LITMIR.BIZ

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their reality slammed her anew. He was her sworn enemy. Kindness from him was not to be counted on or treasured. It was to be distrusted. Thus, when he looked up at her with an amiable smile on his dark face, she frowned.

      “What?” He sat up straighter and finger-combed his dark hair. “Am I guilty of some awful new crime or do I just have a crumb on my lip? Or nose?”

      As he brushed his mouth and nose with his napkin, she laughed in spite of herself.

      “No.”

      “You want me gone so you can have the kitchen to yourself? Well, I won’t be bullied out of my own house.”

      “I assumed you’d be at the office, avoiding me again … like last night,” she said.

      “Right,” he said, “we’re the weirdo newlyweds who did some very interesting variations on sex—positions that are probably still illegal in some states—on this very table, but now we are supposed to have an aversion to sex.”

      Maybe because he was so preoccupied with sex or the lack of it, she remembered lying naked on the kitchen table in this very room, crying out his name in the heat of her passion. She’d loved him that night, incoherently. With his every touch, with every flick of his tongue, he’d awakened a fire inside her she hadn’t known existed, and the embers of that fire still hadn’t gone out.

      As he stared at the table, she began to sizzle.

      Sensing an advantage when she blushed, he moved his hand back and forth across the smooth finish of the tabletop in the way he might stroke a woman. “You know you could change your mind about that. I won’t object.”

      “But you don’t even like me.”

      “I’m a man.” He ran his hand along the tabletop again, caressing it. “I can compartmentalize. Let’s just say my body likes yours, and it wonders … upon occasion … rather frequently—hell, all the time—how yours feels about mine. If you want the truth, I don’t think I slept a wink last night. I kept thinking of you in your bed and me upstairs sleeping with a cat.”

      She moved to set a kettle boiling on the stove. “You make us sound like we’re no better than animals.”

      “You’re in my house, cute as hell … available. I wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t tempt me.”

      “Even though you hate my father?”

      “He isn’t here. With any luck he’ll be sent to a place where he can’t hurt any more people.”

      Fortunately, the tea kettle whistled. With hands that shook she pulled an egg out of the fridge and placed it in the middle of a pot. As she poured boiling water over it, the egg cracked. She set the pot on the stove top anyway. She was almost glad he’d reminded her of her father’s plight and the satisfaction he took in it. The knowledge helped her build up her defenses.

      “I’m just being honest,” he said. “There’s a bit of the wild in us all. Why else do we have to spend years and years civilizing our young? Why else did we behave like we did that night? On this very table?”

      “Stop ….”

      “You brought out the beast. I think you liked it, too. In fact, I know you did.”

      She wet her lips with her tongue and was too aware of his avid eyes glued to her moist lips. For six weeks she’d been a virtual prisoner in her apartment, hated by all. Loneliness and the desire for companionship had built into an almost palpable need. If he stuck around in the same room where she’d been so crazy to have him, saying he wanted her, she wasn’t sure how well she’d control her attraction for him.

      “Can we please please change the subject?” she pleaded.

      Newspapers rustled as he set his paper aside. “You mean … from sex?” he murmured thickly.

      Afraid he’d see her flushed cheeks again and understand just how much he affected her, she kept her back to him. “Yes.”

      “Okay,” he muttered. “Sure. Hey, here’s some good news for you that has nothing to do with sex. Nowhere in this newspaper did I see any mention of our marriage. Looks like we’re still flying under the radar. When people find out, I’ll be bombarded at the office. No telling who else will fire me.”

      “I’m sorry for ruining your life. If you’ve finished your own breakfast, you don’t have to stay here just to entertain me, you know,” she whispered.

      “I wanted to discuss a few more things—other than sex.”

      The word sent more tingles through her. “Grrrr.”

      He laughed. “I think you’re running as hot as I am. Maybe hotter.”

      “What things did you want to discuss?” she said through gritted teeth, too hatefully aware of her heart racing.

      “For starters, tomorrow I want to make some financial arrangements for you. Open a new account you can sign on, so you won’t feel so dependent on me.”

      “Why would you do that when I imagine you want revenge for all those crimes you believe my father and I committed against you?”

      “I didn’t dream up what you or your father did, so I’m under no illusions about your character. Or his. Especially his. But like you pointed out, you have no money or allies. You’re my wife and you’re carrying my baby. You need to buy things for yourself and our baby.”

      “I couldn’t possibly accept—”

      “Anything from me—the enemy.” His lips had tightened. “I’m afraid you’ll have to. What choice do either of us have? Much as I might want to treat you like a pauper, it would make me look bad. Much as you want to treat me as the enemy, you have no one else who cares as much as I do.

      “Our baby needs a nursery. Supplies. A baby bed. God only knows what else. Am I right?”

      She sighed. “I do want to create a charming nursery. I guess since I always had money, I never thought much about it. My job as an editor didn’t pay much, but it didn’t matter. I loved writing and editing, and I could rely on the trust fund money. So, now that the money’s all gone, I’ve got to get used to a new way of living. And thinking. I’ll need to think about a career.”

      “True. But not now. Until the baby’s born, I’m going to take care of you. And the baby. That’s final.”

      “Do your people always do what you say, when you say?”

      “You’re my wife. My broke, pregnant wife. You’re my responsibility. You don’t have a choice. Why is that so difficult for you to grasp?”

      “Maybe because ours is the last thing from a real marriage.”

      “Right. So, let’s be sure and make ourselves just as miserable as we can at every possible opportunity. Is that your goal?”

      No, this morning she just wanted to stay out of his arms … and his bed. His talking about sex had stirred her up.

      Jake grabbed his paper and stood up.

      Good. She wanted him gone, needed him gone. The sooner, the better. His kindness and concern for her this morning mixed with his sexiness unnerved her. She, who always read too much into kindnesses and into making love, didn’t want to soften toward him.

      It wouldn’t be just sex for her as it would be for him. She would weave all sorts of interlocking emotions around an act that meant next to nothing to him, and each time she went to bed with him, her feelings for him would deepen. Pretty soon she’d be thinking they had a real relationship. He would be thinking she was easy and very replaceable the minute their baby was born. She would be thinking he would become a real husband and father.

      Theirs was a marriage of convenience. She was living with him for the baby’s sake, so he might grow attached to it even before it was born.

      For her own emotional safety,

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