The Man's Outrageous Demands Page 0,42

he’d been an only child and didn’t want to do that to other kids. He’d always missed having siblings. He liked the idea of sharing dinner almost every night, sitting down and each person discussing the events of the day.

“How many children do you want to have?” he asked, more curious than he wanted to admit to her answer.

Although the light was dim, Sam still saw her blush in the candlelight. “Um…well, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Why not? If you’ve always known you’d be married, I would have thought that would be an important decision that was made early in life.”

She put her fork down and delicately wiped her mouth. “It was never really discussed before.”

“Why is that?” he persisted. He could sense her desire to change the subject but that only roused his curiosity even more.

Marabeth looked off to the side of the veranda. She wanted to be completely honest with him but she feared that her honesty might reveal too much about her feelings for him. She suspected that he would pull it out of her one way or another so it was better to be completely honest with him up front. “Because I’d never really wanted George to touch me,” she said softly.

Sam was silent, waiting patiently for her to explain that comment. But when she simply picked up her fork and took another bite, he realized that she wasn’t going to elaborate. “And did he?” Sam asked, instantly furious at the man even though he’d passed away over two years ago. If he were still around, Sam knew he’d punch the man and then drag Marabeth out of his reach.

Marabeth shook her head, looking him straight in the eye this time and he saw the mischief immediately. “Not really. I did as much as I could to discourage that,” she laughed.

Sam felt the tension leave his body with her answer. He didn’t discount her musical laughter either. “How did you do that?”

She smiled and Sam again noticed the deviltry in her eyes. He’d always thought she was more sedate and controlled but he was discovering that she wasn’t as passive as one might think. “I would wear awful clothes so he wouldn’t want to be seen with me around his friends. And since he always wanted to be around his friends, that helped limit our time together significantly.”

He raised one eyebrow, then his glance swept over her simple, chic outfit, admiring the way the sweater hugged her curves. “What do you mean? You dress beautifully.”

Marabeth was looking down at her plate so she missed his glance or she would have blushed. Thankfully, she was blissfully unaware of his lascivious thoughts as she explained, “I would intentionally wear bright pinks or loud reds. Anything that would bring out my freckles and clash with my red hair. And anything that wasn’t very fashionable or something that was extremely faddish. George was very conservative and didn’t like anything trendy. He was an important member of the British Parliament so image was everything to George. His political aspirations were strong and he’d intended to run for Prime Minister at some point. So I’d go to great lengths to make sure I was at the very height of fashion no matter how garish it looked on me or if the occasion was inappropriate,” she laughed.

“Sounds malicious. I guess I should be flattered that you aren’t sporting a beret or something?”

Her eyes widened at his misassumption. “Oh, no. I just haven’t figured out how to push your buttons,” she teased. “George was easy. You’re more complicated. I don’t think you have any buttons to push. But I’m still searching!” she laughed.

He considered letting her live in ignorance, but he liked the way she was finally sharing with him so he decided to share a little something with her back. “You’ve found them,” he grimaced.

”I have?” she asked, surprised. “What were they? I must have missed them.”

He chuckled at her excited expression. He would only share so much. She’d have to work to figure out more if she really wanted to push his buttons. “Well, if you didn’t notice, then I’m definitely not going to tell you,” he joked.

She looked at him for a long moment then shook her head. “You’re lying. You don’t have any buttons,” she said.

“Depends on what kind of button you’re pushing.”

Marabeth knew he wasn’t referring to his temper now so she self-consciously dropped the subject. “I think it is your turn for a question,” she said.

“I can’t