The Fiancée Fiasco Read Online Free Page B

no one was going to simply hand it to me."
    He tilted his head. "Sounds like you and me learned the same lesson."
    Roseanne frowned. "I thought your father was an oil baron." The son of an oil baron scarcely rated in her book as someone who'd had to claw his way up in the world.
    "He was—still is, in fact." Carruthers could not disguise the quiet pride in his voice as he added, "But he didn't give me a thing to start Carruthers Engineering. Was against the whole idea from the beginning. In fact, he refused to pay for my graduate work in aeronautics. Thought it was a waste of time."
    Roseanne was fascinated despite herself. "What does he think now?"
    Carruthers shrugged. "According to my father, there is nothing in the world but oil." His face darkened. "Which is why this damn newspaper rumor about Sylvia is going to get all out of hand."
    "What does one thing have to do with the other?"
    "Everything." His mouth twisted wryly. "Sylvia's daddy and mine were longtime rivals in the oil business. But they're both getting old. My father has no one to pass his company to. I'm not interested, and neither are my sisters." He sighed. "The idea was that once Sylvia and I were married the two companies would merge. Sylvia has brothers. They'd take over. It would all stay in the family."
    "But you were married for six years! Surely the merger was accomplished in that amount of time."
    "Not the way my daddy and Sylvia's do business." Carruthers shook his head. "They wrangled over that thing until—well, it became something of a hobby with them, each trying to get one last concession out of the other."
    Roseanne took a moment to think it out. "So now your father wouldn't mind seeing you remarry Sylvia. Then he could effect the merger and see that the company passed on to the next generation."
    "You get the picture." Carruthers settled into his seat and fastened his lap belt. The metal tongue slid into the other side with the ease of butter.
    "Your father isn't going to be happy when he finds out you don't actually intend to remarry Sylvia."
    "To say the least." Carruthers closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Oh, it'll just be one more disappointment in a long chain."
    Since when did an engineering genius who'd started his own successful company from scratch rate as a disappointment?
    Roseanne still didn't care for Winthrop Carruthers. He was still a man who'd left his young, defenseless wife. But she was starting to understand him a little bit better. That was all to the good, of course. The more she knew about her prey, the better.
    And she knew enough to wait until they were safely airborne to reopen negotiations. "Back to business, then," she said, once they'd lifted off.
    He opened one eye at her. "What business?" Wariness was back in his voice. Roseanne had never met a man of a more suspicious nature. It was the more annoying in that he had every right to be suspicious.
    "If I find a way to put an end to the rumors, now and forever, that you're going to remarry Sylvia, will you sign Covington March onto a retainer agreement?"
    He let out a disbelieving breath. "You think you have a way to do that?"
    "I know I do."
    He smiled. This time the thing took hold and lasted more than a breath. "Fine. I agree." He still didn't believe her. It made him reckless. "You do that and I'll hire CovMarch back on again."
    "And make it clear that I was responsible for convincing you?"
    The smile broadened. It pestered her with an inconvenient pang of guilt. He was walking right into her trap. "Sure, I'll make it clear you were responsible."
    "It's a deal, then." Roseanne held out her hand.
    "A deal." Carruthers shook her hand in all good faith. It was done. Roseanne was quite sure that he would not back out on a deal. Her certainty on this score was perhaps odd, given that the man had already proved himself capable of backing out on a marriage. But business was different from romance.
    Arranging his long legs in front of himself, Carruthers