No Need for Love

by Sandra Marton

  She would never let him touch her again—and, as soon as he realised that, he would surely agree to put an end to this farce of a marriage.

  The soft breeze blew a strand of hair across Hannah’s face, and she tucked it behind her ear. It wouldn’t even be a matter of getting him to agree. He’d had plenty of time to calm down by now. He was a rational man, logical by training and by instinct; he had to have reached the same conclusions she had. He had to know they had no choice but to fly back to the States and end things as discreetly and quickly as possible.

  She would even accept some of the blame herself, instead of laying it all on him.

  ‘We misunderstood each other, Grant,’ she said softly, as if he were standing before her, ‘but it’s not the end of the world. I’m willing to admit we made a mistake, and I’m certain you are, too.’

  With a little nod of self-assurance, Hannah strode into the bedroom and prepared to face him.

  She showered, pulled on a bright print dress and a pair of leather sandals, then sat before the dressing-table and put on just enough make-up to put colour into her cheeks. She had seen Grant negotiate; he would see a woebegone look as a sign of weakness, and she could not afford to seem weak in this encounter. Grant was too strong and formidable an opponent for that. Wasn’t that why she was in this mess in the first place, because she’d let him roll over her objections to marrying him?

  She applied a light coating of mascara to her dark lashes, then stroked a warm coral lipstick over her mouth. She brushed her hair until it crackled with electricity, then hesitated. Glasses? Or contact lenses? The glasses lent a more authoritative look, she decided, and she plopped them on her nose.

  Her courage almost failed her when she reached for the doorknob. She pressed her ear to the door, but she could hear nothing. Was he still asleep? Or—or was he gone? Hope surged in her heart. Maybe he’d not only reached the same conclusions she’d reached, maybe he’d acted upon them.

  Well, there was only one way to find out. Hannah smoothed down her skirt, squared her shoulders, and flung the door open.

  He was there, all right, standing at the bay window on the far side of the room, sipping what looked like orange juice as he stared out to sea—and he was naked.

  No. Hannah’s heart thudded against her ribs. Not naked, exactly. He was wearing a towel draped around his hips. Her gaze flew over him. He must have been swimming: water glistened on his tanned shoulders, glinted like tiny crystals in his dark hair.

  Once, on a quiet Sunday spent in a small museum, she’d rounded a corner and come upon a Greek statue in a sunlit alcove, a life-size figure of a man so perfect, so beautiful, that the sight had sent something that was almost a pain knifing into her heart.

  It was the way she felt now, looking at Grant. He was standing absolutely still, caught in a ray of soft morning sunlight so that his skin looked golden. The statue had been marble, cold even to look at, but Grant’s flesh would be warm, warmer now than it had been last night, when her fingers had drifted over those muscled shoulders, the hard, clefted back, when she’d felt the satiny brush of his skin against her naked breasts…

  She started to turn away, but it was too late. Grant swung towards her. Something glinted in his eyes—surprise, perhaps—and then his face became closed.

  ‘Good morning.’

  His tone was unreadable but the greeting was civilised. It was, at least, a start. Hannah took a breath.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  Was that sarcasm? She looked at him, saw nothing in the cool grey eyes, and decided that, even if that had been a gauntlet tossed down, she’d feign ignorance of having noticed.

  ‘Very well,’ she answered.

  ‘I’m glad one of us did.’ He smiled pleasantly. ‘That sofa’s not as comfortable as it looks.’

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed. That had to have been a barb. But he was still smiling politely, as if a discussion of sleeping habits were one they had all the time, as if the night just passed had not been the first of their marriage…

  As if he were not standing there wearing little more than that damned smile.

  ‘Would you like some fresh orange juice? Or coffee? The porter delivered a tray a few minutes ago.’

  Either one would stick in her throat. But either was preferable to just standing here, with nothing but Grant to look at.

  ‘Coffee would be fine,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘Where did he put——?’

  ‘Over there. No, don’t bother, I’ll get it.’ He smiled back at her. ‘I want some more juice, anyway.’

  He walked towards her slowly. She could see the flex of muscle beneath his skin. Her gaze flew to his chest, where drops of water glittered in the dark, silken hair, then fell lower to where the hair arrowed down his flat belly and disappeared beneath the towel so casually knotted across his hips.

  ‘How do you want it, Hannah?’ His voice was soft, a little husky. She looked up quickly, and their eyes met.

  ‘How do I want what?’ she whispered.

  He smiled lazily. ‘Your coffee. Do you want cream and sugar?’

  She let out her breath. ‘Oh. Oh, no, I—I take it black.’

  Grant poured the coffee and handed it to her. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘My having to ask you a question like that, I mean. You know how I take my coffee, whether I like mayonnaise or mustard on my ham sandwich, you probably even know what size shirt I wear—and yet I know very little about you.’

  Hannah took a swallow of coffee. It was hot and very strong. Maybe it would clear the cobwebs from her head, because if this conversation had a direction she had yet to discern it.

  ‘I guess that’s right,’ she said.

  ‘Why is that, do you think?’

  She looked at him. There was an expression that could best be defined as interest on his face. Was this more polite chit-chat—or was he manoeuvring her again, in some way she could not understand?

  ‘Well,’ she said, after a few seconds, ‘that’s not unusual. That’s usually how it is with secretaries and employers.’

  Grant nodded. ‘I suppose. But then, you’re not my secretary.’

  He smiled pleasantly, and she did, too, even though she felt as if she were two people, one standing here having this impersonal conversation with a half-naked man who had only hours ago told her she had no choice but to give herself to him, the other trying desperately to figure out what the hell was going on.

  Was he trying to make amends for his behaviour last night? Was he telling her that he knew they’d made a mistake?

  Hannah smiled, too. ‘Well, no,’ she said, ‘I’m not your secretary, I’m your paralegal, but it comes down to the same——’

  ‘You’re not my paralegal either.’ His smile tilted just a bit. ‘Not any more. As of yesterday afternoon, you became my wife——’

  Their eyes met, and what she saw in his made the cup tremble in her hand. She turned and put both cup and saucer down on the table.

  ‘—or have you managed to put that unpleasant detail out of your head?’

  She looked up at him. He was still smiling, but now his smile looked as if it had been painted on.

  ‘Grant—’

  ‘I doubt if a newly-wed couple has ever used this suite as poorly as we’ve used it,’ he said.

  ‘Grant, listen——’

  ‘That bed wasn’t made for one.’ He stepped closer to her, so close that she could smell the faint salty tang of the sea on his body. ‘You looked very small and alone in it last night.’

  Her eyes flew to his. ‘When did you——?’

  ‘You needn’t look so alarmed. I didn’t lay a hand on you.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Hell, if I were into force, I’d have used it yesterday instead of taking a ten-mile run on the beach.’

  ‘I don’t under——’

  ‘I’m talking about working off frustration.’ He smiled tightly. ‘Cold showers work too, but you, my lovely wife, had pre
-empted access to the shower.’

  Hannah felt her cheeks redden, but when she spoke her voice was calm.

  ‘About—about being your wife.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We have to talk about that,’ she said. ‘I can’t be. Surely you know that now.’

  He looked at her for a long moment, and then he reached out and stroked the hair back from her flushed face, the gesture curiously gentle and at odds with the dark look in his eyes.

  His answer was a monotone. ‘Yes.’

  Hannah’s heart lifted. ‘I was sure you’d understand,’ she said quickly. ‘I just knew——’

  ‘And we will talk, over breakfast. Just give me a minute to change, and I’ll join you.’

  It was over, then, she thought as she stood near the window in the sitting-room and waited for him. Soon, all this would be finished.

  Good. That was what she wanted, to put this behind her so that in time she wouldn’t remember any of it. She would forget everything. The way Grant had looked at her when she’d come down the aisle towards him; the way he’d taken her in his arms once they were alone; the way her body sang under the magic of his kisses and his hands.

  ‘Hannah?’

  She sprang to her feet as the bedroom door opened. Grant was standing there, smiling, dressed in white canvas jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, and, when she saw him, something happened deep within her heart, something so fierce and unexpected that it sent a shudder racing through her.

  ‘Hannah? Are you all right?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I—I’m fine. I just—I think I need some air.’

  ‘Let’s take a walk along the beach,’ he said, and somehow she managed to smile her agreement, even take his hand when he offered it to her.

  ‘That sounds nice.’

  They strolled slowly along the shoreline, close together like the few other couples they saw, and Hannah knew they must look as if they, too, had created a little world all their own, but it was the worst kind of lie. While the other couples were whispering words of love, Grant was talking very quietly about his errors of judgement.

  ‘I wouldn’t have suggested it if I hadn’t thought it would work,’ he said. ‘I want you to understand that, Hannah.’

  She nodded. ‘I do. And I want you to understand that—that I know I’m not blameless.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s kind of you, but it’s not true. You tried to tell me this wouldn’t work, right from the start.’

  ‘I mean——’ She hesitated. ‘I mean,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘it was foolish of me to assume you’d—you’d agreed to a marriage of convenience. Thinking back, it seems impossible that I could have been so stupid.’

  Grant shrugged his shoulders. ‘That was no crazier than my ideas.’

  ‘I’m just glad you understand. I was afraid you might not see it my way, that you might—you might insist we—we——’

  ‘No.’ He laughed sharply. ‘No, I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a man who believes in forcing a woman into his bed.’

  ‘Then you agree—our situation is impossible.’

  He nodded. ‘It is.’

  Hannah let out her breath. There it was, out in the open. She’d been right, then. Grant was not only calmer this morning, he was back to being the practical, self-disciplined man he’d always been. Their marriage, such as it was, was finished. Relief, tinged by a bitter-sweet emotion, flooded through her.

  ‘I’m glad we don’t have to quarrel about it,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d see it this way, I hoped you would, but——’

  ‘I’ve already arranged to check out of the hotel. And I’ve arranged for a car to be delivered to us at ten.’

  ‘Ten? That’s not very much time, is it? We’d better start to pack.’

  Grant put his arm around her as she started to turn back towards the hotel.

  ‘The chambermaid’s taking care of that.’

  Hannah let out her breath as they began walking again. ‘Then—then I guess all that’s left is deciding what we’ll tell everyone back home.’

  ‘Not to worry.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I phoned Marilyn early this morning, and I cabled the office.’ His arm tightened around her. ‘Everything’s all taken care of, darling.’

  ‘But—what did you tell them?’ She looked up at him. ‘I thought about that—about what we could say to everyone—and—and I couldn’t come up with anything.’

  Grant smiled. ‘If practising law has taught me one valuable lesson,’ he said, ‘it’s that there’s nothing wrong in giving a truthful answer if the truth fits the situation.’

  Hannah looked at him again. Why did she have this strange feeling that they were talking about two different things?

  ‘Well, yes,’ she said slowly, ‘but considering the circumstances …’ She ran the tip of her tongue along her lips. ‘You couldn’t—you didn‘t—we can’t very well tell them the truth, Grant, not after what we told them about why we were getting married so quickly.’

  ‘That we’d fallen head over heels in love, you mean?’

  She nodded. How shabby the lie sounded now.

  ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘So what could you have said that would possibly——?’

  ‘I told you, darling. The truth.’

  Hannah came to a stop and swung to face him. ‘You keep saying that as if it’s a code word or something, but I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I told them that falling madly in love is wonderful——’

  ‘What?’

  ‘—so wonderful, in fact, that we’ve decided we can’t possibly make do with a one-week honeymoon.’

  She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘It’s simple. I made a mistake, thinking you’d be ready to consummate our marriage immediately.’

  She gaped at him. His face bore a cool, calm look, one that she had seen before, and it sent a chill through her, for it said, more clearly than words ever could, that the disagreement between them was far from over.

  ‘You mean, you made a mistake thinking I’d consummate it at all,’ she said, her eyes locked on his.

  Grant shook his head. ‘I meant exactly what I said.’ His voice was low-pitched and filled with assurance. ‘We really don’t know each other. Oh, we’ve worked together for several months——’

  ‘Five,’ Hannah said stupidly. ‘Five months, that’s all.’

  ‘Right. Five months. And for most of that time we barely looked at each other.’ He slid his arm around her shoulders and they began walking again. ‘You were Miss Lewis, I was Mr MacLean.’

  ‘Grant.’ She swallowed drily. ‘I still don’t follow you. We’ve already agreed, this was a mistake.’

  ‘Yes. Trying to make love to you yesterday was a mistake,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’ve no excuse to offer, Hannah. Hell, I figured it was enough that we want to go to bed with each other; I——’

  Hannah twisted out from his encircling arm. ‘Speak for yourself,’ she said tautly.

  A slow smile tilted across his mouth. ‘Don’t lie to me or yourself,’ he said softly.

  ‘I don’t lie! If you think I’m going to—to feed your monstrous ego by—by letting you say things that——’

  He caught her in his arms and kissed her before she could finish the sentence, his mouth dropping to hers so hard and fast that she hadn’t time to step back or even to turn her head away.

  Hannah slammed her fists against his chest. ‘Damn you,’ she hissed. ‘What do you think you’re going to——?’

  ‘Shut up, Hannah,’ he said fiercely. ‘Just shut the hell up and kiss me.’

  His mouth was cool, much cooler than the sun blazing down overhead, but it flamed against hers, as hot as the stroke of his hands along her spine and across her hips.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he whispered again, and suddenly she was, kissing him over and over, her mouth open to the taste of his, her arms slipping up to curl aroun
d his neck and bring his head down to hers.

  When they finally broke apart, her breathing was ragged. Grant looked at her for what seemed an eternity, and then he clasped her face in his hands.

  ‘The house is on a mountain,’ he said, his eyes on hers, ‘a million miles from anywhere.’

  Hannah’s world was spinning. ‘What—what house?’

  Grant smiled. ‘The one I’ve rented for us. I had to take it without seeing it, of course, but the agent who made the arrangements assured me that it’s perfect for honeymooners.’

  ‘Grant. Grant, please——’

  ‘It comes staffed with a cook and a housekeeper. And it’s very private, with a garden and a pool.’ He smiled. ‘But if we get tired of lazing around in the sun there are Mayan ruins not far away, and we can always drive to Cozumel or Cancun for entertainment.’

  ‘My God, Grant, what have you done?’

  He laughed softly. ‘I’m trying to tell you, darling. I’ve rented a house for us for the rest of the month.’

  Hannah’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Are you crazy? A house, for the month? But you said—you said you agreed, that our situation was impossible.’

  ‘And it is. We certainly can’t continue on the way we are. This marriage——’

  ‘It isn’t a marriage! We only entered into it to——’

  ‘You don’t have to remind me,’ he growled. ‘Believe me, Hannah, I know the reason for this union.’

  She let out a breath. ‘And—and you agreed when I said it had to end; you said——’

  ‘And it will,’ Grant said calmly. ‘Once you’ve met the terms of our contract.’

  She stared at him in disbelief. He had to be joking. He had to be! Surely he wasn’t going to try and hold her to their ugly arrangement?

  ‘It won’t be that impossible, Hannah.’ His hands slipped to her shoulders. ‘After a few days, we won’t be strangers to each other any more. You’ll feel more at ease with me——’

  ‘Is that all you think it will take to get me into your bed?’ She gave a sharp laugh. ‘I’m at ease with—with the man who does my dry-cleaning, but that doesn’t mean I’d——’