The Temporary Mrs. King (7 page)

She lifted both hands and shoved at his chest. He stepped back in response—not because he had to but because he could see she needed the space. And hell, so did he.

“You're wrong.”

“No,” he said. “I'm really not. But you tell yourself whatever you have to.”

Neither of them spoke and the sounds of the party seemed to grow to fill the tense silence between them. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime or two, Melinda said, “I don't think I can go back into the reception. I'm going to go up to the suite.”

“Fine.” Sean moved back to the balcony and hands on the rail, stared out at the moon-washed darkness.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He turned his head to look at her and as much as he hated to admit it, a part of him wanted to comfort her. She looked a little…lost. But he shut down his soft and cuddly side in favor of nursing his righteous indignation awhile longer. “I'm going to get a drink.”

“I meant—” She broke off and blew out a breath. “I meant, will you still honor our deal? Will you be coming up to the suite?”

Up to the penthouse suite where they would both be staying for the length of their marriage. Living with her, being near her and not touching her. For one split second, he considered calling the whole damn thing off. But he
was pissed, not stupid. And he didn't go back on his word. Not even when he was sorely tempted to.

“Yeah,” he said, watching her with a jaundiced eye. She was beautiful but dangerous. Wounded but sneaky. After a second or two pause, he said, “No worries. I'll play my part, Melinda. I'll be every bit the husband
Steven
would have been.”

“H
e said
that
?” Kathy took a sip of her iced tea and reached for a cookie.

Melinda broke a cookie into tiny pieces and then broke those pieces into crumbs before she answered. It was two days since her wedding and she hadn't spoken to Sean beyond the vague “Good morning” since she'd left him on the balcony that night.

She was miserable and tired and confused, damn it.

She could still see the look in Sean's eyes when he spoke to her last. That flash of fury mingled with the remaining glitter of desire. And the worse part? She still wanted him.

“Yep,” she finally said. “He'll be the husband Steven would have been. He was furious.”

“Well,
duh
.”

Her gaze snapped up to her friend's. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, sweetie,” Kathy soothed, patting her hand briefly. “But I can see why he was mad.”

“Well, I don't.” Melinda folded her arms over her chest and glowered quietly.

“Yeah, you can,” Kathy said with a short laugh. “You lied to him.”

“I didn't
lie
, exactly.”

“You just didn't tell him about Steven.”

“He didn't need to know.” She shifted her gaze to the harbor where several fishing skiffs were headed back to shore. A few kids were running along the pier, laughing, throwing bread to seagulls. For Tesoro, life went on.

“Seems like he did,” Kathy said and Melinda looked at her. “No man wants to think he's taking the place of some other guy. And please. A
King
?”

“Sean said the same thing, but he's not taking Steven's place. No one could.”

Kathy sighed heavily, but Melinda ignored it. She'd never understood her friend's dislike of Steven and Kathy had never wanted to talk about it. Now, Melinda didn't care to understand. It didn't matter anymore. Steven was gone, and she was married to someone else.

“So, one thing you didn't tell me,” Kathy said.

“What?”

“The big make-out scene on the balcony…how was it?”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Great,” Melinda admitted with another long sigh. “Amazing. Incredible.”

“Ah.” Kathy smiled knowingly.

“Exactly! How can I feel that way about anyone else?”

“Honey.” Kathy's voice was a little less patient now. “You're alive. Why shouldn't you
feel
alive?”

She shook her head and looked back at the water, let
ting her gaze soften, her vision blur until the scene before her became nothing more than a wash of indistinct color. She couldn't let herself feel anything for Sean.

That would mean that she had let Steven go, and she had promised herself that their love was forever. She couldn't turn her back on Steven's memories. No matter what Sean King made her feel. He would be gone in two months. Steven's memory would last forever. The only thing she could give her late fiancé now was her loyalty.

She owed him that, didn't she?

 

“Tell your grandfather I'll have those strawberries he likes by next weekend.”

“I will, thanks Sallye,” Melinda said, giving the woman behind the counter a smile.

This early in the morning, there were only a handful of people at the outdoor produce stand. Melinda knew most of them and nodded greetings as she wandered back out to the dirt track where her car was parked.

She stepped out from under the canvas ceiling into the sunlight and tipped her face up to the cloud-filled sky. Then she looked out across the coast road at the ocean. There were a few fishing boats, a couple of pleasure craft and seagulls wheeling and diving in the air, looking for breakfast.

“Just another day in paradise,” she murmured with a wistful smile, wishing her heart didn't feel like a lead ball in the center of her chest.

She usually enjoyed being up this early. But being awake because you hadn't been able to fall asleep was a whole different thing. She hadn't slept more than two hours at a stretch since she got married. Glancing down at the ring on her left finger, she sighed as the stones winked at her in the morning light.

It wasn't supposed to have been like this, she thought. Her faux marriage should have been well, easy. Turns out, it was anything but.

During the days since the wedding, Melinda had just been going through the motions. In front of people, she played the happy newlywed. In private, she survived an uneasy truce with her new husband. Sean was painfully polite and distant, and she wished he'd just yell at her again. Then at least they'd be talking.

“Because your last talk went so well,” she muttered.

She lifted her chin in silent defiance as the memory of her wedding night rushed into her mind. After leaving Sean on the balcony, she'd headed straight for the penthouse suite that had been hers since she left college. She had showered and changed into a nightgown and then had lain in bed…waiting.

Humiliating to admit now, but she had actually
hoped
that Sean would come to her that night. Had thought that after what they'd shared in the moonlight—even though it had ended badly—he wouldn't be able to stay away.

That he would be the one to break their vow so she could enjoy him and still maintain the illusion that she hadn't wanted him. Because it
was
an illusion. Melinda sighed, looked out at the fishing boats as the rolling waves made them bounce and sway on the water. The truth was, she
did
want Sean. Badly. More than she would have thought possible. She could hardly believe it herself. She hadn't felt the slightest bit of interest in any man since Steven's death and she hadn't expected to feel anything for Sean. But oh boy, did she.

Lifting one hand to her mouth as if she could still feel the burn of his kiss, Melinda tried to reconcile what she was feeling with what she
knew
. She had loved Steven. She
didn't love Sean. So how could she be on fire by simply
thinking
about the man? And how would she ever get through the next couple of months?

This shouldn't be happening. Wanting another man was a betrayal of what she'd had with Steven, wasn't it? Guilt ratcheted up another notch or two inside her.

She sighed and remembered that the morning after the wedding, she had found Sean sleeping on the too-short-for-him couch in the living room, his long legs hanging over the edge. He hadn't looked at all comfortable, but every night since, that's where he had slept.

“I'm not even sure if he's punishing me or himself,” she mumbled.

But either way, it was working.

“Not exactly the picture of a happy bride.”

She gasped as a deep, familiar voice spoke up from behind her. As if she'd conjured him with her thoughts, Melinda turned to look up at Sean. He was tanned and relaxed and all too gorgeous. He wore a King Construction T-shirt, faded blue jeans that clung to his long, muscular legs and a pair of scuffed-up work boots that somehow just added to his appeal. His hair was wind-tossed and lying across his forehead and when he tipped his sunglasses down to look at her, his eyes were warm, but shadowed with fatigue.

If something didn't break in their relationship soon, they'd both be in comas.

“You look like you're thinking deep thoughts.” Sean watched her, and she was glad he couldn't read her thoughts as easily as he could her expression.

“Not deep, just…thoughts.”

“Uh-huh.” Sean looked up and down the narrow coast road. They were three miles outside the village and the only other cars around were the few parked alongside Me
linda's. When he turned his gaze back on her, he pointed out, “You were talking to yourself. Never a good sign.”

Great. Now she had to try to remember if she'd said anything completely embarrassing. But looking into his eyes was making her mind go blank. Probably not a good thing.

“It's only bad if you answer your own questions—or is that laugh at your own jokes?” Oh God, she was babbling. But her stomach was spinning and her mouth was dry. Sean had hardly spoken to her in more than a week, so why was he here now? And why couldn't she calm down? She couldn't stay nervous with him for the next two months.

He took the cloth bag from her hand and peeked inside. “Fruit?” He looked at her and his mouth curved in that half smile of his. “They run out of food at the hotel?”

“No.” She made a grab for the bag, but he swung it out of her reach. “I just like having fresh fruit in the house and it's silly to call room service if I want an orange.”

“Good point.” He took her arm and steered her toward the rental car he had been driving since he got to the island. “You know, my brother Rafe used to live in a hotel. For years. He dug the maid service and the twenty-four-seven room service. But he hasn't missed it at all since marrying Katie. They live in her little cottage down by the beach.”

She was hurrying her steps to keep up with his much longer strides. “Sounds nice—Sean—”

“It is, but Rafe never can leave things alone. He's adding on to the cottage. Building a second story, punching out a wall into the backyard to add a family room, too. Adding all kinds of stuff. Making Katie nuts, of course.”

“Sean—”

“That's how they met, actually,” he said with a laugh,
“we redid her kitchen, and Rafe just never left. Good thing, too. She makes incredible cookies. I'll get her to send us some—”

Melinda didn't know what he was doing or where they were going so she dug her heels in until he stopped to look at her. “I don't need a ride home. My car's parked over there.”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged. “Saw it
and
you when I was driving past. Just leave the car. We'll get someone from the hotel to come pick it up.”

Nothing from him for days and now he was practically kidnapping her. She threw a look behind her at the people and caught them staring after her fondly. No doubt the local gossips would be cooing over this, seeing it all as very romantic when in fact, Melinda had no idea at all what was going on.

“What are you doing, Sean?” she asked, walking beside him again, trying not to think about the heat of his hand on her bare skin. “Where are we going?”

He drew her around to the far side of the red convertible, opened the passenger door, ushered her inside, then dropped the bag of produce onto the backseat. Leaning both hands on the top of the door, he looked down at her and said, “Thought we could go out to the hotel site. You can show me around.”

She frowned and saw her expression reflected back at her in his sunglasses. “You've seen it already, haven't you?”

“Not up close and personal,” he told her, going around to the driver's side and getting in.

Melinda took a long look at him and that twist of longing inside her tightened a little in spite of her best efforts. But she squashed it a moment later. She should just accept his change in attitude. Just go with the flow here and pre
tend the last week of awkward silences had never happened. But she couldn't. She wanted to know
why
he was suddenly acting more like the Sean she had first met than the man he'd been since the wedding.

“Sean, what's going on?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged and started the engine.

Before he could put the car in gear though, she reached out and laid one hand over his. He stilled, pulled his hand free and slowly turned his head to look at her. Dark glasses hid his eyes though, so she had no idea what he might be thinking. After a long minute, he said simply, “I just decided to get over it, okay?”

“Get over it?”

His mouth worked as if he were choosing his words carefully before letting them out. “Look, things got out of hand on our wedding night. We both said some things, and I figure we should let it go. Start over. Spend some time together. Get past this—whatever it is between us. Make the next two months easier on both of us.”

She blew out a breath and smiled. “I'd like that. Until just now, I was actually thinking that maybe you were going to call the whole thing off,” she confessed. “Back out of our deal completely.”

He took off his glasses and looked directly into her eyes so she couldn't help but see the insult written in his gaze. “If you knew me better, you'd know I don't quit. I don't go back on my word once it's given.”

“Okay,” she said and watched as his expression softened. He might be quick to a temper, but it faded just as fast, she thought, and chalked it up as one more thing she'd discovered about her temporary husband.

“So,” he said, offering his hand, “truce?”

She took it, her much smaller hand swallowed by his. Again, there was that delicious flash of heat that seemed
to zip directly from his hand into the center of her chest. But ignoring that heat was the only way to deal with it, so she did. “Truce.”

“Excellent!” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, slapped his glasses back on then turned, put on his seat belt and told her, “Buckle up.”

He put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot, waving to the people at the produce stand as he went. Out on the coast road, the wind slapped at them, but Melinda loved it. Her hair whipped into her eyes, so she gathered it up in one fist and held it at the nape of her neck. She turned her face into the wind and inhaled the salty sea air and the thick, intoxicating scent of the flowering vines along the road. Pink and white and deep red flowers burst from a wall of greenery so thick you could hardly see past them to the hills beyond.

But she didn't need to see it to know what was there. Acres of farmland followed by miles of green, stands of ancient trees and, farther inland, waterfalls. This was her place in the world, and she knew every square inch of it.

Now that she and her husband had a new understanding, the weight of worry and anxiety slid off her shoulders and Melinda felt the best she had since the wedding. She turned her head to glance at him. Even in profile, Sean King looked amazing.