seen all week, and it made her gaze rush away and her hand return to his shoulder.
He looked hungry and compassionate and strong. Strong enough to hang on to. He was utterly gorgeous, this big bad husband of hers. Which had been creating some big bad problems for Beth.
She ached to kiss him, slide her fingers up the thick tendons at his neck, bury her face against his throat and just smell him.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said, quietly, then forced herself to listen to the haunting tune playing while a knot of tension continued growing in her stomach.
“You’re right, let’s not,” he agreed.
She heard the rustle of silk as he slid his hand up her back. Her pulse quickened as his thumb grazed the bare skin.
“You enjoy…dancing?” she asked, starting to pant.
His lazy smile could disarm a regiment. “I would if you’d start moving with me.”
She laughed and swayed a little more, allowing him to press her close enough to be aware of every beautiful, hard part of him. He smelled male, clean. Delicious.
His hands shifted trajectory, sliding down her back, long fingers making goose bumps prick across her bare arms.
“Mother and Kate are staying over tonight,” he murmured as he studied her with scorching eyes. The deliberate brush of his fingers against the start of her buttocks made her catch her breath. “They don’t want to drive at such a late hour to Alamo Heights. I’m afraid you’re going to have to share my room tonight.”
Her breath hitched in her lungs. The thought of being near him was hell. She feared she could resist anything, anyone, but him. Don’t don’t don’t make me lose myself, Landon.
“What about the other room down the hall, the one—”
“That’s my son’s room. And it’s off-limits.”
His son’s room. Her heart stuttered, then her eyes widened in realization. So he didn’t know. He didn’t know, couldn’t speak that way about his son if he knew.
Pain knifed through her at the thought of knowing something so vile about his past that he didn’t. He must believe that Chrystine and Hector’s affair had started after he and Chrystine got married. Beth had once supposed the same, until the day she’d confronted Hector and had learned that he and the woman he was sleeping with apparently went back for years.
She loathed to think Landon didn’t know that Chrystine and Hector had fooled around together before Landon even met her, and that when she ended up pregnant, Landon hadn’t been the only possible father.
He’d only been the most convenient one for her purposes.
Something wrenched painfully inside her stomach at the thought of telling him. She could tell him, yes. That his first wife had been an incredible actress and a very convincing liar. But why open that wound? Why hurt him like that when he’d been wonderful to her?
God, she needed a drink. A whole lot of drinks. A margarita, a martini.
Unaware of why she’d stiffened, Landon eased his hold around her a fraction. “Relax, Bethany. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She shuddered, and for one brief moment, let her eyes drift shut and her stiffness melt away into his strength. “I know.”
And Beth wasn’t going to hurt him, either. Not this man. Not now, and not with this truth.
Eight
O verall, he’d say the wedding was a success.
The reporters had taken shots, most of his friends had departed, and now only family remained, lounging on the twin sofas inside the book-lined study.
Beth was on her fourth glass of champagne. Landon had consumed double that amount. She smiled now as though happy, smiling like…well, he didn’t know what. But her smile was so pretty it made his lips curve, too.
“I’m thinking of something silver…” Beth’s mother, Helen, said.
Everyone made their guesses, and Landon watched his wife pick the cranberries from the nut and dried fruit mix.
Note to self: she likes cranberries.
He kept wondering things, like if she slept with socks or
He looked hungry and compassionate and strong. Strong enough to hang on to. He was utterly gorgeous, this big bad husband of hers. Which had been creating some big bad problems for Beth.
She ached to kiss him, slide her fingers up the thick tendons at his neck, bury her face against his throat and just smell him.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said, quietly, then forced herself to listen to the haunting tune playing while a knot of tension continued growing in her stomach.
“You’re right, let’s not,” he agreed.
She heard the rustle of silk as he slid his hand up her back. Her pulse quickened as his thumb grazed the bare skin.
“You enjoy…dancing?” she asked, starting to pant.
His lazy smile could disarm a regiment. “I would if you’d start moving with me.”
She laughed and swayed a little more, allowing him to press her close enough to be aware of every beautiful, hard part of him. He smelled male, clean. Delicious.
His hands shifted trajectory, sliding down her back, long fingers making goose bumps prick across her bare arms.
“Mother and Kate are staying over tonight,” he murmured as he studied her with scorching eyes. The deliberate brush of his fingers against the start of her buttocks made her catch her breath. “They don’t want to drive at such a late hour to Alamo Heights. I’m afraid you’re going to have to share my room tonight.”
Her breath hitched in her lungs. The thought of being near him was hell. She feared she could resist anything, anyone, but him. Don’t don’t don’t make me lose myself, Landon.
“What about the other room down the hall, the one—”
“That’s my son’s room. And it’s off-limits.”
His son’s room. Her heart stuttered, then her eyes widened in realization. So he didn’t know. He didn’t know, couldn’t speak that way about his son if he knew.
Pain knifed through her at the thought of knowing something so vile about his past that he didn’t. He must believe that Chrystine and Hector’s affair had started after he and Chrystine got married. Beth had once supposed the same, until the day she’d confronted Hector and had learned that he and the woman he was sleeping with apparently went back for years.
She loathed to think Landon didn’t know that Chrystine and Hector had fooled around together before Landon even met her, and that when she ended up pregnant, Landon hadn’t been the only possible father.
He’d only been the most convenient one for her purposes.
Something wrenched painfully inside her stomach at the thought of telling him. She could tell him, yes. That his first wife had been an incredible actress and a very convincing liar. But why open that wound? Why hurt him like that when he’d been wonderful to her?
God, she needed a drink. A whole lot of drinks. A margarita, a martini.
Unaware of why she’d stiffened, Landon eased his hold around her a fraction. “Relax, Bethany. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She shuddered, and for one brief moment, let her eyes drift shut and her stiffness melt away into his strength. “I know.”
And Beth wasn’t going to hurt him, either. Not this man. Not now, and not with this truth.
Eight
O verall, he’d say the wedding was a success.
The reporters had taken shots, most of his friends had departed, and now only family remained, lounging on the twin sofas inside the book-lined study.
Beth was on her fourth glass of champagne. Landon had consumed double that amount. She smiled now as though happy, smiling like…well, he didn’t know what. But her smile was so pretty it made his lips curve, too.
“I’m thinking of something silver…” Beth’s mother, Helen, said.
Everyone made their guesses, and Landon watched his wife pick the cranberries from the nut and dried fruit mix.
Note to self: she likes cranberries.
He kept wondering things, like if she slept with socks or
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