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“There’s plenty of food,” Ryan pointed out.
“I’ll take it from here. Goodbye, brother.” She pushed on his chest. He laughed.
Their tussle was brief. Cassie won it handily in spite of her size, but that had more to do with whatever she hissed in his ear than with brute strength. Ryan sent a last, longing glance at the table of food before he gave up and went to the door, saying he’d see them both back in Dallas. “I’ll even call Mom for you,” he told Cassie with a grin. “Let her know what you’ve been up to.”
As soon as the door closed behind Ryan, Gideon expected Cassie to launch into whatever harangue she’d been saving up for him. Instead, she stood there next to the door, looking uncertain—an experience that must have been as disconcerting for her as it was for him. Cassie had never been awkward around him before.
It was her own fault if she felt awkward now, he told himself. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat before we try to settle anything else.”
They sat opposite each other at the white-draped table. Silence stretched out between them for another minute while Gideon pretended to want the eggs he methodically ate. Cassie spent the whole minute buttering a croissant and not looking at him. Sunshine gleamed off the ornate handle of the butter knife, and off the smooth simplicity of her bright hair. “Gideon,” she said at last, setting down the mangled croissant and meeting his eyes. “Gideon, listen to me. I did not marry you because I want, or need, your money.”
“Don’t.” Anger roiled in his stomach, and he set down his fork. “Dammit, Cassie, I know how you grew up, how little money there was and how hard your mother worked to keep a roof over your heads. I can understand you wanting more. God knows I understand that. And you’ve always been impulsive, so maybe the big surprise is that you’ve never run off to Vegas before now. Just don’t pretend. Dammit, don’t pretend!”
Her mouth turned down. “Oh, Gideon. Do you really think so little of women, or yourself? Do you think the only reason a woman would marry you is for your money?”
Her misunderstanding bothered him. He stood. “I’m not down on women, Cassie. The way I see it, men and women are both programmed by our biologies, but the operating systems aren’t the same. For a woman, a successful mating is one that provides her and her children with a strong provider. In today’s world that translates into money. That isn’t wrong, it’s just nature at work.”
“A ‘successful mating,”’ she repeated slowly, taking the napkin from her lap and laying it on the table. “And just what constitutes a ‘successful mating’ in terms of a man’s biology?”
He frowned. He didn’t seem to be getting his point across. Her expression made him think of a pot about to boil. “Evolution has geared men toward multiple sexual partners, since that spreads a man’s seed—”
She shoved back from the table so hard it wobbled, spilling coffee from Gideon’s cup onto the white cloth. “I guess that means last night was thoroughly unsuccessful for both our biologies, then, wasn’t it? That,” she flung at him as she started to pace, “is the most disgusting theory I’ve ever heard. Of all the self-serving justifications for infidelity, that just about tops the list.”
His eyes followed her as she paced. He’d always thought leprechauns would move the way Cassie did—quick, supple, efficient. “Calm down. I’m not promoting infidelity. Animals are victims of their biology. People aren’t. A man who lacks the willpower to keep his word isn’t much of a man. After all, men require fidelity from their wives so we’ll know whose children we’re raising. We have to be prepared to reciprocato.”
She paused in front of the window. The hard, white light admitted by the gauzy sheers surrounded her like an edgy aura. “Oh, you do, huh?”
He nodded. “It’s only fair. A woman wants to know her man comes only to her for sex, because sex is a powerful tool for keeping a male contented. A contented male is more likely to provide well for his family. Women—”
She screeched in rage.
“—are notoriously emotional about this sort of thing,” he finished, eyeing her cautiously. “But it is really quite logical.”
“I am not emotional.” She glared at him, her hands fisted at her sides. “I am reasonable. Calm. Logical. And I’m going to very reasonably explain to you why all your stupid logic is a pile of horse manure.”
The smile that broke over his face surprised them both. “I won’t be bored,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Whatever else can be said about this marriage we’ve gotten ourselves into for the next year, it won’t be boring.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “We are not staying married.”
Oh, she was an O’Grady, all right. Stubborn to the core. But he knew her weakness. “Not indefinitely,” he agreed. “But I’ve no intention of destroying my friendship with Ryan by kicking his little sister out the day after the wedding. Even if that is what you want.”
“Ryan wouldn’t...” She drifted off uncertainly.
“You know him better than that. Ryan’s as good a friend as a man can have, but his first loyalty is to his family, not to me. How do you think. he’ll react if he thinks I’ve treated you badly?” He started toward her. “It’s not as if I’d blame him, either. I do remember parts of yesterday afternoon and evening, Cassie. I know what you expect from our bargain. You’ve had to spend too much of your time in dead-end jobs instead of painting.” He stopped in front of her. “I told you I’d give you everything you wanted if you would marry me. I’m not a man to go back on my word.”
Gideon studied the stubborn set of her jaw and decided he didn’t mind her obstinacy. He’d never objected to a challenge. “I’ve no intention of letting you go back on your word, either.” He moved closer.
She didn’t back away, but she wanted to. He could tell by the nervous way her tongue flicked over her lips. “Stop smiling like that,” she ordered.
“Like what?”
“Like a cat waiting. outside a mouse hole.”
His smile broadened. “As I recall, you always liked cats.”
“What does that have to do with—” Her breath caught audibly when he moved even closer.
Too close. Gideon stopped with a bare inch between their bodies. If he’d thought to dominate her, to intimidate her with the sheer force of his size, into his way of thinking, that thought fled at the feeling he saw flash across her face.
Desire. Innocent, but not simple, tangled up as it was in the shifting colors of those changeable eyes as she looked up at him, defiant, wary—and obviously unaware of what she’d just given away. And if Cassie’s breath had caught with sudden, unwelcome arousal at his nearness, Gideon lost his breath altogether.
She wants me. Cassie wants me.
His world shifted with that realization. Desire turned to need, to an aching imperative. He understood for the first time how a woman could drive a man to his knees...because Cassie, fey little Cassie with the fiery hair, was a woman. Not a girl. She was twenty-eight, not sixteen as she had been the first time he’d felt this way, not off limits, not forever inaccessible... oh, no, not inaccessible at all, judging by the look in her eyes.
The predator in Gideon roared to the surface of his brain while heat exploded in his body from the groin outward. Mine, he thought, already hard, impossibly ready. He reached out.
Reason didn’t rise and reassert itself. The flicker of uncertainty in her eyes didn’t keep him from grabbing roughly at what he wanted. Fear did.
His, not hers.
The fear didn’t even have to wholly surface to send shock waves through him. Like a leviathan at the bottom of a lake it stirred, and Gideon’s hand faltered just as he touched the place where the silk of her sleeve ended and the silky flesh of her arm began. I almost lost control, he thought. With the conscious thought came a dim amazement as the fear settled back into the murk.
Arousal still pulsed through him, making the tips of his fingers extraordinarily sensitive. That must have been why her skin felt so good to him, why he couldn’t resist stroking it lightly. He watched her eyes darken in response, and felt a flare of triumph.
She wanted him. He wanted her, too—but he could control his desires. He had to. “Give our agreement a chance, Cassie.” He slid his fingers down to her wrist and toyed with the delicate skin over her pulse point. “Be my bride. Live with me. Let me... take care of you.”
Cassie’s pulse was pounding. She knew Gideon could feel it. She wanted him to feel it, wanted, with a power that held her immobile, for him to go on touching her. Easily, naturally, she gave herself up to the feeling. “You just don’t want to admit you made a mistake,” she said, her voice husky. Cassie saw no contradiction between arguing with him and being aroused by him. “You’re not very flexible, Gideon. You think that because you’re married, however—” Her breath hitched as his fingers slid back up her arm, dragging tingles behind them like the frothy wake of a boat. “However accidental that marriage was, you think you should stay married. Stubborn.”
“Consistent,” he corrected. His fingertips slid up under the sleeve of her shirt. The small invasion felt unbearably intimate, as if he’d found some secret place On her body. “I’m a very consistent man.”
“It’s not logical,” she insisted as his fingers trailed around to the inside of her arm...lightly. Ever so lightly. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. “You don’t want to be married to me.”
His mouth, that beautiful, sensual mouth, tilted up at one corner. “Don’t I?” When his fingertips made a little circle on her arm, his knuckles grazed the side of her breast.
Oh, my. She swallowed so she wouldn’t gasp. Or moan. “You were going to marry the Icicle. I mean Melissa. You got drunk because you couldn’t marry her.”
His fingers stopped moving. His eyes went still with the dark, chill quiet of a frozen pond at night. Deliberately, his eyes fixed on hers, he repeated the motion of a moment before, circling the skin on her arm with his fingertips...circling the side of her breast with his knuckles. “You’re not sure if you can trust me, are you, Cassie?”
“It’s not very... consistent...of you,” she managed to say, “marrying me when you wanted her.”
He abandoned the pretense of rubbing her arm. His knuckles skimmed up the side of her breast. “I don’t want her now.” Slowly his hand went down. again. Up.
Helplessly her eyes closed as the undertow caught her, dragging her along like a shellfish tumbled by the tide across a gravelly ocean bed—a rough place in spite of the lightness of his caress, a place of confusion and sharp, conflicting currents.
Those hard, seemingly casual knuckles traced the curve of her breast, dipping under it, coming close to the nipple on the way up. Half of her breast seemed to catch the heat from his hand and reflect it back at him. The other half was cold, aching, bereft. His touch skimmed under her breast, around, closer to the tip, nearly touching it...nearly...circling...
“Gideon—?”
Her own longing forced her eyes open. He wasn’t looking at her face anymore. He stared openly at her breasts, at the bumps. her nipples made beneath the silk—the nipples he’d made harden, but refused to touch.
She grabbed his wrist. Her breath came hard, as if she’d been running. She didn’t know if she was going to shove his arm away or move his hand where she needed it. “What do you want?” she demanded hoarsely. “I have to know what you want from this marriage.” Sex? she thought wildly. He’d never wanted her before. Maybe his body remembered last night, though, even if his mind didn’t, because he wanted her now. Was sex enough to begin a marriage with? Could she accept it, if that was all he wanted from her?
Could she refuse?
Slowly his gaze left her breasts, sliding up again to her face. But she couldn’t read anything in his eyes, nothing but the settled darkness that spoke of both passion and control, a mixture Cassie couldn’t understand. “One year,” he said. “Give me one year to keep my word to you. Then we’ll end it.”
The pain was sharp enough to send her shooting to the surface. She sucked in air as if she’d actually been underwater, and stepped back. “An annulment would—”
He was shaking his head before she finished getting the word out of her mouth. “No. Not now. Not ever.”
Why? Why would he prefer divorce to—unless, she thought with an awakening flick of temper, he wanted to have her in his bed for that year.
That was it, she realized. The man had decided he wanted her, therefore he would have her. For a year.
She tried to step back. His hands slid to her waist and stopped her.
His eyes were unfathomable as they met hers. His harsh face gave nothing away, but his hands spread out, claiming more of her. His thumb almost brushed the underside of her breast. Heat arrowed through her, reminding her of passion... and frustration. “I’m not going to agree to an annulment,” he said. “Nor to a divorce. Not yet. Will you fight to be free of me, Mermaid?”
His eyes are so dark, she thought. So dark and filled with answers and questions she couldn’t guess, reasons and motives he didn’t want her to see. But for a moment as his fingers stirred her subtly, powerfully, she thought she saw past the control to the man beneath. A man who wanted her. A man who could be hurt.
“I guess,” she said, her voice damnably unsteady, “I’ll give it a try.”
She saw triumph, quickly masked, flare in Gideon’s eyes, and looked away. She wished she knew just how much of a fool she was being. How much had he manipulated her? With his touch, yes—he’d used his skill and her own hunger against her. She acknowledged that. But the other? Had she seen past the surface into the vulnerable man beneath—or had he let her have that glimpse, because on some level he knew that it was the one sure way to get what he wanted from her?
Three
When the door to Cassie’s apartment closed behind her at twelve-thirty that afternoon, she was alone.
Thank God.
She leaned her back against the door and looked at her haven, badly in need of this chance to catch her breath. She’d driven here from the airport, where her car had been parked. Gideon—her husband—had taken a limo to his apartment. A place she’d never seen. The place she was supposed to move into this afternoon. A moving company would be here soon to pack up her things, most of which would go into storage. Gideon had insisted on arranging it.
Exhaling with a whoosh, she sank to the floor, then just sat there, dazed, looking around the room that had been home for the past five years.
Cassie’s one-room apartment took up half of the converted third floor of a narrow old house in a part of Dallas the yuppies and preservationists hadn’t gotten around to saving yet. She’d collected its furnishings from flea markets and the occasional going-out-of-business sale. Because she loved textures, she had both wicker and wooden furniture. Because she loved color, both wicker and wood were painted in stained-glass colors, and the braided rug on the oak floor could have competed with Joseph’s coat of many colors. A huge, handwoven wall hanging on the north wall mixed feathers, yarn, rope, string and shells in shades of cream, turquoise and rusty red. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held books and other important objects. In one corner her banana-colored sheets and turquoise spread dipped to the floor from the sides of her unmade bed.
She looked at that bed. Only yesterday morning she’d been running late and decided not to make it up before leaving for work. Yesterday morning, when she was still single.
Cassie’s room was otherwise clean and tidy. She might thrive on chaos, but order, she firmly believed, had its place, and clean dishes were almost as important as clean paint brushes. Both the tidiness and the mismatched furniture suited her, as did the whole room full of comfortably worn objects—objects that were hers. And movers would come today, pack up everything but her clothes and toiletries, and put it all in storage.
She considered blaming her brother for her predicament. He’d pulled her aside in that hotel room and said that it was time to either fish or cut bait. If she wanted Gideon, she had him—for a year. If she didn’t want him badly enough to risk trying to keep him, she’d better get serious about getting over him.
Cassie looked at the one unabashedly messy area of the room. Between two windows sat her easel with the newly prepared canvas she’d planned to start on this weekend. Finished paintings leaned against the wall and the legs of the big, ugly table that held her painting supplies. Beneath easel and table stretched a paint-spattered drop cloth.
She thought wistfully that it would be lovely not to have to work. To paint all day. If this were a real marriage... But as things were, there was no way she could just live off Gideon. Maybe she could find something part-time...
Feet thudded on the outside stairs that led up to her apartment. Cassie winced. Her moment of privacy was over. The noisy feet paused at the second floor landing, where Cassie’s friend Moses lived. Cassie heard the knock that landed on Mo’s door and the husky female voice that called out, “Come on, Mo! Cassie’s back. Her car is out front.”
With a sigh Cassie pushed to her feet and stepped back from the door. There was no point in protesting the invasion that was about to occur. And they were, after all, her best friends.
The owner of that distinctive female voice hollered, “Come on!” at Mo. In a rushed clatter of feet she arrived at Cassie’s door and threw it open without knocking.
“Cassie!” Jaya Duncan stopped just inside the open door, hands on her skinny hips, her full skirts swishing around her ankles from the force of her arrival. “What the hell did you think you were doing, leaving that ‘won’t be home tonight’ message on my machine last night?”
“Keeping you from worrying?” Cassie offered. Knowing Jaya would be singing at the club at that hour, she’d taken thirty seconds to call from the airport. If her message had been rather sparse on details, well, she’d been in a hurry.
“Hah!” Jaya said. “You robbed me of hours of sleep, wondering what you were up to.”
Since Jaya was, as usual, vibrating with enough energy for two people, Cassie grinned unrepentantly. “You never bother to tell me when you’re going to stay out all night with your passion-of-the-month.”
“That’s different.” Jaya flicked one elegant hand dismissively. “I do that sort of thing. You don’t. Besides, you aren’t even seeing anyone. So where were you?”
Cassie was granted a brief reprieve when another figure, tall and slim and male, appeared behind Jaya. “Cassie,” Mo said, smiling that slow smile of his. “I’m glad to see you got back in one piece, in spite of Jaya’s proclamations of disaster.”
. Cassie smiled back. Her two friends couldn’t have made a greater contrast. Mo was quiet and steady, with gentle eyes, a big nose, and a fair complexion that suited his curly blond hair. Jaya’s exotic looks came from combining a Hindu mother with a Scots-Irish-Mexican father. Her skin was dusky, her dark hair as thick and glossy as a wig, and she was bossy as all get-out. She and Cassie had been friends since the second grade.
In addition, Jaya was thoroughly, enthusiastically heterosexual. Mo wasn’t.
“So where were you?” Mo asked, moving Jaya aside so he could come in.
Cassie sighed. “I was in Vegas, actually,” she said. “I got married.”
“M-m-married?” Jaya looked from Cassie to Mo and back. “Cassie?”
Cassie nodded and held up her left hand, fingers spread to show her ring.
“Oh, my God.”
“Those were Gideon’s words,” Cassie muttered.
“Gideon,” Jaya repeated. “Gideon Wilde. You married him? You actually married Gideon Wilde? Oh, my God.”
“Isn’t he the man you told me about?” Mo asked. Mo’s lover had left him six months ago, about the time Cassie heard about Gideon’s engagement. They’d sat up with a couple of bottles of wine and talked their way into morning. “The one who was engaged to someone else?”
She grimaced. “He isn’t engaged now. She broke off with him a few days ago.”
“Talk about rebound,” Jaya said. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. You actually married him. How? Where? And you didn’t tell me! You didn’t even invite me!”
“You were singing at the club by then,” Cassie said. “And everything happened so fast—”
“Did you drug him? How did you get him to agree?”
“He asked me,” Cassie said, injured. “And I’ll have you know I didn’t say yes right away, either.” It had taken Gideon and Ryan working together almost a whole hour to get her to agree.
It hadn’t taken Gideon on his own that long to get her to set aside her idea of an annulment. Of course, he hadn’t exactly played fair about how he persuaded her.
She really ought to be upset about that.
