Chapter 5 #2
"And here we still are, hitched. I don't believe in knocking my head against a brick wall.
One, it would only get my head bashed in and two, a complete waste of time.
The powers that count already decided our fate.
Sure, I could have refused and lose everything I damn well worked to accomplish, branch out and start my own company.
Because I sure as hell wouldn't dream of working for the competition.
Or I could fall in line and make the best of a bad situation. "
Her gaze swept around the pristine kitchen. "It's a nice setup. We have lots of space where we can avoid bumping into each other. I love my work, and I spend a lot of time doing it. I enjoy coming up with designs that appeal to the eye. I have my own space. I cook sometimes because it relaxes me."
She smiled, the dimples peeping through. "Don't take that as an invitation or think that I intend to play the domesticated wife. There's a housekeeper who will come in after the holidays. We can choose whether to get along or not. I don't really care."
He had lost his appetite. Pushing the sandwich aside, he picked up his wine glass. "It's that cut and dried to you?"
"Yeah."
She finished the wine. "Has to be."
She rose and went to put the glass away. "Torturing yourself will give you an ulcer and put lines in that pretty face of yours."
He braced when she walked around to stand next to him. "The actress would not like that."
She patted his cheek slowly. "I'm not a complete bitch, honey. I can be, but I'm not, most of the time. Good night."
He watched her walk away, noticed the sway of generous hips.
He had spent half the time trying not to stare at the nipples poking through the shirt and was incensed that what he felt wasn't disgust, but desire, plain and simple.
And when she laughed, he felt dazzled and blindsided.
Drinking the wine down, he felt ashamed and guilty that he was supposed to be in love with Carly and was lusting after a woman he was supposed to despise.
And there was admiration deep inside his gut.
She was cool, sophisticated and collected.
He knew her history. Knew how her mother treated her. The woman had been all over him, flirting and making it obvious she was open to a relationship. And her father, well, he was a different story. Pushing from the counter, he went to put his glass away.
Bracing against the counter, he looked outside.
There was an arbor with wisterias twining through the slats.
She was right about the place. It was a very nice setup and enough room for two people to avoid each other.
That's exactly what he was going to do. He had his work, a prominent position.
He was Kyle McCreary, heir to the entire thing, well, most of it.
And he was going to continue seeing Carly, would find a way to see her, be with her.
Because he fiercely reminded himself. He did not have the hots for the woman he had been forced to wed.
It was a fluke. She was obviously naked under the shirt, and it had been a normal reaction for a heterosexual male. And what the hell was she doing parading around the place half naked?
Plopping down again, he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck.
He was tired, bone-deep weary. He was going back to his suite and try to get some sleep.
She had made some very good points. They could coexist and be okay.
But one other thing stood out, and he was trying not to dwell on it.
Sex. With her. With the hope and intention of getting her pregnant.
His breath whooshed out, and he tried valiantly not to remember the shape of her nipples or the length of her legs.
It meant nothing to him. She meant nothing to him.
"It's stress, just stress and lack of sex. That's all."
Pushing from the chair, he marched from the room after turning out the light.
*****
Shopping was out of the question, of course.
Black Friday's deals weren't something that had ever appealed to her.
And she was restless and felt trapped. They were alone until after the holiday and she had spent the night twisting and turning, every bit conscious of the fact that he was right there down the hall.
So, she had decided to go and see her brother. She was dressed and ready to go when her phone rang. Hissing out an impatient sigh, she picked the phone up and stared at the name. Her mother was calling her. Ignoring the call would only have her persisting.
"Mother."
Her voice was formal.
"Darling."
She gushed. "I know I must be intruding, but since this is such an unusual situation, I figured I would not be interrupting."
The cattiness was unmistakable. "I'm having people over. Some friends and a few acquaintances. How would you and that delicious husband of yours like to pop on over?"
Her brows lifted, and cynicism took root. "I'm afraid that's not possible."
She offered sweetly. "Kyle and I," she opened the door just as he was going down the stairs. His name on her lips stopped him. "Darling, my mother wanted us to come over for a party. I was about to tell her that we have plans."
He stared at her askance. "Intimate dinner for two. Italian. And then we plan to spend the rest of the day watching old black and white movies. Right?"
He had no idea what to say and for a second, looked blank.
"Right?" she prodded.
"Er, yes. That's the plan."
"Hear that, Mother? These newlyweds have plans."
"Oh. But I thought, the marriage is not real. You--"
"We decided to make the best of it. Darling," she beamed at her puzzled husband. "Go and order the food and pick out the movie. I'll be right there."
He stared at her a few seconds longer and shook his head. "Happy to. I'll be waiting."
"I have to go."
She said, her voice casual. "But do enjoy the party."
She hung up before her mother could respond. Shoving the phone into the side zipper of her tote, she made her way down the stairs and saw him waiting for her in the hallway.
He was wearing jeans and a thin black sweater that made his golden tan glow.
"Want to tell me what that was?"
She shrugged. "Just me trying to get out of an unexpected invitation."
She dug through her tote, and he wondered what the hell she carried in what looked to be the size of Texas.
Her hair was a mass of snapping coils, the ends tipped in bright red tumbling around her shoulders.
The snug leaf-green sweater fitted snugly.
Her black leather boots covered black jeans and came to her knees. "Anyway, thanks for playing ball."
"Might I ask where you're off to?"
She sent him an amused stare. "Hanging out with my brother. He's off today. He's making his famous fried chicken and potato salad."
She eyed him. "Looks like you're going out too."
"Yes."
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
"The actress?"
"None of your business."
Her brows lifted. "You're my husband. I have a right to know."
He was about to blast her, when he saw the amused light in her spectacular eyes. "Go to hell." He muttered.
"Aah."
He braced when she stepped in front of him.
Her scent wafted around him and enveloped him.
She was wearing pale peach on her lips. She was wearing heels.
Her eyes were on line with his. When she lifted a hand to cup his face, he had to force himself to stand his ground.
"Don't forget to be discreet. And use a rubber. "
Pinching his cheek lightly, she stepped back. "Don't wait up."
He said nothing as she went to the closet and selected a long, black leather jacket. And he had to fight the urge to help her on with it. When she left, her scent lingered, pissing him off.
*****
"Something smells heavenly and I..." her voice trailed off when she stepped into the kitchen and saw her brother in an intimate embrace.
"I, I let myself in. Hi."
She glanced at her brother before directing her gaze to the tall, slim dark-haired man who stepped back from the embrace. "You didn't tell me you had company."
Matthew sent her a pleading look. "This is Andre Williamson. He's an attorney. We, ah, we met working a case together several months ago."
The man moved forward, his smile easy and relaxed. "I've heard so much about you."
She took the hand but kept her expression cool and guarded. "That's funny. I haven't heard anything about you."
"That's on me."
Matthew moved towards her. "Andre wanted to, wants to go public."
"But your brother is afraid of the consequences."
"He should be."
Ingrid dropped her tote on a chair. "Grandfather would eat you alive and my brother would lose his inheritance, his very significant inheritance. You know who he is, of course."
"Stop--"
"Part of the very powerful Ryder family."
Andre interrupted Matthew smoothly. "I don't care about his money and having money of my own and family pressures, I know exactly how it is. I'm in love with your brother and it's that simple."
Ignoring the fire in her brother's eyes, she trained hers on the man standing next to him. "Nothing is ever that simple and in our family, you'd better believe it."
She sighed and turned to look at her brother. "You could have told me."
"Andre was out of the country for a month, and I told him we need to end things. He came back unexpectedly and insisted on coming here."
Matthew rubbed his hand over his cheek. "I've been fighting my feelings for him, torturing us both."
He turned to look at the guy and the expression on his face twisted Ingrid's belly into knots. This was love, she thought with a pang.
"I'm not sure I want to fight anymore."
Turning back to his sister, he sent her a resolute look. "If you're uncomfortable--"
"I love you."
She forced a smile. "And there's no way in hell I'm going without having my chicken and potato salad."
The relief on his handsome face made her want to weep.
"I knew you only came for the food."
Stepping towards her, he wrapped her into his arms and whispered. "Thank you."
She hugged him back, sending a look at the attractive man standing there, a look with a warning that says, hurt him and you answer to me. With a nod of understanding, he smiled.