When Jayne Met Erik

“You don’t think I’m serious, do you?” he asked.

Actually, Jayne suspected he was serious. Which was entirely the problem. Aloud, however, she only said, “Well, can you blame me?”

“I suppose it does make sense that you would draw such a conclusion,” he conceded. “How often do strangers come in from the street and propose marriage, right?”

“I think I can safely say that you’re my first.”

For some reason, he smiled very suggestively at that. Then, “Well, I assure you, Jayne Pembroke, that I am completely serious. I want you to marry me.”

“You fell in love with me at first sight, is that it?” she asked playfully.

“Don’t be silly,” he countered. “I don’t even know you.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, I don’t believe in love at first sight. Or any sight, for that matter.” Before Jayne could comment on that—not that she had any idea what to say—he continued, “As I said, the marriage I’m proposing would be in name only. A marriage of convenience, if you will. I’ll be turning thirty soon. And my grandfather, a lovable old rogue, I assure you, decided a long time ago that I should be married by the time I turn thirty. In fact, he’s blackmailing me into it.”

“Can’t you talk to him? Explain that you don’t want to get married?”

“No,” Erik said. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s dead, you see.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Erik Randolph looked genuinely bereft as he said, “I am, too. But he was a lovable old rogue, as I said, and I do believe he only wanted what he thought was best for me.”

“And what did he think was best for you?”

“The love of a good woman,” Erik replied promptly.

“Oh,” Jayne said, smiling in spite of the strange situation. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

“And also one-third of his $180 million-dollar estate,” Erik added, in as matter-of-fact a tone as Jayne had ever heard.

Then his words hit her, and her mouth dropped open slightly, an incredulous little gasp of air escaping. “One-third of…of…of…”

“Sixty million dollars is what it boils down to.” Erik did the math for her, in that same matter-of-fact tone, by golly, when Jayne wasn’t quite able to calculate—or enunciate—the amount herself.

“Well,” she finally got out. “Well. Well, gee. Well, that’s pretty doggone good,” she conceded with much understatement.

Erik nodded, apparently oblivious to her complete astonishment, as if everyone came into $60 million because their lovable rogue of a grandfather willed it to them. “Unfortunately,” he said, “Grandfather Randolph insisted on one small stipulation before I could inherit. That I be married. By the time I’m thirty.”

“And you’ll be thirty soon,” Jayne echoed his earlier sentiment.

He nodded again. “Very soon. In two weeks, to be precise.”

This time Jayne’s jaw dropped a lot more, and the gasp of incredulous breath that escaped was more like a great big whoosh of air. “Two weeks?” she repeated.

He nodded once more.

“You expect to find a woman who’ll marry you in two weeks’ time?”

He eyed her with much concern. “Do you think that’s unreasonable?”

Jayne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He honestly seemed to think he could just waltz right in off the street and ask a woman to marry him, just because he would be coming into $60 million as a result. Then again, she thought, there were probably lots of women out there who would do just that. Especially once they got a look at Erik Randolph in his expertly tailored dark suit, with his silky, dark-brown hair and puppy dog brown eyes and full mouth that was just made for kissing and—

Well, suffice it to say that there were probably plenty of women who would take him up on his offer. Women other than Jayne Pembroke, anyway.

“Um, look,” she said, striving for a polite way to tell him he was nuts. “I’m really flattered,” she said again, “and I wish you well in your search, and I hope you enjoy your…” she swallowed with some difficulty before finally getting out “—$60 million. But I’m not the woman you need, truly.”

He eyed her intently for a moment, saying nothing. Then he asked, “Would you at least let me take you to dinner tonight?”

Jayne shook her head. But she was surprised at how reluctant she felt when she told him, “No, I’m afraid not. Thank you.”

“Oh, please,” he said. “I can explain things better, and you might change your mind. Plus, it would give you hours to get to know me.”

She couldn’t quite prevent the smile that curled her lips in response to both his cajoling and his own earnest grin. “No, really,” she told him. But she could feel her conviction slipping, and she was certain that Erik detected it, too, because his smile grew broader still.

“And once you get to know me,” he added, “you’ll discover just how charming and irresistible—not to mention what a great catch—I am.”

Jayne had no idea why, but she found herself wanting to say yes to his offer. Not the marriage offer, of course—that would be silly—but the dinner offer. Had he been another man who had wandered in off the street and flirted with her, one who wasn’t rumored to be eccentric, and one who hadn’t just proposed marriage to a total stranger, she might very well have given his invitation serious consideration. He was kind of charming and irresistible, after all. Not to mention cute. And he was seeming less and less like a psychotic, crazed homicidal maniac with every passing moment.

So that was a definite plus.

“I’m not sure it would be a good idea,” she said halfheartedly. She told herself she was trying to let him down easily. But she knew she was really only stalling for time, because she discovered then that—surprise, surprise—she really wanted to accept his invitation.

Erik, however, still clearly picking up on her uncertainty, pressed, “Look, if you’re worried about my intentions, you don’t have to tell me where you live. You can meet me somewhere.”

“Gee, I don’t know…”

“And I’ll let you pick the restaurant.”

“But…”

“And choose the time.”

“It’s just that…”

“Please, Jayne,” he said. “You may well be my only hope. And once I explain the situation to you, you might change your mind.”

She wasn’t sure how she should take that first part of his statement, whether being his only hope was a good thing or a bad thing. But she was absolutely certain about the last part of his statement—there was no way she would change her mind, no matter how well she understood what he termed “the situation.”

Still, what would it hurt to have dinner with him? she thought. It wasn’t as though she planned to do anything else this evening. Oh, wait a minute. Yes, she did have plans, she suddenly remembered. She planned to do laundry.

Dinner with Erik was definitely looking better now.