by Lori Foster
He glanced at Dana’s profile as he pulled the Mercedes into the drive and strove for a calm he was far from feeling. Dana, as usual, looked cool as an arctic blast. It was an expression he once appreciated but now resented. “You’re being unreasonable.”
She didn’t look at him, just stared straight ahead at the house. “Because I don’t want you to give me a credit card when I already have two of my own?”
Her look clearly said he was the one being unreasonable. Not that he cared. “That’s hardly the point, Dana.”
She pressed on, her tone irritatingly clipped and formal. “Because I don’t want a joint savings account when we each already have our own?” She cast him a quick look. “And R.J., you pay me well. My accounts are not in need of padding.”
She was being deliberately obtuse, but he didn’t say so. A joint account would allow him to supply her with some of his own money, money he could well afford to spare. He needed to do something for her, to reciprocate her generosity in some way, but she turned him down every damn time he tried.
“Stop squeezing the steering wheel, R.J. You’re going to break it in two.”
R.J. glared at her and saw she was glaring right back. The cool detachment was gone. Her green eyes looked as if they were lit from within, something he’d never witnessed in Dana. There were a lot of?things about her he’d never noticed before—mule-headed stubbornness, for one.
He’d thought the long ride would have given her time to think, but she hadn’t canned down at all. She was prepared to reject him on every level.
He took some measure of satisfaction in seeing the chain around her neck and the ring on her finger. She wore the bracelet, too, though he couldn’t detect it beneath her sleeve.
She’d accepted precious little from him, but the possessive part of him was mollified to see that in at least some small way, he’d been able to please her.
He pulled into the garage and shoved the car into park. Now, if he could just get her to agree on a few more things…. “Having an account in both our names—”
“Will make you feel like you’re paying me for marrying you.” Her words rang with outrage, which appeared to have shocked her as well as him. After a moment, she gave a melodramatic sigh and dropped her head back against the seat. “R.J., I’ve already told you it wasn’t necessary to buy my help. I don’t want your credit cards. I don’t want your money.”
She doesn’t want me. He shook that thought off just as quickly as he realized it. He didn’t particularly want her to want him; the marriage was temporary, and once it was over, he hoped things could go back—to some degree—to the way they’d been before.
He knew deep in his gut they’d never be exactly the same again. Not after he’d kissed her. And touched her. Not after he’d been buried deep inside her and found out he was the only one.
Not after he’d given her the impression he was a totally uncontrolled, bumbling fool in the sack. He felt disgustingly embarrassed every time he thought of it, and that made him angry, too.
He didn’t really blame Dana for not wanting to give him a second chance. It had been her first time, and he’d totally lost control. He hadn’t gently seduced her as he’d originally planned. He hadn’t left her utterly sated when he walked away to go to his own room.
No, he’d left her hiding out in the bathroom after giving her nothing but a taste of how a wild man might behave.
Dana was controlled, always poised, always elegant. Sweaty, gritty sex likely repulsed her—especially since he’d been in such a frenzy to have her, she hadn’t even gotten to climax.
R.J. swore softly, then threw open his door. Dana climbed out on her own, refusing to let him open her door the way a gentleman should, the way he wanted to.
Damn woman.
The whole day was frustrating, and getting more so by the minute. After they’d tidied up the breakfast dishes together, he’d taken her on a tour of the house. She’d been woefully unimpressed, though she’d made appropriate noises of appreciation. But he knew her better than that. It was the plants, and especially the pond, that she found fascinating. They’d spent several hours outside, just walking and talking. Even in her enthusiasm, Dana had tried to remain impersonal. But he’d now met the woman beneath the suit. He knew what she tasted like, the way she sounded when she was sexually aroused. He knew the heated scents of her body.
Damn, if only he’d taken his time. She’d been sat-isfyingly close for a while there—until he’d botched it.
Dana headed into the house, oblivious to his heated thoughts, and R.J. made note of the gentle sway of her hips. Trailing behind her would become a new hardship, given she wanted a hands-off relationship. He was only too aware of how wonderfully touchable she was. He swallowed hard. “Where are you off to?”
“I’m going to make a few calls.”
She kept walking, not bothering to look back. R.J. reached out and snagged the back of her shirt, pulling her up short. “What kind of calls?”
Looking over her shoulder, she glanced first at his face, then the fist holding her in place. One brow rose in the same imperious manner Megan often used. It was a command, plain and simple.
It wasn’t easy, but R.J. managed to loosen his fingers and let her go. He shoved his hands into his pockets to resist the urge to grab her again.
“First I’m going to have my car driven over here.”
That brought him up short. He hadn’t even considered her car. “Why?”
“We have work tomorrow, remember?”
He remembered only too well. His mother had given him grief for not taking Dana on a honeymoon. She hadn’t been impressed with his explanation of sudden decisions, bad timing and set schedules. Megan knew he could rearrange things if he chose to, just as she knew he’d damn well take a honeymoon if that was what he wanted to do.
But a honeymoon had never been the purpose of the marriage.
“I can drive you to work. We’re going to the same place.”
“I’d rather have my own car.”
“Then we can get it later in the week.”
She gave him a pensive frown. “Our schedules seldom mesh, R.J., other than arriving close to the same time. But I generally like to get there before you—”
“You don’t need to do that now.”
She shook her head. “Work is work, and I won’t let our pretend marriage change that. Besides, you often stay later than I do and have meetings after hours when I go home. You’re what we normal people call a workaholic. If you had to chauffeur me around, you’d resent it.”
She had a point, not that he’d admit it. “I hardly think driving my wife somewhere could be called chauffeuring.”
“Your pretend wife.”
“To the world it’s real.”
“And to the real world, it makes sense for us to drive separate cars.” Irritation edged into her tone, “I know for a fact you have meetings planned for lunch most of this week, while I usually meet one of my friends. We need two cars, so I might as well get mine here tonight. Besides, I’ve already made arrangements with my neighbor to have it dropped off. All I need to do is let him know.”
R.J. ran a hand through his hair. Frustration gnawed at him, but he couldn’t say exactly why. Two days ago, he’d have been insistent that she have her own car, because that would have guaranteed his freedom. Now he saw it as another tactic on her part to put distance between them. She wanted as little to do with him as possible, and his ego naturally rebelled. He’d expected to be the one fending her off, not the other way around.
He dropped his hands. “Fine. You want to drive yourself, you can use my Mercedes. I’ll drive the Explorer—”
She stared at him. “You have an Explorer?”
“I use it when I travel or when I go to the lake.”
“Oh.” Then she shook her head. “R.J, I have my own car, thank you. I don’t need yours.”
A smart man always knew when to retreat, which meant he was losing his edge because he shou
ld have stopped ten minutes ago. “All right. Is that all you have to do now?”
“No. I’m going to set up some damage control. That’s why we got married in the first place, remember?”
If he threw her over his shoulder and hauled her upstairs, would she fight him? Probably. Dana didn’t appear to have an amicable bone left in her entire body—at least not where he was concerned. “It’s Sunday. How much organizing can you do today?”
“Plenty. This is the best time to start because everyone will be home. I’m going to get the ball rolling on our public announcement, just in case the papers haven’t gotten wind of it yet. And this coming week we’re going to make the rounds visiting some of the places you regularly donate to. Like the One Way Farm for kids, the women’s shelter, the various medical research facilities. You’re very generous with your time and money, but no one reports on that.”
He eyed her mutinous, disgruntled expression and knew she was feeling defensive on his behalf again. It was a unique experience having someone champion him, though he realized now that Dana had always done exactly that, so subtly that he’d barely noticed. He didn’t like knowing that he’d taken her for granted, that he’d appreciated only part of the woman she was. “Don’t get riled, honey.-1 doubt anyone even knows what I donate or to whom.”
“Exactly.” She raised a small fist. “But if the press wants to hound you this week, well, they can just follow us around and give some added publicity to the charities that need it. In fact, that’ll be your stand, okay?”
Besides making him hot, she amused the hell out of him. “My stand?”
She began pacing as she pulled her thoughts together. “You want to turn all the bad publicity into some good. You don’t mind being in the limelight if it will help someone. In fact, you welcome the press!” She nodded in satisfaction at her own conclusions, then turned away. “I’m going to get started on this right now.”
R.J. stood there, speechless. Dana was in full work mode, so there was no point getting in her way. She went into his den and shut the door with a click, firmly closing him out.
Muttering a muffled oath, R.J. went down the hall. The night would arrive soon enough, and he’d try reasoning with her again.
It was a strange reaction on his part, because making love with a virgin had never appealed to him before. The few inexperienced women he’d known hadn’t been very satisfactory lovers. They hadn’t been virgins, but neither had they known enough to fully reciprocate his sensual advances. He’d done all the work, gotten little enough in the way of response, and there’d been no giving, no real sharing.
With Dana, it had been different. Her response had been first shyly open, then blindly feverish. She’d been more than willing to give and take, holding nothing back from him—until he’d lost control.
R.J. bit the side of his mouth, remembering the hot, tight clasp of her body as he’d pushed his way into her, the wetness, the seductive scent of her arousal. He got hard just thinking about it.
Damn, would he ever be given a second chance?
He thumped his fist against his thigh, cursing low and making a silent vow. Tonight, he’d get started on wearing her down. He’d be honest with her, telling her that she’d turned him on, explaining why he’d lost control and promising it wouldn’t happen again. No woman could resist a well-phrased compliment, especially when it was true. And just maybe she’d appreciate the fact that he’d found her so desirable he’d been pushed over the edge when no other woman had had that effect on him.
No, he decided abruptly, he’d keep that part to himself. No reason to leave himself so open or to make her think she had more influence on him than she did. Their marriage was temporary, after all, and he didn’t want her to start imagining things that could never be.
All he really had to do was show her that he was no slacker in bed, that the rumors of him being a good lover hadn’t been false, contrary to what she’d witnessed. He had to prove to her that her first plan hadn’t been a bad one after all. And he had to make her understand that she could have incredible pleasure with him.
He had to have her, period.
* * *
Dana was satished with all she’d accomplished. She’d spoken to many of R.J.’s relatives, as well as some family acquaintances and closer friends. She’d given her humble apologies for not inviting them to the wedding, but claimed that under the circumstances, she and R.J. had wanted as little publicity as possible. Everyone had been gracious enough to say they understood, though she knew his sisters were hurt, especially Anna.
Though R.J. felt fully a part of Megan’s family and was accepted and loved as the oldest brother, there remained a special bond between him and Anna.
Anna had only been a few months old when their father had abandoned the two of them. R.J. wasn’t a demonstrative man, but his protectiveness and affection for Anna and her son, Will, were apparent to anyone who’d ever seen them together.
Dana had left the special circumstances of their marriage for R.J. to explain to Anna. He could tell her as much or as little as he decided was appropriate. Dana had never had any close relatives of her own except for her mother, who had passed away years ago, so she couldn’t begin to fully understand, much less interfere with, their special relationship.
It was getting late when she finished making her plans for the week and had jotted down notes on things to do for the next day. She’d made a good head start on her intentions, but the week promised to be a hectic one. Since she was privy to R.J.’s schedule, she had taken the liberty of filling almost every available minute with an eye to repairing his reputation. That was the one thing she could do for him, and she was determined it would work.
Her car was dropped off and she paid her neighbor, who’d obligingly agreed to the service, before he took a cab home. Dana wondered about R.J.’s stubbornness concerning the cars, but httle of what he’d done since the marriage could have been predicted based on what she knew about him—and she’d thought she knew him well.
Dana didn’t see R.J. as she made her way upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed. She was actually relieved. She didn’t relish running into him again, rehashing all the reasons she couldn’t accept his money. True, she didn’t have his wealth, but she was comfortable. You didn’t work as the executive secretary for R.J. Maitland without getting well paid for it. But even if she’d been a pauper, she’d never have let him pay her for their marriage.
Her pride, which he’d yet to discover rivaled his own, wouldn’t allow for such a thing.
She went to her room, idly wondering where R.J. had gotten to. Maybe he’d already retired for the night. Bone tired herself, she kicked off her shoes and stripped off her slacks, putting them neatly away. Then she turned to the mirror and pulled the pins from her hair. She was just reaching for the hem of her tunic to pull it over her head when there was a brisk knock on the dividing door and it opened.
Dana turned to stone.
A frozen, heavy silence filled the room. She could only imagine how she looked, standing there in nothing more than a long shirt, her hair disheveled, bordering on wild since she’d yet to pull a brush through it.
And R.J. He stood there staring, one hand still on the doorknob, one foot inside the room. His hazel eyes were fixed on her, not wavering the tiniest bit, and she could see the slow clenching of his jaw, could feel the strange energy gathering around him like a brewing storm.
Awkwardness swamped her, and she reached up to smooth her hair, though she knew it wouldn’t do a bit of good. As if that movement had galvanized him, R.J. stepped the rest of the way into the room and shut the door behind him. He didn’t say a word as he strolled barefoot across the carpet to stand directly in front of her.
There was an intense light in his eyes, turning the hazel to gold, and a frown marred his brow. His gaze slid with excruciating slowness over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, lingering for long moments on her exposed legs.
Dana shif
ted her feet, pressing her knees together. Through the lump in her throat, she choked out the words that needed to be said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t just barge in here.”
It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “Damn, you have beautiful hair.”
She was too stunned to even blush. She simply wanted him out of the room before he felt forced to offer more outrageous compliments.“R.J., I’m in the middle of changing clothes.” Her hands shook, and she tugged ineffectually on the bottom of the tunic, trying to stretch the material to cover her thighs.
His gaze met hers, and she felt seared by the heat. “I’m glad I didn’t wait. You’d have never let me in, not looking like this.”
“You’re right.” She started to step away, but she refused to be a coward. Situations such as this were bound to occur sooner or later. Though it was painfully awkward—at least for her—now was the perfect time to resolve them, so future incidents could be avoided.
The fact that he kept staring at her legs made it even more difficult. Men didn’t look at her with such intensity, and certainly R.J. never had. In fact, she couldn’t remember any man ever seeing her legs before. The skirts she favored were long, ending just below her knees. Besides, her legs were unexceptional. They were thin, long, pale. Not the shapely tanned legs of a beach bunny.
She did her best to stand still. “R.J., you promised me my privacy when I agreed to the marriage.”
Other than drawing his darkened gaze from her legs to her face, he ignored her. She knew R.J. had a knack of forcing the topic any way he chose, and this was no different. Still, she was speechless when he reached out and tangled his fist in her hair.
“You look like a siren.” His fist moved, his fingers caressing. “Your hair is so damn soft and sexy.”
“R.J., please.” This time she did try to step away, but since he didn’t let go of her hair, she was drawn up short with a wince.
He didn’t appear to notice. “And your legs.” His free hand settled on her hip, his fingers gently squeezing as he looked down the length of her. “You have world-class legs, babe. I had no idea.”
