Mail-Order Cinderella (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 2)

by Kathryn Jensen

  Trembling, she dropped her forehead against his chest and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Please don’t patronize me.”

  “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Julie. You claim you want babies, not sex. But why not relax and enjoy the process of getting pregnant? You aren’t afraid of me anymore, are you?”

  “Of course not, I—well, not you so much as—” How could she explain? She hardly understood her own reluctance to get close to a man. Any man.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured. “And I know I said we should wait. But I want you something wicked, woman. If someone harmed you in the past, I’m sorry. But that man isn’t me. Do you understand?”

  She nodded slowly, then dared to look up at him.

  As Tyler watched her eyes dilate and fill with emotion at his touch, his heart went out to her. “I’ll take it slow,” he promised. “You tell me if I do anything that frightens you or that you don’t enjoy. Agreed?”

  “Yes,” she breathed weakly.

  He wondered—was it coincidence or by design that his relationships had always been with women who didn’t require trust, but casually accepted propositions from men of wealth or pleasing physiques? Maybe it had been a comfort to him, knowing they’d easily move on to their next affair after he was out of their lives. They never threatened his freedom, and he never felt sorry for them when he stopped calling because he was certain they wouldn’t miss him.

  But now, holding this fragile creature called Julie, he asked himself if that sort of shallow, selfish relationship would ever be enough for him again. He wanted to comfort, caress, make love to her slowly, taking days…weeks if necessary to teach her the ultimate joys of being loved by a man. Moreover, he believed in the depths of his soul that he was the only man for the job. Why that was, he had no idea. He only sensed that she wanted him to show her the way.

  But he also was sharply aware of the delicacy of her emotional state. So many changes were rushing into her life—new people, a different place to live, an unfamiliar lifestyle. He would have to take her mind off all that, then give her only another taste of the sexual awakening awaiting her. Just as much as she could handle at one time.

  The problem was, he didn’t know if he could measure himself out that way. He wanted every inch of her…now! He was starving for her. The gentle kisses of a new lover and long moments spent dreaming in each other’s arms weren’t going to satisfy his own ravenous hunger.

  “Forget about the dress for now,” he said tightly, brushing his lips against her softly mussed hair. “Come over here with me. Let’s talk.”

  She lifted her head from his shirt front as he turned her toward the bed. “You want to do it now, don’t you?” she whispered, so faintly he could barely hear her.

  His smile was tight. “I would like very much to make love to you,” he admitted. The next part was hard as hell. “But I won’t.”

  She looked up at him, crushed. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not ready.”

  “I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Contrary to what I recently believed, one seems to have little to do with the other. At least in your case. Here,” he said, patting the bed, “sit down.”

  She obeyed, but he could feel the trembling of her body through the mattress.

  “Now tell me what I’ve done to terrify you so? Or is it all men who affect you this way?”

  She took a deep breath, let it out, drew another. As though denying a secret terror, she moved her head slowly from side to side.

  “A partnership of any kind requires communication.” He took her hand in his and pulled it gently into his lap. “If we’re going through with this marriage, each of us has to understand the other person’s needs, fears, desires…the whole enchilada. If we go into this blindly, it just won’t work.”

  “That makes perfect sense,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “But I’ve never talked about…about this sort of thing with anyone, not even with another woman.”

  He frowned. “About sex?”

  She shrugged helplessly, and he could tell how difficult this was for her. They were breaking down barriers that had controlled her entire life. She blinked away the beginnings of tears, but her eyes remained moist, troubled.

  “I don’t like thinking about some things. Like how strong a man is and how physically weak a woman is…at least someone like me…and how there’s…well, there’s just no way to stop him from—” She’d been on a roll, but suddenly stopped as if she’d hit a wall.

  “From what, Julie? From hurting you?”

  She tilted her head to one side and looked up at him, almost accusingly. A sharp pain sliced through him. Damn the man who’d done this to her.

  “Were you raped, Julie?”

  “N-no,” she stammered, squeezing his hand as if to reassure him. At least, it wasn’t that. “Not me, not…it wasn’t like that. I just learned not to trust men because—” She sniffled and wiped tears away with the back of her free hand. “It was my first year of college. I hadn’t dated much at all in high school, mostly because word got around among the boys that I wouldn’t let them do the things they wanted to do to girls.” She smiled wanly.

  “Typical so far,” he commented, giving her a reassuring hug. “When adolescent male hormones flow, we can be a darn persistent sex. Go on.”

  “The dorm I was assigned to in college was girls-only, but the boys’ dorm was just across the quad. We took turns throwing parties. Most of the girls were no more experienced than I was, but they were ready for a little adventure. And dry parties just weren’t cool.”

  “So the beer ran freely,” he guessed.

  “Yes, and after some of the girls in my dorm got sloshed pretty thoroughly, the boys talked them…us…into playing a game. They turned out the lights in one room and one girl was sent into it. Then a boy went in and said something silly to her. She had to guess whose voice she heard even though he tried to disguise his voice. It was just a stupid game, really, and at first seemed so harmless.”

  “I see.” He was pretty sure he knew where this so-called game was headed, but he let her tell her story. She had to relieve herself of past nightmares, and if this was what it took the time would be well spent.

  “Well,” she continued hesitantly, “then it became a kissing game. You know, she had to guess which of the boys was kissing her. Again, I didn’t really see the harm in it, but when one of the boys decided I should identify something other than his lips, I got frightened and left.”

  In spite of her serious tone, Tyler chuckled. “I’m sorry, I know that must have shocked and terrified you. But I can just see some drunken college kid stumbling into a dark room and dropping trou.”

  Julie silenced him with a stern look, which softened when he shrugged apologetically.

  “I guess my point is,” he said, “you were using good sense when you took off.”

  She nodded solemnly. “The next morning, three of the girls from the party weren’t in their rooms. They were in the infirmary. They’d been assaulted and raped. They were bruised and terribly injured, physically and emotionally. I was horrified by the violence and assumed the police would act quickly. But my friend Eleanor, one of those who’d been hurt, told me nothing was being done. The police claimed the girls had willingly entered into a sex game with the boys, and it was unlikely a case of rape could be supported.”

  Tyler wasn’t shocked by her story; he’d heard of similar incidents and they sickened him, making him glad he’d never taken part in that sort of thing. Mostly, he was relieved to learn Julie hadn’t been one of the unlucky three. “So no more parties for Julie?”

  “Right,” she said. “And I decided dating people I didn’t know wasn’t safe. The only problem was, I’m not a very outgoing person so even after I graduated and started working I didn’t make a lot of friends.”

  “So you remained a virgin in search of a baby but not necessarily a man.”

 
“Something like that,” she agreed with a self-conscious laugh. “I tried rooming with a couple of other women, but they were forever trying to set me up with men. And their idea of great dates for me were guys I wouldn’t share a ten-minute conversation with.”

  He thought for a moment. “All men aren’t monsters, Julie. How about we take some time to get to know each other. When you’re ready to take the next step, you tell me. Before the wedding or after. I promise I’ll be patient.”

  For a long while she just looked at him, delving into his eyes as if searching for the hidden lie, the trick. But when she found nothing to alarm her, she smiled tentatively. “All right.”

  Grateful she’d agreed to at least let him try to get close to her, Tyler stretched out on his side and pulled a pillow down for himself, another for her. He patted hers, and, after a second’s hesitation, she stiffly lay back on it and stared up at the ceiling. Clearly, he had a long way to go.

  Julie tried, she really tried to let the muscles in her body unknot. She wanted to trust Tyler, but wanting something and actually feeling it were two different things when you were fighting a lifetime of habit. She closed her eyes and listened to him talk to her.

  “The Amish have a practice called bundling.” He spoke in a mellow voice, almost as if he were calming an anxious child. “The engaged couple sleep in the same bed, but remain clothed. I always imagined it might be a good way to begin to feel comfortable with another person—lying alone together on a soft bed, talking, sharing dreams, learning about fears, interests, hopes for the future without the pressure of sex.”

  “Are you suggesting we do that?” she asked warily.

  “Would sharing this bed with me, fully clothed just as we are now, frighten you?”

  “No,” she admitted, giving him an appreciative smile, “I don’t believe it would.”

  Six

  Their first night, she wore her favorite oversize shirt and cozy leggings; he came to bed in loose-fitting sweats and was endearingly careful not to touch her at all. They lay on their backs at opposite edges of the mattress, staring up at the white ceiling, talking in whispers about whatever came to their minds. She told Tyler things in the dark she’d never spoken of to another living soul. Sweet confidences she’d barely allowed herself to think.

  He confided in her, too. His torn feelings over his role in the Fortune clan. His fear that something might stop construction of the hospital—like the investigation into his foreman’s death. He hated waiting in lines and loved dogs. He never hesitated to take on a physical challenge that carried him up a sheer cliff on ropes or down a black-diamond trail on skis, but he had an unreasoning fear of spiders. Tyler never said so, but Julie was sure no other women had heard these confessions from him.

  Knowing he trusted her to keep his secrets was like stepping into a soothing shower of confidence. But inevitably the sadness returned, because there was an all-too-clear reason for his not spending hours sharing his deepest feelings with those other women. He’d been too busy making love to them. He obviously didn’t find her as irresistible, and that hurt.

  The third night she shared Tyler’s bed felt like midsummer. It hadn’t been hot enough to use the air conditioner during the day, and Julie had left the windows in the condo open to catch the rare breeze off the desert. Tyler exchanged his sweats for a clean T-shirt and boxers, but beads of sweat still clung to the small hairs at the back of his neck.

  “You look so uncomfortable,” she commented as they climbed onto opposite sides of the bed. “Maybe I should close up the house and turn on the air after all.”

  “It will cool down soon enough,” he said. “Leave the windows open.”

  But she could feel heat radiating from his body, between the sheets, and soon she was too hot to sleep. “Let’s be sensible about this,” she murmured into the dark. “Before I came, what did you usually sleep in?”

  “Nothing.”

  She could feel him grinning. Was he just trying to get a rise out of her? “How about a compromise? You can take off your shirt if you leave on your boxers.”

  “Thank God!” He dramatically tossed off the covers. She watched in the moonlight as he stripped off his T-shirt. She held her breath as he hesitated, his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his shorts as if considering dropping them to the floor as well.

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned him.

  He shrugged and gave her a sheepish look that said, Can’t blame a guy for trying.

  “Now you,” he said, crawling back under the sheet.

  Julie’s mouth went dry. She tried to swallow but failed. “I’m fine as I am.”

  Suddenly, he rolled over on the bed, pressed his mouth to her cheek then flicked his tongue out. “Pretty salty for a woman who isn’t sweating. Don’t you have anything lighter than that monster shirt?”

  “Not with me.”

  “Well, at least take off those long johns.”

  “They’re not long johns,” she corrected him primly. “They’re leggings.”

  “Whatever. You need to cool down or you’ll never get any sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day. The rehearsal and dinner with the family.”

  She hadn’t forgotten, and he was right. She desperately needed a good night’s rest. Her days had been spent on the phone, notifying the library she wouldn’t be working there any longer, letting her landlord know that she was moving and would come for her things after the wedding. Closing down one life so that she could begin another. The idea both frightened and excited her.

  Julie turned her head on the silky percale pillowcase to look at Tyler. He was studying her, thinking his private thoughts behind those dark Papago eyes. She would have given anything to know what they were.

  “At least take off the leggings,” he repeated.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have anything on under them,” she said reluctantly.

  A flash of white teeth sent a shiver through her. “Now that’s intriguing. But that shirt comes down to your knees. You’d be quite decent even if you removed the leg thingies.”

  She was too tired to argue with him. Reaching beneath the sheet, she tugged off the cotton leggings and dropped them onto the floor beside the bed. “Satisfied? Now we’re both comfortable and can get some sleep. Good night, Tyler.”

  She lay very still, listening to his breathing. Why hadn’t he answered her?

  After a moment, his hand came across the mattress and she tensed. But his long fingers only folded around hers, softly, easily, companionably. This is nice, she thought. Holding hands in bed.

  A moment later, his thumb moved up to her wrist and gently circled over her pulse point. Julie felt her body settle into itself. The last strands of tension eased away. She rolled onto her side, laid her palm against Tyler’s strong jaw, and looked down into his eyes. He was waiting for her, holding his breath. She brushed her hand cautiously across his smooth, sun-bronzed cheek, over his wide forehead. She touched fingertips to his expressive lips. He didn’t try to kiss them. He waited. Suddenly unsure of herself, she started to lower her hand and move away.

  “Please don’t stop,” he whispered. “I’ve had a killer headache all day. That felt good.”

  How could she deny him such a simple kindness? “Is this where it hurts?” She gently trailed the backs of her fingers across his taut forehead, then smoothed the tense flesh around his eyes and across his temple.

  “Wonderful,” he murmured.

  She kept her hand in motion, wishing him relief. When his own hand came up to rest, as if by chance, against her throat, she didn’t flinch. She was considering how very nice this felt when Tyler turned his head barely an inch, caught her moving fingertips between his strong white teeth, and nibbled gently.

  She looked down at him, transfixed by the intimacy of the gesture. She didn’t pull away.

  Slowly, his lips parted and he gently drew one of her fingers between his teeth. His tongue circled her fingertip in a warm, moist ba
th. She shivered and stared in fascination as he released one finger to take up the next. Fire lashed through her. She dropped her head back and shut her eyes tightly, but the sensations racing through her only seemed heightened.

  “Tyler!” she gasped. At last he finished with her quivering pinkie.

  “Yes, darling?”

  Was that amusement in his voice? Or something deeper, darker? “Never mind.”

  Her hand fell limply from his parted lips to his chest. Slowly she turned it over, pressing her palm flat against the widest part of his body, intending to push herself off and try to recover from the safety of her own side of the bed. But she felt his heart beating beneath her hand, and the primitive rhythm held her there. This is a man, she thought. He is flesh, bone, muscle and spirit. And he was trying to communicate something vital to her, gently but insistently.

  She pressed her fingertips along his breast bone, discovering the places it was the hardest, and where it left off and became muscle on either side. Coarse black hair curled between her trembling fingertips as she stroked him. She was no longer afraid. She was too busy listening for his message and learning his body. There was more of it. She glanced down to where the sheet draped across his hips.

  “Touch anywhere you like,” he whispered.

  “Oh, I wasn’t going to—”

  “Yes, you were,” he chuckled.

  “Well, maybe,” she allowed.

  Tyler slowly reached for her hand and brought it down to his waist, then laid it on the flat, hard plane of his stomach. She looked up and met his eyes. Did he really expect her to…? His gaze never left her face. Yes, he did.

  “You’ve never even touched a man before, have you?”