The Marriage Bargain

Page 21

His head popped up from his plate like she suddenly had his full attention. “You’re probably right. We have to allow for some flexibility and maybe some mistakes along the way.”
She nodded and forked off the last mouthful. “Exactly. So, you’ll come?”
“Sure.”
His total turnaround made her pause, but she ignored it. Her empty bowl mocked her. Damn, what had she done?
“Funny you mentioned the contract,” he said. “A little problem came up but it’s solved now.”
Maybe she’d do some extra work on the treadmill. And lift some weights. Maybe even go back to yoga class.
“I wasn’t going to say anything but I wanted to be honest. You probably won’t even care.”
She’d call Maggie tomorrow and go to kickboxing. The class burned more calories and was good for self-defense.
“Gabriella kissed me.”
Her head shot up. “What did you say?”
He shrugged. “She called and wanted to meet me. She said she’s moving to California. I didn’t initiate, so I guess it was her idea of a good-bye kiss. End of story.”
Her eyes narrowed. His seemingly casual attitude masked a deeper truth. She also knew the way to get it was to play the whole thing off.
“A good-bye kiss, huh? Well, that doesn’t sound too threatening.” She watched him practically slump in the chair with relief. She pretended to be engaged with the leftover leaves from her salad to take the pressure off. “Cheek or lips?”
“Lips. Quick, though.”
“Okay. So no tongue, right?”
The chair squeaked with his definite squirm. The son of a bitch was busted. “Not really.”
“Sure?”
“Maybe a little. Happened so fast I don’t remember.”
Even when they were kids, he’d sucked at lying. He got in trouble every time and Maggie escaped punishment because she was damn good. Nick’s nose practically grew and screamed the truth to the world.
“Okay. The main thing is you told me the truth. Where did this happen?”
“Down by the river.”
“After your meeting?”
“Yep.”
“She called on your cell phone.”
“I told her not to come but she said it was important so I waited for her. I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her.”
“Then she kissed you and you pushed her away.”
“Right.”
“Where were her hands?”
Confusion muddied his features. He seemed to think it over as if afraid it was a trick question. “What do you mean?”
“Her hands. Around your neck, waist, where?”
“Around my neck.”
“Where were your hands?”
“Before or after I pushed her away?”
Bingo.
“Before.”
“Around her waist.”
“Okay. So it sounds like it was a while before you finally pushed her away, and tongue was involved, and her body was plastered to yours for about how long?”
He looked at her empty Scotch glass with lust but answered the question. “Not long.”
“One minute? A second?”
“A couple of minutes. Then I pushed her away.”
“Yes, you said that already.”
She got up from the table and started clearing the dishes. He hesitated as if unsure what to do, but remained seated. An awkward silence descended. Alexa finished the task without speaking and let the tension build. She almost heard the visible snap as he broke.
“You have no reason to be upset.”
She stacked the dishes in the washer, turned the dial, then turned her attention back to the refrigerator. With methodical motions, she took out the ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and cherries.
“Why would I be upset? The kiss was nothing, even if you did break the contract.”
“We just said that sometimes the contract can’t be followed to the letter. What are you doing?”
“Making dessert. So, what did Gabriella do when you pushed her away?”
She continued creating the perfect sundae and let him dangle in discomfort. “She was upset because I rejected her.”
“Why’d you push her away, Nick?”
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Because we made some promises. Even if we’re not sleeping together, we agreed I wouldn’t cheat.”
“Very logical. I’m surprised you were able to think so clearly after such a kiss. With me, I understand. But Gabriella seems to inspire a more passionate response.”
His mouth dropped open. She swished the whipped cream and drizzled a few cherries on top, then stood back to admire her creation.
“You think I react more passionately to Gabriella?”
She lifted one shoulder. “It was obvious the night I met her you two tore up the sheets together. We don’t have that problem. The only times you’ve ever kissed me was when you were pissed off or bored.”
“Bored?” He rubbed his face with his hands and tore his fingers through his hair. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “I don’t believe this. You have no idea how I was feeling when Gabriella kissed me.”
A sliver of ice pierced through her heart, as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel. This time there was no bleeding, just a numb acceptance the man she married would always lust after a supermodel, and not her. He’d always be weak enough to grab one last taste before his damn ethics took over. He was legally faithful, but mentally a cheater.
She was an afterthought and he’d never want her as completely as his ex. At least, not physically.
The anger took hold, fierce and satisfying, as she stared at her perfect chocolate sundae. Nicholas Ryan worshipped logic and reason and had carefully thought through her response. He used honesty because he was a fair man. What enraged her was his incapability of seeing her for a woman who had every right to be pissed off when she found out her husband kissed his ex-lover. He expected her to be calm, civil, politely forgive his indiscretion, and move on.
Screw him.
With one graceful motion, she lifted the heavy, dripping bowl, and dumped it on top of his head.
He let out a yelp and leaped up, knocking the chair over, his face registering pure disbelief as chocolate ice cream and syrup and cream dripped over his head, slid down his cheeks, and tunneled into his ears.
“What the hell?” His roar was filled with confusion and irritation and an honest emotion that made her feel immediately better.
With satisfaction, she wiped her sticky hands on the dishtowel and stepped back. She even managed a pleasant smile. “Being the clearheaded, reasonable man you’re supposed to be, I expected you to push Gabriella away and honor the contract. Instead, you made out with her in public, at the river, with your tongue in her mouth and your hands on her body. This is my clearheaded, reasonable response to your betrayal, you son of a bitch. Enjoy your dessert.”
She turned on her heel and walked up the stairs.
…
A week later, Nick watched his wife work the room and admitted he’d made a mistake.
Big time.
If he was a lesser man, he’d wish to be taken back in time and re-enact the scene with Gabriella and the kiss. He’d push her away, proudly tell his wife of his actions, and enjoy a different result. Since he despised such weak-hearted desires, there was only one recourse left.
Suffer.
Alexa walked amongst the guests like a glittering peacock, dressed in bold scarlet instead of the sophisticated black the elite crowd favored. Her hair was pinned up with loose curls left to fall free around her neck and shoulders. Though the weather turned toward winter and whipped the valley with an icy wind, she scorned Mother Nature by donning a silky, slippery material, with a low-cut neckline and spaghetti straps to hold the whole thing up. At least the length of her skirt fell to the floor and hid her legs. But as she walked, a glimmer of silver shone around her ankle, and revealed high strappy red heels that wouldn’t do well on icy sidewalks.
She practically dared him to say something when she appeared at the foot of the stairs, but this time he kept his mouth shut, commented politely on how nice she looked, and escorted her into the car. The whole episode was accompanied by the cold silence that had drifted into a full week.
Aggravation ripped through him. She’d been the one to dump a bowl of ice cream on him. Did she apologize? No. Just treated him with a neutral cordiality that made him nuts. She stayed out of his way, kept to her bedroom, and remained quiet at dinner.
Nick didn’t want to know why her distance made him want to grab her and force her to show some emotion. He didn’t want to analyze the loneliness eating at his insides, or why he missed their chess games or their fights or just hanging around with her in the evening. He missed the annoying calls at work regarding Otto or begging him to adopt a dog from her shelter.
Instead, he had what he’d wanted in the first place.
A wife in name only. A business partner who kept to herself and led her own life.
He hated it.
The memory of their last kiss flashed before his vision. But her words puzzled him. Didn’t she realize how much he ached for her?
He’d thought the night the police arrived had proved his interest. Instead, she’d thrown Gabriella out as proof he could never desire her in the same way. God help him, he’d never wanted Gabriella the way he wanted his wife. Never dreamed about Gabriella or ached to touch her or laugh with her. Never wanted to fight or play stupid games or have a life with Gabriella.
What was happening to him?
Nick drained his glass and moved across the room.
Maybe it was time to find out.
…
“Husband alert.”
Alexa looked up and saw Nick cut away from the crowd. She ignored him and focused her attention on Michael, and the amusement that glinted in his eyes. She wagged her finger at her new friend. “Behave.”
“Don’t I always, cara?”
“This is the second time tonight you’ve kept me from my husband.”
Their heels clicked on the polished wood floors as he led her toward the back study. His home was decorated in rich earth and burgundy tones, with touches of gilded mirrors, tapestries, and smooth marble sculptures to break up the flow of polished elegance that permeated the rooms. Opera played on the stereo system piped throughout the floors. Michael had decorated with an underlying sensuality Alexa appreciated.
“Then I am doing my job well, signora. He makes you sad tonight, I can tell.”
She paused and looked up at him. For the first time, she allowed the raw emotion of Nick’s confession to escape. It had been difficult pretending not to care this past week. “We had a fight.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Men suck.”
He nodded with flourish. “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes when we wear our hearts on our sleeves, we are wonderful. But mostly we are scared of breaking open ourselves to another.”
“Some men never do.”
“Yes. Some never do. You must keep trying.”
She smiled at him. “I’m giving you my friend Maggie’s number. Promise me you’ll call her.”
He gave a long sigh. “If this will make you happy, I shall call her and invite her to dinner.”