively confiding voice-over that asked, “What’s her secret?”
Then the spiel describing the new product ensued as several different women of various nationalities and ages, all the models beautiful and youthful-looking, were shown in a number of settings, both at work and play. More than one of the women had a tall, handsome man at her side. Tucked discreetly into each scene was a shot of the product itself, packaged in an appealing, gilded, heavy glass container designed in Fortune Cosmetics’ signature style.
Sixty seconds later, the proposed commercial ended with the voice-over announcing, “And now that you know her secret, you, too, can be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces.”
Much to Caroline’s pleasure, at the video’s completion, the room erupted in applause.
“It’s wonderful!” Kate crowed, laughing like a gleeful child. “Precisely what we want to get across to the consumer…that any woman who uses our secret youth formula can have a fabulous face! That’s it! That’s exactly what we’ll call it—Fabulous Face! Sterling, make a note to register that name right away. Oh, it’s a clever television commercial, Caroline, beautiful, sensuous, a little mysterious, not clinical at all, even though you manage to get the primary points of the product across…. And the magazine layouts you’ve designed are gorgeous and glamorous yet down-to-earth at the same time, so they won’t make the average woman feel that a fabulous face is beyond her reach. I am just absolutely delighted—and so proud of you, Caroline! Excellent work! Keep it up!”
Even more than her grandmother’s praise, Caroline was thrilled to hear her father’s compliments when he chimed in exuberantly. Jake was very much aware of his position in both the family and Fortune Cosmetics. He had, she knew, given up his own dreams to take charge of the company, resolutely dedicating himself over the years to making it a tremendous success. As a result, he had demanding, frequently impossible expectations, and Caroline understood that she had always taken second place in his heart, that it was her older brother, Adam, whom Jake would have preferred to have seen at Fortune Cosmetics, being groomed as its heir.
But Adam had always been at odds with their father and had never wanted anything to do with any of the family businesses. At eighteen, her brother had rebelled and struck out on his own, joining the military. That had been a bitter disappointment to Jake. And although ever since then, Caroline had striven almost desperately to make up for Adam’s desertion, to win her father’s approval, today was the first time she felt she had truly succeeded. More than anyone else at the company, she thought, Jake realized just how much was riding on the secret youth formula that would prove the culmination of all Kate had ever hoped to achieve in life.
After a few more minutes of discussion, the meeting adjourned, everybody agreeing that the new product was wonderfully on track and extremely close now to becoming a reality.
“Before you all leave, I want to remind you that positively everything connected with the secret youth formula is to remain strictly confidential,” Kate insisted as she gathered up her copies of Nick’s and Caroline’s presentation reports. “We all know the hazards of industrial espionage, and I don’t want any of our competitors getting wind of Fabulous Face until it hits the market. We’re going to blow them away with this one! I can feel it in my bones. Oh, how I’d love to see our competitors’ expressions when they find out about Fabulous Face! They’re just absolutely going to croak!” Kate giggled again like a mischievous child at the notion.
Then she swept from the conference room, Sterling trailing along in her wake, Jake following behind.
“Kyle, I need to see you in my office for a few minutes,” Caroline announced hastily, not wanting to be left alone with Nick Valkov. Even so, her heart sank as she thought of what she must say to her wayward cousin. Over the years, she had become very adept at reading between the lines of her grandmother’s words. So, sadly, Caroline had recognized that Kate’s seemingly innocent observations about Kyle earlier had, in reality, been her grandmother’s subtle way of instructing her to fire her cousin.
In her heart, Caroline knew that what Kate had said was true: Kyle just didn’t fit in at Fortune Cosmetics, wasn’t cut out for the cutthroat corporate world. Not only did he play around a great deal more than he worked, but he had also had a string of affairs and one-night stands with more than one of the supermodels signed to exclusive, multimillion-dollar contracts with the company.
Recently, Danielle Duvalier—who rivaled even Caroline’s sister Allison for face and name recognition in the marketplace—had been so devastated by her breakup with Kyle that she had nearly suffered a nervous breakdown, and Caroline had been forced to send her to the Bahamas to recuperate.
Kyle’s falling asleep at this morning’s meeting was simply the last straw.
So, no matter how callous and cruel it seemed to Caroline, she realized she had to get rid of her cousin. Now, as she and Kyle entered her office together, she mentally steeled herself for the unpleasant task. She loathed firing anybody.
“Close the door and sit down, Kyle,” she directed as she hung her coat in the closet of her luxurious corner office with its wide windows overlooking the Twin Cities and the Mississippi River, which separated Minneapolis and St. Paul at its confluence with the Minnesota River. As Kyle cast his suit jacket aside and sat down in one of the two plush chairs before her elegant, cherry-wood Queen Anne desk, Caroline took her own seat behind it, drawing a deep breath before she spoke again. “Kyle, you know you’re one of my favorite cousins,” she began, only to have him interrupt with a wry grin.
“But I’m not living up to your expectations, am I? I’ve let you down in more ways than one, especially by falling asleep at the conference table earlier, and now you’ve got to fire me. Oh, don’t look so surprised and chagrined, Caro. You’re not the only one who’s got a handle on Grandmother and what she meant this morning with her observations about my character. And to tell you the truth, I’ve sensed this day was coming. In a way, I’m actually even glad and relieved that it’s here. It’s saved me from quitting.” Kyle paused for a moment, running his hand through his sun-streaked hair, his smile rueful but his blue eyes sober.
“I know you gave me a chance, Caro, and for your sake, I’m sorry your promoting me to your assistant hasn’t worked out. But unfortunately, Grandmother was right. I just don’t belong here at Fortune Cosmetics. Hell. I’m starting to believe I don’t belong anywhere! Frankly, the fascination of my jet-setting nightlife began to pall some time ago. But I just can’t seem to find anything more worthwhile to replace it. If you want to know the truth, I’m restless and bored to tears. Honestly, half the time, I feel like just chucking it all and going off to hole up in the wild somewhere, becoming a mountain man or something.”
“Well, why don’t you, then?” Caroline asked, her brow knitted with caring and concern. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to be a playboy all your life, Kyle.”
“I know that. But you know how we Fortunes are, Caro. From Grandmother on down, we’re all a spoiled, stubborn lot, each of us in our own fashion determined to have our own way, no matter how foolish. Look at Adam, running off to join the army. Look at you, hiding behind those glasses you don’t need and cutting yourself off from men all because of that worthless Paul Andersen. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing you, Caro. I’m commiserating. God knows, I haven’t done any better myself in the love department,” Kyle stated glumly. “I need to get out less, and you need to get out more—and that’s a fact. I noticed Nick Valkov seemed quite taken with you this morning.”
At his words, Caroline felt a blush once more creeping up to stain her cheeks. She frowned at her cousin censoriously. “That’s ridiculous! Why, the man’s as big a playboy as you, Kyle. He could have any woman he wanted. Why should he be interested in me?”
“Well, if you’d ever take off those stupid glasses, let down your hair and look in the mirror once in a while, Caro, you’d know. You’re as beautiful as Allie, damn it! You could be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces yourself.”
“Oh, Kyle, that’s so sweet of you to say so. But you know it’s not true.”
“The hell it isn’t. Why, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d be tempted myself.” He flashed her the devastating grin that had charmed and then broken so many hearts. “There’s always something about an ice queen that makes a man want to melt her. Trust me. Nick Valkov isn’t any exception. I know the signs. He’s interested in taking up the challenge, all right.” Kyle stood, tossing his jacket carelessly over his shoulder and jamming one hand into his trouser pocket. Then he leaned across her desk to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “So why don’t you loosen up, Caro? Give the man a chance. And don’t feel bad about firing me. You’ve done me a favor. Take care of yourself—and I’ll see you around.” Whistling cheerfully, he sauntered from her office, leaving her staring after him, dwelling on his words.
After a long moment, Caroline shook her head, resolutely forcing herself from her reverie. Kyle was crazy. Nick Valkov had deliberately taunted her this morning only to amuse himself at her expense. He had no real interest whatsoever in her.
Absolutely none.

Two
I t was after dark when Nick Valkov pulled into the driveway of his large, elegant house situated on one of the beautiful lakes beyond Minneapolis’s city limits. Pressing the button of the remote control to open one of the three doors, he parked his Mercedes-Benz in the garage. Then he went inside, taking his attaché with him. It contained paperwork from the office, along with his mail, which he had retrieved a few moments ago from his mailbox.
In the great room, whose floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the lake beyond, Nick stripped off his heavy wool topcoat, leather gloves, suit jacket and tie, carelessly tossing them over a chair. Then he loosened his collar and poured himself a shot of Stolichnaya vodka from the Waterford crystal decanter on the bar. Sipping the drink, he settled into one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs and flipped open his briefcase. Withdrawing his mail, he began to sort through it, pitching to one side what was obviously junk and placing the rest into a pile.
It was when he came to an envelope bearing the return address of the Immigration and Naturalization Service that he paused, tearing it open to read the tersely worded letter inside. He was so stunned by its contents that at first he couldn’t believe his eyes. He swore softly, stricken.
“No, this just can’t be right! There must be some mistake somewhere!” he insisted to himself. Both anger and fear roiled inside him as he mentally watched all his hopes, dreams and plans for the future going up in smoke, vanishing as though they had never been.
He had been declared an undesirable alien and was going to be deported from the United States! Sent back to Russia! He was to surrender himself to the nearest INS office, bringing his passport and green card with him. These instructions were followed by stern warnings of the legal measures that would be taken against him if he disobeyed.
Nick was devastated. Although the letter did not precisely come right out and say so, it hinted that he had been identified as a former KGB agent—which wasn’t true in the least. The very idea was ridiculous! He was a chemist—and a damned good one—not a spy! Still, if he were to remain in the United States, he had no doubt that he was, at the very least, facing a protracted, expensive legal battle to prove himself innocent of whatever accusations had been made against him.
The notion of returning to his own country held no appeal whatsoever. Ever since the breakup of the Soviet Union, Russia had been in a state of political turmoil. Nick did miss his homeland—which was why Minnesota, with all its wintry frozen lakes and snowy countryside—had drawn him to settle in the Twin Cities area. But he did not in the least long for the constant upheaval born of the ideological struggles of Russia’s government officials.
Reaching for the telephone, Nick picked up the receiver and punched in the number of Kate Fortune’s private line at the office. He let the telephone ring endlessly, but there was no response, so he finally tried her at home. When she answered, he spoke, relieved to have caught her.
“Kate? It’s Nick Valkov. I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but something important has come up, which I thought you would want to know about right away. Is this a good time to talk—or do you have plans for the evening?”
“Actually, Sterling and I were just about to have a quiet dinner here at home, but if necessary, I can have the housekeeper set it back for a while.
“Hold on a minute, Nick,” she continued briskly, “while I let Sterling know, so he can give instructions to Mrs. Brant.” She placed her hand over the receiver to muffle the sound of her calling out to Sterling. Then she spoke to Nick again. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s up?”
He explained about the letter from the INS, finishing with, “Needless to say, I’m very upset about all this, Kate—not to mention just utterly baffled. I simply can’t imagine where the INS might have got the idea that I was a former KGB agent, for heaven’s sake! Of course, I did do chemical research and development for the government—but it was never anything of a sensitive nature. I was then and still am staunchly against chemical warfare, and I have never assisted nor would I ever assist any government in developing anything of that sort. Even so, I suppose it’s possible somebody’s got the mistaken notion that I aided and abetted my homeland in that capacity and somehow confused my work with some secretive KGB operation.
“At any rate, because of my involvement with Fabulous Face and its importance to you, I thought I’d better let you know about all this immediately, Kate.” Nick sighed heavily as, reaching for his discarded suit jacket, he withdrew a pack of Player’s cigarettes from the inside pocket. Shaking one out, he lit up, inhaling deeply, then blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” Kate scolded like a mother hen as she heard the sound of his exhaled breath.
“Well, I was. I mean…I am. But damn it, Kate! This news from the INS has put me under a real strain. I don’t want to go back to Russia—and I certainly don’t want to lose my position at Fortune Cosmetics because I’m so involved in a legal battle that I can’t do my job!”
“You don’t need to worry about that, Nick. We’re so close now to completing my secret youth formula that you can be assured I don’t intend to let you escape from Fortune Cosmetics. We’ll just have to find some way of circumventing the INS, that’s all.
“Sterling!” Kate called, one hand muffling the receiver again. “Pick up the extension, so you can get in on this discussion. The INS thinks Nick’s a former KGB agent, and they’re attempting to deport him—and I’m not going to lose my foremost chemist. Not only is he too valuable to the company, but I just can’t let him get away with all that knowledge he’s got in his head about Fabulous Face,” Kate declared, chuckling, removing her hand from the receiver. “Some foreign government might grab him and steal my secret youth formula, turn it into an aging cream instead. Then women everywhere would find their skin wrinkling up rather than smoothing out—and that would start World War Three!”
Despite himself, Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s right, Kate,” he agreed. “It’s all a fiendish master plot. That’s why I don’t have a wife or even a steady girlfriend. I plan to be one of the lucky men who survives, who isn’t done in by a thoroughly enraged woman.”
“But of course, that’s precisely what you need, Nick.” Sterling spoke from the extension he had picked up to join in the conversation. “Not an enraged woman, but a wife, I mean. That would be the solution to all your problems.”
“A wife?” Nick exclaimed, dismayed. “Now, why would I want one of those, Sterling?”
“Because even if you were a former KGB agent, if you were married to an American citizen, the INS couldn’t do anything to you. You’d be in this country legally, and you wouldn’t need a green card, so they couldn’t deport you. That’s the law,” the attorney elucidated.
“So…what? I’m supposed to just pick some woman off the street and ask her to marry me?” Nick gibed. “Sterling, you surely can’t imagine that the INS is going to believe that upon receipt of their letter, I just suddenly fell in love and found a wife. They’ll know it’s a setup.”
“I agree,” Kate said, the wheels of her sharp mind churning furiously. “That’s why we’ll need to go about this very carefully and keep it as quiet as possible—keep it all in the family, so to speak.”
“Kate, what are you thinking?” Sterling queried suspiciously. He had known her for so many years that he was well aware of how her mind worked, so even as he asked the question, he had some inkling of where she was headed.
“I’m thinking that I have several beautiful granddaughters, many of whom are single—and that at least two of them, Caroline and Allison, work for Fortune Cosmetics, besides. Now, Allison is extremely high profile, so she isn’t a good choice at all. But Caroline…Caroline has always been very publicity shy. She is, as you both know, one of the movers and shakers behind the scenes of the Fortune empire, vice president of marketing at Fortune Cosmetics—and intimately involved in the development of Fabulous Face. She’s not married. And it didn’t seem to me this morning that you were too averse to her, Nick.”
Nick didn’t know what to say. He felt as though he were dreaming. But shaking his head to clear it didn’t cause him suddenly to wake up in his bed. The idea that he might marry Caroline Fortune—with Kate’s blessing—seemed so fantastic as to be unreal.
Today was by no means the first time he had ever noticed Caroline. But just as she had this morning, she had always rejected the tentative overtures he had made to her in the past, shutting him down cold.
In the corridors of the Fortune Cosmetics building, she was known behind her back as the Ice Queen. She represented a challenge to every man at the company. But since her disastrous affair with Paul Andersen, she had let no man get close to her.
“Nick.” Kate’s voice startled him from his reverie. “You’re not saying anything. Do you find the idea of marrying my granddaughter Caroline so objectionable, then, that you can’t bring yourself to tell me, for fear of offending me?”
He cleared his throat, took another long drag from his cigarette. “No, it’s…ah…not that at all, Kate. Among other things, Caroline is quite lovely, creative and intelligent—and most men would consider themselves lucky to have her. But…well, her past relationship with Paul Andersen is pretty common knowledge at Fortune Cosmetics, as is the fact that ever since then, she’s held men at arm’s length. So I just simply can’t imagine that she would agree to this wild scheme of yours.”
“Well, we won’t know until we ask her. What’s important at the moment is whether you’re willing to consider it, Nick. To paraphrase your own words about Caroline, you’re a handsome, creative, intelligent man—and most women would consider themselves lucky to have you. But from what I hear, you pretty much play the field. And of course, that will no longer be an option for you if you marry my granddaughter.” Kate’s pleasant but firm tone made it plain that she would expect Nick to treat Caroline with every respect and consideration due her as his wife, even though theirs would be a marriage of convenience rather than one born of love.
“Of course, if I agreed to marry Caroline, I would do so with every intention of settling down and doing all that’s right and expected, Kate.” Nick was indignant that his employer might have thought otherwise. “I just don’t know if this is such a good idea, that’s all. Caroline and I hardly even know each other, for pity’s sake.”
“Well, why don’t you give it some thought, Nick. Sleep on it, and let me know your decision tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’ll have Sterling start checking into the various legalities of the matter. After all, there’s no point in even considering the idea if the INS is going to be able to declare the marriage a sham and deport you, anyway. I’ll also speak to Jake, let him know what’s happening. The first thing I want you to do when you get into the office tomorrow morning, Nick, is to clear your calendar, so you can meet with Sterling and me, and possibly Jake and Caroline, as well.”
“Fine. That sounds good. I’ll plan on that, then,” Nick replied—although, inwardly, he groaned, thinking that this whole thing had “harebrained scheme” stamped all over it. How could he possibly ask Caroline Fortune to marry him, just to save his life here in the United States? He remembered how frostily she had stared at him this morning, how coolly she had attempted to put him in his place. She would never say yes.
Not in a million years.

Three
C aroline simply couldn’t believe the conversation taking place in her grandmother’s luxurious penthouse office at Fortune Cosmetics. She thought she must be imagining the fact that she was sitting here listening to Kate calmly explaining Nick Valkov’s troubles with the INS, as well as what seemed to all to be the only practical solution—all, that was, except for Caroline.
She thought with dismay that her grandmother must finally have slipped into senility, must surely have taken leave of her senses. The idea that she, Caroline Fortune, should marry Nick Valkov was absolutely ludicrous. She was astonished and mortified that her grandmother had even suggested it. That Kate’s expression and tone clearly indicated that she expected her to comply with the proposed plan filled her with panic.
From beneath her long, thick black lashes, Caroline stole a surreptitious glance at Nick. Much to her surprise and relief, she saw that at least he wasn’t sitting there grinning mockingly at her, as he had yesterday morning. Today, in fact, he actually looked as uncomfortable as she herself felt at this moment.
Caroline didn’t know whether to empathize with him or to be indignant at the realization that he obviously wasn’t too enthused at the prospect of becoming her husband. Despite the fact that she certainly did not want to become his wife, she was piqued by the realization that he didn’t want to marry her—although, as an incentive to agree to the scheme, her father had offered to up Nick’s salary handsomely, as well as to pay him a six-figure bonus on the wedding day.
The wedding day, Caroline thought a trifle bitterly. The wedding deal was more like it. Because that’s exactly what this arrangement was: a business deal, pure and simple. Her grandmother and father were paying Nick Valkov to marry her, so he wouldn’t get involved in a protracted legal battle with the INS and wind up being deported, unable to complete the secret youth formula of such vital importance to Fortune Cosmetics.
Why, it was worse, somehow, than if she had married Paul Andersen! Caroline told herself hotly. At least Paul had had some feelings for her, had cared about her as much as he was capable, even if it had been her money he had loved more than her.
“Caroline…you’ve barely said anything at all,” Kate observed, not without a note of caring and compassion.
She knew it must be hard for her granddaughter to be placed in such a difficult, seemingly unpalatable position. Nevertheless, Kate intended to continue to apply pressure upon her to accept the proposed marriage. It had not escaped the older woman’s keen notice how her granddaughter had withdrawn socially after her broken engagement with Paul Andersen, how she had, with a fierce, determined vengeance, thrown herself into her work, cutting herself off from all men.
Caroline was twenty-nine now—and not getting any younger, Kate thought wryly, both anxious and exasperated at the idea that her granddaughter was missing out on all life had to offer. It was not that the older woman wanted to meddle in the younger’s business, but she felt that Caroline could use a push in the right direction—as could Nick Valkov, for that matter. He was in his prime and ought to be thinking about a wife and children.
Kate wanted everyone around her to be as happy as she was—and in her book, happiness included having a partner with whom to share all of life’s ups and downs. “Caroline?” she said again, expectantly.
“Forgive me Grandmother.” Caroline started nervously from her reverie. She wished she could speak to her mother, but Erika Fortune was out of town for the rest of the week. “I guess I haven’t said very much because, quite frankly, I’m at a complete loss as to know what to say. I’m sorry for Nick’s difficulties with the INS, of course. But I just can’t believe there isn’t some other solution to his problem.”
“The trouble is that there really isn’t, Caroline.” Her father, Jake, spoke soberly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone along with this marriage notion of Mother’s and Sterling’s, because it’s as wild an idea as any I’ve ever heard. But surely you can see how Nick’s being deported would affect Fortune Cosmetics at this point in time, Caro. We’ve invested both years and millions of dollars in the research and development of the secret youth formula. To lose Nick now, when we’re so close to completion of the product, would be a devastating blow. And of course, we’re talking about a marriage in name only. Once enough time has passed and the INS has lost interest in Nick, you and he can quietly divorce, and that will be the end of it.”
Not for the first time, as she felt the red creeping into her cheeks, Caroline silently cursed the fact that she blushed so easily. Her father’s words about her marriage to Nick being in name only had inadvertently conjured up images of the exact opposite in her mind. She had pictured her and Nick together, naked and making love. She hoped he couldn’t see into her brain. But from the sudden, speculative gleam in his eyes, she suspected that he knew what she had thought. Worse, she suspected that he had thought it, too.
Because now, as though he had, indeed, read her mind, Nick asked, “Well, Ms. Fortune, what do you say? Are you going to be responsible for my being packed off to Russia or not? All I need is a simple answer. Will you marry me? Yes or no? And then we can all get back to work—which, since I may not have as much time remaining as I had thought to finish Fabulous Face, would seem expedient under the circumstances.”
Caroline swallowed hard, her heart racing, her palms sweating. Plainly, everyone expected her to agree to wed Nick. “Sterling, isn’t there really any other way?” she inquired tentatively, unconsciously licking her dry lips to moisten them.
“No, not that I can see,” the attorney replied, shaking his head sympathetically, his eyes understanding.
“Well, then, I suppose that given what’s at stake, I don’t have any choice but to say yes to this crazy scheme,” Caroline said slowly. “I know how much the secret youth formula means to you and Dad both, Grandmother, and to Fortune Cosmetics. I certainly don’t want to see all your hard work wasted. And after all, it’s not as though it’ll be a real marriage…I mean, not in any true sense of the word….” Her voice trailed away awkwardly.
“Thank you so much, Caroline. I knew I could count on you.” Kate smiled and hugged her granddaughter warmly before turning to the others in the room. “Sterling, Jake, why don’t the three of us go someplace else to discuss all the necessary arrangements?” she suggested tactfully. “Give Caroline and Nick some time alone together. I know they must have things they want to talk over between themselves at the moment.” She glanced thoughtfully at the now officially engaged couple. “We’ll see the two of you later.”
Shortly afterward, Caroline and Nick were alone in the office, she fidgeting nervously with her skirt, unable to meet his eyes, unable even now to believe this was all happening, that it was actually real.
This man was going to become her husband. She thought she must be mad to have consented to such a plan. Unbidden, visions of her wedding night suddenly rose in her mind, and doubt gnawed at her. After all, what did she really know about Nick Valkov, other than that he was a brilliant chemist?
Even though Fortune Cosmetics ran extensive background checks on its executive personnel, what if the IRS were right and he truly were a former KGB agent? What if once he got his ring on her finger and his bonus money in his bank account, he decided not to keep his part of the bargain, decided he wanted to exercise his husbandly rights?
Caroline’s imagination ran wild, wreaking havoc on her emotions and senses.
“I…ah…know this can’t be easy for you, Ms. Fortune.” Nick spoke at last, breaking the silence that lay heavily between them. “And I want to take this opportunity to thank you so much for agreeing to help me out of my difficulties this way.”
“Caroline…my name is Caroline,” she reminded him softly. “If we’re going to be married, you can’t keep on calling me Ms. Fortune. Otherwise, the INS will know something is wrong, that our marriage is a sham—and then it will all be for nothing, won’t it?”
“Yes, of course, you’re absolutely right. Caroline it is, then. And I’m Nick.” He paused for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts. Then he continued. “Look, let’s be perfectly honest with each other. This is not what either of us might have wished for and a very awkward situation for us both. But there are things we can do to make it easier.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one, we can spend a little time getting to know each other better. We’re going to be husband and wife, and although we’re not lovers, I’d like to think we can at least be friends during the duration of our marriage. Second, there are some matters we’ll have to attend to right away. I’d like us to be wed sometime this week, as for obvious reasons, I’m in a hurry and so can’t really afford to wait around while we plan a huge wedding that will be publicized in all the newspapers and will wind up attracting the INS’s notice, besides. I’m sure a quick trip to the courthouse wasn’t what you imagined for your wedding day, but under the circumstances, I know you’ll agree it’s for the best. We also need to figure out where we’re going to live, whether you should move in with me or I should move in with you.”
“This has all been so sudden, so unexpected and unsettling that I—I really hadn’t given any of that any thought,” Caroline confessed, abruptly rising from her chair and striding to the bank of windows that overlooked the city below. She stared out of them blindly, still beset by a sense of unreality. “Of course I think we should at least try to be friends, and yes, the courthouse and this—this weekend will be…fine, I guess. I hadn’t—I hadn’t realized we’d be married so soon, but I suppose it’s for the best to secure your position against the INS. As for—for living together, I have an apartment in the city, not far from Fortune Cosmetics. It’s not large, but it is convenient.”
“For your sake, I think we should consider privacy as opposed to proximity. So I suggest you move into my house instead,” Nick replied, standing and moving to join her at the windows. “It’s got plenty of room, so we won’t be on top of each other. Besides which, if the INS decides to investigate our marriage, it would probably be more believable for us to say that we retained your apartment because we both often work late hours at Fortune Cosmetics and needed someplace to stay overnight in the city on those occasions, than it would be for us to say that we kept my house as a weekend retreat.”
“All right.” Caroline finally worked up courage enough to turn and face him. “Dr. Valkov…Nick, I have to apologize to you. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself that I’ve only just this moment realized this can’t be any easier for you than it is for me. Yet you’ve tried to put me at ease, and I appreciate that. I want you to know that I’ll try not to disrupt your life any more than necessary, and I hope you’ll do the same for me.”
“Agreed.” He smiled down at her—a smile that did not quite reach his dark eyes, which, to her surprise, she saw were shadowed with concern for her. “However, in order to fool the INS, we will need to present a solid front and to concoct some story about our having fallen in love here on the job and eloped. Thank heavens you’re such a sensible, prudent, reserved woman, Caroline. We can perhaps suggest that you didn’t want the fuss of and attention attracted by a big society wedding, so that’s why we chose to go the courthouse route.”
Unexpectedly, she felt a sense of pique at Nick’s characterization of her personality. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter what he thought about her. But somehow, that didn’t help.
Sensible. Prudent. Reserved. Was that really how he saw her? Was that how everybody saw her? Caroline asked herself, distressed. Of course it was. She knew that behind her back, Fortune Cosmetics’ employees referred to her as the Ice Queen.
Not for the first time, she thought it certainly didn’t make her sound as though she were any fun, the kind of woman a man would want to be with. Before, she hadn’t cared; she hadn’t wanted a man in her life. But now, like it or not, she was going to be Nick’s wife.
“I—I suppose I’m not at all the sort of woman to whom you’re usually attracted.”
“Actually, I find you very attractive, Caroline,” Nick declared quietly. “I just think you’re a little up-tight, that’s all. However, I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t live with, that we can’t deal with together. After all, we’re both adults—and as I said earlier, my house is plenty big enough for the both of us. Why don’t we plan on driving out there later today? That way, you can take a look around, decide what bedroom you think would suit you best. Then we can start getting your things moved in.”
“This is really happening, isn’t it? We’re actually going to get married, aren’t we?” Caroline smiled falteringly, trying to make light of the matter. “Somehow, I keep expecting to wake up and find out it’s all just a dream.”
“I know. I feel the same way,” Nick admitted, running one hand raggedly through his hair. “But, yes, it’s real, and together we’ll just have to try and make the best of it. And we will, Caroline. I promise you that.” He paused, taking a deep breath, before he smiled down at her again—this time a roguish grin that, despite herself, managed somehow to set her pulse racing. “And now, I suppose we’d better get to work. I’ve got a ton of things to do in the lab if I’m going to bring your grandmother’s secret youth formula to fruition.”
“If you don’t mind, Nick, I think I’d like to be alone for a little while to try to come to grips with our situation, to get some perspective on it. So you go on. And when you’re ready to take that drive out to your house, why don’t you buzz my office? I’ll have my secretary clear my calendar for the remainder of the day, so I’ll be at your disposal.”
“Well, in spite of everything, I have to admit I like the sound of that,” he drawled insolently, grinning wickedly at her once more, impervious to her sudden scowl and flush of embarrassment. “Oh, hell. Lighten up, Caro. After all, it isn’t every day that a person gets engaged. Besides, it could be worse. It could be Otto the INS is attempting to deport!” Otto Mueller was his stolid, heavyset assistant in the laboratory. Then, before Caroline realized what Nick intended, he bent his head to brush her lips quickly with his own. “Sorry. I just couldn’t resist. I simply had to know whether or not you’d taste like a sweet roll!” he insisted before grabbing his attaché and heading from Kate’s office.
Caroline stood there staring after him, nonplussed, biting her tongue to hold back the question that had involuntarily sprung to it: Well, do I? Unwittingly, her hand flew to her mouth. Somehow, her lips felt warm from his kiss. At that realization, she shook her head resolutely, as though to clear it.
What was she thinking? Really, the man was impossible! Any concern and empathy she had thought he might have felt for her earlier had obviously been an attempt on his part to conceal his true self from her, in order that she would say yes to marrying him.
How could she go through with their wedding? Caroline asked herself, torn. Because how could she not go through with it? Her grandmother, father and Fortune Cosmetics were all counting on her. She couldn’t let them down, couldn’t turn her back on them and prove a disappointment to them, as her brother, Adam, had done.
No, like it or not, she had no choice but to wed Nick Valkov. She sighed heavily. This was not the marriage of her dreams, what she had envisioned since she was a little girl. She had hoped for a loving husband, children.
Her eyes strayed to the elegant marble pedestal that stood in one corner of her grandmother’s office. From the column, a small, slender alabaster arm rose. Wrapped around its wrist was a sterling-silver heir-loom baby bracelet composed of tiny beads and a delicate heart. It was quite valuable, as it was believed to have belonged to one of history’s great queens. But that was not the reason why Caroline had always loved it. It was because, to her, it somehow symbolized all that life should be, the making of the proverbial happy home and hearth, the passing of the torch from one generation to the next.
She was twenty-nine years old—and she could hear her biological clock ticking away. How much time would she lose by marrying Nick Valkov, time she might have spent looking for a true husband who loved her and would give her children? How much time had she already wasted herself, burying herself in her work and cutting herself from all men? She had been a fool, Caroline realized now. But it was too late to go back; she could not relive the past.
She must, as her father had, set aside her own dreams for the good of the family. Thus resolved, she squared her shoulders determinedly and strode from her grandmother’s office.

Four
W hen, late that afternoon, Nick finally rang her office, Caroline was actually relieved. She had both dreaded and anticipated his call all day, so she had hardly been able to concentrate on her work. As a result, she had got very little accomplished, and she knew there was no point in continuing to fritter away any more time at her desk.
“I’ll come up to your office to get you,” said Nick. “I think we need to be seen to be in contact with each other, so that if the INS starts nosing around, questioning employees here at Fortune Cosmetics, they’ll at least discover some signs that we might have been having a discreet affair—and perhaps believe that we got more excited and careless as we moved toward marriage. So be sure your secretary’s there.”
“All right,” Caroline agreed slowly, knowing his plan was logical but still reluctant to fall in with it. She had been an object of gossip at Fortune Cosmetics during her relationship with Paul Andersen, and she loathed the thought of becoming so again. She had worked hard to put the past behind her. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.” After disconnecting, instead of hanging up the receiver, she punched in her secretary’s extension. “Mary, I’ve got those letters that needed my signature ready now, if you’d like to come in and get them.”
“Great. I’ll be right there,” the young, bubbly secretary replied.
Moments later, Mary appeared in the doorway. Instead of handing her the letters right away, Caroline pretended to sort through all the papers on her littered desk, chatting with the secretary and feeling like a fool at deceptively delaying her until Nick arrived. Caroline was glad when he finally showed up.
“Caro baby…oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone, Ms. Fortune,” he uttered contritely as he stuck his head inside the doorway, feigning momentary confusion and discomposure.
He did it so well, seemed so practiced at subterfuge, that for an instant, Caroline could not help but wonder if the INS really was right and if Nick really was a former KGB agent. Then she realized how ridiculous an idea that was.
Because if he were, he certainly wouldn’t have come to the United States and taken a job as a chemist at a cosmetics company. He would surely have sought a position at something like an electronics or aircraft company, or as a government official or a politician, so he would have access to the kind of information that would be valuable on the open market—to foreign governments and terrorists.
While rival cosmetics companies might be interested in finding out that Fortune Cosmetics was going to call its new shade of red lipstick and matching nail polish Maraschino Cherry, Caroline simply couldn’t imagine that anybody else would pay highly for that knowledge—or that it would attract the attention of a secret agent.

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