Читать книгу Texan’s Wedding-Night Wager / The Oilman’s Baby Bargain: Texan’s Wedding-Night Wager - Michelle Celmer - Страница 12

“So, you’ll come to Lance and Kate’s reception with me?”

Cara turned to Kevin before entering her hotel room. He stood close, boxing her in by the door. Her face still glowed from the attention he’d paid to her at the lake, and the taste of her lips still lingered on his mouth.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” she asked coyly.

Kevin winced and faked a stab wound to the heart. “You’re killing me, Cara.”

Cara nibbled on her lower lip with indecision. She’d had him at his boiling point. It had been all he could do not to make love to her on that picnic table tonight. Desire and lust combined made for a heavy aphrodisiac.

“Why do you want me to go?”

Kevin tilted his head and spoke in a serious tone. “Regardless of what has happened between us, Lance has always been your friend. I know he’d want you to be there.”

“Why do you?” Cara asked, searching his eyes.

“You’re awfully suspicious.”

“Don’t I have a right to be? After all, you’re blackmailing me.”

“It’s not blackmail, Cara. We made a deal. And tonight, I asked you to celebrate the marriage of a good friend. It’s as simple as that.”

Kevin wanted her on his arm that night and he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible during these two weeks, but it surprised him how much it mattered to him.

Cara finally relented. “Okay. I’ll go and share in the celebration. Lance is a good man.”

Kevin nodded, glad that she’d changed her mind. “Good night, Cara.” He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, relishing the soft, subtle nuances of her giving lips and baby-soft skin. “I had a good time tonight.”

Cara closed her eyes briefly. An image of her panting out a rocking orgasm flashed in his head.

“Uh, Kevin. Maybe we shouldn’t—”

Kevin leaned in and kissed her a second time, stopping her next thought. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She gazed into his eyes and shook her head as if trying to figure him out before turning to enter her hotel room.

Kevin left her and drove to his penthouse. He stripped out of his clothes immediately and walked into an icy-cold shower. The brisk spray rained down, easing his stubborn lust. But sexy images of Cara stayed with him throughout. It wasn’t easy to wash Cara from his system.

He wanted to make her pay for abandoning him. He wanted to charm her and bend her to his will. He’d succeeded somewhat, but Cara had always been bright. She was correct to be suspicious of him. The only trouble was that he, too, paid a price for his little plan.

He wanted her.

After he toweled off, he headed for his bar and poured himself two fingers of bourbon. Leaning against the black-granite counter, he lifted his glass in midair. “Here’s to you, Cara. My wife for just a few more days.”

After her lake encounter with Kevin, Cara warned herself she was playing with fire and vowed to keep her distance from her husband until Lance and Kate’s reception. It was much safer that way. She needed to keep her perspective and remember why she’d come to Houston.

She’d maintained that resolve for exactly twelve hours, until Kevin knocked at her door midmorning, wearing a full Astros baseball getup. She glanced at him, puzzled, noting his red jersey and baseball cap with the Astros’ official star logo. He waved box-seat tickets for the afternoon game in front of her and shot her a delicious grin.

When it dawned on her what he had in mind, she could hardly refuse his enticing offer. She was a huge Houston fan, going back to her high-school days. Going to a day game felt sinful and luxurious, and she felt that doubly with Kevin by her side.

Now, she sat in a box seat at Minute Maid Park, just behind home plate, eating a hot dog and slurping down a Diet Coke.

“Want another?” he asked, after inhaling two hot dogs in record time.

“Nope, but toss me that bag of peanuts and I’m good to go.”

Kevin smiled and set the bag on her lap. “Have at it, babe.”

They munched on peanuts, booed the bad calls, cheered the good ones and jumped from their seats when an Astro player made it on base. Kevin excused himself for a minute and when he returned, he plopped a red cap with a big white star on her head and handed her a jersey that matched his.

“Thank you!” After she put the jersey on over her blouse, she reached over and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

Kevin turned his head toward her and her kiss slid to his lips. He tasted of mustard and soda and sunshine and their kiss lasted far longer than expected. Kevin took her into his arms and, much like two teenagers in love, they lost themselves.

“Hey, get a room!”

The shout came from a few rows back and Kevin smiled as he broke off the kiss. “Not a bad idea.”

“Oh!” Cara straightened in her seat, a full flush of heat rising up her neck. She refused to look Kevin’s way for a few minutes but she did hear him chuckle several times.

The Astros won the game and, with their spirits buoyed, they strolled the ballpark hand-in-hand until the crowds diminished. Cara stood in the Grand Union lobby, the famous entrance to the ballpark that went back to the early beginnings of Houston. “Remember when they built the stadium?”

“Yeah, traffic was stopped up for months.”

Cara glanced at him. “But you thought it was cool that they’d use Union Station as the entrance.”

“Still do. It brings a lot of people to the downtown area. From a business standpoint, it was a great idea.”

“Speaking of business, how did you manage to get away from the office today?”

When they were living as man and wife, Kevin would have rather cut off his right arm than take a day off from work.

“I’ll make up for it tonight. Got a load of paperwork to sift through.”

Cara figured as much. He’d never let his work go, not even for a day. There were times he wouldn’t come to bed until two, the computer more of an enticement than she was. In the morning, she’d wake up to find him gone.

She remembered those lonely days and nights. Those memories stayed with her and marred the pleasant day she’d just had.

She remained quiet as Kevin took her back to the hotel, deciding it was a good idea not to invite him in. “I had fun today. Thank you for the invitation.” Her voice stiff and formal, Cara made up for her lack of grace with a little smile.

Kevin didn’t seem to notice the change in her. “Me, too. It’s been ages since I went to a game.”

“Because you’re too busy?”

Kevin weighed her question, studying her. “I know how to delegate work now, Cara,” he said, his tone none too gracious. “I haven’t gone to a game because…hell, you’re gonna make me say it?”

Stunned, Cara blinked. “Say what?”

Kevin shook his head and cursed. “Because it’s what we did. Me and you.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure she understood.

“I went a few times with the guys,” he admitted. Then Kevin’s voice went deep, and he tapped her baseball cap twice, planting it farther down on her forehead. “But they don’t look as cute as you in a baseball cap.”

Before she could react, Kevin leaned down and kissed her soundly on the lips, putting to shame the kiss they’d shared at the ballpark. After five minutes of making out hot and heavy at her door, Kevin backed away and caught his breath, his eyes devastatingly blue. “I’d better go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Cara slumped by the door, not knowing if she was glad he’d left or angry that, once again, his work took precedence over her.

What difference did it make, anyway?

Soon she’d be the ex Mrs. Kevin Novak, and what he did or didn’t do with his time wouldn’t matter.

She clung to that thought and took it to bed with her, trying not to wonder when Kevin would call her again.

Cara fumed for the next two days. Kevin didn’t call. She knew she should be glad that she’d been given a reprieve from the relentless attention he paid her, yet she thought it all a waste of time. He’d forced her to stay in Houston for two weeks to obtain his signature. She’d put her life on hold for him. She’d made umpteen calls to her dance studio, dealing with problems and making important decisions from her hotel room instead of being where she was most needed.

Cara looked in the mirror and fidgeted with her unruly mop of hair, finger-combing strands back in place while she debated about going out for dinner or calling room service. Anger bubbled inside and she decided to take a brisk walk to cool off. She picked up her purse just as the hotel phone rang.

She stared at it for a long while, debating whether to pick up. Finally, she relented. “Hello?” she said, tapping her foot.

“Hi, Cara.”

Cara winced when she heard Kevin on the other end. She wished she’d listened to her first instinct and not answered the phone. His voice sounded odd and distant, as if he were calling from a cave. “Where are you?”

“Home. Do you still make that killer chicken soup?”

“My grandma’s recipe? Yes, why do you—” Then it dawned on her. Kevin didn’t sound like himself. In fact, she’d never heard him sound so off. She put two and two together. “Are you sick?”

“You could say that,” he whispered.

“How sick?”

“I’ve been in bed for two days and nights, going crazy.”

Guilt washed over her and Cara was ashamed of how many unpleasant thoughts had entered her mind about Kevin. She had been certain that he’d been playing games and toying with her emotions, telling her he’d call and then deliberately avoiding her.

“Do you have a fever?”

“One hundred and two.”

Oh, man. She softened immediately. “Have you eaten?”

Certainly a millionaire living in a penthouse would have someone to cook and clean for him.

“Toast, yesterday. Not much of an appetite. But I’m craving your grandmother’s soup.”

Cara inhaled sharply. She was hardly Kevin’s nursemaid, but she was still his wife. And his pride wouldn’t allow him to ask, unless he really needed her help. She remembered that Kevin hated being sick, never took a day off to heal and was the worst patient she’d ever seen. “I’ll catch a cab and be right over.”

“I sent a car for you. You can stop off and get the things you need. He should be there any minute.” Cara sighed. “Kevin, how’d you know I’d come?”

“I didn’t,” he said, his voice trailing off. Cara backed away from giving him grief—he really sounded ill. “But a man can hope, right?”

Kevin felt better already just knowing Cara was on her way. He didn’t know what had hit him since he rarely got sick, but he’d been knocked for a loop after taking Cara to the Astros game. He’d spent the next two days in bed, hating every minute of it. His fever had spiked and he hadn’t had a drop of energy. Today, he’d gotten up and worked from his home office until he couldn’t move a muscle. He’d climbed back in bed, cursing, and the only thing he’d thought of besides his rotten luck was Cara.

In truth, since she’d come back to town she’d consumed his thoughts. His plan for payback was working exceptionally well. Maybe too well, because he’d spent the past two days dreaming of her and the dusky, molten look he put on her face every time they came together. Building up to their one night of lovemaking was killing him, but he enjoyed every torturous minute.

Tonight, he decided, he’d call a truce. He couldn’t take advantage when she’d come so willingly to help him recover, but he felt no guilt whatsoever for the little fib he’d told to get her here.

His fever had broken before he’d called her and he was feeling human again. But he hadn’t lied about his craving. He wanted to see Cara in his kitchen, cooking her grandmother’s hearty chicken soup. It was the best way to get her to his penthouse—he doubted she’d have come otherwise. But why the hell he’d pictured Cara in his kitchen in a little domestic scene instead of sprawled out across his silk sheets was a mystery to him.

Kevin took a shower, hoping to wipe out the last remnants of his fever and bring some color back to his face. He soaped up and the cool spray of water raining down invigorated him. He shampooed hair that he’d let go for two days and, once he’d turned the faucet off, he toweled dry and stepped out of the shower. This was the most activity he’d had in two days. Looking in the mirror, he let out a groan. “Shabby, Novak,” he muttered, “and pale.”

His beard served well to cover his sallow appearance, so he opted not to shave. After slipping on his briefs and a comfortable pair of jeans, he threw on a black shirt but didn’t have the energy to button it. When the doorbell chimed, he walked the distance to the front door on legs that still felt like rubber.

He opened the door and found Cara holding a brown sack of groceries. “Hi, Kevin.”

Cara’s gaze immediately drifted to his bare chest, where his shirt spread open. His heartbeat sped up watching lust invade her pretty blue eyes. The flash of instant desire scorched him more than the fever he’d just fought. Then she blinked and redirected her gaze to his face, the moment gone. Soon, he’d put that look back on her face. Tonight, though, it was all he could muster to take the grocery bag from her arms. “My salvation. I’m glad you came, Cara.”

“I, uh, sure. I’ll make the soup and then let you rest. You really should be in bed.”

“I’ve been in bed. It’s boring. And lonely.”

Cara arched her brow. “I’ll find my way around. Point me toward the kitchen.”

He placed his hand on the delicate curve of her back, wondering what she’d been up to today, dressed in a classy, sleeveless black-lace blouse and white slacks. Had he interrupted her plans tonight? “C’mon. I’ll show you where it is.”

Cara darted glances back and forth from one room to the other. Kevin liked his penthouse, having decorated it himself, but he imagined Cara didn’t. Too much black and granite and hard angles for her liking—there was nothing here that spoke to a woman’s feminine side.

“It’s a nice place,” she said politely. “Big. How many rooms?”

“Seven.” He shrugged. “It’s home for now.”

When they reached the kitchen, Kevin set the bag on the polished-granite countertop. Cara took in the state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances and nodded. “Either you don’t cook much, or you have an expert cleaning staff.”

Kevin cracked a smile and it actually hurt his face. He hadn’t smiled in two days. “Both. I know the place looks sterile. I eat out a lot or bring in food. You know I’m not a cook.”

“Yeah, I remember. Boiling an egg is your specialty.” She smiled wide. “I thought that might have changed.”

He sat down on the counter stool across the island from Cara, content to watch her. “Some things have changed, but not my cooking abilities. I’m still pretty hopeless in the kitchen, but I make up for it in other ways.”

She blinked, looking a little flustered, and rubbed her hands down her slacks. “Okay, well, I’ll just get started.”

She removed the groceries from the bag and started laying things out, opening and closing kitchen drawers until she had all the utensils she needed. “Are you going to sit there and watch me?”

He nodded. “Unless you need help.”

God, he hoped she didn’t. He’d sat down because his rubber legs needed the break. He’d felt better after his shower but, as the hour wore on, weakness consumed him again.

“Nope, this is a one-woman job.” She smiled and went to work efficiently. “Just watch and learn.”

Cara scooped up the carrots and potatoes she’d cut into small chunks and tossed them into the big soup pot. The chicken pieces were already cooking and she’d used caution with the spices. Normally, she’d spice up the soup to give it a sharp bite, but she had to stick to more bland ingredients for Kevin’s sake.

He watched her intently, making small talk, asking her about the recipe, truly engaged in what she was doing. But each time Cara glanced at him, he appeared to slump lower on the stool. His voice droned in quiet tones and only his stubborn nature kept him in the kitchen instead of the bed, where he really needed to be.

“You’re exhausted, sweetheart,” she said softly. “The soup’s going to need an hour of simmering. Let me get you into bed. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

Kevin pursed his lips and stared at her with feigned irritation. Hell would freeze over before Kevin would ever admit defeat, but she knew he was grateful for the reprieve. “Only because you called me sweetheart.”

“That was my strategy all along,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She moved to his side of the island. “Can you get to your bedroom okay?”

He lowered his dark blond lashes. “Sure, but it’d be more fun if you helped me.”

Cara couldn’t tell if he was joking. He really did appear weak and his color had faded since she’d first arrived. She feared he’d overdone it. “Okay, I’ll get you there.”

Kevin stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She followed his lead to the farthest room down the hallway. Double doors opened to a room that could only be described as a suite in itself. A blackmanteled fireplace stood across from the massive bed. An enormous flat-screen television covered one wall and a room-size balcony ventured out from two French doors, overlooking the Houston skyline.