Chapter 16
Dave ran along the shoreline, oblivious to the protestation of overused muscles. He was determined to beat this obsession with kissing Lea. He was the one who had made the rules—why was he finding it so damn hard to stick to them? Her mouth was a drug he had suddenly developed a hunger for, and it was taking every bit of willpower he possessed to resist. What was it about her that made him so tempted to step over every boundary he had laid down?
But then a thought strayed into his mind: maybe he shouldn’t resist. Maybe he could tweak the rules and see what happened. The thought sat down like an uninvited guest, put its feet up, and got comfortable, but Dave frogmarched it out of his head. He knew what would happen, and he had to avoid it at all costs. He increased his pace along the sand, ignoring the burning sensations in his legs. Ignoring the heaving of his chest as he dragged in each gulping breath.
He hadn’t forgiven himself for his last relationship disaster.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—go there again.
Scotland
Only a few days after that kiss, Dave snatched up a towel and strode out of the wet room where he had cooled his hot blood under a long, cold shower. He snatched up a towel. It was four in the morning, and he had barely slept. He had tossed and turned, as overheated and hungry for a woman as a sex-starved teenage boy. He was not amused by that reality, and he was bewildered and frustrated by the sexual intensity Lea had fired in him.
With a brooding frown stamped on his lean, strong features, he logged onto his notebook PC and brought up the photo of his one-year-only bride. In the flesh, her face was softer and rounder, her eyes brighter, and her smile was full of appeal. How were those differences possible? Obviously, it was an old photo, taken when she was thinner, and it wasn’t a flattering representation.
Desire, however, did not blind Dave to more obvious facts. In every way, he reflected grimly, Lea had proved to be much more of an unknown quantity than he’d expected. She had demonstrated quirky autonomous traits that made him distinctly uneasy. He had thought the marriage plan was pure perfection, with every detail settled in advance of the ceremony and the margin for error reduced to almost nothing. He had believed she was a safe choice. But when he entered into his game plan, he saw dangerous ripples spreading as though a large boulder had suddenly been pitched into still water. Gut instinct now warned him that Lea was a bad bet, more likely to give him trouble than a smooth and successful conclusion. But he couldn't get away from her. She was like a fire he couldn't stay away from.
He should bail out now, Dave acknowledged grittily. Unfortunately, he found her hugely attractive, and that advantage would be almost impossible to find elsewhere. An overlong procession of greedy, cunning lovers had made Dave exceedingly choosy about the women he took to his bed. It was ironic that even though Lea had infuriated him, she had also ignited a stronger level of pure, driven lust in him than he had experienced in over a decade.
Lea had also resurrected his appetite for risk. So what if he was taking a chance on her? He pictured her in her little black dress, her firm breasts rising above the scooped neckline in a tantalisingly voluptuous display as she spun on the dance floor, revealing glimpses of her slender thighs. His body reacted with maddening enthusiasm to the image. He had liked that dress, but it would have shocked her. The outfit had been too revealing for anything other than private consumption. He would have to take her shopping to ensure that she acquired more sedate clothing, while also ensuring that some day soon she would put on that dress especially for him so that he could strip it off and enjoy the delights of the body that lay underneath.
If he was too hot to taste this forbidden fruit, he had to take the risk of marrying her. Such powerful desires demanded and deserved satisfaction. He was willing to sacrifice his freedom and marry to please his sister, but he saw no reason why he shouldn’t make every effort to ensure it was, at least, a pleasurable and entertaining experience.
Lea woke up with a start when her shoulder was roughly shaken. A phone was ringing, and she sat up on the sofa, where she had spent a most uncomfortable night, and looked woozily at it, which was extending her diamond-studded phone.
“I want to take you shopping,” Dave announced without any preliminary greetings. “I’m going to meet someone, then when I’m done, I’ll pick you up at ten.”
And that was that. It was not a request, but an order. As she shared both that opinion and the outing mentioned with her aunt, Lea studied the phone with disfavour, convinced that it was more of a convenient command line for Dave than a gift.
“Of course he’s going to be a bossy husband!” her aunt snapped crossly. “He didn’t make all that lovely cash by acting like a wimp. He’s rich and powerful, and he knows what he wants and when he wants it. He is a famous painter for a reason.”
“I know, and I haven’t got much time. I’d better get dressed.”
Her aunt released a heavy sigh of irritation. “And I can’t trust you to do it on your own.”
Her aunt’s annoyance permeated the atmosphere as she insisted on putting together an outfit for Lea to wear.
“What is really wrong?” Lea pressed anxiously.
“I feel like you’re risking your heart, dear,” Aunt Evelyn confided, shocking Lea with that accusing statement. “A billionaire is taking you shopping, and it should have been real! Your marriage should have been real.”
Lea gave her aggrieved aunt a troubled appraisal. “I will find someone someday; I'm going to marry him. He will love me, and I will love him and have a baby to look forward to. Everything with Dave is fake, and it won’t last,” she reminded her. “I will be fine. Don't worry about me.”
“I hope so, dear. I hope he won't hurt you.”
The bell in her head buzzed. Lea was tense, hurt, and nonplussed at her aunt’s admission. Lea longed to suggest that she take her place, but, of course, it was impossible, and that option was no longer possible. Aunt Evelyn accompanied Lea downstairs. She was lost in her thoughts, acknowledging that it was true, even though Dave was her husband now, but his dead ex still had him. And that she was nothing compared to her. Dave’s ex had always enjoyed the status of being more attractive. She was thinner and always beautifully groomed, and she drew men like bees to a honeypot. What was true now had also been true, more painfully so. Competing with a dead person was as risky as swimming in the murky, dark water.
Lea’s train of thought was derailed with startling abruptness when she first caught sight of Dave ensconced in the back seat of the opulent limousine. He was even bigger, darker, and more gorgeous than she remembered. One glance, and her mouth ran dry, and a flock of butterflies broke loose in her tummy.
“Wife.” Dave scanned her with laser-bright, dark golden eyes that missed nothing. She looked tense and miserable, which could only irritate a man accustomed to female smiles and gushing appreciation. She was dressed in yet another mistake, he noted, watching with unashamedly hypocritical male appreciation while she endeavoured to take a seat in a short, tight skirt and high-heeled boots without showing him her undergarments. But, mood and wardrobe errors aside, she still looked fabulous. He was already trying to pin down exactly what he found so irresistible about her.
Was it those big blue eyes that, according to the light, went from sea-blue to mysterious, deep-forest-green? The delicacy of her bone structure? The exceptionally feminine appeal of her tiny, fragile proportions? Those delightfully unexpected curves?
“Why are we going shopping?” she asked.
“Well, I have parties to go to too; lots of parties... and I believe we should also take the opportunity to extend your wardrobe.”
The prospect of trying on a party dress intimidated Lea, while Dave’s concluding comment simply surprised her. “But why do I need more clothes?”
“Those you wear are too revealing,” Dave informed her bluntly.
Okay, then... the idea of competing with his ex was stupid.
Her face flamed as though he had turned a blowtorch on her, and her fingernails dug crescents into the skin of her palms as she swallowed back a tart response. She could easily have agreed to the point, and it annoyed her that she could not shrug off responsibility for the outfits he had so far seen her in. Her full curves at the breast and hip make fitted tops and short skirts seem much more daring than his ex-ethereal slenderness ever had.
I'm so stupid.
Dave shifted an expressive hand. “You look very sexy, but I want a more upmarket, conservative image for my wife.”
Thirty minutes later, Lea underwent one of the most mortifying experiences of her life as the designer and her assistants endeavoured without success to get a toile—a sort of understudy to a real bridal gown—to fasten on her.
“I think I may have put on a little weight,” Lea said tightly as their combined efforts to cram her into the too-small garment were constricting her lungs.
As that confession was made, the toile went slack again, and her attendants backed off. An uneasy silence fell.
“I’ll take your measurements again, if I may?” the designer asked with commendable brightness.
Red-faced with embarrassment and feeling the size of a heifer, Lea withstood being measured and could not avoid seeing the designer’s mounting anguish as the numbers expanded.
“Don’t worry,” the older woman finally murmured with rigid calm. “The dress will be altered in time for the party.”
Lea guessed that the lack of open lamentation was due to the small fortune that Dave was undoubtedly paying for the gown. But she was mortified by her companions’ astonishment. After all, brides usually get thinner after their weddings.
“That took a long time,” Dave remarked when she rejoined him. He cast aside his copy of The Financial Times with a strong suggestion of relief.
“The dress will have to be altered,” she admitted.
Dave frowned, his black brows pleating in surprise. “You’ve lost weight?”
Biting at her lower lip, Lea said the only thing she felt she could say in the circumstances. “No, I’ve put it on. I’ll have to starve from now on—”
“Not while you’re with me, you are already perfect,” Dave quipped. “I won’t allow you to shrink your assets.”
It was impossible not to notice his downward glance, which paid homage to the swell of her breasts beneath the sweater she wore. In receipt of that all-too-male look of appreciation, Lea went so red she was vaguely surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust. “I like food too much, particularly chocolate,” she heard herself respond inanely while she strove valiantly to ignore the sexual spark in the atmosphere.
It was a novelty for Dave to be with a woman who admitted to enjoying food. He was more accustomed to ladies who demanded the calorie count of a dish before they would even consider eating.
Back in the car, Lea wondered how, on earth, he managed to make her so painfully aware of him as a man. Or was she oversensitive to his potent male aura? Whatever, she was conscious of every breath he drew.
In yet another exclusive designer salon, they were served champagne while a large collection of clothes was presented for scrutiny. Lea tried on a scarlet dress and jacket. It was a perfect fit and very much more conventional in style than anything her aunt would have chosen. Feeling ridiculously self-conscious, she emerged from the cubicle to let Dave see it. She was starting to appreciate that she liked to be in charge more than was good for him or her.
“I like that; that’s really you," he breathed in sudden amusement. “Add some fur, and you could be a very cute female Santa Claus."
“No fur, please,’ she replied, then queried, ‘Do you have Santa Claus in Chicago?”
He smirked. "Yes, and he comes in the New Year with a female, almost naked sidekick,” Dave told her. “But you can celebrate Christmas any way you want while you’re with me.”
While you’re with me—a subtle little reminder that she would be a temporary wife rather than a real one—Lea assumed. Christmas was only seven weeks away. Where would she be living then? Feeling extraordinarily vulnerable, she stood still while his smouldering, dark eyes raked over her. An inner glow spread through her pelvis, tightening her tummy muscles and leaving her insanely aware of his raw sexual power.