Hiring Cupid (20 page)

Just like her whole life.

"It's okay baby,” she whispered. “I love you.” Carly caressed her stomach. “Your daddy will love you. He just doesn't love me, that's all."

Carly took the lift to the penthouse. The rioting butterflies in her stomach were definitely not because she hadn't eaten all day. Her nerves were as taut as a high wire, any slack and she'd probably crumple to the floor.

The lift came to a halt with a soft hiss.

"Here we go. Shoulders back,” she muttered as she stepped into the lobby. Swiping her key tag in the locking system she opened the door.

He's a man, that's all. Just a man.

He's your husband
.

Marco's sharp deriding tone attacked her as soon as she entered. “So you decided to come home. Work all done is it?"

"There's always work to be done."

"
Si
,” Marco shrugged and gulped the last of his brandy. “Work is
so
important."

Carly tried to brush past him, but his hand snaked around her wrist. He held her fast and she bit back a cry as a wave of heat radiated from his firm grasp and thundered through her veins. “Work is my life,” she reiterated.

"And our baby is not?"

"Of course it's important."

"But not the marriage."

"Marriage! This isn't a marriage, Marco. Your threat determined that. This is a deal to make a family for our child. You do your thing, and I'll do mine."

"Which is?"

"My business. I've not worked for years to let it slide away. I intend to keep working. I won't let you take from me all I've worked for."

"And you intend to tag the baby along with you?"

Her shoulders sagged and she fought off a rush of exhaustion. “I'm tired Marco, I want to go to bed."

His hold on her dropped away. “Alone I take it."

"We had a deal."

"We did. A marriage with two bedrooms."

"I didn't force this marriage."

"So you keep reminding me. But you came nevertheless."

"I came because you blackmailed me.” Carly clamped her lips firmly closed. She wasn't about to tell him her other reasons. Why put herself through that much hurt?

Marco stepped away and picked up a magnificent bouquet of roses from a side table. Dozens of them in every color and shade imaginable. “These are for you."

Tentatively, Carly took them from him, mindful her fingers didn't touch his. At all costs she had to keep away from him—touching him had always been her downfall. She bent and inhaled their heady fragrance. “They're beautiful."

"
Si
.” His voice was thick and full of velvety promise and stirred an instant nervousness, amplified as her gaze locked with his.

"Thank you."

"Wait, there's more,” he chuckled, handing her a gold wrapped box.

"You sound like the man from television, hawking his wares."

"That's good."

"What is?"

"You're smiling. A wedding day no matter what the circumstances should at least see a smile on the bride's face, hmm?"

Carly's fingers trembled as she undid the gold and silver wrapping paper. “Chocolates.” Her stomach rumbled at the sight of food, reminding her she hadn't eaten for hours.

No good for a baby.

Awash with guilt, she tucked the box under one arm and carried the flowers in the other. “Thanks Marco. It's a nice gesture."

"Nice. I seem to have heard that word from you before."

The corners of her lips twitched. “I presume the champagne is for you,” she said pointing to the large bottle of bubbly still on the table.

Marco glanced at the bottle and back at her. “
Si
. No alcohol for you or baby,” he said sternly.

"You've been reading up on daddy stuff,” she laughed.

Color fused his cheeks and she realized she'd hit the jackpot. It took her by surprise.

"I have something I wish to ask you."

"Can't it wait, Marco? I'm beat."

"No, it can't. I want a..."

Carly's heartbeat stopped. “A divorce?"

All color drained from Marco's face. “Never. I will not have my child tossed from parent to parent. No, Carly, not divorce, but we cannot live as two people who pass in the night, with never a civil word."

Carly watched the play of emotions flicker across her husband's face. Suspicion was powerful and she steadied herself for the onslaught of disaster. Married to a man who didn't love her, a man she ached to touch and couldn't allow herself to, was more than she could bear. And the future, knowing he would find release with other women, even if discreetly, was too overwhelming to consider.

"What do you have in mind?” she asked, but really wasn't courageous enough to want to know the answer.

"I want a truce."

Was that all? Carly's relief was absolute and she sagged against the door. “All right,” she agreed and turned to escape to her room, to shut out the pure physical attraction Marco's presence caused—lest she cave in.

"Before you go,” he cautioned and she halted. Her eyes shuttered for a moment. “This is for you.” Marco held out a large white envelope. She looked questioningly at it then at him, but his eyes were hooded, veiling any expression.

She took it.

"Open it,” he encouraged.

Her heart thudded in her chest and her throat tightened as she tore it open. She pulled out a cream and gold folder.

"A contract for the interior design of all the new CV Hotels,” he informed her

Carly's legs buckled beneath her. “Do you think I married you to get the contract?"

"Didn't you?” he questioned, his tone hard edged.

Hadn't she?

No! No! No!

She held the contract to her chest. “Why, Marco?"

"You're the best designer around. I want the best. I wanted you."

She nodded. He thought her the best. Her spirits soared.

For a few drawn out minutes his words hung thickly between them, the air crackling with tension.

"The best,” she whispered.

"
Si
."

But it was the words he left unsaid which disturbed her. Wanted. He said
wanted—
past tense. Tears pricked her eyes and she felt a thick cord choking her throat, cutting off all air. Perhaps Marco
had
wanted her once, but now his words intimated that was in the past.

He'd screwed up—again. Big time. Marco's muttered curses rent the air as he paced his home office.

It was the tears that got to him. Soft, silent tears that slid down her beautiful face.

Carly had thought she'd hidden them from him. But no—he'd seen them, and it tore at his gut—and his heart. Yes he would admit it. She'd gotten to him, and in more ways than one.

That she obviously thought him an ogre, forcing her into marriage, was of little consequence.

He could handle being hated.

But being loved would be infinitely better!

No!

Marco had tried to tell himself it was for the baby's sake, but even if he was only slightly honest with himself, that wasn't the whole truth. Not by a long shot.

But the truth scared the hell out of him, made him react. And reaction made Carly cry.

Damn it.

He wasn't an ogre, wasn't some mean-spirited bastard bludgeoning others to do his bidding.

Aren't you?

Marco tempered that question and refused to answer it, though acknowledged his actions were a prime rendition of cave man tactics.

He knew Carly must be going through hell with all the emotional and hormonal changes, realizing she was pregnant, wondering about her future.

Wasn't that where he came in?

The fact was, somewhere deep down inside him, a primal instinct to protect had reared itself, taking him totally and utterly by surprise. It shocked him. It terrified him.

Marco eyed the papers that littered his desk. Right now, work was an anathema to him, unable to concentrate because of the visions replaying in his brain.

Carly in paradise.

Carly in his arms.

Carly kissing him as his wife.

She had looked so beautiful as she walked up the aisle to him, but it hadn't been until that moment as he released a breath all pent up and expectant, that he had realized his fear. Would she turn up?

But she had, and now they were married. For better, or worse.

"Tell me I don't look like a beached whale,” Carly wailed as she tried on a maternity dress two months later.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're blooming,” Daphne chirped in.

"Fat, frumpy, and..."

"No. Never say that. Enjoy your baby, even before it comes. Some people never get the chance at all."

Carly slapped her lips closed. “True. I shouldn't be so careless with my words. I'm lucky,” she admitted. And she was. She felt so very lucky. “I admit it was a shock at first, but after reality set in, I really am loving every moment."

Liar.

"Is Marco taking care of you?"

Carly's eyes lowered. She didn't want to tell the truth. “Oh he's fine.” Well, as far as she knew he was.

"You don't sound so sure.” Daphne looked directly at her and Carly felt the older woman's intuitive gaze. Her heart plummeted. So far they'd managed to fool everyone. Their marriage had been hailed the wedding of the year. What a joke!

"Having a baby is new for both of us. It takes time to get used to, I suppose...” Carly's excuse trailed off.

She spied the small pile of color samples in the bag next to her handbag and brightened. “The plans are almost ready for the hotel at the Viaduct,” she said changing the subject.

Daphne's brows rose. “You are a wonderful woman Carly Valente and clever to boot. Marco did right choosing you."

"Well my designs seem to fit the style the hotel is wishing to project."

A spirited chuckle burst from Daphne. “On no dear, I don't mean the design work, although it's true, you are a master, or should that be mistress, in that field. No, what I meant was Marco did right to fall in love with you. How could he not?"

Not!

Okay, so they'd called a truce, which she supposed was going well. Marco spent very little time in her presence and when he did, it was usually to do with work. Night after night she cried herself to sleep, the old sense of aloneness all enveloping, crushing her spirit.

She should be happy.

Nothing had changed.

Later that day, shopping bags from some of the best stores in town littered her bed. Carly eyed them with contempt. Okay, so they were expensive, but money and fancy clothes weren't making her happy.

Retreating to the bathroom she started the bath. She wanted some decadence time, some pampering. Reaching for a bottle of pearly rose bath oil, she poured a generous amount into the bath and ensured the water was lukewarm. It may have been an old wives’ tale about bath water being too hot for pregnancy, but Carly wasn't about to take any chances.

With the fragrant aroma wafting up from the water, soothing her frazzled nerves, she eased into the bath and let out a heavy sigh as its warmth succored her tired and aching body. Her hand trailed over her stomach. It was a very definite bump now and her breasts were fuller. Eyelids drifting closed she began to relax and tried to forget everything, mindless to every sound around her. Time for now at least, meant nothing.

"What?” Her eyes shot open and her hand dropped to her stomach. There it was again. A dig in her stomach, soft and fluttery, just like a tickle. She stared down in awe at her little bulge. Again, harder. “Oh my!” she all but shouted. Her baby had moved. A broad smile lit her face and she felt the joyous tingle of tears cascade down her cheeks.

"What's going on? Are you okay?” Marco burst into the bathroom, giving Carly such a fright she slipped and slithered beneath the bubbles. A firm hand grasped her shoulder yanking her upwards and she came up spluttering, spitting out soapy water.

"What did you do that for?” she accused.

"You were drowning. Why the hell didn't you wait until I got home if you wanted to have a bath?"

"Why should I?"

"Because ... Damn it, Carly, what are you trying to do, drown the baby and yourself?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're over-reacting. The baby kicked. That's all."

"Kicked?"

"Yes. It's what babies do. You barging in here frightened the life out of me and I slipped under the water. If you want to get rid of me that much, drowning would...” Carly stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened and focused on one spot. She couldn't drag her gaze away as a practically bare-chested Marco knelt beside the bath, his broad, muscled chest revealed by the gap in his unbuttoned shirt now covered in tiny glistening bubbles. Carly slapped a soapy hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a fit of giggles. “Oh, Marco. You look so pretty. Bubbles suit you. They soften the fierce exterior."

"I'll give you bubbles,” he threatened with mock severity but his eyes crinkled at the corners, mouth twitching with humor.

Carly licked her lips, suddenly aware of the heat burning between them. “Dare you."

"Oh,
cara mia
, I dare.” And he reached for the sponge and soap and began a slow and rhythmic circle across her slick and very sensitive skin. It was erotic in the extreme and her nipples peaked under the surface of the still steamy water.

"Lean forward a little,” he instructed. She did as she was told. “Very nice. A wife who is obedient."

Carly bit a retort back, not wanting to destroy the moment. Instead, she concentrated on his touch, closing her eyes as he trailed the sponge down her back. But when the tips of his fingers scraped with delicious delight over her sensitive skin, she felt as if she was burning alive, her body strumming with intensity. Every nerve cell tingled as she succumbed to his ministrations.

Then he kissed her, a slow, thoughtful kiss, tentative and teasing, sending shivers of desire racing down her spine.

Carly thought she'd died and gone to heaven and let out a joyous sigh. Her lips parted a fraction. It was the invitation Marco needed and his tongue began to trace the soft edges of her mouth, dancing with hers, hungrily seeking her response.

Time stood still, had no meaning. But when she shivered as the bath water cooled, Marco gently lifted her out, water streaming in a cascade around them, puddling on the floor. She ignored it all. She only had eyes for her husband. For Marco.