An Offer He Can't Refuse (12 page)

“I think I’m falling in love with him.”

“Perfect. He’s your husband now. Go for it! Just don’t profess any words of love. It’s much too soon for that.”

“Oh, God, I don’t think I can seduce him. I haven’t slept with a man in years.”

“Having sex is similar to riding a bike. It’ll all come back to you. Now come on,” Jen urged. “Let’s go cut that cake.”

~~~

As he stood near the cake, Jackson tipped his head back to get the kinks out of his neck. He had a pile of work waiting for him at the office and, wedding or not, he had every intention of getting to it before the end of the day. Madison looked downright disheveled and strikingly beautiful all at the same time. Strands of dark hair framed her small oval face. Oddly, though, her eyes sparkled with mischief as if she suddenly had a secret. She had a smile for each and every person in attendance as she came forward. She looked much too happy, considering everything that had happened.

“At least the bride is having a good time,” Jamie chided.

Collin held up a glass of champagne, ready to make a toast until Jackson shot him a lethal glare, quickly dousing Collin’s attempt at starting another round of toasts. “Cut the cake,” he growled under his breath.

“Man, you’re a grouch.”

“Cut the—”

“That’s not how it works. The bride and the groom cut the cake together and then lovingly feed each other a bite. It’s a tradition that goes back to the medieval days.”

“Where’s the knife?” Jackson asked.

Jamie laughed.

After Jen deposited Madison at Jackson’s side, he found himself worrying about her, wondering if all the chaos was getting to her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’ll feel better once we cut this cake and get out of here. The crowd looks ravenous and I’m afraid they’ll start a riot if we don’t serve them a piece soon.”

Madison laughed, and then looked up at him with something akin to admiration and yearning. He couldn’t for the life of him remember anyone ever looking at him that way before.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he picked up the knife, surprised by the soft feel of Madison’s hand as she placed it over his. Together they cut out a small piece of spongy, white cake. A few guests applauded. Cameras flashed. Jackson even found himself smiling over such an idiotic tradition.

As instructed, he took the offered bite from his new bride, all the while peering into her eyes. She had the eyes of an angel and once again he found himself mesmerized. It was his turn to feed Madison a bite of cake. Strange, he thought, how he felt as if they were the only two people in the room, as he guided the cake into his wife’s mouth. His hand brushed against her soft lips and he sucked in a breath when her tongue slid across his finger.

As if she hadn’t just been licking him, she wiped his hand with a napkin, all the while giving him an alluring smile. Then she pulled him toward the dance floor. “One dance before we leave,” she said.

“I think we should head home.”

She stopped and gave him a ridiculous pout, her body swaying to the left as she said, “One dance before we go.”

He stepped close and took hold of her waist. “What’s going on?”

“The Binghams are watching us.” She waved at Mr. and Mrs. Bingham.

She peeled off her jacket and handed it to Jen, revealing a sleeveless silk blouse and silky smooth skin. He followed her to the middle of the dance floor.

“
Always and Forever
” by Heatwave began to play. The top of her head brushed against his chin. He had no choice but to breathe in the fragrant scent of rosewater and fresh soap. Her hair was as soft as her skin.

“I wonder who picked this song.”

“I did,” she said. “I love this song. When I was a little girl, I always dreamed of playing it at my wedding.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “I used to play this song on the piano. Did you ever play an instrument?”

“Never had time to learn. My brother and I were working at age twelve.”

“Paper route?”

“Mostly babysitting.”

She laughed.

“You find that amusing?”

“I do. Who changed the diapers, you or Jamie?”

“Me. Jamie entertained the older kids while I did the feeding and the changing of the diapers.”

“That explains why you refer to children as critters.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said with a chuckle.

Jackson listened to her ramble on, knowing that she was uncomfortable with silence. He liked the way her nose crinkled and her eyes lit up when she talked. Overall, she was quite animated when she spoke. Her eyes appeared turquoise under the dim lights.

“Adam and Erin don’t think you dezzerve me,” she said, her words slurred.

“They could very well be right about that,” he said, inwardly smiling when he realized she was beyond tipsy.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his quick agreement.

One of the caterers waved at her from the sidelines.

“Is there anybody in the world you don’t want to be friends with?" he asked.

“No,” she said, her body swaying to the music, one of her fingers twirling the hair at the back of his neck. This was ridiculous. The woman was driving him wild with one finger.

“I think your friend, Adam, wanted to rip me to shreds today.”

Madison laughed. “Adam wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m the only mother figure he’s ever known. He’s protective, that’s all.”

She was much too young to be Adam’s mother, but she definitely had a maternal instinct about her that was hard to ignore. Since their meeting with Mr. Razzano, Jackson had begun to see that there was definitely more to Madison than what Heather had told him. The stories Madison had told in the executor’s office had come straight from the heart. Not lies exactly—more like dreams. Too often over the past few days, Jackson found himself wondering about her. What did she think about when she was alone? What did she want out of life? What made her happy?

One thing was clear. She was as needy as the kids she so often spoke of. Sure, she wanted people to think she was an independent woman, but what she really yearned for was someone to love, someone to smother her with affection. And as much as he enjoyed being around her, the last thing he wanted—was to be that person. He wasn’t ready to be tied down to a lifetime of responsibility.

He felt her head rest against his chest. They were moving too slow to be considered dancing. He could feel her heart beating against his. Her hair smelled like rose petals.

He wasn’t coldhearted, he told himself, as he felt her cheek rub softly against his chest. He just didn’t have time for a relationship. He had work to do. He had a business to run. His body tensed, and he pulled his lips from her hair, wondering what had moved him to put them there in the first place.

He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He’d taken care of his mother until she passed away. He then raised Jamie on his own. Until Walter came into their lives, the responsibility had been overwhelming. And now he thrived on independence and freedom. He liked knowing he could take off tomorrow if he wanted to, or the next day, or the next. He could work all hours of the night without anyone at home to worry about.

He wasn’t ever going to give that up.

Not for anybody.

His body rocked gently with hers, his every movement contrasting greatly with his inner turmoil. He enjoyed holding her close and feeling her body against his. She fit him like a handmade sweater. And that, he decided, was the last straw.

Without waiting for the song to end, he unlocked her arms from around his neck and guided her across the room and through the French doors. Taking long strides, he ushered her across the lawn, stopping when he realized she was limping. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He opened the gate and ushered her through.

“Ooh—ow, ow.”

“What now?”

“I lost my shoe.”

“How far back?”

“The dance floor, I think.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want you yelling at me again.”

He huffed. “And when have I ever yelled at you before?”

“You’re yelling at me right now.”

Towering over her, he leaned over, picked her up, and carried her to the car.

Twenty minutes later Jackson pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition. Her hand was on his leg. She looked over at him and smiled, her eyes slightly downcast.

Temporary or not, she was his wife now, which made him question whether he’d been too hard on her earlier. “I refuse to feel guilty about today,” he told her.

“I’m not asking you to feel guilty.”

“I wasn’t the one who approached you and asked you to marry me. This is your doing.”

“I know.”

He climbed out of the car and came around to open the passenger door.

She didn’t move.

Reluctantly, he reached inside and lifted her into his arms again. “Did you leave your shoe on purpose?”

“Why would I do that?”

“So I would have to carry you again.” As he made his way up the wide expanse of wide stairs leading to his house, he realized he’d carried packages heavier than his new bride. When he got to the door, he adjusted her in a way so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold ground while he struggled to find his keys.

She leaned contentedly against his chest. “You smell nice.”

Ignoring her, he dug deeper into his pants pocket for his keys. She was up to something. No doubt about it. By the time he located his keys, she was twirling her fingers around the buttons of his shirt.

“If you keep that up,” he said, “all bets are off.”

“We didn’t make any bets.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.” Her fingers left his buttons and instead trailed unhurriedly over his chest up to his neck. Before she could remove his tie, he managed to get the door unlocked. He readjusted her once more, this time heaving her over his shoulder.

She playfully protested all the way across the entryway and up a long flight of carpeted stairs. He opened the first door to the left and placed her gently on the four-posted bed in the middle of the room.

“For the next three months,” he said, “this is your room.” He turned to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re not going to join me?”

“Let’s get one thing straight.”

She batted her eyelashes and he couldn’t help but smile.

“We’re not going to sleep together,” he said. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow night.”

“You’re not attracted to me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He shouldn’t have said that, he realized as he watched her come to her knees and undo the top three buttons of her blouse.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hot. I mean, it’s hot in here.”

She was right the first time.

“Oooh, these are killing me.” She slid off of the bed, and then unzipped her skirt and let it fall slowly to the floor.

Jackson was finding it difficult to breathe. He should leave, but he couldn’t embarrass her by leaving in the middle of her striptease.

She slid her pantyhose off next. When she got them half way over smooth pale thighs, his throat went dry. Her legs looked much too long and shapely for a woman of no more than five foot four.

He held in a breath as he watched her slowly peel off her blouse and move toward him. Her pink lacey bra and matching panties didn’t leave much to the imagination. Before she reached him, she tripped on the Berber carpet, but quickly covered the blunder by thrusting her hips forward and sliding her tongue over her top lip.

He smiled. He couldn’t help himself. “What are you doing?”

She stopped in mid-step. “Nothing. Why?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe.”

“Either you are or you’re not.”

“It’s not working?”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

She looked crushed. “Every time you kiss me, I feel things inside of me—tingly, explosive, wonderful things that I’ve never felt before. We’re married now. You said yourself that we had the entire night ahead of us.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I was trying to scare you, hoping to teach you a lesson.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t know me, Madison, and yet you married me. Any woman foolish enough to marry a complete stranger needs to be taught a lesson.”

“I do know you.” She took another step forward and laid a hand on his chest. “I know you would fight to protect me from men like Bryce Archer and Mr. Razzano. And your beautiful, tender kisses aren’t the only reason I know you’re caring and gentle. You love your brother and you still mourn the man who raised you.”

“Who told you that?”

“Jamie.”

He took her hand from his chest and put it to her side. “Trust me. You don’t know me. And it’s better if we keep it that way. We may be married now, but I’m not marriage material. We made a deal and if I remember correctly you wrote a list of rules, the first of which had something to do with keeping our clothes on at all times.” He let his gaze roam over her. “I’d appreciate it if you followed them.”

He turned to leave.

“So you don’t feel anything at all?”

He turned back to face her, his gaze lingering on her rosy cheeks and soft lips as he wondered if he’d ever tire of looking at her. She had absolutely no idea how beautiful she was. “I’m sorry,” he lied. “I don’t feel anything.” And he was sorry. Sorrier than she’d ever know. Without giving himself time to ponder on it further, he turned and walked from the room, taking his painful desire, his frustrations, and an unfamiliar pang in his chest with him.

He had to stay away from her. That was all there was to it. His inability to think and his complete lack of control over his own body when she so much as touched him scared the hell out of him. He needed to stay focused, stay in control. He was a planner—meticulous with detail. And this particular scenario was not part of the plan.

Without looking back, he headed for the stairs, agitated by his newfound weakness when it came to his wife.

His wife
.

The thought made his insides twist.