by Teresa Hill
Cathie was stretched out on her stomach, sleeping maybe.
Her entire body was bare, save for the tiny bottom of an honest-to-goodness string bikini. Two little scraps of flowery material held together by strings, tied at either side of her hips.
He stood there taking in the broad expanse of bare skin, which had turned a pale, pale pink in the sun. Long legs, the swell of her bottom, the little dent at the base of her spine, the soft curves of her breasts pressed against the cushions, her arms stretched out above her head, hands dangling off the end of the lounge chair, her hair spread out across her back and her arms.
He must have made some kind of sound, giving himself away, because she turned drowsily to him and gave him a lazy smile.
“Back already?”
He nodded.
“Good game?”
He had no idea. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“I’m looking for my wife.”
She grinned then, looking a little more awake, not moving from her spot on the chair. “Matt, I am your wife. Remember?”
“No.” He came closer, surveying the space a little more closely. There was no one on the beach, and unless someone came right up to the edge of the bungalow’s property and peered into the back corner of their tiny courtyard, they’d never be seen here. He suspected she knew that. “My wife would never sunbathe without her top. She wouldn’t wear anything like what you’ve got on out in public. She’s a very good girl. A preacher’s daughter.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He started stripping off his clothes. She was beautiful. He wanted her right here, right now, maybe as much as he ever had in his whole life. Which was hard to imagine, given how many times he’d made love to her on this island in the past thirteen days.
She still hadn’t moved. He found he didn’t want her to.
“What are you going to do with her, when you find her?” she asked.
Witch.
Surely she’d bewitched him.
“I’m going to do this,” he said, kneeling beside her chair, his hand skimming up the back of one thigh, from the back of her knee to the enticing curve of her bottom.
“Mmmm. That’s nice.”
Nice? He’d show her nice.
His mouth settled at the back of one of her knees. She whimpered, her whole body going tense. Good. So he wasn’t the only one.
He made a slow journey with his mouth from the back of her knees to her bottom, nibbling on all the pretty, sun-warmed skin, undoing the ties at either side of that silly excuse for a bathing suit but leaving the triangular scraps of material in place.
He nibbled his way around the mounds of her hips, trailing along the now bare skin of her thighs and onto her back, settling himself on the chair on top of her. His hands worked their way up her back, softly, teasing her, liking the way her body writhed beneath his.
“Matt, please,” she said.
“Please what?”
“I want to kiss you, too. I want to touch you.”
“In a minute,” he said. “I’m not done yet.”
It was like a veritable feast of skin awaiting him, and he wanted his mouth on every bit of it. There was a raging heat inside of him that he ruthlessly denied, thinking he might never see her like this again, because she was shy and she’d set him up for this, but it wouldn’t have been easy for her, outside in broad daylight.
She probably thought they’d end up inside in their bed, and they would. Just not yet. He wanted her here first.
His mouth settled into that little notch near the bottom of her spine. Her entire body came up off the chair, but there was nowhere for her to go. He had her pinned down.
“That’s good?” he asked, doing it again.
“Yes.”
He kissed her back some more. It was like going on a treasure hunt, finding some new, wonderfully responsive spot on her body.
She moved restlessly beneath him. He stayed where he was, playing with her back, his hands gliding up to find the outer curves of her pretty breasts.
Slowly, slowly, he made his way up her spine to her neck. She had the softest skin on her neck, and there was a spot there…
She groaned again. He settled himself more fully on top of her, his erection settling into the sweet curves of her bottom. She wriggled against him, the pressure exquisite, and he sank his teeth into that spot on her neck that drove her wild.
He’d meant to make it last even longer. To peel off that silly excuse for a swimsuit and flip her over and start from her toes and work his way up the front of her body this time. Letting her lie there with the sun on her bare breasts and wait until he got to them and to her mouth, until he finally got inside of her.
But he didn’t have it in him to wait that long. So he stretched out beside her and pulled her into his arms.
“Matt?” she protested.
“No one’s going to see. It’s just us and the birds and the sky, and they don’t care.”
He kissed her long and hard, thought as best he could about how he wanted to do this, and finally settled for rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. He kissed her one more time and then eased her thighs apart, groaning at the heat he found there.
She wanted him, too. There was no denying it.
He palmed her hips, drawing her to him, slipping barely inside. She cried out at the first intimate touch and then bit her lip to keep from making another sound.
“Cathie, there’s no one to hear, either. Except me.” And he liked all those little sounds she made. The surprise and the urgency, all the things she couldn’t hold back.
Her body stretched and gave, and he slipped inside, pulling her down on top of him. There was heat, a rich, moist heat, and her body had a way of grabbing onto his and holding him there, that made him crazy, too. The pressure was exquisite.
He took her by the arms and pushed her up. She didn’t understand at first, and he somehow managed to bite back a smile. Her innocence was a constant surprise and a pleasure he’d never anticipated enjoying so much.
“Like this,” he said, settling her firmly on top of him.
She groaned, as her new position took him more deeply inside of her, and then she wriggled her hips, and he nearly lost it right there.
The sun was going down. It was somewhere behind her head, and the light made her hair and her skin shine like burnt gold. Her body was toned and slender, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
His hands slid up her nearly flat stomach. He cupped her breasts, watching the play of his hands on her, watching everything, the sight of her nearly undoing him.
She’d figured out what to do now, figured out the power this position gave her, and she used it ruthlessly, moving ever so slightly and so tightly against him, rocking back and forth, holding him so deeply inside of her.
His hands bit into her hips. He feared he’d leave marks on her. And his body bucked up, going deeper and deeper. She cried out, her body tightening around him. He watched her face, watched the pleasure come over her, and when she finally collapsed in his arms, he thrust inside of her once more, then again, and then the whole world seemed to come apart.
He could swear he felt it shift and shake beneath him. Everything in the whole, wide world.
He cried out himself, crushing her to him, kissing her again and again and again, until every muscle in his body went slack, and they lay there in a tangle of arms and legs and bare skin, simply unable to move.
Cathie returned from her honeymoon in a daze, hardly even sure of her own name, her brain was so scrambled from the sheer pleasure of the time they’d spent together. She felt foolish and naive and completely out of her league, hadn’t even known that kind of satisfaction and need existed in this world. As much as she’d ever wanted Matt…she just hadn’t known.
And he knew it.
She sighed and leaned back in her wide, leather seat in the first-class cabin.
“You okay?” Matt, from the seat beside her, took her hand in his.
She nodded. “Just…” Foolish? Embarrassed? Uncertain? She felt all of those things. And one more. Regrets. “I don’t want to leave.”
He gave her an honest-to-goodness grin, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in years. Was this what wild sex in broad daylight in a courtyard did to a man? Or was it something more?
He seemed so happy.
Would they be able to hang onto those feelings, once they were back home? Or was this just the look of a man who was thoroughly relaxed after two weeks on a beach in the middle of a North Carolina winter?
“We’ll come back,” he said. “If I can find the time, before the baby comes.”
Her heart gave a little lurch, thinking that he wanted to go back, thinking of how happy he’d seemed there, wondering if she could make him that happy day to day, back home.
Surely if he could feel like that, he’d never want her or the baby to leave. He’d never want those feelings to stop.
“I’d like that,” she said, thinking that maybe she did know what to do after all to make her marriage work.
She’d just love him. Completely. Without reservation. As she would if they’d gone into this marriage for real, and he knew that she truly loved him and always had. She’d show him how their lives together could be and hope that he wanted it without any time limit at all, that he could love her as much as she loved him.
They got back to North Carolina shortly after three in the afternoon, grumbling halfheartedly about the cold after the bright sunshine they’d left behind.
He drove into the gated subdivision he called home, watching Cathie’s face as she took in the large, brick homes and the wide, lush lawns. The houses looked solid and absolutely respectable, and they were expensive. One more way of saying he’d arrived. Cathie would probably take one look inside and see right through his motives, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
He pulled into his driveway, hit a button in the car to open the three-car garage and parked inside. Cathie was drowsy. She didn’t stir until he opened her car door. He had the ridiculous urge to carry her over the threshold, and then thought, Why not?
“Hang on,” he said, lifting her into his arms.
“Matt?” She finally opened her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“You are the bride, right?”
“Yes,” she said, her arms clasped around his shoulders.
“This is the last wedding tradition I know about. So if there’s anything else, you’ll have to let me know. I’d hate to miss anything.”
“I think we hit all the high points,” she said, laughing.
They certainly had on the honeymoon. But then, people claimed honeymoons never lasted.
Matt carried her around to the front walkway, so they could go in the front door. It didn’t seem right to go in through the garage.
“Wow!” She gazed up at it. “Do you think the two of us will fit in this house?”
“I think we’ll manage,” he claimed.
“Did you buy the biggest house you could find?”
“What if I did?” he said, thinking they might as well get that over and done with. He got to the front door and frowned. “How’s a guy supposed to open the door with arms full of bride?”
Cathie laughed again. It was worth making the gesture to hear her laugh.
“Here.” He turned her toward the state-of-the-art digital lock. “You open it. The code’s your parents’ phone number.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Easy to remember and hardly anyone would connect it to me now.”
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. He carried her inside and said, “Welcome home, Mrs. Monroe.”
She kissed him softly on the lips, her face lingering near his. “Thank you.”
He didn’t quite know what to say, so he kissed her again and again. Kicked the door closed and thought about carrying her upstairs to his bed or to the big sofa in the family room. Cathie gave him every indication that she’d have no problem with either of those options.
He was thinking about it when the phone rang. He hadn’t intended to answer, but he’d been away from his office for more than two weeks.
He kissed her again. The phone at the house stopped ringing, but not five seconds later, his cell phone started. Matt lifted his head and set her on her feet.
“Sorry,” he said, reaching for the phone. “I have a feeling this is the office.”
She stood waiting while he took the call. As he expected, they had a problem he needed to fix.
“If you can drag yourself away from your wife,” Brenda Masterson, his assistant, said.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“You haven’t managed to stay out of this office for two straight days, much less two and a half weeks, since I came to work for you six years ago. Mrs. Monroe must be something.”
“She is,” he said.
“And you two just got back?”
“Not five minutes ago.”
Brenda whistled. “She’s not gonna be happy about you walking out on her five minutes after you got home.”
“Really?”
“Oh, honey. You’ve got so much to learn about being a married man.”
“I’m sure between you and my wife, you can tell me everything I need to know,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”
Cathie had drifted into the formal living room, which looked a lot like an overstuffed furniture store to him. He could have sworn the room was so big, until the decorator had brought in all this stuff.
“I’m afraid I have to go to the office for a while,” he said.
Cathie just looked at him. Not upset. Not surprised. Just waiting.
“Tell me how to do this, Cathie. Because I just don’t know.”
“Do what?”
“This, uh…marriage thing.”
She shook her head, smiled a bit. “We’re doing all right so far, aren’t we?”
He nodded. Things had been just fine.
“I think we can make it up as we go along. I don’t want to get in your way. Or make things difficult for you. I just… I want you to be happy, Matt.”
“I want you to be happy, too,” he said.
“So, we’ll just see how it goes?”
“Okay. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but…let me give you the grand tour. Your things should be here, somewhere.”
They walked quickly through the house, and she managed not to frown. He saw it, as she must see it, a place that looked like a decorator had done it and no one had moved in yet. Except for his office at the back of the house, the weights set up in the basement and a few personal items in his bedroom.
“Okay, I wrote a check and gave the woman carte blanche,” he finally said. “Can you fix it?”
She frowned. “That depends. What do you want done with it?”
“Make it look like someone lives here?”
“I’m afraid the trick to that is having someone actually live here, Matt.”
“I live here.”
“But you’re never here, right? And being in the office downstairs and sleeping don’t count.”
“So, you’ll live here. Make it look like you live here.”
“No. It’s yours. It should be what you want it to be.”
“Make it look like what you’d want it to be,” he said. “That’ll be fine.”
He wanted to tell her to make it stop looking empty, stop feeling empty, but that was more than he was ready to reveal even to her, although, she probably knew that, too.
“I have to go,” he said, wondering what a fake husband who happened to be sleeping with his wife did at a moment like this?
She stood across the bedroom that had never really felt like his, running her hand along the bed. “My things are in the room down the hall.”
“I know,” he said carefully. When he’d had them put there, he hadn’t anticipated the kind of
honeymoon they’d had. “You can have any room you like.”
Looking as tentative as he felt, she said, “This one?”
He nodded, holding her gaze, realizing only then how much he wanted her here every night when he went to sleep and every morning when he woke up.
He held his breath until she said, “Can we share?”
“That would work for me.” And then, before he tumbled her onto the bed and christened their new room, he turned away and said, “I may be late. Make yourself at home.”
They gave him six kinds of hell at the office. For being gone so long. For not even calling to check in. For coming back to the office so soon after he and Cathie returned. He took it and said as little as possible, surprised at how many people wished him well and congratulated him. He wasn’t one to bring his personal life into the office, although he tried to be understanding when other people had personal issues distracting them or keeping them away. They were a tight-knit group. He expected a lot from them and they gave it. He tried to be understanding in return.
He had a mountain of e-mail and faxes to deal with, a long list of people who claimed they had to see him right away, and one major crisis with one of his biggest customers, whose system had somehow been hacked into early this morning. He did what had to be done and four hours later was on his way out of the office when Jim Dornen, his attorney, walked in, grinning and holding out his hand.
“You really did it? You got married?” Jim asked.
Matt took his hand. “I did.”
Three times divorced himself, Jim said, “Tell me you got a prenup?”
“No.”
“Good God, are you nuts? Do you remember what you’re worth? What this company’s worth?”
“Not exactly. I haven’t seen a stock quote in two and a half weeks. Why?”
Jim rolled his eyes. “She’ll kill us. You’ll walk away from her one day, or even worse, she’ll leave you, and she’ll kill us in the divorce settlement.”
Matt grinned. “No, she won’t.”
“Hey, if I had a nickel for every fool who’s said that to me—”
“You don’t know her, Jim.”
