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and tightly-pinned-back hair.
"Mr. Steele," she said. Once the door closed, he
responded, "You can drop the 'mister' stuff now."
She smiled, and it stirred him. No time to think
about sex now, he reminded himself.
"Are you ready to assemble our agreement? I
have the details of the will, as well as some
suggestions for our respective pre-nups," she said.
She crossed her legs the way any woman would,
but on her it looked sexy, seductive. He swallowed
hard.
"Actually, I've been thinking. Maybe we
shouldn't have a written agreement. Suppose a
copy of it gets into the wrong hands?"
Her brow furrowed. "How would a copy get into
the wrong hands? You'll have a copy, and I'll have a
copy. We both have a vested interest in keeping our
real relationship secret."
"Don't be mad at me for saying so, but you
don't. Once we're married, you could extort more
money from me by threatening to make public our
agreement. You don't really have anything to lose
by doing so."
Icicles formed in her stare. "Except my integrity
and self-respect, but because you can't attach a
dollar amount to those, I guess they don't count."
She stood up. "Maybe this is all a mistake. I'm
leaving now, Mister Steele."
"No, don't, please. Ah, hell, I didn't mean to
offend you." He searched his mind for something to
say that would lighten the moment. "Want to spank
me?"
Her expression softened. "You know my desires
only run only in one direction when it comes to
that," she said "but I appreciate the gesture.
Apology accepted."
"Good. Let's get to work."
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1-800-THE-WIFE
Chapter Two
A week later, Patience stood before the justice
of the peace with Rafe, her knees nearly knocking
with fright and arousal. He'd told her she looked
gorgeous in her ivory silk dress and matching
pumps.
She should hope so. She'd shopped forever for
the dress, finally locating one that revealed her
shape while still being respectable-looking enough
for her wedding. But the time she d spent had been
worth it, just to hear Rafe s compliment.
And, as her practical side reminded her, it was a
dress she could wear again, to a cocktail party or
evening business function.
Suddenly she was saying, "I do," and Rafe was
smiling down at her. When his mouth pressed
against hers, she felt dizzy and hot. She grabbed
him tightly, her lips parting, and he took full
advantage. After he pulled away, her lips burned
and ached.
Never had she been so thoroughly kissed.
His palm slid down her back to pat her rear.
"Shall we go now?" he said, a wicked smile
spreading across his face.
In the elevator, she fantasized about rucking up
her dress and climbing on Rafe. She wanted him to
take her, here, now, his hands cupping her naked
bottom as they moved together towards ecstasy.
After all, they were married, even if it was just
supposed to be for show.
She turned to him, lifting her arms to pull him
close just as the elevator s door slid open. She
blinked at the bright light streaming in the city hall's
clerestory windows.
She pretended to stretch her upraised arms
before dropping them.
"How would you like to celebrate?" he said.
"Celebrate?" Her head whirled as she considered
how she wanted to celebrate.
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"Most people do after they get married, you
know."
That wicked smile of his made her tummy do
flip-flops. "Shall we go for a drink?"
"I've got a better idea. You've never seen the
inside of my home. And now you're my wife, so you
should. Want to?"
Her heart thudded against her ribs as she said,
"Yes."
They'd driven to their wedding in separate cars,
so he followed to her place, where she parked hers.
Once inside his tiny sports car, sitting near enough
to lean on him, she thought she'd faint.
Silently she scolded herself, stop this, but it was
clear that her body really, really craved an old-
fashioned wedding night with Rafe. Thank goodness
the ride to his place was short.
He gave her the grand tour, as he laughingly
called it, the two of them winding up in his den. A
bottle of fine champagne appeared, and before she
knew it, she'd helped him kill the bottle. They sat
together on a well-stuffed leather couch, their talk
trailing off.
He cleared his throat. "Would you like something
more? To drink, I mean."
Her head was light from champagne and sex-
saturated thoughts and she didn't know what else. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]