Husband--Or Enemy?

by Caroline Cross

  “Well.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess I’ll get started unloading the car—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it in a little while.”

  “Gosh, I don’t know, Riley.” That austere note was back in her voice. “Given the way you insisted on buying out half the town, it’ll probably take both of us to haul it all in.”

  “Now, Angel.” He pretended to look hurt. “Don’t start that again. You had to have shoes and stuff to go with the clothes. And you can’t very well go to the shower without a gift.”

  She sighed, but her eyes gave her away, softening as she looked at him. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “You bet I am.”

  Buoyed by that small victory, he looked around and saw that the last rays of the day’s sunlight were slanting through the windows. Out of nowhere, he found himself reaching for her hand and tugging her toward the sliding glass door. “Come here. There’s something I want you to show you.”

  She resisted for all of a second, then gave in, following as he led the way outside toward the far end of the terrace above the pool, where they had a one-hundred-and-eighty degree view of the desert stretched out before them. “Look.”

  He directed her gaze to the west, where the sun was sinking toward the horizon. The sky above it was awash in brilliant layers of tangerine and magenta, coral and crimson. And then while they watched, the sun slipped completely away, and for one magic moment, as the sky dimmed to lavender and the first early stars appeared overhead, it was perfectly quiet, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

  In the ensuing silence, Riley suddenly felt embarrassed. After all, how stupid was this? Only some mushy-hearted romantic would drag a woman out to watch a sunset—and he was definitely not that. Was he? God help him, but maybe his rampaging hormones were turning his brain to mush—

  As if emerging from a spell, Angelica unexpectedly laid her hand on his arm. “Wow. That was really something.”

  It was the first time since their marriage that she’d voluntarily touched him. Some of the tension drained out of his body. “Yeah.”

  “Do you know how lucky you are?” she said suddenly. “It’s so beautiful and private here. Sometimes I like to just sit in the house and listen to the quiet. It’s such a luxury.”

  There was a wistfulness in her voice that made his throat tighten. Determined to lighten the mood, he said, “Is that your way of telling me you’d like me to quit singing in the shower?”

  To his relief, she laughed. The sound bubbled through his veins like champagne. “No. But I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from any more surprises. I think I’ve reached my limit.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “What?”

  “I just always assumed you were the kind of guy who liked to watch the sun come up,” she teased. “Not go down.”

  “Ah.” He turned to look at her. Her face alight, she looked beautiful in the fading twilight. Knowing he was taking a chance, but suddenly feeling reckless, he didn’t try to hide his hunger for her. “The truth is, I’m both.”

  Her expression sobered. “Riley…” It was half protest, half entreaty. “Don’t.”

  Bracing his hands on the rail behind her, he dipped his head. “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  “No. Not really.” Nor did he care, not at this moment. After all, he’d been a good boy most of the day. And she was too close, too tempting, and he wanted her too much.

  He leaned down and found her mouth with his own.

  She stiffened for half a second. Then, to his fierce satisfaction, she made a soft little sound of pleasure and her hands came up around his neck. He pulled her closer.

  Although an accomplished kisser, Riley had never particularly cared about the act one way or another. It had been a means to an end, an opening move, a prelude to pleasure.

  But this…with Angelica…it was different. To his shock, he found himself craving the intimacy of being face-to-face and mouth-to-mouth with her. Her mouth was warm and far sweeter than he remembered, while the press of lips, the tangle of tongues, the melding of breath was unbearably sensual.

  He slanted his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth. He applied gentle pressure, then soothed the tiny hurt with his tongue, lost in the taste and feel of her. “Damn,” he murmured against her mouth, “but you’re sweet…”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist. Her hair slid over his forearm in a satiny ripple that made him groan. In a flash of memory, he recalled the night they’d spent together and how he’d fisted his hands in her hair as she’d twisted beneath him…

  The delicious softness of warm skin beneath his fingertips jolted him back to the here and now, and he realized her blouse had ridden up. He stroked his palm along the dip in her spine and pulled her closer, feeling as if he could go on kissing her forever.

  He might have, too, if she hadn’t suddenly drawn back and averted her head. “Riley, stop.” Her breasts pressed sweetly against him as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Shh. It’s okay,” he murmured, taking advantage of her posture to press an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse pounding in her throat.

  “No, it’s not,” she said, her voice a little stronger.

  It took him a moment to realize she was making a half-hearted effort to push him away. He lifted his head, puzzled, and took a half step back. “What’s the matter?”

  “We have to stop.”

  Deprived of her mouth, he abruptly became aware of the insistent throbbing of his body. “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes, we do.” She looked up at him. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, her eyelids heavy and the hands she raised to push her hair back shook. Yet there was a spark of determination lighting her eyes. “I’m sorry. I let things get out of hand. I shouldn’t have.”

  For the second time in a handful of days, he told himself she had to be kidding. “Angel—”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I just…can’t.” To his disbelief, she stepped away from him and dashed for the house.

  He swiveled around to draw her back but she was already out of reach. “Angelica, come back!”

  All he got for an answer was a swift shake of her head before she disappeared inside.

  Well, hell. With a savage oath, he fought the urge to go after her. After all, he had his pride. And he wasn’t sure what he’d say if he did catch up with her. Besides, while it was true he wanted her, she had to be willing.

  Around him the landscaping lights kicked on as the night settled into velvety darkness. Face grim, he made a sudden decision. Kicking off his shoes, he stripped out of his clothes and stalked across the terrace, down the stairs and dove into the swimming pool.

  The water felt icy cold against his overheated skin. He surfaced, gasping at the shock of it. And yet, as he tossed his head to get the wet hair out of his eyes, his mind felt clear again.

  He thought once more about the way she’d taken off. There’d been a sort of desperation to her actions. As if she didn’t trust herself to stay. As if she didn’t trust herself not to want him.

  That was good. So, he realized on further reflection, was the way she’d kissed him, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. Sure, she’d managed to rein herself in there at the end, but it had taken a monumental effort. She must want him a whole lot more than she was letting on.

  So all in all, it had actually gone pretty well. Sure, he’d suffered a minor setback. But that didn’t mean he was giving up. Not by a long shot.

  He stubbornly refused to acknowledge the thought that, somewhere along the line, what had begun as mere physical desire was beginning to feel a whole lot like overwhelming need.

  The soft clink of ice cubes in crystal punch cups mixed with the low murmur of feminine voices in Cynthia and Shane’s elegant living room.

  Luncheon had been served; a trio of games played; the shower gifts opened. Now, Angelica listened as the women around her talk
ed about subjects ranging from their jobs to their opinions regarding a recent movie to the best place to buy local produce.

  Their clothes might be more expensive and their jokes more subdued, but they weren’t really that different from the women she knew at work or those from her old neighborhood, she mused.

  The discovery was a revelation, and with sudden insight she realized that in large part she had Riley to thank for it. He’d not only pushed her to come, but he’d made sure that outwardly, at least, she’d fit in. Armed with that exterior measure of confidence, she’d been able to relax enough to see that these women, either Fortunes by birth or marriage, or friends of the family, were simply people like any others.

  She absentmindedly smoothed a finger over the silky material of her lavender pantsuit, her thoughts zeroing in on her husband.

  She supposed she should be used to it by now, but in the near week since they’d shared that knee-weakening kiss out on the terrace, he’d surprised her. Because of the way things had ended that night, she’d expected him to be cool with her afterward, if not openly angry; instead, he’d been just as charming as ever.

  He’d continued to cook dinner, taken Cosmo for walks so she could study, even insisted on driving her back and forth to class. And though she suspected he wasn’t quite as sanguine about her rejection as he wanted her to believe—several times she’d caught him watching her with a brooding look on his face—he hadn’t forced the issue.

  Which raised disturbing questions about his character. Whether it was his intention or not, she was beginning to find it impossible to think of him as a shallow playboy.

  Determined not to dwell on it, she forced herself to look around. Across the room, Riley’s mother sat on the loveseat near the door, talking to Kate Fortune, the family matriarch. Angelica studied the two for a moment, and felt an unexpected tug of affection. Joan had been wonderful to her today. Acting as if last Saturday’s strained conversation had never taken place, she’d taken Angelica around and personally introduced her to everyone, insuring her acceptance by her obvious approval.

  As for Kate, the elegant old lady had singled her out at the start of the shower and the two had visited on and off all afternoon.

  As if feeling her gaze now, Kate looked directly at her and with an imperious crook of her hand, waved her over. “Angelica, my dear, would you be good enough to get me another glass of punch?” She held out her empty glass.

  That’ll teach you to get too comfortable. Once a waitress, always a waitress, she thought with an inner smile. “I’d be glad to. What about you?” she asked Joan. “Can I get you something?”

  “No, thank you. I think I’ve had more than enough to eat today,” Riley’s mother said with a soft chuckle. “You might see if you can find out where Cynthia’s disappeared to, however. I should be going but I’d like to say goodbye.”

  “Sure.” Angelica threaded her way into where the buffet was set up in the dining room. Moving to the punch bowl, she glanced around but their hostess was nowhere in sight. She looked questioningly at Julie Parker Fortune, Riley’s cousin Tyler’s wife, who was standing on the opposite side of the table, pouring herself a glass of sparkling water. “Have you seen Cynthia?”

  “I think she’s on the phone,” the sweet-faced former librarian, a newlywed herself, answered.

  “Thanks.”

  Returning to the living room, she saw that Joan was now standing by the fireplace, visiting with her sister-in-law. She walked over to report what she’d discovered, then made her way to the loveseat where Kate was waiting. She handed the older woman the cup and sat down beside her.

  “Thank you, my dear.” Kate took a sip of her punch, then set the cup down on the end table beside her. “I trust you’ve enjoyed your first Fortune family function?”

  “Actually, I have.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  Angelica smiled a little sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t expect everyone to be so nice.”

  Kate nodded, her expression suddenly thoughtful. “I’ve lived a fairly long life, and I’ve found that with a few memorable exceptions, people are much the same everywhere, regardless of their social status.”

  The sentiment was so close to what Angelica had been thinking earlier that she gave a start. She looked curiously at the other woman. “Am I that transparent?” she asked.

  Kate patted her hand. “Only to someone who’s really paying attention.”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.

  One of Isabelle’s friends was standing nearest to the front entry. She glanced around. Not seeing Cynthia, she gave a little shrug, walked over and opened the door, stepping back a few seconds later to admit an athletically built man with sandy hair and shrewd hazel eyes.

  Angelica felt a tug of recognition, then realized that it was Link Templeton, the investigator who was heading up the inquiry into Mike’s death. Her interest piqued, she watched as he took a quick look around, then saw him freeze as his gaze reached Isabelle, who was standing at the far end of the room.

  At that exact moment, as if sensing his presence, the bride-to-be glanced over, and the look they exchanged was electric, a fact that Angelica apparently wasn’t alone in noticing; as the moment spun out, the conversation in the room slowly died off.

  For endless seconds, the room remained hushed, and then Isabelle finally seemed to remember where—and who—she was. Lifting her chin, she looked away from Link and coolly addressed the group of women with whom she’d been conversing. “Pardon me a moment, won’t you?” she said pleasantly. “I need to take care of this.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and started toward the visitor.

  As if released from a spell by her calm, deliberate manner, the hum of conversation once again began to rise, thankfully reaching normal levels by the time she reached the entry. Yet through some fluke of acoustics, Angelica could still clearly hear the conversation between Link and Isabelle.

  “Hello Link.” Despite her outward composure, Riley’s sister’s voice sounded slightly breathless.

  “Isabelle.” The investigator seemed to drink in the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Some investigator you are,” she said lightly, her mouth curving in a way that made her look remarkably like Riley. “Didn’t you notice all the cars outside? Cynthia’s throwing me a wedding shower.”

  “Ah. How nice for you.” Although Templeton’s voice was perfectly pleasant, there was something about the way he said it that suggested he wasn’t completely sincere.

  Isabelle clearly heard it, too. She lifted her chin slightly. “Yes, isn’t it?”

  Again they stared at each other, and the air around them almost seemed to glitter with shooting sparks. “I should be going,” Link said abruptly. “I was hoping to talk to Cynthia—” for the first time he glanced back into the room, belatedly registered Kate’s and Angelica’s presence and gave a nod of recognition “—but I can see this isn’t a good time.” He brought his gaze back to the slim young woman in the doorway. “Tell her I stopped by and that I’ll call her later, will you?”

  “Certainly.”

  “It’s good to see you, Isabelle.”

  “Yes. You, too.”

  He turned on his heel and walked away. Isabelle watched him for a moment, then shut the door. When she turned, a spot of color stood high in both of her cheeks.

  “Goodness,” Kate murmured. “Is it my imagination, or is there a bit of chemistry between those two?”

  “Maybe a little,” Angelica said, feeling oddly protective of the younger woman. Telling herself it was because Isabelle was now her sister-in-law—and not because of her own recent, unsettling encounters with a certain good-looking man—she said firmly, “I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”

  Kate glanced sharply at her. “Really? Why do you think that?”

  She shrugged dismissively. “It’s just that chemistry isn’t everything. And Isabelle is marrying someone else.”

 
Kate was silent, then gave a small sigh. “You know, my dear, by nature I’m a pragmatist. That’s why it’s taken me most of my life to learn that sometimes it’s important to ignore your head and listen to what your heart is saying, instead. Unfortunately, it appears there’s an excellent chance my darling Isabelle has yet to figure that out. Don’t you make the same mistake.”

  Angelica frowned, not quite sure how she’d become the object of Kate’s concern. “Pardon me?”

  Kate reached for her punch and took a sip before she spoke. “I’m very fond of your husband. The boy’s a bit of a rogue, and not easy to know, but worth the effort, I think. I understand from Joan that the two of you didn’t marry for conventional reasons, but I hope you’ll give your marriage a chance. Pride doesn’t keep you warm at night. Believe me, child, I know.”

  The words struck too close to home. Angelica felt a pinch of dismay, even as she told herself not to be silly. There was no way Kate could know that she wasn’t sleeping with Riley; the other woman had to be speaking metaphorically. And her words really didn’t apply to Angelica’s situation, anyway. Her reason for keeping Riley at a distance didn’t have a thing to do with pride. It was a matter of self-preservation, pure and simple.

  Wasn’t it?

  “And now that I’ve given you something to think about,” Kate announced, climbing to her feet, “I suppose I should mingle.” Her eyes twinkled. “It’s expected of me, you know.”

  “Well then, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

  They smiled at each other and Kate reached over to give her hand a squeeze. “You’ll do, Angelica. Give that handsome husband a kiss for me, won’t you?” She stood and walked away.

  Bemused, Angelica stayed where she was, Kate’s parting words lodged in her mind. She had a sudden vision of Saturday night, when she’d stood locked in Riley arms, her hands twined in his silky hair, her mouth glued to his…

  Warmth spread through her and she abruptly asked herself what she was doing. It was bad enough that Riley seemed intent on driving her crazy; no way was she going to do it to herself.