by Jaci Burton
This had to stop. It was time to put his plan into action.
Faith found Ryan's behavior very odd. She wasn't sure what was bothering him, but lately he'd been shadowing her like a personal bodyguard.
It couldn't be because he was attracted to her. She'd already surmised his disappointment was that her transformation hadn't turned out the way he'd hoped. But still, she went along with the new hairstyle and wardrobe.
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full of almost everything she'd tried on at Saks. And Margaret was tight-lipped about where her old clothes had gone.
So she wore the new ones and had to admit, enjoyed them. They were lighter weight than what she used to wear, and lifted her spirits considerably. She loved putting on the different styles and textures, luxuriating in the feel of silk against her skin, or cashmere brushing up against her neck.
Despite the fact she now wore designer clothes and no longer put her hair up in a bun, nothing else had changed.
Interestingly enough, the office staff paid more attention to her now.
Especially the guys. Faith had no idea what to make of that. Maybe they were buttering her up and being nice to her because she was married to the boss and they didn't want to get on her bad side.
She didn't have a bad side. Nor had she ever paid any attention to the men before. And certainly not now.
Marriage in name only or not, she was married. She took her vows seriously, even if her marriage wasn't a real one. And she wouldn't entertain notions of any other men. She could barely figure out what to do with the one she married.
"Faith."
Ryan peered out of his office. Again. "Yes?"
"We have a business dinner tonight at Markham's Restaurant. Eight o'clock. I'd like you to accompany me. Paul Worthington is bringing his wife, Jenelle."
Faith nodded. "All right, I'll make a note of that."
A business dinner. Her first social event as Ryan's wife.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of going out in public as Ryan's wife. She hoped she'd handle herself appropriately. At least she had something decent to wear.
Faith showered and changed into a soft beige Chanel dress with a scoop neck, accentuated with a wide gold belt at the waist. She slipped 88
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on matching shoes and wound her hair up in a twist, leaving several tendrils escaping at the side of her face.
She had to admit the look worked. Since her new haircut, she'd bought a couple fashion magazines and played with some loose and easy styles for her new, shorter hair, just for a change of pace. The upsweep looked, well, elegant.
But underneath the clothes and hair was the same old Faith. You can change the packaging as much as you want, but the product remains the same.
"Are you ready?" Ryan stepped out of the dressing area, impeccably attired in a black suit, simple white shirt and designer tie.
Faith sighed. "Yes."
His eyes traveled the length of her body, warming her from the inside out. His lips quirked into the hint of a smile.
"You look very nice," he said in a voice so deep it vibrated her nerve endings.
"Thank you."
They started for the door but Ryan stopped her. "Wait a second, I forgot something." He went to his dresser and pulled out a long black box. "This is for you."
Faith gasped. Inside the box lay an exquisite necklace of princess cut canary diamonds with matching drop earrings. She looked up at Ryan's pleased face.
Surely he didn't mean this jewelry for her. It was worth a fortune.
There must have been over fifty sparkling diamonds adorning the front of the necklace, strung on an elegant gold chain.
"You want me to wear these tonight?" They matched her dress perfectly.
"Of course."
She peered down at the necklace and back at Ryan, shaking her head.
His brows furrowed. "They're a gift, Faith. For you."
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"Why?"
"Because you're my wife. And because I wanted to give you a gift."
His eyes were a raging bonfire, ever darkening smoke swirling through and mesmerizing her like a hypnotist.
"Turn around and I'll put the necklace on you."
As he leaned forward to drape the necklace over her and closed the clasp, his chest brushed against her back. His hands warmed her skin, lightly caressing the side of her throat with his thumbs.
It was impossible to concentrate when he touched her like that. She waited for him to step away, but he didn't. Instead she felt the press of his lips against the side of her neck, evoking desire so fierce she panicked. She quickly moved away and turned, escaping that fire only to see it still reflected in his smoky eyes.
"The necklace is lovely, Ryan. Thank you."
He gave her a knowing smile and nodded. "You're welcome. Put the earrings on. We'd better leave so we're not late."
"Paul and Jenelle Worthington are a prominent Las Vegas couple, frequently occupying the cover page of Las Vegas Style magazine," Ryan explained on the way to the restaurant. "They're both from old money."
"Old money?"
"Yeah. Paul's family has been building hotels and casinos in the Las Vegas area for almost as long as hotels have been around."
"So, why the dinner tonight?"
He shifted the Ferrari's gears. "Paul's looking to retire. The Worthingtons have no heirs to take over for them, so he wants to sell ownership in some of his hotels in order to make his business more manageable."
"And McKay Corporation wants some of those hotels."
Ryan smiled. "You got it."
Faith tried not to fidget as they approached the restaurant. She had frequently accompanied Ryan to business events. But this was business 90
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mixed with her first social appearance as his wife. She didn't want to screw this up.
"What's wrong?" Ryan asked as he whipped the vehicle around a corner.
The restaurant was only a few miles ahead. Faith inhaled deeply, trying to quell the flutters in her stomach. This was one of those times she wished Ryan didn't drive so fast. She managed a smile. "Nothing."
"You're not nervous, are you?"
She kept her eyes glued to the road, watching every sign, every landmark, pass at breakneck speed.
"Me? Nervous? Of course not. What would I have to be nervous about? It's just dinner, right? Just the Worthingtons. I know how important this dinner is, and I'll try my best to do everything right. I mean, the Worthingtons have several hotels and if you bought them it could be quite a boon to McKay Corporation. I should probably have done some research on them before we left the office, then maybe--"
"Faith," Ryan interrupted.
She looked at him and drew a hasty breath. "Yes?"
"You're blabbering."
"I am?"
"Yeah, you are. Relax." He placed his hand on her knee, squeezing it gently.
Right, like that was going to calm her down. As if her heartbeat wasn't already racing, the heat emanating from his hand burned into the bare skin of her leg.
Then it got worse. His fingers trailed lightly above her knee. She wondered if Ryan kept any paper bags in the car. She felt an anxiety attack coming on and knew she'd be hyperventilating soon. Or maybe she'd just throw up.
"Calm down. There's nothing to be nervous about."
Easy for him to say. He did this social stuff all the time. Social for Faith was the weekly trek to the grocery store and a chat with the www.samhainpublishing.com 91
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produce manager over the price of tomatoes. Those trips didn't entail having witty conversation.
"I'm not nervous."
&n
bsp; He smiled. "Yes, you are. And stop it. It's just dinner."
Markham's Restaurant was an up and coming establishment, luring the elite clientele with the hiring of one of New York City's premier chefs.
Getting a reservation less than a month in advance was next to impossible. Unless you were Ryan McKay.
The valet opened their doors, then drove away to park the car. Ryan placed his hand on the small of her back and led her inside. The intimacy of that possessive touch wasn't lost on her.
The restaurant was dark, a place for intimate conversation without fear of being overheard. Ryan stepped up to the hostess, who smiled in recognition.
"Mr. McKay," the young woman said in a honey-like voice that matched her long hair. "So nice to see you again."
Ryan nodded. "Michelle. Is our table ready?"
"Of course." Michelle grabbed two menus and led them to a booth in the back of the room. Tuxedo-clad waiters silently scurried about, unobtrusive but always available.
"The Worthingtons will be joining us shortly," he said to Michelle, who informed Ryan she'd bring them to the table as soon as they arrived.
No sooner had they sat down than their waiter arrived and Ryan ordered a bottle of wine.
Faith rubbed her fingertips against the white linen tablecloth. A vase of roses centered the table, along with two deep red tapered candles.
She'd never been to Markham's before. The restaurant was dark and intimate--a perfect place for lovers to sit alone in the shadows. She took a sip of water from a crystal glass, her throat gone completely dry.
The waiter soon returned with a bottle of white wine, something French that Faith had never heard of. She sipped the smooth, dry chardonnay.
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"Do you like the jewelry?" Ryan asked.
Honestly, she'd forgotten all about it. She wasn't really a jewelry person, in fact rarely wore it. "Yes, it's lovely. Thank you, again."
"It looks good against your skin." His eyes dwelled on her chest. Faith squirmed.
"Thank you." She wished he wouldn't look at her like that. His intense eyes darkened whenever they roamed over her body. "I don't usually wear jewelry."
He quirked a brow. "Really? I thought diamonds were a girl's best friend."
That made her smile. "Not this girl's. I'm not one to adorn myself with jewels. One, because of the cost, and two, it just seems, I don't know, superfluous somehow."
He looked toward the front of the restaurant and didn't say another word. But he seemed disappointed.
Before she could ask what she had said wrong, Paul and Jenelle Worthington were escorted to the table. Ryan stood, shook Paul's hand and planted a light peck on Jenelle's cheek.
"Paul, Jenelle, this is my wife, Faith."
Faith stood to greet Ryan's guests, pasting on her biggest and hopefully most professional smile. "I'm pleased to meet both of you," she said and held out her hand.
Paul shook her hand. A robust man, he looked more like a professional wrestler than a successful hotelier. Big and burly with a thick neck, he had silvery hair swept back in waves and an extremely tan complexion owing obviously to hours spent in Nevada's year-round sun.
Jenelle was tall and lithe, impeccably dressed and adorned in diamonds. Her shimmery blonde hair was bobbed and swept behind her ears, and nary a wrinkle showed on her face. Whether that was due to plastic surgery or great genetics Faith couldn't tell.
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"Darling, it's so nice to meet you," Jenelle said to Faith. She tapped Ryan's hand. "How long has this been going on, and why didn't we know about it?"
Ryan smiled. "We kept it a secret."
"Obviously," Jenelle said, her gaze flitting between Ryan and Faith as if she were looking for hidden messages. "And you were Ryan's...uhh...secretary?"
The raised eyebrows and patronizing look told Faith in an instant what Jenelle thought of her. "His executive assistant. And I still am," she replied.
"You mean you're still working?" Jenelle's hand flew to her throat in horror.
Faith tried not to smile. "Yes, I am."
"Quit badgering the girl, Jen," Paul admonished. The waiter brought him a double scotch, which he promptly downed in one gulp and asked for another.
"I'm not badgering her at all, dear." Jenelle shot her husband a scathing glare before turning her inquisitive brown eyes back to Faith.
"I'm merely getting acquainted with Ryan's lovely new wife."
Faith drew back as Jenelle leaned into her, so close their noses practically touched.
"Tell me, dear," Jenelle whispered. "Did that bad boy Ryan marry you because he got you pregnant?"
It was going to be a long evening. Faith took a deep breath and prepared for the inquisition.
On the way home, Faith mentally replayed the events of the evening.
She hoped she'd said and done all the right things. Ryan and Paul had immersed themselves in business through dinner, while Faith endured Jenelle's barrage of questions about her life, her past, her education and social ambitions.
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Social ambitions? She had none. When she couldn't come up with a list of social obligations, Jenelle had been horrified.
Was she supposed to volunteer for some committee? Join the Bridge Club? What? She made a mental note to ask Ryan about it later.
When they arrived home, Faith went upstairs to prepare for bed and Ryan marched into his office without a word to her.
Had she done something to upset him? At the beginning of the evening, when he gave her the jewelry, she could have sworn she read desire in his eyes.
Obviously she'd been wrong. Like she'd know what desire in a man's eyes looked like. She was certainly no expert there.
So why had he been so quiet on the way home? She'd been nice to the Worthingtons and hadn't done or said anything that should have embarrassed him.
Maybe men got moody too, just like women.
Faith hung her dress in the closet and slipped on her nightgown. She slid into bed and turned off the light.
The bed seemed overly large without Ryan in it, despite the fact she continued to keep her distance from him. She wasn't ready yet to make that intimate leap with her new husband.
But, still, the bed was too large for her to sleep in alone. Funny how quickly one's perspective could change.
Faith needed her husband in bed with her.
Ryan sat at his desk, pondering where his mission had gone wrong.
He'd bought her jewelry. Women loved jewelry. They gushed, they ooohed, they aaahed, then they jumped gratefully into bed with you.
So, why hadn't Faith?
Damn, she had looked incredible tonight. The dress clung to her curves, accentuating a body he was dying to get his hands on, and wasn't allowed to touch. Yet. He made a last ditch attempt to will the lustful feelings away.
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They wouldn't leave. And despite his carefully planned round one, he was downstairs in his office, and she was upstairs in their bed.
The bed where obviously no lovemaking would occur tonight.
The diamond idea had been a complete bust. Faith acted as if he'd purchased them on some television shopping network for twenty dollars.
Nothing. A polite thank you and that was it.
Why hadn't he noticed that the only jewelry she wore was her wedding ring?
Faith wasn't like other women. Obviously.
He stood and paced the dark-paneled office, skirting the oversized desk and plopping down on the plump sofa. He propped his feet on the glass coffee table, leaned back and laced his fingers together behind his neck.
Jewelry didn't do it for her. Fine, then. He had other ideas. Which strategy to employ next?
He glanced at the calendar on the wall and thought a
moment. Yes, this would be a good time. Things were going well at work. Nothing pressing coming up. He could afford to take a few days off.
He loosened his tie, went back to his desk and pulled out his scheduler.
A few telephone calls and round two would be in action.
This one would work. This one would get Faith into his bed, only there wouldn't be any sleeping.
With a satisfied grin, he picked up the telephone.
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Chapter Eight
Faith couldn't believe she was actually on a plane heading to Hawaii.
And not a commercial airline either, but the McKay corporate jet.
Ryan was full of surprises. He'd shocked her early this morning when he announced they were going to take a few days off and go to Hawaii.
At first she thought he'd been joking, but he hadn't been. With a stern look and a glance at his watch, Ryan had informed her she had approximately one hour to throw a few things in a suitcase and get ready to leave.
Why he decided on this trip, she didn't know. But, she had to go along, as did both James and Stan.
James arrived downstairs in a less than jovial mood. They left at a little past seven in the morning, and James usually didn't rise until well after noon. But then again, Ryan told her, James always stayed out partying until almost dawn. No wonder he was tired.
Stan looked wide-eyed and ready to go, apparently more than happy to take the trip to Hawaii. That didn't surprise her, since he worked only for the McKays and could conduct his business from anywhere.
Now the four of them were shortly to land on the island of Oahu.
Stan worked on his laptop, James was asleep and snoring loudly and Ryan was on the phone.
Faith gawked out the window, amazed at the expanse of ocean below her. She'd never been to Hawaii, although she'd always dreamed of it.
She'd expressed her delight about the trip to Ryan, who'd only smiled enigmatically as he packed his things.
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When she'd asked him if the trip was business or pleasure, his only comment was, "Pleasure, I hope. And lots of it." He'd said it with a huge grin like he'd just eaten the best dessert of his life.
Men were so strange.
The pilot announced it was time to land. Faith watched the descent of the plane into the islands with the excitement of a child, anxious to get out and explore.
The islands looked so small, she thought as they circled in preparation for landing. It was hard to believe that these tiny little islands held such attraction for so many mainlanders. But then again, her own heart pumped in anticipation of setting foot in the tropics.