A Convenient Husband (6 page)

‘No means yes,' she felt obliged to explain. ‘Actually, no means a lot of other things too. Mostly finding out what he wants is a matter of elimination.'

‘In this case I feel sure that it means he wants bacon and eggs.'

‘He won't eat it,' she predicted.

‘I will.'

‘You,' she announced in exasperation, ‘are nothing but a troublemaker! Anyhow, I haven't got any,' she lied.

‘Ah…shopping day.'

As if he knew about such things!

‘And I'm sure you're a whiz with the supermarket trolley.' She permitted herself a loud snort packed with scornful scepticism.

‘I was merely about to mention that you might like to add razor blades to that shopping list,' Rafe announced, ignoring her sarcastic interjection. ‘Do you know that dinky little razor of yours is blunt?'

Bubbling with indignation, Tess watched him rub a hand over the intact dark stubble that adorned his square chin.

‘It wasn't…and the reason it's
dinky
is because it wasn't designed to remove a dirty great beard.'

Ignoring the fact the dark growth gave him a dangerous, dissipated but not unattractive air—in fact some women might actually go for that moody menace look in a big way. Some women—the ones lost to all sense of decency—might even wonder what that dark growth would feel like when applied to sensitive areas…a breast, for example…even…?

Two bright spots of guilty colour apeared on the smooth curve of her cheeks. She glared with exaggerated distaste at the shadow on his jawline.

‘I could have told you that if you had bothered to ask before you went poking around in my private things.'

‘You want to watch this possessive streak…it's not attractive. I mention this only to be helpful.'

‘In this mood,' she told him frankly, ‘you're about as helpful as a hole in the head!'

‘You're cranky because you're busy, stressed and ever so slightly hung-over.'

‘And whose fault is that? I don't drink alone…' Which meant, as she rarely had adult company, she didn't drink full stop, which no doubt explained her rapid descent into her inconveniently garrulous state of the previous night…

‘Admirable, I'm sure. There are some things I never do alone either.'

Nothing
, she decided, could be more deceptive than the open, innocent look on his face. She thought it wise to rise above responding to the wicked earthy innuendo.

‘But drinking,' he confessed cheerfully, ‘is not one of them. I'll make us some breakfast, shall I?'

‘I'm not hungry and I don't recall offering you any breakfast.' Her cheeks refused to cool as quickly as she'd like.

‘I assumed that was a mere oversight.'

‘No, a rude and calculated rejection.' Which he seemed to be coping with irritatingly well.

‘You ought to eat.'

He subjected her small person to a critical examination. His expression suggested he hadn't found much to approve of. ‘You're too thin.'

‘Luckily for me beauty is in the eye of the beholder!' Wanted, one short-sighted, sensitive hunk. A tall order by any standards!

‘This could eventually work in your favour. I mean, a lot of guys could be put off by the notion of taking on a readymade family.'

‘I suppose you would know all about being shallow and selfish. Actually, I can do without men like that!' she told him with confident contempt. ‘In fact, I can do without men full stop.'

With a mouth like that he somehow doubted it. Rafe had a sudden strong impulse to test his theory about generously passionate lips. You can't blame it on the booze now, mate!

‘Is that what put your vet off?'

When it came to insensitivity, Rafe was right up there with the all-time greats.

‘For the last time, he wasn't my vet, and, no, actually, it was something
quite
different.' He hadn't believed her when she'd said she
really
didn't want to marry him so she'd had to resort to the truth—he hadn't been able to get away fast enough then.

‘Found out about your snoring, did he…?'

Something flickered in her eyes before her glance slid unobtrusively away from his. A speculative frown tugged gently at the taut, unlined skin across his broad brow.

How would Rafe react if she told him? Embarrassed, pitying…? Taking a deep breath, Tess lifted her chin and, pushing aside the intrusive shaft of self-pity, pinned a stoical expression on her face. Major shock, hold the front page…life isn't fair! She'd had plenty of time to get used to the idea, but sometimes, as now, it still caught her on the raw.

‘I don't snore.'

One dark brow shot up. ‘Want to bet?' he drawled. From where he was sitting he opened the fridge door with the toe of his shoe. ‘Well, what do you know?' he drawled, turning a cheerful face to Ben. ‘Bacon and, unless my eyes deceive me, eggs too. Free range, I hope…' He turned to Ben. ‘Tess must have forgotten.'

‘The only thing I'd forgotten,' she announced, gaining very little satisfaction from viciously slamming a cupboard door, ‘is how infuriating and thick-skinned you are!'

‘But you miss me when I'm not around…right…?'

She didn't pause to think about the possible consequences of replying honestly. ‘Weird as it might seem,' she agreed tartly, ‘I do.'

Rafe turned to look at her in time to see a shocked expression appear on her face. He found he could readily identify with the emotion.

‘Which just goes to show how starved for adult company I must be.' Her attempt at making a joke of it didn't quite come off. I always did have lousy timing, she reflected grimly…

‘I miss you too, Tess.' Wary green eyes clashed and locked with thoughtful brown.

‘You miss someone to boss around,' she accused gruffly when the silence started to get hard to ignore.

‘There aren't many people in the world you can be yourself with, warts and all.'

‘You mean you've got a licence to be unconscionably rude and generally awful with me!'

‘Here's to bad manners!' Rafe agreed, appropriating Ben's juice beaker to toast her with.

Tess tried to look severe, she tried not to smile back, but his good humour was contagious.

Rafe and Ben were halfway through the meal she'd grudgingly prepared—Rafe had even gone so far as to feed Ben several spoonfuls of his mushed-up version—when Tess saw the big shiny car draw up. ‘Oh, no!' she wailed, throwing her hands up. ‘They're here! It's too early.' Frankly, ten years hence would still be too early. ‘What'll I do…?'

Rafe watched her agitated routine with a bland expression and a quizzically raised brow. ‘Slam the door in their faces…?'

‘If you can't say something constructive,' she hissed, rounding on him, ‘don't say anything! The place looks a mess.'

Rafe didn't see the relevance of this inaccurate comment, but he knew women seemed to set great store by a dust-free environment. ‘It doesn't, but you do,' he announced with casual brutality.

Tess caught her breath. There was such a thing as stretching friendship too far and Rafe was getting perilously close!

‘Here, let me.' She eyed him suspiciously as he levered his rangy athletic frame up from the chair. ‘For starters, you can take this thing off.' Tess was startled into immobility as he calmly began to unbutton her long baggy cardigan. He slid it off her shoulders with a flourish.

He did it very slickly, but then he had probably had a lot of experience removing items of female clothing…Perhaps she should have forced herself to eat breakfast; she did feel distinctly queasy.

‘Well, what did you expect?' she snapped tartly as he continued to look with obvious discontent at the simple slit-necked black tee shirt she wore underneath. She failed completely to appreciate how well it displayed her taut, firm figure and neat waist. ‘Besides, I fail to see what difference the way I look makes to anything.'

‘Don't be naive, Tess.' Rafe lifted a distracted hand and, with a brooding expression, rubbed it back and forth over his unshaven chin. ‘Would you have turned up in your scruffy jeans for a big meeting when you were working in the City? No, you wanted to make the right impression and feel in control. Now is no different. I'm not saying clothes maketh the woman, but I am saying—and so will you, if you're strictly honest—that the right outfit doesn't do any harm. People like Chloe judge folk by the way they dress, the car they drive…'

‘I don't drive any more.'

‘I haven't forgotten that.'

Maybe his thoughtful expression wasn't significant. Maybe it was her guilty conscience making her see things that weren't there.

‘If you look good you'll be sending a subliminal message to Chloe.'

‘Saying what?'

‘I'm in control…you can't push me around.'

‘I can't make breakfast wearing stilettos and a sharp suit. I dress like every other mum…' she explained obstinately.

Rafe saw the precise moment when the meaning of what she'd said hit her. For a split second the depth of her anguish was there for him to see. He'd like to throttle Chloe and her celebrity boyfriend!

Biting viciously down on her trembling lower lip, Tess steeled herself to meet the pity in his eyes. ‘Only, of course, I'm not.' She spoke with quiet composure.

‘Tess…' Frustration was building steadily inside him. Why the hell didn't she let him hug her instead of sprouting as many prickles as a porcupine?

Tess shook her head in silent rejection of his empathy. If he was nice to her now she'd make a total fool of herself.

‘Anyhow, this conversation is academic—it's too late now for a make-over,' she babbled nervously. ‘You can't make a silk purse out of…leave my hair alone!' she cried, batting away his intrusive hand.

His objective achieved, Rafe thrust the scrunchy thing he'd slid from her thick hair into his pocket, and gave her an unrepentant grin. ‘Good,' he said, regarding his handiwork. ‘But this…' with his other hand he began to tease out the ruthlessly restrained locks into a mass of gleaming soft waves ‘…is better…much better.'

‘Now look what you've done!' Tess fumed, belatedly pulling away. She couldn't understand why she'd just stood there and let him. It wasn't as if she'd
enjoyed
the soft touch of his fingertips against her scalp. The drugged lethargy that had stolen over her couldn't possibly be classified along with pleasure.

‘I am.'
There was unnecessary force in his voice. There was also a weird expression on his face—it was the sort of expression that made Tess's heart thud and her throat close up.

‘It's all mussed up.' She lifted a fretful hand to her head.

‘I must look messy.'

‘Want to muss mine?' he offered, raising a hand to his glossy raven head.

Hot desire smothered her like a heavy blanket. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think—she could imagine, though. Her fingertips actually tingled as she imagined sinking them deep into that luscious dark mass to trace the outline of his skull.

Emerald eyes wide and shocked, she shook her head dumbly.

Rafe shrugged. ‘Fair enough. Don't forget I offered, though.'

‘I won't.'

‘I think you should definitely aim for sexy, not neat.' His eyes were on the glossy waving chestnut strands that fell just below her shoulders. ‘Competition will distract Chloe.'

That was uncalled for and a little bit cruel. ‘Very funny!' she snapped. The day she could offer Chloe competition was never likely to dawn and they both knew it.

‘If Chloe went out without her make-up and designer clothes nobody would give her a second glance.'

It occurred to Tess as he took hold of her chin and tilted her face first one way and then the other, subjecting her clear-cut profile to a comprehensive appraisal, that she really ought to complain about this sort of high-handed treatment.

‘You've got the most incredible skin.' He made it sound like an accusation. ‘All over,' he added hoarsely.

Tess stiffened and tugged her chin free. ‘How would you know?' Galloping alarm deepened the green of her eyes by several shades.

Rafe shrugged. ‘I did put you to bed, and you weren't wearing anything under that…' he searched for an accurate description of her nightwear ‘…thing.'

‘What a complete sleaze you are!' She choked, going hot and sweaty all over.

‘My hand quite unintentionally—yes,
unintentionally
,' he repeated firmly in response to her hoarse derisive hoot,

‘came into contact with your behind—
so hang me
! I could have dropped you—would you have preferred that? I'll remember the next time.'