The Millionaire Claims His Wife

by Sandra Marton

  Annie laughed. It was such a light, easy sound that it made Chase smile. There was a time they’d laughed a lot together. Not over anything special. Just something one would see or hear and say to the other, or something that would happen when they were together.

  It felt good, making her laugh again. Everything about today had felt good, even the moments they’d been going at each other. An argument with Annie was better than an evening of smiles from any other woman, especially if the argument ended, as it so often had, in the old days, with her in his arms...in his arms, and wanting him as much as he wanted her.

  What would she do, if he went to her now? If he shucked off his clothes, pulled back the blankets and got into the bed with her? He knew just how she would smell, like a blend of perfume and honey and cream. And how she would feel, the heat of her breasts and belly, the coolness of her hands and feet.

  He smiled, remembering. Lord, she had the iciest hands and feet in the world!

  It was a game they’d often played, on chilly nights like this. They’d get into bed, he’d take her in his arms and she’d wrap one leg around his, dance her toes over his calf while she slid her hand down his chest and he’d say, very sternly, Annie, you stop that right now, and she’d ask why and he’d say because she was positively frigid.

  “Frigid?” she’d say, indignantly.

  “Frigid,” he’d insist, and then he’d roll her onto her back and whisper, “but I know a way to fix that...”

  Chase shot to his feet.

  “Here,” he said gruffly, dumping the blanket he’d been using on Annie’s bed. “Take this. It’s gotten a little chilly in here.”

  “I’m fine. Anyway, I can’t take your blanket.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “But what’ll you use?”

  A snowbank, if he could find one. What he needed was not to warm up but to chill down.

  “I’m, ah, I’m not tired.”

  “Not tired? Chase, that’s impossible. We’ve had an awful day. An endless day—”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “And you’ve only had, what, two hours sleep? That’s not enough.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’m overwound. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not in the mood to turn into a human pretzel.”

  “You’re right.” Annie reached for his discarded blanket. In one quick motion, she dropped her own blanket, wrapped his around her shoulders, and rose from the bed. Chase had a glimpse of ivory-colored skin and nothing more. “So you take the bed. I’ll take the chair.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m smaller than you are.”

  She was. Definitely. Smaller, and fragile. Wonderfully fragile. Make that feminine. The top of her head barely brushed his chin. If he dipped his head, he could rub his chin against her hair. Her soft, shiny hair.

  “I can tuck my legs up under me and I’ll be perfectly comfortable, Chase. You’ll see. Come on. Switch places with me.”

  Switch places? Climb into the bed, still warm from her body? Put his head on the pillow, still fragrant with her scent? He shook his head and moved back, until the seat of the rocker dug into the backs of his legs.

  “No.”

  “Honestly, you’re such a chauvinist! This is hardly a time to worry about being a gentleman.”

  He had to fight hard to keep from laughing. Or groaning. One or the other, or maybe both. Is that what she thought this was all about? Him trying to be a gentleman? He wondered what she’d think if she knew the real direction of his thoughts, that it was all he could do to keep from picking her up, tossing her onto the bed and tearing away that blanket so he could see if she was wearing anything under it.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “What’s it?”

  Chase cupped Annie’s shoulders, trying not to think about the feel of her under his hands, and moved her gently but firmly out of his way.

  “Chase?” Her voice rang with bewilderment as he opened the door. “Where are you going?”

  To hell in a handbasket, he thought.

  “To heat up some coffee,” he said. “Go back to sleep, Annie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He slipped out of the room, shut the door after him and leaned back against it.

  The torture of the chair was one thing. A man could deal with that But the torture of being so close to Annie was something else.

  Saints willingly martyred themselves, not men.

  Annie stared at the door as it swung shut. Then she sighed and sank down on the edge of the bed.

  “Stupid man,” she muttered. “Let him suffer, if he wants.”

  It was ridiculous of him to have turned down her offer.

  “Brrr,” she said, and burrowed under the covers.

  Of course, he’d been uncomfortable in that chair. Chase was six foot two; he’d weighed 190 pounds for as long as she could remember, all of it muscle. Hard muscle.

  There was no denying that he’d always been a handsome man.

  Beautiful, she’d called him once, after they were first married. They’d been lying in each other’s arms after a long, lazy afternoon of love, and suddenly she’d risen up on her elbows, gazed down at him and smiled.

  “What?” he’d said, and she’d said she’d never thought about it before, but he was beautiful.

  “Goofball,” Chase had said, laughing. “Men can’t be ‘beautiful.’”

  “Why can’t they?” she’d said, in a perfectly reasonable tone, and then, in that same tone, she’d gone on to list all his attributes, and to kiss them all, too. His nose. His mouth. His chin. His broad shoulders. His lightly furred chest. His flat abdomen and belly...

  “Annie,” he’d said, in a choked whisper, and seconds later he’d hauled her up his body, into his arms and taken her into the star-shot darkness with him again.

  “Dammit!”

  Annie flung out her arms and stared up at the skylight, where the light rain danced gently against the glass. What was wrong with her tonight? First the dream that had left her aching and unfulfilled. And now this ridiculous, pointless memory.

  “You’re being a ninny,” she said out loud.

  She wasn’t in love with Chase; hadn’t she already admitted that? As for the sex... Okay. So sex with him had always been good.

  Until he’d ruined it, by never coming home to her.

  Until she’d ruined it, by treating him so coldly.

  Annie threw her arm across her eyes.

  All right. So she wasn’t as blameless as she liked to think. But Chase had hurt her so badly. Nothing had prepared her for the pain of watching him grow out of her life, or of finding him with his secretary...

  Or for the pain of losing him.

  The truth was that she’d never stopped wanting him. Her throat tightened. Never. Not then. Not all the years since. If he’d taken her in his arms again tonight, if he’d kissed her, stroked his hand over her skin...

  The door banged open. Annie grabbed for the blanket and sat up, clutching it to her chin. Chase stood framed in the doorway. Light streamed down the hall, illuminating his face and body with shimmering rays of gold.

  “Annie.”

  His voice was soft and husky. The sound of it sent her heartbeat racing. Say something, she told herself, but her throat felt paralyzed.

  “Annie.” He stepped into the room, his eyes locked on hers. “I lied,” he said. “It isn’t the chair that kept me from sleeping. It’s you.”

  It was a moment for a flippant remark. A little humor, a little sarcasm; something along the lines of, “Really? Well, it’s good to know I’m giving you a bad time.”

  But she didn’t want to toss him a fast one-liner.

  She wanted what he wanted. Why keep up the pretense any longer?

  They were two adults, alone on an island that might just as easily have been spinning in the dark reaches of space instead of being just off the Washington coast. Going into Chase’s arms, loving him just for tonight, would hurt no one.
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  He has a fiancée, a voice inside her whispered. He belongs to another woman now.

  “Annie? I want to make love to you. I need to make love to you. Tell me to go away, babe, and I will, if that’s what you really want, but I don’t think it is. I think you want to come into my arms and taste my kisses. I think you want us to hold each other, the way we used to.”

  The blanket fell from Annie’s hands. She gave a little sob and her arms opened wide.

  Chase whispered her name, pulled off his clothes and went to her.

  He kissed her mouth, and her throat. He kissed the soft skin behind her ear and buried his face in that sweet curve of neck and shoulder that felt like warm silk.

  She’d been wearing something under the blanket, after all. A bra and panties, just plain white cotton, but he thought he’d never seen anything as sexy in his life. His hands had never trembled more than they did as he unfastened the bra and slid the panties down Annie’s long legs.

  “My beautiful Annie,” he murmured, when she lay naked in his arms.

  “I’m not,” she said, with a little catch in her throat. “I’m older. Everything’s starting to sag.”

  Her breath caught as Chase bent and kissed the slope of her breast.

  “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his breath warm against her flesh. “More beautiful than before.”

  His hands cupped her breasts; he bent his head and licked her nipples. It was the truth. She’d gone from being a lovely girl to being a beautiful woman. Her body was classic in its femininity, lushly curved and warm with desire beneath his hands and his mouth. Annie smelled like rosebuds and warm honey, and she tasted like the nectar of the gods.

  She was a feast for a man who’d been starving for five long, lonely years.

  “Chase,” she whispered, when he kissed his way down her belly. Her voice broke as he parted her thighs. “Chase,” she said again.

  He looked up at her, his eyes dark and fierce. “I never forgot,” he said. “The smell of you. The heat.” His hands clasped her thighs. Slowly he lowered his head. “The taste.”

  Annie cried out as his mouth found her. It had been so long. Five years of lonely nights and empty days, of wanting Chase and never admitting it, of dreaming of him, of this, and then denying the dreams in the morning.

  I love you, she thought fiercely, Chase, my husband, my beloved, I adore you. How could I have ever forgotten that?

  He kissed her again and she shattered against the kiss, tumbling through the darkness of the night, and just before she fell to earth he rose up over her and thrust into her body with one deep, hard stroke.

  “Chase,” she cried, and this time, when she came, he was with her, holding her tightly in his arms as they made the breathless free fall through space together.

  The last thing she saw, just before she fell asleep in his arms, was the crescent moon, framed overhead in the skylight, as the clouds parted and the gentle rain ceased.

  * * *

  She awakened during the night, to the soft brush of Chase’s mouth against her nape.

  It was as if the years had fallen away. How many times bad she come awake to his kisses, and to his touch?

  “I never stopped thinking about you,” he whispered.

  I never stopped loving you, was what he wanted to say, but he wanted to look into her eyes when he did, to read her answer there.

  So he spoke to her with his body instead, burying himself in her heat, one hand on her breast and the other low across her belly, moving within her, matching his rhythm to hers, until he groaned and she cried out. Then he turned her into his embrace, kissed her and slipped inside her again, still hard, still wanting her, and this time when she came, she wept.

  “Did I hurt you?” he said softly, and for an instant she almost told him that the pain would come in the morning, when the sun rose and the night ended, and all of this would be nothing more substantial than a dream.

  But that would be wrong. This was a dream, and she knew it. So she smiled against his mouth and said no, he hadn’t hurt her, and then she sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

  “Annie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I’ve been thinking.” He kissed her, and she could feel the smile on his lips. “We ought to try out that tub.”

  “Mmm,” she said again. She yawned lazily. “First thing in the morning...”

  And she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Sunlight woke them—sunlight, and the hornet buzz of the motorboat.

  Annie jumped up in bed, heart pounding.

  “What...?”

  Chase was already pulling on his chinos and zipping up his fly.

  “It’s okay, babe,” he said. “I’ll take care of things.” She nodded, put her hands to her face and pushed back her hair. Chase started for the door, hesitated, and came back.

  “Annie,” he said, and when she looked up, he bent to her and kissed her. “It was a wonderful night,” he said softly.

  She nodded. “Yes. It was.”

  For a minute, she thought he was going to say something more but then he turned away and snagged his shirt from the chair just as a knock sounded at the front door.

  “Okay, okay,” he yelled, “hold your horses. I’m coming.” He swung back one last time, just before he opened the door. “Wonderful,” he said. “And I’m never going to forget it.”

  Annie smiled, even though she could feel tears stinging her eyes.

  Chase’s message had been gallant, to the point and painfully clear.

  It had been a wonderful night. But it was morning now, and what they’d shared was over.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ANNIE STARTED DOWN the steps of her sister’s apartment building just as the skies opened up.

  It had been raining, on and off, for most of the sultry August afternoon but half an hour ago the sky had cleared and so the cloudburst took her by surprise. She gave a startled yelp and darted back into the vestibule of the converted brownstone.

  Wonderful, she thought, as fat raindrops pounded the hot pavement. Just what she needed. A steamy day, and now a hard rain. By the time she got to the subway entrance, she’d be not only drenched but boiled.

  Annie looked over her shoulder. Should she ring the intercom bell? She could ask Laurel to buzz her in, go back upstairs and keep her sister company a while longer.

  No, she thought, and sighed. That wouldn’t be such a good idea. Laurel might have fallen asleep by now. She’d promised she was going to lie down and take a nap, right after Annie left. Heaven knew she looked as if she needed the rest.

  Laurel was going through a bad time.

  Hell. A bad time was putting it mildly.

  Annie hadn’t wanted to leave her, not even when it began to get late and it looked as if she might miss the last train for Stratham.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” she’d said to Laurel.

  “I’m fine,” Laurel had replied.

  The sisters both knew it was a lie.

  Laurel was not fine. She was pregnant and alone and desperately in love with a husband who’d maybe two-timed her or maybe hadn’t, depending on whose story you believed. Either way, it broke Annie’s heart to see her little sister looking so beautiful and feeling so sad.

  “Men,” Annie muttered with disgust.

  Not a one of them was worth a penny. Well, her son-in-law was an exception. Annie’s features softened. Nick was a sweetheart. But the rest of the male species was impossible.

  She blew her curls away from her forehead. The vestibule was turning into a sauna. She’d have to make a run for it soon, even though she could still hear the rain beating down as if the heavenly floodgates had opened and Noah was giving the last call for the Ark.

  Boy, it was really coming down. People always said it rained hard in the Pacific northwest, but the night she’d been there, the rain had been as soft as a lover’s caress.

  Annie frowned. What nonsense! She hadn’t wasted a minute thinking ab
out that awful night, and now it had popped into her head, wrapped in a bit of purple prose that would make any levelheaded female retch.

  It was the rain that had done it. And spending the day with Laurel. What was the matter with the two of them? Were the Bennett sisters doomed to go through life behaving like idiots?

  No way. Laurel would pull herself together, the same as she’d always done. As for her... Annie straightened her shoulders. She was not going to think about that night, or Chase. Why would she? She wasn’t a masochist, and only a masochist would want to remember making a fool of herself, because that was what she’d done on that island.

  Falling for her ex’s lying, sexy charm, tumbling into his arms, inviting him into her bed and making it embarrassingly clear that she’d enjoyed having him there...so clear that he’d figured she’d be only too happy to offer a repeat performance.

  Chase had phoned with that in mind several times since.

  She’d talked with him the first time, because she knew they’d had to agree on what to tell Dawn when she and Nick returned from Hawaii.

  “What do you want to tell her?” Chase had asked, neatly dumping the problem into her lap.

  “The truth,” Annie had answered, “that you lied and I was dumb enough to go along with it—but that would probably be a mistake. So why don’t we settle for something simple. Like, we spent the weekend together and it just didn’t work out.”

  “We didn’t spend the weekend together,” Chase had said. “It was only one night. But it doesn’t have to end there.”

  Apparently behaving like an idiot once didn’t keep you from behaving like one all over again. Annie’s heart had done those silly flip-flops that she hated and she’d waited, barely breathing, for him to say he loved her.

  But he hadn’t.

  “I know you don’t want to get involved again,” he’d said in the same, reasonable tone a TV pitchman might have used selling used cars, “but you have to admit, that night was—it was memorable.”

  “Memorable,” Annie had repeated calmly.

  “Yes. And I’d like to see you again.”

  She could still remember how she’d felt, the pain and the rage twisting inside her so she hadn’t been sure which she wanted to do first, cry her eyes out or kill him.