Married by Mistake. Abby Gaines

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СКАЧАТЬ white—marble and porcelain—offset by highly polished stainless steel fittings.

      “Casey?” Adam called from downstairs.

      Dreading having to sit down and hash out the legal implications of what they’d done, she joined him in the living room. How was she going to explain this to her family? How would she respond when they demanded her immediate return to Parkvale?

      Right now, she doubted she could resist. The newfound backbone that had empowered her to seize control of her future had crumbled when Joe jilted her. She would get it back; of course she would. But not tonight.

      “It’s late,” Adam said. “You must be exhausted. How about we get some sleep and talk in the morning, when we’ve heard back from Sam about the annulment?”

      “Sounds perfect.” At least she’d married a man who didn’t expect her to solve all their problems.

      “You take the bedroom, this couch will do me.”

      Considerate, too. Casey wasn’t about to argue. She tried but failed to stifle a yawn. “Thanks, Adam.” She ran a hand around the back of her neck to ease muscles exhausted from the strain of holding her head high through today’s fiasco. “Good night.”

      A knock at the door interrupted his reply. Adam opened it and a bellboy presented him with an envelope. Casey caught a glimpse of the words Private and Confidential.

      “From Sam,” Adam said.

      Thank goodness. Hopefully the lawyer had figured a way out of this predicament.

      Adam tore it open. It took him only a second to read the contents. He uttered a half laugh, half groan.

      “What is it? Bad news?”

      He didn’t answer, only gave her a brooding look.

      She stretched out a hand. “May I see it?”

      He held the note just out of her reach. “I’m not sure you want to.”

      In answer, she snatched it from him. And read Sam Magill’s instruction, etched on the fine paper in bold blue strokes.

      DO NOT CONSUMMATE THE MARRIAGE.

      “Oh.” Casey dropped it on the coffee table, her cheeks burning. “As if we were going to. That’s…that’s…”

      “Ridiculous?”

      “Exactly.”

      “Sam is very thorough. I imagine he wanted to cover all contingencies.” Adam grinned, and that furrow of tension disappeared. “Perhaps he was worried by your enthusiasm when you kissed me at the TV studio.”

      Casey sputtered. “I kissed you? You’re the one who heated things up.” The memory of his mouth on hers flooded back, leaving her light-headed. She clutched at the only possible explanation. “It was a rebound thing for me.”

      That wiped the smile off Adam’s face. He looked pointedly toward the couch. “I think it’s time we got some sleep. Separately.”

      In the bedroom, Casey discovered the reason why someone else had buttoned her dress for her at the TV studio. There must have been at least thirty tiny pearl buttons down her back, most of them beyond her reach.

      She grappled with the dress for another minute, but it was hopeless. Peeking down into the living room, she was relieved to find Adam hadn’t yet gone to bed, he stood by the window, staring out over Union Avenue, deep in thought.

      Casey headed down the stairs. “Adam? I can’t undo my buttons. Could you help?”

      She half turned her back so he could see the problem, and he came to her aid.

      Casey had never realized the area between her shoulder blades, where the buttons started, was so sensitive. The brush of Adam’s fingers against her bare skin stimulated a whole bunch of nerve endings. She shivered.

      “Cold?” he asked, his tone impersonal.

      Casey nodded, holding herself rigid to prevent any more of those traitorous shivers. But it didn’t lessen the sensation. She felt the release of each little button, aware that more and more of her flesh was showing. Warmth rose within her—was it possible her back was blushing?

      This had to be because of that note from the lawyer. They’d been told not to consummate the marriage, and five minutes later she’d had to ask Adam to undress her.

      “You can probably manage the rest yourself,” he said, his voice clipped.

      She stepped away. “Thanks. I hope you won’t be too uncomfortable on that thing.” She gestured to the couch.

      He looked at her for a long moment, then his gaze dropped to her shoulders. He said tightly, “Time you were in bed.”

      DESPITE HER EXHAUSTION, Casey slept badly. All that subterfuge, her humiliation aired on national TV, the extreme step of marrying a stranger, and she was no better off than when she had left Parkvale on Friday morning. Her family would be frantic to know what was going on. But perhaps the worst thing was that she hadn’t even thought about Joe since he’d run out on her, aside from a brief urge as she left the stage to murder him by the most violent means possible.

      That compulsion had passed, leaving a curious void.

      It took no great psychological insight to realize how little Joe really meant to her. How could she have planned to marry him? She’d convinced herself she could give him the no-strings love she wanted for herself, when really she was using him to get away from her family.

      In hindsight, she deserved to be dumped. Perhaps not quite so publicly… but she’d brought that on herself.

      Casey allowed the recriminations to chase around in her head as she lay in bed until eight o’clock, when she was sure Adam would have had time to get dressed. She showered, then looked in her suitcase at the clothes she’d packed for her honeymoon. She’d bought a couple of new items, skimpier than she would normally wear, with the idea, she supposed now, of turning Joe on.

      She rejected a strappy top in favor of a white, sleeveless T-shirt, which she teamed with a denim skirt. She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. No way could Adam think she’d dressed to turn him on.

      He was standing at the dining table when she got downstairs. Someone must have brought his luggage during the night. He wore jeans and a black polo shirt, open at the neck. Casey’s gaze was drawn to his bare forearms, tanned and strong, as he lifted the covers off several dishes on a room-service trolley. He pulled a chair out for her, and Casey wiped her palms against the sturdy fabric of her skirt as she sat down.

      “I ordered breakfast,” he said. “It’s not safe to go down to the restaurant. The manager tells me a couple of journalists checked into the hotel.”

      Casey helped herself to fruit and yogurt, shaking her head at Adam’s offer of a hot meal. He piled his own plate with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, raised his glass of orange juice to her in salute, and started on his breakfast.

      Casey took a sip of her own juice as she glanced at the newspaper that СКАЧАТЬ