Wife for a Week(28)

‘What time?’

‘Seven.’

She glanced at the clock on the sideboard. ‘Excellent. Enough time for a catnap. A person could really get used to this afternoon dozing caper.’ She snagged a pillow and lay back down haphazardly. Her eyes drifted closed.

Nick couldn’t move, wouldn’t, for fear his feet would take him towards the bed and all this morning’s rule-making would be for nothing. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked huskily and cursed himself the moment the words left his lips. He knew what that question was about, knew exactly where it was heading. He wanted to know if she was physically able to take him again.

She came up onto one elbow in a single, fluid movement and fixed him with those glorious golden eyes. ‘Are we talking mentally or physically?’

‘Both.’

But Nick’s dark, searing gaze slid from her face to her breasts and Hallie just knew what lay behind his question. ‘You want me,’ she breathed. ‘You want to make love to me again!’

‘No, I don’t!’

Oh, yes, he did! And the knowledge that he did was downright empowering. She smiled slowly, arched back so that the thin silk of her shirt stretched taut across her breasts and had the satisfaction of seeing him pale.

‘Stop that,’ he ordered.

Her smile widened. ‘You’re absolutely right. Mustn’t forget the rules.’ She slid from the bed and sashayed towards the window with newfound confidence. ‘You think anyone behind those windows over there in the distance would have a pair of binoculars?’ she said. ‘Because I thought I saw a glint of sunlight off something.’

‘I didn’t see anything,’ he said.

That was because he’d been too busy watching her. ‘Could have been a telescope, I guess. Or a camera.’ She turned slowly, every move a subtle challenge. ‘That’s the trouble with a city this size. There’s always someone watching.’

‘We do not have an audience,’ he said firmly.

‘That you know of,’ she corrected with a wicked grin. ‘Better close the curtains just in case. Because if there was someone over there watching, they’d have an awfully good view of the bed.’ Nick glanced at the bed at her words and Hallie thought she heard him mutter something beneath his breath. It didn’t sound like a curse. Maybe he was praying.

‘I’m going to shower before dinner,’ he said doggedly. ‘And I’m taking my clothes in with me.’

What, no parading that glorious body of his around in a towel? Spoilsport. ‘Go.’ Hallie waved him away. ‘I’ve already showered. All I have to do is change clothes and I’m ready for dinner. I’ll do it while you’re in the bathroom. And I’ll cut you a break and head on out to the terrace after that. Wouldn’t want you breaking any more rules.’ She tried hard not to smirk as he collected up fresh clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with far more force than was strictly necessary.

He wanted her. Nick Cooper, womanizer extraordinaire, wanted her, no matter what he’d said this morning. And, heaven help them both, she wanted him.



With distance came rational thought. Hallie stood on the terrace and looked out over the immaculately groomed gardens, then up at the clouds gathering in the sky, and thought about the situation sensibly. The heady recklessness that had come with the knowledge that Nick wanted her had settled and reality had swooped down on her like a cloak. Nick didn’t want to want her. He couldn’t afford the distraction; he’d told her that from the start. Hence their deal, their rules, and the ten thousand pounds he was paying her when the week was up. He was counting on her to stick to her side of the bargain.
As for her wanting him, well, that was only to be expected. It was an automatic response to a man like Nick, like breathing. It didn’t necessarily mean she wanted a relationship with him. She’d fought hard for her independence from her well-meaning brothers; fought dirty at times to keep it. She couldn’t give it up. Wouldn’t. She didn’t want to be a cosseted corporate wife. Not even for Nick.

So it was settled. Nick was right. From now on she would stick to the plan. And to the rules. For both their sakes.

Nick joined her slightly before seven, freshly showered, shaven, and thoroughly eye-catching in dark trousers and yet another one of those crisp white shirts he wore without a tie. Honestly, how a woman was supposed to keep her resolve around such a man was anyone’s guess.

Still, her smile of greeting was warm but not provocative, her body language welcoming but not enticing. ‘I’ve had a rethink about the whole wanting dilemma,’ she said casually, as if they were talking about nothing more important than the weather. ‘I’m thinking denial is our best option.’