"I'll make a quick recovery." Brandy tried to look anywhere but at his lips, hovering so close to her own. She wiggled as best she could in the confined area, and winced with the soreness that was beginning to set in. '"Besides," she tried to look around him, "you haven't brought my clothes up. Why don't you go down to the car for them, and by the time you get back I'll be all finished in the bath? I'll even save you a lot of hot water."
"There's plenty of hot water," he said, his face so close to hers rain droplets fell from his hair onto her cheek, "and more than enough room for the two of us. Trust me."
"I suppose you're speaking from experience about the adequacies of the tub," her voice quivered.
Shaw neither confirmed nor denied it as his mouth descended on her own. "Don't fight me, Brandy," he mumbled against her lips. "You didn't last night."
"How do you know what I did last night?" She shook her face free of his lips, pounding ineffectually with her fists against his chest. "You were so drunk last night you probably don't remember a thing!"
"If I was drunk, it was your fault." He blazed. "I don't make a habit of drowning my senses in drink. But I suppose that was necessary for you to have your way with me, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" he demanded, scooping up both of her flailing hands in one of his.
Brandy couldn't deny it. Alcohol had contributed greatly to her success with him. It seemed there was no way she could fight him now—not with words, nor logic, nor compromise. Tears, she recalled from that morning, had not been such a winning ploy, either.
"You had your way with me last night," his voice could have frozen an ocean. "Now it's your turn to give me equal time."
As his lips came down on hers this time, Brandy found it not an unpleasant sensation—actually, it was very enjoyable. The pressure of his mouth on hers drew her into the spirit of his lovemaking, gently guiding and teasing her lips apart, inviting his questing tongue. Brandy had rarely been kissed before, and never like this. She felt weak and fluttery in her stomach, no longer concerned with the consequences of her actions. Shaw was her husband, legally and morally; there was nothing wrong in what they were doing, unless she wanted an annulment later. An end to the marriage was inevitable since Shaw didn't love her, but she wanted it to end with an annulment rather than a divorce.
But at that moment, she couldn't argue about it. It was too easy to just lay back and follow Shaw's lead.
"You're lovely," Shaw murmured, his hands framing her face, dropping down to the buttons of her blouse, "even when you're as wet as a half-drowned rat."
"You're wonderful for a girl's ego," she sighed, mesmerized by the action of his fingers at the closure of her blouse. The fluttery sensation drifted lower, until she was squirming with impatience at what Shaw would do next. "And you're pretty wet yourself." She placed her arms around his neck as the top three buttons of her blouse came undone.
As the last buttons opened, revealing Brandy's lacy bra, she held her breath. Shaw might have felt her nakedness last night, but he had not seen her bare body—no man had. She usually felt so shy, even in front of a camera with little more than a few scraps of material covering her most intimate parts… why did she feel so eager for Shaw to see her?
Shaw kissed the side of her neck, his hands massaging the swells of her breasts through the thin barrier of her bra. How restricting clothes can be, thought Brandy, winding her arms tighter around his neck, her fingers spreading into his hair.
Shaw's kisses dropped lower, his hand sliding behind her back to unclasp her bra. "Will Eric stay in his room?" he asked as he lifted his head, his eyes smoky with desire as they devoured her flushed face and heaving breasts.
"Oh! Eric! I forgot about him."
"Relax." Shaw grinned at her expression. "At least we're making progress if I can make you forget about Eric for a few minutes."
Brandy couldn't reply to that.
"We'd better adjourn to the bedroom for safety's sake," he whispered, effortlessly scooping her up in his arms to carry her there. "Still sore?" His grin widened at her protests.
"I wasn't faking, you know," she retorted. At least not completely, she added to herself.
"I know." He smiled, his voice soft and concerned.
He was at the door of the bedroom when the phone rang. Brandy was tempted to tell him just to ignore it, and as he hesitated with her in his arms, she thought he was probably considering doing just that. Convention got the better of him, though, and he set her gently on her feet. "I won't be long." His smile was a promise of what was to come.
Brandy clung to him for a moment as he steadied her.
"Are you okay on your feet?"
She nodded, her hands reluctant to leave his strong, warm body. "I can manage."
Shaw turned back into the living room and in two long strides reached the phone. Brandy saw him glance back at her lingering in the doorway. What was it about the man that attracted her? she thought. Why had she chosen him for a husband? What was she doing waiting patiently, even eagerly, for him to take her?
She was so lost in her bewildering thoughts that it took several moments before she realized Shaw was speaking to another woman: one of his many girlfriends, no doubt, she thought, and one who obviously expected him to be with her at that moment.
The phone call brought Brandy back to her senses. He was nothing but a playboy. Tonight, she happened to be the object of his attention—probably because she was simply the closest at hand. The fact that they were married made no difference to him. He would take what he wanted when it was offered to him.
But she was not offering any longer, if she could help herself. As she wondered if she could keep to this decision, she slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it behind her.
Shaw hung up the phone almost immediately after the door slammed and started pounding on it.
"Open this door, Brandy. Right now."
"No." She was halfway across the room now, wondering if he could open it despite the lock. He might have a key somewhere in the apartment for emergencies, but she wondered if he'd know where to find it. No female had probably ever locked him out of a bedroom before.
"I'm warning you, Brandy, you'd better open this door."
"Why?" she demanded. "So you can continue using your charms on me? I may be your wife, Shaw Janus, at least for the moment, but that doesn't mean you can treat me like the rest of your casual affairs."
"You didn't seem to be objecting to my treatment a minute ago," he countered.
She was momentarily speechless. "I suppose you think all a model does is stand in front of a camera and pose… but I know a lot about acting, too."
Shaw muttered something she couldn't understand.
"What did you say?" she shouted.
"Nothing!"
"Good. If you still have any romantic ideas for the evening, why don't you take them up with your girlfriend? It sounds as if she was expecting you tonight, anyway. I suppose she didn't realize you were occupied. And don't expect me to be so cooperative anymore."
There was no reply through the door, which worried Brandy more than Shaw's taunts. She made a few more nasty comments, and receiving no response, she stomped her way across the room to the bath. A good hot shower was the first thing she needed. Once she calmed down and got out of her wet clothes, she could think about her next move, she thought. She couldn't stay locked in here all night, if only out of decency to Shaw. All of his clothes were in here, and he could be needing a warm bath, also. Of course, he could use Eric's bath, but he would still need fresh clothes.
As Brandy finished the job Shaw had begun of undressing her, she realized she needed clothes worse than Shaw did. She could always place a bundle of his things just outside the door, but she had nothing to wear until he brought her clothes up from the car. In the mood he was in right now, he wouldn't be too excited about doing any favors for her.
Brandy had been lucky enough to escape Shaw that evening, but she realized it would only be a matter of time before his stronger will won their battle
.
Finishing her bath, and with a towel wrapped around her hair, she pulled on his long terry robe. She had heard him leave the apartment and hoped it was to collect her clothes. She took the opportunity to bundle together a selection of his clothes, deposit them outside the bedroom door, and locked herself in again, pulling the bedcovers high over her head so she wouldn't hear him if he began pounding on the door again.
After he returned, she heard him turn the knob at the bedroom door, but when the door didn't budge, he retreated. As nervous as she was, Brandy must have fallen asleep quickly, the strain and anxiety of the long day finally catching up with her, because the next thing she knew, Shaw's alarm clock, which she had set in time to get Eric ready for school, was buzzing her awake.
Brandy sat up in bed, pulling Shaw's robe, which had served as her nightgown, around her bare body. Will I end up back in this bed tonight, with him? she wondered. She couldn't decide if that frightened her more than the thought of Shaw in someone else's bed that night.
She shook her head free of the thoughts. Shaw was his own man. He would take what he wanted when he was ready. She had deterred him last night purely for the moment.
In the bathroom, Brandy splashed cold water on her face and checked her clothes. They were still damp, and she was still at Shaw's mercy, confined to his robe.
She was reluctant to parade out into the living room dressed as she was, even if the garment was totally concealing. Shaw would know it was the only thing she had on, and he would probably take advantage of the fact, but she had to wake Eric and get him ready for school. Besides, Shaw had thought of Eric last night during the heat of their lovemaking. If he could do that, then surely she was safe from his advances—as long as Eric was around. But what would happen after she took Eric to school?
She couldn't bear thinking about it, noticing the seductive curves of her breasts reflected in the mirror, and wondering how she would look through Shaw's eyes. Her body was aroused at the mere thought of him, and that angered her. With his countless affairs, she didn't approve of what he stood for. Stop it, she told herself, tying the sash of the robe tightly about her waist. She had to wake Eric now. She'd just have to handle things one at a time.
She found the door unlocked. So he did know how to get to me. Then why hadn't he? she wondered.
She left the door wide open as she left the bedroom. Shaw had proved a locked door would never stand between him and the woman he wanted: she suspected very little else would either, when he was ready to make his move.
Eric's door was ajar, and when she peered in she found the covers thrown back and the bed empty. The bath was vacant, too, and as she puzzled about where he might be, she heard him giggle from the direction of the kitchen.
Brandy padded across the deep pile carpet to the kitchen to find Eric swinging his legs from his chair, crumbling toast, and laughing at something Shaw had said to him. Her movement at the door caught his eye and he turned and smiled at her.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Shaw drawled, his gaze stripping her of the robe and placing her back in bed.
Brandy blushed, surprised to see Eric fully dressed and hair combed, and breakfast all but finished. "It's not that late, is it?"
"Electricity went off during the night," Shaw explained casually, pouring coffee and offering her a cup.
Brandy, who normally didn't drink coffee, was so surprised by his show of domesticity that she accepted, and sat somewhat awkwardly in the chair Shaw pulled out for her at the table beside him. "Black?" he asked.
"What?" She had been taking in the collection of pots Shaw had added to her mess from the evening before. Evidently he was adept at cooking ham and eggs and toast, not to mention the fresh-squeezed orange juice she noticed in the pitcher in front of them. "No, the works."
Shaw slid the cream and sugar containers in front of her and continued to eye her softly curling hair and full lips as she tended to her coffee cup.
He was wearing jeans and a shirt from the pile she had left out for him.
"I see you found your clothes," she said unnecessarily.
"Hmmm," he answered.
"Where did you sleep?"
"On the couch," he replied, asking Eric if he'd like a refill.
Brandy was tempted to ask whose couch—his own or someone else's—but a second look told her she had better not push her luck.
"What time is it?" she asked, leaning forward to read the hands on Shaw's watch.
"Seven-thirty. Just enough time for me to shave and change clothes before dropping Eric off at school. I thought you'd never wake up."
Brandy blinked. He was acting as if they had been through this routine for years. Had this been what she had glimpsed in Shaw? That ability to take charge of a situation?
"That's kind of you, Shaw, but I'll get dressed… you did bring my clothes up, didn't you?"
He nodded. "In my closet."
Her mouth dropped open. Not only had he managed to unlock the bedroom door, but had actually entered the room and hung up her clothes while she was sleeping. "I—I'll take Eric to school. I don't want to put you out."
"It's on the way for me, and I have to be at the office about the same time he's supposed to be at school, so it's no trouble."
"Still—"
"It's no problem," he cut into her words. "Besides, Eric and I have a lot to talk about, don't we?" He winked at the small head beside him.
Eric nodded up and down like a co-conspirator, and Brandy wondered what the two of them could have in common after such a brief acquaintance. Still, if they were to be living together for the next few weeks, or months, it was probably best that they get to know each other.
She couldn't help wondering what the topic of their conversation was, and challenged, "Like what?"
"Oh, various things," Shaw said vaguely, "like certain people we both know."
She blushed. Shaw was using Eric, pumping him for information about her. What the poor child could be telling him she could hardly guess, but it rankled nevertheless. She'd just have to have a talk with Eric about it.
"Did you know Shaw has an airplane, Brandy?"
"It's Mr. Janus," she corrected him.
"But he said I could call him Shaw," Eric pouted. "He's not my father, but he's like a big brother. I don't want to call him Mister."
"It's okay, Eric," Shaw intervened. "I want you to call me Shaw. Mr. Janus sounds so old."
Eric beamed. "Shaw has an airplane," he picked up the thread of his conversation as if he had never been interrupted, "and he says he'll take me for a ride in it. Won't that be swell?"
Brandy wasn't so sure, but she smiled and kept her opinions to herself. At least they weren't discussing her all of the time; they were talking about her enough, though, to make her feel outnumbered.
"Well." Shaw pushed his plate aside, and got up from the table. "I'm going to have to hurry if I don't want to be late. Do you mind washing the dishes?"
Brandy looked at the mound of kitchenware in the sink and shook her head. She felt as if she were watching a movie of someone else's life.
Shaw was at the door when he turned back and cast a lecherous look in her direction. "What do you have planned today?" he asked.
Brandy blinked, grasping for some sense of reality. Her entire life had turned upside down in twenty-four hours. What was she going to do about it? she wondered. "I'm not sure. Regroup and rearrange, I guess. I need to contact my agent and let him know how to get in touch with me."
"We're going to have a long talk about your 'career' one day—soon," he promised before he left the room to dress for work.
Brandy stared dazedly after Shaw, eventually realizing Eric was trying to get her attention with all of his talk about Shaw's airplane. It was a four-seater, so there'd be room enough for her, too, he was telling her. Just enough extra space, thought Brandy, for one of Shaw's girlfriends, to tag along, also.
She stood up, deciding that it was time to tackle the pile of dishes. Eric was babbling on
about the airplane as if he was planning to take it to class for one of his "show and tell" projects. Her attempts to change the subject and probe into Shaw's investigation of her went unheeded. Eric was too wound up, tighter than a propeller, on the subject of airplanes to want to talk about anything else. Brandy grinned. Maybe Shaw would have just as much trouble changing the subject as she. Serve him right, she thought.
She had just finished washing the last pot and had begun drying the plates when Shaw poked his head around the kitchen door. "You must be quite good at method acting." He startled her.
"What?" She turned around, smiling at the complimentary tone of his voice.
"You get so involved in your roles," he commented. "Anyone looking at you right now would think you were quite a happy little wife, but we both know better, don't we?"
Brandy fixed a grin on her face, refusing to rise to his taunts in front of Eric. "I do hope you have a nice day, Shaw. I'm sure I will after you leave."
"Well?" He hadn't moved from the door.
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" His brief glance at Eric implied: this had better be good, unless you want Eric to get the wrong idea about his happy new home.
"How could I forget?" She rushed over to him, intending to peck him on the cheek, but before she could, Shaw caught her in his arms, bending her almost double so that she was entirely at his mercy as his lips plundered her own.
She was breathless when he left her, half from the position he had thrown her into, and half from the devastating kiss. Her legs felt wobbly, that same fluttery feeling she experienced last night in his arms invading her entire body.
"I'll see you tonight," he whispered, eyes gleaming at her disheveled appearance, "and we'll establish a few ground rules."
"Don't count on it," her eyes replied, but she didn't utter another word until both he and Eric were out of the apartment and far enough away not to hear her scream of frustration. What could she do? Shaw Janus was her husband in name. It was only a matter of time before he became her husband in deed as well.
Chapter Five
For Eric's Sake Page 6
