"But I can't sleep here." Natalie's cheeks coloured.
"Surely, you can see that."
"Of course." Caitlin stood up and tucked her hands into the pockets of her well-worn jeans. "Certainly, I can see it. I mean, who knows what might happen if you and Gage had to share this room?"
Natalie's blush deepened. "Nothing would happen," she said briskly. "It's just that I'd rather not."
"As I said, Nat, I understand." Caitlin offered a woman to-woman smile. "You don't love Gage anymore. And he doesn't love you. Still ... Caitlin winked. "You're a woman, he's a man. You obviously find each other attractive-"
"Found," Natalie said quickly.
"That's what I meant. You found each other attractive, once upon a time. So, who knows? The pheromones might still be in the air."
"The what might still be in the air?"
"You know. The stuff that drew you together-in the first place." Caitlin turned away and began fluffing the pillows on the bed. "And I can see where you certainly wouldn't want to let Gage, you know, think he could get you into bed again."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! Gage couldn't get me into bed if he got down and begged."
"Sure. I understand. But he won't, when I tell him he's going to have to bunk in with Travis or Slade."
"What do you mean, he won't?"
"Oh, you know how men are." Caitlin arched her brows.
"Gage has such a huge ego that as soon as I tell him you won't share a room with him, he'll figure it's because you don't trust yourself."
''Trust myself?"
"Uh huh. Trust yourself."
Natalie huffed out a breath. "That," she said, "is altogether ridiculous."
It certainly was, but Caitlin figured she was on a roll.
Dazzle 'em with talk and go easy on the facts. She'd heard Jonas say that a dozen times to explain how he managed to make so many brilliant deals. And that was just what she was doing, now.
"I know you won't let him near you. You know you won't let him near you. And we both know he'll have to spend the night on the chaise longue in the dressing room." She sighed. "But Gage won't know a thing. He'll tell himself, and Trav, and Slade, and anybody else who'll listen, that you're still crazy about him, that you don't trust yourself to share a room with him. By tomorrow morning, speculation about your sex life--or your supposed lack of a sex life-will be the topic of the hour. Why, I can just hear Jonas, at that breakfast buffet for sixty, telling everybody who'll listen exactly how-"
"Forget putting Gage in with his brothers," . Natalie snapped. "The skunk'll stay right here, tying to fit himself onto a couch half his size, while I sleep the sleep of the righteous, in that bed."
"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Caitlin said, trying not to sound smug.
"I'm positive." Natalie slung her carry-on onto the bed and opened it. "Were you serious about lending me something to wear?"
"Of course."
"Good." She smiled grimly. "I just hope you've got something slinky that fits me, Catie. I'm going to give that man exactly what he deserves, the sight of his dressed-for-sin wife flirting with half the men here and then telling him it's hands-off once the lights are 'out. I'm going to send that man's libido into hyperspace."
Caitlin laughed and held out her hand. "Let's go take a look."
"Let's," Natalie said, and it wasn't until hours later that she realized that sending Gage's libido into hyperspace had probably not been the best of ideas.
By seven-thirty, most of the guests had arrived.
By eight, a crowd glittery enough to have been at home in any of the world's major cities had collected in the living room, overflowed into the library, and pushed out onto the three-level terrace.
It was a scene that reminded Gage all too clearly of the night at the Holcombs's. The mob of people, the canapés, the wine, the standing around and waiting-
Waiting for the axe to fall.
Sooner or later, his wife had to put in an appearance, and only a miracle would keep her from trying to kill him.
He hadn't seen Natalie all afternoon. He, his brothers and Grant had stayed in the hayloft for a while, talking about life in general, women in particular, and the amazing circumstances that had brought Grant to Espada.
"One of my partners," Grant had said, "a guy named Sam Abraham, handled your father's affairs for years. Sam retired a couple of months back, and I took over."
"Well," Travis had said, "it's just great that you came down for the party. Is your wife with you?"
Grant had looked down at his hands, cleared his throat and muttered something about how it was great, wasn't it, and yeah, Crista was with him and, uh, and he figured maybe being away together for a couple of days would be a pretty good thing. .
Just about then, Caitlin had come along, looking for Slade.
Travis had wandered off, and Gage had figured he'd use his, time alone with Grant to tell him that he'd thought of calling him when he'd figured he'd need a lawyer.
"But I've changed my mind," he'd said as the two of them stood leaning against a fence. "I don't intend to let, NatalIe divorce me, dammit. I still love her, and I'm not convinced ... Grant? Are you listening?"
"Sure," Grant had replied, and then he'd sighed and launched into his own tale of woe, which seemed to involve a gorgeous wife, a scruffy mongrel dog, a cat and twin daughters, Jessamyn and Jennifer. He'd produced a photo of two adorable babies seated in the lap of an exotic-looking brunette.
"My wife, Crista," Grant said, and then he cleared his throat, hard. "She says I don't understand her."
And then the two of them had swapped stories that only proved that Crista was right because how could any rational man ever hope to understand an irrational, emotional, impossible-to-please female?
Eventually, Grant's wife had come looking for him. She was gorgeous, all right, but Gage didn't have to be a genius to see that she treated Grant the same polite, impersonal way Natalie had treated him the past few months.
"Time to change for dinner," Crista had said after introductions, and Grant had gone back to the house with her.
Gage had gone back, too. His bedroom had been empty, but Natalie's suitcase was there, and the faint trace of her perfume.
He'd showered and put on his tux-twice in less than a month was more than enough for any man-and he'd tried not to put any special significance in the fact that Natalie hadn't barricaded the bedroom door or left his things in the hall.
So now here he was, playing hide-and-seek with a potted cactus instead of a potted palm, slugging down vintage Krug instead of bubbly that had gone into the plant container last time, doing his damnedest to look casual while he searched for Natalie.
He'd done his best, while he was dressing, not to think about the fact that she probably didn't have anything to wear except that funereal-looking suit. Not that it would matter. In this high-priced assemblage of designer silk, satin, and Shalimar, his wife-his beautiful wife-would make heads turn no matter what she wore.
On the other hand, she might not show up. She might just hole up in their room. At least she hadn't left Espada; a discreet inquiry to Caitlin had assured him of that.
"Have you seen Natalie anywhere?" he'd asked, and Catie had smiled sweetly and said yes, she had, and she was sure Nat would be along any second.
Okay. But the seconds had stretched into minutes, the minutes into a quarter hour, and now ...
And now, Gage thought, while his heart tripped into overdrive, now, there she was.
No wrinkled suit for Natalie. His wife-his magnificent wife-was wearing an emerald-green dress. It started low and ended high, and for one wild minute he wanted to race across the room, tear off his jacket and wrap her inside it because no man but he had the right to see so much of her beautiful body. She was wearing a pair of heels that made the ones she'd worn at the Holcomb party look innocent, and she'd done something to her hair. It looked as if a man might have run his hands through it after a long nigh
t in bed.
Gage's fingers tightened around the champagne flute.
She wasn't just beautiful. She was hot, hot as a blowtorch. And she was his.
"Natalie," he said softly, and, as if she'd heard him, Natalie's head came up and her gaze swept the room.
Gage's body tightened and became like stone. It was as if time were running backwards. The party. The crowd. Natalie, standing alone, searching the room ...
Searching it for him.
He ditched his drink, took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the cactus. Their eyes met, and Natalie-oh, yes, Natalie smiled.
"Natalie," he said again, and started towards her, knifing through the crowd, ignoring everything and everyone, even the sound of Jonas's voice and then Travis's.
"Natalie," he whispered just as he reached her... "Senator," she said, and brushed past him. "How lovely to see you again."
Gage swung around. His wife was gazing up into the ruggedly handsome face of a man the papers often referred to as Washington's Most Eligible Bachelor. The guy had stayed at the Windsong a couple of times; Natalie had always treated him pleasantly enough but now she was looking at him as if he were Romeo and she were Juliet.
"Mrs. Baron, my dear." The senator took her hand and raised it to his lips. "How beautiful you look. And what a charming surprise this is. I never considered that you might be related to Jonas Baron."
Natalie tossed her head in a way that made Gage's blood pressure begin to climb.
"It's a lovely surprise for me, too. I didn't realize you and my father-in-law were friends." She smiled. "And please, do call me Natalie."
"I'd be delighted." The senator grinned. "So long as you call me John."
"John. Of course."
"And where is that husband of yours this evening, Natalie?"
Gage opened his mouth. I'm right here, he started to say ...
But Natalie cut him off with a girlish laugh.
"I've no idea," she said. "And I'm feeling quite neglected.
Would you believe I hadn't even had a sip of champagne?"
"No," the senator said in mock horror.
"Yes," Natalie said, with another trilling laugh. "Isn't that awful?"
"It's terrible." He took her hand and looped it through his arm. "And I intend to remedy the situation immediately, Natalie."
"Please do, John," she replied.
And, just like that, they faded into the crowd and were gone.
Gage told himself to take it easy. Natalie was an adult. She could talk with whomever she liked, go off for champagne with whomever she liked ... Flirt with whomever she liked, the Tulip boy for starters, and now a guy known as much for his philandering as for his politics?
"No," he muttered. "Hell, no. She can't." "Talkin' to yourself, boy?"
Gage blinked. Jonas had come up beside him, with Marta on his arm. She smiled pleasantly. Jonas smirked.
"Father," Gage said. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm-" "Never run after a woman, boy. Haven't you learned that by now?"
Gage's eyes narrowed. "With all due respect to you, Marta," he said, and looked straight at Jonas. "You're hardly a man to give advice about women, Father."
Jonas chuckled. "Because I've had five wives? Hell, Gage, that just gives me some perspective. Don't run after her, is my advice. Not unless you want her to have the pleasure of seein' just how bad off you are."
Marta leaned over and kissed Gage's cheek just before Jonas led her away.
"I know you don't want to believe him," she whispered, "but he's right."
Gage's jaw tightened as he stared after his father and Marta. How could Jonas be right? He'd never managed to keep a wife.
Hell, he thought miserably, who was he to criticize the old man's record? From the way things looked, he wasn't doing much of a job of keeping the only wife he'd ever had. ''Champagne, sir?"
Gage looked at the waiter, then at the tray filled with glasses.
, 'Yeah," he said, "why not?"
What could he lose if he took Jonas's advice? It was obvious that Natalie was determined to give him the cold shoulder. Well, let her. Let her flirt her tousled head off.
He drank the bubbling wine in one gulp, hurried after the waiter and traded his empty glass for a full one.
When the night ended, when the lights went out, when the house was finally silent, Natalie would be in his room.
In his bed.
And then, oh, yes, then he'd take her in his arms and show her exactly who it was she belonged to.
It was a great plan, but by midnight, he'd given it up.
His head hurt. His disposition would have sent a grizzly running. And after watching Natalie smile and flirt with nearly every man in the room, Gage had decided he just didn't give a damn. She wanted those other jerks instead of him? Fine. Let her have them. .
Who was he kidding? Gage thought bitterly as he climbed the steps to his bedroom. This marriage was finished. Tomorrow morning, first thing, he'd tell that to his brothers, and to Grant.
He'd spoken only one sentence to Natalie all evening. "Where are you sleeping tonight?" he'd said coldly after catching up to her for the one moment she'd been alone.
"Don't you mean, ~with whom?" she'd said just as coldly.
I can tell you one thing, Gage. It won't be with you."
"Fine," he'd snarled, and stalked off.
She could sleep with every man in the State of Texas he'd told himself...but he knew he didn't really mean it. There were rules, dammit, and one rule sure was that a woman didn't sleep with one man while she was still married to another-especially if the woman was his wife.
So he'd sidled over to Caitlin.
"I suppose you know Natalie and I are having problems" he'd said gruffly. '
Catie had nodded and put a gentle hand on his. "Yes. And I'm sorry about it."
That, at least, had brought a smile to his lips. "I know you are, he d said, and then, because it had to be asked, he'd cleared his throat. "Did you, ah, did you make some arrangements for tonight? Sleeping arrangements, I mean. Because Natalie and I certainly can't share the same room. So, I thought, maybe, you might put her in with you."
Catie had smiled and kissed his cheek. "Dear Gage," she'd said softly, "stop worrying. Natalie and I took care of all that, first thing."
At least he didn't have to spend the night wondering about that, Gage thought as he opened his bedroom door.
The room was dark as pitch. The light switch was right here, on the wall ...
No. His head was throbbing like a drum. The light would only make it worse. Mrs. Jonas Baron Number Three or maybe Four, had refurnished the entire house. Gone was the narrow bed of his boyhood, but the set-up was still familiar. He could find his way around the room in the dark.
Gage kicked off his shoes, stripped off his tux, peeled off his briefs and his socks and headed into the bathroom.
Natalie wanted to be free? She wanted to play games with all those jerks?
"Fine," he muttered around a mouthful of toothpaste.
"That's just fine with me."
She could have them. And they could have her. Don't chase after a woman, Jonas had said, but tonight Gage had tacked on an addendum. Don't chase after a woman who doesn't want you, especially when there were plenty who did.
Maybe it was time to start looking around.
He shut off the water, dried his hands and face and got into bed, then lay down, his hands clasped beneath his head.
He'd gone back and forth with this thing like one of those balls he used to have when he was a kid, the kind that was attached to a paddle by a rubber band. Well, all that shilly shallying was over. He wanted out. Natalie wanted out. And the sooner it happened, the better.
Gage yawned, punched the pillow, and fell asleep.
It wasn't easy, being a full-time flirt.
Natalie sighed as she climbed the stairs to her room.
She'd sipped champagne with the senator, dined with a hunky heartthrob from Hollywood, da
nced with a media mogul and oohed at the fireworks with an admiring TV anchorman. And all the time she was smiling and laughing and making an ass of herself, she'd been aware of Gage, lurking in the shadows.
Lord, her feet hurt. Well, no wonder. They, and the dress Caitlin had lent her, had both turned out to be a size too small.
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