Courtney smiled ruefully to herself. She would have cut out anyone’s tongue for saying the same to her, but in the recesses of her mind, she could admit it Sometimes, just sometimes, she needed someone to hold her and tell her everything was all right.
Just as Gabriel was doing with Katie.
She sighed to herself. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. Maybe…
Startled, Courtney straightened as Gabriel came out of the bedroom. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to be seen.
“Um, I came to see if there was anything else she needed.” Courtney struggled to sound nonchalant She hated being caught off guard like this. “I know how disorienting all this must be to her.”
John eased the door shut behind him. He’d worried about Katie a lot today. All this had to be particularly taxing for her. But Katie had surprised him by bearing up well. Maybe the doctor was being unduly pessimistic about her condition. Maybe they could hold off a little longer until she was older, stronger.
In the meantime, he’d bank the money this stint in hell was earning him.
Maybe that was a little harsh. Courtney’s thoughtfulness toward his daughter made him reassess his opinion of her. Maybe she wasn’t quite the spoiled brat he thought her to be.
“Actually, I think she’s adjusting to this better than we are. She’s very adaptable.”
Courtney just wanted to get back to her own room. “Good, it’s a quality she’s going to need in life.”
John frowned. She didn’t have a clue as to what Katie did or didn’t need. “Katie has everything she needs.”
There was that protectiveness again, Courtney thought. Katie was a child, not a possession. She shrugged. It wasn’t any business of hers.
John closed his hand around the doorknob. “Well, good night again.”
“Good night.” Courtney backed away. Breeding prompted her to ask, “You don’t need anything, do you?”
Like what? What was she magnanimously going to offer him now? “What more could I want than this?” John gestured about the house.
No, she’d been right to begin with. Gabriel was insufferable. Just because he read bedtime stories to his daughter, that didn’t make him a prince. That barely made him likable.
“Nothing,” she retorted.
Courtney spun around on her heel. The click of her door was followed by the sound of his being shut.
She blinked her eyes furiously. Hell of a way to spend a wedding night, she thought. The moisture on her lashes dripped down her cheeks.
Chapter Seven
The noise woke her, penetrating her consciousness like a pneumatic drill.
Courtney firmly believed that mornings were God’s way of exacting punishment for mankind’s transgressions. As far as she was concerned, days should start at a decent hour. Like ten or eleven. Or, if absolutely necessary, nine.
With effort, she pried open her eyes. Daylight assaulted her, bathing her room with bold strokes of amber and gold.
Instincts of self-preservation had Courtney pulling the pillow over her head. The alarm clock continued its shrill ringing. With a groan, she tossed the pillow aside and glared at the clock.
Seven o’clock. Exactly what she had set it for. She must have been out of her mind.
Edwin Parsons had told her that unless she wanted to wait three weeks, the only possible time he could bring her the papers she needed to sign was before he went to his office. For the past thirty years, Parsons had always been at his desk by eight.
Why not? He had no life, she thought miserably. The man was married to his career. All he cared about was work. She, on the other hand, cared about a great many things, none of which involved getting up at an ungodly hour. But, not wanting to wait any longer than necessary, Courtney had agreed to the time.
Now she sorely regretted it. She needed to be reasonably alert when Parsons arrived, as well as showered and dressed.
That meant getting out of bed.
She wondered if it was too late to call Parsons and tell him to stop by some night this week after work, no matter how late.
Probably. Resigned, Courtney dragged herself up into a sitting position. She felt exhausted. More so than she’d been in a long time. Getting less than four hours’ sleep would do that to a person.
Insomnia wasn’t usually her bedmate, but it had been last night. The hours had stretched themselves before her, moving minute by slow, torturously long minute, until they had knitted themselves into an inky black cloak that threatened to strangle her.
It was no mystery what had sent her on the journey into the depths of sleeplessness. The same thing that was bothering her now. She was married. Married to someone she didn’t know, didn’t even like. Someone who, because of nature’s perverse sense of humor, she was physically attracted to to such a degree that it nearly robbed her of her senses.
If that wasn’t cause for insomnia, she didn’t know what was. Just thinking of being tied to that smug, muscle-bound—
No, she wasn’t going to think about it, or him. She was just going to do what she had to in order to get through this charade. She’d endured worse. She’d endured finding out that as far as the men she loved were concerned, her main asset—maybe her only one—was her money. Compared to that, this was a cakewalk.
Well, maybe not a cakewalk, but easier.
And two years would be gone soon enough, as would he. Look at how quickly her life had flown by so far, she thought ruefully. There was a time when thirty seemed like eternity away. Now it was a matter of a little more than two weeks.
She’d make it, Courtney promised herself. Besides, it wasn’t two years anymore. It was two years minus one day.
Courtney stopped as she remembered. That was exactly the way Gabriel had described the remaining time last night.
Their wedding night.
The alarm clock began ringing again. It was set to go off at three-minute intervals until she shut it off. Doubling her hand into a fist, she brought it down on the buzzer. It fell into silence. It also fell off the nightstand. Satisfaction brought a small smile to her lips. Courtney left the clock on the floor.
Satisfaction was short-lived, disappearing before her feet touched the floor. Maybe a shower would help. A nice, cold shower to coax her back among the living. She couldn’t face Parsons like this. One look at her bleary-eyed face and he’d know she wasn’t the blissful bride.
She didn’t have to be blissful, Courtney reminded herself. She just had to be a bride.
Of a Neanderthal.
Still more than half-asleep, Courtney stumbled through her bedroom toward the dressing room and the bathroom that lay just beyond it. The crumpled white heap in the corner assumed the shape of her discarded wedding gown as she approached it.
The sight of the gown caused her throat to tighten. Almost everyone at the reception had told her what a beautiful bride she made. Too bad she hadn’t felt beautiful. Or happy.
Courtney picked up the gown and laid it carefully on the unmade bed. Maybe next time, she thought. Maybe next time it would be for real.
With the heel of her hand, she wiped away a tear and called herself a fool.
Preoccupied, Courtney didn’t see him until she had closed the door behind her and turned around. Looking back on it later, it seemed incredible that she hadn’t seen Gabriel when she’d first walked in.
Once she was aware of him, Courtney couldn’t see anything else but Gabriel. And she became conscious of a wild, rushing sound in her ears. It matched the pace created by her heart.
Any second now, she was sure that God’s voice would break in, announcing: “This is a test, this is merely a test.” Because Gabriel was standing in front of her almost naked.
Stray beads of water from the shower he’d just taken were still clinging to his shoulders and his torso. That was practically all that was clinging to him, beyond her gaze. He had very little else on, save for a towel that in her estimation was only a little larger than a standard washcloth.
/> You could wash laundry on his stomach, she thought, a strange sensation registering in her knees. The same sensation that she’d felt last night when he kissed her.
Courtney’s startled gasp made him jump. John swung away from the mirror, the toothbrush slipping from his fingers. Picking it up, he looked at Courtney. His body temperature went up ten degrees.
Since when had they started making nightgowns out of spider webs? The one Courtney had on was hardly thicker than cellophane, at least in this light. Unable to help himself, John allowed his eyes to drift appreciatively over her. He might not be crazy about the lady’s high-handed manner and her less than winning personality, but he certainly had no complaints when it came to the way she looked. The lady was very easy on the eyes. And hard on a man who wanted no entanglements.
The light coming from the dressing room behind her moved along her body like a lover’s hand, bringing attention to the supple curves just in case he had missed them.
He hadn’t.
Knowing he had to speak before he completely swallowed his tongue, John tried to downplay his reaction. He turned his back on Courtney. The mist on the mirror obscured her just enough for him to function.
He poured water into his cup. “You’re staring. What’s wrong? This isn’t your toothbrush, in case you’re wondering.”
The hem of her nightgown brushed along her thigh, reminding Courtney just how short it was. She wished she’d thought to put on a robe. But then, Gabriel wasn’t supposed to have been in here. He was supposed to have obeyed the rules.
Just what she needed, a rebel.
Like her.
Courtney crossed her arms before her. Pride prevented her from making a grab for the towel on the rack to cover up. She’d just have to brazen this out.
Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “You’re supposed to lock the door when you’re in here.”
Her critical tone brought back memories. None of them pleasant. “It’s early.” He rinsed, then spat. Setting the cup down, his eyes met hers in the mirror. “I didn’t think your kind got up before noon.”
“My kind?” she echoed. Her eyebrows rose so high, they nearly touched her hairline. Anger filled her like a rough, physical entity. Who the hell did he think he was, lumping her with others as if she were a playing card to be shuffled into a deck?
Furious, she raised her chin. “What would you know about ‘my kind’?”
It was a poor choice of words, but he was too annoyed at her tone to apologize. Her chin made a nice target. He ignored it and congratulated himself on his restraint. When he trusted his voice to answer her, it was low, and dangerous.
“I was married to one of ‘your kind.’”
The admission stopped her cold. She hadn’t known that. It suddenly occurred to Courtney that there was a great deal she didn’t know about this man who was standing almost naked in her bathroom. About the only thing she did know was that any woman under the age of ninety would have gladly paid to be in her place.
His words hung between them like a damp shower curtain, heavy and murky. She thought of the bright eyed child who’d asked her to be her mommy. It was her that Courtney’s heart went out to.
“Katie’s mother?”
He didn’t like talking about Diane, especially not with a stranger, but Courtney managed to get him so angry so fast—
With effort, he banked down his emotions. “Katie’s mother,” he acknowledged.
“And she was…” Her voice trailed off as she looked for the right words. “Well off?”
Maybe he did this sort of a thing for a living, she thought suddenly. A good-looking carpenter offering a broad shoulder to cry on to emotionally vulnerable women. It wasn’t an implausible scenario.
No, that wasn’t fair. She’d been the one to approach him, not the other way around. But maybe that was part of his technique, too. He hadn’t exactly waited all that long before accepting her offer, had he?
“Filthy rich.” He said the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. As if having money tainted someone. He didn’t expect her to buy that, did he? After all, that was why he’d entered into this arrangement of theirs. For money. “And now she’s dead. End of subject.”
She hadn’t known that, either. Courtney blew out a breath. Did it upset him to talk about his late wife? Though his tone was curt, she didn’t think so. He didn’t look as if he’d lost the love of his life. Taking another glance at Gabriel’s face, she knew condolences would have been out of order.
But something had hurt him, she would have bet anything on it. She’d seen that look before, in her own eyes when she’d glimpsed in the mirror. Feeling awkward, Courtney shrugged. “Sorry.”
He didn’t want her pity. Just enough of her money to cover Katie’s medical expenses. “Don’t be,” he said brusquely.
The big jerk, couldn’t he accept anything graciously? “I mean I was sorry I brought it up.”
She was tired of talking to the back of his head. Hand on his shoulder, Courtney roughly turned him around to face her.
“Look, do you think you could force yourself to speak in complete sentences? Parsons is coming over this morning to see me. Us. Specifically, probably to look you over at close range. He’s not expecting much, but I don’t want him thinking I married Rambo or Clint Eastwood.”
With an economy of movement, he removed her hand from his shoulder, then replaced the toothpaste on the medicine cabinet shelf. “You’re mixing your images.”
He’d lost her. “What?”
John spared her a glance over his shoulder. God, but he was glad their marriage had a termination clause in it. “It’s either Rambo and Dirty Harry, or Sylvester Stallone and Clint Eastwood.” Shutting the medicine cabinet, he turned to face her again. “One set is fiction, the other’s real.”
Now he was critiquing the way she spoke? “You can be very annoying, you know that?”
Without blinking an eye, he leaned over her and answered, “So can you.”
He was in her space, crowding her. Affecting her. Courtney was far more aware of him than she was happy about, but she’d be damned if she’d allow him to see it. “Well, we have that in common, don’t we?”
She was glaring at him. Her expression in no way undermined the total effect she was having on him. And there was no way John could divorce himself from the fact that the woman’s body could have been classified as a lethal weapon.
Knowing it infuriated her, he let his eyes travel up to her face. The journey began at her feet. “Think you could see your way into putting something on?”
Insolent jerk. Courtney couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt as physically vulnerable as she did now. Feeling cornered, she lashed out. “Don’t you dictate to me.”
Dictate? Did she think this was some sort of a power struggle?
“I’m telling you for your own good.”
Just because she’d said a few words before an altar and signed a piece of paper—a piece of paper that would be null and void soon enough—didn’t give him the right to order her around. She could damn well walk around stark naked if she wanted to. This was her house, not his.
The fact that she knew she was being completely irrational didn’t stop her. Gabriel really did bring out the worst in her, she thought.
“Oh, really? For my own good?” Her chin rose pugnaciously. “And why would that be?” Sarcasm filled her voice even as she struggled not to let him get the better of her. “What’s going to happen to me if I don’t run off like a good little girl and put something on?”
She smelled of sleep, he thought, and something else. Something seductively tempting. As tempting as those breasts she was inadvertently thrusting at him as she issued her challenge.
John clenched his hands at his sides, struggling to hold himself in check. “You might get more than you bargained for.”
“From you?” Her eyes narrowed. When threatened, or afraid, it was best to go on the offensive, and right now, she was a little of both. “I don�
�t think so. I’ve got your number, Gabriel, and I know exactly what you’re capable of.”
If it was the last thing he did, he was going to wipe that smug look off her face. “Think again.”
It probably was going to be the last thing he did, heaven help him. Before she could move out of his way, John caught her by the shoulders and brought her to him, behaving exactly the way he’d always abhorred.
Courtney opened her mouth to upbraid him. To call him every name she could think of. The sound died in her throat, transforming into something that was half curse, half whimper.
This time, there was no prelude, no gentleness to lull her into a false sense of security. No tender touch along her cheek to drug her.
This time, the explosion came immediately, setting her on fire as neatly, as effectively, as if he’d physically struck a match to her.
Suddenly Courtney found her hands winding into his damp hair instead of pushing him away the way she’d intended.
His body was hard, demanding, as it pressed against hers. Her response to that was immediate, too, as if it had been programmed into her. Or, at the very least, preordained. She could feel her body quivering as he molded her to him.
Or was she molding herself to him? The lines blurred. There was only his mouth, his hands, reducing her to a state of almost mindless passion. Her breath evaporated in her lungs, leaving her gasping as she struggled to grab a little more of this ecstasy she’d been tendered.
Greedy for his taste, her mouth worked over his, snuffing out her anger and substituting need in its place.
She hated him for making her want him like this. And she did. She wanted him in the worst way. But the very worst thing she could do was let him suspect how she felt.
How could he not know?
She blocked the thought from her mind, blocked out everything but the sensations that were spiraling through her body as every fiber of her being was drawn into this raw kiss.
He could have devoured her. Damn it, he wanted to hate her, to despise everything she stood for. But he couldn’t hate and want at the same time. And his body was in a state of rebellion, turning his mind, his common sense, against him.
Wanted: Husband, Will Train Page 9
