He advanced closer and as if she sensed him, she twisted out of the chair. Standing, she leaned against the table.
“What do you want, Michael?”
To touch her. He knew his touch would bind her to him.
But uneasiness was in her eyes and she pressed closer against the table. “Are you hungry?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not after two baskets of pretzels while watching the replay of a couple of hockey games. What about you?”
She shook her head and blindly reached back to grab her mug. “I’m cold.”
I could warm you. It’s what we both need.
Something in his gut told him pretty words wouldn’t work, though. He came a bit closer, enough to see her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip on the mug.
He took another stride and she sidestepped toward the sink. She put her mug on the counter and quickly opened the refrigerator. He couldn’t see her face anymore as she buried it among milk and juice and cartons of yogurt.
“I thought you were cold,” he said. She was showing her vulnerable neck again, and the sight drew him. He walked quietly up behind her.
She straightened, whirled, slammed the refrigerator door shut. “You scared me!”
“Why?” he asked. His heart was pumping like crazy, bam bam bam against his chest. He didn’t want to be reassuring or playful anymore. He wanted to be inside her. She couldn’t get away then.
“I…I didn’t see you there.” She licked her bottom lip.
His groin tightened. “I’m trying to be civilized about this, Beth.”
She blinked, licked her lip again.
He thought about her mouth. His tongue inside it. That other part of him in that other part of her. Hot and wet there, too.
If he touched her, he could bind her to him.
His hands found her fragile shoulders. His mouth found her mouth. She kissed him as though she found it hard to be civilized, too.
He broke away, breathing hard. Her eyes, still shadowed, had regained that turquoise light that told him she felt desire. He ran his hands down her arms. Her fingers gathered easily into his. She was still too thin.
He held her hands against his chest. “Feel that,” he said over the roaring of his pulse in his ears. Did she know he’d protect her from anything, anyone…except him?
She flattened her palms against his chest. She rose on tiptoe. Her hot mouth opened over his.
Civilization fell away.
His fingers fumbled at the waistband of her jeans. He unzipped them, shoved his hand inside her panties, found her heat as his tongue explored her mouth. She arched against him, moaning.
Touching her, he could bind her to him.
With his free hand he pushed up her sweater. The front clasp of her bra was stubborn, so he tore at it with his hand. Then her nipple was against his palm, hot, puckering against his skin as if it wanted a kiss, too.
Somebody moaned. It fueled him, fired his blood, made him push down her jeans and panties while she worked at his snap. Too slow, so he brushed her hands away and released his hard arousal. He found a condom in his pocket, rolled it on, then lifted her onto him, pushing into her while his body screamed in delight and his instincts shouted that she could no longer pretend she wasn’t his forever.
After they climaxed, he carried her to his bedroom. Sated, satisfied that he had taken care of all the details, he arranged her over his body. His palm stroked her hair, letting it tickle his skin.
His body jerked once and he startled awake from that falling-down-the-stairs dream he often experienced right before deep sleep. Beth moved off his chest to lie flat on her back.
Her voice was quiet, determined, a little husky. “Mischa and I will be moving out tomorrow.”
Michael’s insides tumbled and fell, that startling dream all over again.
Beth held her breath as Michael leaned aside to turn on the bedside light. His face was tense, hard, the skin tight around his eyes. “What?” he said.
“We’re moving out tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “I touched you,” he said, as if that meant she couldn’t leave.
She didn’t disagree. Of course he’d touched her. Attraction, desire, had never been a problem between them. She shouldn’t have made love to him tonight, but he’d come to her, heat in his eyes, and she’d wanted just one last taste of what he could give her.
“You and Mischa are staying here. We’re staying married.”
Michael was used to getting his way. That was certain. But Beth had to be as strong as he was now. She got out of bed and tried not to blush as she looked for something to put on over her nakedness. Michael’s robe was on the hook in the bathroom. She wrapped it around her and then forced herself to confront him again.
“You don’t want us. This entire marriage was created to release you from your responsibilities.”
He waved a hand. “That was before.”
Could it be possible he loved her? “Before what?”
“You and Mischa need what I can give you. Security. Josie and Grandfather. You want that.”
“But you don’t.”
He shrugged, the light playing over his wide shoulders. “We’ll stay married.”
Beth wanted to scream in frustration. “Michael, didn’t anybody ever tell you two watermelons can’t be held under one arm?”
Michael groaned. “Not that. I’m tired. I’m edgy. Don’t make me think too hard, too.”
“It means you can’t have it both ways. You can’t want to shirk responsibility and then take it on at the same time.”
He sat up quickly. “Shirk responsibility? Is that what you think I’m doing with Wentworth Oil Works?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Beth moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
Michael slammed a pillow with his fist. “You don’t know.”
She knew she wanted to loosen his angry fist. To open his. hand and kiss the feelings away. “Tell me, Michael.”
“Jack died.”
She swallowed at the tired note in his voice. “I know.”
He released a short laugh. “Of course you do. We wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t have done any of this if Jack hadn’t died.”
A moment of silence passed and then Michael cleared his throat. “I never wanted to work at the oil company. Never. But Jack claimed it would be a good experience. Promised he’d back me when I was ready to get out.”
“You didn’t do it for your grandfather?”
He sighed. “Because of him, too. Grandfather and Jack both convinced me I should give it a shot”
That was Michael. Give the business a shot because someone needed to. Stay married to the woman who appeared to need that, too.
“But now?”
He stared at her. “Why shouldn’t I walk away? Why not? Josie did. Jack’s gone. And when he died, I realized he wasn’t going to get me out of it like he promised.”
“You want the ranch with Elijah.”
“And Grandfather, whether he’s ready to admit it or not, needs Wentworth Oil under his control.”
“So we’re back to need again. Michael doing what everybody needs.”
“You’ve got that exactly wrong. I’m doing what I want to do for once. When Jack died, I realized that it was time to live my life.”
“While still finding a way to help your grandfather,” she reminded him.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Hell, you make me sound like a Boy Scout. You should talk to Elijah. He’ll tell you the kind of badges I’ve earned.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
He made an expansive gesture with one hand. “I’m Freemont Springs’s favorite bachelor. Can’t you guess?”
Beth flinched. Thinking about Michael with other women hurt. But she went for nonchalant. “So, you’ve made the rounds,” she said.
Michael scrubbed his face with his hand. “Not in the way you’re thinking, Beth. We Boy Scouts aren’t stupid. I’ve just never committed to anyone before. Never wa
nted to be tied down.”
Beth’s heart started pounding fast and furious. So, why did he want to stay married to her? What was different about now? Did he love her? Would he say it? She swallowed to ease her dry throat. “Michael—”
“But now things are different.” He stared down at his hands, fisted in the bedspread. “There’s Sabrina. There’s you.”
Beth swallowed again. “Sabrina? I thought you didn’t know where she was.”
He looked up. “We don’t. That’s it exactly. And I’m not letting you be her all over again.”
“I don’t understand.” Beth rubbed her forehead.
“I’m not going to do to you what Jack did to Sabrina,” Michael said. “He left his child and a woman who cared for him. That isn’t going to happen again.”
Beth’s voice came out faintly. “Mischa’s not yours.”
Michael shook his head. “I laid claim to him today. He has my name.”
Beth had to smile a bit. “Your first name.”
Michael shrugged. “I’ll adopt him.”
He had so many answers. Like all the other times, Michael’s confidence nearly bowled her over.,
“And—” Beth reached deep inside herself to find her courage “—what about love?”
Michael’s voice was neutral. “What about it?”
Beth felt her face go hot. “You don’t…”
“I don’t believe in it.”
“No?” Beth drew her hands inside the long sleeves of Michael’s robe. Her fingernails bit into her palms.
“You heard what Elijah called me. A playboy. To be honest, Beth, I’ve enjoyed relationships with women for a long time now. If there was such a thing as love, wouldn’t I know about it?”
The question was all Michael again. Reasonable. Confident. Hard to disagree with. “But—”
“Yeah, I heard you tell Grandfather you loved me. You can call what you feel for me whatever you like.”
“But I do lo—”
“You don’t have to say it,” he said. “It’s not what I want from you.”
And that was why she had to go. She scooted away from him and stood up. “But don’t you understand, Michael?” she said quietly. “That’s all I have to offer.”
Alice’s axioms kept running through Beth’s head while she lay under the scratchy sheet and thin blankets at the Freemont Springs Sleep-Easy Motel.
To avoid smoke, don’t fall in the fire. Too late for that to do any good. Desire for Michael had already burned her.
You can’t unscramble eggs. Absolutely right. The desire had grown into love that she couldn’t wish away.
Love, pain and money can’t be kept secret. They soon betray themselves. That was where she’d gone wrong. When she’d told Joseph Wentworth she was in love with Michael, she’d lost him.
She rubbed her eyes and wished she could sleep instead of analyze. But she kept reliving that moment when she’d confessed her love. Michael had flinched, tensed, and now she knew that was when he decided they’d remain married.
It should have been all that she wanted. Maybe months ago she would have settled for it.
Maybe she should settle for it now.
She slipped out of the squeaky bed to peer through the metal rails of the motel-issue crib. Mischa slept, his fists by his cheeks, his mouth moving as he dreamed of suckling her breast.
He’d have other dreams. Of Little League baseball. Of rebuilding car engines. Boy stuff she didn’t know about.
By leaving Michael was she denying Mischa something he needed? Something he deserved?
She thought of her own parents. Of the person— her mother? her father?—whose hands had wrapped her in a blanket so ragged that no one had bothered saving it. Of those hands placing her in a box on the doorstep of a hospital in downtown Los Angeles.
How lonely had that person been?
How lonely would she be without Michael?
The metal crib rail bit into her hand. Beth released it, stretched out her fingers, and reached into the crib for her baby. Without waking, Mischa settled against her chest. She climbed back into the bed and pulled the covers over them.
Michael didn’t love her. Michael didn’t believe in love.
Was that what had made it so easy for those nameless hands to abandon her? Because there was no such thing as love?
Mischa wiggled against her in his sleep. His warm heaviness over her heart made a tender, powerful pain swell from her chest. Love. It inflated her spirit like helium to a shriveled balloon.
Beth rubbed her damp cheek against Mischa’s warm head. Whoever had left her at the Masterson Hospital had been wrong. Michael was wrong. Love existed. Love was worth holding out for.
Walking away from Michael had been the right thing to do. She and Mischa would find a way to make it on their own. She’d tear up that stupid pre-nuptial agreement and take nothing from Michael. Not when the only thing she wanted was his love.
The silence of the house was like the quiet after an explosion. Michael had been shocked and angry to find out she’d gone to bed with him tonight while her bags were in the closet, packed and ready to go. It had taken her less than fifteen minutes to leave him.
She didn’t say where she was going. He’d been too ticked to ask. Now he sat on the couch in the den, listening to the darkness.
The phone rang. He lunged for the receiver on the side table. “Beth?”
“She go out dancing without you?”
Elijah.
“What do you want?” Michael asked wearily.
“Couple things. First, is our partnership off?”
Elijah knew it would take more than his plain speaking to break a friendship decades old. “You were right,” Michael forced himself to say.
Elijah chuckled. “And I’m so glad I’m taping this conversation. But really, what’s happened?”
“She’s gone.” Michael’s gut clenched as he said the words.
“Well, you and I both know you’re an ugly SOB, but why did she say she left?”
Because I don’t love her back. He couldn’t say the words out loud. “You ever been…in love, Elijah?”
“You’ve known me since I was seven years old, man. Have you forgotten Andrea Edwards?”
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was eighth grade.”
“And I was in love with her.” Elijah’s voice sounded sincere.
“I’ve never been.”
“Hell, I know that. I’ve known you for twenty years, too.”
“You believe in it, then.”
“Yeah,” Elijah said quietly.
Michael gritted his teeth. “I want to stay married to Beth. Isn’t that enough? I told her I didn’t want her to be another Sabrina.”
“Trying to do better than big brother Jack?”
Anger burned Michael’s gut. “It’s not like that!”
“Then you should be. able to let go of her.”
Some other emotion gnawed at his insides. “You believe in love,” Michael said again, just to make sure. “Why don’t I?”
Elijah’s sigh whooshed over the phone line. “I don’t know, pal. Maybe because you never saw your parents together. Maybe because you never found a good woman.”
“There have been lots of good women.”
“The right one, then. Someone you could trust.”
“Trust to do what? Or not to do what?”
“Geez, you’re making this hard!” Elijah complained. “Someone you can trust who wants Michael, not Michael Wentworth, maybe. Or—” Elijah’s voice lightened “—someone you can trust not to laugh at your stupid questions.”
Michael sighed. “You said you called for a couple of reasons. What’s the other one?”
“Joseph.”
Michael’s gut clenched again. “What? Something’s happened to the old man?”
“No, no. I just got an interesting phone call from him.”
Michael let out his air through his teeth. “Yeah?”
“Did
Beth tell you he tried to bribe her today?”
“What?”
“Yep,” Elijah said. “Offered her five hundred thousand bucks on top of what you were giving her to tell him the truth about the marriage.”
Michael dropped his head back against the couch and groaned. “Oh, great. How come Joseph told you about it?”
“He was trying to pump me, too. He’d gotten nothing from Beth this morning.”
Michael sighed.
“Looks like you lost it all, pal,” Elijah said.
“Don’t you know how to make a guy feel good?” Michael said drily. “But what makes you say that?”
“Don’t you think Beth will go running to him now?” There was a sly note to Elijah’s voice. “Now that she doesn’t have a marriage, she might as well get the money.”
11
Michael knew there were worse things than becoming a recluse in a tiny, dingy ranch house in the middle of nowhere, but offhand he couldn’t think of one. So three days after Beth left with Mischa, and the afternoon he received in the mail her copy of the prenuptial agreement torn into pieces, Michael decided to resume his former life.
He called Elijah. They’d meet at the Route 3 Club that night. It was Valentine’s Eve instead of New Year’s Eve, but this date was just as good as the other, better maybe, when it came to a playboy reclaiming the field.
Michael pulled on new jeans, a new shirt, a new pair of boots. Spit shines and knife creases weren’t exactly his style, but everything else in his closet at the ranch house smelled like Beth’s fresh scent.
It didn’t help that he was still using her shampoo.
But he’d forget all that tonight.
Slap. His palm hit Elijah’s with a resounding smack as they shook hands in greeting around 8 p.m. Club life didn’t normally start hopping until later, but Michael had wanted to escape the silent house as early as possible.
“We’re gonna have fun tonight,” he said, forcing a grin. “Our troubles are goin’ bye-bye.”
Elijah looked skeptical. “Whatever you say, pal.” He threw an arm in the direction of the smoky pool tables. “We have a booth over there.”
Leave it to Elijah to know what a friend needed. Not only did Elijah have a booth, but on the simulated leather seats sat two beautiful women that Michael didn’t know. One looked like jailbait, but he soon found out she was just a squeak over twenty-one and the little sister of an old schoolmate. When the band’s lead singer stepped up to the mike, Michael danced with her first.
The Millionaire and the Pregnant Pauper Page 12