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

by Caroline Cross

  “But you’re sure I’m in the clear?”

  Cynthia’s businesslike tone softened. “Absolutely. I’m going to call the D.A. myself as soon as we hang up. It’ll probably take a few days, but by next Monday we should be able to go back into court and have the charges officially withdrawn. By this time next week it ought to be all over.”

  “You’re sure?” he repeated, still not quite daring to believe it.

  “Yes. Link wouldn’t have called me, and I wouldn’t have called you, if I wasn’t. It’s over, Riley. This whole horrible nightmare is finally over.”

  He blew out a noisy breath. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Cynthia’s calm, above-the-fray lawyer facade slipped a little more and she was no longer able to contain her elation. “Wow is right. And now I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  “Is it all right with you if I call and tell Shane? He’s been so worried.”

  “Hell, Cynthia, of course. You can call Shane and Mom and Dad and anyone else you want to. And even though I know it’s not enough—thank you. For everything.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” she said warmly. “Take some time to celebrate, and I promise I’ll call the instant I hear anything more.”

  “Thanks.”

  She disconnected and he hung up his own receiver. Turning slowly around, he found Angelica staring at him, her face taut with strain. “Is—is everything okay?”

  He looked at her and relief began to give way to exhilaration. “Yeah. Cynthia says they’re going to drop the charges.” He heard himself say the words and suddenly couldn’t contain a smile. “She says it’s over.”

  “Oh, Riley!” As if released by his smile from an invisible bond, she dashed across the room and threw herself into his arms. “That’s wonderful!”

  The smile became a grin and he suddenly felt on top of the world. “Yeah, it is.” He still had at least a dozen unanswered questions—and a small, nagging feeling of uneasiness that he was damned if he understood—but he was in no mood for introspection.

  Lifting Angelica off her feet, he swung her around, making her laugh with delight. Looking down into her happy face, desire swept through him, hot and overwhelming.

  He gave in to temptation without a second thought, leaned over and kissed her. She gave a little gurgle of surprised pleasure, and then her arms tightened around his neck and she was kissing him back.

  Minutes later, generally feeling wonderful, he began to back toward the refrigerator.

  Angelica raised her head. “What are you doing?”

  “Celebrating.” Setting her on her feet, he opened the fridge door and retrieved the bottle of champagne he’d bought for their aborted wedding night. He ripped off the foil and worked the cork free. There was a hollow pop and then the fizzy wine bubbled up, running over his hand and dripping onto the floor.

  Angelica laughed. “Riley!”

  “Want some?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not drinking these days, remember?”

  “Ah, that’s right.” He raised the bottle to his mouth and took a quick swig and the fuzzy wine exploded in his stomach, sending heat through his veins. Grabbing her hand, he began tugging her toward the couch. “Come on.”

  “What are we doing?”

  He shoved the coffee table out of the way with his foot. “I’m going to give you a lesson on an alternate way to enjoy champagne.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “Take off your clothes and I’ll show you.”

  She gave him a long look, part amusement, part excitement. “Only if you do, too.”

  “Not a problem.” He set the champagne bottle on the end table and yanked his shirt over his head. Naked in about nine seconds flat, he reached over and steadied Angelica as she stepped out of her panties and shorts.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Now lie down.”

  She gave him another look but did as he said, shivering a little as she came in contact with the smooth leather couch. “It’s cold.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up, I promise.” Grabbing the champagne bottle, he knelt down beside her and poured a thimble’s worth of wine into the well of her navel.

  “Riley!”

  “Hush, baby.” He leaned over and sucked the bubbly liquid into his mouth, then poured another dollop and did it again, his hand skating up to cradle her breast.

  “Oh, my,” she said breathlessly.

  “Not too bad, huh?” He tipped the bottle again, only this time he let it trickle lower than her navel before bowing his head and licking it from her skin.

  “Oh!” Her hips suddenly bucked as he chased a bead of champagne downward. “Riley!” she cried again.

  “Trust me. You’ll like this,” he said. He sure did. His heart was thumping like a jackhammer as he took his time, tasting her, finding her more intoxicating than any bottle of wine. But then, he felt more than a little drunk, with happiness and relief—not to mention the soft mewling sound she made as he settled his mouth over her and his tongue breached the seat of her desire.

  Her hips bucked again, and she was suddenly tugging on his hair. “Now,” she said with a fierce sob as he reluctantly looked up. “I want you inside me.”

  She didn’t have to ask twice. He clambered onto the couch to settle between her thighs. Bracing his weight on his hands, he leaned down and kissed her as he slid inside her, both of them groaning as they came together. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she reached up and tried to pull him even closer, but it was impossible on the narrow confines of the couch.

  Making a quick decision, he rolled them onto the floor, holding her tight and breaking her fall with his body. Then he shifted her beneath him, still inside her, reached for her hands and entwined his long fingers with her smaller ones.

  She looked up at him, and there was a look on her face he’d never seen before. “I love you, Riley.” She raised her head and pressed a kiss to his mouth, her lips clinging to his with a sort of aching tenderness that stole his breath. “No matter what happens, I love you so much.”

  The words took him by surprise. They seemed to detonate inside him, setting off a chain reaction of need. Not knowing what to say, he bowed his head and kissed her back, a flood of possessiveness sweeping through him. He began to move, his hips pumping, slowly at first, then faster and faster as he tried to get closer, deeper, needing something…needing her…

  They rocked together, mouths sealed, hands clasped, bodies growing slick from exertion as the world seemed to fade away and there was just the two of them, together.

  And then Angelica cried out. Her arms tightened around him, and she shuddered, and her explosion set off his own. He pressed himself deeply inside her, his head falling back as her body tightened around him. Then his climax ripped through him, pleasure so sweet it brought tears to his eyes and had him clenching his teeth.

  Contractions racked him, until at last all the strength seemed to drain out of him and he collapsed against her, still holding tight to her hands. He had just enough presence of mind to roll onto his side, and then for a space of time his mind went blank, done in by the extent of his pleasure.

  When he finally opened his eyes he found Angelica was watching him, the tenderness he’d felt earlier in her kiss now reflected in her eyes. “You were right.” Her voice was raspy with exhausted satisfaction. But that didn’t stop her as she reached out and gently stroked her fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his temple.

  “About what?”

  She smiled. “There is more than one way to enjoy champagne.”

  He couldn’t help but smile back.

  Riley glanced sideways at his wife. She lay facing him, her head pillowed on her arm, fast asleep on the thick pile of the family room carpet.

  Careful not to disturb her, he shifted more fully onto his back and stared at the ceiling overhead.

  Except for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the sleep-steady in and out of Ange
lica’s breathing, the room was perfectly quiet.

  Which only made the thoughts marching through his head seem that much louder.

  The charges against him were going to be dropped and he’d just had great sex with a warm, beautiful woman who in roughly five months was going to give birth to his child. He ought to be happy. Hell, he ought to be ecstatic.

  And he was, he assured himself. It was just…now that the initial euphoria of Cynthia’s stunning good news had worn off, that nagging uneasiness was back, clamoring for attention like a persistent itch that had to be scratched.

  He tried to tell himself he didn’t get it. That he couldn’t imagine what the problem was.

  But the longer he lay there, the harder it was to lie to himself.

  He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. And forced himself to face the truth head on. Ever since his arrest, he’d been living in the present only. Sure, he’d gone through the motions of acting as if he believed in the future—beginning to lay out next year’s budget at work, making plans for the baby, even getting married—but deep down he hadn’t really had any faith that things would work out.

  Instead, he’d been taking things one day at time, refusing to look ahead because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like what was in store for him.

  But now he was free and clear, with his whole life stretched out before him.

  And he couldn’t seem to stem a rising tide of panic.

  Making matters worse, Angelica thought she was in love with him. And though a selfish part of him felt fiercely gratified that she did, he knew damn well that for her sake it would be best if she were mistaken.

  Not that he didn’t care about her. He did. More than he’d ever cared about any other woman in his life. What’s more, he considered her a friend, and that was a first for him when it came to the opposite sex. But love?

  No, he didn’t think so. Love just wasn’t for him.

  That hadn’t stopped him from wanting her, however. And in his effort to woo her, to entice her back into his bed, he’d been so charming that she’d gotten the wrong idea about who he was.

  But the day was going to come when she’d find out the truth. And when she did, she’d be devastated. For her sake, it would be best if the reality check came now, before things went any further. She had a right to understand the real character—or lack thereof—of the man she’d married. Even if he hated the idea. And even if she was probably going to get hurt in the process. It still had to be better to do it now than later.

  Once again, he looked over at her sleeping face. For a second his heart was gripped by a terrible pain, and he wasn’t sure if he could go through with it.

  Yet how could he not?

  Doing his best not to disturb her, he started to roll to his feet.

  “Riley?” she murmured, a soft sound of protest.

  “Shh.” He grabbed the afghan off the chair and spread it over her. Unable to stop himself, he let his hand linger, just for a moment, on the warm curve of her neck. “Go back to sleep. It’s okay.”

  But it wasn’t. And as he pulled on his clothes, picked up his car keys and walked out of the house, he knew it.

  Twelve

  There was no mistaking the low rumble of the Corvette’s engine.

  Seated on the long, ice-green sofa in the living room, Angelica looked up from the book she’d been pretending to read and watched through the front window as the silver sports car pulled into the driveway. Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs, but except for a quick glance at her watch, she forced herself to stay where she was.

  It was three o’clock. Twenty-two hours almost to the minute since she’d come deliciously awake on the family room floor, reached for Riley and found him gone.

  Just thinking about it made her throat feel tight.

  As if she’d had an out-of-body experience, she had a perfect image in her mind of herself, sitting up and hugging the afghan to her naked body, innocently calling out his name.

  There’d been no answer because he wasn’t there, of course. She just hadn’t known it at the time. Still happy and trusting, she’d climbed to her feet and headed for their bedroom, assuming he’d gone to shower. The bedroom had been empty, however, and the bathroom hadn’t shown any signs of recent activity, so she’d walked to the French doors and looked out. But the backyard and pool had also appeared deserted.

  Perplexed, but not yet feeling any alarm, she’d taken a few minutes to pull on some clothes and made another circuit of the house before finally thinking to check the garage. Incredibly, she’d actually been surprised to see his car was gone.

  And still she hadn’t panicked. Instead, she’d told herself with more annoyance than distress that he must have gone to visit his brother or parents to discuss what was happening with his case and had simply forgotten to leave her a note.

  That fantasy had persisted until the phone rang. She’d snatched it up, fully expecting to hear his voice, prepared to be relieved. Instead it had been Shane, who had been at their parents’ house and was calling to congratulate his twin on the imminent clearing of his name.

  Not about to admit that she didn’t have a clue where her husband was, Angelica had made up a story about how Riley had gone to get Chinese takeout and promised Shane she’d have him call when he got back.

  Except that he hadn’t come back.

  Still, it had taken countless hours—during which she’d had to field at least a dozen congratulatory phone calls from various Fortunes—for her to accept that. And to face the idea that he finally must’ve had time to reflect upon what Mike had done and that was why he’d left.

  Sick with regret, wondering if things would’ve been different if she’d had the courage to share her suspicions about her brother upfront, telling herself she’d do anything if only he’d give her another chance, she’d spent a long, sleepless night. It had been far worse than when Riley had walked out of her life four months ago, because then she’d just thought she was in love with him.

  Now she knew. And the idea that she may have lost him for good was tearing her apart.

  Outside, the car door opened and Riley climbed out.

  His clothes were wrinkled, his hair rumpled, his cheeks shadowed by two days of beard. He looked like hell, he looked totally beautiful and seeing him on his own two feet, hearty and hale, made her feel weak all over.

  But not for long. In a demonstration of how unsteady her emotions were, fast on the heels of her relief came a spurt of anger.

  How dare he be okay? How dare he break her heart this way and not have to be carried home on a stretcher?

  He started toward the house, disappearing from her line of sight as he reached the front entrance. A second later, the front door swung open and he walked inside.

  He pulled off his sunglasses and set them on the entry table. Unaware he was being observed, he squeezed his eyes shut and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. In that instant he looked utterly desolate and her anger fled as abruptly as it had appeared.

  As if sensing her presence, he looked over and saw her. His hand dropped away and his entire demeanor changed. “Hey.” The smile he sent her was pure nonchalance.

  Needless to say, she didn’t smile back. “Where have you been?”

  He came down the single step and sauntered toward her. “Out. What are you doing in here?”

  She ignored his question. “Out where?”

  He gave his trademark shrug. “Just out. I decided to do some celebrating.”

  With a slight shock, she realized she didn’t believe him. True, he looked terrible, but he was now only a few feet away and she didn’t smell a hint of either cigarette smoke or alcohol on him. Nor had the look she’d glimpsed on his unguarded face a moment ago been that of a man who’d just spent a wonderful night enjoying fun and games.

  Not that it mattered. It wasn’t where he’d been but why that concerned her. And her responsibility for it. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Riley. I’m sorrier
than you can imagine for what Mike did. I know now that I should have told you what I suspected sooner, and I hope you can forgive me. But if you can’t—if anybody’s going to leave, it ought to be me.”

  Inexplicably, he stared at her as if she had two heads. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t have to pretend. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

  He raised his hand. “Hold on a minute. You think I left because of what Mike did?” He shook his head. “Hell, Angelica, give me a little credit. No way would I hold you responsible for your brother’s actions. Anymore than I’d expect my brother to be responsible for mine. As for you not saying anything…you told me yesterday that you didn’t want to get my hopes up, and I believe you.”

  She tried to tell herself that he was just trying to spare her feelings. Still, she couldn’t stop the hope flaring to life inside her, gaining strength as she met his silver gaze and saw the conviction there. With a sense of wonder, she realized he really meant what he said.

  He wasn’t mad at her. He didn’t blame her. He understood.

  A terrible weight seemed to lift off her shoulders. Yet even as that burden disappeared, it was replaced by an utter sense of bewilderment. “But if you’re not mad, then why did you leave like that?”

  His shoulders rose in another careless shrug. “Because I felt like it. That’s the kind of guy I am.”

  She stared at him, momentarily rendered speechless by the absurdity of that statement. “This really isn’t about Mike,” she said finally, still trying to absorb it.

  “No.”