by Jill Shalvis
Kat held her close, touched by Bitsy’s obvious pleasure in her becoming a family member, however temporary. “Better keep thinking of me as a friend, since we’ll remain friends a lot longer than sisters-in-law.”
Bitsy quizzed her with a raised brow and a knowing smile. Kat felt herself blush to the roots of her flaming red hair. Even though she and Andrew were physically compatible, Bitsy needed to remember that had nothing to do with a real marriage. And anyway, Kat wasn’t looking for a real marriage.
“There’s a hormonal attraction. I’ll grant you that, but that’s all it is.”
Bitsy’s brow slid up another notch.
Harry Murdoch was occupied with Andrew across the room. Still she lowered her voice. “Don’t be goofy, Bitsy. You know I’m not looking for a real marriage, and neither is your brother. Remember, we’ve got a plan here, an agreement. Andrew and I are simply taking care of mutual needs in a slightly unorthodox but relatively uncomplicated manner.”
Bitsy, ever playful, looked uncharacteristically serious. “Perhaps you’ll take care of needs the other one doesn’t know exists.”
Kat refused to touch that with a ten-foot pole. “What? Is my new husband a gourmet cook?”
Bitsy’s smile acknowledged Kat’s attempt to lighten the conversation. “Andrew screws up making Jell-O.”
Kat flopped onto the beige leather sofa. “We’re doomed. You know what a lousy cook I am.”
“Nah, Mrs. Fitzwillie will save you.”
“Mrs. Fitz-who?”
“Fitzwillie. She comes five days a week and takes care of the house and laundry. Lucky for you two culinary inepts, she also takes care of all the cooking. She even stockpiles food for the weekends when she’s off. And then there’s Anton. He’s a dear old man who works part-time as the gardener.”
Kat brightened considerably. “Maybe it won’t be too bad living in the tranquil palace after all.”
She missed Bitsy’s response. Andrew caught and held her attention as he escorted Harry Murdoch to the door. Standing on the other side of the aquarium, he seemed a part of the exotic seascape. With his broad-shouldered good looks, he could have been Neptune commanding the depths.
“Yeah, and I’m Charlie Tuna,” Kat muttered to herself.
“Huh?”
“It’s actually a bit disconcerting.” She continued her solo conversation.
Bitsy waved a hand in front of Kat’s face. “Earth to Kat. What’s disconcerting?”
“Andrew.”
As if he knew he was the object of discussion, he watched Kat and Bitsy from across the room even after he joined Edward and Jackson. Kat refused to back down from his inscrutable gaze. After what seemed like minutes but proved only seconds, he shifted his attention to the two men beside him.
“Andrew? How’s that?”
“It’s those damn fish and his music.”
“What’ve you got against those poor fish? And what music?”
Kat realized she may have made a slight tactical error. She’d taken Andrew Martin Winthrop III at face value. Slotted him into a neat little box. She didn’t like finding parts that didn’t fit.
She eyed Bitsy accusingly. “The fish are so…so…well…alive. And did you know he likes jazz music?”
“Kat, it’s an aquarium. It would be really weird if the fish weren’t alive, and yeah, I guess I knew Andrew liked jazz. What’s the big deal? Are you feeling okay?”
Kat gulped in a deep breath. Bitsy was absolutely right. She was overreacting. She needed to listen to her behavior tape again!
“Sorry. You’re right. It’s no big deal. I guess I’m more keyed up about today than I realized.”
Andrew, Edward and Jackson joined them. Kat deliberately avoided glancing at Andrew, as if she’d have a clue what was going on behind his shuttered gray eyes.
Edward took Bitsy by the arm. “Well, we’ll be going now.”
“But what about the champagne?”
Edward tugged her to her feet. “The baby-sitter needs us, dear.”
“But I called just before the ceremony and everything was fine.”
Edward hustled her toward the door, leaving Andrew, Kat and Jackson to trail behind. “And I called just a few minutes ago, and she needs us home as soon as possible.”
Edward opened the front door, hugged Kat, shook hands with Andrew and Jackson, and urged his wife outside.
Bitsy grabbed a gift-wrapped package off the front seat, which she thrust at Kat and Andrew. “But they need to unwrap their wedding gift…”
“Say goodbye, Bitsy.”
Kat elbowed Andrew and Jackson. The trio called out in unison, “Goodbye, Bitsy.”
“Funny. Very funny,” Bitsy managed before Edward stuffed her into the car. She winked knowingly at Kat from the passenger seat. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “I need to get going, as well.”
Andrew shook his hand, every inch the gracious host. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’d love for you to stop by whenever you can. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”
Kat would bet the farm there was no phone call. He was allowing her a private goodbye with her brother.
Jackson stopped short of a hug and squeezed her shoulder instead. “Just let me know if you ever need any help, kid.”
Jackson’s concern rendered Kat perilously close to tears. “Thanks, I will. And Jackie?”
“Yeah?”
She offered a gentle shove out the door. “Don’t call me kid.”
He laughed. “Okay. Okay. Don’t forget to tell the parents before tomorrow’s paper comes out.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call right now.”
“Better you than me.”
Kat closed the door and turned around to face her new husband. She held out the gift. “Bitsy’s your sister, so why don’t you do the honors?”
“Go ahead.”
She shoved the package at him. Since it was from Bitsy, there was no telling what might be inside. “Really. You open it.”
“Okay. I’ll bite.” Andrew tore off the paper and lifted the box top.
How prophetic. From one finger dangled his and her matching edible underwear.
“DO YOU WANT TO GET the phone calls out of the way first, or would you prefer a quick tour of the house?”
“I’d rather get the phone calls over with.”
“There’s a phone over there, or you can call from the study if you want privacy.”
Kat shrugged. “I’ll call from here. Everything’s been out in the open so far. I don’t see the need to start keeping secrets.”
Andrew reminded himself that the secret he kept from her was for the good of the child they were planning. Kat curled up in a chair and punched a series of numbers into the portable phone. Andrew attempted to study her with detachment.
He noted again that Kat Dever…make that Kat Winthrop… was no beauty. In fact, she bordered on plain with her freckles and the pugnacious set of her jaw. Her legs were good, lovely even, but he’d seen better. God knows she didn’t attempt flattery. So what was it about his new wife that had made him forget their audience when he kissed her? Why did he ache now for another taste of her lips?
Kat looked at him strangely and he realized he was staring. “That was a wash.”
“Huh?” Now that sounded like a successful attorney.
“Dad and Phoebe weren’t in. I left a message with Hayes-he’s the butler who came with Phoebe when she married Dad-but I’ll be surprised if I hear from him today.”
“Will he be upset tomorrow when he finds out we got married without him present?”
“You’ve got to be kidding! Dad’ll be upset because I’m in the news and it might reflect on him. I could convert to Buddhism and move to Tibet, and Dad wouldn’t care as long as it was quiet and didn’t reflect on the Hamilton name.”
An odd note colored her voice; odder still, Andrew felt an alien urge to comfort her. “Maybe you sim
ply misread him.”
Kat snorted. “Nope. Dad laid a solid case of blame on me for the bad press when Nick embezzled those millions and then walked out on me.”
Andrew glimpsed old hurt in the rigid set of her shoulders. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Rand Hamilton blaming his daughter instead of standing by her. Since they were both attorneys, he’d had some dealings with Rand in the past. Andrew had always considered him a bastard, he just hadn’t known how much of one.
And how had she wound up married to someone like Nick Devereaux? “Did you love him?”
Surprise widened her azure eyes. The question astonished Andrew. How she felt about her first husband should mean nothing to him.
“It was a long time ago and I was young.”
Kat’s non-answer told everything. Not that it mattered to him anyway.
Andrew lowered himself to the sofa, automatically creasing his trousers.
Kat thrust the phone toward him. “Your turn.”
Andrew declined. “A.W. and Mother are entertaining our esteemed senator this afternoon on their boat. I guess we’ll both break the news later in the day.”
“I’ve still got another call. I have a mother you know.” She punched in a series of numbers.
“The one with the dead president and Russian nobility fixations.”
“One and the same. Hello, Mom?…yes, I know I should’ve told you I was seeing someone. But, I need to tell you…yes, Mom, he is quite a looker, but I need to tell you…”
Apparently even the loquacious Kat was no match for her mother. Kat heaved a sigh and took a deep breath, straining her breasts against the bright blue dress and accelerating his pulse.
“Mom, I’m married,” she announced. “What do you mean who? Of course the one with his hand on my thigh!”
From his seat on the couch, Andrew heard the warbled tone on the other end of the line escalate in volume. Kat held the phone away from her ear.
“Today…yes, I know you’re going out of town for the week.” She threw Andrew a panicked look and motioned frantically. “My new phone number? Okay, I’ll hold while you get a pen and paper.” She covered the mouthpiece and hissed, “Quick, what’s your number? I can’t not know your number…our number…if I just married you.”
Andrew scribbled the number on the back of a magazine off the end table.
Kat grabbed it from him as he wrote the final number and relayed it to her mother. She wrote a single word and shoved it at him.
Birthday?
He mouthed the information and she repeated it into the phone. “Okay, call me when you get to California and get settled in.”
She clicked the off button and rubbed the back of her neck. The same neck he remembered as warm and silky. “Whew. At least that’s over.”
“What’s the birthday all about?”
Kat launched herself out of the chair. “Numerology. She and my stepfather leave this afternoon for a New Age convention in California. She wanted to get a fix on your numbers on the way out.”
He’d heard of mismatched couples, but Kat’s parents won the prize. “She was married to Rand?”
“The numerology came after the divorce, but they’re a case in point. Opposites may attract, but it’s only for a short period of time.”
Andrew reasoned the attraction he felt for his wife was novel. Kat Devereaux Winthrop stood apart from any woman he’d met before. So he was attracted to her quirkiness. Unusual on his part, but not totally irrational. He further reasoned the novelty would wear off quick enough and he’d be back on an even keel.
He hoped it was damn soon.
KAT TRAILED DOWN THE HALL behind Andrew, the plush beige carpet absorbing their steps. Aside from the overwhelming neutrality of the interior, the house was quite lovely. A long rectangle, all interior rooms opened onto a central courtyard with a small garden pond.
The home tour was almost over and Kat vowed not to walk behind Andrew once she knew her way around. It was too darned distracting-which was why she didn’t hear what he said. She was too busy appreciating the immediate view.
“Huh?”
Andrew stopped abruptly and Kat plowed into him. She latched onto the first thing she came in contact with to steady herself. Taut, firm buttocks tightened under her touch. She resisted the urge to squeeze, instead dropping her hands to her side immediately.
“Sorry about that. Um, what were you saying?”
Andrew turned to face her and the hallway seemed to shrink considerably. “I said, this is our room.”
He threw open the door behind him and ushered her inside. A general impression of more of the same hit her, but the bed captured her attention. Swathed in yards of mosquito netting draped from the ceiling, it dominated one wall. Kind of erotic that netting…visions of her and Andrew playing a private game of Tarzan and Jane beckoned like a jumbo pack of double-stuffed Oreos.
“Our as in yours and whose?”
“Our as in yours and mine.”
Kat quivered at the thought of those tight buns snuggled up next to her every night. “Um, thanks, but that’s really not necessary. You’ve got plenty of space and I’ll be happy in any of your guest rooms.” She’d bargained for sharing a house when they got married. She’d even bargained for sleeping together-after all, she intended to make a baby-but sharing a bedroom for however long she was here insured an intimacy she hadn’t bargained on.
“Absolutely out of the question.”
She didn’t care for his tone. “Why? Give me one good reason.”
“I could give you several, but for starters I refuse to have Mrs. Fitzwillie speculating as to why we don’t share a room.”
“So, for your pride’s sake we have to-”
Andrew cut her off. “No. My pride plays a secondary role, but Mrs. Fitzwillie would be devastated if she found out I’d entered into an arrangement.” His entire countenance softened. “Her husband died just before she came to work for me. They didn’t have any children and she was lonely. In the past nine years, she’s been more like a mother to me than my own mother.”
Well, Kat wasn’t exactly thrilled about disappointing a nice little old lady-especially one who cooked-but there had to be a way around sharing a bed with this man on a nightly basis. She knew herself. Too much of a good thing… “I could get up before she gets here and she’d never know.”
“She’d know.” Andrew advanced until he stood before her. He clamped his hands on her shoulders and drew her to him. His voice lowered to a provocative level. “For Mrs. Fitzwillie to believe anything less than we’re passionately, head-over-heels in love is not acceptable.” His hands slid to her upper arms in a caress.
Expensive cologne mingled with his essential maleness, the heady scent intoxicating her. Even as she swayed toward him, she objected, “I’m not sure either one of us is up to pretending to be head-over-heels in love.”
His breath brushed the planes of her face as he lowered his mouth to hers. “Then we’ll just have to practice.”
His lips nuzzled and nipped at hers until she responded to his sensual coaxing. His tongue teased the moist heat of her mouth and her nipples tightened in desire of such ministrations. An aching lethargy unfurled between her thighs.
The giving, generous kiss brought to mind his consideration for Mrs. Fitzwillie. Kat anticipated cool courtesy for his employee, but his tender concern dismayed her. The thought had her wriggling out of his arms and stepping out of reach.
His eyes questioned her. The hand he ran through his midnight-black hair trembled.
“I’ll do my best to uphold my end with Mrs. Fitzwillie.” Her own hand proved unsteady as she combed her fingers through her hair, but she strove for a flippant tone. “And we’ll share this bed, but just for the record, Toto always sleeps in my room.”
“Not on the bed.”
“No, he has his own bed, but in the room.” Kat swallowed a smirk. One night of Toto’s snoring and Andrew would beg her to move into a guest room.
�
��Okay.”
Kat backed toward the bedroom door. “I’ll go get my suitcase.”
“Can I help?” Every vestige of softness and passion had vanished, replaced by his customary cool and correct demeanor.
She heaved a sigh of relief. This was the Andrew she knew and didn’t find dangerously endearing.
“No, that’s not necessary.” She knew she had to clamp down on thoughts of me Jane, you Tarzan and strategically draped mosquito netting. “Oh, and unless I’m ovulating, we don’t need to bother with sex.”
She closed the door behind her on the thick silence.
Sometimes self-preservation was a bitch.
4
D AMN HIS WIFE with her perky breasts and sleek legs! Andrew stalked into the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face. Twice now in as many weeks, she’d referred to intimacy with him as a waste of time unless it involved procreation. What, did she consider his ego her own personal trampoline to trounce on whenever she felt the urge?
Spending plenty of time at the office in the upcoming months sounded like a plan. He could decidedly do without desperately wanting to bury himself in that quixotic woman while she casually announced making love was a chore they could postpone until she was ovulating.
Cold water trickled under the edge of his collar. The cool marble counter beneath his fingertips soothed his male pride. His partnership hovered within his grasp. It was all that had ever mattered. It was all that mattered now.
He heard his wife enter their bedroom. Andrew quickly dried his face.
He opened the bathroom door and found her engaged in a futile wrestling match with a suitcase nearly her size. Her contortions molded her dress across her rounded behind and hiked her hemline to midthigh.
Desperate for a distraction, he offered, “If you let me help you with that, I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
The faint blush that crept up her cheeks surprised him.
“I guess I could use some help,” she conceded.
He hauled the behemoth on top of the bed and felt a rising tide of annoyance at the thought of her dragging the heavy case all the way from her car rather than accept his earlier offer of help.
