The Seduction of His Wife

by Janet Chapman

  “You can’t do that! We have a deal.” Didn’t they? Dammit, hadn’t they agreed they’d get a divorce after the first of the year? “You asked me to pretend the marriage was real until enough time had passed so Judge Rogers and Grady wouldn’t get in trouble.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t recall what I said exactly,” he said. “If I did make that deal, then I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Why—” Sarah snapped her mouth shut, yearning to wipe that maddening grin off his face with the palm of her hand.

  “You can always file the divorce papers,” he told her, his calm voice only making her angrier. “If I do it, every man north of Boston will think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “That’s it?” she barely got out in a choked whisper. “You want to stay married to save face?”

  “There’s also the traffic on our roads to consider,” he continued. “If you were to suddenly become available, there’d be more local pickups heading to your camps than tourists.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of all the absurd—”

  “And then there’s the matter of the divorce settlement,” he continued, rubbing his chin. “What do you suppose you’d be entitled to? Maybe the deed to the sporting camps?”

  “I don’t want anything in the divorce,” she said, her anger turning to desperation. “I just want my life back.”

  He locked his gaze on hers. “Which life would that be, Sarah?” he softly asked. “The one where you live all alone in that big old sporting lodge, taking care of everyone but yourself?” He took hold of her shoulders. “Or a husband and family of your own? It’s a lot safer to read about happily-ever-after than it is to go after it, isn’t it, Sarah?”

  “I found the books you stuffed in the couch,” she told him. “You think just because you’ve read a few romance novels, you’ve got me all figured out?”

  He smiled.

  “They’re fiction, Alex. Make-believe people in a fictional world. And they don’t have anything to do with our predicament. Neither one of us wants to be married to the other.”

  “Speak for yourself, Sunshine.” He leaned down and settled his mouth over hers.

  Holy smokes, he was doing it to her again! Knocking her off-balance by turning her mind to mush. Every salacious dream she’d had in the past month reared its tempting head, and Sarah found herself right back in the middle of them as his lips moved over hers, sweet apple crisp and the smell of pine pitch assaulting her senses. Her insides clenched, and her lips parted of their own volition, her hands gripping his jacket to pull him closer instead of pushing him away.

  Run for your life! her mind screamed, but Sarah heard it as only a whisper drowned out by the roar of blood coursing through her veins. Her heart violently pounded against her ribs, or was that Alex’s heart beating so strongly against hers?

  His tongue moved inside her mouth, his hand sliding down her back and pulling her tightly against him. She was so lost in a sea of sensations that she moved her hips against him—and felt herself caught in a tempest of chaos that brought her crashing to shore.

  No. No, that was definitely something more solid than a hand on her backside, and some tiny, still working part of her brain told Sarah she was sitting on the fender of her SUV, her legs wrapped around Alex and her tongue shoved halfway down his throat.

  She needed to think of something else—anything but the feel of Alex Knight’s body clinging to hers. No, she was clinging to him!

  The man weaving fantasies through her runaway imagination finally lifted his mouth, and Sarah dropped her head to his chest, sucking in gulps of frozen air. With each breath, Sarah finally regained her control, until she was able to rear back and shove him away.

  She slid down the fender, surprised that her legs worked well enough to keep her from slithering to the ground, and started toward the house. But she hadn’t taken three steps before he caught her and stopped her.

  “I’ll let you run this time, Sunshine,” he whispered against her hair. “As long as you understand it’s not me you’re running from, but yourself.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  S arah sat motionless behind the wheel of her SUV, little clouds of condensation filling the cab as she stared out the windshield at the imprint of her backside on the right front fender. Understand it’s not me you’re running from, but yourself, Alex had told her last night, his words echoing long after she’d run to her bedroom.

  She hadn’t even bothered to clear the table from their meeting, she’d been so flustered. And after a restless night’s sleep with Alex’s warning repeatedly whispering through her dreams, she’d gotten up early and cleaned the kitchen before making breakfast.

  Sarah had thought breakfast would never end. The kids didn’t want to go back to school, the two younger Knight brothers were still trying to come to terms with being mill owners, and Alex had been so silently there that every nerve in Sarah’s body had hummed in awareness. Even Grady had been subdued, his mind on the few parts they still hadn’t been able to get for their vandalized machinery.

  And then there was the trail Sarah had found the day they’d been out shooting grades. Grady had mentioned this morning, before the kids had gotten up, that he’d told both John Tate and Daniel Reed about the trail. John had promised to tell the border patrol, and Daniel had promised to see where it led. And then there was the map that was still missing.

  By the time the house had emptied of Knights, Sarah’s nerves were so frayed she’d run to her bathroom and actually thrown up. Deciding she needed to stay busy to calm down, she had gone out to the hot tub and changed the ozone bulb that had finally arrived in the mail two days ago. But the frustration of trying to get that stupid bulb properly seated in its stupid little box had only made her more angry.

  Sarah rubbed her eyes with her fists and glared through the windshield at the fender again, the imprint of her backside blatant evidence of her foolish behavior last night. It’s not me you’re running from, but yourself. Then don’t get a divorce, he had said with such deadly calm.

  What in hell was Alex up to?

  Why did he seem so determined to seduce her?

  But maybe more important, why did the mere thought of making love to Alex cause Sarah to break into a cold sweat one minute and be hot and bothered the next? Could he be right? Was she really afraid? Of him? No, he didn’t scare her. She felt drawn to him the way a moth was drawn to a flame. So did that mean she was running from herself?

  It’s easier to read about happily-ever-after than it is to go after it yourself, isn’t it? For a man with an engineering degree, Alex sure had been busy analyzing her—or, rather, trying to explain why she wouldn’t let him sweep her off her feet. It couldn’t have anything to do with him, he had apparently decided, so she must be the one with the hangup.

  “Let it go,” Sarah told herself, her angry puff of heated air turning to frost on the windshield. She reached down and finally twisted the key in the ignition, starting the SUV. “I am being a perfectly sensible woman,” she muttered, looking for the defrost button and jabbing it on. “I don’t have a hangup about sex. I just want to make love to a man for all the right reasons. And just because Alex Knight is good-looking and has been nothing but sweet to me since he brought me back doesn’t mean I’m falling in love with him.”

  Sarah snorted. Sweet? Heck, the guy had been acting as if he were God’s answer to her prayers. And it was driving him crazy that she wasn’t tripping all over herself to jump back into his bed so she could feel his strong arms around her, the weight of his heated body covering hers, the…the…dammit, he was the crazy one, not her! She was not falling in love with Alex Knight! He was only attracted to her beauty, not her heart and soul and mind. He was just like all the other men.

  Wasn’t he?

  Did it matter that the card accompanying the roses he’d given her had said they were for the sweetest girl this side of Canada, not the prettiest? And he had giv
en her this truck so she could be independent; he had to have been thinking about her feelings then. And it sure did seem as if he wanted them to stay married. Why else would he have given her a wedding band just a few weeks before they were supposed to get their divorce?

  “Let it go,” she told herself again. “The man is just determined to drive me crazy!”

  Sarah pressed down heavily on the gas pedal at that thought, but the tachometer needle only rose to 3000 rpm. She scowled at the dial and pressed harder, but the needle wouldn’t go one rpm higher.

  She had realized the truck wasn’t new and could see it already had sixty thousand miles on it. But the tachometer went up to 6000 though, so why wouldn’t the needle go above 3000?

  Alex had bought a lemon. Sarah wiped the frost off the inside of the windshield with a laugh. “You got rooked, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Somebody sold you a sick truck.”

  Not that she cared at the moment. The truck still worked, and 3000 rpm was enough to make it go. Sarah stepped on the brake, pulled the gear lever down to one, let off the brake, and slowly stepped on the gas, then turned the wheel and guided the truck onto the lane leading to the main artery.

  She was driving! All by herself!

  Sarah decided that she was clearly not the problem; the Knights were. They made her nervous. She was doing a much better job driving on her own than when someone was sitting beside her, telling her what to do and when to do it.

  She was free! She could go to her camps and even into town once she got the hang of it. Heck, she could drive all the way to Greenville if she chose. Sarah gave another laugh and decided that even though Alex made her crazy one minute and mushy the next, she had to give him points for giving her independence.

  Sarah drove down the lane, her speed increasing with her confidence. All she had to do was keep the truck between the snowbanks, and she’d be at her camps in no time. She came to a skidding halt at the main artery, looked both ways for traffic, then turned to the left and stepped on the gas. Since she might meet loaded logging trucks on their way to the mill, she kept her truck to the side of the road, at the same time trying to keep the right tires out of the snowbank.

  And she was doing a pretty good job of it, until she rounded a corner and saw a green pickup speeding toward her. Sarah slammed on the brakes, turning the wheel to the right to get out of the way. Only her truck didn’t stop; it spun around—and around and around and around.

  Everything came to a sudden halt when her truck slammed into the oncoming pickup. Sarah was thrown against her seat belt, her right hand struck the dashboard, and her right knee also connected with something solid.

  Then there was silence, except for the sound of her loudly rapping engine. Sarah blinked, looked out through the windshield, and saw Game Warden Daniel Reed looking back at her from behind his own windshield. Their two trucks were smashed together nose-to-nose, as if they were kissing. Though it wasn’t at all funny, Sarah started laughing hysterically, burying her face in her hands with a wail.

  Daniel jumped out of his truck and scrambled over to the SUV. The woman inside had her face buried in her hands, and he hoped she wasn’t seriously injured; they were at least ten miles from Oak Grove and forty miles from the nearest hospital. He pulled open her door.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching in and shutting off the truck, then bending down to check on her. He sucked in his breath when wide, shocked eyes met his and he found himself face-to-face with Mrs. Alex Knight. “Are you okay?” he repeated.

  She nodded and tried to get out, but her seat belt stopped her. Daniel closed his eyes in thanks that she was wearing it. They had hit each other with a jolt, but he didn’t think she was seriously hurt. He reached around her and undid her belt, then carefully helped her out.

  She nearly fell once her feet touched the ground, and Daniel caught her as he realized she couldn’t put any weight on her right leg. He set her back in her truck, facing him, and hunched down. “Mrs. Knight…Sarah, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  “My knee got banged, and my right hand hit the dash, and it hurts something fierce,” she whispered.

  Daniel took her hand in his and found it was already starting to swell, two of the fingers looking particularly bad. He smiled at her. “I hope these weren’t your whistling fingers,” he said with false cheer. “Stay here, and I’ll call for help. I have a radio in my truck, and I’ll have the sheriff out here in no time. We’ll take you to Greenville, to the hospital.”

  “The hospital?” she repeated, and she shook her head. “I just want to go home.”

  “Sarah,” Daniel said, frowning at her. “Those fingers look broken, and your knee is hurt. You need to have a doctor check you over.”

  She continued to shake her head, looked at their smashed trucks, and gave a shuddering sniffle.

  Daniel cringed. She’d better not start crying; he was worthless when it came to crying women.

  “I just got this truck.” She sniffled. “And now I’ve smashed it up. Alex gave it to me for Christmas.”

  “Now, Sarah, Alex will only care that you’re all right.” He gave her a smile in hopes of heading off her tears. “It’s just a dented fender and a busted radiator. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  She sniffled again.

  Not knowing what else to do, Daniel walked to his truck and called John Tate, who arrived twenty minutes later, much to Daniel’s relief. Sheriffs were trained to deal with distraught women; game wardens dealt better with pissed-off poachers.

  “I need to warn you, John,” Daniel said before they approached Sarah’s truck. “Near tears or not, you are about to have your day made.”

  Eyeing Daniel suspiciously, John hunched down in front of Sarah, then looked back at Daniel and smiled. “We’ve met,” he told Daniel before turning back to Sarah.

  “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?” John asked her softly.

  “I banged my hand and knee. But I’m okay,” she rushed to say. “I just want to go home.”

  John took her cradled hand and examined it. “You need to see a doctor.”

  “I wrecked my new truck.”

  John patted her uninjured knee. “Alex will only care that you’re okay,” he promised. “Is your driver’s license in your purse? I’ll need it for my report. Daniel and I will take you to Greenville, and we’ll stay with you until Alex arrives. I’ll do my paperwork on the accident there.”

  Sarah blinked at John. “My driver’s license?”

  “You do have a license, don’t you?” John asked.

  She shook her head.

  Daniel laughed softly, then helped John get Sarah into the passenger’s side of the cruiser before they moved the wrecked trucks off the road.

  “She doesn’t even have a license,” John said, shaking his head.

  Daniel looked across the top of the car. “She didn’t have a fishing license, either.”

  Both men broke into grins, then climbed into the cruiser and headed for Greenville, their beautiful passenger softly sniffling behind them.

  “Where is she?”

  John and Daniel stood up from the waiting-room chairs and hurried over. “She’s fine, Alex,” John assured him, holding out his hand in greeting.

  “Where is she?” Alex repeated.

  “Alex,” Dr. Caleb Betters said as he walked into the waiting room. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “Where is she?” Alex growled.

  “Sarah’s okay,” Caleb assured him. “She’s in Room Two. But I want to talk with you before you see her.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t worry, I just have a few things to discuss, that’s all. How are the knuckles?” Caleb asked.

  Alex shrugged and started for the room that held Sarah. He was stopped by a restraining hand on his arm. “My office first,” Caleb said.

  “After I’ve seen her.”

  “No,” Caleb said, tightening his grip.

  Alex looked ag
ain at the door where Sarah was, then followed Betters down the hall.

  “I want to talk to you before you leave,” John called after them. Alex raised his hand in acknowledgment, then slipped into the doctor’s office.

  “Take a seat,” Caleb told him.

  Alex remained standing. “How bad is she hurt?”

  The aging doctor stared at Alex, staying silent until Alex sat down in the chair. Caleb sat on the edge of his desk. “She’s got two broken fingers, and her right knee is swollen and sore but not seriously damaged.” He held up his hand when Alex started to rise. “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about. When you see her, you may be shocked that both of her eyes are bandaged.”

  Alex stood up.

  “This, too, is not serious,” Caleb assured him. “She’s got welder’s flash.”

  “Welder’s flash!”

  Caleb nodded. “It took some doing, but I finally figured it out. As you know, welder’s flash means you’ve sunburned the eyeballs. But looking at a welding arc isn’t the only way it happens. Any exposure to strong ultraviolet light can do it. Your wife,” he informed Alex, “changed the ozone bulb on your hot tub this morning. Since it takes a few hours to feel the effects, it wasn’t until she was here that she complained she couldn’t see well and that the lights were bothering her.”

  Alex started pacing. “Welder’s flash hurts like hell,” he said, knowing from personal experience. “Is she in a lot of pain?”

  “She wouldn’t be if she’d quit crying. She keeps soaking the bandages I put on and washing out the salve with her tears,” the obviously frustrated doctor told him.

  Alex headed for the door.

  “Wait,” Caleb said, grabbing his arm. “There’s more.”

  “More?”

  “You need to know that Sarah’s five weeks pregnant.”

  Every drop of blood in Alex’s body pooled in his feet, and he groped for the chair, slowly sat down, and silently dropped his head into his hands.

  Caleb touched his shoulder. “Sarah didn’t realize it, either. I don’t want you going in there and riling her up,” he warned. “Pregnant women are at the mercy of their hormones, and that’s probably why she can’t seem to stop crying, now that she’s started. But I need to put more salve in her eyes, and I want the bandages to stay dry this time. So promise her the moon if you have to—just make her stop.”