Chapter 7
Caden
This wasn't a date. Something my dick seemed to have forgotten. I held flowers in one hand, a bottle of red in the other, and I nudged the front door open. A delicious scent of herbs and spices welcomed me inside. I hadn't eaten all day and was famished.
Elizabeth's apartment was small but functional. Mismatched frames covered the walls, and were all filled with photos of smiling girls and a woman who looked very much like Elizabeth—if Elizabeth's hair were lighter. There were a few pictures of her with her dad, although she didn't smile half as wide in those. That alone spoke volumes about their relationship.
I walked into a cluttered and cozy sitting room. Holistic health books sat in piles, and CDs and more books filled shelves. A yoga mat sat by a window that offered a view of the street, and if you squinted, you could see the ocean.
When Elizabeth and I married, I wouldn't need much room, because I intended to stay in the city as much as possible, but her apartment was so small and stuffed with knickknacks, there was no way two of us could cohabitate, no matter how short of a period it was for. We would kill each other in such a small space.
There was nothing else for it, I'd have to buy an investment property somewhere on the peninsula. Somewhere we could consider neutral ground—our very own version of Switzerland. A place that looked like our love nest in case we got a visit from an immigration officer.
Elizabeth strolled out of the kitchen in her bare feet. Her hair sat in a messy knot on top of her head, and her cheeks were flushed as if she's spent the last hour being thoroughly fucked. Shame the baggy jumper she wore hid most of her curves, but her leggings clung to her in all the right places.
I wanted to pull the jumper over her head and discover what lay beneath. I also wanted to shake her hair loose and run my fingers through the messy strands. And most of all, I wanted to taste her skin.
Too bad she was resistant to my charm, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It would make for an easier, if not entirely exciting, partnership. If she were any other woman, I would do anything and everything I could to have her writhing beneath me.
"Hello. Hi," she said. "Sit. Wine? Beer?"
"Whatever's easier." I smiled and handed her the flowers and wine. "These are for you."
"Wow. Great. Thanks."
"How's your dad doing?"
"Good. Stable."
If she was going to spend all night talking in single syllables, we would have an interesting evening.
She grabbed the flowers from my outstretched hand and buried her nose in the petals. Her eyes closed as she inhaled their scent and her shoulders lowered.
"Lilies and roses are my favorites. Rose oil has a million different uses. Excellent for your skin." Away from the stresses and strains of the club, she was happy, and for the first time, I saw a genuine smile lift up her lips.
"We'll have to talk to the landscapers about planting some rose bushes for you."
"That's sweet, but it wouldn't work."
With the flowers in one hand and the wine in the other, she padded toward the kitchen, if it could be called a kitchen, there was barely enough room for her.
"Therapeutic grade roses have to be free of chemicals and pesticides and fed a particular diet. My thumbs are black, not green. They leave a trail of dead plants and flowers in their wake. My victims fill the garden."
"My mam could help you there. She's known for her prize-winning flowers." Why had I said that? I had no intention of ever introducing her to my mother or, for that matter, any of my siblings.
"I hardly think your mom will help me with anything. Imagine how that meeting would go. I'm sure she'd be ecstatic at meeting your fake wife and discussing the benefits of compost over manure."
"Sorry. Wrong choice of words."
"Hungry?" she asked, changing the subject.
My stomach rumbled and answered for me. "Starving. Whatever you're making smells delicious."
"Save your praise until you taste it. I'm not much of a cook. I usually eat at the club, or I did until we had to let the chef go."
She dug through a drawer and pulled out a wine opener and opened the bottle like a pro. After she had poured two glasses, she handed me one.
"Sláinte." I clinked my glass off of hers. "Here's to a successful partnership."
"Cheers. Here's to not going to prison."
"We're not going to prison."
She took a sip of her wine, then said, "I disagree. Haven't you ever watched the Gérard Depardieu and Andie MacDowell movie Green Card? They think they have the authorities fooled, but at the end, they got caught."
"That's a movie. This is real life. We'll just make sure our answers match."
"You think Gérard and Andie didn't do that?"
"Tell me what brand of face cream you use, and I'll memorize it."
"I make my own."
"Fair enough. I'll tell them that."
"We need to make sure we have our stories completely straight. How we met. How we fell in love. I don't want to risk anything." She set down her glass, removed the crockpot lid and ladled steaming chili into two bowls. "Dress it with what you need." She gestured toward several glass dishes filled with shredded cheese and oyster crackers. "The sour cream's in the fridge. I don't have a dinner table so we can use the coffee table to eat."
She made her way into the sitting room, placed her bowl and glass of wine on the table, lowered herself to the floor in one graceful movement that screamed years of yoga practice, and crossed her legs.
I sat opposite her on the sofa and balanced my bowl on my knees. The cramped space definitely wouldn't work, but how could I convince her to move into a house with me?
"You can have the spare room," she said interrupting my thoughts. "It's small, but we can make it work. The bathroom is small too. Everything is small." She didn't pick up her spoon to eat; instead, she took a gulp of wine and kept her fingers wrapped around the stem.
"Listen," I said, "this is a great apartment, but there's no way I can move in." I spooned some chili into my mouth, and a combination of flavors exploded on my tongue. "I'm not a big fan of ground beef, but this is delicious. And you said you couldn't cook."
"What?" Her eyes widened.
My not liking ground beef seemed to have upset her.
"I said I'm not a big fan of ground beef, but this is spectacular. See we're finding out things about each other already. No one'll suspect a thing."
"Enough about the fucking food." Her grip on the wine glass tightened. "I don't care what meat products you do and don't like. We need to live together. If this is going to work people have to believe we're in love." She snapped her fingers. "Unless we say you wanted to keep your apartment in the city and I wanted to stay here. And we only see each other on weekends."
My brow furrowed and I set my bowl on the table. "We'll buy somewhere nearby and sell it when we get divorced. We'll also keep our own places and only stay in the new house when we have to. But we need to start creating a believable history, so I'll move in enough of my stuff to make it look realistic."
"A new house?" The worry line between her brows deepened. "I don't think so. You could move in here and as soon as we're married and when you get your green card, you can move out. It's only for a few months, right? I can do this as long as I know it's not forever."
"I'm not sure what you've been reading, but we need to stay married for at least three years for me to become a naturalized citizen."
She pushed herself up from the floor and placed her hands on her hips. She was pissed. "Three years. You didn't say anything about you becoming a citizen. A green card was the deal."
"Don't worry. As soon as we've secured the green card, I'll get out of your life and only contact you when necessary."
"But what if we're investigated for fraud? Google said—"
"Google says a lot of things that aren't true. If we play it right, we won't get investigated. We'll keep the house as long as needed. You can even live there if you want. Make it your own."
"Why the fuck would I want to live in a house that isn't mine? This is my home, and I don't want to leave."
I rubbed my weary eyelids. "If anything happens, I'll take the fall. Say you had no idea I was using you for a green card. That none of the blame is yours. Isn't that what Gérard did for Andie. I can even say I fooled you into believing I loved you."
Hurt flashed through her eyes. "Everyone will have no trouble believing that because it wouldn't be the first time it happened."
There was a tinge of bitterness to her words, and she closed her eyes as if to gather composure. Every time she was on the verge of showing some emotion, she reined it in. Why? Was she that restrained in all areas of her life? In bed? Or was that the one place she let go? And as wrong as it was, I badly wanted to find out.
She opened her eyes, and all signs of her previous emotion had vanished. "Fine. We'll go house hunting tomorrow. The old Smith place—Cliffside Cottage—overlooking the beach by the edge of town is up for sale. It needs a lot of work, but it's out of the way and means busybodies won't stick their noses into our business."
"If you think it'll work, let's buy it."
"Is that how everything is with you?" Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Want a house, buy it. Want a country club, buy it. Want a wife, buy her."
I shrugged. "I do what I can to stay ahead. I'm not afraid to admit what I want. To lay it on the table and show every piece of myself. I don't hide behind anything."
"Are you saying I hide?"
I blew out a frustrated breath and stood. "Don't twist my words. I meant you don't ever seem to get excited or angry. It's like you're afraid you'll crack if you show any emotion. You barely showed any emotion when you told me about your dad, and what little emotion you did show, you shut down fast."
"Just because I don't show emotion doesn't mean I don't feel it."
"I bet if I kissed you with everything I had, you wouldn't show a flicker of emotion. I don't think you know how."
If I didn't think she would kick me in the balls, I'd pull her to me and press my lips against hers—but just to prove my point and for no other reason. Damaged women weren't my thing. It seemed everyone she loved had broken her in someway and fixing her wasn't a responsibility I wanted to take on.
Sweaty, fuck-filled nights were never followed by pillow talk and sweet nothings. They were followed by thanks for the shag, and maybe I'll see you around. She needed more than that.
She licked her lips, and her gaze moved to my mouth. "What's kissing me got to do with anything? And since we're on the subject, I'm an excellent kisser. A passionate kisser. No complaints from anyone."
She raised her chin and met my eyes. I wished she hadn't because the need I saw there beckoned like a siren's song.
"Prove it." I invaded her space until she had no choice but to step away.
When her back bumped off the wall, and she had no place to go, I cupped her cheeks and ran the pad of my thumbs over her lips.
The citrusy scent that would forever be hers swirled around me, kicking my senses into overdrive. She was passionate all right. I saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way her body strained to get close to mine.
Her wine laced breath fanned over my chin. I lowered my lips to hers.
Her lips were softer than I'd imagined and a small whimper drifted from her mouth into mine. Intoxicating wasn't the word for our kiss. It consumed me. Owned me.
She wrapped her hands around my biceps, digging her fingers into my muscles.
Her mouth drove me insane, and when her tongue tentatively reached for mine, it took inhuman strength not to strip her naked. I tugged her hair out of its bun and tangled my fingers through the falling strands.
It'd been a long time since one kiss from a woman I didn't know had such a potent effect on me. My balls tingled, and my cock hardened. I pressed my body to hers to show her how much I wanted her. She didn't back away if anything she deepened our kiss.
If kissing her was so all-consuming, what would sex with her feel like.
She broke our kiss and stepped back. Triumph shone in her eyes.
"There. I can kiss. Happy?" The pulse in her neck thundered, and her breath came in short puffs.
"That's one way to describe it."
I untangled my fingers from her hair and reality punched me in the face. Getting involved emotionally or physically was a disastrous idea. But seeing the way her chest rose and fell and the way her swollen lips teased me, I wanted to find out just how disastrous of an idea it was. But before I got the both of us into trouble, and before I did something neither of us could come back from, I stepped away and immediately missed the warmth of her body.
"I think it's time to go. I'll pick you up first thing tomorrow, and we'll go to the house you mentioned. Thanks for dinner."
Her pupils dilated, and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Christ! If that wasn't the sexiest thing, I'd ever seen… I needed to get the hell out of Dodge because if I didn't, I would peel her clothes off and screw her over the coffee table.
"Leaving so soon? Did I show too much emotion for you?"
I laughed, but it was forced and false. "I have things I need to do this evening. We can… talk some more tomorrow." After I'd had a cold shower, a full night's sleep and all of my senses were back in place.
Without waiting for her to say anything else, I legged it from her apartment.
Once in the safety of my car, I slapped my palm against the steering wheel.
"Fucking eejit."
I wouldn't lay another finger on her. If the kiss was anything to go by, she was passionate and sexy and hungry for someone to show her how gorgeous she was. Show her how to let go and release the passion she kept closed inside.
On the beach when I'd proposed my idea, she'd said she wasn't interested in love. Bull-fucking-shit. I tasted it in her kiss. Saw it in her eyes. Maybe she didn't realize love was what she wanted, but she did.
I wasn't the man to give it to her. I'd loved once—no, that was a lie. I'd given my heart twice. I closed my eyes and willed the memories to go back to sleep.
I glanced up at Elizabeth's window not sure what I was expecting to see. To see her gazing mournfully in my direction? For her to hang out of the window and beg me to come back? I was a dick.
Elizabeth Beaufort had been hurt enough in her life, and I didn't want to be the one who hurt her even more because as sure as the sun would rise and set, I would. There was no way I couldn't.