The Rented Bride (Highland Billionaires Book 1) (13 page)

She hesitated. He supposed she hadn’t given their sleeping arrangements any thought.

“You didn’t say anything about this in the contract,” she said.

“But I did. The contract states that our arrangement is strictly business. We’ll share the same room, but not my bed. I’ll sleep there.” He indicated a chaise in the corner of the room. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t sleep much these days.

She returned her gaze to his face. “All right, but your staff is going to think I’m a whore for jumping into bed with you.”

“No one in this household would dare refer to you in any way other than honorable.” He held her gaze. “Not even under their breaths. Listen, Cassie, I told the inner sanctum about our arrangement, but not everyone who works at Brettonwood knows the truth. I believed that those closest to me needed to know, but as much as I trust my staff, it would take only one person slipping up or calling the tabloids for things to go bad. Which is why I insisted we talk here, privately. We can’t make a habit of having private discussions in hallways.”

She arched a brow. “Like the one we had last night when you
propositioned
me?”

“That’s right.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

“You can change in the bathroom.” He crossed to the armoire opposite the bed and opened the top drawer. As expected, his underclothes had been moved and women’s lacy underwear, stockings and a pair of long, pink cotton pajamas lay neatly folded in the drawer. Trent looked at Cassie. “Doris put your underclothes here. I imagine your other clothes are hanging in the closet.”

She glanced at the closet. “You sure there isn’t an iguana hiding in there?”

Trent grinned. “If there is, Ms. Adams, just let me know and I’ll slay the beast for you.”

She stared for two heartbeats, and he wondered if he’d said something inappropriate.

“Mrs. Weston,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’re married, remember?”

Trent nodded. He wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.

She walked to the pulled armoire and the pajamas from the drawer, started to turn, then stopped. 

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Um, yes.” She hesitated, then turned, giving him her back. “Can you unzip me?”

He grasped the zipper and his cock jerked when the fabric parted as he lowered the zipper over the contours of her back, revealing creamy skin, then the lace of her bra. He stopped at the crest of her rounded buttocks. She was petite, but fit, her body built to be a man’s playground. He swallowed hard and let his hand fall away.

“Thank you.” She hurried to the bathroom.

Trent yanked his bowtie loose, then unbuttoned the first two shirt buttons. A soft knock at the door drew his attention.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened and Philip entered. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. Do you require help with your kilt?”

“Not tonight, Philip. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Philip canted his head in acknowledgement and closed the door. Trent stripped off his jacket and draped it over the standing valet located alongside the armoire. He dropped his cufflinks on the bureau, then began unbuttoning his shirt, but slowed, his mind on the lacy panties he’d seen in the drawer. The pink would barely cover the thatch of curls between Cassie’s legs. Was she stripping off a pair of panties like that right now? Dammit, he’d signed a contract that practically forbade him from such fantasies. He finished unbuttoning the shirt, then whipped it off his back and tossed it over the jacket.

The bathroom door opened.

Oh hell. He was in trouble. Cassie made pink cotton pajamas look as sexy as a black teddy and stilettos. He kept his eyes on her face, but didn’t miss the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Nipples poked the ribbed fabric.

She froze mid step, her gaze shifting from his face, to his chest and dipping lower, then snapping back to his face. When their eyes met, he cocked a brow.

A blush tinted her cheeks, but she shrugged. “You look good in a kilt. Sue me for looking.” She walked past him to the closet and quickly hung up the dress. “If you don’t quit staring at me, you can sleep in the bathtub,” she said without rancor. A second later, she emerged from the closet and went to the bed.

Trent broke from the stare. “Can I have a pillow?” he asked as she slid beneath the sheet and blankets.

“Oh sorry. Of course.” She handed him one of the pillows. “You need a blanket, too.” She started to pull at the down-filled comforter.

He shook his head. There are more in the closet. I’ll get one. “Goodnight, Cassie.”

She mumbled something, rolled over and burrowed beneath the covers.

Cassie lay awake, aware of the noises Trent made. Not snoring, but groans and mumbles. She wasn’t sure if he dreamed or not. Moonlight streamed into the room. If she turned, she could see him, but she didn’t want him to know she lay awake. When she’d stepped out of the bathroom and saw the broad expanse of his tanned chest, the trim waist, and the downy hair that disappeared into his kilt, she’d nearly choked on her tongue. She groaned inwardly. Was she actually getting wet? God, he was too handsome for words.

She carefully stretched her legs trying not to make a sound. The scent of his cologne clung to the pillow. Dear Lord, give her strength. It was going to be difficult enough keeping an in-name-only marriage secret. How would keep secret a real marriage she’d consummated? Could she look Father Victor in the eye and lie in order to get an annulment?

Cassie started at a thump. Trent cursed. Her heartbeat jolted into rapid rhythm. What the hell was going on? She resisted the urge to turn toward him. Covers rustled, followed by another curse then an exasperated sigh.

Cassie remained still, trying to fall asleep, but the words ‘I do,’ spoken by her, played over and over in her mind.
Married
. She’d been taught that marriage was sacred—and forever. She was a modern woman and no saint, and she couldn’t exactly say she regretted their business deal. Still, it was weird.

Another rustle of his covers and she tensed. What would she do if Trent crawled into bed with her? Kick him out! That would be a complete violation of their agreement, and really would make her a whore. On the other hand, if they’d met under normal circumstances, if she’d been a guest at one of his parties, perhaps, she could have invited him to dinner, then another dinner and another, and
then
she would have invited him back to her place where she would have let him crawl into bed with her.

She’d had those large hands on her wrists, arms, the small of her back when they’d danced. What would they feel like sliding around her waist, up her stomach to her breasts and across her nipples? A tremor rippled through her. Warm, his lips would be warm when he dipped his head to take a marble-hard areola into his mouth. The juncture between her legs tightened. Sweet God in heaven, his easy touch could bring her to orgasm. His weight on her, pressing her into the mattress, his cock hard against her sex, then probing, pushing, stretching—Cassie jumped when Trent muttered something.

She held her breath, heart hammering against her ribs. Had she inadvertently moaned? Oh, she would never live it down if he guessed her thoughts. Silence followed and Cassie slowly released her breath. By all that was unholy, she’d lost her mind. If she—

Her phone rang.

Cassie bolted upright. The tone was muffled. Her purse. She threw back the covers. Where had she left her purse? She turned, unable to home in on the location. Then it sounded again, near the window. Doris must have put it on the desk when she moved her things into Trent’s room. Cassie hurried the four paces to the desk. Moonlight illuminated the desktop. She grabbed the purse then started to open it. No! The ring would blare once out of the purse.

She started for the bathroom, then thought better of passing Trent and turned right toward the walk-in closet. Cassie reached the closet, stepped inside, then eased the door closed. Her heart pounded. Who was calling her this time of night? She pulled the phone from the purse, then froze at sight of Antonio Bionchi’s number flashing on the screen. Her mother had set Cassie up on one blind date with the guy and he acted like they were engaged. He’d called four times in the last week. This is what she got for ignoring his calls. Cassie turned off the ringer, slumped against the clothes and released a breath. God was punishing her.

Keeping her life with Trent separate from her real life might not be as easy as she thought. Thought? She hadn’t given the matter much thought. Tomorrow, she had to call her family and— The phone vibrated in her hand. Her cousin Sophia’s number displayed in the screen. Cassie stared for two heartbeats before realizing that Antonio must have called Sophia when she hadn’t picked up. Cassie’s mother and Antonio’s mother attended the same church bingo group and Sophia had met him several times at mass.

Cassie hit the accept button and pressed the phone to her ear. “That asshole called you, didn’t he?”

“He’s not an asshole, Cassie. He’s smitten with you. It’s a compliment. The guy is gorgeous.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “We went on one date. Sophia, we had nothing to talk about, he speaks very little English.”

“Think of all the fun you’ll have teaching him anatomy.”

“I’m not interested and I resent your interference.”

Sophia laughed. “I answer to a higher authority than you.”

Cassie groaned. “Mom.”

“You got it.

“I’ll deal with Mom.”

Sophia laughed again. “I’d like to see that.”

The door burst open and the overhead light flared to life. Cassie blinked against the sudden intrusion, then took a startled step back. Trent stood in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Is that a man’s voice?” Sophia said.

Cassie stared at Trent. He wore only boxer briefs. His eyes were dazed slightly, as if he’d woken suddenly and his hair—oh god, that adorably mussed hair was too cute.
Don’t look at his legs, don’t look at his legs,
she mentally repeated. How could a man possibly have such perfect tanned legs that seemed to go on forever? God really was testing her.

“What’s wrong, Cassie?” he said.

“That
is
a man’s voice,” Sophia cried. “
No wonder
you didn’t want to talk to Antonio.” Sophia’s whoop blared through the phone. “You’re with another man.”

Trent’s eyes jerked onto the phone and Cassie realized she’d pulled it from her ear.  

“Antonio?” Trent repeated.

Cassie jammed the phone to her ear. “I’m working, Sophia. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Working, my ass,” Sophia said before Cassie could hit the end call button.

Trent frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I-I’m sorry I woke you,” she blurted. “My cell phone rang.” She extended it as if it wasn’t obvious what she was talking about. “My cousin called.” It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Big family, remember? One of them is always calling.”

“It’s after midnight.”

She shrugged. “That’s family.”

“Okay.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “Are you going to stay in the closet?”

“Oh, of course not.”

He didn’t move and she realized he was waiting for her to come back into the room.
Please, please, please move
, she telepathed, but he didn’t. She drew her arms close to her body, determined not to touch him, and willed her legs to remain steady as she walked past him. Cassie released a breath and continued toward the bed. The closet light went out and she stopped, blind in the sudden darkness. She blinked in an effort to adjust her eyes to the moonlit room and edged forward. Warm fingers closed around her arm and she started.

“Come on.” Trent urged her forward.

They took three steps and her eyes adjusted enough to discern the bed. Trent released her and the side of her arm brushed his—what, ribs, belly? Cassie swallowed and scrambled into bed. She set the phone on the nightstand, her attention on Trent as he padded back to the couch.

He abruptly stopped. “You sure everything is okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” She gave thanks her voice sounded strong.

“I just wanted to be sure you don’t have any regrets.”

Regrets? She had plenty. But she knew what he meant. “Honestly, Trent, in my family, a call from a family member is not a momentous occasion.”

“Who’s Antonio?”

“What do you have, Vulcan hearing?” she muttered.

“Something like that.”

He waited and she realized he expected an answer. “He’s a guy my mother set me up with.”

“You didn’t tell me you were involved with anyone,” Trent said.

“Because I’m not. He was a blind date. We went out once.”

“A guy you went out with once called you at two in the morning?” he demanded.

“You said it was a little after midnight.”

“Here in Colorado,” he said. “In Miami, it’s after two.”

Dammit. He would notice that. “He’s from Italy. He may still be on Italian time.

Trent laughed. “That’s one of the lamest excuses I’ve ever heard for a late call.”

“Too bad,” Cassie said, and dragged the blanket over her head.

Cassie started awake, surprised by the sun that streamed through the windows. She blinked the digital clock on the nightstand into focus. 6:15. She sat up and draped her legs over the side of the bed.

And saw Trent.

He lay on the floor, the blanket bunched under his back and a pillow tucked beneath his head. One arm lay across his face while the other rested on the flat plain of his stomach.

Cassie bit her lip. He didn’t look comfortable, but he did look beautiful. She couldn’t look last night when he was awake. Now, however, she could look all she wanted. Muscles defined the smooth angles of his chest. Dark hair circled his flat nipples, bisected his corded abdominals and disappeared into the waistband of his gray boxer briefs. The gray fabric confined the rigid length and thickness of his morning erection. God help her. What had she done to deserve this torture?

She slipped from the bed, grabbed slacks and a shirt from the closet, then carefully opened the dresser drawer, withdrew panties and a bra and turned. She was never going to get the image of Trent lying sprawled on the floor in nothing but those tight underwear out of her head—which meant she would get little sleep. Those legs and that—

“Are you getting a good enough look?”

Cassie jumped at the sound of Trent’s voice, then squeaked at sight of his open eyes. She whirled and raced for the bathroom. Cassie slammed the door shut and backed up several paces, half expecting the door to open. Silence followed. She stared at the door. How would she face him after he caught her staring at his nearly naked body? Oh, this was so bad.

Twenty minutes later, Cassie had showered and dressed and was desperate for coffee.

She opened the bathroom door and peeked into the bedroom. Trent’s blanket draped the foot of the bed, his pillow lay next to hers, but he was gone. She released a breath and found her way to the kitchen. The scent of fresh brewed coffee drew her to the counter. Teacups and saucers sat on the counter. She poured a cup and sipped. The hot brew flowed across her tongue. For a moment she felt like herself.

“Morning, Cassie.” Meg entered and poured herself coffee.

Cassie smiled. Was it a good morning? She couldn’t be sure yet. She would get some work done, let Maryanne know that she wouldn’t be back until Wednesday.

“I just spoke with Trent,” Meg said. “He’s in his office.”

“Thanks.” If she was lucky, he would stay there all day. She headed back to Trent’s bedroom.

By the time she’d returned to the room, the bed had been made and her satchel rested on the desk near the window. She went to the desk then paused and stared out the window. A fresh covering of powdered snow glistened like tiny jewels on the ground and pines. She could sit at this desk and work for hours without growing tired of the scene. Cassie placed her cup on the desk and set up her laptop, then went to work.

A soft knock sounded. She twisted and looked over her shoulder as the door opened.

Trent entered and strode to the desk. “Good morning.”

Embarrassment sent butterflies skittering across the insides of her tummy. To her relief, Trent didn’t act as if he’d caught her ogling him only an hour ago.

She smiled. “Hi.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Getting some work done.”

Whiskers shadowed his jaw. “Did you have breakfast?”

She lifted her coffee cup. “This is my usual. How’s James?”

“Still sleeping. It’s a bit early for him, and he was up later last night than usual.”

“Is he all right? Did I tire him out too much last night? Darn it, I should have insisted he go to bed earlier.”

Trent chuckled. “I doubt anyone could have kept him in bed even with chains.” His expression softened. “I haven’t seen him that happy in too long.”

“I’m glad. He was telling some interesting stories.”

“Interesting stories?” Trent groaned. “Oh no, you don’t mean…”

Cassie nodded. “He was telling stories about you when you were younger.”

Trent leaned his backside on the edge of the desk and folded his arms over his chest. “Do I need to apologize for something?”

She laughed. “Not unless you intend to raid my panty drawer and hang panties on the trees in front of my window.”

“I was young when I did that,” he replied.

Cassie lifted a brow. “Twenty-four.”