“You can’t go in there!” Sandra Pennington’s voice rang out loud and clear.
Adam jerked his head around to see the door to his office swing open. Angela Wright, encased in tight jeans and a fox fur jacket, flew into the room, Adam’s secretary on her heels.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wyatt,” Sandra said. “I told Ms. Wright you couldn’t be disturbed, but, as you can see, she didn’t listen.”
“Adam, darling, tell this woman to go away.” Angela unzipped her jacket, revealing the body-hugging turtleneck that accentuated the swell of her huge breasts. “I knew you’d want to see me, no matter how busy you are.”
“Thanks for trying, Sandra,” Adam said. “I can handle things.”
Frowning, Sandra eyed the intruder, a look of disapproval on her face. “Don’t forget your lunch date in about fifteen minutes.”
“I haven’t forgotten. If my date shows up before Ms. Wright leaves, please entertain her in your office.”
“You really shouldn’t keep your date waiting, Mr. Wyatt.” Sandra gave him a warning stare.
“I don’t intend to,” Adam assured her. “Now, go back to work. I can take care of this problem.”
Sandra gave him a yeah-sure look, shrugged and exited his office.
Angela tossed her jacket into a nearby chair, then turned and smiled at Adam. “Who’s your lunch date? Someone the little wifey doesn’t know about, I’ll bet.” When Adam didn’t reply, Angela slinked across the room, rounded his desk and leaned over the back of his chair to drape her arms around his neck. “If you’d wanted a long, hot lunch—” she flicked Adam’s ear with the tip of her tongue “—all you had to do was call me.”
Adam flung off her clinging arms, shot up out of his chair and glared at his former girlfriend. “I’m having a long, hot lunch with the woman of my choice.”
“I guess I’m too late, huh? It didn’t take you as long as I thought to go looking for a little action on the side.” Angela swayed her hips provocatively as she sauntered closer. “I figured you’d be wanting someone more exciting than that freckle-faced, big-eyed wife of yours. How far along is she? Enough for her tummy to be getting in the way?”
Adam laughed. “Not long after we started our affair, I realized I didn’t like you very much, Angela. That I didn’t want to date you anymore. But I never knew what a real bitch you are.”
Angela laid her hands on Adam’s chest. “You seemed to like me well enough when we were making love.”
“We had sex, Angela. A woman like you doesn’t make love, she makes conquests.”
She rubbed herself intimately against him, then slid her arms around his neck. She tried to kiss him—he turned his head to avoid the kiss. She squirmed against him again. “What’s the matter with you? Has the little wifey emasculated you?”
“I don’t want you,” Adam said. “That should be plain enough for even you to understand.” He grabbed her shoulders. She flung her arms around his waist. “I have a wife,” he told her. “I don’t need or want a mistress.”
“If you’re so satisfied being stuck with your pregnant wife, why are you entertaining another woman for lunch today, darling? I’m just sorry you didn’t choose me. But no hard feelings. Call me next time you need somebody to scratch that big, bad itch of yours. Now, give me a goodbye kiss and I’ll be on my way.”
“No kiss,” Adam told her.
“Just a teeny-weeny little kiss?” She puckered up her lips and inclined her head toward his.
At that precise moment, with Adam clutching Angela’s shoulders and Angela’s mouth a whisper from his, the office door swung open. Adam saw Blythe standing in the doorway, Sandra Pennington trying desperately to block her path.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wyatt, but Mrs. Wyatt wouldn’t wait.” Adam flung Angela away from him, took a tentative step toward Blythe and stopped dead in his tracks. The expression on his wife’s face would have stopped a battalion of trained soldiers.
“This is not what it looks like,” Adam said.
“Of course it’s not.” Angela glided across the room, picked up her fur jacket, tossed it over her shoulder and smiled at Blythe. “He was just kicking me out. He said he didn’t have time for me today since he had a hot lunch date with another woman.” Angela turned to Adam, blew him a kiss and slinked past Blythe and Sandra.
“Don’t overreact,” Adam said. “Please let me explain before you make a judgment call on what you think you walked in on.”
Blythe didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t blink. Adam wasn’t sure she even breathed.
He took several more slow, cautious steps toward her. “Today is the first time I’ve seen her since she showed up, uninvited, to our wedding reception. And she came here, today, uninvited.”
Blythe knotted her hands into fists. Her nostrils flared. She narrowed her eyes to two glaring, golden green slits. “She might not have been invited,” Blythe said. “But obviously she wasn’t unwelcome.”
“That’s not true. I told her to leave. She wanted a goodbye kiss before she—”
Adam ducked just in time as Blythe’s handbag came sailing through the air, missing his head by mere inches.
She reached out, grabbed a handful of magazines off a table near the door and tossed them at him, then she lifted a pair of small glass sculptures off the table and flung them, one at a time. The first sculpture hit the side of Adam’s desk, cracking the glass surface. The second hit Adam square in the stomach. He grunted and grabbed his belly.
“You promised me that you wouldn’t...wouldn’t... I should have known you didn’t stay celibate all these months,” Blythe screamed. “You were lying to me all along, seeing that woman behind my back. You’re nothing but a lying, cheating, no-good—man!”
Adam stalked across the room. Blythe backed out into Sandra’s office.
“I haven’t had sex with another woman since the first time I made love to you, and you damn well know it.”
Adam kept walking toward her. She kept backing up. Sandra stood beside her desk, glancing back and forth between her boss and his wife.
“I don’t believed you. You had your arms around that woman. You were going to kiss her!”
“I was trying to shove her off me! And she was trying to kiss me!”
“Do you honestly expect me to believe you?” Blythe shook her index finger at Adam and blinked away her angry tears.
Before he could reply, she turned around and stormed out of the Wyatt Construction Company’s offices, hurried down the hall and punched the elevator Down button. The moment the elevator doors parted, she rushed in and hit the One button for the first floor.
Adam reached the elevator just as the doors began to dose. He stuck his foot between the doors and grabbed each side, pressing the doors apart.
When he stepped into the elevator, Blythe retreated to the corner and crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at him, but had to force herself not to laugh. He looked ridiculous standing there, his face red with anger and his black eyes glowering—with her purse hanging over his shoulder.
He followed her line of vision, grunted, slid her purse off his shoulder and held it out to her. “You forgot this.”
Her lips twitched, but she managed to contain her smile. Accepting her purse, she nodded.
“You asked me if I expected you to believe me.” He moved in closer, hovering over her, as the elevator began its descent. “Well, the answer is yes, I do, especially since I’m telling the truth.”
“Hmph...I’ll bet.”
“I have not been fooling around with Angela.” Exasperated, Adam threw up his hands. “I don’t even like the woman.”
“You don’t have to like someone to... to...”
“No, but you do have to want them.” Adam closed in on Blythe, placing his bands on each side of the elevator wall behind her. “And there’s only one woman I want.”
Blythe swallowed. Her face flushed. Heat suffused her whole body.
He certainly sounded convincing. She wante
d to believe him. Needed to believe him. Dammit, she did believe him. But she had no intention of letting him off the hook so easily. Maybe he hadn’t been having an affair with that bleached-blond bimbo, but he’d been touching her, had been practically kissing her when Blythe had walked into his office.
Adam had said that Angela was trying to kiss him. Blythe tried to recall the the scene she’d barged in on, focusing on every detail, especially Angela Wright’s pouty red mouth all puckered up for Adam’s kiss.
The elevator stopped on the first floor and the doors parted. Blythe slid under his arm, leaving Adam alone in the elevator. He caught up with her just outside the building, his long legs taking two steps for her every one.
He grabbed her by the arm. “Let’s go out for lunch and talk this over.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” She jerked away from him and hurried out into the parking lot.
“Oh, yes, you are!” Adam shouted as he raced up behind her, lifted her off her feet and into his arms.
“Put me down!” Although wiggling and squirming with agitation, she grabbed him around the neck. “I hate your doing this, you know. Just because you’re bigger and stronger, you think you can make me do whatever you want!”
Adam paid no heed to his wife’s tirade or the curious stares of people in the parking lot as he carried Blythe to his car. He unlocked the door, dumped her into the passenger seat, secured her safety belt and locked her in. By the time he got in on the other side, she had unbelted herself and was trying to open the door. Adam reached across the seat, grabbed both her hands in one of his and locked her safety belt in place with the other.
“We’re going out for lunch, then I’m taking you shopping,” he told her.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Well, that’s too bad because we’re going. I don’t intend to let Angela ruin our plans. I’ve been looking forward to spending a few hours with my wife.”
“Don’t I have anything to say about what I want?”
“You wanted to have lunch with me and go shopping for maternity clothes before you found Angela in my office.” Adam revved the motor, then backed the car out of the parking lot.
Blythe crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling very unattractive. She’d always been petite, small-boned, small-breasted and cursed with a thatch of unruly auburn hair, a freckled nose and eyes way too big for her little face. Compared to the Amazonian proportions of Angers voluptuous body, Blythe decided she probably looked like a kid. “She’s very sexy, isn’t she?”
“Who?”
“Angela, dammit. Who have we been arguing about?”
“Yes, Angela is very sexy,” Adam said. “If you like the type.”
“You liked the type, didn’t you? You dated her for months. You slept with her.” Blythe wished the thought of Adam making love to another woman—any other woman, but Angela in particular—didn’t bother her so much. But it did. How in the world would she handle things after their divorce? There were bound to be other women in his life, in his bed. Dear Lord, what if he married again?
“I thought Angela was my type.” Adam shrugged. “I was wrong.” He glanced at Blythe. She looked back at him. “Besides, my taste in women has changed. None of the women I used to date would be my type now.”
Adam kept his vision focused on the road. Blythe breathed in a deep, calming breath. She had made a total fool of herself acting like a jealous wife, which of course was exactly what she was. But if she couldn’t learn to control her emotions, Adam might figure out the truth. He might realize she was in love with him. And that would never do.
“She offered to have sex with you, didn’t she?” Blythe asked.
“I turned down her offer.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because you promised me that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone else while we were married,” Blythe said. If she had learned one thing about Adam over the last few months, it was that he was a man of his word. That’s the reason she believed him, the reason she trusted him.
“And...” Adam cut his eyes in Blythe’s direction.
“And what?”
“That wasn’t the only reason I turned her down,” Adam said.
“I know you said that she isn’t your type anymore. Right?”
Adam veered off the main road and into the parking lot of a minimall, whipped into a parking space and killed the engine.
“I thought we were having lunch at the Italian Garden,” Blythe said. “Why are you stopping here?”
Adam leaned over and grasped Blythe’s face in both his hands. “You know what my type is now, Mrs. Wyatt? My type is a petite redhead, with a sassy mouth, an independent streak in her a mile wide, who likes to watch old horror movies and baseball games on TV with me, who is jealous of all my old girlfriends, and who makes me hard every time she looks at me with her big hazel eyes.”
“Adam!”
He kissed her on the nose, then lifted her hand and rubbed it over his crotch. “All you have to do is look at me and I want you, babe. You. Only you.”
“I don’t know why I should believe you, but I do.” She snatched her hand away, then lifted it to touch his cheek.
“You know I won’t lie to you,” he said. “Our marriage may not be real and we might not have been in love when we made our vows, but as long as you’re my wife, you’ll be my only woman.”
She wasn’t going to apologize or admit that she had overreacted to finding Angela in his office. Nor was she going to admit how much his promise of fidelity meant to her. But she did owe him some measure of conoession. It was up to her to offer an olive branch and help return their relationship to its former friendly—very friendly—terms.
“Adam?”
“What?”
“You know I have to work late tonight.”
“Yes.”
“You could come over to the shop and help me. I could tell Martha Jean she won’t have to work tonight, and you and I could discuss how we want to decorate the nursery, and we could order pizza, and—”
“Is this your way of saying you’re sorry you misjudged me?” he asked.
Sighing she unsnapped her seat belt, cupped his face with her hand, leaned over and kissed him, then retreated quickly. “It’s my way of saying that I approve of your new taste in women.”
“If you don’t stop looking at me that way, I’m going to take you right here, right now.” He growled the words, but his eyes were smiling.
She caressed his chest, then ran her hand down his stomach and boldly fondled his arousal. Adam groaned. “I know a better way for me to say I’m sony.” She lifted her hand, redid her seat belt and sat up straight. “Tonight.”
With her greatest fear a reality—falling in love with Adam—she really didn’t have a logical reason to keep him at arm’s length. Even if he couldn’t be hers forever, she could make him hers for a little while.
Adam’s body grew harder. His mind reeled with anticipation. Tonight, he thought, and smiled.
“Here. That’s the last one.” Adam tossed Blythe the red velvet bow, then stretched his back, lifting his hips up off the stool where he sat beside his wife at her work desk. “Now, I’m ready to devour that pizza.”
Blythe slid off her stool, grunting when her feet hit the floor. Every muscle in her body ached. She and Adam had been working for over three hours preparing a huge order of Christmas wreaths for a local church that wanted one for every church door, inside and out.
“Let me give you a back rub, babe.” He stood, grasped her shoulders and smiled when she sighed. “I had no idea your job was so tiring.” He massaged her shoulders. “To be honest, I guess I don’t know very much about being a florist. I thought all you did was arrange and deliver flowers.”
“That was the florist of yesterday,” Blythe said, flexing her back as Adam moved his hands downward, pressing and kneading her sore, tired muscles. “Not only do I arrange and deliver flowers
, I have a whole selection of silk flowers and make arrangements for people’s homes. And I sell all sorts of accessories for the home and garden.”
“Do you really want to expand your business to include a nursery?” Adam asked, sliding his hand under the new hunter green maternity top they’d bought on their shopping spree this afternoon. His hand stilled on her soft, warm flesh.
She sighed. “Don’t stop. It feels so good. And yes, after the baby’s a little older, I’d like to buy some property and combine my florist shop with a nursery.”
“Would you consider letting me buy the land for you?” He continued massaging her shoulders and back.
“No, I wouldn’t. You’ll be doing enough for me after... after our divorce. Building me and the baby a house and paying the salaries of my two employees and—”
“I’m a rich man, babe. Most women in your situation would take advantage of that fact.”
Tilting her head to one side she looked up at him without turning completely around. “I’m not most women.”
Before she knew what was happening, he turned her around, lowered his head and kissed her. She jerked away from him.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“That’s for being you, and not most women.”
“Oh.” Blythe smiled. “I’ll accept that answer. I liked it. You can rub my back some more. I like that, too.”
Chuckling, Adam pulled her back against him, slipped his arm around her waist and drew her hips into the cleft between his slightly parted legs. “This is what feels good.” He moved against her, letting her feel his rigid sex.
“Pizza time.” She pulled out of his embrace and practically ran into the back storeroom where Adam had laid their pizza ten minutes ago when the delivery boy arrived earlier than expected.
Adam followed her. “No use running, babe. It won’t do any good. If I thought running would cool my blood, I’d run clean out of the country.”
“I’m not running,” she lied, but kept her back to him so he couldn’t see her face. “I’m just hungry. As a matter of fact, I’m starving.” She patted her tummy. “And so is Elliott”
“Elliott?”
The Tender Trap Page 14