Accidental Wife

by Day Leclaire

  Jonah threw down bis fork. If his brother were here now, he'd strangle the smart-mouthed little—

  "What did you say?" Nikki asked.

  "I said, I've had enough."

  "I'm sorry. Don't you like it?" She glanced down at her own plate of linguini. "Too rich, huh?"

  "Actually, I've changed my mind. I haven't had enough." He shoved back his chair. "But I'm about to change that. Right now."

  She tilted her head to one side, the candlelight catching in the ruby tones of her hair. "You want seconds?"

  "No. I want firsts."

  Her brows drew together in delicious bewilderment. "I don't understand."

  "You will." He circled the table, and without further ado, lifted her into his arms. "Catching on yet?"

  "Jonah! What—what are you doing?"

  "What I would have done that first night if I hadn't been so tired. What I should have done three nights ago, if I hadn't gotten so involved in playing the noble husband." The bedroom door blocked his path and he kicked it open. "And what I'm going to do right now because it's what we've both wanted from the instant we met."

  He tossed her onto the mattress, waiting for the inevitable argument.

  She didn't say a word.

  He waited for anxiety to turn her eyes the color of amethysts. They slowly changed color, but it was passion that lurked in the violet depths, not fear.

  He waited for her to flee. Instead, she remained in the middle of the bed.

  Her very inaction sealed her fate. He approached, unable to take his eyes from her. Her skin gleamed like ivory, while her hair was a vivid splash of darkest crimson against the black down comforter. His gaze never left her as he ripped off his shirt. His shoes came next, then his belt. Finally, he reached for the zip on his pants. Her eyes grew huge and the tip of her tongue appeared, skating across her bottom lip.

  He wanted that lip, he decided. He wanted it for an appetizer. He wanted to nibble on it, to sink his teeth into its fullness before exploring within. And once he'd temporarily sated himself with her mouth, he wanted to taste his way downward, sampling every inch of her, course after delicious course. It would be the most magnificent feast he'd ever consumed. And for dessert, he'd return to the sweetness of her mouth.

  "To hell with linguini," he muttered, settling onto the bed beside her. "Nothing can be more satisfying than this."

  Nikki stared at him in utter astonishment. After three full days of endless confusion and doubt, it took a split second to realize the undeniable truth. Not only did she love Jonah, she trusted him. Totally. Implicitly. Without reservation. And with that knowledge came the most amazing sense of freedom. Joy welled within. She could tell him. She could tell him everything and he'd understand.

  He gathered her close, resting half on top of her, his hands sinking into her hair. "Speak now, wife," he muttered, catching her lower lip between his teeth. "Or forever hold your peace."

  "I'd rather hold you," she whispered. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returned the passion of his kiss. Tomorrow they would talk. But right now, there were more important matters to take care of. They had the give and take of their latest merger to work out.

  Removing her clothing became a serious negotiation. The zipper of her skirt voiced a loud argument as he drew it downward. Each button of her blouse needed to be coaxed free of its hole. Her lacy garters had to be convinced to release their tight embrace on her silk stockings. And the hooks and eyes of her bra had to be rescued from their enforced closure. But she found that having a brilliant negotiator for a husband had certain advantages. With due patience and diligence, he overcame every dilemma.

  And the end result was the most satisfying she'd ever known.

  She lay within the safe circle of his arms, coming alive beneath his touch, on fire for him and for him alone. And she discovered the unassailable truth of his earlier observations. Making love was a partnership. For everything she gave him, she received tenfold in return. The more she opened to him, the more he opened to her. To offer a delicate kiss had him returning it with a deeper one. Supping her hands across the endless expanse of his chest led to his painting lazy circles around the rosy tips of her breasts. And when she shyly initiated a more intimate caress, he unlocked passionate secrets that had been trapped within her for years, giving her a pleasure she'd never before experienced.

  "Do you trust me?" he demanded at one point.

  Tears welled into her eyes and she visibly fought to control them. "I—I haven't dared to," she admitted in a broken voice. Slowly, she looked at him. "Until now."

  He cradled her close. "Are you sure? Very sure?"

  "Yes," she whispered. "I'm positive."

  And with her words still lingering between them, he mated his body with hers, taking her with exquisite care and tenderness. It was as though he sealed her pledge of trust with his body and offered her love's ultimate completion as his return promise. Without fear or hesitation, without thought to what the morrow might bring, she gave herself to him. She gave all of herself, holding nothing back, discovering the full height and depth of love.

  And when ecstasy finally came, it was within the sheltering embrace of her husband, the one man she'd love to the end of time.

  Nikki lay quietly as dawn lit up the sky with the promise of a new day. And in that moment of earth's gradual awakening, she listened to her inner voice, waiting for the doubt and uncertainty to return. But nothing disturbed the smooth tenor of her thoughts. She felt now as she had last night. If there was one man in the world she could trust, it was Jonah.

  Rolling onto her side to face him, she discovered him already awake and watching her with an unnerving intensity. "Good morning," she whispered.

  "Waking up with you in my bed is nice," he murmured in a sleep-husky voice. "The only thing better would be waking up with you in my arms."

  She smiled and snuggled closer, happy to accommodate. He punched the pillows behind him, shifting to recline against them. She nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder and threaded her fingers through the thick mat of hair covering his powerful chest. His heart beat slow and steady beneath her palm.

  Gently, he cupped the side of her face with his large hand, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone. She leaned into the tender caress.

  It was time for the truth.

  "Jonah?"

  "I'm here, sweetheart."

  She took a deep breath, awed at the ease with which the words came. "I need your help."

  His thumb never stopped its calm, soothing motion, but the tiny tremor that shook his hand told her a very different emotion raged within. "How can I help?" he asked with gruff simplicity.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Nikki? Are you home?" Jonah crushed the paper in his fist, frustrated anger darkening his eyes. "Sweetheart?"

  "I'm here."

  She appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, dressed in a black silk slip and damned little else. If it had been any other time, he'd have snatched her into his arms and returned to the bedroom with her. There he'd have removed that bit of nothing and made love to her until they were both too exhausted to move, think or even speak. Especially speak. As it was, he brushed past her, grabbed a thick terry robe and held it out.

  "Put this on. We need to talk."

  A warm smile tugged at her full, kissable mouth, tempting him almost beyond endurance. "I can't talk to you wearing my slip?" she teased.

  "It depends on the kind of talking you want to get done."

  He tucked the newspaper beneath his arm and helped her on with the robe. Jerking the front closed over the plunging black neckline, his knuckles scraped over her full breasts and he stilled, caught between desperate desire and the need to give her the bad news. As much as he'd like to delay the inevitable, they had too much to accomplish if they were to avert disaster.

  Sweeping her hair from beneath the collar of her robe, he gathered a handful of the silken tresses in his fist and contented himself with a prolonged kiss. Jus
t like every other time he touched her, she melted into his arms, her lush curves settling against him in a way guaranteed to send his blood pressure through the roof. And just like every other time he touched her, she gave totally of herself, never holding anything back. Reluctantly, he ended the embrace.

  She blinked up at him. Her eyes—as soft and velvety as pansies—expressed absolute faith and confidence. He stifled a groan. Heaven help him. When his wife decided to trust him, she didn't bother with half measures. It was all or nothing.

  He wrapped an arm around her and headed for the kitchen. "Let's fix some coffee."

  She lifted an eyebrow, a hint of concern creeping into her expression. "Coffee or something stronger?"

  "I'd prefer something stronger. But we'll stick with coffee." Moving with brisk efficiency, he dumped ground beans into the filter, added the water and hit the start button. "You can even have sugar with it."

  "So the worst has happened," she murmured.

  "Yeah, it happened." He dropped the newspaper onto the tile counter. It was one of the more disreputable rags floating around the city. "LJB Award Nominee Swindled Family Out Of Inheritance!" the headline screamed.

  She squared her shoulders and faced him. "Am I fired?"

  "How can you even ask such a question?" he snapped.

  "You have to protect International Investment. I understand that." She responded with such cool logic, be wanted to grab hold and kiss her until her teeth rattled. Or until she regained her senses.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets to quell the impulse, settling for an unsatisfactory glare of annoyance to express his irritation. "International Investment will ride out this particular storm just fine without any noble gestures on your part."

  She set her rounded chin at a stubborn angle. "I'll tender my resignation effective immediately," she said as though he hadn't spoken. "And as soon as I've dressed, I'll go in and clear out my desk."

  "Stop it, Nikki."

  "No, it's all right. I knew this could happen when I refused to submit to Tucker's blackmail scheme."

  "Refusing to have any further dealings with that man was one of the few intelligent decisions you've made since we met. And before you ask, the other was confiding in me."

  "If s not your problem," she insisted. "I'll handle it."

  "You asked for my help the other night, remember? I told you then I'd deal with Tucker."

  She bowed her head. "I know you did your best."

  He bit back an exclamation of fury. She was determined to play the tragic martyr and he knew of only one way to snap her out of it. "What happened to all that talk of trust?" he questioned caustically. "Or was that all it was—just talk?"

  As he hoped, her head jerked up, her eyes flashing with violet fire. "It wasn't just talk!"

  "Then trust me, damn it. I'll stop that piece of slime if it's the last thing I do."

  "But what about in the meantime? How long can you protect me if International Investment starts losing customers? What are you going to say to your clients? Yes, she swindled her relatives, but she won't do it to you?"

  "You didn't swindle anyone!" he roared.

  The momentary silence was deafening. Then the coffee machine gave a final, inelegant burp and she offered a watery laugh. "Thank you for your support."

  "My pleasure." He filled three mugs, automatically setting two in front of Nikki. Shooting her an assessing glancer he wondered how best to break the next bit of news. "Sweetheart..."

  She kept her gaze fixed on the sugar, determinedly spooning it into her mugs. "There's more, isn't there?"

  He sighed. "I'm afraid so."

  She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. "Tell me the rest."

  "The LJB nomination committee has requested that you attend a special session to determine whether you should be dropped as a candidate."

  "When?"

  "Nine, Monday morning."

  "Three days." She caught her lip between her teeth. "Who brought the charges? Or is that a ridiculous question?"

  "They refused to say. But I think we both know who's responsible."

  A fine line appeared between her drawn brows. "I can't do this, Jonah. I can't go before those people and talk about my past. It was difficult enough telling you." He could see the panic she fought so hard to suppress. "They're strangers. They'll never understand."

  "We'll make them understand."

  She stilled. "We?"

  "I'll be right there beside you."

  He'd surprised her with that one. Hope dawned in her eyes. "You're going?"

  "You're my wife. Of course I'm going. I wouldn't let you deal with this alone."

  Words eluded her. She shoved her coffee aside and covered her face with her hands.

  He slammed his mug to the counter and pulled her to her feet, catching her in a rib-cracking embrace. "I have it on excellent authority that women prefer conducting these crying jags in private," he murmured against the silky top of her head. "But I refuse to leave you alone right now. So I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

  "I don't want to be left alone," she responded in a muffled voice. "Please hold me."

  "I'm not going anywhere," he assured her.

  "Yet."

  His mouth compressed at the reminder. They'd both been careful to avoid a discussion of the future and he had no intention of correcting that oversight. At least, not now. "That's right," he said at last. "I'm not going anywhere. Yet."

  "Jonah," she whispered, "I'm afraid."

  He swung her up into his arms, cradling her close. Her head drooped against his shoulder like a delicate rose with a damaged stem. She felt so fragile, so vulnerable. The instinctive urge to protect gripped him— the unshakable need to defend her from harm. And like a feral animal determined to keep his mate safe, he strode toward the sanctuary of his lair.

  Monday arrived all too soon as far as Nikki was concerned. Choosing an outfit to wear before the committee—or "inquisitors" as Jonah insisted on dubbing them—became a major undertaking. The minute she plucked a garment from the closet, Jonah categorically rejected it.

  "Too depressing," he pronounced, tossing aside the severe black suit she'd selected. "Besides, it makes you look guilty."

  "What do you want me to wear?" she demanded in exasperation. "My wedding outfit? That's about all I have left."

  "It's a thought. Wait a sec. Aha." He yanked a stylish ivory suit and matching silk blouse from the closet. "Here we go. This, gold jewelry and heels."

  She stared at him in disbelief. "You're not serious, are you? Jonah, this isn't a business suit. I bought it to wear last Easter."

  "Exactly. I want them to take one look at you and think, 'innocent'. And this outfit will do it."

  "In case you've forgotten, I am innocent," she muttered.

  He turned, the look on his face instantly silencing her. "I haven't forgotten a thing. And once the LJB committee has seen and heard you, they won't have any doubts, either." He handed her the suit. "Put this on. Oh, and leave your hair down."

  "Anything else?"

  "Yeah." His eyes blazed with suggestive green highlights. "Make sure you wear silk and lace underwear, stockings with those sexy little seams in the back, and garters."

  She planted her hands on her hips. "That's supposed to make the committee think I'm innocent?"

  "No." He dropped a swift, hard kiss on her mouth. "The silk and lace is for me. The committee will just have to sit there and wonder what you have on under all that soft lamb's wool. But I'll know."

  A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "You're impossible." She found it incredible that she could find anything humorous at a time like this. Thanks to her husband, she had. She peeked up at him. He never ceased to amaze her.

  "It'll be our little secret," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Anytime I start to lose my temper, I'll think of popping those flimsy little garters. It'll wreak havoc with my self-control, but it should keep me from blowing a fuse."

  "Great. And what am I supposed
to think about?"

  He leaned down, nestling his mouth close to her ear. "You think about what I'm wearing under my suit."

  Her eyes gleamed with laughter. "You have something hidden in there I don't know about?"

  "Could be..." His grin was wickedly sensual. "But I'm not telling. You'll just have to find out for yourself after the meeting."

  "You're going to make me wait that long? No fair!" she protested.

  "Ah, but there's method to my madness. Anytime you feel panicky, I want you to think about what it might be."

  "And that's supposed to calm me?" He couldn't know how he affected her if he thought that. She couldn't look at him, touch him, listen to the deep, rough tones of his voice without a desperate need sweeping through her.

  "If nothing else, it should distract you." He gave her a gentle swat on her backside. "Get dressed, wife. I'll fix breakfast."

  "One cup of coffee this morning," she requested. At his questioning look, she added, "I'm jittery enough without the extra caffeine."

  "Beauty combined with intelligence. We can't lose."

  His comment helped her get through breakfast and the cab ride to the office complex where the nomination committee had scheduled the meeting. The first attack of butterflies didn't hit until they entered the elevator. To her surprise, Jonah must have felt something similar. Ignoring their fellow passengers, he reached out and captured her hand.

  "White?" he asked.

  She stared in bewilderment. "What?"

  "The garters. Are they white?"

  She blushed at the amused sidelong looks they received. "Ivory," she whispered. "With pink rosebuds."

  He closed his eyes and grinned. "Oh, yeah."

  She peeked over at him. "Boxers?"

  "Not telling."

  A picture of Jonah leaping into bed in a pair of Santa-festooned shorts flashed through her mind and she fought to suppress a giggle.

  The elevator door opened just then, and squeezing her hand, Jonah forged a path from the back of the car. "We're on," he warned. "Be confident. We're in the right here."

  "Okay." As they approached the reception area, she asked softly, "Bikini briefs?"