The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

reached up and cupped Megan’s cheek. “You have good eyes. And a lovely smile. I know you’ll make my son very happy.”
    Oh man.
    Could guilt actually kill a person?
    The next couple of hours passed in a blur. Dinner and cake were served, and never once did anyone mention the fact that the bride had been exchanged at the last minute. The handful of people attending the ceremony were there for Simon and apparently, Megan thought, Simon Pearce wielded even more power than her father. Enough so that a change of bride didn’t merit the flicker of an eyelash.
    By the time the party was over and Megan was back in the bride’s room changing into her own clothes, she felt as though it had all been a strange sort of stage play. And now that the play was over, the lead actress could go back to her everyday job.
    Until Simon opened the door.
    “Hey!” She snatched up the wedding dress she’d just peeled off and held it to her chest like a Victorian maiden. “Do you mind?”
    “Not at all,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting as he stepped into the small antechamber and closed the door behind him.
    Megan blew out a breath and glared at him.
    It didn’t faze him.
    “I’d like a little privacy,” she said when it became clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
    “We’re married now, Megan,” he retorted and sat down on an armchair near the door.
    “We don’t even know each other,” she remindedhim and sidestepped to the adjoining bathroom, still clutching the dress in front of her.
    “We have to start somewhere.”
    “Not while I’m undressed.”
    “Fine. I’ll close my eyes.”
    She opened the bathroom door, stepped behind it and peeked around the corner at him. “I don’t trust you.”
    “Hardly the start of a happy marriage,” he said, head tipped back, eyes closed.
    Working quickly, Megan dropped the wedding gown and reached around behind her for her skirt and blouse. Pulling her clothes on, she talked while she moved. “This isn’t your ordinary marriage though, is it?”
    “It could be,” he said.
    She sneaked another peek at him. Eyes still closed. That was something, she supposed, and hurriedly buttoned up her blouse, then tucked the hem beneath the waistband of her skirt.
    “Your mother likes me,” she said.
    “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
    “It is. We’re lying to her. And I don’t like it.”
    “I’ll explain everything to my mother.”
    “Good. She seems nice.” Megan bent down, grabbed up one of her black three-inch heels and slipped it on, then did the same with the other.
    Finally dressed and feeling just a little more in control of the situation, she stepped out from behindthe open bathroom door and said, “It’s okay, you can open your eyes now.”
    He did, then stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were an Ashton?”
    She cocked her head to one side and stared up at him. “I worked with you for a month, Simon. It wasn’t a secret.”
    “But you never said.”
    “You never asked.”
    “True,” he admitted, then unbuttoned his suit jacket, brushed the edges of the jacket back and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I should have. As it is, you being an Ashton is going to make this more…complicated.”
    “How?”
    Late-afternoon sunlight shone through the windows overlooking the gardens and the pool beyond. The scent of roses filled the air, riding on a soft breeze that swept through the partially opened window.
    “The newspapers will be more interested than ever in our marriage. You must see that.”
    She hadn’t thought of it, but she supposed he was right. Heaven knew the media was always hounding her father about one thing or another. But growing up in the public eye, she tended to forget about it. Now though, she was beginning to see that being the daughter of a powerful man and the wife of another could make her more interesting to photographers and reporters.
    “It’s just for a year,” she reminded him.
    “Yes, but now it’s more important than ever that we present the facade of a real marriage.” He took two steps away, stared out the window, then shifted her a look. “The honeymoon in Fiji is a good start of course.” He checked his watch and nodded to himself as if making a mental note. “We’ll just have time for you to pack—don’t worry about bringing a lot, we’ll make a quick stop in Paris so you can shop.”
    An offer that would have had most women quivering in