Million Dollar Marriage (9 page)

Lowering his head, Holden pressed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Well,
you were right, Dad. I turned out just like you. The same kind of selfish, callous
son of a gun. Poison to a decent woman.”

He’d been so determined not to ruin Lucy’s life, not to cause her the kind of pain
his father had caused his mother. But it looked as though he’d already done all
of that, a long time ago. Took her virginity and then forgot about it.

And the worst part was, the poor thing thought she still wanted him. Or maybe that
was just the wine. Either way, he’d rejected her again tonight, hurt her again tonight.
And he hadn’t meant to do that.

He glanced up toward the door. Okay, she’d been alone long enough. She shouldn’t be
wandering around outside in the dark in her condition anyway. He didn’t know what
the hell he was going to say when he caught up to her, but he guessed he’d better
think of something fast.

The wind had picked up outside. And it was dark, the sky thick with a blanket of clouds
that blotted out the stars, the moon. No light danced on the water tonight. He supposed
it was fitting.

Lucy sat on the dock. He could just make out the shape of her there, on the edge,
her feet hanging over, dangling in the water maybe. When he got closer, he saw her
socks balled up beside her. Her jeans were rolled up.

“I didn’t come out here so you’d have to come chasing after me,” she said, not turning
around. The wind whispered harder, its breath riffling her hair.

“I’m sorry, Lucy.” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

“So am I.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He moved forward, heeled off his shoes,
and sat down beside her.

“Yes, I do. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that for something that happened
so long ago.” She looked sideways at him, and he thought she’d been
crying, but it was hard to be sure in the darkness. “I didn’t plan to ever tell you.
But I guess I’ve been holding it in for so long it just…had to come out.”

“I wish you had told me then.”

“What good would that have done?”

Holden shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know.” A deep sigh worked out of him, and he knew
what he had to do. “Look, I’ll let you out of our bargain. We don’t have to go on
with this—”

“No.” She said it quickly, her voice louder than before. Then, more softly, “No, Holden.
I intend to stick to the deal we made.”

Slowly he shook his head. “But this
isn’t
the deal we made. Lucy, I wanted a business arrangement. No emotions involved. This
is—this was—a mistake.”

She looked at him for a long time, though he doubted she could see him very clearly.
“What are you so afraid of, Holden? It’s not as if I can force you to start to have
feelings for me. No one’s going to make you care.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” He said it too quickly, without thinking first. Saw
her flinch. “That didn’t come out right.”

“No, I think it came out just right. There’s no way in hell you will ever feel a thing
for me, so that’s not your concern.”

“Lucy—”

“What is, then? Are you afraid I’ll start to care about you? Use some kind of guilt
trip to make you stay with me beyond the limits of our agreement?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“No,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t.”

He swallowed hard, and his throat was bone dry.
He felt as if he were walking blind through a minefield. “I just don’t want to end
up hurting you, Lucy. That’s all. I’ve watched my mother all my life, loving a man
who was incapable of loving her back the way she deserved to be loved. And I made
a vow a long time ago that I’d never put any woman through that.”

She turned her head and stared out at the black water. The wind blew stronger now,
and her hair flew around her. “You’re awfully full of yourself, Holden Fortune. Let
me just reassure you, I am not in love with you. I am not going to fall in love with
you. I’m sorry you got the wrong impression in there, but the only thing I was suggesting
was…” She didn’t finish.

“Sex,” he said. “And you can’t even say it. Because you’re not the kind of woman who
would have casual, meaningless sex, Lucy, and we both know it.”

“You don’t know anything about me at all,” she said. “Yes, I wanted sex. I’m a grown
woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Nice girls have needs, too, you know.
They feel desire. I’m not a porcelain doll, Holden, and I’m not frigid. Just because
I’m not one of your bimbos of the month, doesn’t mean I’m not a real woman.”

“I know that.”

She nodded, still not looking him in the eye. “I am not willing to go without having
sex for a year. And you’re not capable of it. We can engage in extramarital affairs
and cause yet another Fortune family scandal…or we can do the sensible thing and sleep
together.”

“That all sounds very clinical and logical to you, I’ll bet,” he said slowly. Inside
he was burning. With the desire to take her up on her offer and show her
just how explosive it would be between them—and with a newborn fury at her suggestion
that she would look elsewhere for sexual satisfaction. “I’ll tell you what, Doc. We
are not going to engage in any extramarital affairs. If I can stay faithful, then
you can sure as hell do the same. And if it gets to be too frustrating, I suggest
a little manual labor.”

She sucked in a sharp little gasp, looking up quickly.

“Oh, yeah, I can see how open-minded you are about sex. You’re shocked by the very
suggestion, aren’t you?”

She said nothing, just glared at him.

“That’s the deal. If you can’t live with it, then we’ll get this thing annulled tomorrow
morning. If you can, then you’ll get your money. But keep it clear in your mind, Lucy,
I’m paying for a business arrangement, not for sex.”

“You’re a bastard, Holden.”

“That’s right. That’s the point. Now that I’ve reminded you of it, this ought to be
a little easier.” He got to his feet. The wind whipped at his shirt, and he thought
he heard thunder rumble in the distance. “Come on inside now. It’s going to storm.”

“I’ll come inside when I’m damned good and ready.”

“You’ll come inside now. You’re drunk, it’s dark, and you’re sitting on the edge of
a lake with a hundred-foot drop-off.” And besides that, he thought, he couldn’t pull
off this act much longer. He wanted her. He cared for her, and he damn well didn’t
want to admit to either of those things.

“I want to stay out here.”

“Damn.” He bent down, put his hands underneath her arms, and pulled her to her feet.
She didn’t fight, didn’t pull away. Just went stiff and looked murderous. “Please
come inside,” he said.

Lightning flashed and he saw her tears. Realized that must be why she didn’t want
to come in, she didn’t want him to see that she’d been crying. “Lucy—”

Another flash, an earsplitting crack, and then a roar as a tree crashed to the ground
a few yards away. Lucy jumped in surprise, losing her balance, and even as Holden
saw what was happening, he couldn’t stop it. The sky split open, rain pummeled the
earth, and Lucy splashed into the cold, black water.

T
he water seemed to close in around her, and it was so unexpected that she swallowed
some, choked, and swallowed some more, as she flailed her arms and kicked her legs,
striving for the surface.

Then Holden was there. She felt his strong arms around her, pulling her upward. She
broke surface, gasping, choking, water running over her face, her hair in her eyes.
But his hands pushed it away, palms smooth on her wet skin.

“Are you okay?” He shouted the question, making her aware of the now roaring wind,
the pounding rain, the crashing thunder growing louder all the time. Blinking her
eyes open, she was immediately blinded by strobelike flashes of lightning, and Holden’s
face seemed to flicker before her.

Then he was pulling her, and she could only assume they were heading toward the dock.
No, that was wrong, the shore itself. No sooner did her feet touch the bottom in the
shallower waters than she felt herself lifted off them. And Holden carried her the
rest of the way, up out of the water, sloshing through it to the shore beyond. Once
on dry land, he ran, still carrying her. Only seconds seemed to pass before he was
kicking the door closed behind him, and carrying her to the sofa, lowering her onto
it. He pulled his arms from
beneath her, but she closed hers around him and clung, shivering.

“All right,” he said softly. “All right, it’s okay.” His arms came back around her,
and he held her close for a long moment. “You’re okay, now, all right? Hmm?”

Nodding hard against his shoulder, she said, “I’m f-freezing.”

“I know. Hold on, okay?”

Again she nodded, and this time when he pulled away, she let him go. She hugged herself,
shaking, watching Holden in the firelight. He didn’t walk. He ran, first to the fireplace
to jam several more chunks of wood into the flames, then up the stairs. She couldn’t
stop shivering. The fire’s warmth barely seemed to be touching her here. Getting off
the sofa, she moved closer to the fireplace, and sank to the floor right in front
of it, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Only moments later Holden was back again, his arms loaded down. He set the stack of
towels and things down on the floor, and knelt beside her. “Loosen up your arms for
me,” he said, and when she did, he peeled her dripping wet T-shirt off over her head.

Wearing no bra, she automatically crossed her arms in front of her chest. But Holden
only paused for a second, his gaze lingering on her breasts for an instant before
he jerked it away as if by force, and reached for a towel. Gently, he rubbed her down.
Her back, her arms. Her shoulders and neck. Her belly. Then he draped the towel around
her, and snatched up another
to rub at her wet hair. When he finished, he said, “Stand up, let’s get you out of
those jeans.”

Still shaking with cold, she let him help her to her feet, and stood there, amazed
and mesmerized as he undid her jeans and shoved the wet denim down over her hips,
panties and all. As he pushed the jeans down, he bent, as well, and when he knelt
at her feet, his eyes were on her body. His gaze sliding up and down her, until he
closed his eyes tight.

“Hold on to my shoulders and pull your feet out,” he instructed in a voice that seemed
too choked to speak above a harsh whisper.

She braced her hands on Holden’s shoulders and pulled first one foot, then the other,
free of the wet, clinging denim. He reached for another towel, his eyes open again,
and so attentive that she almost burned with embarrassment. There was no part of her
that was hidden to those eyes as he began running the towel up and down her legs.
Her thighs.

She wasn’t shivering anymore. His hands went still, and Lucy looked down at him, saw
the raw hunger dancing with the firelight in his eyes.

“Holden…”

“Here.” He pressed the towel into her hand and got to his feet. Still, his gaze roamed
her flesh until he forcibly turned his back to her. He picked up a plush terry robe
from the stack of things he’d carried down. “Put this on. Wrap up in a blanket, and
sit by the fire until you’re warm.”

She took the robe from him. “Thank you.”

“De nada,”
he muttered. “I’m, uh, gonna go get changed myself.”

“All right.”

He waited a moment, a long, tense moment, that made her wonder if he were battling
the urge to turn around again and strip the towel off her. She wasn’t sure if she
hoped he would or feared he would. But then he snatched up the remaining pile of towels,
and the second robe she saw resting atop them, and headed into the nearest bathroom.

Holden closed the bathroom door behind him, and stood in the darkness, jaw tight,
fists clenched at his sides. He was dripping wet, freezing cold, and burning up inside
all at once, and the physical chaos of all of it was only a dim reflection of what
was going on in his mind.

“St. Francis of Assisi couldn’t have survived this kind of temptation,” he muttered
to himself in the darkness. And immediately, he felt like a fool. So he desired her.
So what? He’d desired a great number of women. He’d had most of them.

That was all this was, then, he decided. He wanted her, and he’d decided he couldn’t
have her, and that was the reason the wanting seemed to be growing larger by the second.
That was the reason that it was taking over his mind and his soul and his body. That
was the only reason. He’d deemed her forbidden fruit, and that made her seem twice
as sweet.

God, she seemed sweet. When he stripped her clothes away…when he knelt in front of
her and just looked his fill…. Her skin, bronze and satin-smooth, gleaming with water
and firelight. Her breasts, round and high. Proud, dark centers and small rigid nipples.
Her belly, so flat and tight, and the darkness of her navel like a shadow of sin,
calling to him. The curls
between her legs were raven, gleaming, soft. Her thighs were—

“Enough!”

Holden braced his hands against the wall, let his head hang down between his arms.
“Enough,” he whispered. “Just stop thinking about her. Just stop.”

Impossible. Man, his father must be having a hell of a laugh at him now. A hell of
a laugh. The old bastard…it was as if he’d been determined to make sure Holden was
destined to turn out just like him. Oh, yeah, the rest of the family thought this
final act of Cameron’s—the changing of his will—had been to protect Holden from becoming
like his father. But in fact, it had only forced him to do just that. He’d married
a good woman. And dammit, he was going to ruin her life.

No. No, he wouldn’t. He would not make Lucy’s life the hell his mother’s had been.
He refused.

And that was that.

Slowly, he stood straight again, and began peeling off his freezing, wet clothes.
He took his time changing. A long, hot shower to chase the chill out of his bones
would have been nice. He might have wished for a cold one, but if that dip in the
frigid lake hadn’t helped dampen his desire for his
wife
then a cold shower wasn’t going to help, either. Anyway, it didn’t matter because
he didn’t dare leave her alone for that long. So he settled for toweling himself dry,
and donning the warm robe he’d brought with him, all in utter darkness, because he
hadn’t bothered to bring a lamp in here. Didn’t matter, he told himself. He may be
losing his mind, but he still knew where everything was.

Lucy had misunderstood everything he’d said to her, before all hell broke loose outside.
She thought he didn’t want her, but he did. She thought he was so immune to her that
there was no risk whatsoever of his coming to care anything about her. But he already
cared. That was why he was so determined not to let her do the same. Not to hurt her.
And he’d only blown up at her the way he had in some stupid, primitive, knee-jerk
reaction to her threat—and yes, it had been precisely that—that she would find what
she needed elsewhere.

Still, maybe it was best she’d interpreted his clumsy words the way she had. Let her
think him cold and callous, utterly incapable of feeling anything real for anyone
except himself. Let her believe it. Because as long as she did, she’d be safe. Her
heart would be safe. And she wouldn’t let him break it.

That thought firm in his mind, he ventured back into the main room. The rain still
pounded on the roof, smacked against the windowpanes. Thunder still sounded like some
overzealous drummer in a heavy metal band. Lightning still flickered, turning the
entire cabin into a faulty neon sign.

Lucy was curled up on her side, sleeping near the fireplace. A heavy blanket wrapped
tight around her, her knees drawn up, head pillowed by her hands. The firelight danced
over her, and the lightning, when it flashed, made her glow like an angel. His temptation,
right?

Holden wandered to the door, checked the lock, glanced outside, but couldn’t make
a good guess at the damage in the flickering light. It would have to wait until morning.
He turned back again, walked slowly
over to where Lucy lay on the floor. He didn’t suppose he ought to leave her there
all night. He should scoop her up, carry her up the stairs, and tuck her into her
bed.

Or maybe he could just smash his head against the cobblestone hearth a few times.
Either one would be equally painful.

With a sigh, he bent and gathered her into his arms, his hands skimming across warm
flesh. As soon as he straightened, her face turned toward the crook of his neck. Her
lips nuzzled him there, and her arms linked around him. The faster he got her tucked
in and got away from her, the better, he decided, and he turned to start toward the
stairs. But when he did, the blanket fell away. And there was nothing else. She hadn’t
donned the robe as he’d told her to. She’d just burrowed under the covers and fallen
asleep.

And now she was naked in his arms. Firelight painted her skin. The thunder rumbled
and at first he thought the sound had come from within him. Her head came up off his
shoulder and she looked up into his eyes; hers dark and gleaming in the fireglow.
Flashing with the lightning. Then she pressed her mouth to his, and this time the
rumble did come from him. A deep groan of anguished need that he couldn’t contain.

He kissed her. He kissed her mouth, and when it parted, he went inside, pushing his
tongue between her lips and rubbing hers with it. She tasted good. Warm, sweet, eager.
He slid his mouth along her jaw, tasting her skin, and then her throat, her neck,
flicking his tongue as he went. She made a soft sound, part sigh, part moan. He lifted
her higher in his arms so that her
back arched toward him and her head fell backward. Her breasts were presented to him,
an offering he could not refuse. He bent his head to them, and then he held her to
him as he caught a nipple in his mouth and began to suck at it. Lucy’s hands dove
into his hair, and she pulled his head closer, harder against her, straining to press
herself into his hungry mouth.

“Please, Holden…” she whispered.

He closed his teeth lightly on her nipple, and when she responded with a shivering
whimper, he bit harder, tugging, pinching it between his teeth, and then releasing
her again to lick and nurse the sting away. He pulled his arm from beneath her legs,
lowering her feet to the floor, his mouth still clamped to her breast, his body bending
over hers.

Her hands pushed the robe from his shoulders, then ran over his flesh, kneading him,
rubbing him, holding herself to him. And he was naked, and hard, and wanting her.
He lifted his head from her breast, and straightening, stared hard into her eyes.
“I hope you’re sure this is what you want.”

Her answer was to tighten her arms around his neck and slowly lift her legs until
they were wrapped around his middle. “It’s what we both want,” she whispered, rubbing
herself against him.

Holden’s hands slid lower, cupped her buttocks, lifted her a little, until her position
was just right. And then slowly, he slid himself inside her. His eyes slammed closed,
and his body went rigid with the feel of her wrapped so tight around him. She clung
to him harder as he went deeper, harder still when he drew back. Holden found her
mouth once again, and fed from it as he moved her body up and down upon his.
He felt her muscles clenching in anticipation, tightening more and more as he drove
harder, deeper, pushing her limits, taking her closer. He watched her face in between
kisses. Saw the passion on it as the lightning flashed and the fire leaped. And just
as she cried out his name in a hoarse, tortured voice, he, too, reached his climax
and spilled himself into her as his head spun and his body sang.

Spent, he fell to his knees, with Lucy still twined around him. She didn’t seem to
want to let go. Her face was buried on his chest, and he thought he felt dampness
there. God, was she crying?

“Lucy?”

A shuddery sigh. She eased up her grip, pulled away slightly, and looked up into his
eyes. “I…didn’t realize it was…supposed to be…”

Holden lifted a hand, fingered a strand of her hair. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s all right.” She lowered her chin, lifted it again. “So long as you don’t forget
about it by morning.”

“I won’t forget about it in a hundred years.”

She offered a shaky smile. “You see, now, don’t you? You were worrying for nothing.
We had sex. I feel much better now.” She averted her eyes. “And I didn’t do anything
foolish like falling head over heels in love with you in the process.”

Holden watched as she eased away, pulling her fallen blanket with her, and curling
once more into her little nest on the floor near the fire, her back to him.

And he thought he heard a little voice in his head whispering,
That makes one of us.

Yeah, right. That had to be the most ridiculous thought he’d ever had.

Lucy woke up on the sofa, not on the floor where she’d gone to sleep, and she figured
she had Holden to thank for that. He probably hadn’t dared risk carrying her up to
her own bed. She might have stirred awake and made him—