Husband–Or Enemy? (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 4)

by Caroline Cross

  As Riley had made crystal clear, first when he’d bolted after they made love and then again when he’d proposed, this wasn’t a love match. And that made it essential that she behave with dignity and restraint, making it clear she expected to be treated as an equal partner.

  Even if it wasn’t going to be easy. Not, she thought, sneaking a peek at him, when something as innocent as the sight of his profile—lean, chiseled, the cheek creased with a faint groove that she knew hid a devastating dimple—made her pulse pick up.

  “…and by the power vested in me by the state of Arizona, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge’s announcement grabbed her attention. She shifted her gaze to him, just in time to see him smile indulgently at Riley. “Young man, you may kiss the bride.”

  Her lips parted in instinctive protest. And then she caught herself. Given that they were married now, she might as well get this over with. The sooner she proved she could handle herself, the better she’d feel.

  Forcing a smile, she turned toward her new husband, standing her ground as he took a step closer, put his arms around her waist and settled his palms against the small of her back. She took a fortifying breath and raised her chin, determined to meet him halfway as his mouth claimed her own.

  A major miscalculation.

  She had just enough time for that single thought as delight shuddered through her. And then her mind went blank, instantly and completely overwhelmed by pleasure, while her body responded as if she and Riley had never been apart.

  Never had a kiss felt so right. Except for the last time…

  A shiver of pure need raced down her spine as the delicious scent that was exclusively his teased her senses. As if of its own volition, one of her hands crept from his shoulder to the bare skin of his neck to greedily explore the satiny patch of skin behind his ear, while the other tangled itself in the cool silk of his hair. The slight pressure of his chest against her breasts was too much and not enough all at once.

  His mouth was so hot, so right. She tried to remember, as he traced a circle on her spine with one lazy finger, why she shouldn’t slide her hands inside his coat. She knew what she’d find. For all that he looked so sleek and elegant in his pricey clothes, beneath them he was lean, muscular and bronzed. The ultimate hardbody. In more ways than one…

  Without warning, Riley lifted his head.

  Instantly bereft, a protest trembling on her throbbing lips, Angelica snapped her eyes open—and found herself looking straight into his.

  The expression in those silvery depths was dark and intent. “You okay?”

  She wasn’t, of course. Because even as she forced herself to take a much needed breath and murmur “Yes,” dismay threatened to overwhelm her.

  She felt naked, no great surprise since their kiss had stripped all pretense away and she knew she’d been kidding herself. Riley’s allure was as powerful as ever, while her ability to resist him was…nonexistent. Even now, with her brain at least partially functioning, there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to drag him off somewhere private and make love.

  Yet she also knew there was no way she could give her body without also committing her heart.

  And that she wouldn’t do.

  “This is your house?” Angelica said as Riley turned into his circular driveway.

  “Yeah.” He stopped the car before the portico and turned off the engine.

  “But…it’s huge.”

  With a slight shock, he realized she’d never been here before. There’d been no question of it three months ago, of course. And then the past few days, Angelica had seemed so preoccupied with the move—and so insistent on keeping a certain distance between them—it just hadn’t come up.

  Now, he tried to consider the place he called home through her eyes. A sprawling single-story contemporary on an acre lot, with a three-car garage, a soaring roof line and lots of windows, he supposed it did appear pretty substantial. Particularly when compared to her tiny apartment. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

  “You live here all by yourself?”

  He couldn’t keep a trace of irony out of his voice. “Not anymore.”

  She turned to stare at him and he realized he’d hit a nerve, even if she did sound oh-so-reasonable when she spoke. “Look. If you’re having second thoughts about this, just say so. There’s no law that says we have to live together. Not yet, anyway. We could always wait until the baby’s born. So if you want to make other arrangements—”

  “You’re kidding, right?” He told himself firmly she had to be. “Wouldn’t that sort of defeat the whole purpose of getting married? And didn’t we agree this was the right thing to do for our kid?”

  Was it his imagination, or did her shoulders sag a little? “Yes. Yes, we did.” She looked away. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  That made two of them. He reminded himself of the need to be patient, never one of his stronger attributes. “Do you want to go in or not?”

  “Yes. Of course.” With an unconvincing smile, she unlatched her seat belt and reached for the door handle.

  Frowning, he followed suit, wondering as he shut his door what her problem was. After all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a few reservations about this marriage himself. He’d just been so focused on convincing her to go through with it, he hadn’t devoted any time to thinking about what happened afterward. What happened now.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out both of them were going to have to make some adjustments, however. Hell, he’d lived alone ever since his twenty-first birthday and he was accustomed to his freedom, to coming and going as he pleased. What’s more, he knew he had a tendency to be moody, and that he required a certain amount of time to himself. Nor did he doubt that Angelica had her own quirks and idiosyncrasies.

  So he didn’t expect this to be easy. But then again, things could be worse. Based on that burn-up-the-rafters kiss they’d shared after the wedding ceremony, it was clear the attraction between them was as hot as ever. Shotgun marriage or not, he was definitely looking forward to their wedding night.

  And not just for the pleasure of the experience, either. But because for some reason the one other time they’d spent together had taken on an unwarranted significance in his mind and he was eager to dispel it. Intellectually, he knew without a doubt that the only connection they’d shared had been physical. So why, whenever he let himself think about that night, was an overwhelming sense of belonging the first thing that came to mind?

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and hitched his shoulders impatiently, damned if he knew the answer. But he was more than ready to prove that his memory was playing tricks on him. If he also enjoyed himself in the process, well then, so much the better.

  He retrieved Angelica’s overnight bag from the trunk and headed toward the house, where she stood by one of the oversize ornamental planters that flanked the front door.

  She touched a finger to a lush pink blossom. “I didn’t know you had a green thumb.”

  He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I don’t. I have a service that takes care of the yard and pool for me.” Like most southern Arizona homes, his didn’t have a lawn, which couldn’t survive the torrid summers. Instead, artfully placed amidst sections of ornamental rock were a variety of palms, shrubs and potted flowers, all of which required regular care to flourish.

  “Oh.”

  He took a step back, taking advantage of the moment to rest his hand on the small of her back. “After you.”

  A faint tremor went through her and she promptly stepped into the house—and away from him.

  He followed, puzzled and a little annoyed by her skittishness. He set down her bag. Tossing his keys into a crystal bowl that sat on the console table in the foyer, he glanced over at her, his good humor restored as her clear green eyes widened slightly as she took a look around.

  Like the rest of the house, the foyer walls were painted a light taupe and trimmed in white. Thick Oriental runners in cream, rose
and pale green covered the white marble tile in the entry and hall. To the right was the dining room, where silver and gray upholstered chairs surrounded an oval glass table top supported by a granite pedestal. Down a step to the left was the living room, where a curving ice-green sofa sat intimately before the marble fireplace in a room intended to be both inviting and restful.

  “Wow,” Angelica said a little breathlessly. “This is really lovely. Did you have a professional decorator?”

  “No. I did it myself.” At her look of surprise, he couldn’t resist a chiding sound. “What? You think chrome and smoked glass are more my style?”

  “More like mirrors on the ceiling,” she murmured.

  He couldn’t resist. “Oh, I had those taken out last week. Except,” he added silkily, “for the one in my bedroom. Our bedroom, now.”

  Her gaze flew to his face. He wanted to smile at her dismayed expression—until she bit her lower lip. Suddenly he found himself wondering what would happen if he gave in to temptation, leaned forward and claimed her full, soft mouth.

  As if someone had flipped a switch, awareness stretched between them, electrifying the air in the foyer like a burst of summer lightning.

  Angelica was the first to look away. “If you don’t mind, I could really use a glass of water.”

  He swallowed, chagrined to find his own throat was a little dry. “Yeah. That’s not a bad idea. Follow me.” He led the way down the hall to the family room and kitchen.

  Shrugging out of his sport coat, he tossed it over one of the tall swivel stools that flanked the far side of the cooking island and retrieved a pair of glasses from the cupboard. He set about filling them with ice and water, all the while keeping an eye on Angelica as she wandered around the room, touching the burgundy throw draped over the back of the couch, checking out the titles in the bookcase that stretched along one wall.

  With a slight grimace, he acknowledged that just looking at her made him feel hot. Oh, she wasn’t a classic beauty by any means—her mouth was too full, her nose too pert. But her hair, all thick and glossy as it fell in a silvery-brown sheet of satin past her shoulders, was a definite turn-on. So was the way her soft yellow suit skimmed her slim body, for all that the garment was rather dated.

  He wondered suddenly what she had on under it. A slip? Or just her bra, panties and a pair of thigh-high nylons, the way she had the last time they’d been together?

  At the memory, his body tightened painfully. Maybe they shouldn’t wait until tonight to enjoy their wedding night, he decided as he walked over to join her. After all, there was no rule that said you had to wait for the sun to go down to enjoy yourself. He handed her one of the glasses of water.

  “Thanks.” She took a sip, then looked out the sliding glass doors, where beams of sunlight glinted off the crystal-blue water of the pool. “I always knew people lived like this,” she said quietly. “I just never expected to be one of them.”

  There was a note of uncertainty in her voice. It made him feel strangely protective, and he moved a step closer. “You’ll get used to it. This is your home now and I want you to feel comfortable. Just give it some time.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She took another swallow from her glass. A bead of water clung to the corner of her mouth. She licked it off with a flick of her tongue that he felt squarely in his solar plexus.

  “I am.” He took the glass from her hand and reached past her to set it on the bookcase with his own. When he straightened, only inches separated them. “Trust me.”

  “Riley—”

  “Hmm?” He lowered his head only to encounter empty space as she stepped sideways out of his reach.

  “Don’t.”

  He straightened. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t come on to me.”

  He made no effort to hide his surprise. “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “Now that explains a heck of lot.”

  She flushed. “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t—” She hugged her arms to herself and took a deep breath. “I don’t think we should…sleep together.”

  He struggled to keep the dismay off his face. “You’re kidding, right?” She had to be.

  “I wouldn’t kid about something so serious.”

  That was beginning to sink in. “Yeah, but we’re married.”

  “I know. Trust me, I know. But like I said before, this is all happening so fast. In a lot of ways, we’re still strangers. I need a chance to get to know you better before we’re…intimate.”

  He had just enough presence of mind to keep from pointing out that hadn’t stopped her the last time. Instead, telling himself he wasn’t completely without some charm—and that this was definitely the time to time to employ it—he gently wrapped a silky strand of her hair around his finger and tipped her face up to his. “I agree we need to get better acquainted. But we already know we’re physically compatible. Why not use it to our advantage?”

  She tugged her hair free of his hold and backed away, raising her hands as if to ward him off. “No.”

  It was an effort, but he stayed where he was. “At least think about what you’ll be missing.” I sure am.

  Those limpid green eyes met his without flinching. “I have. And I still think we should wait.”

  She really meant it. A jumble of emotions swirled through him. Need. Disappointment. Frustration.

  For half a second he almost said to hell with it and hauled her into his arms. Maybe she’d have a change of heart if he reminded her what she was giving up.

  And if she didn’t?

  He abruptly reached past her, grabbed his glass of water, brought it to his lips and drank.

  The way things had been going, he should have expected this. Ever since the night they’d spent together his life had been unraveling. This was just more of the same.

  He stood accused of murder. He was going to be a father. And now he’d somehow managed to marry the one woman in Pueblo County between eighteen and thirty who didn’t want to sleep with him.

  And the icing on the cake? She was the only one he wanted. Not that he expected it to always be that way. But, for the moment…

  There had to be a way. He just needed some time to decide what it was.

  He polished off the water, lowered the glass and dredged up a careless smile. “If that’s what you want… All right.”

  “Really?” She let out her breath. “You understand?”

  He didn’t understand jack at this point, but he would. “Sure.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Good” was hardly the word he’d use to describe it. But somehow he refrained from saying so. Instead, he headed for the kitchen to get another glass of ice water.

  It was just too damn bad his pride kept him from pouring it where he needed it most.

  Four

  The dream started the way it always did.

  Angelica was walking slowly up the stairs to her apartment. On some level she knew it wasn’t really happening, that she was only reliving the past. And yet, it seemed so immediate, so real…

  Cars whizzed past on the street below her. The sun was quickly sinking in the west, and a gentle breeze was blowing in off the desert, chasing away the day’s heat.

  She barely noticed. Instead, her thoughts were turned inward. Mike, the little brother she’d done her best to raise, was really gone. And though she felt physically drained and inexpressibly sad, she was also relieved that the funeral and the rest of the past week’s distressing events were finally over.

  She was also deeply grateful to the man one step behind her. She didn’t know how she would have survived the past few days without Riley Fortune. Despite his bad-boy reputation, he’d been her hero.

  They reached the small landing that fronted her door. Turning, she searched for the words to tell him how much his help had meant to her, then finally gave up. “I’m sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile. “But I don’t know how to thank you—”

  “Forget it,
” he said immediately, looking uncomfortable.

  His reaction didn’t surprise her. If there was one thing she’d learned about him the past week, it was that he didn’t respond well to gratitude. And yet… “I can’t.”

  There was a protracted silence as they considered each other. He ran a hand through his hair, and her stomach gave an unexpected flutter as the shiny strands slid through his long, graceful fingers. “I should go.”

  “No,” she said instantly, then managed an awkward little laugh at the alarm obvious in her voice. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to be alone. Won’t you come in? Please? Just for a little while?”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Please?” she repeated.

  For a moment she was sure he was going to refuse. Then he shrugged. “All right. For a few minutes.”

  She unlocked the door. Once inside, she shrugged out of her inexpensive black suit jacket. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? A beer?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Okay.” Rubbing her hands over her arms, she walked across her tiny living room. Now that he was actually here, she couldn’t think of a thing to say so she took refuge in action, straightening the fuzzy afghan draped over her old rocking chair, rearranging the small collection of porcelain angels on her inexpensive curio shelf.

  She looked over to find him watching her, and there was something in his gaze that made her breath hitch. Suddenly self-conscious, she found herself rushing into speech. “I meant what I said outside. I don’t know how to thank you. Or what I would have done this week without you. Everything you did… It made all the difference.” As if compelled by something outside of herself, she walked toward him.

  He flashed a careless, self-denigrating smile. “I didn’t do anything special. At least, not anything that any half-ass decent friend wouldn’t do. It’s just a surprise coming from me.”

  She couldn’t stand to hear him put himself down. “Don’t, Riley, please. Because I really don’t think I could have made it w-without you.” Her voice cracked, and just like that, the past few days caught up with her. Tears flooded her eyes, and she suddenly couldn’t breath for the lump in her throat. Mortified, she started to turn away. “Oh, Lord, I’m sorry…”