4

It didn’t take long to order the food and drinks, then he headed across and slid into the chair opposite her. She’d shed her coat and was dressed in a smart jumper with a shirt collar over it. He set the drinks down on the table. “Iced water,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He took a long sip of his coffee. There was a long, awkward silence. Then they both spoke together. He gestured to her. “After you.”

“First, you need to know that I didn’t sign up to this ridiculous website off my own bat. My brother did it on my behalf. You see, he’s married and I’m not. He figured because I’m rubbish at dating, this would solve the problem.”

Surprise filled him. “Why’s that? I’d have thought a pretty woman like you would have hundreds of suitors.”

“Just one. Everyone thought he was perfect.” Chloe looked down. “He was anything but.”

Nigel reached over the table. “Chloe?”

She pulled back rapidly, putting both hands on her lap. “Please, don’t. I haven’t decided if you’re a creepy stalker or a decent bloke just yet. ”

“Sorry.” He picked up his coffee in both hands and frowned. “Did he hit you?” he asked, reading between the lines.

“He had a temper, but no, he never hit me. He had other ways of showing his displeasure, but I’m not getting into that. Anyway, that’s why I’m single. It’s safer.”

“Well, on behalf of the male of the species I feel I owe you an apology. We’re not all like that, I promise.” He leaned back as the food arrived. “Shall I say grace?”

Chloe looked surprised, but agreed. Once he’d finished praying, she picked up her fork. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a Home Office pathologist. I also lecture part time for Bournemouth University.”

“Impressive. I wish my lecturers had been as good looking as you. Do you teach pathology?”

“Forensic science.” His cheeks heated at the fact she thought him good looking. That wasn’t one of the terms he’d use to describe himself.

“Wow. Intelligent as well as good looking. Beats teaching ballet any day.”

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “You looked like you were having fun though.”

She stabbed the pasta and nodded. “They’re a good bunch of kids. But don’t you have fun?”

“Can’t exactly call doing post mortems fun.”

“Dead bodies? OK, we’re getting back to creepy again. Is it like—?”

He shook his head. He’d never thought of his career choice as creepy, more medical, but perhaps it was off-putting after all. “It’s nowhere near as glamorous as the TV makes it out. It’s simply finding out why people died. It’s not always murders either. What most people don’t realize is that if someone dies without having seen a doctor for two weeks, a PM is just standard practice. Having said that, I do find it interesting, and get a great deal of satisfaction from it. Finally giving families the answers they need when something happens to their loved ones. I call it medicine with an attitude.”

Chloe took a few bites of her pasta. For someone so thin, she sure had a healthy appetite. Sirens howled outside on the street. “How often do you lecture?”

“Usually five times a week. Sometimes more if I’m needed to cover.”

“But not today?”

Nigel shook his head. “No. I took a couple of personal days and got someone to cover my lectures for me.”

She grinned. “You don’t look old enough to be a professor.”

“I get that from my students all the time. But it keeps the mind active and if I can excite the next generation of forensic scientists, so much the better.” He cut a piece off his steak and dipped it into the egg yolk. Steak, egg, and chips was one of his favorite dinners. “So, what’s secondly?”

Chloe looked confused. “Huh?”

“You said first, you didn’t sign up for this. That implies a second and possibly a third.”

“Oh, right. Well, second would be my ex. I have trust issues now. I don’t feel comfortable around men. It’s why I teach rather than perform now. Leon was a dancer too; it’s how we met.” She paused, pushing the food with the fork. “So, why did you sign up to a dating site?”

“Umm…” He picked up his coffee. “I was under the impression it was rent a bride. You pay someone to pose for wedding photos.”

She snorted. “Not from what I read or what my brother told me. Did you even read the site?”

The phone in his pocket rang. “Excuse me. Dr. Turner speaking.”

“Dr. Turner.” The lawyer’s voice sent cold chills down Nigel’s spine. “I thought I should let you know about a letter that we have just found in your father’s safe. It’s dated the day before he died.”

Nigel suppressed a groan. “I can’t come in until next week. I’m out of town today and really busy at work for the next few days.”

“I can tell you the contents over the phone. The letter states that I have to be present at your wedding, along with six other witnesses, to make sure it’s legal and above board.”

Nigel closed his eyes. He would really have to go through with this, wouldn’t he? “You will also need a pre-nup,” the lawyer continued. “One that states should the marriage end in divorce, your wife will receive nothing from the estate. After the wedding, a tenth of the fund will be released. A year later, assuming you are still married, the rest of the money will be yours.”

Nigel groaned. “Fine.” He hung up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Bad news?” Chloe asked.

“You could say that.” He stabbed a chip and glared at it. “OK, I should be totally honest with you. I joined this site because I need a wife and I figured this was the easy option. Pay someone to pose for photos.”

Chloe looked at him. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Surely the local girls must be queuing up to date someone as good looking as you.”

“I have a made up one. Don’t laugh.”

Her eyes sparkled and she giggled. “An invisible girlfriend? Is she a cheap date?”

“I said don’t laugh. I made her up to keep my father off my back. Unfortunately the terms of his will state I have to marry by Easter or I’m disinherited. I’ll lose everything—the house, the fortune that goes with it—everything.”

“I see.”

He scrunched up his serviette, tossing it to the table beside his plate. “That was his lawyer on the phone. A ‘fake’ wedding won’t do. It can’t just be photos. He needs proof so he has to attend the wedding.”

“Easter is in six weeks. That doesn’t give you much time.”

“Less than that now and that’s why I am doing it this way.”

Chloe sat there quietly for a moment. “Has your invisible girlfriend ever met your family?”

“No. She works in Inverness. I go to visit her but she has a very sick mother so she can’t come and visit us. Plus, she refuses to sleep with me until we’re married.”

“Sensible woman. We have something in common.”

Nigel looked at her. “More than you realize. Her name is Chloe. She has long brown hair and brown eyes.”

Her fork dropped to the table. “Creepy again. So you picked me because I fit the bill and look like this woman you made up.”

“Something like that.” He leaned forward a little, not wanting to crowd her, but not wanting anyone to overhear him. “What I’m offering is this. A contract, drawn up by a lawyer of your choice, which will override and predate any pre-nup my brother and family lawyer make you sign. You marry me before Easter, in front of at least six witnesses, and we stay married for a year. We then annul the marriage for whatever reason you like—probably non-consummation.”

Chloe held his gaze. “And what’s in it for me?”

He paused. “In return, you get your own bedroom, and my word I won’t lay a hand on you, apart from the odd kiss or hand holding for appearances sake. You’ll also get an allowance of a grand a month. Then after a year or so when we separate, you’ll get a payoff of a hundred grand.”

Shocked wasn’t the word to describe Chloe. Color drained from her face and her hand rose to her mouth. “A hundred grand?” she whispered.

“Yes. This is purely a business arrangement. An iron clad contract drawn up by your own lawyer and kept by him. I appreciate you need to think about this, but time is of the essence. There is a four week wait on the certificates and I have to do this by Easter.”

She looked at her watch. “I have to go, I’m afraid. I have another class in ten minutes. I’ll give this some serious consideration and let you have your answer on the twentieth.” She slid into her coat and held out a hand. “Good day, Dr. Turner.”

Nigel stood. “Miss Wilkes.”

He sat as she left. His mind whirled.

She was pretty and forthright. She wasn’t put off by his job and Archie would hate her because of all those things. Would she say yes? Because Chloe Wilkes was a woman he could definitely live with.

****

Chloe snuggled into her coat as she took rapid steps back to the ballet school. Nigel was everything she’d imagined he would be. With one exception—his harebrained scheme to marry someone in six weeks. Who would be crazy enough to do that? To pick some random stranger and propose marriage the first time they met?

He would, and she just happened to be the random stranger he picked. Why was she even considering the idea? The money? Admittedly that had to be a good reason. But she wasn’t that materialistic, was she?

The ballet school loomed before her. With that much money she could sell up. Open a new school somewhere else. Somewhere her family wasn’t hovering over her shoulder and, however misguided it may be, interfering with her life. She needed a fresh start. And Nigel could just be her ticket out of here.

She paused. Did that make her decision as bad as his? Yes, he wanted to get married for totally the wrong reasons, and maybe she was playing with fire for even considering this. Was this the way out she’d been praying for? Why didn’t he drive? Was it the money or was there a more sinister reason behind him wanting to be in the back of the limo with someone?

Whatever the reasons, she didn’t have time to think about it now. Ten more children waited inside for a ballet lesson. Then, she had the end of term performance to plan and schedule into the diary.

Nigel and his offer of an arranged marriage would have to wait a few hours.

She allowed herself a small smile as she entered the building. At least she’d get to see him again. At least once more time and her heart leapt at the thought. She could easily look at him every day for the next year and not regret a single second of it.