by Patti Berg
“A little.”
“I’ll start a fire for you. Get this place warmed up.”
She wasn’t cold at all. She was nervous. She didn’t like the idea of being in his bedroom—so close to his bed.
“Is this your room?” she asked, hoping he’d say no, because she wanted to sleep in that big old four-poster bed.
“Yeah. I’ve been sleeping in here for thirty-two years.”
“Well, I’m not going to sleep in here,” she said bluntly. “No way.”
“This isn’t a hotel, Sam. It’s not some big fancy mansion, either, and I’m afraid I’m fresh out of guest bedrooms.”
“Then I’ll sleep in the living room.”
“No you won’t. You’ll sleep here. You’re my fiancée, remember? In case you’ve forgotten, I paid you to make this look real between you and me.”
“You didn’t pay me to sleep with you.”
“I didn’t ask you to sleep with me, did I?”
“You implied it. You’ve been doing that all afternoon.”
“I kissed you, damn it! Since when does that mean I want anything more?”
She felt her jaws tighten as she turned away from his heated gaze. “Maybe I was making too many assumptions.”
“You sure as hell were.”
He set her down on the floor, and she fought the weakness in her legs. She wasn’t about to collapse and have to suffer through his picking her up again. He’d just made his intentions perfectly clear. She was here for one reason and one reason only. And that meant when they were alone—she didn’t have to put up with his touches.
“Just so neither one of us assumes anything more while I’m here, let me make something clear.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”
“You can touch me when your family and friends are present. You can say nice things to me, and I’ll do the same to you—when we’re in someone else’s presence. But when we’re by ourselves—I want to be left alone, no touching, no kissing, no nice words. That’s the only way I’m going to go through with the rest of this charade.”
“If that’s the way you want to play it, be my guest.”
He stormed across the room and grabbed the doorknob. “There’s some kind of bubble bath under the sink in the bathroom. Lauren sent it to me a long time ago, and it’s never been opened. Take a bath. A long one.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll bring up your luggage later.”
“Fine!” she threw back. “Just knock before you come in.”
“That’s going to look odd.”
“This whole thing’s odd, in case you haven’t realized it.”
She could see his chest rise and fall. Could see the angry set of his jaw as he opened the door. “What about dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll bring up a tray.”
If he said or tried to do one more nice thing, she was going to throw something at him. She had her mind set on being mad—that was the only way she could survive this craziness.
“It’s been a long day, Jack. I’m wet. I’m tired. And I’d like to be alone.”
He looked as if he was going to throw back some retort, but he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head and left the room, closing the door behind him.
A tear slid from her eye. The very first tear she’d ever shed from a breaking heart.
Lauren came bursting out of her room a moment after Jack walked into the hall, but at the moment, he didn’t want to talk to her. What he wanted was to get on his horse and ride off some of the steam that had built up inside of him.
Sam Jones was driving him mad. He didn’t imagine his sister would help the situation.
“I’m so glad you’re home, Jack,” Lauren said, blowing on what looked like freshly painted fingernails. “I was worried sick.” She started to throw her arms around Jack, then came to a screeching halt. “What on earth happened to you? You’re filthy.”
“A slight altercation with a cow.”
“Is Arabella all right?”
“She’s fine. A little sore from the accident—”
“Accident!”
“It wasn’t anything serious,” he said, continuing his journey down the stairs with Lauren hot on his heels. “She’s upstairs getting ready to soak in the tub. I thought she might like resting a bit.”
“What she needs is some wine,” Lauren said.
“What she needs is quiet.”
“Don’t worry, Jack, I’m not going to monopolize her time.” Lauren stopped in the doorway leading to the kitchen, turned around, and smiled at Jack. “I just want to say hello, take her a nice glass of that Chablis you keep for special occasions, and maybe some cheese and crackers.”
It was no use arguing with his sister. It was no use arguing with any woman because they always won.
He left the house through the living room instead of following Lauren into the kitchen, went to the truck, and started grabbing suitcases out of the backseat.
“Need some help with those things?” Beau walked toward the truck, adjusting the new black Stetson on his head.
“Thanks.” Jack handed two of the smaller bags to Beau, shoved the brown, duct-taped suitcase under his arm, and latched on to the two bigger ones.
“I hear you’ve been in a foul mood all day. Care to talk about it?”
Beau shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“Does it have anything to do with Arabella?”
“Like I said, it’s no big deal.”
Jack hated noncommittal answers and didn’t care for Beau’s sulking, either. “If you’ve got concerns about me having a woman in my life, you’d better tell me now.”
Beau was silent a moment, and finally asked, “Have you had a lot of women in your life?”
“Enough. Haven’t found too many who liked the ranching part of my life.”
“What about Arabella. Is she going to like it here?”
He already knew Sam liked the country—even if she didn’t care much for him. He answered as honestly as he could. “I think so.”
“Are you two getting married soon?”
“Haven’t really decided.”
“Are you going to have kids?”
Jack shoved the bags on the front seat and leaned against the cab. “We haven’t decided that, either.”
Beau swung the suitcases he was holding over the side of the truck, set them in the bed, and stood next to Jack. He stared at the side of the barn, focused on nothing more than his thoughts, Jack imagined. “I could go back home if you want me to.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Does what I want matter?”
“Does to me.”
“I want to stay, but I don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re not.”
“What if Arabella doesn’t want me here?”
Jack put an arm around the boy. The real Arabella might have kicked up a fuss. The woman upstairs in his bedroom seemed to run hot and cold about what she wanted, but on sheer instinct alone, he knew damn good and well she would leave before she’d let anything come between Jack and his son.
“I want you here, Beau. That’s the only thing that matters.”
He saw a smile on Beau’s mouth and fought the lump in his throat. “Come on. Help me take these things inside.”
Sam lounged in a bathtub filled with sweetly scented bubbles. Her hair was pinned on top of her head, and she rested against the back of the tub, trying her hardest to relax when all she could think of was Jack coming upstairs to deliver her luggage or a tray of food.
She didn’t want to see him right now.
Then again, she did, but under totally different circumstances.
With her eyes closed, she imagined the charade was over, that she was back in West Palm Beach in a little apartment she’d rented with her own money. She pretended that Jack had flown to Florida with no other thought in mind but seeing her. They’d had dinner together. They’d gone dancing, and she
’d invited him in because neither of them wanted the night to end.
By then she was feeling kind of dreamy, letting her imagination run wild. What could it hurt to pretend? It seemed the closest she would ever get to having any more wonderful memories.
She dragged a big sponge over her stomach, across her breasts, and suddenly a make-believe Jack was in the tub with her. She’d never shared a bath with a man. Never stood naked in the shower with a lover who was doing erotic things to her body, but her imagination was running wild.
Would it be so awful if she gave in to the feelings she had for him? Would it be so horrible if they made love, if she left this charade with a few wonderful memories?
When she heard the creak of the bathroom door, she made a foolish, absolutely insane and spur of the moment decision. She wanted Jack—even if her heart broke in the end.
“Want to join me?” she asked softly.
“Not today, thank you.”
“Oh, God!”
She slid down in the tub till her chin touched the bubbles, and wished she could hide completely. She opened her eyes to see Lauren standing in the doorway with a tray holding two glasses of wine.
“I thought you were Jack.”
“I assumed as much.” Lauren set the tray on the far end of the tub, and took a seat on the toilet. “Hope you don’t mind me barging in. I told Jack I wouldn’t take up too much of your time, but he’s talking to Beau, and I thought you might like some company.”
She handed a glass of wine to Sam and took one for herself. “I brought crackers and cheese, too. I was hoping there were truffles in the house, or something else decadently chocolate, but when you see that kitchen, you’ll know this place is inhabited by nothing but men.”
Lauren took a sip of her wine. “Now, this is wonderful. Jack says it’s from some special reserve in California. I prefer French wines myself, but Jack’s more the all-American kind of guy.”
Sam tasted the pale pink wine. She didn’t know a Bordeaux from a pinot noir, but Lauren was right. It tasted delicious. “Thank you for bringing the wine.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all.” Lauren took a piece of cheese from the tray and nibbled at the edge. “I know you just got here, and I’m sure you’re awfully tired, but I was hoping we could talk.”
“About Peter?”
Lauren nodded, and Sam saw a tear slide down her cheek before she wiped it away.
“You’d think after two failed marriages I’d know when a man isn’t right for me.”
“Peter’s gorgeous. He’s charming.” Sam was looking for the right words to say but found it difficult. “He’s—”
“Out of my life for good,” Lauren stated.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
Sam heard Jack’s boots and his distinctive walk before he stuck his head into the bathroom. “Am I interrupting something.”
“No,” Lauren said. “I was just starting to cry again, but I can do it by myself.”
Lauren started to get up, but Sam reached out of the tub and caught her hand. She’d been saved from doing something totally insane, and she didn’t want Lauren walking out now, leaving her alone with Jack, who was staring at the bubbles that hid her naked body.
“Don’t leave, Lauren.”
“No, don’t leave,” Jack repeated. “I just wanted to tell Arabella I’d brought up her luggage. Thought I might take a ride with Beau,” Jack stated. “You two take your time.”
“You don’t mind?” Lauren asked, looking from Sam to Jack, then back again.
“We don’t mind at all,” Sam said. “Do we, Jack?”
“Well—”
He had an odd look on his face, a sly smile that made her feel uncomfortable. He walked into the bathroom, right up to the tub. Bending down, he planted a kiss smack on her lips.
He moved back an inch or two, and winked. “I’ll see you later, Whiskey.” He stood, but continued to stare at the bubbles that were disappearing far too fast.
“Whiskey,” Lauren repeated. “What a lovely nickname.”
“It’s the color of her eyes,” Jack informed his sister. “You may not notice it, but they’re damned intoxicating.”
Sam could hear Lauren sigh as Jack turned and walked out of the room.
She rolled her eyes. This entire situation was crazy.
Lauren crossed her legs and drummed nervous fingers atop her knee. “Peter never called me anything other than Lauren,” she said. “It’s obvious now that he didn’t have any real feelings for me.”
There was so much more behind feelings than a special name, Sam thought, but she didn’t say that to Lauren. Instead, she took a sip of wine, and held the glass close to her lips. “Tell me what happened with Peter.”
“Remember that special present he was going to give me after dinner the other night?”
Sam nodded, remembering the dinner and the way Peter picked on Lauren most of the evening. She’d chosen the wrong wine with her steak. She should eat steamed vegetables instead of buttery potatoes. Sam recalled thinking that although the sex might have been good between those two, there wasn’t anything closely resembling love coming from Peter.
“Well,” Lauren said with another sigh, “he kept the secret all the way to London. I was dying to know, but he wouldn’t tell me. He said it was something we were both going to love. A car met us at Heathrow and we had the nicest drive out to the country. You’ve been there before, haven’t you?”
“No. I’m a lot like Jack. Pretty much all-American.”
“No wonder you’re so suited for each other. Anyway, Peter took me to this beautiful old castle. A gorgeous place with swans on the lake and a hedgerow maze that was centuries old. I knew Peter had won a lot of money playing polo, but I knew he couldn’t possibly afford to buy me a country home in England.”
“Had he?”
“Oh, no. We were ushered inside by this very tall, very svelte woman who looked me up one end and down the other and pronounced me the perfect candidate for her spa.” Lauren popped a slice of cheese into her mouth, chewed it slowly, and swallowed. She looked down at the floor. “The castle was a fat farm.”
“For you?”
“For me.” Lauren dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Maybe I do have fifteen or twenty pounds I could lose, but Peter told me and the woman who ran the spa that I had an eating disorder that needed to be controlled. He said our lovemaking was wonderful, but…but that I was getting a little too thick around the middle. I just couldn’t understand a man giving me something like that as a present.”
Sam was aghast. Lauren was radiant, and a decent human would never notice a few extra pounds. They wouldn’t even notice fifty or a hundred, because the woman beneath the body was lovely, warm, and generous.
But Peter was only slightly human, and Sam could easily picture him presenting Lauren with a cruel and tasteless present.
Sam took a sip of wine, and tried to think of something to say. “Was Peter going to stay there with you?”
“Oh, no. Not Peter. He’d already planned to go back to London. He had reservations at the Ritz, and had accepted half a dozen invitations to parties with his friends. The fat farm was his gift to me and me alone. He told me it was highly recommended, that I could relax for two entire weeks, sit around eating gourmet cucumber slices and getting wrapped in plastic wrap—in all the right places—so I could be slim and trim for our wedding. He said he’d treat me to a new necklace when I got out. Something that would look wonderful on my new and improved body.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“Before or after I pushed him into the lake?”
“You didn’t!”
“I most certainly did. I told him if he liked the idea of plastic wrap so much, he should stay and have his head done to take away some of the swelling. As for muscle tone, I suggested he try some of the spa’s workouts on his dick, because it was sorely lacking in strength and endurance.”
Sam choked on her sip
of wine.
“Are you all right?” Lauren asked, jumping up and grabbing the glass from Sam.
“I’m fine.” And then she started to laugh.
Lauren joined in.
Finally, Lauren took a deep breath and sighed. “I did the right thing, didn’t I?”
“Do you miss him?”
“No.”
“Then you did the right thing.”
Lauren looked at Sam through tear-dampened eyelashes. “What if no one else wants me?”
“I can’t imagine that ever happening, but would being alone be so bad?”
“I don’t know. I’ve tried not to be alone since I was a child.”
“First off, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got friends all over the world. You’ve got Jack, and Beau, and Crosby. You’ve got me,” she said, reaching out through the bubbles and holding Lauren’s hand. “Isn’t there anything you’ve wanted to do, but didn’t have the time because you were too busy with a husband or boyfriend?”
“I’ve never given it much thought.”
“Is there something you do better than anyone else you know?”
Lauren took a sip of wine while pondering the question. “I throw the best parties in Palm Beach.”
Sam smiled at the unexpected answer. “Have you ever thought of going into business?”
“I don’t need any money.”
“You could always donate what you make to, oh, maybe the homeless people in West Palm Beach.”
“I like that idea,” Lauren said, as she tapped a perfectly manicured index finger against her lips. “I wonder how much Jack would pay me to plan your wedding?”
Sam let her head fall back against the tub. “We haven’t given much thought to a wedding.”
“Oh, but you should.” Lauren stood up and lifted the tray from the edge of the tub. “Thanks for making me feel a little better about Peter.” She sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve made him sound absolutely horrid, but he does have some wonderful qualities.”
“I’m sure he does,” Sam fibbed. “But you deserve so much more.”
“Someday I hope to have something close to what you and Jack have. Think I ever will?”