“Get undressed, Caroline,” he demanded softly, unbuttoning his shirt.
Her hands trembled with nervous anticipation as she wordlessly did as he had instructed, then folded down the covers of the bed and slipped into it, her heart now thudding so hard that she thought it would burst. She reached to draw the blankets up around her, but Nick forestalled her as, naked, he got into bed beside her, the plump mattress settling with his weight so that she slid unwittingly into his arms.
“No, don’t cover yourself against me. I want to see you—all of you—while I make love to you, baby,” he murmured before his mouth took hers, his tongue plunging deep, shattering her senses and compelling her surrender.
Whimpering with the desire that flamed inside her, she opened her lips pliantly and willingly to his invasion, silently offering herself up to him. Her hands tightened into fists in his thick, dark hair as she clutched him to her, wanting and needing him, loving him with all her heart. Somehow, she would make him understand that, Caroline reflected dimly in some far corner of her mind—even if she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words aloud to him.
She didn’t know the same thought filled Nick’s own head as he kissed and caressed her fervently, as though by doing so, he could bind her to him forever.
“Your skin is so soft and delicate and pale. I love the way it feels beneath my palms,” he told her as he ran his hands possessively over her body, touching, exploring, arousing her wildly. “It’s mine—every inch of it. You know that, don’t you, Caro?”
“Yes, Nick…” she whispered, gladdened and thrilled by his covetousness.
He cupped her breasts, pressed them high for his mouth and teeth and tongue, teasing and torturing her endlessly. Ripples of delight coursed through her entire, pulsating body as he stimulated her nipples until they were taut and flushed, twin peaks beneath his lips and hands. And, still, he lingered there, licking and sucking greedily.
Caroline felt hot and feverish, as dazed as though she had been beset by delirium. She was scarcely aware of the soft moans that emanated from her throat, of the way in which her own hands roamed restlessly over Nick’s own body, tracing the hard curve of the muscles that bunched and quivered sinuously beneath her palms. She kneaded his back, his buttocks, pressed her mouth to his throat and chest. His sweat-sheened flesh tasted of salt and smelled of musk and of the Player’s cigarettes he smoked; upon his breath warm against her skin was the scent of the vodka he drank—all masculine things that incited and intoxicated her.
She could feel his hard, rampant sex rubbing against her, a portent, a promise, as he nudged her thighs apart, spreading them wide for his hand that sought the soft, downy folds of her, stroking and taunting until she was burning and aching for him inside her. But he ignored her pleading mewls, the way she arched and strained against him, seeking assuagement.
“Nick, please…” she implored.
“Please, what?” he muttered huskily, kissing her mouth, her breasts, as he slipped his fingers deep inside her, only to withdraw them, spreading quicksilver heat, before he repeated the movement languorously, tantalizingly. “If there’s something you want, baby, then take it.”
Caroline was shocked by her own boldness and aggressiveness, but such was the state of her arousal by then that she didn’t care. She pushed him onto his back and impaled herself upon him, her breath catching raggedly in her throat as she felt his potent, throbbing sex slide into her, filling her deeply and fully. His hands closed tightly on her hips. His dark eyes gleamed with triumph and satisfaction as he began to rock her against him, seeming to know instinctively just how to hold her so that each thrust was sheer torment to her, driving her wild.
She could feel the tide of sensation building inside her unbearably. Then, suddenly, it crested and broke, wave after wave of pleasure so intense that it took her breath away. She cried out, and crushing her to him, Nick abruptly rolled her over, plunging into her until his own release came just as violently, leaving him panting harshly atop her.
Afterward, he kissed her lightly on the lips, then withdrew, pulling her against him, cradling her against his chest. With one hand, he reached into the night table, shook a cigarette out from the pack of Player’s inside, and lit up, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. He stroked Caroline’s hair idly, wondering what she was thinking.
“Are you sorry I brought you in here?” he finally asked quietly.
“No.” Her response was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it—but he did, and his heart leaped with hope. “Are you—are you really going to keep me in here, Nick?”
“Yes.” He thought she might protest then, but she didn’t. Nor did she when, after taking a last drag from his cigarette and crushing it in the ashtray, he began to kiss and caress her anew, wanting her again.
It was appropriate but ironic, Caroline thought, that their formal interview with the INS had been scheduled today, on April Fool’s Day. For she was surely a fool to have fallen in love with her husband and to have succumbed to him utterly. If she hadn’t been pregnant before, she certainly was now—or so the test kit she had bought at the grocery store earlier this week had informed her this morning. She didn’t regret the baby; she wanted it with all her heart. But she did despair that despite everything, Nick had yet to speak any word of love to her.
Such was the state of her inner turmoil that Caroline was totally oblivious of the admiring glances she received from several of the male employees of the INS as she and Nick made their way through the building. Her husband, however, was not—and he scowled warningly at every man who looked at her, making it clear that she was taken.
Mr. Howard and Mr. Sheffield having plainly proved easily deceived, Nick’s case had been assigned to a higher-up, Mrs. Penworthy. She was a large, formidable-looking woman with her bifocals and steel-gray hair and eyes. She did not appear as though anything escaped her notice or that she would be fooled by anyone.
When Caroline and Nick entered her office, Mrs. Penworthy glanced up at them sharply, then, in tones of grand hauteur that would have rivaled Kate Fortune on her best day, instructed them to take a seat. The newlyweds sat—Nick’s expression defiant, Caroline’s nervous. Mrs. Penworthy opened a thick file folder and gazed down at it slowly.
“I am not going to waste time by asking the two of you the same questions you were previously asked by Mr. Howard and Mr. Sheffield,” she stated coolly. “You appear to have satisfied them as to the validity of your marriage. However, you are present here today because since that time, the INS has received as-yet-unconfirmed reports that the two of you did, in fact, wed solely so Dr. Valkov could avoid being deported from the United States back to Russia. That his continued presence in this country was, in fact, so crucial to the Fortune Cosmetics company that he was paid a bonus to enter into this bogus marriage. Is that true?”
“No,” Nick lied bluntly.
“Then, Dr. Valkov, perhaps you will be good enough to explain why, on your wedding day, Mrs. Valkov’s father, Mr. Jacob Fortune, transferred the sum of half a million dollars into your personal bank account—a fact uncovered by the INS during its investigation of this affair.”
“If you discovered that, then you should also have learned that shortly afterward, I used that sum to establish a trust fund for my and Caroline’s children, Mrs. Penworthy. The money was a gift for that purpose,” Nick announced impassively—however untruthfully.
Hearing this, Caroline was unable to stifle a small, startled gasp. Nick hadn’t taken the six-figure bonus for himself? He hadn’t wanted any money for marrying her! Good heavens! she thought, the full import of his words abruptly dawning on her. Children! he had said. Their children! Mrs. Penworthy’s glance seemed to pierce right through her.
“You seem surprised, Mrs. Valkov,” the INS agent observed dryly.
“I—I am, a little,” Caroline confessed anxiously. “I…ah…didn’t realize until now just how generous Daddy had been. Nick handles all our—our finances.”
“Mrs. Penworth
y, let’s forget the song-and-dance routine and cut to the chase here,” Nick insisted, leaning forward in his chair. “These reports you’ve received are an attempt, we believe, by some rival cosmetics firm to cause trouble at Fortune Cosmetics. You’ve undoubtedly heard about the death of Caroline’s grandmother, Kate, in a tragic plane crash in South America—and I, for one, believe that death to have been caused by someone having sabotaged the corporate jet. It should be obvious to you that Caroline and I are legitimately wed—and very happily so, I might add.”
“Oh, please, Mrs. Penworthy!” Caroline cried softly when the INS agent appeared to be unmoved by Nick’s declaration. “I—I love my husband! Really, I do! And we’re—we’re going to have a baby!” She blurted out all this without thinking, driven by a terrible sense of desperation. Then, realizing what she had said, she flushed and bit her lower lip, wondering what Nick thought and wholly unable to meet his eyes in that moment.
But much to her surprise and sheer joy, he reached over and took her hand in his. “And I love my wife with all my heart, and I’m so proud and pleased about the baby that I’m going to be passing out cigars for months! If it’s a girl, we’re planning to name her Katherine Fortune Valkov.”
“And if it’s a boy?” Mrs. Penworthy inquired, glancing at Caroline for an answer.
“Alexander—Sasha—after Nick’s father.”
For the first time since the interview had started, the INS agent’s forbidding expression softened. “Well, I don’t think there’s any more I have to ask either of you, then. A body would have to be blind not to see how much the two of you really do love each other. Please accept my apologies on behalf of the INS for troubling you. You have both satisfied me as to the validity of your marriage—and convinced me, as well, that some unknown plot against Fortune Cosmetics has been at the root of this all along. The INS shan’t be bothering you again.”
Outside the INS building, Nick assisted Caroline into the Mercedes-Benz, then slid into the seat beside her, inserting the key into the ignition. But instead of starting the engine, he turned to her soberly, his dark eyes searching and filled with a strange, hopeful light.
“Caroline, did you really mean what you said in there? About loving me?”
“Yes,” she confessed softly. “I do love you—and I’m—I’m sorry if it makes you angry, Nick, but it’s really true that we’re—that we’re going to have a baby.”
“I know. I wasn’t quite sure until this morning, but, sweetheart, even if I weren’t a chemist, I could read the results of a test kit as well as the next man. I guess you didn’t think about that when you threw it away in the trash. And I’m so happy about the baby.” Leaning over, he laid his hand gently upon her belly. “I hope it’s only the first of many—because we aren’t going to be divorced, Caroline. I love you, too, and I want very much to stay your husband.”
“Oh, Nick…” Her voice trailed away as he kissed her deeply, passionately.
Finally, after a long moment, stroking her hair and cradling her tenderly against his chest, he asked huskily, teasingly, “So what do you think, Mrs. Valkov? Do I get to keep my position as your husband or not?”
She smiled up at him lovingly, her heart in her eyes. “Oh, yes, Dr. Valkov. You are definitely hired—permanently!”
HIRED HUSBAND
Copyright © 1996 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7315-7
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Rebecca Brandewyne for her contribution to the Fortune’s Children series.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Hired Husband Page 17