Ready for Marriage?

by Beverly Barton; Ann Major Anne Marie Winston

  ‘‘Maybe you’d better do it first thing tomorrow,’’ he suggested. ‘‘Without Rusty.’’

  ‘‘Maybe he intended to replace the missing money. I bet he never intended for anyone to know about it, but when Cathie was killed and I found it, he blamed her.’’

  ‘‘Whoa,’’ he said. ‘‘That’s a lot to assume without any proof.’’

  ‘‘Yes, but it’s possible, right?’’

  ‘‘It makes sense,’’ he said slowly, and he sounded a lot more awake. ‘‘He’s the person other than Cathie who knew the most about the sanctuary’s finances. And serving as the treasurer, he might have had the opportunity to cook up a false account or two.’’

  ‘‘That’s what I’m going to start looking for first thing in the morning,’’ she said. ‘‘So far, all I’ve done was check and recheck figures to be sure they all match. Now I guess I’ll start looking for anything fishy.’’

  They lay silently for a moment, then Derek spoke again. ‘‘Do you think there’s a possibility that she and Rusty were involved in it together?’’

  ‘‘Not a chance,’’ she said immediately. ‘‘Cathie couldn’t stand Rusty. She always said his ego was bigger than the Goodyear blimp.’’ Then a horrible thought occurred. ‘‘Do you think…could he have arranged her accident somehow?’’

  Derek’s arm tightened around her waist. ‘‘I don’t know the answer to that. But now you’ve really convinced me that you need to get law enforcement involved tomorrow.’’

  She sighed. ‘‘God, this just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it?’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ he said. ‘‘It seems that way.’’

  She glanced at the clock. ‘‘One-thirty-seven. I can’t call anyone for a few hours yet.’’

  Derek pulled her closer, stroking his palm along the curve of her hip in a comforting gesture. She savored it for a moment, and eventually her disturbing thoughts receded as she felt him stirring and growing. Her bottom was nestled into the curve of his body and she squirmed against him, rubbing back and forth over his rising flesh. His hand crept up to cup one breast and he gently rotated his palm over her nipple. ‘‘You know, it’s a real shame that we’re both awake in the middle of the night.’’

  She laughed breathlessly as her body grew warm and lethargic. ‘‘Yeah, I wonder what we could do that would help us get back to sleep.’’

  ‘‘We’ll have to think of something.’’ Derek’s hand slipped down her body and slid between her legs. He lifted her leg over his thigh, then trailed his fingers along the widened V he’d made. She gave a broken cry of pleasure as he brushed over the sensitive feminine folds, touching her there with deft, careful strokes that gently aroused her. His fingers were quickly bathed in moisture and as he slid one deep inside her, she moaned and reached back to pull him hard against her. ‘‘What are you doing?’’

  ‘‘Having fun.’’ His voice was rough and deep.

  ‘‘I want you—inside me,’’ she panted. ‘‘Please?’’

  ‘‘In a minute.’’ His clever fingers wove tiny patterns over her trembling flesh, seeking out the pleasure point that seemed to be drawing her whole body into a taut, needy knot. ‘‘I want you to come for me first.’’

  ‘‘Derek—’’ But she never completed the thought. A startling wave of sensation burst through her and she cried out, shuddering and arching in his arms. She was dimly aware of him touching her again and again, and yet again, as she was hurled into the maelstrom of her own climax.

  Her body hadn’t fully quieted when she felt Derek withdraw his hand and roll her onto her stomach. He slid an arm beneath her and pulled her up onto her knees and in the same moment, slid the hard column of his erection into her, pushing his hips hard against her buttocks. The position angled her up for a shockingly deep penetration and she buried her face in the pillow as she screamed.

  ‘‘Am I hurting you?’’ He stilled at once.

  ‘‘No,’’ she said. ‘‘Oh, no!’’ She rocked forward and back. ‘‘Just move!’’

  ‘‘Oh, yeah.’’ There was strain in his voice and she felt his muscles bunch and flex. He braced one hand on the bed beside her as he began to slide in and out of her, thrusting with steady, strong strokes. He pulled almost completely out, then lunged forward and embedded himself deeply.

  She was crying out with every thrust, another level of sweet tension building and building, and this time when she came she felt the repeated pulses of his release jetting deep inside her, flooding her with the proof of his desire. As his taut muscles gave way, Derek slowly collapsed on her, his weight pressing her into the bed. He kissed the back of her neck, then rolled slowly aside and gathered her into his arms again.

  ‘‘Why the hell did I ever think marrying you would be a bad idea?’’ he said above her head. ‘‘I’ve slept better since you moved in than I have since Deb died.’’

  His arms were possessive, his tone tender, but Kristin’s heart shriveled at his words. It wasn’t that she begrudged Deb’s place in his life. Or his heart. It was only that she wanted there to be a little space for her, as well. But it seemed to her that no matter what she did, it only served to remind him of his loss.

  A vivid memory of their discussion of wedding plans played in her head. She had always envisioned a chapel and a lavish white dress with all their friends around them, but it had been obvious that Derek dreaded the notion. She’d seen Deb’s and his wedding album. They’d had exactly that type of traditional affair. So she would do whatever he wanted if it would help him not to be reminded of what he’d lost. A big white wedding would have been fun and special, but she wanted him more than she wanted any silly ceremony. And even though she knew he didn’t love her, she could hope that maybe someday when his heart healed…someday…

  She woke when he did in the morning and instead of going downstairs and making coffee, Derek was almost late for work when she joined him in the shower. She slipped in behind him and circled his waist with her hands, pressing her long, lean curves against him from the back while her hands slipped down to stroke and cup the male flesh at his groin.

  He let her take the lead as long as he could, let her fondle and rub and squeeze, but his self-control, always tenuous in the morning, eroded quickly. Spinning around, he bent her over the bench at the back wall of the shower, widening her stance by simply pressing himself between her spread legs. She was beautiful from this angle as well, the twin globes of her bottom glistening with beads of water. He tossed the loose mass of her hair over her shoulder, then positioned himself and slowly pushed into her, enjoying the sight of her soft pink flesh welcoming him, loving the feel of her body accepting every inch of him until his hips were solidly cradling her buttocks and he was buried to the hilt. She was warm and wet and making little sounds of pleasure and he marveled yet again at how he could have not realized what he would be missing without her in his life.

  He was happier than he’d been since he’d first learned Deb was sick. Happier, maybe. The thought made him flinch, but he knew it was true. Deb had always welcomed his lovemaking but she’d never seemed to catch fire in his arms the way Kris did, or heaven forbid, initiated passionate moments. She’d never followed him into the shower, though she’d gone willingly enough when he’d indicated that was what he wanted.

  Deb would have done anything to please him, but he wasn’t certain he’d ever really been able to show her how much pleasure her own body was capable of. With Kris…he looked down at himself as he thrust in and out of her, then reached one hand around to search through her nest of curls until he found the sweet little button he sought. He pressed and circled and almost immediately, she gave a strangled cry and began to convulse around him.

  He smiled, teeth gritted as he fought off his own finish, but her pleasure was too much to resist, and he began stroking in and out faster, harder, deeper, giving himself completely to her. His climax shivered down his spine and caught fire deep in his groin, surging up and exploding in heavy, pulsing waves
of release as her body milked his length and coaxed the last drops of desire from him.

  ‘‘Good morning,’’ he gasped as he slipped out of her.

  She turned to him, face radiant, and his heart skipped a beat as he drew her into his arms. God, she was beautiful. And her eyes… ‘‘Kris,’’ he said before he even knew he was going to speak, ‘‘you love me, don’t you?’’

  Her eyes widened and he felt her body tense for a second before she relaxed again. Her gaze softened as she searched his. ‘‘Yes,’’ she said. ‘‘I love you, Derek.’’

  He couldn’t hide his relief as he bent to kiss her, and his heart swelled with satisfaction. ‘‘Good,’’ he said. ‘‘I was hoping I hadn’t read you wrong.’’ He kissed her, lingering over it. ‘‘I need you, Kris,’’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘‘I never thought I’d want another woman in my life, but now I can’t imagine it without you.’’

  He knew he wasn’t imagining the pleasure that lit her face at his words as they finished showering and started their day.

  Ten

  Derek took Mollie to day care after breakfast on his way to the clinic.

  ‘‘See you at dinner,’’ he said to Kristin. ‘‘What are you going to do today?’’

  ‘‘I want to work this morning,’’ she said, ‘‘and then I’ll go over to the town house and try to finish packing.’’

  ‘‘All right.’’ He kissed her. ‘‘I’ll see you at supper, I guess. Tonight I’ll help you unpack.’’

  She nodded. ‘‘Hope your day goes well.’’ She stretched on tiptoe to kiss him, then bent to cuddle Mollie. She still felt like she was living a dream and she smiled as she waved them off and headed into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee before starting to work.

  Then she had a thought. It was eight-thirty now. In a short while, Rusty would be in his office, if he wasn’t already. She reviewed her thoughts from the night before and a grim fury settled over her. If she was wrong, she would apologize until the cows came home. But she wasn’t. She knew it.

  There was a stack of mail that Derek apparently had opened and not dealt with on the counter a short distance from the coffeepot and she picked it up. It would be safer and out of the way in his office, so she picked it up as she moved toward the hallway to get her purse and keys.

  She took the envelopes in and laid them in the center of his desk but as she walked out again, her hip brushed the edge of the desk and a different pile of papers slid to the floor. Yikes. Clearly, Derek could use her skills with paperwork, she thought with amusement. She retrieved all the papers and began to stack them again, idly noting that they were bank statements.

  Behind the letterhead that read Quartz Forge Bank of Pennsylvania, an unfamiliar logo caught her eye. Manhattan Trust. Manhattan Trust? Hmm. Weird. Why wouldn’t he have all his money at the Quartz Forge bank? She noted the balance: twenty-seven million, four hundred twenty-eight thousand—

  Whoa. That was a mistake. Someone had screwed up the placement of the decimal point in that figure. She’d better circle it and tell Derek to call his bank immediately…and then her brain ground to a halt.

  She took a closer look at the statement. There were transactions in the millions in several places. Withdrawals, to be exact. This account had held over thirty million at the beginning of the month. Twenty-seven million dollars. Oh, my God.

  Her hands began to shake. She felt breathless, and she gasped repeatedly for air. Derek had twenty-seven million dollars lying around in a bank in New York City. Then she realized he probably had a lot more than that. She’d bet anything those sizable transactions were stock buys.

  Oh, my God.

  Where had he gotten— It didn’t matter. He must have been wealthy when he came here. But why keep it a secret? Her cheeks burned as she remembered explaining about her father’s financial miscalculations, and her subsequent plan to pay off the debt.

  Why on earth hadn’t he ever told her? Had Deb known? Then she realized what a stupid question that was. Deb had known him since they were in high school together. Of course Deb had known.

  Which meant that he’d kept it secret from her, Kristin…and probably never had intended to tell her.

  God, no wonder he’d told her that he’d pay the bills and she could keep her salary. He must have thought that was hilarious!

  Her chest hurt and she realized she was holding her self-control together by the barest of threads. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she carefully laid the statement back on top of the stack. Her hands were shaking so badly she was afraid to pick up her coffee cup so she left it where it was on the desk.

  Then she turned and walked out of the room.

  She’d have to pack everything she’d already unpacked. He’d lied to her. She couldn’t live with a man who would deceive her like that.

  A sob burst out of her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and sank down on the bottom steps of the stairway in the hall. All these years, she had believed she knew Derek so well. She’d clutched all the little details of his life to her and been so—so smug about how well she knew him.

  And all the time she hadn’t known him at all.

  Why would a man who could live like a king reside in what was a nice, but certainly not an opulent home? Why would he work? Drive a rather average American-made car? Questions bombarded her. Was he generous with his money? Was he a philanthropist—?

  The donation. Oh, God, the million-dollar donation the animal sanctuary had received not long after Derek had come to town. Her father had been so thrilled, though he’d wanted terribly to thank the donor, who had remained anonymous.

  Anonymous, her fanny. Now she knew exactly who the unknown soul of generosity had been.

  Hurt sliced through her, so sharp and deep that she actually made a small sound of pain. Why had he hidden this from her? Her thoughts whirled around and around, making little sense as the hurt grew and expanded within her. She’d thought everything she’d ever wanted was within her reach. She had the man she loved and his beautiful daughter. But he wasn’t the man she loved, was he? He was a stranger. One she didn’t understand at all, and one who apparently liked it that way. One to whom she wasn’t important enough that he would consider sharing the real story of his life.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d known he didn’t love her. But she’d thought, given time and the powerful sexual attraction they shared, that marriage and sharing all it entailed would bring him around. She’d thought she could earn his love, she saw, because she’d assumed she knew him well enough to predict his behavior. Now…what?

  What could she do now?

  She rose and snatched a tissue from the powder room in the hallway. Blowing her nose and blotting her eyes, she took a deep, quavering breath. She’d have to get her act together by the end of the day when Derek came home because there was no way she could repack and move all her stuff in one day. That was the only thing she was sure of.

  Then she remembered what she’d been about to do. Rusty. That was one thing that couldn’t wait. Because if she was right, she was going to have to get the police involved.

  But if she hurried, ran over there right now, she could get it over with quickly, and then get back here and pack. If she worked hard enough, she might be able to get most of her things packed again before Derek got home.

  Another sob threatened and she hastily spun and headed for the table where her keys lay. Don’t think about it. Focus on Rusty.

  She repeated the words like a mantra the entire way to Rusty’s office, and was incredibly relieved to see one of his little European sports cars parked in its usual spot. If she’d had to wait—and think—she wasn’t sure she could have kept herself from breaking into tears.

  Jumping out of her car, she ran up the steps to the landing and entered the foyer of Rusty’s insurance office.

  She’d always loved the subdued blue, cream and soft green hues in which the reception area was decorated, but today she looked at it with fresh eyes. Both t
he pictures on the wall were original paintings by a well-known East coast artist. The patterned rug on the floor was closely woven and for the first time, she realized it was probably old and probably had cost a fortune, as had the graceful mahogany furniture that decorated the entire room. Everything matched. There were fresh flowers in a sparkling crystal vase on a side table. Baccarat?

  ‘‘Kristin!’’

  Her reflections were interrupted by Rusty’s voice and she jumped. ‘‘Hi, Rusty.’’

  ‘‘I’m not open yet but you’re always welcome. Would you like a cup of coffee?’’ He looked as perfectly groomed as he always did in an expensive summer suit with leather loafers and the Rolex she’d seen before.

  Was it her imagination or did his eyes look anxious? ‘‘No, thanks. I just came to talk for a moment. I won’t take up much of your time.’’

  ‘‘All right.’’ He indicated a small sofa. ‘‘Would you like to sit down?’’

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ She took a deep breath as he seated himself in an adjacent wing chair. Where to begin? How did one go about accusing someone else of embezzlement and possibly murder? She cleared her throat nervously. ‘‘I, ah, I came to talk more about the missing money.’’

  ‘‘Oh.’’ Rusty lowered his voice, tugging at the end of his silk tie. ‘‘Have you found out something about it?’’

  ‘‘I think so.’’ She sat back in her chair. ‘‘I believe you stole the money, Rusty. You’re the only other logical choice.’’

  A dull red flush climbed his cheeks. ‘‘That’s ridiculous. Why would I—’’

  She waved a hand around the room. ‘‘Why, indeed? Appearances are nice but are they worth going to jail for? If I call the police and tell them everything I know and what I suspect, will your bank statements and your past income tax forms bear out all this luxury?’’ Then she leaned forward. ‘‘Did Cathie know?’’

  There was a tense silence.

  ‘‘No.’’ The word slipped out and Rusty sagged in the chair. He passed a hand over his face. ‘‘Although I think she suspected.’’