by Leanne Banks
Michael silently looked at her, disappeared into the bathroom for a second and she heard the jets of a shower. Michael returned and headed straight for her. “You look whiter than that dress,” he said, kneeling down to tug off her shoes. “Stand,” he instructed.
“What are you—?”
“Just do what I say,” he said, and, as soon as she stood, he unzipped the back of her dress.
Shock raced through her. “What—”
In one sweeping movement, he pushed down the dress and slip, then tugged down her stockings. Her face flaming from her sudden partial nudity, she stuttered. “I—I—”
Before she knew it, he’d unsnapped her bra and lifted her off the floor. He carried her to the double shower and gently nudged her inside.
Kate stood in front of the water too stunned to move. Seconds passed and Michael, naked, joined her. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he pushed her under the spray.
She shook her head. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“You were locking up,” he told her.
“I hate the pretending,” she said, slowly taking in the strength and warmth of his body. Something real and warm on a day that had felt unreal and cold. Rivulets of water turned his muscular arms shiny and plastered the spray of chest hair downward. Her gaze traveled to his abdomen and further—to his hard thighs and potent masculinity. He was now her husband.
“No more pretending.” He dipped his head to her chest and slid his tongue over the top of her breast.
Kate shuddered and lifted her hands, needing to hold on to his shoulders. He looked down at her, water droplets clinging to his dark eyelashes. “Let’s seal the deal,” he said, his sensual tone at odds with the businesslike words. He took her mouth in an endless claiming kiss as the water showered down on them.
Her nipples glanced his chest and she was all too aware of the swollen bulge against her abdomen. Kate’s temperature suddenly shot up. She needed the end of pretending. She wanted to feel.
He continued to eat at her mouth while his fingers traveled with abandon over her slippery skin. He touched her shoulders, then her breasts. He plucked at her tender nipples and skimmed his hands down to her abdomen, rubbing as if her pregnancy was already showing. Then he moved his hands lower between her thighs, caressing and pleasuring her with his fingers.
A flush of heat stole over her body at the sensations he created. He made her want so much, ache so powerfully. She kissed him with the same urgency he created inside her. Her hands grew restless and she savored the sensation of the wet skin of his chest and abdomen, and lower.
He gave a rough growl of approval that rippled throughout her nerve endings. “I want you in every way,” he said and moved his mouth down her body. As if he’d been denied too long, he consumed her. He took her breast in his mouth, suckled her hardened nipple, and she sensed he couldn’t get enough. He treated her other breast to the same carnal pleasure, then skimmed his tongue down her abdomen.
Kate held her breath in suspended anticipation as she felt his seductive tongue trace a path of liquid fire over her skin. Dropping to a knee, he rubbed his cheek against her tummy and thigh, and took her intimately with his mouth. He stroked her sensitive, swollen femininity with his wicked tongue, taking her over the edge until her knees began to buckle.
Michael caught her before she fell, slowly rising up her body at the same time that he moved his hands up her legs to her waist. His eyes dark with primitive need, he pressed her back against the cool tile of the shower wall. “Hang on,” he said and urged her legs around his waist.
His gaze holding her and claiming her with the same insistence as his body, he eased her down on his hardness with a slow, sure thrust.
Everything about him, his body, his gaze, said you are mine. “Oh, Kate,” he muttered. “You feel so good.”
Sucking in a deep breath, he pumped inside her, erotically massaging her femininity with each stroke. Kate felt the rush of her climax like a landslide roaring through her. She stiffened, clenching around him.
He swore and through the haze of her own peak, she watched his pleasure roll through him. Still holding her tightly, he dipped his head against her shoulder and glanced her bare skin with a kiss.
“Does it feel more real now?” he whispered.
Kate curled her arms around him, inhaling his essence. “Yes.”
Two hours later, Kate awakened to the sight of Michael sleeping beside her. She knew it was an unusual sight, because he found the need for sleep a nuisance more than anything else.
Her husband, she thought, and felt her heart race. Waking up to Michael Hawkins was like waking up to a powerful, wild animal in her bed. The dark fringe of eyelashes softened a picture of chiseled angles on his face and a hard, muscular body built for endurance.
Kate wondered what he dreamed. She tentatively lifted her hand toward him to touch his hair.
His eyes flashed open and his hand snaked out to catch her wrist. Her breath caught and she stared into his tiger’s eyes.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Watching you while you sleep,” she said and smiled. “It’s so rare.”
“You weren’t just watching,” he pointed out, drawing her closer.
“I thought about touching your hair,” she said. “Next time I’ll stick to thinking so I don’t wake you up.”
He shook his head slowly, his gaze fastened on hers. “You’re invited to touch,” he said, lifting her hand to his hair.
Her heart turned a flip at the simple gesture. “I also wondered what you dream.”
“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t spend much time sleeping, so I don’t dream much.”
“Maybe,” she said skeptically. Kate had a tough time believing a man who was such a visionary didn’t have dreams. “But you have secrets, and I plan to learn those.”
His gaze turned remote. “Nothing interesting. You don’t need to trouble yourself with my secrets,” he said, then lowered his head. “Besides, this is the night of our marriage. I’ve got plans for you.”
She struggled with a vague feeling of disappointment, but he kissed her and her body grew warm, her bones turned to liquid, and her head began to swim.
They shared one night of lovemaking and left the suite the following morning after a champagne brunch conducted primarily in the nude. Kate had to pass on the champagne because it wasn’t good for Cupcake, so Michael served her orange juice in a flute.
She still felt odd in his apartment and added touches from her place to provide some comfort. She looked at a few houses, then nixed the idea when Michael couldn’t join her. She simply didn’t feel ready to make such a big decision without his input. In the meantime, her adjustment to wifedom was rocky. Michael made love to her nearly every night, but he missed dinner with her as often as he joined her. More than one night she’d prepared a meal and he hadn’t arrived home until after nine o’clock. It occurred to her that she’d known his schedule when he’d been her boss, but it hadn’t bothered her too much then. “I didn’t prepare the food, then,” she muttered to herself as she glanced at the clock. “It wasn’t my meal that got cold.”
Michael breezed in the door. “Smells great, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to meet the guys at O’Malley’s.”
“Guys? Excuse me?” She glanced at the chicken parmesan and wondered how he could possibly prefer O’Malley’s.
He brushed a lingering kiss to her lips and pulled his tie loose. “I promised Justin and Dylan I’d meet them two nights ago and forgot. If I don’t show tonight, they might come knocking here, and I don’t want them scaring my new bride.”
“But dinner—”
“—looks great,” he told her. “I’ll eat when I get home. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Okay,” she said, but it didn’t feel okay when he walked out the door and she looked at the uneaten meal on the table. Sighing, she shrugged and put the meal into the refrigerator. She heard a ringing noise, but couldn’t place it. It stop
ped, then started again. Kate followed the noise to the bedroom and found Michael’s cell phone on the bed.
“Must’ve forgotten it,” she said and picked up.
“Hello?”
A pause followed. “I think I have the wrong number.”
“You probably don’t,” she said quickly. “This is Kate Adams—uh—Hawkins. Michael’s wife,” she said, the reality still foreign to her.
“Bill Reynolds from Legal. I’ve got some urgent news. Could Michael return my call as soon as possible?”
“Yes,” she said, wondering at the worried tone in Bill’s voice. She promptly called O’Malley’s, but there was a baseball game on the bar TV and the noise was so loud neither she nor the bartender could hear each other. Giving up, Kate got in her car and drove to the bar. It took her a few moments to spot Michael and his two friends at the far end of the room. She walked up behind them and overheard Dylan.
“I have to say I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long,” he said. “Your bride was as pale as a sheet and you looked like you were gearing yourself for a marathon.”
“This guy is stuck in the worst way. He didn’t get her to sign a pre-nup,” Justin said.
Dylan looked at Michael as if he’d lost his mind. “Where was your head?”
“That’s obvious,” Justin said. “Michael explained it to me. He said he married her for regular sex and because he’d knocked her up.”
Kate’s stomach gave a vicious twist. She blinked. Justin’s words reverberated in her brain. Regular sex, knocked her up. A dozen emotions raced through her, all of them painful. She thought of the nights they’d shared in Michael’s bed and the nights she’d prepared a meal for her husband and he hadn’t bothered to show. Humiliation crowded her throat. She felt like a fool.
“Hey lady, you’re standing in the middle of the walkway,” a man loudly said.
Kate blinked and stumbled to the side. As if in slow motion, she saw Michael turn around and spot her.
“Kate,” he said, surprise on his face. “What—?”
She wanted to be anywhere but here, anyone but his wife. She thrust his cell phone at him. “You left your cell phone at home. Bill Reynolds from Legal called. He said it’s urgent. Bye,” she said, and raced away, headed anywhere except to Michael Hawkins’s apartment.
Eight
Michael slowed his car as he neared the home for unwed teenage mothers. He spotted Kate’s Volkswagen in the small parking lot and something inside him eased. He’d found her and she was at least physically okay.
Parking his car, he grabbed the flowers from the passenger seat, stepped out and slammed the car door behind him. He adjusted his tie and strode toward the building.
Kate hadn’t returned to his apartment last night. Nor had she gone to her old duplex or to Donna’s. Michael had almost called her parents, but Kate’s protectiveness of them had given him pause. He suspected he knew what had made her run. She’d clearly overheard Justin shooting off his mouth.
Seeing her ashen face had caused something inside him to shift. He knew her open affection for him was something precious, and in one moment, he’d lost it. More evidence of the capriciousness of human emotion, he thought cynically.
Although Michael couldn’t blame Kate for her response, he refused to let her go. In his mind and gut, her leaving was not an option. Now he had to convince her.
He climbed the front porch steps and rang the doorbell to the old house. A young, very pregnant woman answered the door. She glanced at the roses in his hand then looked at him quizzically. “Yes?”
“I’m here for my wife,” Michael said. “Kate Hawkins.”
The teen nodded in recognition. “Oh, Kate Adams,” she said, then smiled. “You’ll have to get in line. She’s in the back finishing a tutoring session. This way.”
Michael followed the young woman down a long hallway and saw Kate working with another young, very pregnant woman in front of a computer. He drank in the sight of her, surprised by how much the tension inside him eased. She appeared incredibly focused, yet vulnerable. At first glance, she looked as if she were completely composed. Dressed in a black skirt and blouse, she exuded competence. That was a big part of the reason he’d hired her. Michael looked closer, however, and saw hints of shadows under her eyes, and her smile was strained.
“I like your idea of sending résumés from the home to local companies for the residents to perform off-site computer work. After you complete your list, you can just use mail merge to—”
“You have a visitor, Kate,” Michael’s guide said.
Confusion crossed Kate’s face. “Visitor?”
Her glance fell on him and Michael felt an arctic blast. His stomach sank. This was not going to be easy. “I brought you roses,” he said, stepping forward to offer them to her.
“They’re beautiful,” her student said with a trace of envy.
“Yes, they are,” Kate murmured and set them down. “Would you excuse me for a moment while I talk with—” She broke off as if she were reluctant to call him her husband. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then turned to him. “Outside.”
Coming from a man, those words may have led Michael to expect a bloody brawl. His sense of unease tightened in the back of his throat. But he forced the words out anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said as they stepped out onto the front porch.
Surprise flickered across her face. “For what?”
“For Justin shooting off his mouth and hurting you last night.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “According to Justin, he was just repeating your words.”
Frustration bucked through him. “Justin was giving me a hard time the day we got married. He’s got even more of a bottom-line mentality than I do. I just gave him some facts about marriage on his level to get him off my back.”
“He was giving you a hard time?” she repeated.
“He thought I shouldn’t marry you and that we should do a pre-nup.”
“Perhaps you should have followed his advice.”
Michael tamped down his anger at her words. “No. I knew marrying you was the right choice, and I sure as hell didn’t need a pre-nup because you’ve made it clear you’re not after my money. Where in hell did you go last night? I checked everywhere, everyone except your parents.”
“I went to a hotel. I needed some time to think.”
“And?”
“And I’m not sure us being married is going to work.”
“I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
Her eyes shot sparks. “You didn’t have your role as a wife reduced to sex and pregnancy. I don’t think you and I share the same ideas about marriage. To put it in your terms, the synergy may not be there. You’ve said that during a merger the policies, purpose and sociology of the two companies need to complement each other and respect each other’s value. I’m afraid we may be way apart.”
Michael felt a trickle of perspiration run down his back. He told himself it was the summer heat, but the injured expression in Kate’s eyes told him he’d lost a lot of ground with her. “Then we’ll negotiate.”
She looked at him askance. “You forget that I’ve seen you negotiate, Michael. For every concession you make, you demand three.”
“We’re going to make this work,” he told her.
“That will take two.”
“What do you want?”
“The impossible,” she muttered under her breath and turned away.
He moved closer to her. “Kate,” he began.
She rounded on him. “You have no idea how humiliating it was for me to hear that. I’ve been knocking myself out trying to fix dinner for you nights when you don’t bother to come home and make a home and life for us. How silly for me to try so hard when all you want is sex and to give your baby a name. I feel like such a fool.”
The hurt emanated from her in waves. “The whole idea of marriage is foreign to me. You’re going to have to tell me what you want. This is not my area of expertise.�
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“Women don’t like to have to say everything they want. They want men to—”
“—guess,” Michael interjected. “Often incorrectly. This is too damn important to be guessing, Kate.”
She took a deep breath. “I still don’t know.”
“Quitting after a month?” he asked, challenging her pride.
Kate glowered at him. “I want to have dinner together five or six nights out of seven. I want us to go house-shopping together. Even though we didn’t have anything resembling a courtship, I’d still like to go out on a date. I want you to talk to me. I want you to need—” She broke off and shook her head as if she knew that was impossible. “I want you to let me know you. Really know you.”
Michael didn’t feel itchy until her last request. He’d almost rather trade his company than let anyone fully know him. One thing at a time. “Dinner tonight. Your choice of restaurant.”
“No,” she said.
Surprised and put off, he narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
“The place you choose says something about you. It’s another way of letting me know you.”
Choosing a restaurant was considerably less painful than spilling his guts. Michael accepted her terms. “Good, I’ll pick you up at the apartment at six-thirty.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to the apartment,” she said.
“Yes, you are,” he said, backing her against a corner post on the porch. “I may not fit your mold of the ideal husband, but there’s one very important thing I don’t do. I don’t bore you, and I’m betting just about every other man you’ve been involved with has.”
Kate gazed at him silently for a long moment. She wore a don’t-push-me expression and her black outfit hid what he knew—that her body was just beginning to show the signs of the baby she carried. He inhaled her scent. It amazed him how sexy he found her even in this tense sliver of time.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll be at the apartment tonight.”
Something inside him eased and the urge to make love to her pushed and pulled. Reining it in, he lifted her left hand and caressed her ring finger where she still wore the ring he’d given her. He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Tonight, then.”