Chapter 16
Jax didn't mind the silence as he drove the short distance from the wellness retreat to the luxury B a stranger in competition with the family business. A stranger who'd had his sights set on acquiring that business.
He inwardly cringed, hoping Ruby hadn't divulged that gem. If she didn't want to stress her sister, telling her his initial plan would've been the way to go.
He parked under a carport and cut the engine. Ruby's eyes instantly opened and she blinked several times before focusing on the house.
Her delighted smile slugged him like a right hook. He'd wanted her to like it. He hadn't wanted her to look at him as if he'd delivered the royal jewels on a platter.
"How did you find this place?"
“It had a lot of five star reviews online.”
"It's gorgeous." Her hand snaked across the console and rested on his, making his heart squirm with unexpected pleasure. "Thanks."
"No worries."
He slid his hand out from under hers on the pretext of opening the door when in reality, he needed to bolt. Feeling this unsettled didn't sit well with him.
He dated women. He didn't feel anything for them.
Heartless, maybe, but why get emotionally involved when he knew from the outset it wouldn’t go anywhere?
Exactly like his marriage, so why the constant edginess that had him wanting to cosset Ruby, touch her, and spend time with her?
Man, he needed to get laid sooner rather than later. Getting their relationship back on a level he understood—physical—would eradicate his funk. A solid plan to execute that he could stick to.
He popped open the trunk, grabbed their bags, and allowed her to precede him up the path to the glaringly blue front door.
"Let me." She took the key from his hand and unlocked the door.
When she didn't move for a good ten seconds, he lowered the bags. "What are you waiting for?"
She rolled her eyes. "For you to carry me over the threshold, dummy."
"You can't be serious."
"Perfectly." She pointed inside. "I'm not setting foot in your little love nest until you carry me inside."
Love nest?
His pretend wife had a warped sense of humour.
She’d made an abrupt about-face, flipping from silent to sassy. Probably covering for the awkwardness of her confrontation with her sister but boy, she’d switched quick.
"What if I have a bad back?"
Her eyes narrowed as he braced his hands in the small of his back. "Do you?"
He couldn't keep a straight face. "No, but I might after carrying you."
"That does it."
She placed her palms flat against his chest and shoved, hard enough to make him stumble.
He captured her hands, using them as leverage to tug her flush against him. "I love it when you're feisty."
"Don't try to sweet-talk me, Back Boy."
He snorted. "Back Boy?"
"If the brace fits."
He laughed, her quick wit turning him on as much as her wriggling to escape his grasp.
"You should smile more often." She touched the corner of his mouth with a fingertip, her touch lingering. He wanted to turn his head a fraction and suck her finger into his mouth, a prelude to what he'd do to the rest of her body.
“Who are you really, Jax Maroney?" She lowered her hand and irrationally, missed her touch. "Because I'm guessing I'll need to know more about the man behind the grumpy mask considering we're married now."
She couldn't have quelled his libido harder if she tried. He didn't want to reveal anything to her. Not his innermost thoughts, fears, or desires.
The only desire he wanted to show her involved the two of them naked.
"You talk too much." He stepped into her personal space, forcing her to back up.
Excitement sparked in her eyes as her mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Talking is healthier than keeping everything locked tight.”
He took another step, and she backed up again. "I don't need you to psychoanalyse me."
"Then what do you need me for?"
"This."
He crushed his mouth to hers, her squeal of surprise quickly giving way to a low moan of pleasure. Like their kiss at the registry office, everything faded until all he could feel and taste was this woman.
His wife.
The wife he wanted tonight to be special for, no matter how much he wanted to take her up against the nearest wall.
He wrenched his mouth from hers, her dazed expression matching his.
"What are you doing?" She grabbed his lapels and shook him. "No sex, remember?"
He traced the curve of her cheek and the contour of her lips before lowering his hand. "This marriage might be a sham, but I figure you deserve a wedding night you’ll never forget."
He meant it.
He'd never met a woman so bold, so forthright, so determined to get what she wanted, even if it meant sacrificing dreams of romance and happily ever after.
While Ruby hadn't alluded to any of that fanciful emotional rubbish, he imagined she'd crave it like the next woman. And man—if half his mine workers had been any indication. Those guys hooked up with a woman and had her up the aisle and pregnant in next to no time.
Wouldn't they have a field day when they discovered the reclusive bachelor had married?
"With sentimental mush like that, you're making it mighty tough for me to keep pushing you away." She blinked and he could've sworn he caught a glimpse of tears.
Hell. He didn't handle waterworks well. He'd emptied too many tissue boxes and changed too many tear-drenched shirts with his mother after Denver had been arrested. No way would he spoil the night he had planned by making his bride cry.
"Then stop resisting and give in." He snagged her hand, tugged her inside, and kicked the door shut. "You know you want to."
Her watery smile tweaked his heart. "You're extraordinarily confident."
"You better believe it, sweetheart." He laid his hands on her shoulders, turned her around in the direction of the living room, and guided her forward. "Go relax. I'll come get you in a few minutes."
"What is this, a waiting room?" She muttered, but headed for the sofa in front of an unlit open fire.
"It'll be worth the wait," he said, the smolder in her glance over her shoulder making him stride to the bedroom in double time.
He knew she'd come around to his way of thinking. That kiss to seal the deal for their marriage arrangement had been prelude to a night she'd never forget.
He'd make sure of it.
He'd booked the Romance Package with the vacation rental company, and when he flung open the door to the bedroom, he braced for the worst. He hadn’t even glanced at what the package included, assuming whatever it entailed, Ruby would love all the hearts and flowers crap.
Surprisingly, the bedroom appeared untouched, without a heart or flower in sight. Modern white furniture—bed, dresser, wardrobe—clean lines, minimal clutter. The ash polished boards gleamed in the downlights, a crimson shag rug at the foot of the bed adding a dash of colour.
He spied a basket of goodies on the dresser with a card attached,
Romance Package in calligraphic purple scrawl.
Curious, and keen to get this evening started, he rummaged through the basket: edible massage oil, ylang-ylang-scented tea lights, Swiss chocolate, two punnets of strawberries, a box of rose petals, and a dozen condoms.
He'd start with the candles and work his way up to the condoms.
He placed the tea lights in strategic positions around the room, cursing as he dropped a match twice before striking it hard enough to light.
He shouldn’t be this nervous. If their kisses had been any indication, they'd burn up the sheets.
With the bonus of no awkward morning-after small talk or coming up with a half-decent excuse to extricate himself from the woman's bed.
With a little luck, they'd be having sex for the next few months on a regular basis.
This time, he dropped the whole damn box of matches.
How on earth did they expect to share a bed, share a marriage, share a life, for any length of time, then walk away at the end as if nothing had happened? He'd done it before, turning his back on Melbourne without a backward glance. Could Ruby?
Her behaviour after seeing her sister, the conflicting emotions he glimpsed before she tried to hide them, spoke volumes. Ruby cared. Cared about her sister, cared about her business, cared full stop.
Would she be so bold and brazen in a few months when their pretend marriage ended and he headed back to Western Australia?
He shoved the matches back into the box with force, breaking three before slowing down and lighting the rest of the tea lights. He snaffled the box of rose petals and the condoms, sprinkling the former on the bed, stashing the latter in both bedside drawers. And an extra few in the bathroom.
Best to be prepared.
He needed to eradicate this uncertainty suffusing him and wild, no-holds-barred sex would do it.
Desperate to shake the jitters and lose himself in her, he headed for the living room, only to pause in the doorway.
His sexy wife lay curled up on the sofa, asleep.
Her head lolled on an armrest, her fancy up-do a rumpled mess, cascading curls everywhere. Her mouth hung open, tiny puffs of air escaping as she exhaled. The faintest dark circles ringed her eyes where she'd rubbed them in fatigue, and his earlier funk intensified tenfold.
He didn't do tenderness.
He didn't do caring.
But at that moment, staring at his exhausted, slumbering wife, he came close to both.