The Inconvenient Bride - By Anne McAllister Page 0,37
blue eyes were almost midnight. He let out a harsh breath. “I don’t know.” He slammed a fist into his other palm.
At least, Sierra thought, he was being honest. She supposed she ought to be glad of that. “When you do know,” she said politely, “I’d appreciate your telling me.”
He snorted. “You’ll be the first to know.” The words hissed through his teeth.
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded frosty, her heart was more so. She felt like ice, brittle and cold, about to crack.
“If you want one…” Dominic began, then stopped.
She shook her head. “I won’t be leaving until I can pay my debts.”
“I told you—”
“No,” she said fiercely. “When I make a deal, Wolfe, I make a deal. I intend to keep it. I married you. For better or worse,” she said bitterly.
“But you won’t just sleep with me.”
They stared at each other, Dominic challenging, Sierra despairing.
“At the present time,” she said in a quiet voice that she hoped to God didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, “I don’t think that would be advisable.”
She didn’t think it would be “advisable”!
Dominic swore and slammed his fist on the mattress as he stared up at the ceiling above his bed. His very wide, very empty bed.
“Well, you let me know when you think it is,” he’d said with his best sarcastic sneer as they’d faced each other in the kitchen hours before. And then he’d stalked out. He’d grabbed his briefcase and holed up in his study, trying to do the work he’d brought home so he wouldn’t obsess over Sierra every minute he was with her.
Yeah, sure.
He hadn’t got a damn thing done. He’d spent the rest of the evening staring at meaningless drivel on paper while his mind played and replayed everything that had happened that evening over again.
And while he played it over he heard her crashing dishes and pots and pans around in his kitchen. Slamming cupboards. Banging drawers.
Like she had a right to be angry because he didn’t want to go on a honeymoon. Because he didn’t want them to spend every minute in each other’s pocket. Because he didn’t want what she wanted in this marriage!
If she’d wanted that sort of marriage, damn it all, she shouldn’t have married him!
Why would she do anything so stupid as say yes to a man she’d only spent one glorious night with—if she wanted a traditional marriage?
It didn’t make a bloody bit of sense.
Nor did it make sense that she was sleeping down the hall and he was here alone in his bed!
But that’s where she was. She’d come upstairs while he was working in the bedroom he used as a study, and when he went past the room where he’d had the movers put her stuff, the door was closed and locked.
He knew it was locked because he’d tried the handle. Lightly. Carefully. So she wouldn’t even notice. It hadn’t moved.
He’d debated just walking on by and ignoring it, but finally, annoyed, he’d said loudly, “You’re being juvenile, Sierra.”
She didn’t reply.
He rattled the door handle.
No response.
“Childish,” he said loudly.
Still nothing.
Damn her! How could she do this? He’d waited all day for her!
Well, fine, if that was the way she was going to be, she could just lie in there by herself all night. He didn’t need her.
He didn’t need anyone!
Five hours later he was still telling himself the same thing.
And pretty well convinced that Sierra was stubborn enough not to think going to bed with him was going to be “advisable” tonight.
He rolled over onto his side, pounded the pillow and thumped his head down onto it. Then he stared across the expanse of bed that, last night, he had shared with Sierra. One night and she had infiltrated his bedroom as if she’d been there forever.
He rolled over again, turning his back on the side where she’d slept—and remembered how she’d snuggled up behind him and slid her arms around him, how her hand had—
Cripes! He had to stop this!
His body remembered even better than his mind. And certain parts of his body were not happy at all.
And lying there thinking about what he wasn’t getting wasn’t making them any happier. He threw off the covers, threw a T-shirt on over his boxers, and went out into the hall. Not a sound emanated from behind Sierra’s locked door.
He wondered if she was asleep.
He hoped she wasn’t.
He wanted her suffering as much as he was. That would show her how “advisable” sleeping alone was!
“Well, that was the