The Millionaire Claims His Wife(10)

"Oh, yeah," he said, his lips pulling back from his teeth, "yeah, you  sure taught me that lesson. 'Not now, Chase. I'm not in the mood,  Chase."'

"And whose fault was that, do you think?"

"You didn't see me rolling over and turning my back to you, did you, babe?"

"Don't 'babe' me," Annie said furiously. "And if I rolled away from you,  it was for a dam good reason. I didn't feel anything anymore. Did you  expect me to pretend?"

"Is that what you do when you're with Hoffman? Do you pretend he turns you on?"

Annie's hand shot through the air, but Chase caught her wrist before she could connect with his jaw.

"You know damn well you didn't have to pretend when I made love to you,"  he growled, "even at the end. You were just too proud to admit it."

"Poor Chase. Can't your ego take the truth?"

"I'll show you 'truth'!"

"No," Annie said, but it was too late, Chase had already pulled her into his arms, and brought his mouth to hers.

His kiss was filled with anger and Annie struggled against it, pounding  her fists against his shoulders, trying desperately to tear her mouth  from his.

And then, deep within her, something seemed to let go.

Maybe it was the stillness of the night, curling just outside the  window. Maybe it was the unyielding tension of the endless day. Suddenly  anger gave way to a far more dangerous emotion. Hunger. The hunger that  had been between them in the past and that she'd believed dead.

Chase felt it, too.

"Annie," he whispered, against her mouth. His hands swept into her hair,  lifting her face to his. With a sigh of surrender, her arms went around  his neck, her lips parted beneath his, and she gave herself up to him  and to the kiss.                       
       
           



       

It was like a dance once learned and never forgotten. Their bodies  shifted, moving against each other with an ease that came of passion  long-ago shared. Their heads tilted, their lips met, their tongues  sought and tasted. Annie clasped her hands behind Chase's neck; he slid  his slowly down her body, cupped her bottom and lifted her into him. She  whimpered when she felt the hardness of him against her; he groaned  when he felt her tilt her hips to his.

For long moments, they were lost to everything but each other. Then, breathing hard, they stepped apart.

Annie's skin felt hot when Chase cupped her face in his hands and  brushed a light kiss on her lips. He wanted to lift her into his arms  and carry her into the darkness.

"Annie?" he whispered, and she smiled and clasped his wrists with her hands.

"Yes." She sighed...

Suddenly the kitchen blazed with light.

"Mom? Dad? What on earth are you doing?"

Annie and Chase spun around. Dawn and Nick stood in the doorway, openmouthed with shock.





CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS, Annie thought, the question of the decade.

What were they doing, she and her former husband?

Her cheeks, already scarlet, grew even hotter.

Making out as if they were a pair of oversexed kids, that was what. She  and Chase had been wrapped around each other as if it were years and  years ago, when he'd just brought her home from a date. In those days,  not even an hour spent parked on that little knoll half an hour's drive  north of the city, steaming up the windows of Chase's old Chevy, had  been enough to keep them from wanting just one more kiss, one more  caress.

"Mother?"

Dawn was still staring at them both. She looked as if finding her  parents kissing was only slightly less shocking than it would be if  she'd found the kitchen populated with little green men saying, "Take me  to your leader."

And, Annie thought grimly, it was all Chase's fault

He'd taken advantage of her distress, capitalized on her already-confused emotions. And for what possible reason?

To shut her up.

It was the same old ploy he'd used during the years that their marriage  had been falling apart. She'd try to talk about what was wrong and  Chase, who was perfectly happy with their marriage as it was, would say  there was nothing to discuss. And if she persisted, he'd shut her up by  taking her in his arms and starting to make love.

It had worked, but only for a very little while, when she'd still been  foolish enough to think those kisses meant he loved her. Eventually  she'd figured out that they meant nothing of the sort. Chase was just  silencing her, in the most direct way possible, using what had always  worked best between them.

Sex. Raw, basic, you-Jane, me-Tarzan sex.

But sex, no matter how electric, just wasn't enough when the rest of the  relationship had gone wrong. It had taken her a while to realize that,  but realize it she had.

He was playing the same ugly game tonight. And she'd made it easy.  Responding to him, when she knew better. Kissing him back, when she  didn't feel anything for him. Whatever had seemed to happen, in his arms  just now, was a lie. She didn't feel anything for Chase, except anger.

"Mother? Are you all right?"

Annie took a deep, deep breath.

"Fine," she said, and cleared her throat. "I'm perfectly fine, Dawn."

A puzzled smile broke across Dawn's mouth. She looked from Annie to Chase.

"What were you guys doing?"

Annie waited for Chase to respond, but he remained silent. That's right,  she thought furiously. Let me be the one to figure out something to  say. He knew, the rat, that she wouldn't tell Dawn the truth, wouldn't  say, "Well, Dawn, your no-account old man was on the losing end of an  argument so he did what he always used to do whenever that happened..."

"Well," Annie said, "well, your father and I were, ah, we were talking about you. And Nick. And-and-"

"And your mother began to cry, so I put my arms around her to comfort her."

Annie swung toward Chase. He was standing straight and tall, the  portrait of honor, decency and paternalism in his chinos, open-collared  shirt and long-sleeved, forest-green cashmere sweater. His hair was a  little ruffled and he had end-of-day stubble on his jaw, but on him-she  hated to admit-it looked good.

She, on the other hand, was a mess. Old jeans. Old sweatshirt. Hair that  had been allowed to dry without benefit of a dryer or a brush, and a  face that was painfully free of even the most basic makeup.

"Your poor mother is very upset." Chase said, putting his arm around  Annie's shoulders and giving her his best "chin-up" smile. "She needed a  shoulder to cry on. Isn't that right. Annie?"                       
       
           



       

"Right," Annie said, through a smile that was all clenched teeth. What  else could she do? Blurt out that Chase was lying? That the two of them  had been standing in the dark, locked in a kiss that had left her knees  buckling, because he was a manipulative bastard and she was too long  without a man? That was the truth, wasn't it? The real truth. She'd  never have responded to him if she hadn't been living like a nun.

"Really?" Dawn looked at them both again, and then the faint smile that  had been lifting her lips trembled and fell. "I understand. It was  foolish of me to think... I mean, when I saw you guys kissing, I  thought... I almost thought... Oh, never mind."

"Kissing?" Annie said, with a slightly wild laugh. She stepped carefully  out of Chase's encircling arm, went to the stove and began making what  had to be the hundredth pot of tea she'd made this evening. "Kissing,  your father and me?"

"Uh-huh." Dawn slouched to the table, pulled out a chair and dropped  into it. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her  cupped hands. "Kissing. Just goes to show how utterly dumb I can be."

"No," Nick said quickly. Everyone looked at him. It was the first word  to come out of his mouth since he and Dawn had switched on the light.  His fuzz-free cheeks pinkened under the scrutiny of his bride and her  parents. "You aren't."

"I am. Getting married when anybody with half a brain could see it was a  mistake, because marriage doesn't last. We all know that."

"We don't know any such thing," Nick said, hurrying to her. He squatted  beside her chair and reached for her hands, taking them gently in his.

"Just look around you, Nicky. Your guardian, your uncle Damian? Divorced. My parents? Divorced. Even Reverend Craighill-"

"The guy who performed the ceremony?" Chase said.

Dawn nodded.

"How do you know that?"

"I asked him. The poor man's been divorced twice. Twice, can you imagine?"

Chase shot a look at Annie. "No," he said tightly, "I certainly can't."

"Don't look at me that way," Annie snapped. The teakettle let out a  piercing whistle and she snatched it from the stove. "What has the man's  marital history to do with anything?"