Paper Marriage Proposition

  His arms, strong and hard, slowly slid around her waist. A fluttery, hopeful sensation danced inside her and she couldn’t quite quell it. He murmured her name over the top of her head as he drew her to his strong body.

  Feeling naked and vulnerable in his arms, she dropped her hands to his shoulders—in a poor, poor effort to push him away—but didn’t dare open her eyes.

  What was he doing?

  Why had he stared at her as if she were naked?

  God, what was he doing?

  “Look at me,” he said.

  She bit her trembling lower lip and quietly refused to.

  His hand slid languorously up her spine, and his fingers caressed the bare skin on her back as he huskily murmured, “Look at me, Beth…”

  She felt the gentle cup of his hand on the back of her head, drawing her forward until his lips were a breath away.

  “…and tell me you don’t want this.”

  He covered her lips with his. She stiffened at the contact, trying to fight it, but his lips felt plush and warm, and when the wet silk of his tongue swept into her mouth, she was lost. Lost in the moment, in a kiss that was profound with yearning and rough with hunger, a kiss that was shattering and devastating and beautiful, a kiss from a man she wanted and feared and admired.

  An unfamiliar desperation rose inside her, the need to experience this closeness with someone staggering in intensity, making her not only respond but do so with hot, ardent abandon. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he was suddenly more crucial than air, and her every defense against him fled. Her fingers bit into his shoulders and her mouth began to move frantically under his.

  “More,” he rasped, and slanted his head, “Give me more.”

  A moan rushed out of her, muffled by his mouth as their lips dissolved in a hungry, wild exploration. He tasted of coffee. Smelled like a man. His hands greedily roamed her sides, along her back, clutching and kneading even while pressing her against him.

  Eager to investigate every plane, ridge, angle of his body, she let her hands venture up his back and curled her fingers around his thick nape. His arms tightened around her and he groaned into her mouth. He was so aroused! She could feel it, the thundering in his chest against her breast, the sharp shudder that rushed through him as he deepened the kiss and ground his need against her in slow, suggestive moves of his hips.

  Rather than fill her with fear, the stab of his broad, unyielding hardness sent a flood of warmth across her body, and the muscles of her tummy clenched with need.

  In the darkness of this bedroom and very late at night, she’d wondered if he spent sleepless nights like she had, thinking of him. If he was haunted by the kiss they’d shared before the press. And if he’d both been waiting for and wanting a new one. But it was insane!

  Squirming, she pushed him away and gasped for air. He pulled back, and her chest heaved crazily, and her lips tingled with the sweet moisture of his mouth.

  He cupped her face between both his hands and focused on her eyes with a heavy-lidded gaze. “I won’t apologize,” he said, a warning.

  Dizzied, Beth had trouble pulling away, couldn’t seem to find her grounding. She found herself clinging to his collar with her fists. “Why? Why did you kiss me?”

  There were no reporters now, no priest demanding he kiss the bride, no need to kiss her at all. She’d done the same to him that first night, but she’d been desperate. What about him?

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently pried her cramped fingers from his shirt, set her arms at her sides with a brotherly pat, and smiled a devil’s smile from the door. “Good night, Bethany.”

  He could still taste her.

  It amused him. It annoyed him. It made him feel starved.

  Across the room, Landon watched the blonde, blue-eyed vision in a cream wedding dress mingle among the well-dressed crowd and colorful blur of dancers.

  They’d planned a small celebration—nothing too posh. Bethany had asked for simple and simple was what Bethany got.

  Lush white casablancas populated his home today. They were accompanied by music, candles and a promising buffet. A buffet that couldn’t possibly satisfy Landon’s hunger. No, nothing could appease this hunger. This aching, growing void for more.

  The tension between them had been building during the week. Like a fire stoked with their plotting, their glances, their smiles. Landon was known as a patient man, but his body didn’t listen to patience tonight.

  He thrummed with desire. Had strained against his pants all through the ride to city hall. He’d watched her loose honeyed hair brush against her shoulders, her small, pert breasts rise and fall under her form-fitting dress.

  It would have taken nothing to lean over and kiss her again. This time touch her, caress her soft skin, wrap his hands around her hair.

  But she wasn’t ready. Last night she’d pushed him away. And Landon would wait. So she trusted him, respected him. Wanted him bad enough to come to him.

  His wife…

  The tantalizing thought made him groan low in his throat. Did she moan when she made love? Did the thought of being legally bound to him play with her libido the same way it did with his? He closed his eyes and exhaled a ragged breath, attempting to forget the way her mouth had tasted, of apples and pears.

  With effort, he pushed away from the limestone column in the foyer and made his way back into the party, watching Kate and Bethany chat. Her dress molded to her slender body, and the sight drove him up the wall.

  Bethany spotted him, said something to Kate, then both women, Kate with her tray which she seemed hard-pressed to set down, and Beth with a smile, began coming forward.

  People circulated around the living room and the small dance floor, but the noise of them went distant, unimportant somehow.

  Because Beth and Kate were coming over.

  His pulse went haywire.

  Someone slapped his back and stopped him in his tracks. “I noticed you haven’t kissed the bride,” Julian said.

  Garrett was with him, and the three men stood watching the women wind their way across.

  “And why is that?” This from Garrett. “Last time you celebrated this very wedding, you gave us all quite a viewing, Lan.”

  Landon’s pulse jumped as it always did when Bethany stared at him with those big bright eyes. He lowered his voice so she couldn’t hear him. “It’s about time I kissed her in private.”

  “I’m kinda put out you haven’t tasted my spinach rolls,” Kate said to Julian when they arrived, extending the tray.

  But it was Garrett who instantly snatched one up, made an obliging sound and tasted it. Landon had seen Kate in ponytails—she was the closest to a little sister the Gages had—but it was Garrett who got five stars for sticking by her side when she grew breasts and a penchant for trouble. Poor Garrett.

  “Well?” Kate prodded. “Good?”

  Garrett said something, but Landon didn’t hear. He hungrily studied Bethany’s mouth. Her fragrance wafted into his lungs. Sweet and female, creating havoc with his insides. He didn’t know what it was about her. Something intrinsic in her, the sexual siren mixed with the fierceness of a mother cougar and the calm of an angel.

  “There’s more where that came from,” Kate said. “And there’s dancing, too. You guys have heard of that, haven’t you? Something people do to have fun?”

  Garrett muttered something to her, yanked the tray away and shoved it into a waiter’s hands, and dragged her to the dance floor. Julian took his exit cue when no one spoke a word. Bethany remained, uneasy on her feet, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  Landon stepped closer, and before she could turn to leave, he reached out and seized her wrist. His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  Oh, God, he was so sexy.

  The offer—the low timbre of his voice and the rough way he’d asked her—sent a flock of winged creatures loose inside Beth.

  She nodded before she realized what she
was doing and allowed Landon to lead her past Kate, past Garrett, past their families, past their friends.

  They’d organized only a small celebration, had already smiled for pictures for the press. Beth had met some of Landon’s Harvard friends, business colleagues. They’d done everything but dance. In fact, they’d done everything but act like a newly married couple.

  Until now.

  Her heart felt like a restless rabbit as they reached the farthest corner of the dance floor. Whomp whomp whomp.

  This was probably just for show but the excitement swimming inside her was all too real. God, what was she going to do?

  She felt his hands splay on her back and took a deep, ragged breath. The music flared and Landon drew her into the circle of his arms. The memory of the way he’d kissed her last night, the way the sight of her in this very dress had made him lose his normally sharp mind, made her stomach clench.

  Striving to keep calm, she set her hands lightly on his wide shoulders and searched for chat topics in her brain but couldn’t find any except one. Suddenly, that reckless kiss they’d shared had become the proverbial white elephant in the room.

  The tension crackled between them, and her nerves felt like electrical wires. “You kissed me.”

  His eyes flashed. He tightened his hold around her, and her traitorous body molded against his lean, hard length. “I remember you kissing me back.”

  His rumbling voice, so near, sent little tingles racing up and down her spine, and she didn’t want them to.

  In a sleek black suit and silver tie, Landon was so arresting it took an enormous effort for Beth to focus on the matter at hand. Focus on anything but the rightness of being in her mock husband’s arms, with those piercing thick-lashed eyes on her face.

  “Landon, I wanted to speak to you about the hearing,” she said.

  “Beth, I don’t want to talk about this now.”

  “But I do. I was going to bring it up tomorrow after you’d read the book but we might as well discuss it here. The sooner we get David back, the sooner we can get divorced, right?”

  She just didn’t trust herself not to do something stupid while married to him. Enduring his proximity every day, knowing he was near every single sleepless night, was the slowest, most painful kind of physical torture she’d ever known.

  She couldn’t take this much longer.

  She licked her lips in nervousness. “The book’s upstairs—you could probably read it in a few hours. How soon could we schedule a hearing?”

  His face was indecipherable, but the firmness of his arms around her gave her the sensation of being both trapped and protected. “We need to be married for a while before I request one. And before I do, I need to make sure we’ll win. I hate to say this, but you can’t afford to lose again, Bethany.”

  She met Kate’s curious gaze as she danced by with Garrett, smiled a little at her, then sighed. “It’s just that every day that goes by I fear I’m losing him. What if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if it’s too late?”

  “Your son loves you. How could he not?”

  The words touched something hidden inside of her, places she dare not get into for fear of crying. She forced herself to face him. “What if he stops? What if he feels I abandoned him, what if he’s told I’m a monster and he believes it? I know I can’t see him but just the sight of him, to see him smile at me, that’s all I want. Just to know that he…that he’s still my little boy.”

  The tenderness in his eyes loosened a ribbon of sadness inside of her. “You feel like you disappointed him,” he murmured, stroking his splayed hands up her bare back.

  His warm, soothing caresses made her throat clog with emotion. “I probably did.”

  “You feel like you should’ve seen it coming, should have protected him?”

  His hair had grown longer, and the silky raven black tips curled playfully at his collar. Suddenly, disturbingly, she reached upward and delved her hands into the thick silken mass. He stiffened. His hands halted. His chest vibrated as though he’d held back a groan.

  Slowly, they started moving again, to the music.

  She was mesmerized by the depth in his eyes, the stormy understanding, and suddenly she knew he wasn’t just talking about her, not anymore. She lowered her voice, so that none of the nearby dancing couples overheard.

  “You couldn’t have known, either, Landon. Accidents happen.”

  He pulled her closer, and a muscle worked taut at the back of his jaw as he clenched it. “I could’ve stopped her, Beth, I heard the door, I knew there was nothing between us, I suspected she wasn’t well.”

  She didn’t realize she tenderly stroked his jaw until she heard him breathe in, deep, as though trying to collect himself. Collect her scent.

  Her nipples pricked at that sensual thought.

  With a low groan, Landon turned his face into her hand and brushed his lips against the inside of her palm. “So, no, to your former question. It’s not too late for you,” he murmured.

  His eyes held that same smoldering admiration she’d seen all week, and it made her gaze rush away and her hand return to his shoulder.

  He looked hungry and compassionate and strong. Strong enough to hang on to. He was utterly gorgeous, this big bad husband of hers. Which had been creating some big bad problems for Beth.

  She ached to kiss him, slide her fingers up the thick tendons at his neck, bury her face against his throat and just smell him.

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said, quietly, then forced herself to listen to the haunting tune playing while a knot of tension continued growing in her stomach.

  “You’re right, let’s not,” he agreed.

  She heard the rustle of silk as he slid his hand up her back. Her pulse quickened as his thumb grazed the bare skin.

  “You enjoy…dancing?” she asked, starting to pant.

  His lazy smile could disarm a regiment. “I would if you’d start moving with me.”

  She laughed and swayed a little more, allowing him to press her close enough to be aware of every beautiful, hard part of him. He smelled male, clean. Delicious.

  His hands shifted trajectory, sliding down her back, long fingers making goose bumps prick across her bare arms.

  “Mother and Kate are staying over tonight,” he murmured as he studied her with scorching eyes. The deliberate brush of his fingers against the start of her buttocks made her catch her breath. “They don’t want to drive at such a late hour to Alamo Heights. I’m afraid you’re going to have to share my room tonight.”

  Her breath hitched in her lungs. The thought of being near him was hell. She feared she could resist anything, anyone, but him. Don’t don’t don’t make me lose myself, Landon.

  “What about the other room down the hall, the one—”

  “That’s my son’s room. And it’s off-limits.”

  His son’s room. Her heart stuttered, then her eyes widened in realization. So he didn’t know. He didn’t know, couldn’t speak that way about his son if he knew.

  Pain knifed through her at the thought of knowing something so vile about his past that he didn’t. He must believe that Chrystine and Hector’s affair had started after he and Chrystine got married. Beth had once supposed the same, until the day she’d confronted Hector and had learned that he and the woman he was sleeping with apparently went back for years.

  She loathed to think Landon didn’t know that Chrystine and Hector had fooled around together before Landon even met her, and that when she ended up pregnant, Landon hadn’t been the only possible father.

  He’d only been the most convenient one for her purposes.

  Something wrenched painfully inside her stomach at the thought of telling him. She could tell him, yes. That his first wife had been an incredible actress and a very convincing liar. But why open that wound? Why hurt him like that when he’d been wonderful to her?

  God, she needed a drink. A whole lot of drinks. A margarita, a martini.

  Unaware of wh
y she’d stiffened, Landon eased his hold around her a fraction. “Relax, Bethany. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She shuddered, and for one brief moment, let her eyes drift shut and her stiffness melt away into his strength. “I know.”

  And Beth wasn’t going to hurt him, either. Not this man. Not now, and not with this truth.

  Eight

  Overall, he’d say the wedding was a success.

  The reporters had taken shots, most of his friends had departed, and now only family remained, lounging on the twin sofas inside the book-lined study.

  Beth was on her fourth glass of champagne. Landon had consumed double that amount. She smiled now as though happy, smiling like…well, he didn’t know what. But her smile was so pretty it made his lips curve, too.

  “I’m thinking of something silver…” Beth’s mother, Helen, said.

  Everyone made their guesses, and Landon watched his wife pick the cranberries from the nut and dried fruit mix.

  Note to self: she likes cranberries.

  He kept wondering things, like if she slept with socks or not, if her soap smelled like she did, if she sighed when she made love, or moaned, or whimpered. He wondered if she was ticklish, and if the faraway look that sometimes shadowed her eyes was due to missing David.

  He’d not wanted anything like this for years.

  Unbelievable, that suddenly he was up for revenge, he was up for sex, up for seduction. Now every morning he awakened with a charge of anticipation, knowing that a woman would be under this roof with him, soon in his bed, a woman so wound up he knew she needed this as badly as he did.

  “Landon, your turn.”

  He lifted his gaze to Kate. “My turn for…?”

  “Twenty questions.”

  Beth’s smile faded as she considered him expectantly, and a fierce tangle of desire and emotion kept getting bottled up inside him. He couldn’t understand this irrational pull she had on him, but tonight he was tired of pushing against it. He scraped his chin with his thumb and forefinger, unable to think of anything.