by Seton, Cora
“So we’d share a bathroom with another couple?” Ella shook her head. “I’m not into that.”
Austin kept quiet, opening doors to show her the various rooms. “Here’s ours for now. Mason and Regan bought us a bed.”
They entered the room and stood silently, gazing at it.
It was plain but adequate, with little evidence that Austin had spent several nights here, except for the jacket tossed over the back of an easy chair that sat in one corner. The bed was modest, and she wished it was larger—a California King, at least, rather than this queen-sized set. Sleeping in such close proximity with Austin guaranteed they’d touch inadvertently during the night.
Her skin heated at the thought and she drew in a breath, angry at herself for allowing another handsome man to shake her—even slightly—from her convictions. It was bad enough she’d ever fallen for Anthony.
At least for now they wouldn’t be sharing a bathroom with anyone. Regan had placed them as far away from her and Mason’s bedroom as she could while remaining on the same floor. Obviously, the newlyweds wanted privacy, too.
“We can sleep in separate rooms until they come home, right?”
An expression flitted across Austin’s face so quickly she didn’t quite catch it before he’d smoothed his features into still lines again. Had it been disappointment?
“If you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
“What about Mason and Regan’s bed?”
“They might notice when they get back if one of us uses their room. Besides, we need to practice.”
“Sleeping together?”
“Acting like a husband and wife.” He moved closer. Took her hand. Ella snatched it away. “That’s not very wifely,” Austin said.
“There’s no one here to see us.”
“That’s why it’s called practice.” He held out his hand. “If we’re going to be husband and wife, we have to be able to touch each other.”
Ella gave him her hand reluctantly. Austin held it in his.
“See, that’s not so bad.”
It wasn’t bad at all. It was… nice. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her as she turned away from him, disengaging her hand. “What else is there to see?” Confusion made her sound angry. She wasn’t angry, though. She just wanted to know why his touch affected her so much. She found herself holding her breath as he edged past her out of the bedroom, and led the way up another narrow set of stairs behind a door at the end of the hallway. She already wanted to touch him again. If he would only hold still for a moment and allow her to trace his muscles with her hands. She wanted to test his biceps. She wanted to slide her hands down his chest and feel the rock hard planes of his stomach. She wanted to reach around to move them over his ass.
She got herself under control and followed him up the stairs. The attic contained a series of small rooms that must have once held servants, and then a large nursery at one end. Ella sympathized with the maids who would have had to haul themselves and their small charges up and down all those stairs back in the olden days. She lingered in the door of the nursery, though. Its sky-blue walls needed a new coat of paint. Someone had painted puffy clouds on the ceiling, but now they were a dingy gray. Still, the room was large and would be airy with the windows open. Several children could bunk in here at a time. The idea of a number of little ones bouncing on beds, playing hide-and-go-seek, lolling on the floor reading books made her smile. Once she’d thought she wanted a houseful of her own.
Before Hollywood. Before Anthony.
Glancing out one of the front windows, she spotted the boy on the bicycle pedaling back toward town now, his head still turned toward the house. She figured there wasn’t much excitement for a kid out on this country lane. How would she feel stuck out here for the next twelve months with only a soldier for company?
And his brothers and their wives?
“You coming?” Austin was already halfway back down the hall. She followed him down to the second floor again. When they reached the bedroom he had designated as theirs, he lingered a moment. “I’ll bring up your suitcase and leave you to settle in. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to see the bunkhouse and give you the grand tour of the ranch.”
“Okay.” She was grateful for a break from the man’s presence. He’d thrown her off-kilter when he’d held her hand and she still hadn’t recovered. She shouldn’t feel like this. After the disaster with Anthony she’d be crazy to fall for another man.
But Austin wasn’t Anthony. He was far more intriguing.
The thought left her uneasy, both about the way she was constantly comparing the two men and by the realization that Anthony fared so badly when she did so. Had she been so consumed with her career and the Hollywood lifestyle that she hadn’t noticed how little she and Anthony had in common?
She had, hadn’t she?
Being with Anthony assuaged her feelings of insecurity in the business. She’d enjoyed acting at first, especially when the parts were coming thick and fast, and she was learning something new each day. She remembered the heady feeling of coming home late from a set, knowing she’d nailed a scene, knowing she’d pulled off something she hadn’t been able to do only weeks before. She’d enjoyed working her way up, studying the other actors, learning their tricks. That was the kind of mind she had—one that loved to grow and accomplish new things.
Then it had all changed. She’d hit some kind of wall. Not of her own making; more of a wall that the industry imposed on her. Hollywood was conservative. It liked sure things and she’d never quite become a sure thing. She was good, but she hadn’t reached great yet and she’d been closing in on thirty. She was beautiful, but not striking enough to make the transition to being an older character actress.
Then she’d met Anthony and she thought her luck had changed. Suddenly she was in the spotlight again. She’d picked up a great supporting role in The Bride Wore Black, and she thought it would be the film that put her over the top, but it hadn’t after all because while it was close to the right role for her, it wasn’t the right role. It was a shade too caustic. A shade too youthful. She’d needed to be cast as someone just a little older, a little warmer—but just as intelligent and funny.
That part had never come. Now it never would.
She thought about Austin. He was the real deal, with hard-won muscles, life experience and the self-confidence that went with it. His virility wasn’t something he put on in the morning like an Armani suit. It was intrinsic. Natural.
Sexy.
Ella sat down on the edge of the bed, flopped backward and finally admitted what she’d been holding back since she met Austin in the airport.
She was attracted to him.
Really attracted to him.
She was in big trouble.
Chapter 8
‡
Austin paced the length of the bunkhouse, turned on his heel and paced back again. The building was smaller than he remembered it. In his youth it had been filled with a succession of hired hands. A large bedroom at one end housed four cast-iron bunk beds that had been original to the ranch. In the center of the building was a rough living room that was currently devoid of furniture. He recalled a broken-down couch, a couple of easy chairs and a small television when he was a kid, but all that had been carted away at some point by his uncle, except for an old waist-high bookshelf in one corner built out of planks and two-by-fours. A small bathroom split off from the living room. A step down from the living room led to a cramped kitchen that had been stripped of its appliances. Austin was quickly rethinking his idea of moving Ella in here. It would take a lot of work to make it habitable, and he had no idea what they’d do with those bunk beds.
He sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep in them. Not when there was a beautiful, curvy woman around.
“Austin?”
He spun around, hoping Ella couldn’t read where his thoughts had traveled. “I was just coming to get you.”
“Is this the bunkhouse?” Her expressio
n echoed his earlier feelings. He had to admit it didn’t look too promising right now.
“It’s a little rougher than I remember.”
She moved around, peeking first into the bunk room, then crossed the living room to take a look at the kitchen. “It’s got good bones,” she pronounced.
“Really?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Really.” She faced him. “It’s occurring to me there’s a lot we should have talked about before we…”
“Got hitched?” he supplied.
“Yes.” She looked momentarily disconcerted and Austin bit back a smile. He liked it when he disconcerted her. It made her more… human… than her Hollywood actress persona.
He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “What should we have talked about?” And why was his western twang more pronounced when he spoke to her? It had faded a little during his time in the service. Maybe being home brought it out in him, but maybe he’d also noticed that twang seemed to act on Ella in a very interesting way. The more he relaxed into his natural accent, the more she watched him, like she was watching him now. She liked the country in him. She liked it a lot.
She was starting to like him. As hard as she was trying not to.
“I’m a very private person. Very private.” She crossed her arms, too. “It comes from being under scrutiny all the time by the press. Tabloids love unflattering photos of me. They wait until I forget myself for one moment and yawn, or rub my nose or frown, and then they snap the shot and plaster it everywhere. If I’m outside—if I’m anywhere in public—I have to be conscious of my every move. So I need a place I can go and be completely alone. Does that make sense?”
He nodded. It did make sense. “That sounds awful.” He couldn’t imagine being scrutinized like that. His whole career in the Special Forces had consisted of blending in, keeping a low profile—now more than ever, even though he was a mere civilian these days. He’d hate to think about anyone digging into his past—delving into the story about him and Edgars and Donovan.
“Well.” She shrugged. “Being a movie star is worth it, right?”
“Is it?”
She crossed the room to look out the wide front window that framed a view of Crescent Hall. “No. Actually, it’s not. Not anymore.”
“Because Anthony cheated on you?”
“Partly.” She held herself rigid and Austin wondered what the price of that control was. Did her body ache at the end of the day? Did she long for a hot bath and a strong massage? He knew something about keeping such a tight control over your emotions. The result was aches and pains.
He could give her a massage… he had strong fingers and could work her muscles until she melted right into the bed.
“This place only has one bedroom,” he pointed out. “And right now it’s full.”
She turned and flashed him one of her surprising, heart-stopping smiles. “Those bunks look pretty uncomfortable.”
“Heavy as all get-out, too.”
She moved to look into the bunk room again. “It’s a big space. What if we divided it up?”
He opened his mouth to protest that they had to keep up appearances. Besides, he’d already decided he wanted Ella in his bed at night.
No.
Hell.
She was still talking. “What if we set it up so that you walked into a main bedroom area, but we split the far end of the room into two offices? One for you and one for me. Then we’d each have a place we could go and shut the door. We’ll have to add a couple of windows so that all the rooms have adequate light…”
Austin was still trying to wrestle his mind out of a very sensual fantasy about just what they could get up to in bed. “Sounds good. Draw up a plan.”
If she noticed the tightness of his voice, she didn’t show it. “I will.” She came closer. Touched his arm. “I appreciate you letting me redesign the place. You’re being a really good sport about all of this.”
No, he wasn’t.
At her touch, Austin lost the shred of control that had kept his hands jammed in his pockets. He took hold of Ella’s bicep, pulled her in close and bent his head to kiss her. This wasn’t some sweet, get-to-know-you kind of kiss. It wasn’t a practice kiss, either. It was hungry, demanding. He didn’t know why he was doing it, or what he expected to come of it. He just knew he wanted it now and he was going to have it.
She sucked in a shocked breath just before his lips touched hers, but she yielded to him and her mouth was unexpectedly soft and delicious under his. She allowed him to taste her, to pull her even closer until her body pressed against him in all kinds of intimate ways. His arms tightened around her, every touch bringing his senses to life. It had been so long. So long…
With a tremendous effort, he pulled back. She almost staggered when he let her go, until he caught her again.
“More practice?” she asked, extricating herself from his arms.
Hell if he knew. “That’s right.”
“I think that’s enough of that, don’t you?” She folded her arms across her chest, but didn’t move away. He couldn’t read her reaction. Did she want him to agree with her, or push things further?
“You’re a beautiful woman. You’re my wife.”
She frowned. “Sort of. And we said—”
“I know what we said, but we were wrong. If we’re going to fool everyone, we have to get this right. I’ll be kissing you a lot this next year, Ella.” He reached out and tugged her closer. “Let’s try that again.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away, either.
He closed the space between them slowly, giving her every chance to change her mind. The fact that she didn’t—that she wanted this as much as he did, or at the very least was as curious—charged him all the more.
This time he wasn’t tender. He meant to be, but he couldn’t help himself. Ella was like water to a man dying of thirst. He wanted more of her. More. Soon he found himself ravaging her mouth with his, rasping his lips over hers, plunging his tongue into the sweet depths of her.
It wasn’t enough.
* * *
She was kissing him. She was kissing the cowboy. The soldier. The Special Forces whatever he was.
And he was kissing her back. God was he kissing her. Not the pseudo-passionate kind of stage kiss that Anthony preferred. Not the chaste kiss on the cheek she’d expected she and Austin would use if the situation demanded it.
No, this was more like being sacrificed on the altar of some sensual god. He was searing her straight down to her soul, asking more of her than she’d given to any other man.
Ella didn’t know what game they were playing anymore. She’d come here to get away from men—from Anthony—not to throw herself into another one’s arms. She didn’t need to get used again, didn’t need to be hurt.
But somehow she couldn’t pull away. Was it the fact that he was a stranger, someone who didn’t care that she was Ella Scales? Or was it because she’d been joined to him body and soul in a clean, white church whose simplicity and beauty had pierced her to the core? Was it because she’d promised to love and honor him, to hold him close for the rest of her life?
She was certainly holding him close now.
Their kiss went on and on, until he slid his hands to her hips, tugged her even closer, and made it real. Suddenly his desire—and his strength—were all too evident. This was a man who might not have had any female companionship for a long time.
She liked that idea.
The passion that had threatened her earlier in the airport and then the church surged up again, and suddenly she was tingling with want—need—and kissing Austin back with the same intensity he was kissing her.
One of his hands slid up to cradle the back of her head. The other slid down over her ass. Ella couldn’t help it—she moaned. Out loud. She liked his hand cupping her there. She wanted him to do all kinds of naughty things to her.
He lifted his head. Stepped back. “That’s probably enough
practice for now.”
It wasn’t nearly enough from Ella’s perspective. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be desired by a man and to desire him back. She moved forward, stood on her tiptoes and recaptured his mouth with her own. That was better. That was what she needed.
After a few minutes, he pulled away again. “If we don’t back this off, it’s going to get out of hand.”
The roughness of his voice, his all-too-evident need told her he didn’t want to stop any more than she did. “Let it.”
She came after him again, but he caught her, held her in place with his hands around her biceps. “You want to play with fire?”
“I want… I just want… to play.”
“Bad idea.”
Ella’s heart sunk. Was he really going to turn her down? The humiliation—the feelings—she’d worked so hard to contain since the night of the Academy Awards threatened to swamp her suddenly, and she pressed her lips together to hold it back.
Austin’s voice softened. He shifted his hands to her elbows and pulled her close again. “Don’t think this is easy, honey, because it isn’t. I’d like nothing more than to take you right now, but if I do there’ll be hell to pay afterward, because that’s not what either of us signed up for. You’ve gone through so much this past spring you’re reaching out for comfort where you can find it. I’ve gone through hell this past year, and it’s been a long time—” He broke off. “It’s been a heck of a long time since I’ve been with someone who mattered.”
Someone who mattered? Did he think she could matter to him? Hope sparked to life in her heart. She wanted to matter to someone. To a man.
Talking wouldn’t get her anywhere with Austin, though. Time to get down to brass tacks. She reached forward and grabbed his belt. Began to undo it.
“Whoa—what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“We said sex was off the table.” But his eyes had taken on a hungry look and he wasn’t stopping her. He wanted her. He definitely wanted her.
“You said we needed practice—we need to act like husband and wife. This is what husbands and wives do.”
