Chayton (11 page)

She lifted a hand, clearly exasperated, then slapped it down on the dress. “I told you. I'd been thinking about him a second before, just a fleeting thought. It happens sometimes.”

“Not when you've got another man's mouth and hands on your skin.” He set the
glass down and stalked into the master bath. From there he made his way into the
closet.

“Chayton, what are you doing? I'm telling you the truth about everything, and I'm
sorry
Anton's name slipped out.” She walked to the threshold beneath the arch, holding the dress tight against her bust.

That was how he found her when he emerged from his expansive closet with a crisp, white button down in hand. He tossed it to her. “That'll have to do for now, until morning, when I can get your other things from your room. If I leave here now, and anyone sees me, they'll get suspicious.”

Kate caught the shirt with her free hand, then did some stalking of her own. She brushed past him and closed the door to the bathroom.

Chayton sat on the end of the bed, oblivious to her raw mood. His wasn't much better. Now he had to spend the night in here with her after nearly making love to her not fifteen minutes earlier.

Excellent.

He snorted at his own inner sarcasm, one shoe and then the other dropping to the floor. He stood and removed the jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. The vest came next, along with the tie. He removed it with tugs and yanks, impatient to be rid of it.

. . .

Kate paced the bathroom in front of the long counter, not seeing the pretty gold frame around the equally long mirror or the Roman style urns sitting on either side of a jacuzzi style tub. Rubbing her forehead with her fingers, she fought off tears. It wasn't just talking about her mother's demise, but the ruination of something she knew would have been beautiful. So they were acting on primal impulse—that mattered little to Kate. The chemistry had been hot and for once, she'd been impatient to give herself over to it. To do something bold and brazen, to take and to give without worrying about the consequences. She should be grateful that he wasn't sending her packing, yet all she could do was mourn the chasm she'd put between them.

Glancing at herself in the mirror made it worse. She
looked
exactly like a bride in the midst of a tryst, with her half open gown, a few strands of hair coming loose from its high style. Her cheeks were still flushed, though she knew it was from frustration rather than passion.

She loathed taking the rest of the gown off herself. Not after Chayton had so wonderfully removed part of it with his deft fingers. Draping the shirt over the counter, she struggled with the buttons at the back, wincing for the way she had to torque her arms into unnatural positions. She'd had help getting into the gown thanks to the awkward line of buttons that were impossible for one person to reach. He'd undone enough to allow her access to those nearer the base of her spine, and she slipped several free of their holes. It gave her the room she needed to ease the material past her hips to pool at her feet.

Stepping out of the gown, Kate rolled down the sheer stocking from her legs, chin trembling. She wouldn't cry over this. She wouldn't. Tossing a stocking to the floor, she rolled down the next, then gathered all the wedding clothing and draped it over the edge of the jacuzzi tub. Soft light coming in the windows made the bathroom
into a sexy scene of glimmering satin and beads, with layers and layers of tulle
adding a feminine touch.

It took her longer to unwind her hair from the updo and ease the string of tiny pearls from the strands. She left the pearls on the counter and undid the clasp to the half-bra, which she carelessly draped atop the strand. Leaving the satin underwear in place, she pulled on Chayton's shirt, breath catching in her throat at the image she presented opposed to the tousled bride of minutes before. She looked more like the woman he'd first encountered in his closet than the fake bride he'd nearly taken on the bed.

Hating how the energy had changed, she buttoned all the buttons, smoothing her hands down over the edges of the shirt. It rode high on her thighs, covering everything that needed covering.

Departing the bathroom, she entered the bedroom and paused. Chayton stood in front of the window, shirtless with just his slacks on. The breadth of his back invited her to skim her fingertips across the sinew, to trail her lips down the strong length of his spine. His silhouette presented a well built, masculine outline, appealing along every hard contour. The long tail of his black hair added to the allure rather than detracted, something she found strange considering she'd never been drawn to men with hair longer than a short crop. It fit his persona, made him different than men she was used to.

“You can sleep in the bed,” he said without turning around. He had another half full tumbler in hand.

“I'll sleep in the chair.” It would leave her with aches and kinks in the morning, but she didn't care.

“You'll sleep in the bed,” he repeated, his voice bearing a slight edge of impatience.

Kate marched over to one of the plush chairs and sank down into it.

He twisted at the waist to glance her way. Even in shadow from moonlight shining in behind him through the window, Kate detected a shift in his expression when his gaze landed on the shirt. Or more appropriately,
her
in his shirt. Lifting the glass, he took a slow drink.

“Does this mean we're still going to Hawaii? Or have you decided to call Anton and hand me over to him?” Kate wasn't sure where the bold questions came from. Perhaps from the same instinct that led her to flee her home to begin with. If Chayton meant to contact Anton, she'd find a way to leave and go out on her own again. Chayton didn't own her—she could do as she wished.

Sex and lust be damned.

“Everything is already in motion. We're going to Hawaii tomorrow morning, as planned.”

“Does this mean you believe me?”

“Honestly, Kate? I really don't know what to believe. We'll follow through with our plans, though, and when he 'moves on', then you'll be free to seek an annulment and get back to your life.” Chayton slid the glass to a side table and walked to the end of the bed. He flipped open the button on the slacks. Buzzed down the zipper. Then he pushed the material over his hips to the floor.

About to argue her point once again, Kate's breath caught in her throat. Chayton stood there, gloriously naked, the lean muscle of his hips and thighs on clear display. He picked the pants up and carelessly tossed them over the bench at the
end of the bed. Then she watched him approach the far side, pull back the covers,
and slide between the sheets. He arched one arm up over his head, the sheets
hugging his frame, highlighting the shape of his thighs and legs—and a not-so-discreet bulge between his hips.

Kate exhaled slowly, wishing she had a drink for herself.

This might be the longest night of her life.

The flight to Kauai was uneventful. Silent. Chayton preferred to occupy himself with business while Kate stared out the window. He glanced her way a time or two, undecided how he felt 'the morning after'. It sure as hell wasn't as promising as it had nearly been when he'd had his hands on her breasts and his teeth on her throat.

Stop thinking about it.
He turned his mind from what could have been to what was upcoming. After gathering her things from her room and packing a case of his own, they'd departed Montana on a private jet not long after dawn. Now they were high above the ocean, heading toward the island where he wouldn't have to pretend so hard to be a happy groom. The members of his staff on the plane were few, and none would ask uncomfortable questions.

Most of the night he'd lain awake, aware of Kate in the chair. He'd given serious thought to the information she'd given and dissected his feelings over it all. His gut still insisted that Kate
was
innocent, the victim of greed and corruption. Yet the memory of Anton's name on her lips still irked him, and he'd been cordial but cool to her since awakening. To his surprise, she hadn't pleaded her case during packing or a quick breakfast. The atmosphere between them wasn't tense, but it wasn't easy, either.

The landing went as smooth as the drive through the towering cliffs and valleys of Kauai to their destination. A cluster of private beach houses sat near the shore in an exclusive area which catered to the rich or famous. The clubhouse situated in the midst of the houses boasted an upscale restaurant upstairs, and bars with seating overlooking the ocean on the main level. It was the spot of the upcoming gathering, where the elite would socialize and be seen.

What Chayton liked about it was the isolated locale; if Anton planned to show, there was only one road in and one road out, making his arrival onto the scene noticeable to those paying attention.

As Mattias and Leander would be.

Exiting the limousine, he waited for his valet to remove the luggage from the trunk before strolling along the winding sidewalks past tall Bird of Paradise and other lush palms. Kate at his back, Chayton retained the silence from the aircraft until they entered the beach house itself. The few members of his staff that traveled with them had their own cottage separate from the beach house, meaning he and Kate had this place to themselves. Done in tones of emerald, tan and dark green, the interior highlighted the paradise surrounding them. Bamboo and palm accents added to the island ambiance.

“You're welcome to this room,” he said, gesturing to one of three bedrooms the house offered.

“Thank you,” Kate replied, her reply stiff and formal.

Chayton pulled his luggage into the master bedroom, leaving Kate alone to unpack and settle in. With Mattias and Leander not due to arrive until tomorrow, and the rest of the exclusive guests the day after, Chayton would have to spend the interim time with Kate. Alone.

Last night before the 'accident', he might have relished the down time. Today, he lamented being in such close quarters. He was never unaware of her, never unaware of her body and the passion she'd displayed before things went sour.

Unpacking his own things, Chayton stretched the chore into the early evening, foregoing lunch or drinks. He heard Kate moving around in the kitchen, probably scaring up food for herself. The houses came pre-stocked with everything Chayton asked for.

Exiting the room when there wasn't anything else to occupy him, Chayton discovered Kate sitting on the porch beyond the windows, a drink in hand. He made himself something small and quick to eat, then poured a tumbler full of scotch to take into the room designated as an office.

That was how they existed for two days, coming and going like ghosts. He kept an eye on her when she wandered the sand toward the water, but didn't offer to escort her or provide any other companionship. He also caught himself listening for any calls she might try to make, though he never once saw her anywhere near the phone. If she contacted anyone, it was when he was deep asleep and unable to keep track. Several times, when he detected her most disappointed and maudlin moments, he nearly broke the silence. It wasn't easy to disconnect after what had almost happened, after the surge in emotion and chemistry. In the end, he'd gone about his way, more sober and serious than before.

The night after, Mattias and Leander contacted him to announce their arrival and, not long after that, notified him that Anton was on the premises. Their plan to draw the man out worked exactly as they'd hoped. Reassured that Mattias and Leander had Anton in their sights—and thus Kate, should she risk meeting Anton on the sly—Chayton continued as he had been.

On the third evening, he showered, shaved and changed into a fine suit of silver and black. This was it. The night he made a stand with Kate on his arm, the night they proved to the world that they were man and wife.

He wished the circumstances were better. Two and a half days of utter silence had begun to get under his skin. He caught himself imagining all sorts of scenarios, most of which he put from his mind. If Kate was telling the truth, she would go along with the ruse and pretend to be his wife.

Stepping into the living area, he straightened his tie and gave his cuffs a light tug. Putting his questionable mood into check, he glanced up and paused. The formal dress he'd chosen for Kate in Singapore, a floor length, crystal studded garment of pale blue, fit Kate to perfection. Tiny straps arched over her shoulders, the snug bodice outlining her svelte curves. Her waist looked smaller than ever. With her blonde hair styled into elegant waves, a small section drawn back from her forehead and secured with a clip, Kate presented a stunning combination of poise and elegance.

She turned her head and met his gaze. The smoky make up she'd applied around her eyes enhanced irises of stormy gray and added another level of sophistication to her fine features.

Chayton experienced a jolt of desire so strong it overwhelmed him. He wanted to march over there, drag her into a steamy kiss, then hoard her to himself for the rest of the evening, machinations be damned. Which would solve nothing in the long run but make their situation more tenuous.

The way she looked him over in turn—inch by agonizing inch—drove him a little crazy. It tested his willpower and control.

“Ready?” he asked once he figured out how to work his tongue.

“Yes.”

Chayton glanced at her hand to make sure her wedding band was in place, then collected her on the way to the door. The scent of her perfume, light and appealing, tickled his senses as they stepped out into the evening. It was a short walk along a torch lit path to reach the clubhouse. In the near distance, the sound of waves lapping at the shore vied with the rustle of palm fronds from a gentle, salty breeze. Other couples were making their way from their beach houses along other paths to the clubhouse as well, seen in glimpses past the large leaves of flowering plants.