Don’t Call Me Sweetheart

by Jeanette Ward

  “Marry Stephan?” Christian couldn’t mask the surprise and confusion her confession evoked. Stephan? His best friend? But he had never mentioned that he had become serious with someone. Maybe it was a one-sided relationship. God, he hoped so but for the live of him he wasn’t sure why.

  “Yes, marry him! Don’t you think I’m capable of falling in love and wanting to get married for any reason other than blackmail?”

  “Are you in love with him?” The question was phrased in a deadly serious voice, one that told her Christian needed to hear the truth. But he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to hear that she had tried for months to love Stephan but couldn’t because thoughts of Christian kept her from it. Thoughts of being near to him, making memories with him, making love to him. All this had blocked her from the happiness she knew could be hers with Stephan. But Christian had forced her into this marriage, then forced himself on her while she was not in a position to defend herself. She wanted him to feel some of the pain of betrayal she felt. She wanted him to know what it was to want something that you couldn’t have.

  Oh my God! With fearful clarity she suddenly realized that it was she, Whitney Lane, famous romance author and world-class horse’s ass, who was pining away for something, or rather someone, that she couldn’t have. The enormity of the situation was crushing and as she tried to come to terms with the truth confronting her, she was no longer aware that she was being held naked in the lap of the man she had just realized she loved.

  Love. The one emotion that she had thought she would forever understand and express to others through her writings but never experience herself. But she did love Christian. She had from that first moment when she had looked up into his intense eyes and known that he was the man she had created in her imagination all those years ago as a silly teenager. He was everything she wanted…except he didn’t love her. He wanted her and he wanted what she had, just as all the others had but he didn’t love her. By admitting her feelings for him Whitney could understand the mixed-up emotions that had played havoc with her for the past months. And it was all his fault. It wasn’t enough that he had twisted her arm and made her marry him. Now he had managed to wrest away her heart and soul as well. He had taken it all, her dignity, her innocence and now the very core of her being. She couldn’t let him see that. He would use see her feelings as a weakness to be exploited to his gain, not the cherished gift a woman gives to but one man in her life.

  “Do you love him, Whitney?” The question was repeated, more forcefully this time and Christian caught her chin with his strong fingers, turning her head to face him so that he could read the expression in her eyes as she answered.

  “Yes! Yes, damn it, I love him! I’ve always loved him but you didn’t give me a chance to tell you that, did you? No, you just waltzed in here and crawled immediately into my bed, making me do things that I never wanted to do, then schemed to use my behavior to get what you wanted! Well, you certainly got everything you planned to, didn’t you? You have the house back. You married all the money you’ll ever need. Don’t look so surprised, I know you did your homework on me and that you knew the moment you hatched this little plan that you’d tapped the mother lode! And now you’ve even managed to take what was only mine to give. I was saving myself for my husband. Remember? My real husband, not some lying, manipulative son of a bitch who has to coerce a woman into bed, or should I say hot tub! You’re horrid and vile! You repulse me and I never want to see you again!”

  Whitney shoved so hard at Christian this time that she succeeded in gaining her release. With as much dignity as possible she rose from the water and stepped to the nearby bench where she had laid her robe, trying not to focus on the eyes that followed her every move. She had managed to pick the garment up but had yet to slip her arms into the sleeves when she heard him.

  “You have it all wrong, Whitney.” The deliberately calm words were deceptively unnerving. A splash behind her caused Whitney to whirl defensively, clutching the robe in front of her to shield her nakedness. Her eyes locked on Christian’s body as he too, rose from the sunken tub, water streaming down his magnificent frame. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. It was the first time she had actually seen his splendid body. God, he was beautiful! Her own traitorous libido responded immediately to the sight of the ruggedly handsome man pulling himself unashamedly up from the waters. Against her will, her eyes caressed his broad, bulging shoulders, the narrow waist that tapered to strong, muscular thighs. And there, where his thighs met, the hard shaft of his manhood rose in response to her own nakedness. Lord help her, she wanted him again. As much as she wanted to escape him forever, she wanted to feel him against her again, feel him move within her, take the pleasure he was so capable of giving to her.

  “I don’t,” she answered tremulously, backing away as far as she could go. Her bare bottom touched the cold glass of the window behind her and her face burned with shame knowing that should anyone be outside they would certainly be getting quite an eyeful right about now. But no one would be there, they were in the middle of a blizzard for heaven’s sake and right now she had more serious problems to worry about. Namely how to cool her own raging desires and escape with what remained of her pride.

  For his part, Christian was having no luck controlling his own aroused appetite for the woman who had become his wife. Her lush, beautiful body was calling to him to take her again, show her with action how he felt about her. But how did he feel about her? He knew he wanted her, his body had yearned for their coming together for months, never allowing him to be with another woman as thoughts of Whitney’s creamy skin and burnished hair would always intrude. But he needed more than that, wanted more than what they had. But what? Settling down scared the hell out of him. Hadn’t he planned to seek an annulment himself just so that he wouldn’t be burdened with the same woman the rest of his life? He had wanted Whitney out of the way but now that she had confessed to planning to do the same, he felt curiously defeated and empty. He wanted nothing more than to take her again into his arms and show her that he was capable of more than she accused him of. He wanted to erase all thoughts of Stephan from her heart, brand her with his own love over and over until she screamed out for him and only him.

  His love? What that what he was feeling? It couldn’t be! He was immune to such a weakness, he only wanted what was his and Whitney was just that. His wife, not Stephan’s. Wanting to distance himself from any further thoughts along those lines he pushed the water from his face so he was able to more clearly see the glorious, naked Venus before him.

  “There’s not going to be any annulment, Whitney,” Christian told her in a husky, emotion-filled voice as he advanced toward her. Whitney watched, frozen to the spot, as he came closer and closer. With just a few steps he had bridged the distance between them and stopped before her, his thick arms locking her into his wet embrace. He reached up to pull the robe from her numb fingers, letting it crumple into a heap on the floor. With that done and nothing to separate their flushed bodies, he told her, “You may as well know that I won’t allow anything, or anyone, to come between us from this day on, Whitney. You’re mine now and forever. I didn’t plan it this way. I didn’t want a wife, or responsibilities. But I won’t let you go now that we’re joined.”

  “You can’t stop me!” Whitney found her voice and bravado, at last. Her small hands pushed ineffectively against the granite hardness of his chest, slipping through the damp curls. “There’s nothing between us but your lust and greed! I don’t want you near me!”

  Ignoring the sharp barbs Christian instead trailed his hands up and down her upper arms, laughing as the soft caress was immediately reflected by the erection of her rose-colored nipples. “I see some parts of your body haven’t yet been appraised of these adamant feelings you profess to have toward me!”

  Whitney’s face burned with humiliation and she started to tell him just where he could go but as she tilted her face upward to do so he seized the opportunity and brought
his lips crushing down on hers, drowning her with deep, penetrating kisses that made her knees buckle before the destructive barrage on her senses. Christian scooped her up into his arms effortlessly, never once breaking the hungry assault on her lips and carried her back into the house.

  Once there he raised his head, raw, carnal desire branding her as his eyes traveled the length of her as she lay within his arms. Whitney’s protests had evaporated at the first touch of his lips against her own, just as she had feared they would and she was powerless to stop the flow of desire that coursed through her now in answer to his. This time she wasn’t asleep, or dreaming. This time she would have to look herself in the mirror the next day and know that she could have tried to stop him from making love to her but she hadn’t wanted him to. She was past wanting him to stop, past caring about anything other than finding the pleasurable release only he could bring her.

  Seeing his own raging passion reflected in Whitney’s brilliant green eyes, Christian wasted no time carrying her up the stairs and into her bedroom, the same room he had been banished from just a few short days before. It didn’t matter. He had made her forget that she hated him, set her on fire with a need that only together they could quench.

  As he stretched out above her, his own fevered flesh pressed tightly against hers, he forgot all the promises he had made to himself about not letting one woman become too important to him. He wanted to give Whitney such pleasure that she would forever forget about Stephan, or any other man and have eyes for only her husband.

  He lavished fiery kisses along the white column of her slim neck, stopping to suck gently at the sensitive area directly below her ear and raising a tiny love mark there before continuing his campaign to conquer her body and soul by dipping his lips to the smooth hollow at the base of her neck where he could feel her wildly beating pulse as he nuzzled the spot. Her hands entangling themselves in his thick, black hair encouraged him to leave that bit of succulent flesh and concentrate instead on her swelling breasts, which he eagerly did. From one crested peak to the other, he repeatedly sucked and licked, kneaded and teased each hard, dusky nub until Whitney rolled back and forth with want, begging him to end the sweet agony burning her alive. Determined that she would never forget this night, he pushed her breasts together with the heels of his palms, laving both nipples at the same time and Whitney lost control.

  “Christian, oh God! Please, I need you. Now!”

  “Not yet, love,” Christian whispered into the soft flesh of her silken belly as he showered it with burning kisses. Whitney was mindless with desperate desire, blindly begging him to put an end to the pleasurable torture. Her hips surged upward in a silent plea for him to enter her and he did but not as she expected. The unfamiliar sensation of Christian’s warm, wet tongue invading the soft flesh between her legs caused Whitney to erupt with throbbing spasms of delight immediately, putting an end, at least temporarily, to the yearning ache she suffered. For a few seconds, the succulent sensations were able to carry her past herself, past Christian, to a place where she could feel loved. Feel whole.

  Before she could recover Christian hooked his arms beneath her knees, preparing her for his entry. He did so swiftly, plunging into her with a fierceness that made Whitney cling wildly to him, calling out his name as he drove himself into her yielding body repeatedly. She tunneled her fingers through his hair, matching perfectly each spearing thrust, feeling the cataclysmic spiral of intense tension begin to build once again deep within her. Christian’s breathing was ragged against her ear, as he sought to give her more pleasure than she could endure. When he slipped a hand between them and rubbed her nub Whitney gave in to the pleasure, her body clasped tightly around his as the wild convulsions overtook her. In the next instant, Christian cried out as his body was racked with violent tremors and he collapsed, shuddering atop her.

  Whitney lay cocooned in the warm, splendorous afterglow of their lovemaking. It had been the experience she had always dreamed it would be and more. The fact that her lover was a man she simultaneously loved and disliked was of little importance at the moment. There would be plenty of time to sort out her warring emotions later. For now, she wanted to bask in the wondrous feelings she had discovered her body was capable of. She felt no guilt, no remorse. That would come later. It was enough to know that for this moment in time she had become one with the man who unknowingly held her heart in his hands. Sadly, she thought, it might be the only time. There was more to a relationship other than appeasing long-suppressed lusts. At least, she needed much more, so much more.

  Christian rolled over, pulling Whitney with him to lie cradled against his shoulder, her cheek resting on his chest where she could hear the hammering of his heart. She wished it beat with the same love she felt, then in the next moment changed her mind. She wouldn’t wish the hell she found herself in on anyone, not even Christian. Unrequited love was the cruelest form of torture. It never went away, it would overshadow all future chances at happiness and eventually it would encase a victim’s heart in layers of emotional chains from which there would be no escape.

  Lying next to Christian, listening to his breathing return to a steady, slow cadence Whitney wondered if that would be her fate. She had fallen in love with her husband, knowing that he had not married her out of love and would probably never return hers. No man ever had, except Stephan and that was only because he didn’t know the real Whitney Lane. Once it was discovered that she had more to offer than herself, no one had been able to see past their greed and reach out to the real Whitney. Christian was no different. He wanted what she alone could give him, or so he thought. He wanted his inn back and, of course, he had wanted sex tonight. She imagined that he probably wanted it every night. Well, now he had gotten both. And thanks to her inability to deny him once he laid a hand on her, he was probably thinking how convenient it would be not to have to recruit someone else to take his wife’s place in his bed. God, why did she have to be so weak when it came to him?

  “Whitney,” her name was a soft whisper against her hair, “I’ve been such a fool.”

  What was he talking about, Whitney wondered.

  “I thought I would only find happiness with many women, never with the same one. I was wrong. You’re all I could ever possibly want.”

  Want. Not love, just want. Whitney’s fears were confirmed at the stark word he had chosen to describe his feelings for her. She had always been wanted, never loved. She had been right to include him with the others from her past.

  “I…” Whitney started to answer him but was stopped by his finger pressed against her lips, silencing the words ready to spill forth.

  “Don’t say anything, sweet. We can talk all we want in the morning. Right now I think we both could use some sleep.” He pulled the coverlet up and over their shoulders and tucked Whitney tightly against his side, then reached to turn out the light. She felt the barest pressure of his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. There would be no sense arguing at this point. They were the only ones there. It wasn’t as if she would be caught in an embarrassing situation come morning. He was right, they might as well get some sleep. They had much to discuss and she was so tired. As the storm outside raged on into the night, a calmness invaded the bedroom of the newlyweds replacing the fiery tempest they had ridden through together.

  Chapter Twelve

  The incessant droning of the weather channel on the police scanner she had purchased for just such an occasion woke Whitney. She lay still for several moments, then turned on her side, pulling the sheets around her as she did so.

  Lord, she was naked. And she had made love with Christian, not once but twice. The events of the previous night all rushed back to her and she sat straight up in bed, looking wildly about for him. He was nowhere in sight. Thank God. Maybe she would have a chance to dress before he returned.

  She swung her slim legs over the side of the bed and raced to the bathroom. A quick check told her he wasn’t in the sitting room either, so
she locked both doors and dropped the sheet to the floor next to the pile of wet towels Christian had left. With nothing on but her mortification she stared into the wide green eyes of the woman in the mirror. Christian’s woman. That’s what she was now.

  She was in a fine fix now wasn’t she? Not only was she married to a man she had known for less than two weeks of face to face interactions and that was counting two days in New York last spring, she had allowed herself to fall hopelessly in love with him, deceived him into believing she was someone she wasn’t, blown all chances of starting a life with a truly good and decent man.

  How had this happened? What had she done to deserve such a lopsided dose of poetic justice? She spent her life writing about the tangled lives of others, she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of such a tale herself.

  With a deep sigh that summed up the fact that she had no answers to any of her questions she stood and turned the handle of the bathtub, delighted to see that they still had running water thanks to the generator she had ordered installed before the start of winter. She hadn’t wanted her guests to suffer the discomforts the loss of electricity could bring. But she wasn’t sure how long she could count on the generator to power the inn. Maybe Christian would know, he certainly thought he knew everything else.

  Whitney eased herself into the steaming water, letting the unaccustomed soreness in her limbs melt away for a few minutes before ducking her head under the surface and working a good lather into her long tresses. She scrubbed at her body too, hoping to erase Christian’s touch from her soft skin. It didn’t work.

  Abandoning the tactic, she finished her bath and dressed in as many layers of clothes to hide herself under as possible without appearing ridiculous. Checking the mirror she was satisfied that if Christian should lay a hand on her today she was well insulated in her snowman outfit from the effects she normally suffered. Between the white turtleneck and the heavy black sweatshirt she pulled on top of it, gray long johns covered by a pair of matching sweatpants and the thick socks tucked inside the goofy cartoon slippers the Walstens had given her for Christmas, Whitney couldn’t have felt less sexy. She could only hope Christian would agree. She caught her damp curls in a loose ponytail and purposely left off her makeup. She wasn’t going to give Mr. Heaven Hands a reason to think of anything other than talking today.