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WIFE BY AGREEMENT Page 7
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'Of course,' Ethan responded. His reluctance was obvious enough to make Hannah blush. She was beginning to feel quite sorry for the stranger.
I’ll show you to a room,' she put in quickly, seizing the opportunity to escape. She thought for a moment that Ethan was going to object, and breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded.
She'd mounted the stairs, their unexpected guest bringing up the rear, when Ethan's deep voice seemed to vibrate off the vaulted ceiling.
'Well, if you think you're sharing a room with your toy boy under my roof, Mother, you're mistaken.'
'My God,' his parent replied clearly, 'you always were an awful prude! I'm curious, Ethan—how exactly are you planning to stop me? Are you planning on patrolling the house all night?'
Hannah risked a look at the blond young man's profile; much to her relief and amazement, he looked amused.
'Sorry.'
'Don't worry about it, I've been called a lot worse.' He unslung his backpack as Hannah paused outside a bedroom door. 'It's me who should be apologising—I had assumed Faith had warned you we were coming. But then she's rather fond of the element of surprise,' he mused with a reminiscent smile.
'I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her since our wedding day.' To her horror Hannah realised that she was close to tears. 'If you want anything, just yell,' she said hurriedly as she opened the door and stepped to one side for him to enter.
'I think I should be saying that,' Drew observed bluntly. He'd have to be made of stone not to pick up the distress this girl was emanating. That, along with her surly husband's attitude and the traces of old bruises, told a story that filled him with anger. The man was obviously a thug.
Hannah flushed as the implication of his words sank in. 'I think you've misread the situation,' she said stiffly.
'It happens,' he agreed with an easy shrug. 'But the offer stands,' he said firmly.
Going back to her room, Hannah reflected ruefully that it was lucky Ethan hadn't heard the conversation. She could imagine he just might take exception to the idea that his wife needed protecting—especially if it was him she needed protecting from!
She'd knocked the bedside light over trying to switch it on. The lamp lay on the floor, its shade at a crazy angle, casting shadows over the deep blue carpet.
Her cream cotton nightshirt was wet with perspiration and she was shaking. It wasn't the first tune she'd had the nightmare of being trapped in the car with Craig, but it was the worst.
Her breathing was just calming when the door burst open and their blond-haired guest appeared. His blue eyes swept the room suspiciously before he moved inside.
'What are you doing?' she asked, surprisingly unalarmed by the intrusion.
'You yelled.'
'Sorry about that. I had a nightmare.'
'So I see.' He bent to pick up the lamp from the floor.
'Why the hell did you lock the door, Hannah?' Ethan's eyes narrowed into slits when he saw the well- built and scantily dressed figure of Drew Cummings. I’m sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for the fact you're in my wife's bedroom at one a.m.' The soft hostility in his voice was more threatening than any raised voice might have been. 'I suggest you share it— now!'
Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, Ethan was wearing light silk shorts which did nothing to disguise the athletic power of his tall frame. Hannah felt forbidden stirrings just looking at him. Feelings that had been quite absent when she'd looked at Drew, even though they were similarly attired. Sexual chemistry certainly didn't follow any logical pattern.
To give him his due, Drew didn't recoil from the dark suspicion in Ethan's voice. The edgy atmosphere was heavy with the threat of imminent violence.
'She yelled out. I'm a light sleeper.'
Hannah knew she hadn't imagined the warning held in this statement.
'Are you all right, Hannah?' Ethan's hard glance flicked in her direction.
'Just a nightmare. Thank you, Drew, but I'm fine now.' Please let him go before things get really silly! Considering the fact that until recently the only male who had ventured across her threshold had been a three-year-old child, it occurred to her that she was taking two virile, extremely attractive men circling each other with wary aggression quite calmly.
Drew's blue eyes rested on Ethan with a less than friendly expression. 'If you say so.'
'I do.' She gave a sigh of relief as he departed. She whistled softly and sank back against the pillows.
'What was all that about?' Ethan asked, closing the door firmly behind him.
'He appears to think I need protecting.'
'From what?'
'You, I imagine,' she confessed as a bubble of inappropriate laughter rose up in her throat.
'And how did he get that impression?'
'Don't look at me, I didn't say a word. It might have something to do with first impressions,' she mused, throwing him a wry look.
'I don't like being looked at as if I'm a wife-beater,' he growled, in an outraged tone.
'Any more than I like being looked at like a victim. Shall we stop the conversation right there while we're in unexpected harmony?' Her eyes widened in alarm as he sat on the edge of the bed. The light thrown out by the small lamp shadowed the strong curves of his back, highlighting the shift of muscles as he moved. His skin looked so smooth, almost oiled; she wondered what it would be like to rub oil into the hard contours.
'I don't like him.'
'I'd never have guessed.'
'What do you suppose would have happened if I hadn't walked in when I did?'
'You obviously have a theory—do share it,' she urged, propping her chin on her hands. 'I'm all ears.'
'I doubt if it's your ears he's interested in. Prowling around half naked,' he said sourly.
'Like you.' This provocative little jibe earned her a savage glare. She widened her eyes with an innocent confusion that made him grind his teeth audibly. The confusion wasn't entirely faked: she'd let her eyes dwell on the firm contours of his lean, tanned body for longer than was good for her.
'This is my house.'
'This is my bedroom.'
'You're very territorial all of a sudden.'
'I'm very popular all of a sudden,' she countered drily. It was difficult to be flattered when she knew from experience to what lengths Ethan was willing to go to safeguard his children's happiness.
'I find it bloody perverse that you're willing to give a total stranger the benefit of the doubt, but you attach the basest motives possible to everything I do.'
'You don't have to seduce me, Ethan. I'm not about to run off with Drew or anyone else, even if he is charming and very good-looking.'
'My mother certainly thinks so.'
'I don't think your mother is the sort of person who takes kindly to being told how to run her life, especially by her son,' Hannah ventured warily. 'At least, that was the impression I got,' she observed with a shrug. Like her son, Faith didn't seem the type to take advice kindly.
'Forget about my mother,' he said. The thickness in his voice filled her with alarm and excitement. 'Why must I have some ulterior motive in wanting to seduce my wife? Your words not mine,' he added wryly. 'Why can't I just be responding to a basic biological need— the most basic biological need there is?'
'If your biological needs had been a priority in your choice of wife you wouldn't have married me, Ethan.' The honest truth hurt, but she didn't want him to believe she was under any illusions, though sometimes she wished she were! She had to prove to herself as well as to him that she couldn't be beguiled by the smouldering expression in his eyes. 'You're not sexually attracted to me,' she said firmly.
'Is that a fact?'
'I know I'm not beautiful.'
'If men only slept with beautiful women we'd have a serious under-population problem.'
'You mean you're prepared to close your eyes and think of Cindy Crawford! I'm seriously disappointed in you, Ethan. I thought you were much slicker than that!' Her smal
l bosom rose swiftly in outrage.
'Oh, hell, that came out all wrong!' She wasn't even sure he was aware that his hand was massaging the length of her thigh over the down-filled quilt. She wished she weren't so profoundly aware; even through the layers, the contact sent electrical thrills shooting through her body. 'I meant that beauty is a subjective thing. I can admire a beautiful woman without wanting to make love to her.'
Hannah didn't bother to hide her scepticism. This claim didn't tally with the popular conception of the male animal, and, lacking any personal experience to speak about, that was all she had to go on.
'If you think you're unattractive people will treat you that way,' he said in a persuasively positive tone. 'It's all a matter of the aura you project. Tonight you felt sexy and people found you sexy.'
'I-..'
'Don't deny it. It was obvious and justified—you did look sexy.'
'A dress and the right accessories are all superficial. Next you'll be telling me I'm beautiful inside.' She tried to sound flippant but it was difficult. Her voice emerged painfully husky. As he developed his theme she found herself wanting more and more to believe all the flattering things he was saying.
'Maybe you are. Kids and animals love you, and they're supposed to know about these things, although personally I've always found them undiscriminating little beasts.' Hannah wasn't sure if he was talking about children or animals. 'As far as I'm concerned,' he continued, fixing her with a very direct stare, 'you've turned into a right royal pain in the proverbial.'
She gasped indignantly at this cool observation. 'Well, thank you! I've turned myself inside out trying to make life comfortable for you, and the first time something goes a bit wrong you act like a sulky prima donna! I think you're the most unreasonable, selfish man I've ever met! All take and no give.'
I’m not big on self-analysis, but just lately I've come to the conclusion I've got a deep-seated masochistic streak,' he confided. 'Apart from the odd steamy dream about that adjoining door. There's something about a Closed door,' he mused moodily, 'that invites speculation.'
Hannah choked at this throw-away remark, unable to believe her ears. She felt a tell-tale heat burn her cheeks. Was it possible that he'd been having fantasies that side of the door whilst she...? Had their fantasies had much in common? she wondered.
'I took your contribution to this house pretty much for granted,' Ethan continued, noting her expression with a look of satisfaction. 'The moment you start developing attitude, all I can think about is ripping off your clothes,' he said frankly.
'Attitude?' she said faintly.
'Gallons of the stuff,' he reaffirmed grimly. 'I also happen to like your face. You remind me of one of those Madonna paintings—it's possible the medieval females who posed for those were real pains too.'
'Perhaps you think sex is as good a way as any of keeping me in line. Perhaps you're a control freak!' she accused wildly. He was pushing all the right buttons; she had to do something! Or any minute now she'd be... She closed her eyes, unwilling to contemplate what she might be doing next.
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he regarded her with a virtuous expression. 'It must have something to do with my careless use of the term "masochism", but I think you've got entirely the wrong idea about the sort of sex I have in mind, Hannah. I'm not into that sort of thing,' he admitted apologetically.
A gurgling sound escaped the confines of her throat. 'I didn't mean...!...' She swallowed to clear the congestion of scorching embarrassment. 'Oh, you're impossible!'
'Up to this point, nothing short of thumbscrews could have prised an honest opinion out of you. Now you're flinging insults. I call that progress.'
'You're weird.' She glared at him with baffled exasperation.
'Insults are intimate,' he explained.
The way his velvet tongue caressed 'intimate' made the fine hairs on her nape stand on end. 'I thought they were indicative of incompatibility.' The frost that was supposed to coat her words thawed the moment she opened her mouth.
'We've never tried to see if we're compatible.'
'That's the way you wanted it.'
'And you didn't? Come off it, Hannah, you've spent the last year pretending I wasn't actually here. It was obvious I was the only part of this deal you found hard to stomach, and I didn't mind.' Much, he added silently. There had been times when he'd felt slightly irked that she showed no interest whatever in the things he did. But he'd accepted he was nothing but a pay packet to her. 'The less time I spent here, the more you liked it!'
She wasn't about to say anything that might give a slightly more accurate slant to his interpretation of the past year. 'So what's changed?' 'We both have, I think.'
'No!' She shook her head, refusing to take the next step. He was confusing her with clever words. She couldn't trust him; she couldn't trust herself!
'My mother says she's getting married.' He dropped the bombshell at the most unexpected moment'
'Not Drew!' she gasped, forgetting for a moment he'd manoeuvred her into a corner. 'Oh, Ethan, you didn't read her a lecture, did you?' she asked anxiously. She knew how tactless he could be when he got protective. 'See what I mean—you've lost your touch with the old cold indifference. You care, and not just about the children,' he said triumphantly.
'You rat!' she cried. 'I hope you're not trying to imply I'm in love with you.' She had been scorching hot seconds before; now shock left her trembling with cold. 'Of course I'm not.'
She could have throttled him when he had the insensitive gall to laugh. 'I suppose you made that up—about your mother?
'I wish I had. No, it looks like Galahad—with a scornful expression, he jerked his head toward the door '—is the lucky man. Whilst she didn't name him, that was the impression I got.'
'Drew? He can't be any older than you.' Faith Kemp was a good-looking woman, but there was no disguising the fact that she was of a different generation from that of her companion. Hannah couldn't help feeling shocked, even though she knew conditioning had a lot to do with her gut response.
'A year younger,' he observed gloomily. 'Thirty- five—she told me so herself. I can't believe that she'd be stupid enough to fall for some itinerant beach bum.'
'He seemed very nice,' Hannah felt impelled to protest. 'You don't know he's a beach bum.'
'I know his type,' Ethan observed with a sneer.
'Nonsense!' she contradicted firmly, and earned herself a scowl. 'And I don't suppose you'd be shocked if it was your father marrying a girl twenty—'
'Thirty years younger, and I'd be very shocked, considering he's been six feet under for the past ten years! Anyway,' he said with a frown, 'you're very eager to defend mum's toy boy all of a sudden. Perhaps that's why the door was locked? You didn't want me to interrupt.'
'Sure, I propositioned Drew on the way up the stairs. I'm quite a girl!' she drawled sarcastically.
'The man's a gigolo; he doesn't need an invitation.'
'For goodness' sake, Ethan, anyone would think you're jealous.'
'Wouldn't any man who found that opportunist little creep in his wife's bedroom half naked—' he swallowed hard, having difficulty containing his contempt '—have just cause to be suspicious?'
'But I'm not really your wife.'
"That can soon be fixed.' His eyes flicked to her shocked face. 'I think we'd both like that.' He reached out and touched her cheek; his fingers left a trail of fire against her skin. 'You look as if I've made an improper suggestion. We're married—nothing could be more proper than for us to share a bed.' The lazy amusement was superficial; there was nothing lazy about the expression on his watchful face or the tension in his big body.
'It's a big house—there are plenty of beds.' Inside her breast her heart was beating a wild tattoo.
'Lonely beds. Aren't you lonely in this big bed, Hannah? Why look for someone else to fill it when I'm so handy?'
Looking at him, hearing the soft, inviting purr of his
voice, brought a wildlife documentary on predators she'd seen recently irresistibly to mind. So he didn't have sharp claws and a silky pelt—he definitely filled all the other criteria for predator, and she identified totally with the helpless situation of the creature being stalked.
'Sometimes—sometimes I'm lonely,' she admitted breathily. 'But I'm used to it.' The impulse to turn her cheek into the palm of his hand proved too strong to resist. Rubbing her cheek against the slightly callused surface of his hand, she closed her eyes. What's wrong with me? she wondered. A plea of convenience was hardly the most wildly romantic form of seduction, and yet here she was literally panting for his touch.