glanced up to see him
watching her curiously.
"Well?" Anne prompted expectantly.
"We decided to pass me off as your fiancé, remember?"
"So?"
"So, I'll sleep in here. If you're really sure this is the room you want,"
Julian added in resignation. He eyed the draped bed morosely.
Anne took a deep breath, telling herself to take it carefully. There was
something rather substantial about him as he stood in the middle of the
fantasy room. In his gray sweater and dark jeans, he appeared as a solid,
rather forbidding note against all the ornamental splendor of the
bedroom.
"Julian, you're playing the role of my fiancé. You are not actually going
to marry me, if you'll recall," she said dryly. "Our engagement is as much a
piece of fiction as this room itself is."
He moved forward slowly, tawny eyes darkening. "What's wrong with a
little fantasy, lady? Didn't you enjoy the dream we shared that night you
arrived at the cabin?"
"Julian…" Anne stepped hastily back as he lifted a hand to stroke the
side of her cheek. "Go find a room of your own. You're not staying here."
His expression darkened. "Craven will be suspicious if we're not
sleeping together."
"No, Craven will not be suspicious. Why should he be? A lot of couples
maintain a certain image of propriety during an engagement," she
snapped.
"You and I," he stated with grave certainty, "would definitely be
sleeping together. And I wouldn't care who knew it. I'd want everyone to
know."
"Craven doesn't have to know you feel so strongly on the subject," Anne
reminded him rather tartly. Matters were getting dangerous. Julian
seemed to have convinced himself that playing the part of her fiancé
automatically gave him a few rights. No wonder he had jumped at the
idea when she had mentioned it on the plane. "If you don't climb down out
of your macho tree, we will revert to plan B," she waned.
"What's plan B?"
"That's the one where you get to play the role of the insane nephew
who's been kept in the basement for forty years. I always did have a
preference for plan B!"
Julian's expression hardened and the hand on her cheek slid down to
her shoulder where it faintly tightened. "Why do you fight me? You know
you want me."
"Do I?" she challenged, stepping out from under his hand to return to
her unpacking. A faint shiver of anticipation or fear moved through her as
he once more closed the distance between them. She refused to glance up
at him. The menace Julian was radiating was suddenly filling the room.
"Even if you won't admit that you want me, there's something else you
can't deny," he said grimly.
"What's that?" Carefully she unfolded a white, long-sleeved shirt.
"Just the little matter of the fee for my services—"
He never got a chance to finish what he was going to say. Anne didn't
even pause to consider her own response. She swung around in one swift
movement, her right palm colliding against the side of his face in a violent
slap that caught him totally by surprise.
"Don't you ever, ever imply that I would buy your help that way! You
might be willing to sell your expertise that cheaply, but I'm not willing to
pay that price. I would only sleep with you for one reason, Julian Aries,
and it's got nothing to do with paying you off. If you bring up that
possibility one more time I swear I will…I'll push you off that cliff out
there!" The muted pulse of the surf far below the bedroom window backed
up her enraged promise.
Julian narrowed his eyes. The mark of her hand was turning a dull red
on his cheek and jaw but he made no effort to touch the injured area.
Anne realized she was breathing much too quickly and that the adrenaline
was pounding through her bloodstream. She was furious with him and at
the same time utterly dismayed at what she had done. The last thing
Julian needed was another wound. A woman's slap might not constitute
much of an injury compared to what he had obviously been through but
Anne felt terrible
watching her curiously.
"Well?" Anne prompted expectantly.
"We decided to pass me off as your fiancé, remember?"
"So?"
"So, I'll sleep in here. If you're really sure this is the room you want,"
Julian added in resignation. He eyed the draped bed morosely.
Anne took a deep breath, telling herself to take it carefully. There was
something rather substantial about him as he stood in the middle of the
fantasy room. In his gray sweater and dark jeans, he appeared as a solid,
rather forbidding note against all the ornamental splendor of the
bedroom.
"Julian, you're playing the role of my fiancé. You are not actually going
to marry me, if you'll recall," she said dryly. "Our engagement is as much a
piece of fiction as this room itself is."
He moved forward slowly, tawny eyes darkening. "What's wrong with a
little fantasy, lady? Didn't you enjoy the dream we shared that night you
arrived at the cabin?"
"Julian…" Anne stepped hastily back as he lifted a hand to stroke the
side of her cheek. "Go find a room of your own. You're not staying here."
His expression darkened. "Craven will be suspicious if we're not
sleeping together."
"No, Craven will not be suspicious. Why should he be? A lot of couples
maintain a certain image of propriety during an engagement," she
snapped.
"You and I," he stated with grave certainty, "would definitely be
sleeping together. And I wouldn't care who knew it. I'd want everyone to
know."
"Craven doesn't have to know you feel so strongly on the subject," Anne
reminded him rather tartly. Matters were getting dangerous. Julian
seemed to have convinced himself that playing the part of her fiancé
automatically gave him a few rights. No wonder he had jumped at the
idea when she had mentioned it on the plane. "If you don't climb down out
of your macho tree, we will revert to plan B," she waned.
"What's plan B?"
"That's the one where you get to play the role of the insane nephew
who's been kept in the basement for forty years. I always did have a
preference for plan B!"
Julian's expression hardened and the hand on her cheek slid down to
her shoulder where it faintly tightened. "Why do you fight me? You know
you want me."
"Do I?" she challenged, stepping out from under his hand to return to
her unpacking. A faint shiver of anticipation or fear moved through her as
he once more closed the distance between them. She refused to glance up
at him. The menace Julian was radiating was suddenly filling the room.
"Even if you won't admit that you want me, there's something else you
can't deny," he said grimly.
"What's that?" Carefully she unfolded a white, long-sleeved shirt.
"Just the little matter of the fee for my services—"
He never got a chance to finish what he was going to say. Anne didn't
even pause to consider her own response. She swung around in one swift
movement, her right palm colliding against the side of his face in a violent
slap that caught him totally by surprise.
"Don't you ever, ever imply that I would buy your help that way! You
might be willing to sell your expertise that cheaply, but I'm not willing to
pay that price. I would only sleep with you for one reason, Julian Aries,
and it's got nothing to do with paying you off. If you bring up that
possibility one more time I swear I will…I'll push you off that cliff out
there!" The muted pulse of the surf far below the bedroom window backed
up her enraged promise.
Julian narrowed his eyes. The mark of her hand was turning a dull red
on his cheek and jaw but he made no effort to touch the injured area.
Anne realized she was breathing much too quickly and that the adrenaline
was pounding through her bloodstream. She was furious with him and at
the same time utterly dismayed at what she had done. The last thing
Julian needed was another wound. A woman's slap might not constitute
much of an injury compared to what he had obviously been through but
Anne felt terrible
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