Needed: One Convenient Husband

by Fiona Brand

  “So you decided to handle him for me.” She launched to her feet, too upset to stay. But in her hurry, she forgot that she had dropped her bag by the recliner, and in the dim light she didn’t see the strap lying on the pavers. One of her heels snagged in the strap and she stumbled.

  Strong fingers closed around her upper arm, steadying her. Her reaction was instantaneous as she jerked free and shoved at Kyle’s chest. She had a split second to register how near she was to the edge of the pool. Kyle said something curt and grabbed at her wrist, but it was too late as the glossy surface of the water came up to meet her.

  The cool water was a shock, but not as much as Kyle, whom she must have pulled off balance, plunging into the water beside her. Holding her breath, she kicked to the surface and tried to ignore the fact that she had left her shoes at the bottom of the pool. Pale pink to match her suit, and superexpensive, she had loved them with passion, but no way was she diving back in to get them with Kyle watching. She would wait until he was gone then fish them out later.

  Swimming to the ladder, she climbed out, trying not to be aware of Kyle boosting himself over the side in one lithe movement. She was still angry with him, but it was difficult to sustain fury when her clothes were wet and clinging, her hair had collapsed into a bedraggled mess and every time she looked at Kyle, his wet shirt plastered to his chest, her mind went utterly blank.

  Kyle dragged off his tie and peeled out of his shirt. Averting her gaze from his impressive torso, Eva walked briskly into the poolroom and retrieved two towels from the nearest shelf. Tossing one at Kyle, she kept her eyes averted as she dried herself off.

  Instead of using the towel, Kyle draped it over a nearby lounger and dropped back down into the pool. Seconds later, he climbed back out with her shoes. Water slid off bronzed skin and dripped from his nose as he handed them to her. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard.”

  Eva ruthlessly suppressed the desire to respond to the glimpse of humor since, technically, she was the one who had done the pushing. Grimly, she concentrated on drying the shoes. She absolutely did not want to start remembering all the moments they had shared all those years ago and start thinking of him as funny or sweet. They’d had their moment, and it hadn’t worked out. “I’m glad I pushed you. You deserved it.”

  The quick flash of a grin almost stopped her heart. “Still the same old Eva.”

  And who, exactly, was that? she wondered a little bitterly. Years ago she had come to the conclusion that he saw her as a messed-up adopted kid. The kind of woman no Messena male in his right mind would date, let alone marry.

  To cover up the fact that she was having difficulty keeping her gaze off his torso and a smattering of scars that looked suspiciously like knife or maybe even bullet wounds, she gripped the back of a lounger to put on first one shoe, then the other. She knew Kyle had been injured twice, the second time life threatening enough that he’d been medevaced from Germany back to Auckland.

  That time, she had been concerned enough that she had rung the hospital to get an update on his condition. When they had refused to do that over the phone, she had gone there herself, brazening her way onto Kyle’s ward, even though visiting hours had finished. When she had finally found him, she had used her family connection to the Messenas and her celebrity status as a model to get into his room.

  She had been shocked to see him pale and still and hooked up to monitors and drips, then a senior nurse had walked in and she’d had to leave. That had been just as well, because as she’d walked out the door Kyle’s eyes had flickered open.

  Dragging pins from her soaked hair and finger combing it out into some semblance of neatness, she couldn’t resist the compulsion to sneak another glance at the worst of the scars and, inadvertently, found herself caught out by Kyle’s gaze.

  “I know that was you, all those years ago at the hospital.”

  She froze. “Maybe.”

  He raked wet hair back from his forehead. “I thought I was dreaming, but the nurse confirmed it.”

  She busied herself picking up her bag in order to drop the pins into it, but she wasn’t paying close enough attention, so some of them scattered over the pavers. Crouching down, she began gathering them up. “It was no big deal. I was in town and heard you’d been—hurt—”

  “As in, wounded.” He handed her a pin that had skittered over by his foot.

  She straightened and found herself uncomfortably close to his naked and still-damp torso. “I didn’t want to say that, just in case you had that condition—”

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Battle fatigue.” His mouth quirked in a distractingly sexy way. “No chance, since I have no memory of being hit.” He hesitated. “Why didn’t you stay?”

  Eva, still captured by the sudden intense need to know what exactly had happened, who had dared to shoot Kyle, took a few seconds to absorb his question. “You were critical—they wouldn’t let me stay.”

  “I was only critical the night I arrived. I didn’t see any family until the next day. So, how did you find out?”

  Despite her clothes, which were steadily dripping, and which were now making her feel clammy and just a little chilled, she found herself blushing. There was no way she was going to tell Kyle that she had practically lived on the internet, tracking down Reuters reports, and that she had made a pest of herself by calling his regimental headquarters. “I had a modeling friend whose boyfriend was in the SAS.” That part was true enough. She shrugged. “I just happened to mention that you’d been hurt and she...found out for me.”

  “But you didn’t visit me again.”

  She straightened, hooking the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I was busy. What is this? An interrogation?” Although something about Kyle had changed. The bad-tempered tension had gone and there was an undercurrent that made her feel decidedly breathless. She tried walking in her wet heels to see if they were safe. At the same time she surreptitiously smoothed her palms down the sodden, clinging line of her jacket and skirt to press out excess moisture. As a result, water tickled down her legs and filled her shoes.

  Kyle stopped in the process of wringing out his shirt, his gaze arrested. “Maybe you should take the jacket off?”

  “No.” Eva had routinely taken her clothes off for lingerie ads, but there was no way she was going to take one stitch of clothing off in front of Kyle. She suddenly noticed the flatness of her jacket pocket. Her glasses were gone, which meant they were probably in the bottom of the pool.

  “They can stay there,” Kyle said flatly. “You don’t need them. You’ve got the eyesight of an eagle.”

  “How would you know what my eyesight’s like?”

  “Remember the archery contests?”

  Dolphin Bay, two summers in a row, when she and Kyle would go head-to-head at the archery range. “You always won those.”

  “I’d been practicing for years. You came second.”

  The sudden warmth in his gaze made her feel flustered all over again. She realized that the distance she had worked so hard to preserve, and which she had been able to maintain quite well if she was angry, had gone. Burned away in the moment she had realized that Kyle wanted her.

  She walked to the edge of the pool and peered in. The glasses, with their dark rims, were easily visible. “I need the glasses for work.”

  “Why? They’re not prescription, just plain glass.” His face cleared. “No, wait, don’t answer, I think I can guess.”

  Over seeing Kyle’s buff, ripped, hot torso, she tossed his towel at him. A split second later the sharp tap of heels on tiles signaled Jacinta’s presence a moment before she rounded the corner into the pool area.

  Her eyes widened when she saw that Eva was soaked. “There you are, the bride’s father wants to give you a check—” She noticed Kyle. “Oops. Sorry, did I interrupt something?”

  “Noth
ing.” Eva seized her chance to end the unsettling encounter and the crazy, suffocating awareness that had crept up on her out of nowhere. “Where is Mr. Hirsch?”

  “In the lobby.” Jacinta glanced at Kyle’s washboard abs. “I told him you’d be right along.”

  But suddenly, Eva wasn’t going anywhere. She took the one step needed to place herself squarely in Jacinta’s line of vision, so that she had to stare at her, rather than at Kyle’s bronzed, dripping skin. In the moment that she moved, it struck her that she was behaving like a jealous girlfriend. Kyle did not belong to her, and yet she was ready to fight tooth and nail to fend Jacinta off. “I’m wet and my hair’s ruined. You need to go and collect the check.”

  Jacinta didn’t move. “Did you fall in the pool?”

  “We both fell,” Eva said bluntly.

  Jacinta made an odd little noise that sounded suspiciously like amusement quickly muffled then spun on her heel and disappeared back inside.

  Kyle broke the tense little silence that developed in the wake of Jacinta’s departure by tossing his towel on a recliner and picking up his soaked shirt. “At least you managed to sell the wedding on. I’m guessing right about now, you’re getting concerned about money.”

  She met Kyle’s gaze head-on. “Without the backup of my trust fund, all money counts.”

  And that was the other reason she found this whole process of having to qualify for her own inheritance so hurtful and undermining. All of the bona fide Atraeus and Messena family members who were born to wealth received vast amounts of money, and their right to do so wasn’t questioned. She understood what Mario was trying to achieve with the marriage clause, but that didn’t change the fact that the whole process made her feel separated from the rest of the family, and different.

  Stung anew by what she saw as further evidence that, despite adoption, she had never quite fitted into the Atraeus family, Eva turned on her heel, intending to make a beeline for her car, where she had a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers stashed for the drive back to Auckland.

  Kyle caught her arm, halting her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned the money.”

  The tingling warmth of Kyle’s palm, even through the barrier of damp silk, sent a small, sharp shock through her. She jerked free. “I suppose you think I’m a money-grubbing gold digger who doesn’t deserve—”

  “I don’t think that.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You deserve your inheritance.”

  Her chin jerked up. “Then why have you been doing your level best to deprive me of it?”

  “Money isn’t the issue,” he muttered. “This is.” Bending his head, Kyle kissed her.

  Eva inhaled sharply at the warmth of his mouth, stunned by the brief caress and the molten heat that exploded from that one point of contact. When she didn’t move, Kyle’s palm curled around her nape. The next minute she was pressed hard against the muscled heat of his body as his mouth settled more heavily on hers.

  The passion was searing and instant and this time, Eva wasn’t content to just be kissed. Palms flattened against the hard muscle of Kyle’s chest, and all too aware that she was making a disastrous mistake, she lifted up on her toes and angled her head to increase the contact. His taste exploded in her mouth and the furnace heat of his body warmed her, so that she wanted to press closer still, to wallow in his heat and strength.

  And suddenly, it registered just how alone and isolated she had been. Since her teenage fixation on Kyle, she had simply not allowed anyone else close. She had sidestepped relationships and sex. She hadn’t thought she needed either, until now.

  The strap of her bag slipped off her shoulder. She registered the thump as it dropped onto the ground, and the sound of glass breaking and dimly remembered the champagne flute. Her arms closed around Kyle’s neck as the kiss deepened, and suddenly the cling of her wet clothes seemed sodden and restrictive, dragging against skin that was unbearably sensitive. His hand cupped her breast through the layers of wet fabric. Eva inhaled at the sharp beading of her nipple, but it was too late as heat and sensation coiled unbearably tight and splintered.

  Kyle muttered something short beneath his breath. Eva pulled free of his grasp, her legs as limp as noodles, embarrassed warmth burning through her. Not only had she practically thrown herself at Kyle like some love-starved teenager, she had actually climaxed just because he had kissed her.

  Dragging damp tendrils back from her face, she snatched up her bag and noticed that the champagne flute had broken at the stem and was in two pieces. Jaw set, she found the cake napkin and wrapped the base of the flute.

  Kyle crouched down beside her and handed her the rest of the flute but, with her whole body still oversensitive and tingling, Kyle helping, Kyle intruding any further into her life was the last thing she wanted.

  “Eva—”

  She straightened, desperate to avoid him, but he rose lithely and blocked her path.

  Too late to wish that she’d searched for her compact and checked her makeup. Her mascara was probably running. She must look a total mess—

  “You wanted to know why I vetoed the grooms you chose. Two reasons. None of them were good enough. And I couldn’t let you marry anyone else because I want you.”

  Five

  Eva stared at Kyle.

  I want you.

  A small, sensual shiver zapped down her spine. Not good! She should be annoyed at the way Kyle had gotten rid of all the men she had chosen, not turned on and reveling in the fact that he had done so because he thought none of them had been good enough. “Let me get this right. You proposed because you want sex?”

  Suddenly irritated beyond belief, she rummaged in her handbag, found her cell and stabbed a random icon. “Wait just one second. I’m sure I have an app you need called Sex Slaves Are Us.”

  Impatience registered in his gaze. “I proposed because you need a husband.”

  Somehow that was the wrong answer. “So sex would just be an optional extra?”

  There was a small, vibrating silence. “Whether or not sex would be part of the deal is entirely up to you.”

  The anger that rolled through Eva was knee-jerk and confusing. She had been angry that Kyle wanted sex from her. Now she was even angrier because, evidently, he could take it or leave it. In her book, that brought them back to square one. She just wasn’t that important to Kyle. And didn’t that just feel like a replay of the past?

  She jammed her cell back in her bag. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how much Kyle’s defection all those years ago still hurt. He had been a friend when she had needed one. She hadn’t just wanted him at age seventeen; she had liked and trusted him. He had walked away without a backward glance then fallen in love with and married someone else.

  She should have let this go a long time ago. It was neither healthy, nor balanced. But then, balance had never been her strong point. She had always been passionate and a little extreme. Of course, letting go of the hurt of Kyle’s rejection was difficult, because in her heart of hearts she had felt sure that they had been on the verge of something special.

  On the heels of that thought, suspicion flared. “Did Mario suggest you should marry me before he died?”

  Kyle’s gaze turned wary. “He did.”

  Now she really was embarrassed. Mario had been convinced that, despite her disorder, as an heiress she could have the same kind of happy married life he’d had with his wife, if she would only follow the old recipe and marry someone wealthy, trusted and close to home. He had relentlessly tried to marry her off in that way to Kyle’s older brothers and, to her everlasting relief, he hadn’t succeeded in raising even a flicker of interest. “I know for a fact that he asked Gabriel and Nick and they both turned him down.”

  Kyle shrugged. “That was a given, since they were both in love with other women.”

  Eva sw
iped at a renegade trickle of water sliding down her neck, suddenly incensed. “And who would buy into that crazy kind of medieval stuff, anyway?”

  Kyle dragged his gaze from the creamy line of Eva’s neck and the tantalizing hint of cleavage in the vee of her suit jacket.

  He would.

  Although, obviously, that did not reflect well on him. “If you’re so set on a marriage of convenience, then I don’t get why you’re so against taking the second option in the will.”

  “And marry you?” Eva’s chin came up. “Because, while Messena and Atraeus men may look and sound like modern twenty-first century guys, they aren’t. Underneath that veneer every one of you is just as medieval as Mario was. And I don’t want children. Ever.”

  The flat certainty of Eva’s statement hit Kyle in the solar plexus.

  Children. He had a sudden mental image of his small son, Evan, who had been just three months old when he had died.

  His stomach tightened on the kind of grief no parent should ever feel as memory flickered. Evan, soft and warm on his shoulder, well fed and smelling of soap and milk as he had relaxed into sleep. The way he had used to crow with delight every time Kyle had picked him up...

  When he spoke, he couldn’t keep the grim chill out of his voice. “Children won’t be an issue, because I don’t want them, either. But in any case, we’re only looking at an arrangement that will last two years.”

  He logged the flare of shock in her gaze. He had been too abrasive. But when it came to the issue of marriage and kids, he couldn’t be any other way.

  His own family didn’t understand him. But then, none of them had seen his wife and child disappear in an explosion that had killed five others and destroyed the barracks gatehouse. None of them understood that moment of sickening displacement, the knowledge that Nicola and Evan would be alive now if it wasn’t for his insistence that they join him in Germany for Christmas.

  The shock of their deaths and the weight of grief and guilt still had the power to stop him in his tracks. It was the reason he avoided friends who had kids and family occasions that, increasingly, overflowed with babies and small children. It was the reason he steered clear of anything approaching a conventional relationship, because he knew he couldn’t be that person again. Just the thought of taking on the responsibility of a wife and child made him break out in a cold sweat. His oldest brother, Gabriel, who had arrived in Germany just hours after the explosion, was the only one who had an inkling about how he felt. He unlocked his jaw and tried to soften his tone. “If you agree to marriage, you set the terms.”