Two-Week Wife

by Miranda Lee

  Bianca’s blue eyes opened wide for a second, as did her scarlet-glossed lips. Her mouth snapped shut at the same moment her eyes narrowed. Now she didn’t look quite so happy to play this game. Her lips pouted further, as they did when she was displeased. She looked petulant, and so damned sexy he almost changed his mind about the races. The penthouse awaited upstairs, as did the longsized bed...

  But, no...He had another fantasy in mind for the penthouse. Today was mistress day.

  Besides, tonight would eventually come. And it would be all the better for the waiting.

  It was ten minutes before she returned from the dressing room, by which time he was dangling on a delicious razor’s edge of sexual tension, the like of which he’d never known before. The sight of her quite took his breath away.

  The outfit was black, as ordered. A scandalously short, tightly fitting, figure-hugging dress, with a low, wide square neckline that barely covered her nipples.

  Adam eventually dragged his eyes away from Bianca’s tiny but well-defined breasts to travel slowly downwards, past the expanse of bare tanned thighs, past slender knees and beautifully shaped calves to her erotically clad feet. The outrageously high heels lent her legs the illusion of great length, the sight of the ankle straps giving his desire for her a piquant push.

  He had never seen her looking sexier. Or less innocent.

  For a moment he imagined all the men at the races looking at her and wanting her, and was torn between wanting to hide her away for his eyes only and flaunting her for all the world to see. Something dark inside him tempted to show her off, to show everyone that at last she was his...even if it was only in the most elemental way.

  Yes, that was what he wanted, he decided with a devilish satisfaction. There would be no hiding her body away from ogling eyes, no conventional good-guy path.

  His conscience pricked a warning, but he would have none of it. This was what she wanted him to be, wasn’t it? This was what turned her on. Primitive man. The predator. The possessor.

  But then she looked at him and he saw a flicker of dismay in her eyes.

  His instant remorse annoyed him. But it was too late. His love for Bianca resurfaced with a vengeance—as did his conscience—and he knew he would not enjoy himself if Bianca was feeling that uncomfortable.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said almost regretfully. ‘Not for the races. The red silk was better. But I will take the black as well,’ he told the sales-lady in a husky aside. He just might have Bianca wear it for him one evening next week in the penthouse. They could have a private candlelit dinner together. Then afterwards...

  ‘Would your...er...wife...like some jewellery to go with her dresses?’ the sales-lady asked.

  Adam was taken aback for a second by the knowing way the woman had said the word ‘wife’. Clearly she didn’t believe Bianca was any such thing. He gave the woman an icy glare but she wasn’t fazed.

  ‘We have some exquisite costume jewellery here,’ she went on, indicating a showcase filled with dazzling pieces. ‘What about these lovely black crystal drop earrings and matching bracelet? They could only enhance madam’s striking beauty, don’t you think?’

  He did think. But when Bianca returned, wearing not only the red silk dress but the strappy black high heels, he had a moment’s doubt. Once the glamorous earrings and bracelet were in place, his doubts grew. Suddenly she looked a lot less innocent than she had earlier.

  Not that Bianca seemed concerned any more, he noted wryly. Her blue eyes were bright and shining with a return to her earlier mischievous manner. Why should he worry if she wasn’t?

  ‘I had no idea you had such beautiful taste in clothes, darling,’ she cooed as she slipped her arm through his. ‘I must have you take me shopping more often.’

  Adam gave her a droll look while he silently called himself every kind of fool. He should have made her wear the black. It would have matched her devil’s soul. There he’d been, thinking she was upset at being dressed up like a sex object. Instead, she was enjoying every perverse moment!

  ‘Any time, darling,’ he drawled. ‘I don’t mind what I spend on you as long as I get value for money.’ He looked her up and down with lazy eyes, lingering on the outline of her braless nipples under the thin red silk. ‘And there’s no doubt you look the part perfectly.’

  By the time his gaze returned to her face, Bianca’s blue eyes were flashing, the high colour in her cheeks showing that her blood was rising again.

  Good, he thought. Bianca in a temper was an incredibly passionate creature. She’d been spitting mad with him last night and look where it had got him. In bed with her. If he could not have her love then he’d settle for her body.

  His smile was darkly triumphant as he turned her round and patted her on the backside. ‘Now off you go and collect your old clothes, darling,’ he said thickly, ‘while I pay for your nice new ones.’

  All together, counting the dresses, shoes and jewellery, the bill came to a little over three thousand dollars—not counting the tip he’d given the woman. Still, in Adam’s view it had been worth every cent. This was going to be a fun afternoon after all!

  He paid with his bankcard, knowing that what he’d won at the casino this week covered it more than twice over. He could have paid cash, but he wanted to keep that for the races. He was going to bet big this afternoon, in keeping with the occasion. He’d never been on such a dangerous high before. Never felt this bold, or this deliciously bad.

  Adam was sure that if he could keep his stupid conscience out of play, he was really going to enjoy himself.

  Bianca could not stop staring at Adam as he led her back towards the bank of lifts which would carry them down to the basement car park. Partly because he looked incredibly handsome—wherever had that gorgeous grey suit come from?—but mostly because of the expression on his face. There was something dark and dangerous lurking in his cold, yet strangely hot grey eyes. Something... wicked.

  Adam being wicked held a kind of shocked fascination—especially since Bianca had spent her entire life thinking of him as a bit of a goody-twoshoes. Clearly he was far from that.

  Still, his being wicked could be fun. She’d actually enjoyed herself back in the boutique, had revelled in the whole dressing-up game. Yet the finished result was a far cry from the classily dressed My Fair Lady, off to Royal Ascot. She looked more like Suzie Wong, ready for a night on the town. If her mother could have seen her, she’d have had a pink fit! She’d certainly be asking her daughter some pertinent questions.

  Bianca herself was determined not to let Adam keep sidestepping her own questions.

  ‘Mind telling me what’s going on, darling?’ she asked saucily as they waited for the lift doors to open. ‘Do you make a habit of tarting up your female friends for an afternoon at the races? Or is this charade just for me, for some reason?’

  His smile was irritatingly sardonic. ‘Now don’t be tedious and start asking more useless questions. I have no intention of answering them.’

  Which was another thing that was bothering her. This increasingly enigmatic and uncooperative side of Adam’s character. She’d been so right when she’d thought him a stranger before. He was.

  ‘The least you can do is tell me where you got your suit from?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want to know! Did you rent it? Yes, I’ll bet you did. Like you rented that tux you were wearing last night. There’s a clothes rental shop in this building, isn’t there?’

  The lift doors opened and he walked in, turning to smile at her from the far corner. ‘Just get in, Bianca.’

  Pursing her lips together, she tried to stalk in with her usual long stride, only to wobble on the appallingly high heels she was wearing. ‘Watch it,’ he said, reaching out to steady her.

  She wrenched her arm away and glared her temper at him. ‘If I wasn’t wearing these tart’s shoes, I’d be fine.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to wear them. Not with the red silk, anyway,’ he adde
d drily.

  ‘I could hardly wear my old trainers. Or nothing at all!’

  ‘No, nothing at all would not have been suitable.’

  ‘Neither was that disgusting black dress I was poured into—the one you still bought.’ She rattled the large plastic shopping bag at him, which contained her old clothes plus the black bit of nothing. ‘If you think I’d ever wear that whore’s dress in public, then you have another think coming!’

  ‘I have no intention of letting you wear that particular number in public, Bianca. It’s for my eyes only.’

  She blinked widely at him as an image of her parading around in private for him in the black mini popped into her mind. She’d exaggerated when she’d called it a whore’s dress. It wasn’t that bad. A lot of girls dressed like that these days when going out at night. Short, tight and sexy was in. But she’d never felt comfortable displaying her lack of any real cleavage.

  Still, she had to admit that when Adam had looked at her in that dress, she’d been...well, she’d been very turned on. She had been quite discomfited by the fact, especially when she’d felt her breasts swell and her nipples tighten.

  In truth, she still felt turned on. She only had G-string panties on, which had been fine under jeans but made her feel half-naked and very sensuous underneath a thin silk dress. She didn’t even have any tights for security, and was very aware of her bare thighs and buttocks. On top of that, her nipples had stayed erect, poking like little pebbles against the cool red silk.

  ‘I still feel decidedly undressed,’ she complained.

  ‘Is it my fault you don’t wear a bra?’

  ‘You don’t want me wearing a bra and you know it,’ she countered sharply. ‘I’m not dumb, Adam. I finally get the picture. This is the price I have to pay for you pretending to be my husband, isn’t it? I not only have to take over Sophie’s duties in bed but everywhere else as well! I saw the way she was dressed the other night. You have this thing for tarted up women, don’t you?’

  Once again he said nothing, just leant his back against the far wall of the lift and surveyed her slowly, his eyes darkening as they moved inexorably to her nipples.

  ‘You look incredible,’ he said in a desirethickened voice.

  ‘I look cheap,’ she snapped.

  He laughed. ‘Hardly cheap. That outfit set me back a pretty penny.’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘I know what it means when dresses don’t have price-tags on them. It’s the same as restaurants which don’t have prices on the menus. It means everything’s horribly expensive. You’re not that rich, Adam, that you can afford to throw your money around like confetti. You shouldn’t be wasting your hard-earned money like this.’

  The lift doors opened and Adam levered himself away from the wall. ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head about what I spend my money on, Bianca. You’re not my real wife.

  ‘Now...’ He took her arm and began leading her forcefully across the car park ‘Let’s get moving. By the time we get to Randwick we’ll have missed the first race. But no matter—the first couple of races are never the best ones to bet on.’

  Bianca thought of standing her ground and demanding some answers, but, in truth, she suspected Adam would be as good as his word. He wasn’t going to tell her where his own expensive clothes had come from, or deny or confirm why he’d had her dolled up like some sex-pot.

  Besides, she had to admit that beneath her exasperation lay an excitement which would not be denied. It was fun to be dolled up like this, and to have her blood zinging through her veins. She felt not a little wicked herself, so when she climbed into the passenger seat and the slits in her dress parted, exposing most of her stockingless thighs, she made no attempt to cover herself. She might not have big boobs, but she had great legs!

  Adam likes to see female flesh, she thought breathlessly. Then female flesh he will see!

  When Adam glared down at her expanse of exposed thigh with disapproval on his face, Bianca was thrown completely. Wasn’t this the sort of thing that turned him on? Apparently not...if his scowl was anything to go by.

  ‘I think, darling wife,’ he muttered as he fired the engine, ‘that we’ll be standing up all afternoon.’

  Bianca could only shake her head in utter bewilderment when Adam reversed rather angrily out of the parking space. Now she had no idea what game he was playing. Or what he felt for her. Or what role he expected her to fulfil this afternoon.

  He’d become a mystery man, all right. But a rather fascinating man as well, she realised as she slid a sideways glance over at his closed but very handsome face. Her gaze drifted down to his lips, which at that moment were pressed testily together. His full bottom lip was jutting forward a little. It looked incredibly sexy. He looked incredibly sexy.

  Desire knotted her stomach and she thought, all of a sudden, of the many hours which separated her from going to bed with Adam tonight.

  Too many, she decided ruefully as she felt the blood begin to gallop around her veins. Far too many...

  By the time Bianca uncurled herself from the passenger seat of the BMW half an hour later, she had her wayward body only partially under control. Standing up, she skimmed the red silk dress back down her thighs in an unconsciously nervous movement, at the same time trying not to wobble in her five-inch heels.

  Adam watched her with another of those unnervingly sardonic smiles he’d suddenly discovered. He was no longer looking disapproving of how she looked. Just drily amused.

  Rebellion surfaced along with her ongoing frustration. He wanted a sexual exhibit on his arm? Well, he’d get one. And to hell with the consequences!

  CHAPTER NINE

  ADAM wasn’t enjoying himself as much as he’d thought he would. The next bloke who leered at Bianca was going to get a fist in his face!

  Of course, she was having the time of her life, the lying little devil. There she’d been, pretending she didn’t like the way she looked, but since she’d started being on the receiving end of ogling male eyes, she’d been lapping it all up like a cat with cream.

  She’d sashayed her way around the course, fluttering her eyelashes at every man they passed and wiggling that sexy bottom of hers, which was looking so sexy in that red dress it was downright sinful.

  On top of that, she’d already downed more glasses of champagne than he’d ever seen a female down and stay standing. No doubt she was as high as a kite, because she’d started to giggle—something Bianca never did—and to drape herself all over him—something else Bianca never, ever did, not with any man.

  By the fourth race Adam had just about had enough. He wanted to leave, but, darn it all, he was winning again, weirdly enough. A punter never left the track when he was winning, though the next race left a lot to be desired.

  ‘Oh, look, the darling horseys are coming out!’ Bianca explained, with the best bimbo vocabulary Adam had ever heard. ‘Which one are you going to put your money on, honey?’ she gushed, holding onto his arm so tightly Adam suspected it was to keep her upright, not because she was inordinately fond of him.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ he said drily. ‘The next race is a two-thousand-metre event which doesn’t have a single runner tried at the distance. I’ll just have to try pot luck with a combination on top trainer and top jockey.’

  ‘Why don’t you use that wonderful old system you foisted on us unsuspecting students during our first year at university?’ Bianca suggested with a saucy smile. ‘You know, the one where you were going to turn our miserable hundred dollars each into a fortune? It didn’t do too badly, I suppose,’ she went on, her blue eyes glittering with wicked amusement. ‘Only twenty-nine consecutive losers!’

  Adam cringed at the memory. What a fiasco! ‘Trust you to remind me. Still, I’ve learnt a thing or two about racehorse systems since then. And staking plans. You need a damn sight more than a few hundred dollars to start with if you wish to survive!’

  ‘I’ll bet I could pick you the winn
er,’ she said, with the blithe confidence of the merrily intoxicated. ‘If it’s a long race and none of them have run with distance before then the fittest will undoubtedly win. I’m an expert on fitness. Come on...’

  She dragged him over to the railing on the saddling enclosure, where the horses were still being led around in circles by their grooms.

  ‘Look at that one!’ she pointed out eagerly. ‘Talk about rippling muscles. Have you ever seen a fantastic rump like that one?’

  ‘Er...’ Adam gave Bianca’s own well-defined rump a rueful glance. ‘Not too often.’

  ‘That’s definitely the winner!’ Bianca announced, after another minute’s superficial survey. ‘There’s not another horse to touch it. I demand you put a bet on that one for me.’

  ‘All right. If you insist.’ She’d die when she saw the ticket, but it would be sweet vengeance for her amusing herself at his expense.

  Smiling, he propped a sozzled Bianca up against the railing, then went to place the bet at the tote window before hurrying back. He had a feeling he didn’t dare leave Bianca alone for long. She looked far too delicious. And she was far too tipsy.

  He’d been right. By the time he returned, less than five minutes later, some good-looking slimeball with a moustache and money written all over him was chatting her up. Bianca was looking up at him with a rapt expression, as though he were God’s personal messenger, and it took all of Adam’s control not to walk up and thump the creep right in his perfectly capped teeth.

  As it was, his voice was glacial as he joined them and said, ‘Thanks so much for looking after my wife. But I’ll take her back now.’ And, clamping an iron grip around Bianca’s upper arm, he practically dragged her off, not stopping till he found a relatively secluded corner.

  ‘Ooh, how masterful!’ Bianca said, then giggled.

  ‘You’re plastered,’ he snapped, whirling her round to face him.

  ‘You noticed!’

  ‘And you’re acting like a cheap whore.’