“Sure thing,” he told her.
Mirabella turned her back to him and waited, unconsciously holding her breath. When she felt Zane slide the zipper slowly down from her neck, she could feel her pulse beginning to quicken—just the way it had when he had taken her into his arms in the chapel.
Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to her that Zane was moving the zipper down almost in slow motion and with every fraction of a second that passed by, she could feel herself growing more aroused. Could feel herself struggling not to turn around and discover whether a second kiss held the same thrill for her as the first one had.
Get a grip, Mirabella. Don’t get needy. And for heaven’s sake, don’t mess up.
Taking a breath, Mirabella forced herself to continue to face the wall as she said, “Thank you. I can take it from here.”
Was it her imagination, or had her voice quavered just then?
“I’ll be in the car,” Zane murmured, walking out of the room.
He doubted Mirabella would ever know just how much self-control he was exercising right at this moment by walking away. Because it took all that control not to turn her around and draw her back into his arms while he slid the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
It hit him with the speed and force of a lightning bolt.
He realized he really wanted to make love with her. Make love with the woman that Clark County had legally made his wife.
The irony of it did not fail to register.
He walked hurriedly out of the house without turning around.
Mirabella quickly stepped out of her wedding dress. Then, before putting her suit back on, she paused to pick up the dress and fold it. She spared herself a moment longer just to run her fingertips lovingly over the material.
Married. I’m married. I’m Mrs. Zane Colton. Who would have ever thought...?
She spared herself one more moment, then quickly put on her skirt and jacket. She didn’t want to keep Zane waiting. Certainly not after he had put himself out like this for her.
* * *
Rather than wait in the car the way he had told her he would, Zane waited right outside the cottage door. He snapped to attention the second he saw her come out.
“We’d better get going,” Zane said, taking Mirabella’s arm as he walked her over to where he’d parked the rented vehicle.
Feeling as if her feet weren’t touching the ground, Mirabella fell into step beside the man who was, for all intents and purposes, her brand-new husband.
He made the offer one final time in case she had changed her mind. “You know, if you want, we can stay in Vegas for the night. I’m sure for the right price—” which by his tone of voice he indicated he was more than willing to offer—money had long since ceased being a problem for his family “—a honeymoon suite could become available.” Zane waited for her response.
Mirabella pressed her lips together. She could still taste him. With any luck, that wouldn’t fade for a couple of hours, she hoped, a shiver hopscotching along her spine.
Don’t get carried away. So he kissed you. There was an audience watching, remember? What did you expect him to do when the reverend said to kiss the bride, punt you over the goal post? Of course he kissed you, but it didn’t mean anything to him. Remember that.
“No, we’d better just fly back. You have all those meetings scheduled in the morning,” she reminded him, the words tasting like tree bark in her mouth. “It’s best to prepare for them today.”
Zane laughed softly, shaking his head. Any other woman would have jumped to take him up on his suggestion without a single thought to anything else. “Always watching out for me, aren’t you, Belle?”
“That’s what you pay me to do, isn’t it?” she asked him.
“It is, indeed,” Zane agreed, but he didn’t really sound very happy as he said it.
She wondered if she’d offended him somehow, or if he was suddenly having second thoughts.
She couldn’t really blame him if he was, she thought as she fell silent.
* * *
“I can have someone sent over to your place to pack up your things in the morning,” Zane casually mentioned once they were on the jet again.
When Mirabella looked at him quizzically, he realized she’d probably forgotten their earlier conversation regarding logistics after the wedding.
“Remember, I said we were going to have to live together for appearances’ sake and my house is probably quite a bit bigger than yours.”
So she had heard, Mirabella thought. “You don’t have to send anyone. I can pack up my things. There isn’t all that much to pack, really,” she confessed.
He shook his head. “Turning down help with menial work. You have got to be the most unassuming woman I’ve ever met, Belle.”
She offered him a half smile.
He looked beneath the surface. She was upset, he suspected. Why? He thought this was what she wanted. Obviously, he’d overlooked something.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“I just hate the idea of giving up my apartment. It’s in a really nice location. I doubt I’ll be able to find something like it once this is finally over.” She flushed as the words replayed themselves in her head. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right—”
He waved her apology aside. He had no need to hear any apologies. “If that’s all that’s bothering you, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of the lease,” he promised. “You can still go over to your apartment whenever you want.
“Leave your furniture there, too,” he recommended. “God knows we’ve got enough of that at the house. Just bring whatever you don’t want to leave behind. Clothes, mementos, things like that,” he told her. “The rest can stay in your apartment.”
“You don’t mind me keeping my apartment?” she asked, surprised.
“I said I’d pay for it, didn’t I? So why should I mind?” He didn’t understand her reasoning. “Even if this was actually a marriage, I don’t have the right to change you any more than you would have the right to change me. When two people enter a marriage these days, it’s not as a master and his servant, but as two equals.”
The plane encountered a little turbulence. He saw her digging her nails into the armrests. “I just thought since you were doing this favor for me,” she explained, “that well, I owed you.”
“Maybe I’ll ask you for your firstborn when this is over.” The horrified look that passed over her face made him realize she thought he might be serious. “I’m just kidding,” he assured her, running his hand along her arm to comfort her.
“I knew that,” she murmured.
She looked down at the wedding ring on her finger. The diamonds along the band were gleaming brightly enough to blind someone. “What do you want me to do with this?”
He pretended to regard her question for a moment. “Right off the top of my head, I’d say wear it.”
She regarded it uneasily. “But the ring’s real, right?”
“It is.” Zane nodded, adding, “Unless the jeweler lied to me.”
She felt a tremendous responsibility just wearing the ring. “Don’t you want to put this into a safe or something?”
He didn’t quite see it that way. “There’s no point in having something beautiful if you can’t show it off,” he told her.
For one very heady moment, Mirabella had the impression he wasn’t really talking about the ring on her finger, but about her.
Chapter 15
“I have to admit,” Zane said, breaking the prolonged silence in his sedan later that evening as he drove into Mirabella’s garden apartment complex, “when I thought about finally getting married, this was not exactly the way I envisioned my wedding night going—dropping off my wife at her apartment and then driving home.” He spared her a glance. She’d been almost stoically quiet during the short trip from the office. “I imagine it’s the same for you.”
There was kindness in his voice rather than the usu
al professional distance she had come to expect because of their work relationship. But then, none of this was exactly in the parameters of a professional relationship, now was it? Mirabella thought.
Quite honestly, she really didn’t know what it was, what any of what had happened today was—other than really, really confusing.
“No, I guess not,” she finally responded in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
Mirabella was experiencing ambivalent feelings about every aspect of today. At times, such as now, ambivalence was trumped by guilt. She knew she was in Zane’s debt and it wasn’t a place she wanted to be because she had no way of repaying him, nothing to trade in return for what Zane was doing for her.
“And you didn’t have to go through the trouble of bringing me home,” she told him as he headed for one of the complex’s guest parking strips. “I mean, you have things to do...”
“Sure I did,” he contradicted her. “I picked you up this morning, remember? That meant you had no way of getting back to your apartment. Someone had to drive you here and who better than your husband?” he asked her with a hint of a smile.
A smile Mirabella couldn’t quite read.
“Husband in name only,” she reminded Zane, trying to make him understand, despite the supposed new roles they’d assumed, she expected nothing from him—not even a ride home. That he’d already done far more than she’d ever thought possible.
Zane inclined his head in tacit agreement. “But nonetheless, your husband. This isn’t putting me out, Belle,” he assured her, “if that’s what you’re thinking. I like driving.”
Because she didn’t know what else to do, Mirabella nodded as he brought the car to a stop in one of the available guest parking spaces. This unexpected turn in her life was so new, she had no idea what to say or how to feel, other than grateful, which she was.
But she was also very confused about her feelings, not the least of which was this immensely strong attraction she was doing her damnedest to block. Looking back, she would have had to admit she’d always been attracted to him. But after that kiss at the altar, everything had gotten shaken up as far as she was concerned. All she could do was think about Zane. Think about the man in ways that had absolutely nothing even remotely to do with work.
She had the night to get all of it under control, Mirabella told herself. She intended to do just that.
Opening the door on her side, she was about to get out, but Zane proved to be much faster than she was. He had rounded the trunk and was there on her side of the car to help her out by the time she set one foot on the paved ground.
Taking her hand, he brought her out of the sedan. “Are you sure I can’t take you out to dinner?” he offered again.
The truth was, he was feeling oddly guilty about this whole setup. To his way of thinking, she’d been shortchanged all around, a victim of mindless gossip as well as some man’s disrespect which had left her alone and pregnant. He still just couldn’t understand how a person could have walked away from someone who looked like Mirabella, moreover, someone who had all of her resolute, kind qualities.
“It doesn’t seem right, just getting married, then bringing you back to the office and now leaving you on your doorstep without doing something by way of acknowledging and celebrating the occasion,” Zane insisted.
“You have done a great deal,” Mirabella countered.
Then, as she took her key out of her purse, she paused. He was right, this did feel strange, just parting abruptly like this. The man had flown her out to Vegas, bought her a wedding dress and then married her. Maybe Zane wanted to talk, she thought.
Looking at him over her shoulder, she asked, “Would you like to come in for some coffee?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to politely turn her down. He didn’t want her to feel that she had to ask him in. A lot had happened today and there was a lot to process—for both of them. But he didn’t want to just abandon her if she was asking him in. And, he supposed he should try to act sociable. After all, they were going to be in a social situation the second news of this so-called marriage became public knowledge. He needed to be able to behave comfortably in her company, otherwise, questions would crop up—undoubtedly starting with his own family, Zane realized.
“Sure,” he acquiesced. “Why not?”
Crossing the threshold, Mirabella immediately turned on the light. The second the light illuminated her apartment, she was struck by how very surreal all of this really was. This morning, when she’d left her apartment, she’d been a single woman. A pregnant single woman, but a single woman nonetheless. She’d returned to her apartment a married one.
Granted the marriage was, for all intents and purposes, in name only, but as far as everyone outside of just the two of them was concerned, she was a married woman.
As far back as she could remember, she had never felt as unsure of herself as she did right at this very moment. Turning to close the door, her purse slipped from her fingers. Zane moved to retrieve the purse at the same time as she did and they wound up bumping heads.
Regaining her balance, Mirabella rubbed the top of her head. “Sorry,” she quickly apologized.
Zane handed the purse to her. “For dropping your purse or bumping my head?”
She deposited her purse on the kitchen counter several steps away from the front door. “Both.”
“Well, stop it,” he told her. When she looked at him uncertainly, he tried to make her see what he meant. “You’ve got to police yourself and stop apologizing for everything. Everything is not your fault, Belle. And even if it was, you’re a Colton now.” He pointed out the obvious—and something that had been drummed into his own head by his mother. “Coltons don’t apologize.”
“You do,” Mirabella recalled. “I’ve heard you apologize.”
Maybe he had, once or twice, but definitely not with the frequency she seemed to. “Not constantly,” he emphasized.
She lowered her head, doing her best to suppress a sigh. Zane was right. As usual.
“Point taken.”
Surprising her, Zane placed his hands on her shoulders, momentarily holding her in place. Then, with one hand still on her shoulder, he raised her chin with his other hand, bringing her eyes level with his.
“Not yet, I don’t think,” he appraised, searching her eyes. “But work on it.”
“Yes, sir—um, Mr. Col—Zane,” Mirabella finally said after two self-corrections.
“Zane. It’s Zane,” he reminded her. His eyes crinkled then. “Not exactly an auspicious start for a married couple, is it?” he asked with a laugh.
A self-deprecating smile played on her lips. “No, it’s not,” she agreed.
“Say that with conviction,” he coached.
“No, it’s not,” Mirabella repeated, deepening her voice to give the words some weight.
“Still not there,” he told her. “Say it like I’m a cat burglar breaking in to your apartment and the only way you’re going to get me to jump back out the window is to say that first word with enough force to literally push me back.”
This time, tired of coming up lacking, Mirabella shouted the word into his face. “No!”
Success, Zane thought with a touch of triumph. “Atta girl!” he laughed, pulling her into his arms to give her a hug. He’d begun to think maybe she wasn’t nearly as feisty as he’d initially thought she was.
Zane quickly discovered the problem with a spontaneous hug was that in order for the hug to be genuine and effective, it had to bring two people into exceedingly close proximity. Putting them practically into each other’s breast pockets.
Moreover, he found that closeness brought with it a whole myriad of other feelings, some of which were supposed to be kept tightly under wraps.
Hugging negated that unspoken arrangement.
The scent of her perfume, something Zane now realized he’d been aware of on a subconscious level for quite a while, seemed to seductively fill his head. It almost perversely stirred things w
ithin him that were better off left undisturbed.
Awareness of the danger came too late.
The sciences had never held any allure for him in school, but even he knew it had been scientifically proven that once rung, bells could not be unrung. And so it was that dormant emotions, once stirred, could not be effectively unstirred.
And definitely not immediately.
The laughter that had been on his lips faded as other, more urgent reactions rose to the surface, reminding him that because of this matter with his stepfather and so many other pressing things that had gotten in the way, he hadn’t had the time to just step back and feel. Hadn’t taken the time to just step back and be a regular, flesh-and-blood man who had simple, ordinary needs.
And this woman who was currently in his arms, who because of extenuating circumstances he had made his wife, both ignited those needs and could help to quell and satiate those very same needs.
Before he could think it through, and certainly before he could stop himself, Zane lowered his mouth to hers and kissed Mirabella.
Kissed her because the first time had been so good.
Kissed her because he wanted to revisit that first time and continue on from there.
* * *
In her heart, Mirabella had to admit she knew the moment she’d suggested Zane come in, it would lead to this. But what astonished her was her customary hesitation, her uncertainty, her reticence, none of it was present as she found herself on the receiving end of Zane’s passionate kiss.
She wanted this.
A second before his lips touched hers, she found herself anxiously waiting for this. If he hadn’t kissed her, she would have very possibly taken matters into her own hands and kissed him.
Yes, she had kept reinforcing the fact that all this was in name only, but it was really to reassure him, not herself. She didn’t want Zane thinking because he’d extended a kindness to her by giving her baby an established last name and hopefully silencing whoever was out there sending those vicious emails, that she wanted something more from him. That she expected something more from him. That all this was a plan on her part and she was a gold digger, or even worse.
The Pregnant Colton Bride Page 14