New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (19 page)

His gaze slid from her freckled shoulders to the pale, succulent fullness of her breasts. Her nipples peaked and pouted beneath his devouring gaze.

Desire and need pooled hot and heavy in his sex.

He visually caressed the womanly, slight rounding of her belly. He drank in the tight red curls cradled between her rounded hips and the sleek line of her thighs.

He stood, rigid with the need to partake of the feast before him. He longed to test the texture of her skin against his. To taste her.

Her glittering, sapphire-dark eyes engaged him, radiating a heat that mirrored his own. She slowly reached up to brush her fingertips against a swollen nipple. A soft moan escaped her.

Watching her touch herself, desire roared through him like a fire out of control. It threatened to consume him, destroy him.

He tightened his grip on the doorknob. The need to make love to her nearly dropped him to his knees. It was that
need
that formed and stiffened his resolve to walk away. He'd wanted, and had, a number of women, but
he'd never
needed
anyone like he needed Kat now. He fought to regain control.

When he performed his husbandly duties, it'd be just that—a performance, a duty. Not giving in to this alien need.

“Dinner's here.” Hot want thickened his voice. Frustration edged it with harshness. His announcement broke the erotic spell that bound the two of them.

“Oh.” Kat blinked, her expression dazed, as if she were waking from a dream. She reached behind her for a towel, draping it around herself sarong-wise. As she crossed the bedroom to the closet, she avoided looking at him.

Andrew relinquished the doorknob and moved toward the bathroom. “I need a shower before dinner.” He slammed the door on the silence behind him.

Kat's lingering scent in the still-steamy room aggravated his unabashed craving. The thought that he'd just cut off his nose to spite his face—it felt like other body parts—occurred to him.

Andrew turned the cold-water tap on full blast, not bothering with the hot.

He was plenty hot.

He stepped into the shower. A seldom used but very appropriate epithet echoed in the stall.

Thoroughly drenched, Andrew stood beneath the icy deluge fully dressed.

 

K
AT, NOT PRONE TO SELF-DOUBT
, wondered if she might have made a mistake with this marriage.

Andrew had turned her on more with a two-minute look than Nick had in four years of touching. He'd also threatened her earlier resolve. Who was she kidding? She'd forgotten all about contracts and agreements and partnerships. She'd wanted him like she'd never wanted any other man.

Dangerous territory to tread on a temporary basis.
And nothing had changed. Theirs was a temporary arrangement and that's all it would ever be. She wanted it that way.

She thunked the cartons of Chinese on the wrought iron patio table and paced back to the kitchen.

The refrigerator door stood open. Andrew hunkered down before it. He slanted her a sideways glance. “Want a beer?”

The day had been unbalanced enough and she still had to get through the night with this man. “Thanks, but no thanks. I'll stick with water.”

In one lithe movement he rose, elbowed the door shut and turned to face her. A polo shirt hugged the breadth of his shoulders. Khaki shorts showcased muscular, hairy, thoroughly masculine legs. The slow burn she'd sought to control flared within her. But one look at his shuttered expression doused the flame. Those same eyes that had devoured her earlier now chilled her to the core.

She pushed a wild lock of hair off her forehead. “I thought we could eat outside on the patio.”

“That's fine.” His clipped tone offered just the perspective she needed. Desperately needed. According to her ovulation prediction kit, she was fertile ground, which probably explained her incredible response to his perusal of her earlier.

In heavy silence he followed her out to the patio, where they settled into opposing seats. Pots of hibiscus, gardenias and jasmine scented the warmth of the evening. A bird trilled in the distance. Still neither spoke.

Kat opened her carton and reached for the dinnerware, determined to outlast his silence.

Andrew's food remained untouched as he watched her across the table. He took a long pull of his cold beer and broached the subject between them. “About what happened…”

Kat remained silent, curious to know Andrew's thoughts on the intimacy they'd shared. She'd been
caught up in a magical spell he'd cast merely by looking at her. She'd recognized his hunger. She hadn't been able to move. She hadn't
wanted
to move as his gaze touched her intimately. Had he felt the magic as well?

“I didn't mean to…” He gazed at a point past her shoulder. “It won't happen again.”

Relief and frustration warred within her. Frustration stemmed from her need to know how he'd felt. Relief, at not having to examine the escalating awareness between them, won out.

Kat mounded shredded pork on a bed of rice. “We both have to get used to living with someone else. I'll be more careful in the future.”

An imperceptible nod attested to his relief at her willingness to drop the matter. She studied him across the table as he reached for his dinner.

He was handsome—no denying the appealing combination of black hair, gray eyes and chiseled features. She'd expected a pleasant physical relationship. She hadn't anticipated this incendiary, smoldering heat between them. She didn't want it. And then there was his obvious affection for the widowed Mrs. Fitzwillie. And the fish. And the music.

She wanted the staid, safe man she thought she'd married.

She'd just concentrate on the things that mattered. Like the
Wall Street Journal.
His perfectly creased trousers and starched shirts. The way
different
rolled off his tongue like an expletive.

This was still a brilliant plan. She'd make it work. From here on out, Andrew Winthrop was simply one giant, walking sperm.

“Would you care to try this?” He offered, ever so civil.

Kat wrinkled her nose in distaste at the tofu concoction on his plate. “No, thanks. I'll stick with what I
ordered.” Take-out Chinese and her groom suddenly became interchangeable.

Amused by her own private joke, she forked a mouthful of her own meal. One bite and fire flamed in her mouth. Eyes watering, she grabbed her water glass and drained it.

Unruffled, Andrew regarded her across the table. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, convinced she'd breathe fire if she opened her mouth.

“More water?” he asked as he took her glass and turned toward the kitchen. She nodded mutely.

Kat examined her plate in his absence and realized her oversight. She'd expected one thing and gotten another. The cook had used whole red peppers instead of chopping them up. She'd bitten into an entire Chinese hot pepper.

Andrew placed a glass of water before her and sat back down with a fresh beer for himself. She muttered her thanks.

“Guess it was a little spicier than you anticipated?” A taunting spark of humor belied his noncommittal tone.

“No. It was exactly what I ordered. I just need to pay closer attention from now on and not get distracted.” She drank another generous portion of water, determined to put out the fire.

White teeth flashed against his tanned skin. “I promise not to distract you again with my tofu and mung beans.”

Kat ignored his gibe and took another bite after carefully checking for peppers. “We need to plan this reception. I'd like to get it over with as soon as possible.” She and Andrew had discussed the necessity of hosting a reception for family and, more importantly, his business acquaintances, since they'd married so quickly and quietly.

“There's very little for us to do except decide on a
date and show up. Gloria, my secretary, is incredibly efficient and used to dealing with this kind of thing. She'll take care of all the details in no time.”

A swift stab of emotion, perilously close to jealousy, stabbed her at his esteem for Gloria. Doubtless, the paragon Gloria was a blond Amazonian beauty. Or perhaps svelte like Claudia?

What in the world was wrong with her? She was obviously overtired from the excitement of the day. She shook her head to clear it.

Misreading her action, Andrew frowned at her. “I assure you, you'll be pleased with the whole affair.”

She clamped down on her wayward interpretation of what he said. Simply a poor choice of words on his part. “Fine. Next weekend may be short notice but let's plan for that anyway.”

“I'll let Gloria know on Monday.” He angled himself in the chair and fished in his shirt pocket. “I also picked up a wedding present for you this afternoon.”

A single key clattered noisily across the wrought iron tabletop and pinged against her glass. Now they were back on safe footing with such a romantic gesture.

A house key stretched her definition of a gift. She left it lying next to her water glass.

“Umm, thanks. I realized once you left today that I didn't have a house key. I had to leave it unlocked while I went to the nursery.” He raised his eyebrows and she hastened to reassure him. “I left Toto here to guard the house though.”

He laughed outright at Toto's status as a guard dog, the sound playing along her nerve endings like a caress.

“It's not a house key, although I do have a spare I'll give you.” He leaned forward and picked up the key, pressing it into the soft flesh of her palm. His fingers wrapped around hers a fraction longer than necessary. “It's a car key.”

How could he shake her up with one lousy touch?
Maybe this ovulation business had her sensitized. “But I already have a car.”

“After a fashion.”

“It runs.”

“After a fashion.”

“What are you going to drive if I drive yours?”

“You're not going to drive mine. I bought you a new car.”

“What? You did what?” It came out annoyingly close to a squeak.

Andrew didn't blink. “I bought you a car.”

She'd bought him a book—paperback at that—and he'd bought her a car! She pushed the key across the table to his side. “I don't want another car.” For the briefest second she fantasized about air-conditioning, before loyalty squashed it. “I'm very fond of Carlotta.”

“We got married for two reasons, one of which was my partnership.” Andrew massaged his temple. “Whether either one of us likes it, my firm and our clients expect certain standards. As my wife, you can't drive around in that road hazard.” He pushed the key back to her.

She acknowledged the veracity of his reasoning. She wavered and might have agreed, had he skipped his snide description of poor Carlotta. Kat leaned over the table, dropping the key into his khaki lap. “Easy. I won't drive in front of your friends.” She plopped back into her chair.

“Even if that were reasonable, which we both know it isn't, there's still the other reason we got married.” He steepled his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Monday morning the dealership's delivering a station wagon. It's one of the safest cars on the road. If you insist on turning me into a laughingstock before my colleagues, that's your prerogative. Don't drive the damn Volvo.”

He leaned forward. Steel threaded his voice and was
evident in his gaze that pinned her to her chair. “But after the first time we make love, when there is even the slightest chance you might be pregnant, you lose the option. You will not endanger our baby by driving around in that death trap you call a car. You'll drive the Volvo if I have to strap you in myself.”

Kat swallowed convulsively. He'd said “our baby.” Not
the baby
or
your baby,
but “our baby.” Not a single argument came to mind. She was dismayed she hadn't considered Carlotta was neither safe nor reliable for a baby. There were times when giving in didn't mean crying “uncle.”

“Okay. I'll drive it.”

Andrew shoved back his chair and tossed her the key.

“You could've at least let me pick out the color,” she groused, compelled to object to his high-handedness.

He gathered the remains of their meal and started toward the kitchen. “Luckily they had a cancellation on a special order.” He paused at the door. “It's purple.”

Toto trotted out as Andrew disappeared into the kitchen. Insects droned with the coming of dusk and Kat continued to stare at the doorway Andrew had disappeared through. He'd bought an expensive new car to keep them safe. He'd bought her a purple car!

Toto jumped into her lap and lavished her with a doggie-breath kiss. She scratched behind his ears and sighed into the night. “Houston, we've got a problem. Where's my tape? I need to listen to my tape.”

 

“W
HICH SIDE DO YOU PREFER
?”

Kat shrugged her ambivalence, lifting the hem of her lime-green, oversize T-shirt to just above her knees. “It's your bed. You choose.”

Despite having spent the better part of the evening in his study, a stroke of bad luck sent him to bed at the same time as his wife. He wasn't looking forward to sharing a platonic bed with this woman who, in turn,
bewitched and frustrated him. Andrew wondered if she always wore the hideous shirt to bed or if, fearing he'd lose his head after seeing her naked earlier, she'd donned it deliberately. “Go ahead and take the side closest to the bathroom.”

While Kat settled Toto in a doggie bed situated by the closet, Andrew stripped down to his briefs. Doubtless, she expected pajamas.

By the time she finished with Toto, he'd settled between the cool cotton sheets. Her eyes widened when she turned and noticed his bare chest above the sheet. He recognized the surprise on her face. She didn't know whether he was naked below the sheet or not. He grinned to himself. Let her continue to wonder. Served her right for wearing that atrocity.