For Better or For Worse (Wedding Vows) Page 8

  But the question was whether to ask him if he’d just said that to get Carl off his back, or if he meant it.

  Of course, if she asked him now, he would say it was the truth. If there was one thing she’d figured out about him, it was that he desperately wanted her to have sex with him, especially now that he knew his father was still going to surveil him.

  She had to resist his wiles, his clever temptations, his sneaky moves designed to make her want it, too.

  Who was she kidding? She did want it. Badly. Achingly.

  She tensed the muscles of her torso to steel herself, then turned around. His shirt was off, thrown over the arm of the couch, his bare chest brimming with muscled beauty, his hand running lightly over his corrugated abs. She tightened her lips to keep her mouth from falling open.

  “You look… comfortable,” she said.

  “I suppose you’ll want me to sleep on the couch?”

  She glanced through the bedroom door. Only one mattress in there, and it had been torture sharing it the last time they’d stayed in a hotel. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  Disappointment briefly crossed his face, but it was gone so quickly it barely registered. “Let me see if we have an extra blanket,” she said, walking toward the closet.

  “Are you hungry? Should I call room service?”

  Yes, I’m hungry. Hungry for you to be inside me, hungry for your kisses, your touches, your gentle…

  Damn, she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. “I’ll take whatever chicken dish looks good.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She opened the closet, and then all the drawers, but there were no extra blankets anywhere. She supposed the hotel staff figured they would create enough heat not to need any augmentation of the bedclothes. They might not even sleep the whole night.

  Well, he was getting relaxed, she might as well do the same. She found her luggage and some casual clothes. When she was done, she hung the wedding dress in the closet, careful not to smash the beaded satin as she closed the door. Then she returned to the main room, hands clasped together. What was there to do?

  He was laying on his side on the couch, taking up all three cushions, facing the entertainment center. “I didn’t bring anything to read,” she said. “You want to watch television?”

  “There’s never anything good to watch.” He sat up, freeing the far cushion for her. “But I suppose I could get out my computer and do more research on the business deal I’m working on.”

  She lowered herself onto the couch. “Sounds like a good use of your time.”

  His dark eyes glistened, and a moment of tense silence passed. “I hope it’ll be distracting enough.”

  Her line of sight dropped to his groin, and it was evident his body had other plans than studying business opportunities. He gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Sometimes, a guy just can’t control it. Sorry.”

  “I guess I’m being awfully cruel to you.”

  He laughed. “Cruel? No problem. I’m used to it.” Then he stood and fast-walked to the bathroom. A moment later, the shower turned on.

  Probably cold water.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jason didn’t taste the dinner, partly because he wasn’t paying attention to it, and partly because he had drunk four glasses of Champaign and was working on a fifth. Being celibate on his wedding night was not how he’d envisioned his future.

  And Diane didn’t seem all that happy about it, either.

  And there were still several hours before a normal bedtime, before it was time to go to sleep and let unconsciousness take him into oblivion. That’s what he needed here. He needed to be in a stupor, not aware of anything around him.

  He chugged the last of the wine, then reached for the bottle to pour another glass.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” Diane said.

  Jason leveled a glare at her. “Look, lady, if you’re not having shex with me, you haven’t earned the right to nag.”

  “Nag?” Huh. She sounded like she didn’t’ think her statement was inappropriate, like she was just trying to help.

  “Why don’t you jusht kill me.” He waved his glass at her, as though that meant something. Well, it did, didn’t it? It was an expression. It told her how he felt.

  “At this point, even if I wanted to do it, I don’t think you could.”

  “But you don’t want to,” he said. She might as well admit it. “You hate me. You think I’m disgushting.”

  “Don’t go putting your father’s words into my mouth.”

  “Then what do you think of me?”

  She blinked. Well, hah! She hadn’t seen that one coming.

  “I think you’re too drunk to have this conversation.”

  “I never get drunk,” he said. At least he thought he didn’t. Was he inebriated now? He hadn’t done that since he was in high school.

  She shook her head, like a school marm. Like his second nanny, who kept taking toys away from him so she wouldn’t spoil him. Like his dad.

  Oh, God, had he married a female version of his dad?

  “You can’t be this way,” he cried out. “It’s not fair!”

  “I know,” she said, closer now, hands on his shoulders. “You used protection.”

  And memories of his childhood flooded into his mind, memories of his father’s deep frown. He remembered a drawing he’d done in school, him and his dad on their big boat, with a servant standing behind them, holding a tray of drinks. When dad saw it, his face turned red, and he berated Jason for flaunting his dad’s wealth. And hell, Jason didn’t even know what the word flaunt meant.

  “I tried to be a good boy,” he said, reaching his hand up between Diane’s arms to wipe moisture from the bottom of his nose. “Why couldn’t I ever be good enough?”

  “You are good enough,” she said.

  She sounded like she meant it, but obviously it wasn’t true. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have needed to get smashed.

  “You hate me.”

  “Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

  “Right,” he said, then stood. “To sleep, perchance to dream.”

  “Well, you can’t be too drunk if you can quote Shakespeare,” she said with a laugh.

  He stumbled around the couch and headed for the bedroom, hands out because he didn’t want to fall.

  “Hey,” she said, “where’re you going? I thought you were going to sleep on the couch.”

  “Sleep,” he said. Bed. Couch didn’t make sense, didn’t register. That wasn’t where people sleep. When he made it through the bedroom door, he collapsed onto the soft white comforter, and then everything went black.

  ✽✽✽

  Well, what was she going to do now? She had no intention of sleeping on the couch—it was too narrow, and too hard. But Jason was sprawled all over the bed, arms outstretched, legs forming a giant, upside-down V. At least, for the time being, he was incapable of doing anything wrong.

  First things first. She got her nightgown on, then pushed his arm to his side. It would be good if she could get him under the covers, but that didn’t look like it was going to happen. And now, he was drooling on the comforter.

  Sheesh. Remind me never to get him drunk again.

  Not that it had been her fault. He was responsible for his own actions.

  But that didn’t make her feel any better about it.

  She pulled up the covers and slipped beneath them, then shoved him again. She needed more room. Just a little. She gave him another heave, this time sustaining it. He rolled to the side, but when she stopped pushing on him, he rolled right back to where he’d been.

  Finally, she laid on her left side, made herself as comfortable as possible, then went to sleep.

  When morning came, she could feel the warmth of his body, his arms wrapped around her tenderly, knees nudged into her bent legs, erection pressing on her butt muscles.

  So comfortable to be enveloped by him like this. She had wanted it for so long that she co
uld hardly remember ever not desiring him. And now, they were married, and together, a couple, physically joined.

  What?

  Her eyes popped open, and her hand jerked up to grab his arm.

  “Mmm,” he moaned. Sounded like he was still asleep.

  How had he gotten from stone drunk and slobbering to under the covers in a warm embrace? Worse yet, had she missed something last night?

  No, she couldn’t imagine sleeping through that.

  And just the image in her mind… Oh, she wanted it so badly.

  She closed her eyes and let her imagination run wild for a moment, let herself pretend this had been a real marriage, with two people falling in love and vowing to devote the rest of their lives to each other, and now they were snuggled and happy.

  Then she would roll over and kiss him, wake him from his slumber with glorious passion, arouse him from sleep into a frenzy of desire.

  Her body shuddered with unmet needs. Damn, why was she denying herself?

  It was the principle. She was not doing this for money. She was a better person than that.

  “Diane?” Jason mumbled, then nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck. His fingers flared out, moving over her belly and lower ribs, while he pulled in a deep breath. “I love you.”

  She tensed. He was only half awake, or at least he sounded that way, not aware enough to realize how much he had crossed the boundaries of what she would consider appropriate. “Yeah,” she said, “how did you get under the covers?”

  “I woke up, and I was cold.” His arms tensed, and then he pulled away. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t do anything.”

  She rolled over to face him. “What did you say before that?”

  “Um…” His eyes darted back and forth, as though he could rewind the recording and listen to himself again. “I don’t remember.”

  Interesting. That meant either he’d said he loved her without thinking about it, or he was a consummate liar. Shoot, she had to stop second guessing herself, and by extension him. She needed to take him at his word, even if she wasn’t going to act on it. Even if she resisted believing it.

  And maybe she should tell him how she felt. One of them needed to be honest. One of them ought to put their cards on the table and call the others’ bluff.

  But what was she supposed to tell him? She couldn’t say she loved him. That was premature. Maybe she could say she found him attractive, and he had been a nice guy, so far. But it all sounded so weak and wishy-washy, the idea of saying it embarrassed her.

  No, what she needed to tell him was that she also wanted sex.

  “I…” she started, but then closed her mouth.

  “What?”

  Well, now she had to come up with something, and she couldn’t tell him she loved him. That was dangerous ground, and she wasn’t going there. “I’m hungry.”

  He gave her a wicked smile. “Me, too.”

  “Not that kind of hunger,” she snapped. His disappointed expression stung, and she regretted answering so quickly. But she had to stick to her original plan.

  Jason sat up, then crawled out of bed. “I’ll call room service. You know what you want?”

  She gave him her order, then went into the bathroom and started a shower. It needed to be cold. No, freezing.

  CHAPTER 15

  The chauffer picked them up at noon, and Jason had to admit he was looking forward to driving his little Ferrari again. Maybe he could get himself a new one.

  No, he needed to conserve funds, invest in a way that would make him independent of his dad, not because he planned to leave Diane, but because he was certain Dad would come up with some other requirement that he couldn’t meet.

  And once they got back to their house, he realized he was right. Carl greeted Diane with a smile, such as it was, and a stiff hug. Jason got a cold stare. “I’m worried about that swimming pool. The baby could accidently drown.”

  Jason opened his mouth to reply.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Diane said, patting Dad on the back. “You don’t have to concern yourself.”

  He closed his mouth. This was the ultimate indignity, having his wife come to his rescue.

  “Well,” Dad said, “I have a lot more confidence hearing it come from you.”

  Jason walked into the living room, hoping to get away from Dad, but the man followed him. Damn it.

  “When is your return flight?” Jason asked.

  Dad glared at him. “I can tell when I’m not wanted around here.” He pointed a finger at Jason. “You have no manners!”

  Okay, that was enough. “Henry,” Jason said, “could you get me some assistance moving my things into the master suite?”

  “I’ll have it taken care of shortly.”

  Jason nodded and walked towards the stairs.

  “You don’t need to trouble yourself,” Henry said.

  No, he did. He needed a reason to get out of there. “Just going to check some things in the library.”

  “Ah. Very good.”

  When he got to the library, he locked the door, then sat at his computer and stared at the darkened screen. He was going to fail at all of this. His investments would crash and his attempt to be independent would bomb. Why was he even trying?

  He went to the wet bar and poured himself a drink.

  An hour passed, maybe more, him sitting in a chair by the window, feeling the warmth of the sun, nursing his drink, not certain how a day that had begun so wonderfully had deteriorated into this. He needed to find a way to feel better, about his life, about himself, but as long as Dad hung around, that was not going to happen.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Diane.”

  He set the half-drunk glass on a nearby table and opened the door. Thankfully, Dad was not standing right behind her.

  “He’s taking a nap,” she said, stepping inside and walking to the window. She seemed to like to do that. “Beautiful day.”

  He let out a sad chuckle. “Now, we’re reduced to talking about the weather.”

  “I was thinking about what I’m going to do with the money your dad is paying me.” She cringed. “Damn, I still don’t like the way that sounds.”

  “He’s giving it to you.”

  “Okay. That’s better.” She shifted uncomfortably. “My first thought is to put it into savings.”

  “You don’t get rich on savings.”

  “I figured you’d say that. Any suggestions?” She sat where he had been before, the sun at the perfect height so it warmed her body but didn’t’ shine directly into her eyes.

  “There’s always the stock market.”

  “You know a lot about that?”

  “Nah.”

  “Then maybe real estate. Could you invest my money, put it into something that will eventually earn me enough to live on?”

  A chill swept over Jason. She was preparing herself for their eventual separation, and he didn’t like that idea at all. He should just tell her he couldn’t help her, or maybe worse he could…

  No, he couldn’t do that to her. And trying to keep her in the marriage by making her dependent on him wasn’t going to work, anyway. What a stupid, selfish idea. If Dad had heard those thoughts, he would have been so disgusted he would have vomited right on the carpet.

  “What would you think about owning a couple of apartment complexes?”

  Her eyes moved from side to side as she apparently considered the idea. “Sounds like a lot of managerial work.”

  “You hire someone who lives on the premises to be the manager,” he said. “They get free rent and take care of all the headaches.”

  “Hm. Sounds like a possibility.”

  “And once you get the buildings paid for, you have income for as long as you own them.”

  “Well, okay, what do we need to do to get started?”

  He forced himself to smile as he woke up his computer. “I have a couple of properties I’ve been looking
at, that I think will be perfect for you.”

  ✽✽✽

  “How soon do we find out the sex?” Carl said.

  Diane forced her lips into a smile she didn’t feel. Sounded like her father-in-law was about to launch into another round of parenting advice. And they still had fifteen minutes to go before they got to the airport. “In two weeks.”

  “Maybe I should stay for that.”

  Her eyes enlarged. She could feel it, the expression of horror so strong she couldn’t stop it. “Uh, well…”

  “We’ll let you know as soon as we find out,” Jason said. He was in the front seat beside the chauffer, having ceded the owner’s spot to his father, and leaving Diane in the back to manage the old curmudgeon.

  No, there had to be a better word to describe him, something that sounded more dastardly.

  “We’ll even send you copies of the images,” Diane added.

  “If it’s a girl,” Carl said, “I want the nursery done in pinks and purples.”

  Diane glanced at Jason, who rolled his eyes, while keeping his head turned so that Carl couldn’t see the expression.

  “I’m sure we’ll come up with something appropriate,” Diane said.

  “And boys should get lots of sports stuff,” Carl continued. He crunched his face in a snarl. “I don’t want any of this liberal, gender neutral crap put on my grandchild.”

  Well, if she told him what she thought about that, she would start another argument, and be treated to another threat to withdraw funds. It was time to just play along, keep the peace until the man was finally gone. And with any luck, he wouldn’t hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  “Nothing but the most traditional for our child,” she said, slapping her hand on her thigh. “We’ll make sure this child knows what’s expected of it.”

  “Damn right.”

  Jason frowned at her. She winked back.

  His muscles relaxed.

  “Now, another thing you need to take care of is the nanny,” Carl said. “Got to get someone who can discipline. None of these softies, spoiling the child.”