The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

around for centuries.”
    “Yes, and didn’t they work out nicely? How many women, I wonder, ended up locked in towers or chained in dungeons…” Megan wished to heaven the man’s assistant—or keeper—or whatever the heck he was, would come back inside.
    He blew out an impatient breath. Ooh. Getting frustrated, was he?
    “There’s no dungeon at my house, I swear.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll do me this favor.”
    “It’s a little more than a favor,” she pointed out. “Favors usually consist of walking your dog or feeding your fish or—”
    “Money?” he coaxed. “How much would it take?”
    “I’ll ask my pimp,” she snapped back, insulted.
    He seemed to realize his mistake instantly and lifted both hands in apology. “Sorry. Sorry. What can I tempt you with, then?”
    “Mr. Pearce…”
    “I need to be married, Megan. There are reporters outside, television cameras. I can’t avoid them, and the gossip surrounding a jilted bridegroom is something that would hurt my business.” He scrubbed one hand across his face and suddenly looked a lot more…human than he had before. “The scandal would probably put my mother in a hospital.”
    Megan winced at the thought. Okay, it wasn’t just business he was concerned about. That made her feel better—and worse. She couldn’t marry a stranger to keep his mother out of the hospital, for heaven’s sake.
    Although, a small voice in the back of her mind taunted, her father wanted her to marry a veritable stranger for a lot more mercenary a reason.
    Instantly, she snapped back to a scene in her father’s study two nights before.
    “You’re twenty-five now, Megan,” he said, studying her as he would a horse he was considering buying.
    Megan half expected him to inspect her teeth, butkept her thoughts to herself, since Spencer Ashton was never interested in anyone’s opinion but his own.
    “And it’s time you married.”
    She scrambled for something to say, but couldn’t come up with anything. Married? She’d hardly dated in over a year—not since her last boyfriend had accepted a tidy buyout from her father.
    “And,” Spencer went on and she listened, knowing that forewarned was forearmed, “since your taste in men is abysmal, I’ve taken the liberty of finding you a suitable husband.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Husband, Megan. I’m sure you know the word.”
    “Yes, and I appreciate it, Father, but—”
    “William Jackson,” Spencer said and leaned back in his oversize, dark maroon leather chair. He braced his elbows on the armrests and studied her over his steepled fingers. “Son of Senator Jackson.”
    “Willie?” Horrified, she took a step toward the desk, amazed that her knees were still holding her upright. “You want me to marry Willie Jackson?”
    “Senator Jackson has agreed,” he said quietly, “that once our children are married, he will speed up the passage of a certain bill that will go a long way toward solidifying my enterprises here on the Coast.”
    Ah…There it was. This wasn’t about Megan, not that she’d really considered it was. This was about helping Spencer’s business. And really? Didn’t everyconversation eventually wander back to the most important thing in his life? Ashton Industries?
    “So basically,” Megan said before she could think better of it, “you get Willie a wife and the senator gives you California.”
    Spencer frowned tightly and Megan felt the very familiar sensation of a cold stone dropping to the pit of her stomach. She’d done it again. It never failed. She’d been trying most of her life to win her father’s approval, but no matter what, she always seemed to come up short.
    But Willie Jackson?
    “You could do worse. William is a fine young man from a good family.”
    Keep quiet, her brain insisted, but her tongue just didn’t get the message in time.
    “He’s an idiot,” Megan blurted. “A sweetheart, but an idiot.”
    “That’ll be enough,” Spencer muttered and sat up straight, resting his forearms atop his meticulously neat desk. “William Jackson is the man for you.”
    “Father,” Megan argued, “the man goes to sci-fi conventions with his dog.”
    Spencer winced.
    “In matching costumes,” she added.
    “You’ll help him to mature.”
    “I won’t do it.” Good heavens, had she really said that? Even as the words rushed from her mouth, Megan actually saw them, dancing in the air beforeher eyes. Like colorful