An Officer And A Millionaire

by Maureen Child

Smiling to himself, he tore his gaze from the delectable sight of those twin nipples and said, “Margie?” “Whoops!” She shrieked, slipped lower under the water and flipped her head around to stare at him, eyes wide. “God, Hunter! Are you trying to kill me?” She slapped one hand to her bubble-covered chest and added, “And if you are, could you not do it in the bathroom? Jeez, first in the shower, now in the bath. I really don’t want to be found dead and naked.”

  He was smiling. Damn it, he usually ended up smiling around Margie. Hadn’t really thought about it before this moment, but Simon was right. She did make him happy. When she wasn’t making him crazy in bed. She was fun to talk to. Easy to be around. She’d made him realize there was more in his life to think about than his own ambitions. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, either, and he liked that. He liked her.

  Plus, the sight of her naked body turned him into a pillar of fire, burning up from the inside out. All good things.

  Hunter watched as she pushed herself higher up against the back of the tub, and his gaze dropped to her breasts, almost completely exposed by the disappearing curtain of bubbles.

  His body went even harder than it had been before, and Hunter fought down a groan. Hell, he told himself, get the talking with over-then he’d join her in that soapy water and show her a few things with the tub’s jets.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked, smoothing a wet washcloth up the length of her arm.

  “What? Huh?” He blinked and shook his head. Talk. That’s right. He’d come here to talk to her. “Fine. Yeah. Everything’s good.” Better than fine, really, now that he’d made the toughest decision of his life. “I just left Simon and-”

  “Speaking of Simon, his birthday party is going to be fabulous. I got this local band to play-they specialize in big-band music from the forties. I think Simon and his friends will love it.”

  “I’m sure they will,” he said, smiling as she went on about the party. This was the right move to make, he told himself. The two of them were good together. She loved his grandfather. She was already a part of this town.

  And while his mind was racing, he thought about Gretchen briefly and wondered why in the hell he’d ever even broached the subject of marriage to her. She would never have fit in here, never have wanted to. Springville was too small, too ordinary, too off-the-beaten-track. Gretchen would have hated this place, while Margie clearly thrived in it.

  Yeah. He was doing the right thing.

  “And the caterer is going to work with Simon’s cook, so everything will be perfect,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, and the washcloth slowed a bit as she asked the question.

  “I am.”

  He walked into the bathroom, sat down on the edge of the tub and stared down at her. The scent of jasmine was so thick in the air that he drew it into his lungs with every breath, as if she were surrounding him. Her skin was rosy-pink from the hot water, and her lush, dark red curls were wet at the ends. Her lips were full and parted as though she were inviting a kiss, and he was too damn tempted to lean in and give her just what she wanted. But first he had to tell her about the decision he’d made.

  Silently, he congratulated himself on finding the perfect solution for all of them and wondered why it had taken so long for him to consider it. Stubborn, like Simon said, he guessed. Didn’t matter, though. He saw things clearly now, and he was sure Margie would agree. Why wouldn’t she? It was a win-win for both of them.

  “Who’s Gretchen?” she asked.

  “What?” That question threw everything else out of his head.

  “I heard you and your friends talking about her when they were here,” she said with a shrug that dissipated a few more strategically placed bubbles. “One of them mentioned you and Gretchen.”

  “Yeah.” Thanks, Hula. “She’s an old girlfriend.”

  “Ah,” she said, dipping the washcloth into the water, then sliding it up her other arm slowly. “And she’s a goddess?”

  Hunter scowled and watched as the wet cloth slid along her wet skin. Yes, Gretchen was beautiful, but he’d never fantasized about being her washcloth. Besides, he hadn’t come up here to talk about Gretchen. “Hula’s got a big mouth.”

  Margie gave him a sad smile. “Which answers my question.”

  Frowning, he asked, “Why’d you wait until now to ask about her?”

  “Maybe because I didn’t want to know.”

  “So why’d you ask at all-” He stopped. “Never mind. This is female logic, right?”

  “I was just curious, that’s all,” she said.

  “Fine, but I don’t want to talk about my ex or any of your exes, either.”

  “I don’t have any,” she told him, sliding her body down into the water until her knees poked through the water’s surface and her nipples made tiny pink islands. “Exes, I mean. You’ll be my first.”

  “What?” He stared at her and shook his head, not sure whether to believe that or not. Yes, she’d been a virgin, but she’d had no ex-boyfriends at all? “How is that possible? Do you only meet blind men?”

  Margie laughed shortly. “I think that’s a compliment, so thanks.”

  “Of course it’s a compliment.” Hadn’t he complimented her before this? Apparently not. He should have. Hell, she’d stepped up and taken care of Simon when he wasn’t around. She’d been there for this town, for his grandfather, for him, he thought, remembering the night she’d held him and eased him through a nightmare. The same night they’d had sex for the first time. He’d been so intent on shutting her out, he hadn’t told her how much he appreciated everything she did.

  But he’d make up for it. He could compliment her plenty over the coming years. He’d make a mental note to do just that. He stood up, not really trusting himself to stay so close to a wet, naked Margie without reaching out a hand to touch, to stroke, to…

  “Look, Margie,” he said, scraping one hand across his face as if he could wipe away the erotic images filling his mind, “I thought we should talk about the divorce.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes looked suddenly cooler, more distant, as if she were deliberately closing herself off to him. Self-preservation? Probably.

  Well, Hunter figured he had the answer to their problems.

  “The month’s almost up,” he said as he walked back to the edge of the tub to look down at her.

  “I know.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t know things have changed.”

  Her gaze lifted to his. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, “that I’ve decided to leave the Navy when my enlistment’s up. I’m coming back home. To stay.” Wasn’t as hard to say it this time, he thought, and considered that a good sign.

  She stilled, then slowly a small smile curved her mouth. “That’s wonderful, Hunter. I’m sure Simon’s happy.”

  “Yeah, he is. But I want to talk to you about us.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, using her arms to sweep the remaining bubbles over her, covering her skin in a gleaming, nearly see-through cape.

  “I know.” He sat down again on the edge of the tub and wished she didn’t look so uneasy. “But you will in a minute. I did a little thinking, and I realized there was an easy solution to our situation.”

  “Yes,” she said, huffing out a breath that made the bubbles shudder. “The divorce.”

  “No,” he told her. “The marriage.”

  She tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s simple, really,” he said and smiled at her. “I’m staying, so I think you should, too.”

  “What? Why?” She straightened a little in the water, and the bubbles slid down her skin.

  “I’m suggesting that we stay married instead of getting divorced,” he told her and waited for her smile.

  It didn’t come.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Okay,” he admitted, wondering why she wasn’t seeing the bril
liance of this plan, “not the answer I was expecting.”

  “Well, you’re not making sense,” she said, and her voice sounded breathless. “Why would you want to stay married to me? You’ll be here, so you won’t need me to watch over Simon. You can do it yourself.”

  “This isn’t about Simon,” Hunter told her, then corrected himself, “well, it is partly, I suppose. But the main thing is, you love it here, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “You love Simon.”

  “Yes, but-”

  Hunter was warming to his theme now and gave her a smile designed to convince her to agree. “We’ve already proven we get along fine. And the sex is good. So why shouldn’t we stay married?”

  “This is crazy,” Margie said softly and stood up in the tub.

  Faced with his naked wife, Hunter had a hard time keeping his mind on the subject at hand, but he managed. “What’s crazy about it? Hell, I thought you’d be pleased.”

  She laughed and looked at him as if he were certifiably insane. Stepping out of the tub, she moved past him, grabbed a navy-blue towel off the closest rack and wrapped it around herself. “Oh yeah. Why wouldn’t I be pleased?”

  “Exactly.” He stood up too and glowered at her. Damn it, he’d come up with the perfect solution. Couldn’t she see that?

  “Hunter,” she said, taking a deep breath and holding it, “you’ve told me over and over that you don’t want a wife.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Oh!” Margie threw both hands up. “Well, that’s different, then. You changed your mind.”

  “What’re you pissed about?” He sounded incredulous, as if he didn’t understand why she wasn’t jumping up and down for joy at his businesslike offer. Couldn’t the damn woman see that this was good for both of them? “I thought you’d be happy to stay.”

  Barefoot, soaking wet and suddenly furious, Margie fisted her hands at her hips. “Why would I be happy to stay with a man who doesn’t want me?”

  “I just told you I do want you.”

  “Sure, in bed.”

  “Well, I’m a guy. Why wouldn’t I want you in bed?”

  “Marriage isn’t about sex, Hunter.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned away from him and started walking. She marched across the bedroom directly into the oversize closet. “My God, don’t you get it?”

  “Clearly not,” he said from right behind her.

  She whipped around fast to glare at him. “If I stayed married to you like this, I wouldn’t be your wife-I’d be your legal mistress.”

  “What the hell-”

  “You don’t love me. I’m just convenient.”

  Why talk about love now? She’d married him by proxy, and he hadn’t even known about it. She’d been willing to be paid to be his wife. Now she wanted love? What kind of sense did that make?

  “Well, yeah, since you are my wife, that makes you pretty damn convenient,” he argued. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Is it all men?” Margie wondered aloud, shaking her head in exasperation. “Or is it just you?”

  “Look, I didn’t come up here to fight.”

  “No, you came to tell me how lucky I was to have been allowed to stay in this house and join you in bed.” She blew out a breath, fluttered her eyelashes and said, “I’m such a lucky woman.”

  Hunter was lost. First, he was a bastard because he hadn’t wanted her. Now, he’s the bad guy because he did? None of this made sense to him. Why was she making this so hard?

  “You know,” he said as his features darkened like a thunder cloud, “I-”

  “Oh, and, I’m even luckier that the great Hunter Cabot is willing to accept plain old Margie Donohue. She’s no goddess, but he’s willing to put up with his disappointment in that area because she’s good with dogs and old people and-”

  “Are you insane?” He looked at her as though she were, which only made Margie more furious.

  “I should have known this was coming,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed the closest pair of jeans and tugged them on. “You’re an idiot, Margie. Just an idiot.”

  “For God’s sake, you’re taking this all the wrong way,” he said tightly.

  Inside the closet, Margie fumbled with her bra. “Some fantasy you turned out to be,” she mumbled, then shouted, “you are not the man I married.”

  “You are crazy!” His shout was louder than hers. “And I never asked to be anyone’s fantasy. Just like I never claimed to be a damn hero!” He threw the closet door open and glared at her. “Why bother hiding to dress? Not like I haven’t seen you naked often enough.”

  “And that gives you the right to see me whenever you want to? I don’t think so.” Margie yanked a dark green T-shirt over her head and yelped when her long, wet hair got caught briefly. “I can’t believe you want to keep me around for sex.”

  Her chest hurt, her eyes stung, but she would not cry. For heaven’s sake, the first man she’d ever slept with wanted her as a mistress? What did that say about her? His “offer” ran through her mind again. Stay married. Sex is good. God, she felt so stupid, so…furious. She’d done this to herself, too. Set herself up for misery. She might as well have walked into his open arms and begged, Please, Hunter. Break my heart. And he’d done it.

  Worse, he didn’t even realize it.

  “How could you think I’d agree to that?” she shouted.

  “It’s not like I asked you to service the fleet,” he snarled. “I just thought that we could keep our arrangement going.”

  “For how long?” she snapped. “Will there be a contract? Severance pay? Oh, will you set up a 401k for me?”

  “Margie-”

  “And what happens when you ‘change your mind’ again? Do I get thirty days to find a new place to live, or do I just get tossed out?”

  “I’m not going to change my mind again. If you’ll just calm down…” His patient tone made her want to kick him.

  All of her little dreams and fantasies were popping, just like the bubbles in her bath. They disappeared with hardly a sound, but Margie felt each one go like a crash of thunder. She’d allowed this to happen. She’d built him up in her mind over the last year, and in the last few weeks she’d done even more. She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t exist. The Hunter she wanted, the Hunter she loved would never have made such a suggestion.

  So, that let her know exactly what he thought of her. Which only meant that once again, Margie hadn’t been good enough.

  He stepped up close, cupped her face in his palms and said quietly, “At least think about it, Margie. If you do, you’ll see I’m right. You love this place. You love Simon-”

  “And I love you, Hunter.” The minute she said the words, she wanted to call them back. But it was far too late for that.

  Instead of dropping his hands and leaping away from her, though, which is totally what she’d expected, Hunter only grinned, and the damn dimple in his cheek taunted her.

  “But that makes it even better,” he said, sounding like a kid who’d just found exactly what he’d wanted under the Christmas tree. “You love me, so you should want to stay married to me.”

  She pulled his hands down from her face, and her skin felt cold without his touch. But she’d better get used to that chilly sensation, she told herself, because she could never stay with him now.

  “I can’t stay with you, Hunter,” she said, looking directly into his eyes so he would understand.

  “But you love me.”

  “Which is exactly why I want a divorce.”

  Ten

  The ballroom in the Cabot mansion was beginning to look like a party extravaganza. Decorations were already starting to go up, from banners to colorful ribbons draped along the edges of the ceiling to the linen-draped tables staggered around the room. Tomorrow, there would be multicolored balloons and fresh flowers from the Cabot gardens decorating the tables. The caterers would be in place in the kitchen, and the musicians would be tuning up in the far corner
.

  Everything was perfect.

  So why did Margie feel like crying?

  Could it be because of the gaping hole in her chest, where her heart used to be?

  Three days since Hunter had made his half-assed proposal and she’d confessed to being in love. Three long days and even longer nights. Right after their little chat, she’d moved her things to a guest room because, frankly, Margie was beyond caring what the household staff thought of the marriage that would soon be ending.

  And better she start getting used to sleeping alone than torturing herself by snuggling up beside Hunter every night. But God, she missed him. Missed his touch, his kiss, the way he turned to her in his sleep and wrapped his strong arms around her. How was she supposed to live the rest of her life without him?

  Oh, she never should have started this in the first place. If she hadn’t agreed to Simon’s plan a year ago, she wouldn’t be in this fix. By tomorrow night, she’d be leaving. She still didn’t know where she’d go. It didn’t matter to her, either. Because wherever she ended up, she’d be alone. Again. With no one to love.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” she whispered to the empty room.

  “Well,” a voice said from directly behind her, “you could stop being a damn fool.”

  “Simon!” Margie whirled around, embarrassed to be caught not only talking to herself but also throwing quite the self-pity party. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  “Not surprising. You’ve been walking through the house like a ghost these last few days.”

  What could she say to that? He was absolutely right.

  Simon’s gaze was kind, but determined. Strange, she’d never noticed just how much he and his grandson had in common.

  “Stay, Margie. Stop this foolishness and stay.”

  “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head as she looked into Simon’s eyes. “I can’t stay knowing he doesn’t love me.”

  “Who says he doesn’t?”

  Margie laughed ruefully. “He does.”

  Simon frowned and brushed that information aside. “He wouldn’t be the first man who needed a woman to tell him what he was feeling.”

  “If only it were that easy.”