Marriage On Demand

by Susan Mallery

  She stared at it, stunned, then grinned. Now she had a new element to add to her fantasies. Black satin. Who would have guessed? The only walled room was at the far end of the loft. Through the open door she saw the sink and tub of the bathroom. The temperature in the loft was pleasant after the chill of the rain. A brilliant flash of light cut through the late afternoon.

  On its heels, thunder boomed, shaking the building. Rebecca jumped and grabbed for the railing. Instead of cold metal, her fingers encountered warm skin.

  Before she could pull back, he caught her hand in his. "Are you afraid of the storm?" he asked, his voice quiet after the thunder.

  She started shaking. It had very little to do with her body temperature and her damp clothes, and everything to do with his closeness. "A little," she murmured.

  Their gazes locked. Gray irises darkened like the coming of night. He gave away nothing, no emotions, no thoughts. It was like staring into the storm itself and only being able to imagine the destruction. His fingers slipped between hers and he tugged her closer to him. Her bare foot rested against the edge of his cowboy boots. "Don't be afraid." He reached up. With his free hand he brushed the moisture from one cheek.

  The tender gesture, so incongruous when compared to his reputation, made her want to snuggle against him.

  "I have a lightning rod on the other side of the house. We're perfectly safe."

  She blinked. So much for a romantic moment. "Gee thanks."

  "You're welcome. Stay right there, and I'll go get some towels."

  "Towels?" she echoed.

  He was already walking toward a large armoire on the far side of the bed.

  "To dry off. You'll probably want to get out of those wet things. I'll call for a tow truck, but it may take a while."

  "You want me to take off my clothes?"

  He opened the armoire and pulled out an armful of fluffy towels. "You are dripping on my floor."

  She glanced down, but the puddle beneath her made little sense. Naked. She was going to be naked in Austin Lucas's house. Her. Little Miss Ordinary was going to spend the afternoon naked with the devil. She didn't know whether to laugh out loud or run for the door.

  "Rebecca?"

  She stared at him, trying to focus. "Yes?"

  "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't fall and hit your head or anything, did you?"

  No, I'm just naturally stupid around you, she thought, knowing she could never admit that aloud. "I'm a little tired," she said, then realized it was the truth. This had been the longest and worst week of her life.

  He moved from the armoire to a closet concealed in the wall. With a push of his hand, a hidden door swung open. He reached inside and pulled out a white terry-cloth robe, then started walking toward her.

  She held her breath. When he was standing in front of her, he handed her everything. She glanced at the robe. It looked new. As if to confirm her guess, he reached for a sleeve and pulled off a tag dangling from one end.

  "A gift from a friend," he said by way of explanation.

  A woman friend, who else? She found it hard to believe a guy would give another guy a bathrobe. No, some foolish female had bought this for Austin expecting him to wear it and think of her.

  "The bathroom is through there," he said, pointing to the half-open door at the end of the loft. "You look cold. Maybe you should take a hot shower to warm up."

  Maybe you could kiss me and warm me up.

  Rebecca felt her eyes widen in panic. Oh, please, God, let me not have spoken that thought aloud. She held her breath and waited.

  Austin's eyes gave nothing away, and the expression on his face didn't change at all. Slowly she let her breath out. She'd only thought it. Danger. The man was pure danger.

  "Thanks for everything," she said. "I didn't mean to be such a bother."

  His gaze flickered over her face. "No problem. While you're taking a shower, I'll call for a tow. Then you can tell me what brought you out here in the first place."

  She nodded and continued to stare at his face. She wanted to see him smile again, but she couldn't think of anything funny to say.

  She felt a little push on her back, as if he was urging her to get on her way. She took one step, then another, heading for the bathroom. This was really happening to her. She was actually in his house. Austin's house. No one would believe this. Of course she wasn't going to tell anyone. Okay, maybe Travis and Elizabeth. She sighed and hugged the towels close to her chest. Maybe not even them. It was all too wonderful, too precious. A dream come true.

  As she reached the bathroom door, her memory kicked in. Austin had said he didn't know why she'd come by. In her stupor, she'd forgotten to tell him the reason for her visit. She shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't tell you why I stopped by," she said, turning back toward the center of the room. "I'm sure you heard that—"

  She stopped in mid-sentence and stared. Austin stood beside the large bed. He'd already stripped off his shirt and was in the process of unbuttoning his wet jeans. As she looked at him, his hands slowed. His chest was bare, gleaming in the dim afternoon light. Her gaze followed the sprinkling of hair on his chest as it arrowed down to the open waistband of his worn jeans. From where she was standing, it didn't look as if he was wearing anything underneath them.

  She swallowed hard and tried to speak. Nothing. She urged herself to turn and keep walking toward the bathroom, but her feet wouldn't budge. It would have taken an act of God to move her, and everyone knew Austin Lucas was only the devil.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  « ^ »

  Rebecca looked as stunned as a doe caught in headlights and as wet as a drowned rat. Her long dark hair hung in wet curls, draping over her shoulders and dripping onto the floor. She opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out. She tried again, made a squeaking noise, then fled into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her.

  Austin chuckled. He finished stripping off his wet jeans and tossed them onto the floor. He reached into the closet and pulled out another pair. He'd barely stepped into the first leg when he heard a loud shriek from the bathroom. After dropping his jeans, he sprinted to the door and knocked. "Rebecca? What happened?"

  There was a low moan from the other side of the door.

  "Rebecca? Damn it, open up. Did you hurt yourself?"

  "No. I just…"

  He heard footsteps and the door opened a crack. He could see part of her face and one brown eye. Mascara collected under her lower lashes. Any color on her face had long been washed away. Her dress hung damply from her shoulders. She was a mess. The one eye he could see closed briefly.

  "I just saw myself in the mirror. Now I know why you were smiling so much."

  The tension left his body. "Oh, that."

  Her eye opened. "Yeah, that. I'll just be a minute here, while I try to repair the damage."

  "Take your time."

  "I'm going to need it," she mumbled.

  Her gaze drifted down from his face to his chest, then lower. She blinked and her eye got bigger. At that moment he realized he'd dropped the dry jeans he'd been pulling on. Her gasp was audible. "I…I… Oh, heaven help me!"

  The door slammed shut.

  Austin shook his head and headed back across the room. He couldn't have been the first naked man she'd ever seen, but she'd been staring as if he was. He slipped into his jeans and buttoned the fly, then grabbed a shirt and shrugged it on. He didn't bother fastening it.

  His bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor as he made his way to the kitchen and started coffee. He rummaged around in a bottom cupboard until he found a bottle of whiskey, then poured a half inch into both coffee cups. If nothing else, the liquor would chase away the rest of her chill.

  The sound of the storm increased. Bolts of lightning arced across the darkening sky. Rumbles of thunder shook the building. He stared out the window at the rain and the flashes of light. Behind him he could hear the gurgle of the coffeepot and the faint sound of the showe
r. He tried not to picture the woman standing under the warm spray or the way she would slowly lather her slender body.

  He rubbed his hand over his face, but the action did nothing to chase away the tiredness. He'd been tired for days now, but he knew it had nothing to do with the hours he was putting in. Everything was changing and he didn't know how to make it stop.

  The coffeepot gave a last hiss and then was silent. Pipes rattled as the shower was turned off. He stepped back and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the door. He knew she would come out eventually. He also knew exactly how she would look, swimming in his oversize bathrobe. Her skin would be pale, her eyes large and questioning, her hair a damp mantle of silk. She would look at him and blush, then stare at the ground. He would be torn between telling her she was in no mortal danger and wanting to make every one of her ridiculous fantasies come true.

  Rebecca Chambers had a crush on him. It had been obvious from their second meeting when she'd managed to spill an entire pitcher of water at dinner one evening. He'd just dropped by to give Travis a message. Rebecca had been there, wearing one of her flowing floral-print dresses. With her loose clothing and headbands holding her curly dark hair off her face, she reminded him of a schoolgirl out of uniform for the day.

  He knew she wasn't a girl, but it was easier to think of her that way. Safer. She wasn't for him.

  It took another ten minutes, but at last the bathroom door opened a crack. He thought about calling out that he wasn't naked anymore but didn't. She had enough backbone for three warriors; she just hadn't figured it out yet. Besides, he liked teasing her and watching her blush. It was about the only innocent pleasure he had in his life.

  One bare foot eased out of the open door. He glanced at the pale skin and trim ankle. His muscles tensed as a familiar heaviness filled his groin. The dim light would make his condition harder for her to discern. Just as well – for both of them. If she kept on blushing around him, her face would be permanently red. If she didn't blush, he would be tempted to do exactly what she'd been thinking about.

  She took another step and this time cleared the bathroom door. She looked exactly as he had pictured, all soft and pale, overwhelmed by his robe. She'd rolled up the sleeves a couple of times so they only hung to her knuckles. The knotted belt trailed almost to her knees.

  "Do you want some coffee?" he asked, raising a mug.

  Her head jerked toward him. She'd washed away the rest of her makeup, and without cosmetics, she looked about seventeen. Her mouth was well shaped, slightly wide and normally tilting up at the corners. Now it twisted down on one side as she nibbled her lower lip.

  Her hair fanned out over her shoulders just as he'd pictured it. A flash of heat seared through his belly. For that second he wished she was like the widow in the next town. Jasmine visited him a couple of times a week. She was rich, lonely and bored. They made hot and fast love, seeking mutual release and no commitment. It had been easy to be with her, and easy to let her go. Three months before, they'd decided to end the affair. He didn't miss her, but parts of him missed her body. It would be a mistake to start something like that with Rebecca, even if her slender shape, so different from Jasmine's lushness, taunted him. Rebecca would be long and lean, a wildcat, he suspected. It was the innocence in her eyes that kept him from finding out.

  "Coffee would be nice," she said, her voice low and steady. She took a step toward him, then paused.

  He turned his back to her and poured the steaming liquid into both mugs. "Cream, sugar?"

  "Cream," she said, sounding a little closer.

  He grabbed a small carton from the fridge, added a splash then picked up the mug and held it out. She crossed the hardwood floor and took it.

  "Thanks. I'm sorry to be such a bother. Dripping all over everything. Thanks for the robe. I'm sure my clothes will dry quickly and then I can be on my way. Except for the car. But you said you'd call for a tow truck. I guess that'll take a little while, what with the weather and all. I really appreciate—"

  "Rebecca?" Slowly, so as not to alarm her, he turned toward her and leaned against the counter.

  She stopped chattering and glanced at him. Her eyes were dark and wide, her face flushed with embarrassment.

  "You're babbling."

  The flush deepened. "I know. I'm nervous."

  "Don't be." He reached over past her to the phone mounted on the wall. He drew the receiver to his ear and listened to the silence. Grimacing, he set it back in place, then motioned for her to follow him.

  "What is it?" she asked, trailing behind him as he headed for the living area.

  "Phone's out. Usually happens during bad weather."

  "You can't call the tow truck?"

  The panic in her voice almost made him smile. Almost. He didn't necessarily like scaring her, even if it wasn't a bad idea. Maybe if she was scared enough she would stop looking at him as if she'd already imagined them together in bed.

  He sat in the single chair opposite the sofa and set his mug of coffee on the upturned crate that served as an end table. She slowly lowered herself to the middle of the couch. The oversize cushions threatened to swallow her whole.

  "If I don't lose power, they should get the phone working in a couple of hours," he said, reaching over and clicking on a floor lamp.

  She clutched the mug tighter. "And if you do lose power?"

  "It means the whole line is down, and you'll be stuck here until tomorrow."

  Her mouth opened to form a perfect O but she made no sound.

  "I promise I don't bite," he said, leaning back in the chair.

  "I know." She sighed, sounding disappointed.

  Lightning flashed outside the windows, and thunder filled the room. Rebecca flinched at the loud noise, then took a big gulp of coffee. She sucked in a breath, then coughed. "There's liquor in this!"

  "So?"

  She raised her eyebrows and looked at him as if he'd just suggested they take a naked stroll through the local church. "What do you think you're doing by serving liquor?"

  "My mistake. I could have sworn you were over twenty-one At least twenty-two."

  She straightened in her seat and glared at him. The gold tones of the sofa contrasted with the pristine white of the borrowed robe and the dark brilliance of her curly hair. "I'll have you know I'm twenty-nine, but that isn't the point."

  "What is?" he asked mildly, his calm voice a contrast to her shrill tones.

  "That I … that you…" She drew a deep breath, then sagged back against the cushions. "You could have warned me."

  "I thought it might warm you from the inside."

  Like electricity seeking a conductor, her gaze sought his mouth. Oh, no. He knew exactly what she was thinking, damn her innocent little hide. He told himself she was a fool. He told himself to ignore her. It didn't help. He could practically taste her. His heartbeat quickened and his blood flowed hotter.

  She sipped her coffee, never taking her gaze from him. Most of the time he found her feelings for him faintly amusing. From a distance she was easy to take. But here, in the close confines of his loft, with the storm cutting them off from the rest of the world, it would be far too simple to take her up on her offer.

  He eyed her relaxed posture and the way his robe had slipped off one of her knees, baring her calf and part of her thigh. Her skin looked smooth. He knew it would be warm to the touch, soft and supple.

  He forced himself to look away and concentrate on the facts. One, she was a friend of Travis and Elizabeth's. He wouldn't hurt either of them for anything, and dallying with Rebecca was bound to upset them. Two, she wasn't his type. At twenty-nine she'd probably been involved with men before, but not men like him. He knew that. There was something about him. He didn't know if it was his money or his desire to stand outside and observe without always participating, but women seemed to find him attractive. The invitations came fast and furious. He was always careful about which ones he accepted. The rules of the game were simple – no emotional in
volvement, no promises, no commitment.

  He glanced back at his guest. Rebecca Chambers and those like her played for keeps.

  "Austin, I—"

  "Don't worry about it, honey. Just tell me why you're here."

  Her eyebrows drew together in a delicate frown. She reminded him of a porcelain doll come to life. He would do well to keep thinking of her as off-limits, he told himself as the collar of her robe parted slightly, allowing him a view of her pale throat.

  "Because of the fire."

  "Fire?" He jerked his thoughts back from their erotic journey and concentrated on what she was saying.

  "The one in town a few days ago. I'm sure you heard about it."

  "Just that a couple of old buildings burned down." He shrugged. "I've been working hard this week, and I haven't been to town."

  "Oh."

  She took another sip of her coffee, then set the mug on the table in front of her. As she bent forward, the robe gaped more, allowing him to see down the front. She had a small build, but the shape of her breasts was perfect. Creamy ivory crested in coral. His mouth grew dry. He clenched his hands into fists and wished to hell she would stay upright.

  "The children's home burned down."

  "What?" He sprang to his feet. "Is everyone all right?"

  "We're fine. We were lucky. It was during the day. The older kids were at school and the younger ones were at the park playing. No one was there, so there weren't any injuries. But we lost the whole building. All our supplies, the kids' toys, everything."

  "It's gone?" He stalked over to the large window taking up most of one living room wall. He didn't even have to close his eyes to picture the old two-story building. It had been built sometime in the thirties. Most of the bigger rooms had murals. He'd often stood for hours studying those paintings, wondering who the people in the pictures were and what the artists had been thinking as they'd painstakingly worked their art.

  He reached the window and braced his hands on the sill. He could feel the chill of the wind and the dampness from the storm. A large bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and the lights in the room flickered.