Husband–Or Enemy? (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 4)

by Caroline Cross

  There was a pause the length of a heartbeat, and then she felt his hand close around her upper arm and he was tugging her toward him. “Dammit, Angel. Don’t cry. Please.”

  It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to let him gather her close, to shut her eyes and lean against him. Enveloped by an overwhelming sense of safety, for a moment out of time she didn’t think about anything except the comfort of his presence, the solid strength of his arms, the warm press of his cheek against her hair.

  But then, at some point, awareness prickled to life.

  She grew more and more conscious of the heat of his lean body beneath his stylish Armani suit, as well as his strong, steady heartbeat. She felt his breath tickling her cheek, his thighs pressing against hers, the weight of his hands resting against the base of her spine.

  She raised her head, looked into his eyes and suddenly felt dizzy with wanting him. She let out a strangled breath. “Oh. My. Riley.”

  He stared back and she knew, even before he spoke, that he wanted her, too. “Yeah. I know.”

  The unexpected note of uncertainty in his voice gave her courage. “Make love to me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Still, he hesitated, and with a boldness totally unlike herself, she took his hand and pressed it to her throat. “Touch me,” she whispered.

  His eyes never leaving hers, he stroked his thumb over the hollow at her collarbone. Then slowly, with fingers bedeviled by the faintest tremor, he unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it off. Next her skirt fluttered to the floor, leaving her standing before him in her bra and panties, her high heels and the thigh-high nylons that were her answer to the warm Arizona weather.

  She lifted her chin, proud of her body for the first time ever as his gaze poured over her like liquid silver. The only other time she’d been with a man, it had been a major disappointment.

  There was nothing disappointing about Riley.

  “You sure about this?” he asked intently.

  “Yes.” She watched breathlessly as he shed his clothes with all the grace of a Hollywood matinee idol, revealing a body that was strong and lean, with clearly delineated biceps and triceps and a washboard stomach. Between his long, powerful thighs, his sex rose straight and thick, unabashedly masculine.

  She’d never felt like this in her life. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to rub her cheek over the bronzed skin of his abdomen, run her fingertips over the fine cross-hatching of hair on his legs and arms, press her aching breasts against his smooth, muscular chest, measure the velvety hardness of him between her palms.

  She wanted him to touch her, too. She wanted to feel his hands everywhere against her bare skin, experience the tug of his mouth at her breast, know what it felt like to have his body molded to hers.

  In the next instant longing became reality as he stepped toward her, grasped her around the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the pass-through into the kitchen. Gripping his arms for balance, she groaned as his mouth latched onto hers.

  It was too much and not enough. Instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist, she couldn’t stop the sob that tore through her as he slicked his thumb over the slippery center of her desire. “Oh. Oh!”

  He groaned. “Angel, you’re so damn sweet—”

  “Love me, Riley,” she said insistently.

  She shuddered at his first powerful thrust. Pleasure slammed through her, unexpected, overpowering, unlike anything she’d ever known.

  She called his name and his arms tightened around her, his body rocked, and then he, too, was crying out. “Angel. Baby. Ah. Ah, damn—!”

  Angelica bolted awake, her heart pounding, her body throbbing. For a second she wasn’t quite sure where she was. All she knew was that she ached with a bewildering combination of satisfaction…and need.

  For Riley. For his touch and his kisses. For the sound of his voice saying her name and the hard slide of his body against hers, inside hers…

  She let out a breathless sob. Yet as the seconds passed, her mind began to clear and she knew it had all been just a dream. She wasn’t in her bedroom at her apartment following Mike’s funeral, but at Riley’s house in a spare room, on what was technically her wedding night.

  The thought had her scrambling free of the covers as if the mattress were on fire. Desperately seeking escape, she hurried across the room, yanked open the sliding glass door and fled outside, seeking comfort in the vastness of the night.

  She didn’t stop her flight until she reached the railing at the far side of the patio. Jerking to a halt, she pushed the hair off her damp face and took a deep breath, grateful for the cool air as it skimmed across her overheated skin.

  She looked up at the dense spangling of stars overhead, willing the past to recede. Yet it was as if she’d opened a window that wouldn’t shut; try as she might, she couldn’t refrain from thinking about the rest of the night she and Riley had spent together.

  After that first hungry coupling, he’d picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been the tender way he’d laid her down on the bed. Or the exquisite gentleness with which he’d gathered her into his arms and made love to her a second time, touching her in ways that had made her shiver. She especially remembered the way he’d laughed afterward when she’d confessed she’d always thought men had to wait awhile to “recover” between sexual acts. “Not all men. Not all the time,” he’d murmured. “And definitely not me with you.” His mouth had found her breast, making her moan as he’d set to proving the truth of his words all over again.

  That night had been a revelation—in more ways than one.

  After all the years of always holding herself back, of trying to prove that she was a worthwhile person even if she was a Dodd, she’d finally let go. And what she’d found was that with Riley, she was capable of the kind of passion that previously she’d only imagined. She’d given as much as she’d taken, making up in enthusiasm and a surprising lack of inhibition what she’d lacked in experience.

  When she’d finally fallen asleep near dawn, deliciously exhausted, her heart had been full. She’d genuinely believed that in Riley’s arms she’d found the place she belonged.

  When she’d opened her eyes several hours later, he’d been gone.

  At first she hadn’t been too concerned. She’d told herself he’d probably been late for work, that it had been chivalry that had stopped him from waking her and that he hadn’t left her a note because he intended to call her later.

  She’d been secure in her belief that what had happened between them had been special, that two people couldn’t experience the kind of intimacy they had without sharing a true connection. And so she’d showered and dressed, changed the sheets on the bed—and waited.

  For a call that never came. Not that day, or the next, or the one after that.

  And still she’d made excuses. Something had happened to him; he’d been in an accident and was lying unconscious in a hospital somewhere. There’d been a work-related emergency, and he’d had to go out of town. She’d spun dozens of outlandish scenarios, ignoring the little voice of reason that told her, among other things, that she would have heard if he’d been injured and that anywhere he had to go on Fortune business was bound to have a telephone.

  Even her faith had its limits, however, and finally she’d had to know. Chagrined to realize she didn’t have his home telephone number, which was unlisted, she’d screwed up her courage and called his office, braced for the bad news she expected to hear. Instead, when she asked the receptionist for him, the woman blandly responded, “One moment, please, and I’ll connect you.”

  Seconds later, he’d answered. “Riley Fortune.” His voice had been strong, brusque, businesslike and he’d obviously been hale and hearty. “Hello?”

  Feeling as if she’d been punched in the heart, she’d hung up without a word, all of her illusions ripped away as she finally accepted that she’d been deluding herself.
What had been the most incredible experience of her life had been nothing more to him than a one-night stand.

  And oh, how it had hurt.

  She was over that now, of course. Over him. True, as she’d proved when he’d shown up without warning at the Corral last week, there were still times when the memory of how naive and foolish she’d been hurt. But it wasn’t because she was in love with him. Or because she harbored a silly idea that some day he’d realize she was the only one for him. She’d put all those unrealistic dreams behind her. The only reason she’d married him was because it was in their baby’s best interest.

  Which was why tonight just proved that she’d made the right decision about not sleeping with him.

  Because if just being under the same roof with Riley could resurrect the dream of their one night together—and all the feelings it conjured up—she hated to think what would happen if she ever allowed herself to make love to him again.

  She’d be lost, his to do with as he wished—while he just skated along in full control, as cool as you please.

  It would be a cold day in hell before she allowed that to happen. Riley had some nerve thinking that after three months he could show up without a word, slip a ring on her finger and she’d simply fall into his arms.

  Feeling calm and more convinced than ever that she’d made the right decision, however difficult, she headed back toward the house and her solitary bed.

  She’d manage. She was nobody’s charity case.

  Five

  “Hi. Is Angelica home?”

  Riley considered the young man standing at his front door. The stranger was tall, blond and wholesome looking—and not a day over twenty-one. He was also staring at Riley with an expression that was less than friendly.

  Riley propped a shoulder against the jamb and casually crossed his arms. “Yeah, she is. Can I tell her who’s asking for her?”

  “Chris Rogers. She’s expecting me.”

  “She is, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Riley supposed it was possible. Conversation had been a little strained between him and his bride ever since the previous day when she’d dropped her little bombshell about abstaining from sex.

  Not that he hadn’t been a perfect gentleman. He had. He’d been civil if not exactly enthusiastic when she’d chosen one of the spare bedrooms for herself. He’d remained polite when she’d turned down his invitation to go out to dinner and opted for pizza delivery instead. He’d refrained from making a rude comment when she’d announced she was going to bed—alone—at 8:30. Hell, he’d even managed to stay put later when the alarm on the security pad in his bedroom had gone off shortly after midnight and he’d looked out to see her standing on the patio, the silvery highlights in her hair gleaming in the moonlight.

  On second thought, change that from gentleman to saint.

  He regarded Junior a little less tolerantly. “The last time I checked, my wife—” he couldn’t contain a faint note of irony “—was in the shower. But if you want to leave a message—”

  “Riley? I thought you were going to the office.” The faint sound of bare feet against the floor tile and the sudden, heady scent of shampoo and clean skin, as much as the sound of her voice, announced Angelica’s approach. “Is someone— Mo-mo!” she exclaimed happily.

  Riley belatedly shifted his attention to the big dog that had been lolling listlessly at Rogers’s feet. On some level he supposed he’d known that Angelica had a pet; the beast had been snoozing off in a corner both times he’d been to her place.

  But this was the first time he’d really taken a good look at it, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. The animal had big floppy ears, a shaggy coat, a long wiry tail with an unexpected white tip, and it was missing one eye. Adding to its shocking lack of charm, it was the color of dirt and the size of a compact car.

  At the sound of the new Mrs. Fortune’s voice, the beast dramatically perked up. With something that looked like a smile, the animal gave a woof, leapt up and bounded into the house, its whipcord tail beating the air like a hyperactive metronome.

  Angelica laughed and stooped to give the dog a hug, telling him how much she’d missed him in a soft, husky voice that made Riley’s pulse pick up. When she finally straightened, however, it wasn’t her husband but her visitor who got her attention. “Christopher, hi!” she said warmly. “I see you found the place.”

  Color suffused Rogers’s face and Riley almost felt sorry for the younger man—until he stopped to reflect that it had been three months since Angelica had smiled at him that way.

  “Yeah. I only got lost twice.” The kid made a comical face. “All these mansions look alike.”

  Angelica made a sympathetic sound. “I know. Did everything else go all right? Did Cosmo behave?”

  “Pretty much. Except that he flatly refused to go jogging with me this morning.”

  Riley suppressed an appreciative grunt. Apparently the dog was smarter than he looked.

  “He’s not real big on unnecessary exercise,” Angelica confided wryly. “Are you, baby?” She gave Cosmo another pat and the dog thumped his tail against the floor, leaving a smattering of dun-colored hairs on the expensive Oriental rug. She again turned her gaze on Rogers. “Did you meet Riley?”

  “I know who he is,” Rogers replied at the same time that Riley murmured, “Not really.”

  She glanced between the two of them, her expression puzzled, then seemed to decide her best course of action was to ignore their obvious lack of enthusiasm for each other. She smiled brightly at her guest. “Well, good. I really appreciate you taking care of Cosmo, Chris.”

  “I brought you a copy of my notes from yesterday.” Clearly intent on heading off a dismissal, he pulled a sheaf of papers out of his back pocket. “Lambaugh went over most of the material for the final. I thought you’d want to see it.”

  “Oh. That’s great!” She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze, and to his shock Riley realized he didn’t like seeing her touch the other man. Thankfully, his feelings must not have shown, or at least she gave no sign of it as she turned to him and said, “Chris is my study partner. We’re both students at the U of A at Tucson.”

  “You’re going to college?”

  She laughed self-consciously. “Actually, if I pass all my finals this month, I’ll be done. Finally.”

  Damned if she wasn’t full of surprises. Questions crowded his mind, but he wasn’t about to expose his ignorance with Junior standing there. “Ah.”

  The kid didn’t have any such reservations. “Are we still on for Thursday?” he asked, pointedly ignoring Riley and stepping closer to Angelica.

  “Oh.” She frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “What happens Thursday?” Riley inquired.

  “That’s our usual study night. We’ve been meeting at my place, but obviously that’s no longer an option.”

  “So meet here.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. You don’t have to ask permission, Angel. This is your home now.”

  Their eyes met. Hers held surprise and gratitude, and it made him feel funny. Sort of good and guilty all at the same time, since he hadn’t offered out of the kindness of his heart, but because he didn’t particularly want Junior drooling on her somewhere out of his line of sight.

  With a faint shock, he realized that some misguided person might actually accuse him of being…jealous. Not that he was. But still…the mere idea made him feel queasy. He glanced pointedly at his watch. “I’d better get going,” he said gruffly. Before I do or say something I know I’ll regret.

  Angelica considered him, a faintly puzzled look on her face. “How long will you be?”

  He hiked a shoulder. “Don’t know. I’ll call you later. If you need me before that, I left the office number on the kitchen counter.”

  “Okay.”

  He forced himself to walk away, wondering as he did what was the matter with him. It wasn’t as if he and Angelica were in love or anything. So why did having some
young pup hanging around her bother him?

  But deep down, he knew. Just as he’d realized yesterday, he was never going to be completely at ease with her until he could stop obsessing over the night they’d spent together. While he wouldn’t go so far as to say the things he’d felt that night haunted him, he was more than ready to prove to himself that the tenderness and protectiveness, the possessiveness and the hunger, had been merely an aberration. And the only way to do that was for him to sleep with her a second time and finally get it out of his system.

  Which would be all fine and dandy except that Angelica had made it clear she didn’t intend to go along with what he had in mind.

  So? Since when have you ever backed off from a challenge? Particularly when it involved a woman. Not that a woman has ever rejected you before, but that’s beside the point… If you really think taking Angelica to bed is the right thing to do, don’t you owe it to both of you to see it through?

  Well…yeah. And not just for his sake, but Angelica’s, too, since he’d be a whole lot easier to live with once he was no longer plagued by all these unsettling thoughts.

  For everyone’s peace of mind, he was just going to have to seduce his wife.

  Angelica swallowed a bite of moist, tender chicken and gazed consideringly at Riley, seated across from her at the dining room table. “I have to admit, I never pictured you as knowing your way around the kitchen. But this is delicious.”

  He took a sip of his wine, his smokey eyes impossible to read in the soft glow of the candlelight. “I have lots of hidden talents. Being able to cook is just one of them.”

  She didn’t doubt that for a minute. They’d been married barely more than twenty-four hours, but she’d be the first to concede that he was just full of surprises.

  His house was a case in point. She’d expected it to be beautiful, which it was. But it was also homey and comfortable, and it was clear, from its over-stuffed, pillow-strewn furniture to its well-stocked pantry to its extensive collection of books and CDs that it was Riley’s haven. Yet he’d been extremely gracious, telling her it was her house now, too, and she was free to make changes.