Mitchell didn’t think what Damon had said was the same thing he was trying to say.
And he didn’t appreciate having Damon dragged into a private conversation between him and his wife.
All he said, however, was, “Hmm.”
***
A few weeks later, Mitchell was actually looking forward to getting home after work.
He’d never been someone like that—someone who longed for the end of the day so he could leave work—but the feeling had gradually been developing over the past weeks.
He and Deanna had started having dinner together most nights. Sometimes she would have been fixing it as he got home, and sometimes they’d fix it together. And then they’d hang out and watch movies or work out, or she’d tease him into helping with her beads.
He was still almost crippled by lust sometimes and usually went to bed physically frustrated—unless he gave in and took a shower to take care of it—but his evenings were becoming very enjoyable nonetheless.
It was an entirely new feeling—to look forward to something so… quiet.
But he was eager to get home as he left the Claremont just before six on a Thursday evening. He wondered if Deanna had any plans for dinner tonight. He wondered what she was doing. What kind of mood she was in.
He wondered if there was a way he could convince her that sex wasn’t as off the table between them as she seemed to think.
He was generally in a good mood as he entered the house. He paused, glancing around, looking for a sign as to where Deanna might be. She was usually in the library or outside on the patio at this time of day or in the kitchen working on dinner, but she wasn’t any of those places.
He wandered around until her suite was the only remaining place in the house for her to be. He tapped on the door since it was closed.
“Yeah,” she called out, her voice sounding rather distracted.
He walked in and found her on the floor, leaning against the big chair instead of sitting on it. In her lap was the laptop he’d bought her last week when her old one had died.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, immediately concerned by her expression. She was staring at the screen.
She glanced up at him and then back at the screen, her features twisting. “What? Oh, it’s nothing.”
He walked over and lowered himself to sit beside her. “Well, it’s obviously something. You’re upset.”
“It’s just…” She cleared her throat. “A friend sent me this link to a blog. It’s some sort of local news blog for Savannah, although it looks like mostly gossip to me. Anyway, there’s a story about us. I mean, about you. And me.”
His forehead wrinkled, and he took the laptop from her hands so he could read the screen. The story was indeed about them—about their marriage—including a lot of speculation about how he seemed to have “bought” her as a bride.
“Shit,” he muttered. “What the hell?”
“I guess it’s because we started working on the house, and they must know the Beauforts wouldn’t have money to fund it unless you were giving us the money. I don’t understand why anyone cares about our marriage though.”
“They’ll care about anything that’s not their business.” He was angry—surprisingly angry since it was just silly gossip on a not-very-popular blog—but he didn’t like the way the article was talking about Deanna as bought and paid for, implying she was some sort of prostitute.
He didn’t like it at all.
He grew even angrier when he looked at her again and saw the tension of emotion on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lifting a hand to cup her face without thinking. “Are you really upset?”
“A little. The insinuations are insulting.” She looked slightly surprised. “Mostly I thought you’d be upset.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t give a damn. People have always said anything they want about me. It doesn’t bother me at all. I don’t care about that kind of thing, remember?” He gave a half smile that he hoped would make her smile too.
It did. Her face relaxed for a moment as she smiled back. But then she said, “But what about Gina? The Darlington Café deal hasn’t gone through yet, has it?”
He bit back a curse, suddenly remembering that not unimportant detail. “No. Not until next month. It probably won’t be an issue though. I doubt she reads that blog, and we can always shrug it off as malicious gossip.”
She was frowning again as she scanned over the story. “Do you think we should act more like a normal couple? No one knows we don’t share a bedroom, but out in public, I mean.”
“I think we act mostly like a normal couple when we go out. Most couples aren’t all over each other in public, so it’s not like we’re totally unusual.”
“I know. But we just go to public functions. Most couples go out to eat or on outings, just the two of them. The article says we’re never seen on dates.”
He made an impatient noise in his throat and reached over to close out the browser. “Just forget about that stupid story. It’s not important enough for us to worry about.”
“Okay.” She stared at her laptop screen even though the story was no longer visible.
He sighed. “You’re still upset.”
“I’m not. I just want to make sure we do everything we need to do—I mean, for the marriage to be convincing. We’re getting our whole house rebuilt, so I want to make sure you’re… you’re…”
“I’m what?” For some reason, his breath caught in his throat and his pulse sped up.
“You’re getting everything you need from this marriage, that I’m holding up my side of the bargain.”
She was serious. She genuinely had no idea how much he was enjoying being married to her, spending time with her, even though it wasn’t involving sex.
She had absolutely no idea.
He felt a little awkward about telling her since the feeling was so new and uncomfortable, and he was pretty sure he’d end up sounding stupid and trite.
“It’s fine,” he ended up saying gruffly. “Everything is fine.”
Her eyes flew up to his face. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I have no complaints about the marriage.” He cleared his throat and managed a leering expression. “Although I still wouldn’t say no to sex.”
She giggled, looking remarkably pretty and vulnerable somehow. “Sorry. I’m sure it can’t be comfortable to have to refrain for so long.”
“Are you saying it’s comfortable for you?” He didn’t at all like the idea that she wasn’t at least a little bit interested in sex with him.
“I’ve gone without sex for six months plenty of times in my life.”
“Really?”
She shook her head. “I think you’re dramatically overestimating my social life. I’ve had two serious boyfriends in my life—none of the relationships lasting more than a year. And I only have sex with guys I’m serious about, so…”
He thought about that, thinking through what it told him about her. “You had sex with me,” he said at last.
She blushed visibly and glanced away. “That was an accident.”
He burst into laughter and reached over to wrap an arm around her, pulling her into a quick half hug. “Anytime you’d like another slipup like that, just let me know. I promise I’ll be available for an accident of my own.”
She was laughing too when she pulled away.
Hit with a spontaneous idea, he suggested, “Do you want to go out tonight? Just the two of us?”
She straightened up, looking surprised again. “Sure. That’s a good idea. That would help dispel the idea that we’re not a normal couple.”
For some reason, Mitchell felt a drop in his chest at her words. He hadn’t suggested it to stop the rumors.
He’d suggested it because he thought she would enjoy it.
***
After the shock of seeing the story on their marriage, Deanna had a really good evening.
A really good evening.<
br />
So good that it made her very nervous.
She and Mitchell both showered and changed before they went out, so she felt fresh and pretty in a new blue sundress. They went to a nice low-key restaurant in the historic downtown area, and then they walked through some of the neighborhoods, looking at houses and gardens, stopping at little shops, and later getting ice cream.
Mitchell held her hand as they walked—she assumed so they could convey the appropriate romantic vibe should anyone recognize them—but it felt really nice, and she wasn’t at all tempted to pull away from him.
As the evening progressed and they were strolling in companionable silence, Deanna started to get nervous.
She shouldn’t be enjoying it so much. She shouldn’t be thinking about this as natural. She shouldn’t be wanting it to continue, deepen.
They were already more than two months into their six-month marriage, and the end date was looming large.
Mitchell seemed to be having a good time with her, but that was his nature. He enjoyed himself. He took the easiest route. He rode out whatever wave was in front of him at the moment, and then he moved on as soon as it passed.
He’d admitted it openly over and over again.
She couldn’t invest in this relationship emotionally because she knew he would never do so himself.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get hurt.
Really hurt before this thing was over.
The reflections put a damper on her mood as they approached an ornate fountain. Very gently, she pulled her hand away from his since it was feeling far too nice held in his warm, strong grip.
She fussed with her hair for a minute as an excuse to pull her hand away, and then she just didn’t offer it back.
She stood for a moment, staring at the water gush out of a dolphin’s mouth in the fountain, wishing faintly that she could let go to that extent, just let everything pour out, regardless of consequences.
She couldn’t though. She was too smart. She was too careful. She’d lived her life desperately trying to hold together the edges of her world since it always felt on the verge of falling apart, and she couldn’t just release it because she wanted for once to enjoy the freedom.
She’d regret it tomorrow. And the next day. And so many days to come.
Mitchell had paused with her, also looking at the fountain, and he reached over almost unconsciously to take her hand again.
She pulled it away before he could reach it.
She wasn’t looking at him, but she felt him frown and reach for her again.
She ended up—very stupidly—hiding her hand behind her back.
“What the hell?” he muttered, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.
“Sorry,” she said, feeling silly and so young. “My hand was getting hot.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He was searching her face intently. “What’s the matter? You were having a good time, and now you’re upset about something.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
His voice was so intimate, almost entitled, that it frightened her and angered her at the same time. “I can lie to you if I want.”
“But why would you?”
“Because maybe there are certain things you don’t need to know.”
“Maybe I want to know them.”
“Maybe it doesn’t always matter what you want.”
It was a ridiculous argument, and they both seemed to recognize it at the same time. They both smiled and relaxed, and Mitchell pulled her into a soft hug she just didn’t have the strength to pull away from.
“What were you worrying about?” he asked after a minute, his mouth against her ear.
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”
He drew back enough to look down into her face. “I wish you wouldn’t worry all the time.”
“I have to worry.”
“Why?”
She had no idea why she was admitting the truth so openly, but she did. “If I don’t, it feels like everything will fall apart.”
“What will?”
“Everything. My whole life.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“But what if it does?”
“You can’t control that anyway, so why drag yourself down by worrying about things you can’t control?”
“But some things I can control. And it’s important to me to make good decisions in the things I can control.”
“Maybe it should be important to you to let yourself enjoy life more each day even if things aren’t perfect the following day.”
“I enjoy life plenty.”
“Do you?” He was still gazing down at her, and it felt like he was seeing her for real, completely—like she was the only thing in the world he was seeing. “I’m not sure you do. You never just let yourself go.”
“That’s because letting yourself go means you make bad decisions.”
“Not all the time—unless every one of your instincts is bad.”
“They are. All my instincts are bad.”
He chuckled. “No, they’re not.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips. “I promise you—your instincts aren’t all bad.”
Her heart and mind and body all felt like they were soaring, and she couldn’t help but reach up to wind her arms around his neck. “Some of them are bad,” she murmured, her voice surprisingly husky. “Some of them are very, very bad.”
He chuckled as he kissed her again, the amusement soft and warm and delicious as it vibrated through her body. “But see, those instincts are actually the best ones.”
Her whole body softened against him, and she opened her lips to his tongue, and as the kiss deepened, her existence seemed entirely overwhelmed with pure pleasure.
His hands had slid down to her hips, and he was pressing her against his groin, and she loved the shameless entitlement of it, as if he was allowed to touch her, move her, exactly as he wanted.
But it was all feeling so good and free and intensely dangerous that a jolt of panic rushed through her and she clumsily pulled away.
He groaned as he reluctantly released her.
“We agreed to no kissing,” she gasped, hugging her arms to her chest, desperately wanting to grab and kiss him again.
He rubbed his face with his hands, clearly disappointed and frustrated. “I never agreed to no kissing.”
“But we agreed to no sex.”
“I told you that you could change your mind at any point.”
“I don’t want to change my mind.”
He was shaking his head. “Yes, you do.”
“Well, not all of me wants to change my mind.”
“You do want to change your mind. You’re just worried about tomorrow. You don’t understand that it’s right now that really matters.”
“Tomorrow matters to me too,” she said, meaning every word. “I’m really sorry.”
He breathed heavily for a moment until he finally released the tension with a resigned look. “Okay. It’s up to you.”
It was very nice of him to respect her wishes. In fact, she’d resent the hell out of him if he pressed on even after she’d said no. But part of her wished he would sweep her off her feet so she wouldn’t have to think and worry and predict disaster. So she could just enjoy the moment, the way he could.
Even though, in her heart of hearts, she knew disaster would be coming. She would never be able to be with him for just the moment. She wasn’t built that way. If she let herself go and gave herself to him again, she’d be giving all of herself to him, she’d be letting herself fall.
And she’d be crushed at the end of the fall when he wasn’t there to catch her.
He wouldn’t be. He’d never been anything but honest about that. When six months was up, he would move on to the next thing that was easy and enjoyable.
And no matter how hard it was to resist him right now, it would be harder to watch him walk away, after she’d fallen
in love with him.
Eight
A few weeks later was the wedding of Mandy Milton and Benjamin Damon, and Mitchell and Deanna were sitting together in a stiff wooden pew of a historic church in Savannah.
It was still twenty-five minutes before the wedding would begin, but the church was already packed. Deanna was glad she’d hurried Mitchell up and made sure they arrived early.
Mitchell looked handsome and respectable in a gray suit, although his hair was a little too long and wasn’t lying quite right. He looked familiar, known, like she could close her eyes and still see exactly what his expression would be at any given moment.
Like a really good friend. Or family.
He also looked so sexy she had trouble not touching him, but she was used to that.
“Where did all these people come from?” Mitchell murmured in her ear. “Don’t Ben and Mandy live in California?”
“Yeah. But he grew up here, and I guess Mandy has tons of friends. She seemed really friendly and social the few times I’ve met her.”
Deanna grinned when she saw Harrison, stunningly handsome and immanently respectable in his tux, walk up the aisle after guiding someone to her seat. His face didn’t break a smile when his eyes landed on her, but he gave her a discreet wink.
She hid a laugh and caught a glimpse of Mitchell frowning.
“Are you still annoyed with Harrison for helping me out with the contract?”
“I’m not annoyed with him for helping you out,” he muttered. “I’d be annoyed with any man who winked at my wife that way.”
She tried to repress the laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s evidently like the most devoted husband in the history of the world. That’s his wife over there.” She nodded toward a blond woman near the front of the church—as freshly pretty and vibrant as a wildflower—who was holding an infant in a lovely white dress.
“I was talking to Mandy on Thursday at the shower, and she was telling me about how Harrison and Marietta got together. It’s so romantic. Harrison climbed a mountain for her. And then they had to try so hard to have a baby.” Deanna sighed. “He’s a great husband.”
Marry Me: a Wedding Romance Duet Page 10
