by Sun Chara
Heck, if he was going to end up in the doghouse himself, at least he had company. Grinning, he climbed the steps and crossed the veranda to the front door. He turned the handle. He frowned. He twisted, jiggled, and yanked at the brass knob.
“No.” He shook his head. “Impossible.”
A wistful twist marred his mouth. The way he’d bolted from the house should make this no surprise. Of course, he could pound on the door, signaling Ellie to come downstairs and let him in. He hesitated. Would she? Or would she ignore him? His pride had taken enough hits these last few weeks, not to mention the pummeling today. On the other hand, if she was asleep, he didn’t want to wake her.
Kicking the door down was a possibility. He pursed his lips and, deciding against it, leaned back against the wall. A deep sigh, and he slid down, landing on his backside and propping his elbows on his bended knees. Spending a cold night on the veranda wasn’t an option. He cleared his throat and leaped up, walking the circuit twice, searching for a way to break in.
He locked his fingers, stretched, and his knuckles crackled. He’d have to climb the oak tree to his bedroom and hope no one mistook him for a burglar. That’s all he needed to add to his woes; his mug shot splattered all over the newspapers, stashing the vultures’ arsenal who were ‘gunning’ for him.
“No way,” he muttered.
He stood at the foot of the tree and glanced upward. As a kid, he scrambled up bigger ones and although he’d gotten bumped and bruised, he found the climb to the top exhilarating. He calculated the odds at his age, now thirty-three. With no other alternative, he shrugged from his jacket, tied it around his waist, and jumped, clutching the lower limb.
“Gotcha!” He hauled himself up and straddled the sturdy branch. It held his weight and he breathed easier. Swiping foliage out of his way, he continued climbing.
When he neared the top, the clouds burst in a sudden shower and soaked him. “What’s happened to the California sunshine?” he grumbled, thinking even the weather was against him.
He blinked raindrops from his lashes and reached for the window ledge. A twig gouged a hole in his shirt; he missed the mark and ended up with a handful of leaves. A growl shot from deep in his throat and he shimmied closer along the branch. He grabbed the next one up, and balancing like a high-wire act, stretched out, seizing the window molding.
Unlocked. Relief coursed through him and he slid the pane open, glad he decided against window screens. He pulled himself onto the ledge, wiggled through the gap, and landed with a thud, curtains wrapping around him. Impatiently, he shoved them aside and squinted in the shadowed room.
He heard the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing. Good, she was asleep. He didn’t want her witnessing his humiliation, yet again. But wanting to check on her, he stepped closer and an x-rated expletive burst from him. Air blocked in his chest and his heart thudded. He snapped into action.
*
Several hours later, Ellie fluttered her lashes open. She moved her leg, felt no pain, but felt him. Realizing she was nude, she groaned and turned over, her gaze clashing with her husband’s amused eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tone accusing.
“Sleeping.”
“Bu-ut, you’re not supposed to—”
“With you?” He bent his elbow and supported his chin in his hand. The motion only made the sheet ride low on his waist, tantalizing her with what lay hidden beneath.
“Ye-es.” So sexy, this man she married. Dark hair swirled at the center of his chest, then streaked down his navel and beyond to what was hidden beneath the bed sheet. She swallowed. He’d filled her hands and she teased him with her fingers, playing, touching, stroking— The memory shot a dart into the center of her heart … she ached… for him. He lay so close, hair on his thigh grazed her leg, but distance wedged them apart. “We agreed.”
“So we did.”
“You didn’t keep your word.”
“That I did, mia cara.” He lowered his lashes a fraction. The sheet slipped lower with every agitated word she spoke, and he zoned in on the swell of her breasts. He ran his forefinger over her shoulder and reached up, smoothing a curl behind her ear. “I didn’t touch you.”
She drew away. “I don’t have any clothes underneath this sheet.”
He laughed. “Not a first, surely, Ellie?”
“That was different—”
His eyes darkened. “How so?”
“We were … I mean you and I … we were—” A hot wave tinted her cheeks and she blinked her confusion.
“Making love.”
Erotic images fleeted through her head and to shut them up, she said, “You had no right to undress me, Peter.” She hadn’t imagined him.
During her restless sleep, she felt his warm hands defuse iciness from her body. She’d curved closer to his heat, and when he lifted her head to remove her top, she opened her eyes for a split second, but it had all been so fuzzy. Drowsy, she’d drifted off to sleep.
“I did it for your own good.”
“Oh?” She brushed a hand across the dry bandage at her temple.
“When I stumbled into the room—”
She arched a golden eyebrow.
“Never mind.” He shook his head. “You were shaking, your teeth chattering. Running a fever.”
Silence.
“I figured you’d change before falling asleep.”
“I intended to—”
“I had to get you out of that damp bikini. Get you under the covers. Change the wet bandage. Keep you warm.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, her next words acerbic. “Did the remedy include you under the covers with me?”
“It did.” He leaned closer, his scent titillating and his breath tickling her ear.
Dangerous.
“Hmm.” Sensations she’d pushed far back in her psyche flared to life, but she resisted. She shoved him, but he stayed his claim.
“Woman, you were in shock.” He spread his arms on either side of her and trapped her against his heart. Her breasts pressed against his chest.
Delicious.
“The fastest way to warm you was body heat to body heat.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
“Only if you want me to.” His eyes hot with desire challenged her.
She writhed beneath him, wanting him to explore every curve, touch every inch, lavish every spot of her body with his mouth, his tongue; take her on a ride to the moon. Her mind balked and her heart throbbed. “Yes…”
“Yes?” He held his breath, hesitated a second and exhaled a blast of air. Caressing wisps of hair off her brow, he placed his lips to the spot, his tongue teasing her skin. His mouth explored her temple, the curve of her cheek, the shadow of her throat. He cupped her breast.
Ellie closed her eyes. Just for a moment. His touch electrified every nerve in her body, creating a typhoon of emotion inside her. Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse raced, her stomach fluttered and her senses heightened. Sexual fantasy flared across her mind. He slid his leg between hers, his hair grazing her skin, his moist body heat gliding over her. Her limbs melted. Sensation shot through her. She wanted to—wanted him. How she wanted to let this moment take its course.
If she gave in now, she’d forfeit any headway she made in compelling him to see her in a different light. See her as more than his bedroom playmate. His property. Her mind besieged her heart. She might win this slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am night of passion with her husband, but ultimately she’d lose. Shallow puffs of air slipped between her lips. She’d lose herself to him. Lose him to his profession. Lose the marriage to sexual encounters with him.
In order to change the course of their relationship, she’d have to say no, even if every fiber of her being screamed yes!
Still hesitating, she licked her lips. He groaned. She gulped. Perhaps this once, she could give in. Oh, how she wanted, craved, his love, his sex.
She closed her eyes and remembered the gauntlet he’d thrown d
own. You’ll be asking for it, begging me. Dear God, what had happened to them, their dreams, their life?
She stroked his cheek with her fingers, hating what she was about to say. “Yes …”
He sighed into her neck, licked, kissed.
“… if that’s what I wanted.”
He froze. A rasping sound ripped from him and he flipped on his back. “But it’s not … what you want.” His words forced, icy.
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Either way, she’d give herself away. She dared not even glance at him, for he’d see the mist glazing her pupils. “I-I have to get up,” she murmured, her voice cracking.
“Your words say one thing, but your body another, dear wife.” And to score his point, he reached over and brushed her nipple with his thumb.
That little bud shot to erection. Ellie groaned at her body’s betrayal and, pulling the sheet over herself, turned away from him. She blinked, tears welling in her eyes. “Get out of my bed, Peter.”
He chuckled, a dry sound. “Sure thing, signora.” He slid from beneath the covers and walked to the window, dawn light glinting off his bronzed body.
Ellie curled underneath the satin sheets and watched him. He pulled the curtain aside and pondered the outdoors. She wondered what was going through his mind and if she had a place in his thoughts. He stretched his arms over his head that moments ago … a lifetime gone … had possessed her, and locked his hands behind his neck. The promise of magic his fingers could work over her flesh lingered in the air.
Ellie strobed her sights over his tight tush and down his muscular legs, which a heartbeat ago had anchored her beneath him. A stirring inside her. She made to glance away, but instead remained mesmerized by the bulge at the apex of his thighs. Although shadow camouflaged him, she knew his solid strength and sexual desire zapped inside her.
A loaded moment and he let the curtain fall back in place, the rustling sound like a caress, a lover’s touch. He turned. She saw him full frontal and gasped. Her pulse scrambled, her body hot and moist. How she wanted … craved … he was hers for the asking … all she had to do … she moved beneath the covers … stopped. The price was too high … herself. But then, what will your life be without him, mmm? She pulled the covers over her head and eclipsed the warning.
A frustrated sigh escaped from deep within her and she flipped over, her fist pressed against her mouth, a whimper feathering from her lips.
“Som’m the matter?” He snatched his jeans from the corner chair, where he tossed them the night before.
“Go to he—”
“Been there,” he murmured. “Wanna come along?”
“Oooh!” She pummeled the bed with her fists and heels.
“I take it that’s a no.” He grabbed his shirt and ambled toward the bathroom, whistling.
She gritted her teeth and tossed the sheet off her head. Whistling. Grr! At a time when every cell in her body seemed about to burst, he was behaving like he hadn’t a care in the world. The man was driving her mad.
Whatever possessed her to stay with him for three weeks? An excuse to teach him a lesson is why you agreed, the voice in her head prodded. Show him that you didn’t need him. Which was a joke. It was only the second day and her body throbbed with her need of him, his love. But was the feeling mutual? Or had she simply become a necessary addition for his career? After all, the ‘right wife’ could be an asset to an ambitious man like Peter. Of course, she’d been groomed to fit that role and gone along with the transformation for him. She stared at the sparkles on the ceiling, wondering why he’d chosen a plain girl like her …
It had been a stormy November night and she’d just entered the last book return in the library computer.
“Hello, Miss.” She heard his voice, deep and mellow, drift to her and furrowed her forehead, busy stacking books on the trolley. “Sorry, we’re closed,” she said, without looking his way.
“This’ll take just a sec.” He rapped his fingers on the counter. “Do you have the medical journal by…”
She tapped her toe in impatience, glanced up, and got sucked into his midnight-blue gaze.
“…Kagen and Kagen?”
“Wha-at?” She swallowed the rest of her words and swiped her moist hands on her thighs. Her pulse rocked.
“Do you have—”
“Oh, I think so.” She smiled at him. Hey, it wasn’t everyday a sexy pinup boy strolled onto her turf. And a continental type to boot. She’d bet her meager paycheck that with his Italian good looks and hypnotic eyes he had more than one female head turning his way. But it seemed he was focused only on his errand.
“Where is it?” he asked, oblivious of the direction of her thoughts.
“Yes, of course… the journal.” Her fantasies shattered, tinkling around her feet like a glass slipper. In looks, wealth, and station, this guy, with his designer shirt and gold watch strapped to his wrist, was light years from her sphere. And he looked only about twenty-eight.
At twenty-three, she shopped at the local Goodwill store and had to stretch her minimum wage salary to last the month. What she earned helped keep a roof over her and her parents’ heads and paid for her baby brother’s meds. Due to the economic downturn in the country, she was the only one bringing home any cash, and with the house in jeopardy, she had to cut costs where she could; that had included her studies in fashion design and marketing. But she’d never given up on her singing dream, for amidst the chaos of her life, it was the only thing that kept her sane. It cost her nothing, and she could belt out a tune in the shower, or while moonlighting at the local pub on weekends.
A wistful sound grazed her tongue.
He cleared his throat and she blinked. Unbelievable, but just for a second, she’d forgotten about this hunk in front of her. Now he commanded her attention once more.
“Oh, yes, the book.” She grinned at pinup boy numero uno, and her hands trembled. Yep, no princess she, but here was Prince Charming in the flesh.
A sigh filtered from her mouth and he squinted at her.
Snap out of it, Ellie.
“Two aisles down on your left, near the back workstation.” She pointed the way and pressed the stack of books to her bosom. Daydreams were a distraction and she nipped them from the get-go. She couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by him, no matter his perfect ten packaging. She had to concentrate on her work… the job that paid the bills.
“I don’t have time to scout for it.” He batted the black lock flopping over his brow with an impatient hand.
“What are you doing here, then?”
A flitter of annoyance crossed his features, then he flashed her his killer smile, his dimple making her heart skip. “Would you find it for me?”
Okay, she’d play along. “What’s it worth to you?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
You’re going to get singed, girl.
She ignored the warning bombarding her brain. The bills were paid for the month, so she’d toss her angst aside; she’d enjoy this rich playboy’s company for a few minutes to break the monotony of her life. Chances were she’d never bump into him again, so no danger.
No? The voice needled. She bashed it far and away into the dome ceiling.
“Hmm.” He stroked his cheek, giving her the once-over. He spotlighted her eyes, her mouth… a pause at her bosom and then his blade-thin focus shot back up clashing with her raised eyebrows.
Heat spread over her body. She was thankful her body was hidden beneath a beige turtleneck sweater and matching mid-length skirt skimming the tops of her black boots. His silent scrutiny made her fidget, and she felt her face flaming. She twisted away from him and set the books on the trolley, her hair shielding her flushed cheeks.
Where had she gotten the nerve to flirt with him in this brazen way? The long hours on her feet, bored out of her wits, must’ve been the catalyst.
“I-I was only kidding.” She turned back his way, hoping the blush staining her face had diminished. “If you wait a sec, I’ll help
you.”
“No waiting,” he demanded. “I have to get back to class for an exam.” He heaved a sigh, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Pizza and a movie this weekend.”
“But I don’t like pizza.” Oh, she was bad. She loved pizza.
But he wasn’t having any of it. “Get the book.”
Okay, the fun had gone far enough. He had the look of a love ’em and leave ’em type. She’d not be his next target. “No thank you to your offer.”
“I don’t like to owe anybody.” He rubbed his hand across the faint stubble on his jaw.
“You don’t owe—”
“Find the book.”
At her elevated brows, he added, “Please.”
She nodded. “Yes, of course, sir.”
His commanding tone had her prickling, but she found the book. He’d come back the next day for another journal… the pizza and movie date advanced to dinner and dancing… kissing and romancing… and she’d married him…
And from the get-go, he’d pursued his career with a vengeance. Now here they were, five years later, on the brink of divorce. Her heart sank.
Ellie shifted beneath the covers. She’d gone from a bored doctor’s wife, to a busy bored doctor’s wife, fluttering from luncheons to shopping sprees to medical events. She’d begun questioning herself, him, their relationship. She imagined a marriage where they’d share their lives, their dreams, and their future. Share an intimacy that was more than sexual.
Her temples pounded. How was this possible when he implied her career choice might cost him his? If that were to happen now, she’d hate herself. On the other hand, his unrelenting ambition might snuff out the hope of pursuing hers. If that were to happen, she’d not only despise herself but Peter too.
Ellie groaned from the depths of her being. They were on a collision course, and she feared there was no way to slam on the brakes. At a loss, she drew the covers up to her chin and held on tightly.
Just then, Peter walked in from the bathroom dressed in hip-hugging denims and a matching shirt, his hair damp. His feet were bare. Each step he took brought him closer. A lump of emotion had her nearly gagging, and she gulped it down. Her pulse sprinted.