by Lucy Monroe
“Not because the sex was bad?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t think so. You were expecting a long-term commitment and they refused to give it to you.”
“Yes, but that was a long time ago. I’ve grown up since then.”
He locked his jaw in frustration. Yeah, right. Growing up did not mean changing a person’s basic personality makeup. Her puritan soul should be rejoicing that he wanted to wrap their intimacy in the bonds of marriage, but she was fighting him with her typical intransigence. It made no sense to him.
Even if she didn’t love him, and he could see now that had been an arrogant assumption on his part, she did care and she did want him. Marriage meant she got him for a lifetime.
And he got her.
How was that a bad thing?
“So you’re saying that you like the idea of uncommitted sex with me?”
She smiled for the first time in several minutes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I realized when I woke up that for the first time in my life, I’m free. Really free. No major commitments, no one to take care of, no goals to live up to with backbreaking work. If I want to backpack across Europe or take a job working in another state, there’s nothing to stop me. I can go anywhere, be anything I want to be.”
“Not while someone is intent on either harming or nabbing you, you can’t.”
“That situation won’t last forever, and when it’s over, I—”
“Can go anywhere, do anything. Yeah, I heard it the first time,” he interrupted, his mood going sour with the speed of light. “And what about me?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious you regretted intimacy, so maybe it’s best we don’t go there again.” At least she looked like the prospect of not making love again bothered her.
He had that much. “I don’t regret it.”
She snorted.
“I don’t.” His gut tightened with the desire to prove to her how much he didn’t regret it. “The only thing I’m sorry for is ruining our first time together by forgetting something so important.” He sighed, hoping she’d get it this time. “I screwed up and I won’t let you stand alone paying the price for my mistake.”
She jumped off the couch, her eyes snapping dark, furious fire. “I don’t know how you can begin to imagine I would want to marry a man who sees it as the only way to make up for the biggest mistake of his life.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Damn it, Claire. We don’t have a choice. It’s the only way to fix it.”
“Marriage is not a wrench to tighten a leaky pipe. It lasts a lifetime, Brett.”
“And you don’t think I’d make a good long-term risk?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It sure sounded like it, but maybe that’s not the problem. Maybe you don’t think I’d be a good father.”
For just a second, her eyes softened. “Of course you would be.”
“That’s all I’m asking for…the chance to be a father to our child in the fullest sense of the word. I can’t stand the thought of being a temporary or part-time fixture in my baby’s life.”
Her lower lip trembled, but she bit it. “You don’t even know if I’m pregnant.”
“My gut says you are.” And in this case, he did not mind listening.
“I don’t think you can trust your gut on this one.”
“Why not?”
She sighed. “You’re too far gone in guilt mode. In your mind a pregnancy is a foregone conclusion because you see yourself as having really messed up.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I admit nothing.” She looked ready to cry and he didn’t understand why. “I’m only pointing out that is how you feel.”
“Damn it, Claire—”
“Stop swearing at me. I don’t like it.”
“I apologize.”
“Fine.”
“Now, will you please start being reasonable?”
“It’s not reasonable for you to tell me we’re getting married because of the remote possibility I could be pregnant. It’s highly unlikely and if we don’t make love again, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
“We are definitely making love again.”
“Now who is being unreasonable?”
“You think it’s unreasonable to face the truth? How do you imagine I ended up forgetting the condom? I want you so much and touching you is such a huge turn-on for me that I can’t even guarantee the next time we make love that I’ll remember. The only thing I can guarantee is that there will be a next time. In my mind, that is more than a decent basis for getting married.”
“If you married all the women you had sex with, you’d have had to move to a Muslim state where polygamy was legal a long time ago.”
“I only want to marry you.”
“But you don’t want to marry me. It’s just your guilt talking. Besides, what about your promise to Elena? If you break it, you’ll feel even guiltier.”
“I never promised not to get married.”
“Then what did you promise?”
“Never to love another woman like I loved her.”
“In other words, you want to marry me, but not only do you not love me now, you have no intention of ever loving me?” She made it sound like he was offering her a skunk’s entrails.
“We have passion, friendship, mutual respect. Those are good foundations for a marriage. And you just got through telling me how you don’t believe in love ever after anymore. That aspect shouldn’t bother you.”
“You’re right, it shouldn’t.” But it sure looked like it did. “Regardless, I’m not marrying you.” She said it quietly, with a conviction he refused to bow down to.
Like hell she wasn’t marrying him. It was the best solution, even if she wasn’t pregnant. She needed him and one day soon, she’d see that. “We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t see.”
He just shook his head. “I bought stuff to make dinner, but if you would rather eat in the restaurant here, I bought you clothes to wear, too.”
“You bought me clothes?” She sounded totally disoriented by the change in topic.
Good. Keeping her stunning mind off-kilter just might help his cause.
“Uh-huh.”
“But you don’t know my size.”
“Sure I do.” He could read the tags inside her clothes as easily as she could.
She frowned. “You didn’t need to do that. I could have worn my stuff from earlier.”
“If you want to eat in, you don’t have to wear any clothes at all.” And he let her see with a look just how much the idea appealed to him.
“We can eat in the restaurant,” she slotted in so fast, the words all came out in a jumbled rush.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“I’m sure, but I don’t see why I can’t wear my own clothes.”
“I bought you a dress.” And he’d had a lot of fun doing it.
“Dresses aren’t really my thing.”
“I wouldn’t say that. You looked amazing at Josie and Nitro’s wedding.” The woman had killer legs.
“She paid people to do my hair and makeup.”
“It isn’t images of your hair that have me waking up hot and sweaty with a boner hard enough to drill through iron ore.”
“You wake thinking about me? Excited…that way?”
“How can you be surprised after the way we spent the afternoon?”
“Wanting me when I’m around you makes sense, but you’re implying you think of me when you’re at home and stuff.”
“And stuff is right. When I’m traveling. When I’m on assignments. I think about you a lot, sweetheart.”
“You think about me…that way…at work?”
Hotwire rolled his eyes. Was she serious? “Are you saying you didn’t think about me?”
“No.”
He loved her honesty. He’d never known an
yone who had that little artifice. She said what she meant. She never played emotional or mind games. Her integrity was part and parcel of who she was and who she saw herself to be.
He got up and grabbed her arm and started tugging her toward the bedroom, where he’d dropped the bags with the clothes he’d bought. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”
“I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself.”
“No doubt.” He grinned and winked. “But I’ll enjoy helping.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You’re that set on eating dinner in the restaurant?”
She pulled away and looked at him with an expression he didn’t like. “It’s not just that. If you try to help me dress, it could lead to other things and I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”
He stalked her toward the bed and she backed up, her eyes widening. He cupped her cheeks and stopped her retreat. Did she really not understand how impossible it would be to go back to a platonic friendship?
“We’ve got a saying back home, sugar. There ain’t no use shutting the barn door after the cow done got out already.”
“We aren’t on a dairy farm here.”
“I didn’t mean to say we were, but we’ve made the sexiest kind of love. Going back to a platonic friendship would be like trying to play pro football without touching your opponent. It’s a contact sport, sugar, and so is our relationship.”
“I’ve got an even better saying for you…only a complete fool compounds a mistake by making it again.”
“Making love wasn’t the mistake and you can bet your bottom dollar it’s going to happen over and over again.”
She opened her mouth to deny him and he didn’t want to hear it. So, he kissed her.
For some reason, she’d gotten it into her head that him wanting to marry her made sex between them a bad thing. It didn’t make any kind of sense to him, but one thing he’d learned growing up around the females in his family…the way a woman’s mind worked was not something a mere man could ever hope to understand.
She didn’t respond immediately to his lips, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was by giving up on a battle before the first real skirmish. He gently increased the pressure, encouraging her to kiss him back. She held out longer than he would have, but after a lot of tender coaxing on his part, a small sigh escaped her.
Relaxing against him, she finally responded with the sweet passion that he had become addicted to. He kissed her until he was in danger of laying her back on the bed for another bout of lovemaking. While he would have liked nothing better, he had promised to take her to the restaurant for dinner.
He broke their lips apart and stepped back. “Maybe you’re right about one thing, anyway…if I help you dress, we’ll never make it out of here.”
She nodded, her breathing every bit as ragged as his. “Where’s the dress you bought me?”
“It’s not actually a dress, but a skirt and sweater, and you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I just thought you might like fresh clothes for dinner is all.”
“If you want me to wear it, I don’t mind,” she said, surprising him. “It can’t be worse than what I wore for Josette’s wedding, but I’m not sure my shoes are going to look all that great with a skirt.”
“I got sandals to go with it.” He showed her a second bag that held a single shoebox.
“They’re not high heels, are they?” she asked, suspiciously eyeing the bag dangling from his left hand.
“No.”
“Okay, then. Um…thank you.” Her expression chagrined, she took both bags from his outstretched hand and disappeared into the bathroom.
The sleeveless white, clingy sweater top and pleated skirt in a black, pink, and white swirl pattern had looked cute on the mannequin, and he’d known it would look killer on Claire. He hadn’t been able to resist buying it, even though he wasn’t sure she would willingly wear a skirt.
He smiled at the thought of her doing so to please him. That had to mean something.
When she came out fifteen minutes later, he was very glad he’d given in to the urge. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from her. “You look beautiful.”
She shook her head, a frown wrinkling her brow. “I look like a girlie wannabe.”
“You are a sexy, beautiful woman. You are not a wannabe anything. Feminine is definitely your style.”
She looked down at herself as if she couldn’t quite believe what she saw. “I would never have bought this outfit for myself, but I like the sandals.”
“The salesclerk assured me you could play basketball in them.” He’d been told they were every bit as comfortable as they were pretty.
“I’ll have to give it a try sometime,” she said tongue in cheek, and he grinned in response.
“I’m glad you approve of the shoes, but as far as the outfit goes—from the sparsity of your closet at Josie’s house, I’d say you don’t make a habit of buying anything clothes-wise for yourself.”
She shrugged. “I have enough to keep me from going naked and that’s all that matters. I’d rather put money toward my computer equipment. You should understand that.”
“Sure I do.” But when they got married, he’d make certain she had enough money for both. He liked seeing her in girlie stuff, as she put it. “But my sister would take a second job if it meant the difference between having enough money to shop for clothes or not.”
Claire gave him a blank look and then shrugged. “To each her own, I guess.”
“You’d best be prepared. She and Mama are going to have a heyday taking you shopping when we are in Georgia. Daddy bought stock in a recent mall development, saying it was because he wanted to get some of that money back.”
“I don’t remember saying I was going to Georgia with you.”
“You will. Your causes are too important to you for you to dismiss a chance of doing them some good with my money.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, stretching the white fabric of her top over her generous curves. “You’re playing dirty.”
“I’m not playing at all. I want you in Georgia with me.”
“And you think bribing me is the way to get me there?”
“The way that’ll leave you least angry at me, yes.”
“You wouldn’t really kidnap me.”
She didn’t know him very well if she believed that. He’d left his southern gentleman manners behind over a decade before. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
She sighed, as if giving up. “All right.”
The relief he felt was all out of proportion. “You agree? You’re coming to Georgia? No more arguments?”
“Not about that, but I’m not sure about shopping with your mother and your sister. I imagine paying you back for these clothes is going to make a big enough dent in my bank balance.”
He frowned at that. “They’re a gift.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He put his hand over her mouth. “No more arguing. Please.”
He loved sparring with her, but he knew where an altercation between them would lead right now, even if she didn’t. And it wasn’t the restaurant.
“I called for dinner reservations while you were in the bathroom. We’ve got to get going if we want to be on time.”
Claire tried to breathe normally as Brett guided her behind the hostess with a hand on her waist. First, he had kissed her stupid back in the suite, and then he’d been giving her looks hot enough to scorch her since she came out of the bathroom wearing the girlie clothes he’d bought.
Their argument had done nothing to diminish the sexual tension between them. And he’d kept some part of him in contact with some part of her since leaving the suite.
They’d only had to travel one floor in the elevator, but he’d made the short time a long lesson in seduction. He’d held her nape and caressed her with his thumb in a way that sent tingles all over her body.
Between his touching and sex-laden
looks, she felt like a cat dancing on hot bricks. He was probably right that making love again was inevitable. She wasn’t ready to concede that point just yet, though. And his idea that they should get married was totally out of the question.
He might be offering her a future she’d just started dreaming about, but he was doing it for all the wrong reasons. A man should ask a woman to marry him out of desire, not guilt.
He was too hard on himself. It was as if the concept that he was as fallible as the next man was anathema to him. He expected perfection from himself. And the one woman he’d been engaged to had been as close to perfect as they came, from what Claire could tell. Besides which, Brett had loved Elena.
That shouldn’t bother Claire, but it did…especially in the face of his assertion he would never love her.
She couldn’t live up to the other woman’s standard, or even come close. She would not have given up the possibility of a lifetime of Brett’s love for a long shot cause that had already been compromised.
Claire wasn’t that self-sacrificing, but Elena had been and Brett was. She wouldn’t let him sacrifice his future for her. Eventually, he would end up resenting her, especially if she became a bone of contention between him and his family.
And no doubt his overachieving, old-southern family would pee kittens if he tried to make the daughter of a suicide victim and a verified drunk one of them.
She was not going to let that happen…not any of it.
Chapter 16
T he hostess stopped at a table that overlooked the ocean. “Will this do?”
“It’s perfect,” Claire breathed, loving the view and approving the fact that the table was not off in a secluded corner somewhere.
She needed all the help she could get in fighting her cravings for Brett. Being in the full view of the rest of the restaurant should help.
A half an hour later, she was questioning her easy confidence. Brett managed to make even the simplest gesture sexy. Not only had he made buttering bread look like it should be an indoor sport for adults only, but by the time he ate three bites of the appetizer, her gaze was glued to his lips.
Memories coursed through her of how those lips felt against her skin.