Marry Me, Major

She clicked the phone off, shoved it in her purse and locked her gaze on Ben’s face. “So will you? Marry me?”

She’d played him. Ben knew it. She’d shown him those pictures, hoping they would kick his protective instincts into high gear. Counting on it!

No matter. The ends in this case appeared to justify the means.

“Yeah, I will.”

She blew out a long breath. “Thank y—”

“On two conditions.”

Her face closed in, turned wary. “Which are?”

“First, if you mention paying me again, the deal’s off. No way I’m going to take money you’ll probably need for the legal battles still ahead.”

She didn’t try to hide her relief. “I can live with that. Second?”

“If we’re going to do this, we have to do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! Why?”

“Remember those pluses you just enumerated? Particularly the one about me being gone more than I’m home? My unit’s heading across the pond. We’re going wheels up at o-dark-thirty Monday morning.”

“But tomorrow’s Sunday! The country clerk’s office won’t be open to issue a license.”

“Then I guess we’d better make a quick trip to the scene of the crime.” He had to grin at her blank look. “Vegas, sweetheart. Vegas. I’ll take care of the details. Just give me your address, phone number and email. I’ll let you know what time I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

* * *

Alex exited the Cactus Café’s dusty parking lot and drove home in a swirl of emotions. This was what she wanted. This was the scheme she’d paid her high-priced lawyer to help her devise. It didn’t do a bit of good to remind herself that she’d resisted putting that scheme into play until she’d discovered this year’s Badger Bash would take place at the Cactus Café.

She’d known for months that Major Ben Kincaid was stationed right here, in Albuquerque, at the vast, sprawling military installation dominating the south part of the city. Kirtland Air Force Base was home to a dozen or more military units, including the premier training squadron for Special Ops aircrews and pararescue personnel. It hadn’t taken much sleuthing to confirm he was one of the instructors assigned to the 58th Special Operations Wing.

Alex hadn’t acted on that knowledge, however, as much as she’d wanted to. Her life was complicated enough with her rapidly expanding business, taking care of Maria, and trying to ramrod an adoption through a confusing and complicated legal system.

Then Eddie Musgrove, damn his putrid soul, had appeared in court. In restraints and an orange prison jumpsuit, no less. Despite the fact that he was a deadbeat dad and convicted felon, he’d convinced the doddering, dyspeptic, misogynistic judge that a single working woman wasn’t a suitable parent for his daughter. He’d also convinced the judge that the photo of his wife with that black eye was a result of a misunderstanding. He’d never laid another hand on her, or so much as touched his daughter in anger.

Furious and more than a little desperate, Alex had brainstormed the next course of action with her lawyer. After discussing and discarding several options, she and Paul Montoya had decided on the one—the only one!—that seemed doable.

Then she’d hit the computer. She was searching for a contact number for Major Benjamin Kincaid when she saw a flash about the Badger Bash. It was here this year. At the Cactus Café. Central Avenue. Starting tonight. And sure enough, Kincaid had been there. Her one-time lover and prospective groom.

She still couldn’t quite believe he’d accepted her desperate proposal. Now all she had to do was go home and dig through her closet for something to wear to her wedding.

Chapter Two (#ue66b33c0-f24a-5618-9731-e58ed254ae9d)

“Why can’t I go, too?”

Alex swallowed a sigh and gave Maria the same answer she had the previous four times. “Because this is a quick trip. I’ll be home in time to pick you up at Dinah’s before bedtime.”

“But you promised to take me ’n’ her to the BioPark today.”

“I know, Kitten. We’ll go next weekend. Cross my heart!”

Raising the scrubber she’d used to rinse the breakfast dishes, Alex air-sketched an X on her cream-colored tunic. Swarovski crystals danced along the tunic’s hem and sweetheart neckline. Paired with palazzo pants in the same clingy fabric, it was as close as she’d been able to come to wedding white.

Maria remained as unimpressed by Alex’s sartorial efforts as by her heart crossing. Her lower lip jutting mutinously, the girl took a just-rinsed plate and jammed it into the dishwasher.

“I want to go,” she said again. “I haven’t seen Aunt Chelsea in a long time.”

The “aunt” was an honorary title for Alex’s former Vegas roommate and best friend. The two women had kept in touch since Alex jettisoned her life in Vegas to move to Albuquerque. Laughing, vibrant Chelsea visited whenever she could get away from her job performing in the chorus line at the Flamingo Hotel and Casino’s flashy review.

“Chelsea was here last month,” Alex reminded Maria. “This trip will just be me and Major Kincaid.”

“I don’t like him.”

“How do you know? You haven’t met him yet.”

“But you’re gonna marry him!”

“Yes, I am.”

Alex had spent long hours last night trying to decide what to tell Maria about Ben Kincaid. After much agonizing, she’d decided to stick as close to the truth as possible.

As she’d explained over breakfast this morning, she and the major had met two years ago and had a wonderful time together before going their separate ways. Still clinging to the truth, she related that she’d lost touch with him until she saw a notice of his old squadron’s reunion on Facebook. On a whim, she’d gone to meet him last night, and they realized they were in love and decided to get married.

Maria hadn’t bought it. Still wasn’t buying it. Cutting off the tap, Alex wiped her hands on a dish towel and sagged the girl’s hands in hers.

“I told him all about you, Kitten. How you love to read. How you aced your spelling test last week. How you help me with my designs. Ben can’t wait to meet you.”

With a pout that had her lower lip jutting out ominously, Maria jerked her hands loose and crossed her arms over her thin chest. “He can wait all he wants. I don’t want to meet him.”

Alex bit back another sigh. Every website she’d pored through about seven-year-olds warned that this was a touchy transition period. They weren’t yet adolescents, but they no longer needed constant supervision. Yet they still hovered between that budding independence and clinging to their trusted anchors. For Maria, that anchor was Alex.

Unfortunately, Alex couldn’t risk explaining the real reason for her quickie Vegas wedding. The marriage had to look real. Feel real. Even to Maria.

Especially to Maria. Alex didn’t doubt for a minute that the girl’s scumbag dad would try to use her fake marriage to undermine Maria’s tentative sense of security.

“You’ll like Ben, Kitten. You will. He’s...”

Sexy as hell? Beyond amazing between the sheets? Desperate, Alex glommed on to one of the few nonbedroom activities she and Ben had shared during their brief weekend together.

“He’s a pizza freak. Just like you.”

“Does he like the pineapple, green olives and barbecue chicken combo?”

“I don’t know. But I bet he will if you get him to try it.”

Maria’s lower lip did its thing again. Elbows tight, black eyes stormy, the girl was a fifty-two-pound bundle of not happy.