Contracted: corporate wife

by Hart, Jessica

  So stick with it he would. And he would find a new girlfriend, the sooner the better.

  'Are you OK, Patrick?'

  Patrick jerked his head up to see Lou looking at him in concern from the doorway. She was wearing a pale blue

  silky skirt and a white top, with a soft little cardigan, and she looked cool and fresh and comfortable.

  And just as desirable as she had looked wrapped in that towel.

  Patrick swallowed hard and got to his feet. 'I'm fine,' he said brusquely. 'Let's go.'

  'Brewer's First are having a big bash to mark their fiftieth anniversary at the end of September,' he told Lou over a bowl of pasta. 'We're both invited.'

  'Do you want me to come and do my corporate-wife act?' asked Lou.

  'Would you mind?'

  'Of course not. I haven't done anything to keep my side of the bargain yet.' She smiled at him. 'I haven't forgotten our deal.'

  .'Good.' Patrick looked away, but her smile still shimmered behind his eyelids. He cleared his throat. 'Good.'

  'Will it be a very posh affair?' Lou asked after a moment, a little puzzled by his silence. 'Should I dress up?'

  'It's black tie, so you'll need evening dress, yes. Why don't you buy yourself something new?'

  Lou ran a mental eye over her wardrobe. She didn't have anything very exciting, but there were a few basics she could easily glam up. 'I'm sure I can find something suitable at home,' she told him.

  'You never buy yourself anything new,' said Patrick abruptly. 'I've noticed. You're still wearing the same clothes you had before we were married.'

  'There's nothing wrong with them, is there?'

  'It's not that.' He hunched a shoulder, obscurely hurt but not wanting to admit it. 'It's like you don't want to spend any of my money,' he explained as best he could. 'You hardly touch the money I put in your account.'

  'I use it for food,' she protested.

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  'It's your money,' he said irritably. 'You don't need to account to me for what you do with it. Buy whatever you want.'

  Lou set her jaw stubbornly. 'I don't feel comfortable about doing that,' she said and Patrick rolled his eyes.

  4 1 thought you married me for my money!'

  'I married you for security,' she said evenly. 'For a better life for me and the kids, and you've given us that. You have no idea what it's like living in that beautiful big house after that flat we were in. We don't need your money as well.'

  'Try and spend some of it anyway,' said Patrick with an exasperated sigh. 'Buy yourself a new dress for that reception—and don't you dare buy anything cheap because you think it's not your money!' he added with a stern look, j 'You'll be there as my wife, and I don't want you to give the impression that I'm tight-fisted!'

  Lou rang Marisa the next morning. 'Patrick's practically ordered me to go and squander a fortune on a dress,' she said. 'You'd better come and help me choose.'

  'Ooh, he didn't wake you up by waving a credit card in front of your face and telling you that you had shopping to do, did he?' said Marisa enviously. 'That's been my fantasy ever since I saw Pretty WomanV

  'No, but it feels a bit as if I'm being bought,' Lou confessed. 'I don't like it.'

  'Honestly, Lou, you're his wife, not a hooker! Most women would be falling over themselves to spend his money. It's not like he can't afford to pay a few credit-card: bills.'

  'That's not the point,' said Lou stubbornly. 'Patrick's already been more than generous. We live for free in this fantastic house—the children even get to have their own

  pool!—and we don't do anything for him in return. It would be different if we were properly married.'

  'Hey, I was your witness, remember?' said Marisa, unimpressed. It looked like a proper wedding to me. And you can do something for him now,' she pointed out. 'He's asked you to go and buy a posh frock, so let's go and find one to knock his socks off!'

  They found it at the very end of the afternoon, just as Lou was ready to give up and go home.

  'This is itV Marisa held up a wonderful shimmering dress in that perfect shade of red between pink and scarlet. A layer of chiffon covered the arms and wafted over a simple silk under-dress. When Lou tried it on, the material slithered tantalisingly over her skin.

  'She'll take it,' Marisa said to the sales assistant as soon as Lou stepped out of the changing room.

  Lou was scandalised at the price, but Marisa overrode her, bullying her into matching sandals, earrings that glittered and swung tantalisingly, and an eye-catching bag, handmade with feathers and sequins.

  'And you'll need a new lipstick too,' she said to Lou. 'I know just the colour.'

  She insisted on coming round to supervise Lou's makeup on the night of the reception, too. 'You look fabulous!' she declared, standing back and eyeing her critically.

  'You don't think it's a bit...much?' said Lou, who was rapidly losing her nerve. She felt ridiculously nervous, the way she had at sixteen before her first real date.

  Which was stupid. This wasn't a date. She was just attending a function with her husband. Nothing to be nervous about in that.

  It was just that this dress made her feel very aware of her own body. It made her feel...sexy. Too sexy for a forty-

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  five-year-old who was supposed to be content with just being friends.

  Patrick didn't help matters by looking devastatingly attractive in a dinner jacket whose severe black and white accentuated the hard lines of his face and sat easily on his powerful frame. He was waiting for her in the hall and Lou felt the breath leak out of her lungs as she walked down the stairs, very aware of the slippery material shifting suggestively over her body, and wishing that there were just a bit more chiffon to cover her cleavage.

  'You look nice,' said Patrick in an odd voice.

  Behind her, Lou heard Marisa let out a slow breath of exasperation. 'No, she doesn't look nice, Patrick. She looks absolutely gorgeous! Try that again,' she told him bossily, ignoring Lou's attempts to frown her down.

  'You look gorgeous,' said Patrick obediently.

  A chauffeured limousine was waiting for them outside, but Lou was too consumed by a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment to appreciate the luxury. She had wanted Patrick to think that she was gorgeous without prompting from Marisa, she realised. Now she felt as if she had tried too hard.

  Beside her in the back of the car, Patrick was looking distant and preoccupied. Probably terrified that she was about to jump on him. Why on earth had she let Marisa bully her into this dress? Lou wondered desperately. She should have worn her old black silk trousers and cream top and been done with it.

  It was a relief to get to the reception at last. It was a glittering affair, and the room seemed full of men looking far more distinguished than they merited in their dinner jackets, and beautiful women in fabulous dresses, many of them a lot more dramatic than Lou's. At least that meant

  that she looked less conspicuous. Less like a woman who had tried too hard to catch her husband's flagging attention.

  She was agonisingly conscious of Patrick beside her, of his warm hand at her elbow as he introduced her, at the small of her back as he manoeuvred her through the crowd. Inevitably, they got separated after a while. Lou couldn't decide whether that made things easier or more difficult. She was quite capable of talking to people on her own, but even as she smiled and talked and listened she was acutely aware of Patrick a few yards away.

  No sooner had she been detached from his side than one girl after another zeroed in on him. She could see them flirting openly with him, tilting their pretty heads appeal-ingly, shaking back their blonde manes, laying their perfectly manicured hands on his sleeve, moving closer as they smiled suggestively.

  Lou wanted to march over and slap their hands off him.

  But she didn't have the right to do that. She had signed that away when she'd agreed to their pre-nuptial contract. She wasn't here to be jealou
s and possessive. She was only here to support Patrick and his business, and she had better not forget that.

  Turning deliberately away from him, Lou smiled brilliantly at her companion, a young merchant banker called Charles who seemed visibly dazzled by her. It was nice to be appreciated for a change, Lou thought, her ego a little soothed. Nice to meet a man who didn't necessarily think that young blondes with long legs were the ultimate female company.

  'I think we should go soon.' Patrick materialised at her elbow, looking grim.

  'What, already?' Lou asked in surprise. They hadn't been there long.

  'We've been here long enough,' he said.

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  Charles was looking a little daunted by the way Patrick was glaring at him, and Lou introduced the two men awkwardly, stumbling over describing Patrick as her husband.

  Given no encouragement whatsoever to linger, Charles took himself off. 'I hope we'll meet again,' he said to Lou.

  'I hope so too,' she said to make up for Patrick's rudeness. 'It was lovely to meet you. Really.'

  "7f was lovely to meet you",' Patrick mimicked furiously as he propelled Lou towards the exit.

  'Why were you so rude to him?' she demanded, practically running to keep up.

  'I didn't like the way he was ogling you.'

  Lou gaped at him. 'Ogling? He wasn't ogling me!'

  'Come on, Lou, the guy was halfway down your dress!'

  'At least he noticed me.' Lou's temper was simmering as she got into the car that was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. 'It's more than you did. I might as well not have been there for all the notice you took of me.'

  Patrick leant forward, had a word with the driver, and then closed the window between the front and back seats with a snap.

  'Of course I noticed,' he said grittily. 'It was hard not to notice the way you were flirting.'

  'I was not flirting,' said Lou through her teeth. 'I was being pleasant to your business associates, which is what you asked me to be.'

  Patrick knew that. He had been watching her all evening out of the corner of his eye. She hadn't been the youngest woman there, or the best-dressed, or the prettiest, but she had the style and assurance of an older woman and an elusive charm that drew people to her. He just hadn't liked the way other men had looked at her in that dress.

  Letting out a sigh, Patrick ran a hand through his hair. 'You're right, I'm sorry,' he said. 'You did a good job

  tonight. Lots of people told me how charming you were. You're obviously going to be a great asset to me. I'd rather you didn't wear that dress again, though,' he added, trying to sound humorous, but failing.

  'Listen, you told me to go and buy a dress,' said Lou angrily. 'So I did. What's wrong with it?'

  'There's nothing wrong with it. It's just that it's too...too...'

  'Too whatT

  'It's too disturbing,' Patrick said. 'It's the kind of dress that gives a man the wrong idea.'

  And quite suddenly the atmosphere changed. Lou was stunned at how quickly she could go from anger and frustration to an electric awareness. The very air between them seemed to be vibrating as Patrick looked into her eyes, his deep, dark voice caressing her skin.

  'It's the kind of dress that makes a man think about unzipping it,' he went on softly. Tt makes him think about what you're wearing underneath, what your skin would feel like...'

  There didn't seem to be enough air to breathe properly. Unable to tear her eyes away from his, Lou moistened her lips. 'It wasn't meant to make you think that,' she managed.

  T know, but it does.' Tantalisingly, Patrick brushed the hair away from her face. 'That dress makes me wonder what it would be like to kiss you.'

  'You should try wearing it,' said Lou unsteadily, desperately trying to make a joke of it. Tt makes you wonder more than that!'

  'Does it now?' Patrick's smile gleamed in the darkness. 'Then maybe we should stop wondering and find out.'

  A dim part of Lou's brain was jumping up and down and telling her that this was a bad idea—a very bad idea— but it was hard to pay attention to it when every nerve in

  her body was pointing out that this was what she had been thinking about for months.

  She hadn't let herself accept the way her fingers itched to reach out and touch him whenever he sat near her. She hadn't wanted to admit how much she wanted to run her hands up his arms and over his shoulders so that she could feel the powerful flex of his muscles. How much she wanted to bury into his lean, hard body, to crawl all over him, to press her lips to his throat, to kiss the edges of his eyes, the corner of his mouth. How she wanted to feel him smile as she kissed him.

  Or how much she wanted him to pull her into him, to roll her beneath him, to make love to her until they forgot everything but the clamour of their bodies.

  And now, here, in the dim cocoon of this luxurious car, isolated from the outside world, she had her chance. Go for it, her body was yelling. Don't listen to your brain!

  So Lou closed her mind and gave in to temptation. She didn't even hesitate as Patrick leant slowly towards her. Enveloped in hazy excitement, she lifted her hands to his shoulders and spread them over his back, revelling in the strength of his muscles beneath the dinner jacket, and as his mouth came down on hers she drew a breath of exquisite anticipation.

  Giving herself up to the rush of pleasure, to the touch and taste of him, to his scent and his feel, she kissed him back with deep, hungry kisses. It felt wonderful to wrap her arms around his solid strength, to feel his hands slide over her, hot and insistent through the flimsy material of her dress, making her gasp with excitement, and she shivered at the press of his lips against her throat.

  Her blood was pounding, her body booming so loudly that it took some time before she even realised that the car

  had stopped. 'We're home.' Patrick's ragged voice penetrated her swirling mind.

  Home? Lou struggled to make sense of the word, struggled to remember where she was, what she was doing.

  Somehow she found herself out on the gravel. Patrick was leaning through the front window, saying something to the driver, and then the car slid out of the drive and the gates closed silently behind it.

  Patrick was still reeling from the rocketing excitement. How long had it been since he had necked in the back of a car like that? If the driver hadn't knocked to indicate that they had arrived just then...!

  Smiling, he walked back to Lou, still standing exactly where he had left her and looking as shell-shocked as he felt. Who would have thought that a kiss could spin so quickly out of control?

  'Your room or mine?' he said.

  'Wait.' Lou put out her hands to ward him off as he reached for her. 'I'm not sure we should be doing this.'

  'Not sure?' Patrick couldn't believe it. 'You seemed pretty sure in the back of the car there!'

  'I know, I know.' She was trembling with reaction, but the air had cleared her head and she could think properly again.

  'Don't try and tell me you don't want me,' he said angrily.

  'No, I won't try and do that.' Lou swallowed. 'But you need to make a choice, Patrick. You can have me, or you can have your blondes, but you can't have both. I'm not going to sleep with you now and then accept that you have other girlfriends.'

  'Lou...' Patrick raked his hands through his hair. 'Do we have to talk about this now?'

  'Yes, we do,' she said. 'I need to know now whether

  you want me enough to give up the freedom you said you wanted so much when we were married.'

  Patrick stared at her. God, he wanted her. He had wanted her for months, he realised in a sudden moment of clarity. But give up his freedom? Tie himself down to commitment and fidelity, after one kiss? How could he decide that?

  His hesitation told Lou everything she needed to know. 'Well, it looks like I've got my answer,' she said, and turned away to walk into the house. Alone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lou was weeding when Patrick got back from
work the next evening. It was the first chance he'd had to talk to her alone since he'd been left standing angry and baffled on the gravel, and he'd been doing some thinking since then.

  'I'm sorry about last night, Lou,' he said.

  She leant back on her heels and looked at him. 'You don't need to apologise,' she said. It was as much my fault as yours. I got a bit carried away by that dress, that was all.'

  'You were right to stop me when you did,' Patrick persevered. 'It would have been a mistake.' He hesitated. 'I want us to stay friends.'

  'Of course,' she agreed instantly. 'I'd rather keep it that way too. Last night...it was just an itch that we both felt like scratching, but it would have complicated everything. Let's just forget it ever happened, shall we?' She mustered a smile. 'I won't wear the dress again!'

  That would help, thought Patrick. He didn't think much of his chances of forgetting that kiss, though. Out loud, he said, 'I was thinking that I should go out more. See other women, the way I planned.'

  Lou pulled a straggling weed out of her fork to hide the flash of dismay she felt. 'Good idea,' she said.

  It was a good idea. She had come too close to getting hurt last night, and she wasn't risking that again. 'Have you got anyone in mind?'

  'Well, yes,' said Patrick awkwardly.

  He had found the card the young lawyer had slipped him

  at the reception in his jacket pocket that morning. Fingering it, he remembered her vaguely. Tall, blonde, very attractive, very assured. The card said that her name was Holly. Patrick didn't remember that. All he remembered was how uncomfortable he had felt at her open interest. She must have been able to see his wedding ring. He had only taken the card because it had been less trouble than refusing it.