Hired Bride

by Noelle Adams

  Deanna laughed. She couldn’t help it. He looked so guilty and worried by his gaff, although she actually liked him better for it, since he didn’t seem so fake and practiced. “I know what you meant. And, thank you, I would love to put some stuff in the shop, if you think it would be of interest. I’ll have to make some more first, though, since I’ve sold most of my best stuff already.”

  “Sure. Any time.”

  They smiled at each other, both of them clearly pleased by this arrangement, and Deanna suddenly remembered that she couldn’t fall under his thrall again.

  She would need to be careful. It felt like the spontaneous offer was genuine and wasn’t part of his charming act, but he would use it for sure, and she couldn’t let him succeed in wooing her.

  As if he’d read her mind, he slipped an arm around her waist and smiled down at her in that intimate way, the expression that was supposed to leave her weak and boneless. Even now, knowing what he was doing, it almost worked. “I had no idea my new bride was so talented,” he said.

  She had to fight the instinct to pull away. Instead, she gave a silly giggle. “I’m not that talented. Thank you, though.”

  When she glanced up, she saw that Kelly was looking at her suspiciously. Her sister would know this was not normal behavior for her, and she would wonder why. “Well, let’s start gathering all this stuff up,” Kelly said, fortunately not asking about Deanna’s actions. “Just be careful. We don’t want another bead spill. Remember last time?”

  Deanna shuddered at the memory of her grandmother knocking over a tin of beads in the back sitting room, where Deanna had been working on them. It had been months before they’d found them all.

  She could just picture Mitchell’s face if tiny little beads ended up rolling all over his no doubt immaculate, modern house. He would hate that.

  In fact, if he got too obnoxious, she could always arrange for a little accidental bead spill. It would be a good thing to keep in her pocket.

  For now, though, he wasn’t being too smarmy, although he smiled at her too much and gave her a few more compliments when she showed him her jewelry. The three of them managed to pack a few boxes with all her supplies and then the girls let Mitchell carry them down to the car, since he insisted.

  “What’s going on?” Kelly whispered when he carried the first two boxes down at one time.

  “What do you mean?” Deanna knew what her sister was talking about, but she acted innocent.

  “You know. I assume you haven’t miraculously fallen in love in a couple of hours. Why are you acting that way?”

  “What way?”

  “I don’t know. All silly and giggly.”

  Deanna raised her eyebrows. “I have my reasons.”

  Kelly snickered. “Do you have some sort of wicked plot going on?”

  “Maybe.”

  “He really got on your bad side,” Kelly said. “I haven’t seen you look like this since Melissa Larsen told your whole class that you’d slept with her boyfriend. What did Mitchell do?”

  “Nothing. It’s not like that.” Although it was exactly like that.

  “Seriously, what did he—“

  “Nothing,” Deanna said quickly, waving a hand when she heard Mitchell coming into the house again. “Now, shh, don’t say anything.”

  Deanna was smiling sweetly as Mitchell came up again, and this time Kelly was smiling sweetly too.

  He pulled to a stop, looking at them warily. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

  “Nothing,” Deanna assured him, wishing her sister wasn’t smiling quite so fakely.

  “Were you talking about me?”

  “Maybe a little.” She took his arm to pull him back into the bedroom so he couldn’t start to interrogate Kelly. “It’s not every day that a girl has a marriage of convenience, and it’s natural her sister might want to hear about it.”

  Mitchell chuckled as he picked up the last box. His hair was slightly mussed, and he was sweating slightly in the heat. He looked even more attractive than he had before. “Maybe I want to hear about it.”

  “Well, you can’t.” She gave him a little swat, hoping that was something an easy-to-manage wife might do, and she followed him down the stairs, wanting to get out before her grandmother returned.

  If Grandmama arrived, they’d have to do the niceties, which would mean they’d be stuck here for another hour at least.

  Mitchell didn’t linger, so maybe he had the same idea, and soon they were on their way south toward his house, the boxes of beads in the back of his car.

  They were stopped at a light when she recognized that Mitchell’s gaze was on her face again.

  “What?” she asked, pushing her hair behind her ear and not having to pretend the feeling of self-consciousness.

  “You look beautiful today,” he said, his voice huskier than normal.

  She dropped her eyes. She’d expected this. It was clearly part of the nice-act he was putting on to keep her doing his bidding. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like yours before.”

  She’d actually heard this from other people—her eyes were a very unusual shade of light green—so it was possible that he meant it. “I always hated them when I was a kid. I had teachers who used to think I was wearing eye makeup, since my eyes were so light and my eyelashes so dark.”

  “They’re gorgeous. All of you is gorgeous.”

  She blushed, and it was for real, since there was a note in his voice she couldn’t help but like. Almost a caress.

  She reminded herself to get a grip, though.

  She couldn’t forget that he hadn’t been pleased by the prospect of six months without sex. He would want to have sex, and he wouldn’t be able to go outside their marriage to get it.

  Which meant he would want to have sex with her. He’d agreed too quickly at the contract negotiations. He probably thought she would easily succumb to his advances, and her behavior at the engagement party must have confirmed this fact.

  He no doubt believed that he’d have no trouble talking her into sex with him tonight. She wasn’t opposed to letting him believe so for now. Let him think she was every bit as silly and spineless as he believed.

  It was Mitchell who would be surprised and disappointed when he spent his wedding night alone.

  ***

  After a brief flicker of concern when Deanna acted so skittish at the wedding, Mitchell was pleased with how things were going.

  Deanna was easy to get along with, and she seemed to get more beautiful every time he saw her. It wouldn’t be hard to work out an arrangement that worked for him—a wife who didn’t cause him any trouble and a willing sex partner.

  He was getting more excited about the sex partner idea as the evening went on.

  They’d gotten to his place, and he’d carried her beads into the sitting room of her suite, which he’d had fixed up for her last week. Deanna seemed happy with everything, and they’d both been in good moods after they’d showered, rested, and had dinner together on the terrace that overlooked the river.

  Mitchell asked her about her bead work, since he was sincerely interested in it and impressed by how good she was at it. Then she asked about his family, and he told her some about his sister and mother.

  She seemed to want to hear about his mother’s history with the Darlington Café. He’d started by only sharing a few minor details, but at her questions he told her more, until he was spilling all kinds of stuff he wasn’t in the habit of talking about—including how his mother would come back from working at the restaurant late when he was just a boy and he’d be awake so she’d fix them both pancakes.

  They split a bottle of wine so he was relaxed and satisfied as they fell into silence. The breeze brought with it the tang of salt and the sweetness of magnolias from the tree at the corner of the house. Deanna’s eyes looked huge and otherworldly as they gazed up at him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

&nb
sp; Despite her docile demeanor, she seemed to have depth, like there was far more going on under the surface than she ever revealed to the world.

  He wanted to know what it was, what was simmering under the surface. He wanted it to break the delicate prettiness of her quietude.

  He put down his glass and shook himself off slightly, looking away from her at last. What the hell was he even thinking? He’d like to get her into bed. That was probably all that was prompting his weird, intense thoughts.

  It was still early—not even eight. Usually he worked out in the evenings, but if Deanna would like to go straight to bed, he would have no objections.

  “What do you do in the evenings?” he asked.

  She gave a little shrug. “It depends. There were always jobs to do around the house. It was really falling down around our heads. But otherwise, I’d just do some beads and watch TV or something.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to do that here, if you’d like. You can watch the big screen one downstairs, if you want.”

  If she went into her own suite and closed the door, it would be harder to ease into sex.

  “Okay. Thank you!” She beamed at him, and he felt another surge of desire overtake him, along with that feeling from before of wanting to know what was really going on under the surface.

  It had been a long time since he’d been as consumed by lust as this. He wasn’t even sure where it was coming from.

  An hour later, they were both in the media room, seated on the floor in front of the couch.

  Mitchell wasn’t actually a fan of sitting on the floor, but Deanna had set up her beads there, and he wanted to sit next to her.

  She hadn’t brought all the tins of beads down—just one that seemed to be a random mix of all different colors and styles. She was working on what she told him would be a fancy clutch, but she’d just started so he had no way of ascertaining what the finished product would look like.

  He watched her, though, as much as she watched the old movie she’d turned on.

  Her hands were tiny but they worked incredibly fast, threading the beads in an arrangement she must be able to see in her mind. She would bite her bottom lip as she concentrated, and he was mesmerized by the little gesture. He was also mesmerized by the way her camisole kept dipping to expose a hint of cleavage.

  She’d changed into her pajamas before she’d come to watch television, which was perfectly amenable to Mitchell.

  He’d asked her questions to begin with, but now he was just watching. She’d look up occasionally, and her eyelashes would flutter down when she realized he was focused on her.

  After more than an hour, she caught him looking again and burst out, “Why do you keep staring at me?”

  It was a perfectly good opening. He wasn’t going to let it slide by. “Because you’re too gorgeous not to look at.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m not that gorgeous.”

  “I beg to differ.” He reached over and cupped one of her cheeks, his hand looking big and rough against her delicate skin. “I’ve never seen anyone as gorgeous as you. I don’t know how it happened. It just seemed to sneak up on me. I thought you were pretty the first time we met, but now I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

  He hadn’t intended to say quite so much—all of it absolutely true—but it seemed to work at least. She blushed deeply, dropping her eyes once more, only to lift them again in that alluring way. His breath actually hitched with a tightening of desire, just from the provocation of her expression.

  “I think you’re full of it,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly, proof that she was responding to him.

  “I’m full of something,” he admitted, “But it’s not what you think.”

  She blinked and her mouth parted to say something, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. Still cupping her cheek, he leaned down to kiss her fully on the mouth.

  She made a little whimpering sound, frozen for a few moments as his lips moved against hers. Then something seemed to crack or uncoil inside her. She let out a little moan and grabbed at his neck, holding on as he deepened the kiss.

  His blood was coursing with excitement as he gathered her small, lush body in his arms, pulling her up so she was straddling his lap, which was the only comfortable way of kissing her on the floor like this. Then she was all over him, sucking his tongue into her mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck, rubbing herself against him.

  She felt warm and real and eager and passionate in his arms, and it drove him into deeper need. He wanted to devour her, swallow her whole. His groin was aching with a pulsing need that drove him well beyond thought.

  She wanted him too. He could feel it. He wasn’t sure he could go much longer without having her.

  The kiss finally broke, and she whimpered again as she dropped her head back, exposing the lovely line of her neck for his enjoyment. He leaned forward to nibble a line down it, pausing to mouth at her pulse.

  She squirmed, obviously as turned on as he was. He moved his arms so he could hold onto her, spanning the curve of her ribs with his hands just under her breasts. She arched into him, flushed and responsive and causing his already hard erection to throb dangerously in his pants.

  He wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer. He needed to have her. Now.

  “Can I take you to bed?” he asked, surprised by how breathless he sounded.

  She gave a little moan, rubbing herself against the bulge in his pants, obviously wanting the friction. But then something changed in her body—tightened, cooled down—and she was climbing off his lap. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Wait,” he said, reaching out for her again, “What are you doing?”

  “Sorry about all this,” she said, hiding her eyes—in a different way than she’d been doing before. “I didn’t mean to let it go so far. I was—I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? Why do we have to stop?” He was starting to come to a bleak realization that things weren’t going exactly as he’d envisioned them this evening.

  “I don’t want to have sex.” She put the work she’d done in the tin with the beads, her fingers trembling visibly.

  He almost choked. “Yes, you do. You were as into things as I was. What the hell is going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, not meeting his eyes as she straightened up. “I didn’t mean to be that kind of tease. I just…I don’t want to have sex. I’m going to bed.”

  “What? Deanna, what—“ He broke off as she jumped to her feet. He stood up too, reaching out for her again. “Tell me why we can’t have sex when we obviously both want to.”

  “I don’t want to. Not really. Just let me go.” She jerked her arm out of his grip, and the move surprised him. He stepped backwards, knocking into the tin of beads, which hadn’t been fully closed.

  The tin jerked violently and about half the beads spilled out, rolling out in all directions in a huge mess on the smooth hardwood floor.

  Mitchell groaned. “Deanna!” His arousal was throbbing almost painfully now, and it was obviously not going to be satisfied in the way he wanted.

  She was almost at the door, but she turned to say over her shoulder. “I said I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to go that far. But maybe…” she made a strange choking sound. “Maybe I’m not a wife who is as easy to manage as you thought.”

  Five

  The next morning, Deanna felt like crap.

  She felt horrible about the night before. She’d always intended to lead him on to a certain extent—make him think he was succeeding before pulling the rug out from under him—but she’d never planned to get so far.

  Once he’d started to kiss her, it was like something came alive inside her, something that couldn’t be stopped.

  She’d come to her senses eventually. Just in time. She’d been on the brink of surrendering everything to him, which would have been a mistake she might never have recovered from. But then she felt like a heartless tease, leaving him turned
on that way.

  She let her breath out as she stared at the ceiling of an unfamiliar bedroom. Oh well. Nothing to do about it. It was done. She’d apologize this morning and try to do better in the future.

  No matter how mad he made her or how condescending he acted toward her, no more games. This was real life. They both were real people who could be hurt. And there could be consequences she didn’t foresee.

  With this resolved in her mind, she felt better about the whole situation, and she got up to take a shower. There was a coffee maker in her sitting room, so she made herself a cup to drink as she got dressed. It was Sunday, so she pulled on capris and a knit top, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do with herself today in this big unfamiliar house.

  If she got too bored, she could always go visit her family. She reminded herself of this as she pulled her hair back in a low ponytail and ventured out of her pretty suite.

  She wandered around until she practically ran into Mitchell. He must have been working out because he was soaked with sweat, so much that his shirt was sticking to his chest and moisture dripped down the sides of his face.

  He still managed to look sexy, but she made herself ignore this fact.

  “Morning,” she said with an apologetic smile.

  “Hi.” He was studying her closely, the way he had at the wedding the day before, as if he were still trying to figure her out.

  Wanting to get the whole thing over with, she burst out, “Sorry about last night.”

  At exactly the same time, he burst out, “Sorry about everything,” too.

  They stared at each other in surprise.

  “What are you sorry about?” she asked at last, feeling rattled and even more attracted to him now that he looked almost sheepish—much more sincere than anything she’d seen from him before.

  He let out a breath. “Obviously, you overheard what I was saying to Brie last week at the party.”