Billionaire Bachelors: Stone Page 8

  It might be the only thing that kept him from grabbing his young bride and ravishing her for the remaining fifty-one weeks of what was shaping up to be one damned long year.

  He heaved a sigh, propping his elbows on the counter and pressing the heels of his palms against his temples. God, but Faith was making it difficult to be noble! He had no intention of seducing her. It would be despicable of him to use her that way for the brief term of their marriage and then discard her when they split up, as they intended to do.

  And maybe if he kept telling himself that long enough, he’d believe it. He could hear her first thing in the morning, moving around in her bathroom, humming in the shower, removing hangers from her closet and replacing them. His active imagination supplied visual details in Technicolor. She joined him over breakfast, no matter how early he got up, and her soft farewell was the last thing he heard before he left. In the evening, she always came to greet him at the door with a smile, taking his coat and preparing dinner while he changed into casual clothes. It was a treat not to have to eat alone all the time.

  And then there was her relationship with her mother. Faith and Naomi were closer than they had any right to be, considering how little they’d really seen of each other during Faith’s adolescent years. They teased and smiled, shared stories about Faith’s father, worked crossword puzzles together, and genuinely seemed to treasure each moment spent together. It was such a marked contrast to his relationship with his own mother that he could get jealous if he let himself think about it long enough. Sure, he’d imagined that normal families had relationships like that, but until he’d seen exactly how close and loving Faith and her mother were, it had been an abstract concept. Now, thanks to them, it was a reality.

  He could hear them laughing right now as they came in from an early walk—or drive, in Naomi’s case—through Central Park, across the street from the town house. In a moment, they were in the kitchen.

  “We’re back.” Faith greeted him with a smile as she helped her mother out of her coat and took it to hang in the closet. “It’s a beautiful day. Spring is definitely on the way.”

  “The prediction is for snow by the first of the week,” he warned her.

  “But it won’t last,” she said confidently.

  Naomi directed her motorized scooter toward her own apartment down the hall from the kitchen and the two of them were left alone. An awkward moment of silence passed.

  Then Faith cleared her throat. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

  “Um, nothing special,” he said. “Tonight there’s a dinner and ball but we have most of the day before we have to start getting ready for that.”

  “That reminds me,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to wear to the ball? I have those dresses we bought last week, remember?”

  He remembered. And his blood heated. Though she hadn’t modeled them for him, he’d had several long, detailed daydreams. “How about the blue?” he said.

  “All right.” She cleared her throat. “Actually, if you have time, I’d like you to look at some fabric swatches and paint colors for the den. I can order things next week.”

  He didn’t really want to spend any more time alone with her than he absolutely had to, but she vanished before he could think of a good reason not to look at the samples. A few moments later she reappeared clutching a large folder and two wallpaper books. He folded up his paper and efficiently, she spread everything out on the counter. Her slim figure, clad in blue jeans and a clinging pale yellow sweater, was so close he could smell the clean scent of her hair, and her shoulder brushed against his side as she moved. “Here you go.” She pulled one of the wallpaper books toward them. “The first thing you need to do is decide on the walls. Then we’ll go from there.”

  “You’re really happy to have your mother here, aren’t you?” Good God. Why had he said that?

  Her fingers stilled on the books. “Yes. Thank you again.”

  “No,” he said impatiently. Hell, he’d started this, he might as well find out what he really wanted to know. “I mean, you’re enjoying her company, not just putting on a polite act.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Why on earth would I do that? Of course I’m enjoying her company. No, I take that back. I’m loving it. At school, there were nights when I cried myself to sleep, missing her so much. It wasn’t that the school was a terrible place,” she said hastily as he frowned. “The staff members were actually very caring and mostly I was happy. And I could call Mama every day if I liked. But it still wasn’t the same.”

  “No, I guess it wasn’t.” He could hear the longing in her voice as she relived those days and he felt a surprising kinship. “But you understood how difficult it would have been for her to try to care for you at home. You knew she would have done it if she could.”

  She turned and looked at him, her gray eyes far too wise and understanding. “I think your mother cares, too. Maybe it wasn’t as easy for her to leave you as you think.”

  “I don’t think about it,” he said. He didn’t want her pitying him, thinking he’d had a miserable childhood. “My father and I got along fine without her.”

  She didn’t say a word, only studied him.

  “She could have pretended she cared,” he said, goaded by her silence. “Would it have killed her to let a little kid think he meant something special to her?”

  Faith laid her small hand on his arm and he realized how tense he was. “I don’t know,” she said. “Have you ever asked her?”

  He consciously relaxed his muscles, feeling the tension drain out of him. “No.” He reached forward and pulled the wallpaper books toward him. This conversation was pointless. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Now why don’t you show me what you have in mind?”

  She continued to gaze at him for a long moment, and he kept his eyes on the books. He didn’t want her pity. Sure, he’d been hurt by his mother’s indifference when he was small, but he was a grown man now, and her approval had long ceased to matter to him.

  “All right,” she finally said. She rested one hand on the back of his chair and opened the topmost book with the other. The action placed her breasts just below eye level, inches away, and he couldn’t prevent himself from covertly assessing the rounded mounds. “Here you go. The first thing to decide on is—”

  “Look.” He pushed back his chair and rose before he gave in to the fantasy that had leaped into his head. “I want you to like the den, too,” he said. “I don’t need to approve it. I’m sure whatever you choose will be fine.”

  “You’re the one who’s going to have to live with it after I leave,” she pointed out.

  After I leave… The words echoed in the air around them and he was shocked by the strong urge to blurt out “Don’t leave!”

  But he didn’t say it. Instead images of his life a year from now, when Faith and her family were gone and he was rattling around this place alone again, bombarded him. He liked having Naomi and Clarice around, dammit! And he more than liked having Faith around. For one brief instant he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to grow old with her, to stay married to her on a permanent basis. The thought was so tantalizingly appealing that he immediately shoved it away.

  Abruptly he turned his back and started out of the room. “I don’t have time to deal with this now.”

  Five

  That evening, Faith showered and shampooed, then rubbed silky cream into her skin and rolled her hair in large hot rollers that left it frothy and bouncy around her shoulders. It would be a lie, she thought as she applied a heavier-than-normal makeup suitable for evening, if she didn’t feel the slightest bit pleased by his reaction to her in the morning. When she’d stood close to Stone at the breakfast bar, he definitely had been uncomfortable. And she was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was worried about her decorating skills. She’d noticed him looking at her body out of the corner of his eye. And before that, he’d talked about his mother.

&nbs
p; Okay, those few sentences weren’t much to go on, but she couldn’t expect him to be too voluble at first. That would come later, after they’d gotten closer, she hoped. She slipped into a strapless bra and panties and donned the pretty Escada with the silver trim that Stone had asked her to wear. The Prada heels and a small silver clutch bag completed the ensemble and as she glanced into the full-length mirror in the bathroom, a small thrill ran through her.

  She’d never owned anything so beautiful before. Thanks to the snug bodice of the strapless dress and the bra beneath it, she had genuinely respectable cleavage. The silver and blue layers of the full skirt swayed as she left her room and walked down the stairs to meet Stone.

  He was standing in the archway to the formal front room with his back to her as she rounded the turn on the landing and continued down toward him, one hand lightly trailing on the banister as a precaution, since she wasn’t used to such high heels. When he heard her footsteps he turned—

  And for one long, strangely intense moment, the air seemed to shimmer between them. His gaze started at her toes and swept up her body, leaving her quivering in reaction and her steps slowed and stopped as his eyes bored into hers. She simply stood, halfway down the steps, held immobile by that gaze and she felt her breath quicken as a heavy, unfamiliar pressure coiled low in her abdomen.

  Finally Stone cleared his throat. “I’ll be the envy of every man in the room.”

  The spell was broken but she was warmed by his words. “That would be nice,” she said, finishing her descent and stopping in front of him. “I’ll try to be an asset to you.”

  Stone smiled but it looked a little strained and she realized the barrier he’d put between them earlier in the day was still firmly in place. Then he smiled. “The first time I ever met you, you had a ponytail so long you could sit on the end of it. It’s a little disconcerting to see you looking so grown-up and gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. I think.” She wasn’t particularly pleased with the hint that he still thought of her as a child, and she knew he’d done it deliberately. But she didn’t comment. “You look very nice, too. I’ve never seen you in a tux before.”

  “A necessary evil.” He dropped her hand and turned away, picking up a small box from an etagere beneath a large gilt-framed mirror. “I have a wedding gift for you.”

  She was dismayed. “But…I didn’t get anything for you.”

  “Agreeing to this charade was gift enough.” He lifted her limp hand from her side and pressed the velvet case into it. “Open it.”

  Automatically she lifted the other hand to support the box, which was heavier than she’d expected. “Stone, I—”

  “Open it,” he said again, impatience ripe in his tone. “Don’t forget you’re Mrs. Stone Lachlan now. People would talk if I didn’t have you dripping with gems.”

  Slowly she nodded, then bent her head and pried open the hinged box. And gasped.

  Nestled on black velvet was a necklace of brilliant blue sapphires and diamonds. The alternating colored stones glinted gaily in the light from the crystal chandelier overhead, smaller stones back near the ornate platinum clasp gently graduating in size to a significant sapphire anchor in the middle. Matching tear-drop earrings were fastened to the velvet as well.

  She was speechless. Literally. Her mouth was as dry as a bone. There was nothing she could do but stare at the striking jewelry, not even blinking. Never, in her entire life, had she seen stones like these up close and personal. Unless you counted the glass display behind which the Hope Diamond rested at the Smithsonian in Washington.

  Stone took the box from her and removed the necklace. “Turn around.”

  Obediently she turned around, and in a moment she felt the cool weight of the platinum and gems against her skin as Stone’s fingers grazed her nape. This felt like a dream. Just weeks ago, she’d been waiting on customers at Saks; today she was married to one of the wealthiest men in the country and he was showering her with clothing and jewels. A few months ago, she’d been a college student with no idea that every penny of her education was being paid for out of the goodness of someone’s heart.

  Flustered and agitated, she whipped around to face Stone. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” He raised his hands and clasped her upper arms gently, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over the sensitive flesh.

  She shivered as goose bumps popped up all over her body and a quick zing of mouth-drying, breath-shortening attraction shot through her. She was so close she could see the flecks of amber and gold amid the blue in his irises when she looked up and abruptly she realized her change of position had placed them in a decidedly intimate pose. Her breasts grazed the solid expanse of tuxedo-clad chest and the way in which he held her made her feel strangely small and delicate.

  “You know.” She stepped back a pace and raised her hands to try to unclasp the necklace. “Pretend to be your wife—”

  “There’s nothing pretend about it, Faith,” he said. “You are my wife.”

  “Not in every way,” she said steadily though she knew she was blushing and her whole body felt trembly and weak.

  His hands dropped away from her as if her skin burned his flesh. “No,” he said. “That was our agreement.”

  “We could…change the terms, if we wanted to.” She didn’t know where she’d found the courage to speak to him so frankly, but she was conscious of every hour of her year sliding by.

  But he was shaking his head. “No. It’s normal for us to be attracted to each other in a situation like this. But acting on it would be a huge mistake.” He took the box from her and removed the earrings, then handed them to her as matter-of-factly as if they hadn’t just had the most intimate conversation of their acquaintance. “Put these on and then we’ll go.”

  She wanted to say more but she didn’t have the courage. He’d turned her down flat, crushing her hopes. Numbly she fastened the earrings through her ears and picked up her small purse again.

  “Aren’t you even going to look at them?” Stone took her shoulders and angled her to look in the mirror over the table. Reflected back was an elegant, beautiful woman wearing a stunning sapphire-and-diamond collar and matching earrings. Behind her, his hands possessively cupping her shoulders, was a tall, handsome man in a tuxedo, confidence oozing from every pore.

  A perfect match. She turned away from the mirror, fighting tears. They looked so right together, confirming her feelings. How could he think making love would be a mistake?

  “What is this fund-raiser for?” Faith asked as they stepped into the grand ballroom a little while later.

  Stone grinned, feeling a spark of genuine amusement as he anticipated her response. “It’s not quite the typical political occasion,” he said. “It’s for WARR.”

  “War?” Her eyebrows rose.

  “Wild Animal Rescue and Rehabilitation. The organization rescues lions, cheetahs, tigers, elephants, bears…you name it, from bad situations. They restore them to health and place them in zoos, parks and other habitats where they’ll be able to live in peace.”

  She nodded, her eyes lighting up. “That’s wonderful. I read an article about Tippi Hedren’s efforts with the great cats recently. It’s horrifying to hear some of the stories about the way those poor animals are forced to live.”

  “It’s also horrifying that people think they’ll make great pets.” He took her hand and directed her toward a large display near the entrance, where guests were perusing photos and stories about WARR’s work. “A child in Wyoming recently was killed by a tiger that her neighbor owned as a pet—uh-oh.” Catching sight of the woman bearing down on them, he squeezed her hand once in warning. “Brace yourself. We’re about to face the inquisition.”

  “Stone Lachlan!” It was a woman’s voice, booming and imperious. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

  Stone kissed the rouged cheek of the tiny woman who approached. “Mrs. deLatoure. What a pleasure. I’ve been working rather than hiding, but I’m glad I t
ook a break tonight. Otherwise, I might have missed seeing you.”

  The little woman beamed. “Outrageous flattery. Feel free to continue.”

  Eunicia deLatoure was the widowed matriarch of one of the country’s wealthiest, oldest wine-making families. Her sons had taken over the business a few years ago when her husband had passed away but the widow deLatoure was still a force to be reckoned with. Rumor had it that her sons ran every major decision by her before plunging into anything. Having met her quiet, deferential sons before, Stone didn’t doubt it.

  He slipped an arm around Faith’s waist then and drew her forward, enjoying the feel of her slender body in his grasp as he made a perfunctory introduction. This night was going to be both heaven and hell. Especially now that he knew what she was thinking. Did she have any idea what she was asking for? He seriously doubted it. He was pretty sure she was still a virgin. Damn, that was the wrong thing to think about!

  “Your bride! I just read about your engagement a few days ago.” The woman’s eyes flew wide and the stentorian tones turned heads throughout a solid quadrant of the ballroom. She leveled a piercing gaze on Faith. “Congratulations, my dear. I assume this is a recent development.”

  “Very recent. We’re still in the honeymoon stage.” Stone answered before Faith could open her mouth. “And we’re feeling quite smug to have kept it a secret from the press.”

  The matriarch chuckled. Then her gaze sharpened as she pinned Faith with that gimlet eye again. “It’s delightful to meet you. Is your family in attendance tonight?”

  It was a blatant attempt to ferret out Faith’s pedigree, he knew. “No.” He answered before she could speak. “Just me.” He pulled her closer to his side. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. D. Say hello to Luc and Henri for me.”

  As he steered Faith away, she said, “I could have spoken for myself, you know. The woman probably thinks you married a mute.”