She nibbled on her bread. “Won’t that look suspicious, you leaving so soon after our marriage?”
“It might, so we’ll have to make things look good. Daily phone calls, something that proves we’re talking to each other. My father’s lawyers are merciless. They hired private eyes on behalf of my father when I was in college to report back about my transgressions.”
“Isn’t that extreme?”
“My father offered kickbacks, lucrative kickbacks for every offence they found. I doubt anything has changed since his death.” Because Blake didn’t want to dive into more family history quite yet, he asked, “Do you have a passport?”
“Not since I was twenty and the Feds took it. There shouldn’t be a problem with me obtaining one. In any event, it will be a good excuse as to why I’m not with you.” She was smiling now, waking up as she finished her first cup of coffee. He didn’t think his switch of subjects went unnoticed, but she kept any questions she had to herself. “I’ll start the paperwork on Monday.”
“Sounds good.”
“I was thinking, last night when I couldn’t sleep, if I should change my name or not. A lot of women keep their names even after they marry. It might be easier.” She sat forward and dished up some scrambled eggs.
He didn’t like the sound of that, and would question why later. “If we had married for love and not for convenience, would you have taken my name?”
“But we didn’t.”
“But what if we had?”
She glanced down at the family ring he’d placed on her finger the day before. “Yes, I probably would have.”
He finished his coffee with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Then you change your name. I don’t want anyone questioning anything. We’ll have enough obstacles to overcome with you and I living the majority of this year on different continents.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but sighed instead. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m going to set up an account for you before I leave, and give you the keys to my house here.” The thought of her walking around his house in a fuzzy white robe brought a smile to his face.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“I disagree,” he said, dishing up his own eggs, sausage, and toast. “I wouldn’t leave a wife without resources.”
“Fine, but I won’t use them. I don’t need your money, at least not now that you’ve taken care of Jordan, and I have my own place.” She chewed her food slowly before swallowing.
“I still owe you your twenty percent. Use the account, Samantha. My wife wouldn’t go without and I won’t have people saying I’m not taking care of you.”
She dropped her hand to the table. “I won’t ruin your image, Blake.”
“You will if you’re driving an old car and skimping on personal items. I’m not suggesting you buy a yacht, just don’t shop at the big box stores.” He pictured the media catching her in WalMart and cringed.
“You realize how snobby that sounds, right?’
“I don’t care. My girlfriends shopped at designer stores, my wife won’t be taking dresses off the sale rack.” Blake noticed her jaw tighten and prepared himself for an argument.
“Is there something wrong with how I dress?”
Oh, boy… he was walking in a minefield without a lead jacket. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh, yes you did.”
He stopped eating. “You know I’m right about this.”
Her lips twitched but she didn’t deny him. “Fine.”
“Good.” I won. Lord, when was the last time he’d argued with a woman about not wanting to spend his money? He found a smile on his lips.
“What’s so funny?”
Her eyes were sparkling with unreleased fury. They were drop-dead gorgeous.
“I think we just had our first marital spat.”
Her shoulders slumped and folded in with laughter. “I guess we did.”
“And I won,” he pointed out.
Samantha fixed him with a heated stare. “Don’t expect that to continue.”
No, he mused. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d win every time. However, winning the first placed a certain amount of whip cream on top of his marital pie.
Chapter Four
Twenty-six hours after they said I do, the media found Samantha and Blake as they disembarked from Blake’s jet. Thank God she had the foresight to bring large framed sunglasses to hide the stress in her eyes. The media hadn’t changed since her father’s arrest. They blocked their way, snapped pictures, and asked questions.
Blake kept a possessive arm around her waist as he ushered her from the airport. With any luck, someone in Hollywood would fall off the wagon and remove the spotlight by the end of the weekend; otherwise, she’d be dealing with the paparazzi alone. Blake called out little things as they passed, words like, the love of my life and she knocked my socks off. He sounded so sincere. If she wasn’t in on his ploy, even she would have believed him. At one point, Blake dipped his lips to her ear and whispered, “It will be worse in Europe so take hold of your inner snob and smile.”
She laughed and leaned against him to make her way around a car door. The photo snapped at that moment made it on all major television channels and three tabloids magazines.
Blake’s friend Carter turned out to be a surprise. His blond hair and surfer good looks were opposite of her husband. He was smart, pragmatic, and had a killer sense of humor. He’d given Sam his cell phone number and encouraged her to use it if she needed anything while Blake was out of town.