Twelve
Emma was amazed by all the beautiful neon lights in Las Vegas. The city looked like a jeweled nebula, all decked out in every color of the rainbow. She remarked on it to Connor, sitting beside her, holding her hand, in the back of the limo he’d hired.
“It’s a gaudy jewel.” He chuckled. He was quiet for a minute. “Even though it’s a private civil ceremony, I’d like you to wear a wedding gown.”
Her breath caught. “I have a white dress,” she said.
From some thrift shop, he was certain, but he didn’t upset her by saying it. His big fingers contracted. “I’m fairly notorious, and one day people will find out about you. When they do, that wedding photograph is going to be our answer to any negative publicity, if they accuse me of treating you shabbily by marrying you here.”
She wondered how and why, but she only smiled and said, “Okay.” Actually, she was touched that he wanted her in one, despite the reason.
“There’s a high-end wedding dress shop in town. We’ll go there after we get the rings.”
She gnawed her lower lip. She didn’t want him to buy her expensive things, but this was really a necessity, she rationalized.
He leaned close to her ear. “Just don’t imagine that you’re going to keep me out of your bed, ever. I’m dying for you already.”
“Oh, gosh.” She felt her heart running away. “Me, too,” she whispered.
“Rings. Gown. Wedding. Bed. In that order,” he said.
She drew in a breath. “All right.”
* * *
The rings Emma wanted were less expensive than the one the clerk, at Connor’s insistence, showed her.
“But fourteen karat is still gold,” she began.
Connor pulled Emma close. “Eighteen karat gold is more beautiful,” he said. “Look at the most decorative rings in that display case. Most of them will be eighteen karat. It’s softer than fourteen karat, yes, but far more lovely.” He kissed her forehead. “Humor me. You don’t want people to think your husband is cheap, do you?”
She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “Okay, then. Whatever you want.”
He pursed his lips. “Whatever I want?” he teased.
She laughed and pressed close against his side, her face on his shoulder. “Whatever,” she whispered.
“Then pick out what you want and stop worrying about the cost,” he instructed.
“Well, I do see a set I like,” she confessed. “And the design is just incredible.”
He hesitated. “Describe them to me.”
“They’re rubies. The wedding ring has a tear-shaped ruby solitaire. The wedding band has scrolls on it and the rubies are tear-shaped in the band. They’re yellow gold. And they’re just beautiful!” She hesitated. “But I only see them in fourteen karat. And that’s the set I really want.”
“Can you have those rubies reset in the same design in eighteen karat?” Connor asked the clerk, and pulled out a black credit card.
“We can do better than that,” the man replied with a chuckle. “The artist who designed these rings lives locally. He tried to sell me the set in eighteen karat and I turned him down because it’s an unusual design and I wasn’t sure I could find a client who would want to buy them. I’ll give him a call. I’m sure he’ll be willing to bring the set in tomorrow. It will be expensive...”
Connor handed him the credit card. The man’s lower jaw fell open.
“Mr. Sinclair!” he said breathlessly. “Sir, it’s an honor...!”
“It’s a very private honor,” Connor said at once. “My fiancée isn’t used to life in the public eye. I don’t want her hounded by the press. So keep this quiet. Okay?”
The man smiled wistfully. “I’ll do that, sir. Let me make that phone call to the artist. I’ll see if he can bring the rings over today, in fact.”
“Thank you,” Emma told Connor. “I really love the design. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’m a lucky man, Emma,” he said unexpectedly. He pulled her close to his side. “The luckiest man in the world.”
She stood in his embrace and wished with all her heart that she could go back in time and stop herself from ever getting in that speedboat in the first place.
* * *
They ate in the finest restaurants in Las Vegas. They saw a Cirque du Soleil show at one of the casinos. Emma loved them because they were so musical and athletic and creative.
“And you said you didn’t like casinos,” he chided. “Liar.”
She laughed under her breath. “Okay, I like them occasionally.”
“I like crickets occasionally,” he replied, responding to the private joke about his glamorous life and her sedate one.
“You should learn to fish,” she said.
“Fish?”
“Yes. You know, you put worms on a hook and stick them in the water to catch fish.”
“I can catch all the fish I like at the supermarket,” he responded drily.
“Not as much fun as catching it yourself,” she returned. “Fishing is also relaxing.”
“I know something more relaxing,” he said in a velvet tone. He slid his fingers into hers, tangling them sensuously.
Emma forgot about the show onstage, the other people, the whole world. “Me, too,” she whispered back, her voice choked with emotion.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She held his hand and guided him, unobtrusively, to the elevator and back up to their rooms.
Once inside, he closed the door and locked it. His big hands slid around Emma and pulled her close. He felt her inner struggle, mind against body.
“We’re getting married,” he whispered as he began to touch her more intimately. “Engaged couples do this.”
“I know.” She leaned her forehead against him as he started removing clothing. She caught her breath when she felt his callused hands on her bare skin.
“You’re sensual, Emma,” he whispered against her mouth. “I love kissing you. I love touching you. You don’t hold anything back with me.”
“I can’t,” she explained shakily. “You rattle me when you start touching me. Oh!” she gasped as he found a very sensitive spot.
“Where’s the damned bed?”
* * *
He leaned over her, his hands and mouth making a virtual banquet of her while she lay writhing under him, as the pleasure built and built and built.
His mouth lingered on her hard nipples, his tongue teasing them tenderly. “I love your breasts,” he murmured. “Not too big, not too small. Just right.”
She arched her back. She loved it when he touched them, when he kissed them. Even as she thought it, she felt his warm mouth open on one and take it right inside. He suckled it, harder than he meant to as the heat built in him. She moaned and lifted it up to him, aching for more of what he was doing.
He increased the pressure of his mouth. At the same time, his fingers touched her in a new way. She almost leaped off the bed when she felt the incredibly arousing rhythm. Her legs parted even more. She whispered to him, words that would have embarrassed her with anyone else. She writhed under him, her body demanding satisfaction.
He made a sound deep in his throat as he moved over her and, delicately, into her. He lifted his head, aching to see her face, her eyes. He could hear her hunger for him, feel it in the response of her body, the pounding of her heart, her sharp, quick breathing. He was her first lover, and he desperately wanted to see her. But it was impossible. He hated his blindness because he wanted to see Emma in the throes of passion, see her face, her eyes. He groaned as the pleasure rose in him. But he moved into her so slowly that she cried out and tried to pull him down to her.
“Patience,” he breathed into her mouth as his hips moved slowly into contact with hers, and he began to enter her. “Humor me. It will be good, Emma. Very, very good!”
“Torture,” she moaned, her body involuntarily moving against his.
“Yes.” He shifted, the action bringing a harsh moan from Emma. “The sweetest torture there is.”
His hips lifted and fell in a soft, slow rhythm, far too slow for Emma, who was building up to a spectacular release. Her mind focused only on the pleasure that was growing like a hot tide in her body. She shivered and moaned as he found the right movement, the right touch, to bring her to absolute ecstasy.
When she cried out and sobbed, he impaled her, went in deep, so deep that he thought he was going to pass out from the rush of pleasure. A rough sob broke from his tight throat as he went shooting up like a meteor, bursting into a thousand pieces, as he gave himself to the culmination.
Emma watched. It was the first time she had. It intensified what was already almost unbearable delight. She shivered as he throbbed, and her body undulated under him until she went rigid again, shuddering with pleasure so incredibly intense that it was almost painful. And at the last, she almost lost consciousness. Connor’s warm mouth covered hers to stifle her cries, which grew louder as the tension snapped and left her trembling all over.
“You’re loud when we make love,” he teased minutes later when they were curled up together under the covers.
“I’m sorry,” she said at once, flushing.
“It wasn’t a complaint, honey,” he whispered. “I love it when I can hear how much pleasure I’m giving you. It almost makes up for not being able to see it.”
Guilt racked her. She moved closer. “I’m so sorry, about your sight...”
He kissed her temple. “Life happens. We can’t look back. We have to go on, however hard it is.”
“I guess we do.”
He stretched lazily. “Your period comes in about another week, doesn’t it?” he asked.
She was shocked that he knew. “Well, yes...”
“I want you to see a doctor and get on birth control,” he said seriously. “No kids. You know that already.”
She’d hoped that he might change his mind. They’d had unprotected sex for several days. Some women weren’t regular in their periods. Emma wasn’t. She usually ovulated about this time in her cycle. It was a dangerous time to make love. But she hadn’t told him. She could dream of a child. He might want it. There was always the hope that he would change his mind when it was a child of his own. He’d had one brother, and no sisters. It was highly likely that the child would be male.
“You’re too quiet,” he said curtly. “Are you brooding about what I said?”
“No,” she lied. “I was thinking how sweet it is to sleep with you.”
He laughed softly, the irritation quickly gone. He drew her closer. “Yes. It is sweet. The sweetest taste of honey I’ve ever had, bar none.”
“Really?” she asked.
He kissed her softly. “Really. You give me insane fulfillment.”
Other women must have, too. She thought of all the women he’d had in his lifetime.
His arm tensed. “It was all before you came along, jealous heart,” he teased, guessing what had caused her to be silent again. “Educational experiences.”
“Not your first wife,” she said quietly.
He shifted in the bed. “No. I loved her.” He was quiet for a minute. “I could never love anybody else like that, with that intensity.” His head turned toward her, and he traced her soft face. “I love sleeping with you, Emma. I enjoy your company. But love...”
“I know,” she said lightly, trying not to betray how desperately she wanted him to love her.
“It’s dangerous to let a woman that close,” he muttered under his breath. “Once was enough. Never again.”
Emma bit her lip to keep from crying. It was hard, to hear a dream die. But there was always hope. Always!
After a minute, she yawned audibly. “Sorry. I’m so sleepy. Does making love always make people this tired?” she wondered aloud.
“When it’s this good, it does,” he replied. He sighed and turned her so that her soft breasts were pressed into the thick hair over his chest. He moved her lazily against him, arousing her all over again. His hand slid down her back. He pulled her closer, and moved his hips, so that they were lying side by side.
He tugged one of her legs over his hips and gently eased inside her. He heard her soft gasp, her intake of breath. He felt her nails biting into him as he moved with her. He hesitated a moment, and she moaned. He knew, then, that it wasn’t weariness that produced those reactions. He caught her hip in one big hand and dragged it into his.
She felt him go into her, so hungrily that she responded immediately. He’d sensitized her to his touch already. This pleasure was beyond her meager experience. He seemed more powerful, more...intimidating. She felt him swell inside her body and she stiffened a little.
“It’s all right,” he soothed her, his voice faintly unsteady as he pushed her hips against his in a quick, hot rhythm. “You can take me. I’m a little more potent this time, that’s all.”
“Okay,” she whispered. She was shivering at the sudden rush to pleasure that took over her body and made her moan as if she were dying.
He positioned his mouth over hers as he increased their rough rhythm. “So our neighbors don’t hear too much of that,” he teased as his mouth went down against hers.
His hips drove into her with a piston-like rhythm, quick and hard and deep. She cried out when she shot up into the stars, her whole body convulsing with such ecstasy that she was certain she was going to die.
He went with her, every step of the way. His big body shuddered over and over again as he throbbed and exploded deep in her body. For some incredible reason, he thought about a baby when he fell into the hot darkness of climax.
Emma was feeling something similar. She clung to him in the aftermath, kissing him everywhere her mouth could reach.
“It was good,” he whispered.
“Yes.” Her voice still sobbed with echoes of the joy he’d given her.
He held her close, enjoying her reaction to him. He buried his face in her soft throat. “It’s never been quite this good for me,” he breathed.
She held him closer. She didn’t like being reminded that he’d had it a lot.
He knew that, but he didn’t say it. He smoothed her supple body against the length of his. “My sweet girl,” he whispered.
Her arms tightened. Tears burned her eyes. “I love you so much, Connor,” she whispered brokenly. “More than anybody in the whole world!”
The words humbled him. Embarrassed him. He ground his teeth together. “Emma...” he began.
“You don’t have to say it. You don’t feel that way for me. It’s okay. I just wanted you to know. I won’t say it again,” she promised.
Odd, how much the words pleased him. But his face set. “Don’t think this is permanent,” he said after a minute, feeling her sudden start. “It suited the situation, but I’m no good at relationships. I don’t believe in forever. We’ll be together until the passion burns out, then we’ll move on.”
Her heart was breaking. She’d hoped... Well, what had hope ever gotten her? She snuggled close to him and didn’t say a word.
His hand brushed her disheveled blond hair. “Did you hear what I said, Emma?” he asked quietly.
“I heard, Connor. I know you’re only marrying me because of my conscience.”
He drew in a troubled sigh. “That’s right,” he said, and he was lying. He was marrying her because he wanted a visible Hands Off! sign on her. Emma belonged to him. He didn’t want men like Cort Grier hitting on her. He wanted...possession.
He felt her softness next to him and experienced the first real peace he’d ever felt. She’d made him slow down, enjoy life, delegate responsibility. She’d changed his life.
But that didn’t mean he’d stay married to her, he assured himself. She wanted a family, children. And he never wanted a child. Ever.
* * *
They were married in a small wedding chapel on the Vegas Strip. Emma wore a couture wedding gown because she couldn’t out-argue Connor. It was a symphony of white lace and satin and handmade white roses that embossed the gown, and were visible on every inch of the Brussels lace that made up the train and the fingertip veil and the lacy gloves she wore. Underneath everything was pure silk. Emma had never had such finery in her life. She felt like Cinderella and worried at the possible ending to her fantasy even as she gloried in the ceremony being performed.
When the minister pronounced them husband and wife, Connor raised the veil, even though he couldn’t see her, and bent to touch his mouth gently to hers. Barnes and Marie, standing nearby, were both misty with emotion.
A professional photographer, sworn to silence, recorded the event. As the camera flashed, Emma laid one soft hand on Connor’s hard cheek. She was so in love with him, and so happy, nothing could ruin this moment. And the way she looked at him was so poignant that the photographer regretted not being able to enter the shot in some competition. He’d never seen such love in a woman’s face, or such sorrow. Odd to capture both in one split second of emotion.
“Mrs. Sinclair,” Connor teased as he kissed her.
“Mr. Sinclair,” she replied saucily.
He felt such a flash of possession that he had to fight it. This wasn’t permanent. He couldn’t let himself be caught up in that tangle. So he laughed and caught her hand in his. They finished the formalities, the marriage license was given to Emma and they went back to the hotel to celebrate.
Emma had a small trousseau—also at Connor’s insistence—so she changed into a cherry-red dress to go out with her new husband. She worried about the color, but he laughed and said at least she’d stand out in a town where glitter went mostly unnoticed. Besides, he added, he thought blondes looked beautiful in red. She sighed and told him beautiful blondes probably did, but she wasn’t beautiful. He just kissed her, assuring her that she was all the beauty he needed in his life. The words were so profound that she had to fight tears.
* * *
Barnes and Marie went on a casino crawl with them, all over Vegas. They saw floor shows and danced and drank and generally had a ball. Connor wasn’t recognized once. In a city of strangers, it wasn’t odd.
“Corrupting influence,” Emma accused when they were briefly alone.
He chuckled. “You needed a little corruption,” he retorted. “Everything improves with a little spice.”
“I wish you hadn’t gone to so much expense on my clothes,” she said quietly. “I would have been happy with just a wedding dress, even if it was off the rack.”
He knew that, and it humbled something inside him. “I told you why,” he added. “I’m not having people say I was cheap if they find out we had a honeymoon and your clothes came out of a thrift store.” He sounded absolutely horrified at the prospect.
She wasn’t offended. She just smiled. “I lived within my means,” she said simply. “Most people do. The ones who don’t are usually in jail,” she added pertly. “If I got thrown in the slammer, who’d do your typing?” A shiver went through her as she said the words. She grew cold all over. It was a possibility.
He just laughed. “You can live within my means now,” he teased. “Having fun, honey?”
“The time of my life,” she assured him. “I’ve never been so happy!”
He could have said that, too. But he didn’t. She had a hold on him that he hated. He was obsessed with her body, but also with her mind and her heart. She’d changed him from a somber, indifferent, vindictive man into one who cared intensely about other people. It was a shift that she might not have been aware of. She brought out the very best in him, made him hungry for her, nurtured him. He couldn’t imagine life without her, despite what he’d told her, about the marriage ending when the passion burned out. Even without passion, Emma was part of him. He knew it, even if he couldn’t admit it.
“Let’s find another club,” he said in her ear. “This one’s too loud!”
She laughed. “Okay.”
* * *
They went home a week later. But it was only the first of many trips she was to take with him. He took her to Cancún, to Morocco. They spent a magical Christmas in Paris and had roast goose and all the trimmings at one of the most famous restaurants in the City of Light. Later, he booked them onto a Mediterranean cruise and remained anonymous throughout the whole thing, which wound through Italy and the Greek islands, all the way to Spain.
They stopped by his home in Nice, so that Emma could see what the ancient, elegant old home looked like, and meet his newest chef Edward, who was tall and very attractive. But her reaction to him was that of a woman madly in love with her husband, and it seemed to set Connor’s mind at ease. They spent a week on the Riviera lounging on the beach, and another week touring the sites in the surrounding area aboard the yacht of one of Connor’s friends. Emma had been nervous at first, but she discovered that people with money were pretty much like people without it. Some were nice, some weren’t.
In the midst of the whirlwind, Emma hadn’t had time to talk to a doctor. She wondered if Connor was really that insistent about not having children, because he made love to her all the time, day and night, and never seemed to care about taking precautions. It was as if his subconscious and his conscience were at war over the thought of a child.
Emma hoped that was the case, because about two months after they married, she threw up her breakfast. Fortunately, she was alone in the lake house when it happened. They’d arrived home just two days before, weary from the long honeymoon. Connor had received a phone call that left him quiet and brooding. He’d gone into town with Barnes, after saying barely a word to Emma.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Emma asked Marie, and hoped she didn’t sound as apprehensive as she felt.
Marie grimaced. “Something about the accident that caused his blindness, but I don’t know what,” she confessed, unaware of Emma’s sudden anguish. “He hired a private detective. I don’t know what he thinks he can find out after all this time,” she added softly. “It’s been months since it happened.”
“I know.” Emma pulled apart lettuce for a salad they were making. “What did the detective tell him, do you know?”
Marie shook her head. “He was very quiet about it. Barnes said he was smoldering, but he didn’t say a word. He thinks Mr. Sinclair found out something about the accident—that maybe it wasn’t really an accident.”
But it was, Emma groaned inwardly. It was absolutely an accident. She’d never meant to hurt him, even when she thought he was a horrible stuffed shirt.
If he ever found out it was her...
She closed her eyes and shivered. He’d be sure that she’d played him, as he’d called it once before. He’d think she maneuvered him into marriage because she wanted what he had. Nothing was further from the truth. She loved him. She had his child growing in her body.
If he found out about the baby, she knew he’d force her to terminate it. She could refuse, but he’d said once that he’d go all the way to the Supreme Court if he had to, to stop a pregnancy he didn’t want. There were ways, even illegal ways, that she could be made to give up the child.
She felt protective of it already. She wanted it, with all her heart. She knew Connor didn’t love her. He’d only wanted her. But the child was part of him, a small part that she could keep and love and nurture.
The trouble was going to be keeping him from finding out. She’d have to go back to Texas and try to hide. She worried about Connor’s wealth. If he really wanted to find her, if he thought he needed to find her, the Griers couldn’t hide her. There would be no place on earth that would be safe for her and a baby he didn’t want.
* * *
He didn’t come back for hours. When he did, his face was pale under its olive tan, and he looked absolutely devastated.
“Is something wrong?” Emma asked worriedly.
His jaw tightened. “I’m expecting Alistair,” he replied. “When he comes, send him into the office.”
“Yes, of course. Do you want me to—”
“I don’t want anything from you, Emma,” he said icily. He turned and felt his way along the hall to the office door. He opened it and went in, slamming it behind him.
Marie exchanged a worried glance with Emma. That didn’t sound like the happy man of recent weeks, since their marriage.
Emma had a premonition that made her sicker than the pregnancy did. She ate a salad, noting that Connor refused any food. She heard the clink of ice in a glass when Marie had gone to the door to ask if he was coming to lunch. He was drinking, and it was barely noon. He never did that.
He must have found out something. But maybe if she was careful, she could get him to listen. She’d tell him the truth, something she should have done when it first happened. She should have told him the day she went to work for him. Now it was too late.
She wondered why he didn’t call her in and give her hell. If he knew, he must want to. But he just waited.
After lunch, a car pulled up outside. Alistair Sims, his attorney, came into the house.
“What’s going on?” he asked in a hushed voice, scowling. “I couldn’t make heads nor tails of what he said to me. And he’s made a phone call—”
The opening of the office door cut him off. “Alistair, is that you?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Come in here. Now.”
Alistair grimaced as he looked at Emma’s guilty face. Whatever was going on it involved her, he was willing to bet. “On my way.”
Then another car pulled up. A door slammed. Two men got out. One of them was wearing the uniform of the local sheriff’s department. Another was with the Department of Natural Resources Law Enforcement Division.
The office door opened as they entered and Alistair invited them inside, with a painful glance at Emma.
So he knew. She was certain of it now. Why were the law enforcement officials here? Her heart stopped. Surely, he wasn’t going to have her arrested. Not after all this time?
“What in the world is going on?” Marie asked, aghast.
Emma wanted to tell her, to explain. But even as the thought presented itself, the office door opened one last time.
“Emma,” Connor called coldly. “Come in here.”
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked slowly toward the office, feeling small in her jeans and sweater and sneakers, with her long hair down around her pinched face.
She walked into the office and closed the door behind her. Four masculine faces turned toward her. Pity was in Alistair’s eyes. The others were less readable. Connor’s were merciless.
“You worked for Mamie van Dyke,” Connor said shortly.
Her heart fell into her shoes. “Yes, sir,” she said softly.
“You ran the boat into me.”
She drew in a painful breath. “Yes. But not deliberately. The sun—”
“I don’t care about any more lies!” he said, and brought his fist down hard on the surface of the oak desk, shaking the floor. “You hit me. You blinded me! Then you moved into my house and pretended to be someone you weren’t. You lied to me!”
She bit her lower lip. “I wanted to tell you,” she said, choked with emotion. “But I didn’t know how.”
“You liked it here, didn’t you?” he asked, his expression so sarcastic that it hurt. “Nice things to wear, expensive trips around the world, clothes you didn’t find in some thrift shop!”
Her eyes fell to the floor. “Those things didn’t matter.”
“Hell! Of course they mattered. They’re all that did matter. You played me like a violin, Emma.”
She tried to speak, but he turned to the law enforcement people. “Alistair?” he prompted.
Alistair gave Emma a sad and regretful look before he produced a paper out of his briefcase and handed it to the deputy. “It’s an arrest warrant,” he explained.
Emma stared helplessly at the warrant. She’d never been in trouble with the law in her whole life. She didn’t know anybody who had been, except a classmate in high school who’d passed a bad check. He was going to send her to jail.
The worst thing was that she didn’t have a defense. It was an accident, but he had every reason to believe she’d done it on purpose. He’d called her down about speeding in the boat, he’d made her cry at Mamie’s party, he’d insulted her on the shore of the lake when she’d run into him there after the party. He only knew the Emma of his earlier acquaintance as someone unpleasant. He couldn’t seem to connect her with the Emma he did know.
“Come here, Emma,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
She went to him, wondering if he might change his mind, if he was having second thoughts.
He caught her arm and slid down it to her fingers. He tore off her wedding and engagement rings and threw them violently across the room. “Just so you understand,” he said icily. “I’ll send Alistair over to the jail with the divorce papers. You’ll sign them,” he added furiously. “And if you turn up pregnant, you’ll get rid of it or you’ll never get out of jail. Do you understand me?”
She swallowed. Her face was flour pale. “Yes, sir.” He was scary like that. Scary like her father used to be when he drank, when he hit her. Connor’s breath was alcohol scented. The glass on his desk was empty. It smelled like whiskey. He almost never drank hard liquor. It was an indication of how upset he was.
“Get her out of here,” Connor said, turning away.
The deputy put handcuffs on her. She stood with her eyes on the floor. She never said a word, not even when they took her out the door and put her in the squad car. She was completely silent all the way to the detention center.